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elendiliel · 7 months

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Birds of a Feather

Another sliver-of-life bit of nonsense, this time inspired - at least in part - by an article in @novafire-is-thinking's highly recommended analysis series "Who is TFP Optimus?" ("Desire vs Destiny", if memory serves. I'd have written this down earlier, but I was trying - and ultimately failing - to chase up a reference.)

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Being a medic – even the junior medic – in an active, injury-prone team of Autobots isn’t exactly a situation that lends itself to large amounts of free time, but Field-tech Glitch had long since learned (the hard way) to carve out at least a few minutes for herself where she could. She considered total sanity greatly overrated, but staying functional very much is not. So, while the rest of Team Prime caught up on reports, homework or stasis, she was standing in the doorway of the hangar that served as their base, just watching a flock of birds in the distant sky. They were out of range of her non-optical sensors, but without her realising it, her winglets had still fanned out to their full extent, trying to track the fliers’ movements. (Had she noticed, she would have observed that that was the first time she had relaxed her normal vanadium-steel grip on her coding that much since… since leaving Detroit.)

Which meant that the sensor array on the inner surfaces of her short-range scanners could also track any movement behind her – such as the approach of one of her teammates, which caused her winglets to spring back into their default position, a little more slowly than usual. She recognised the other ‘bot – one of only two mecha whose spark signatures she could identify without pushing her sensors and processor to the point of shutdown or meltdown – and, bar any weird Star Trek-style mirror universes that might exist, any Optimus Prime in any reality was surely the definition of safe.

“What are you doing?” he asked, coming to a halt beside her. As he was about three times her height, she couldn’t usually see his expression very well, but she could easily imagine his intricate optics – much more powerful than hers – spiralling open as he followed the direction of her gaze.

“Just birdwatching.” Wasn’t that obvious?

“For what purpose?” Oh, stars. She kept forgetting that, like every other ‘bot on the team, he had known nothing but war for far longer than she had been online. Everything, for him, had to have a practical reason. Even close contact with a quintet of humans, three of them children, hadn’t completely commented out that code.

“Relaxation, I suppose. I get stressed pretty easily, and something like this, which doesn’t really need me to do anything or think too hard, often helps.” She wasn’t generally so open about her… differences… from most mecha with anyone outside her original team, but Prime wouldn’t judge her, she was sure. A thought struck her, not for the first time, and she smiled up at her leader, a little slyly. “I recommend.”

“Is that a general, or a specific recommendation?” Skies above, was that the closest she’d heard Prime come to making a joke?

“Both. And yes, I do think you’re stressed, though you hide it insanely well. You’re carrying the weight of two worlds on your shoulders and leading an outnumbered, out-gunned team permanently low on just about everything. I don’t need more than a back-of-the-envelope calculation to tell me what effect that would have on anyone, let alone someone who cares as much as you do.” Prime seemed at a loss for words, for once, so, rather than force him to find some, she changed the subject back to the previous one. “There’s another reason I like birdwatching. It reminds me of home, in a good way. Our base has a tree growing in it, and it’s my job to feed the birds that visit or nest in it.” Or rather, it had been, before a space-bridge accident had transported her to that reality.

“Why do you not do so here?” Prime seized the new topic with both servos, though only someone watching him as closely as Glitch was would have known that.

It was her turn to be momentarily lost for words. More accurately, the words were all there, but they had jumbled themselves up in her processor again. (Why couldn’t they just behave themselves, the way musical notes did?) Prime waited patiently while she sorted them out as best she could. “This place doesn’t feel – permanent enough. It’s home, but it won’t always be.” Having been a student until less than a stellar-cycle previously, Glitch knew what she was talking about in that respect. “And once you start feeding birds, it’s not a good idea to stop. They don’t usually carry significant fuel reserves, and sometimes use up the last of their energy to get to where they think they can find food. If it isn’t there… not good.” Her optics dimmed slightly at the thought.

“I did not know that,” Prime said thoughtfully. “Relatively little was known of organic worlds on our Cybertron, and even on this planet I have not had as much time to learn such things as I would like.”

“Same goes for my Cybertron,” Glitch sighed. “A lot of mecha are actually scared of organics, thanks to Sentinel blasted Prime. In fact, we’ve lost a lot of knowledge over the aeons, especially our history, and there isn’t much of a general desire to learn more.” That hadn’t always been the case, she knew from her dubiously-legal forays into Science Guild databases. “Particularly if it comes from outside the Commonwealth.” Her handlebars twitched in a kind of shrug. “But then, we’ve been at war on and off since Alpha Trion was young, if not longer. Sometimes with other species, but more often with our own kind. It’s not unexpected.”

She realised Prime was giving her a look she couldn’t decipher – not just because of the height difference. “Your Alpha Trion is alive?”

“Thankfully. He’s just about the only councilbot with the backstrut to stand up to Sentinel. Not that he takes anywhere near enough notice.” She tried to make it clear from her tone of voice that she did not want to drive any further down that road, and Prime not only got the message but complied with it.

They stood in companionable silence for a little while, just watching the distant birds. Glitch briefly wished she had a built-in magnifying lens, so that she could see them more clearly, but even had she been in her home universe, mods – especially medics’ mods – have to be earned, and she was a good few stellar-cycles away from earning that one. Sundry other thoughts flitted through her processor, and one of them found its way to her voicebox. “Did you know some humans used to believe that the future could be predicted by observing the flight of birds? Augury, they called it.”

“I did not.” Prime didn’t take his optics off the aerials he himself was observing, but he sounded curious.

“Oh, they had all kinds of superstitions before their religions became properly organised. Some still do. At least it’s no longer acceptable to use the internal systems of a slaughtered animal for predictive purposes. Eesh.” She made a face. “But if you read a lot of historical accounts, especially if they’re more than a millennium and a half old, practically every significant event is surrounded by omens and portents. Some Roman writers are particularly good. I remember one story about a naval commander who tried to judge how well he’d do in an upcoming battle from the eating patterns of some sacred chickens. They wouldn’t eat at all – probably seasick – so he had them thrown overboard, saying, “If they won’t eat, let them drink” – and went on to lose the battle. At the time, that would’ve been blamed on his disrespect for sacred creatures. I’d argue that anyone with that much arrogance and lack of concern is unlikely to make a good commander.” She grinned up at Prime again. “Luckily for us, you’re the polar opposite.”

Prime didn’t seem to have noticed the compliment. He was looking down at her with an expression she recognised after a sparkbeat. It was one she’d seen in the mirror often enough. The look of a seeker after knowledge who had found a new source of information. She had the distinct impression that Optimus Prime, bearer of the Matrix of Leadership, had been laid aside, and the mech next to her was Orion Pax, archivist and just as much a data addict as she was. Her need for knowledge and understanding, along with a strong desire for justice, might have got her into quite a bit of trouble over the centuries (which would have become a lot of trouble, had her initial incursions into Science Guild databases been noticed by somebot less sympathetic than Brainstorm), but his had led him to Megatronus’ nascent civil-rights movement, to the title of Prime, and to all the responsibilities and problems that that entailed. (In her root dictionary, “Prime” still meant “high-ranking military officer”. She had added “Matrix-bearer” to her custom dictionary, but that hadn’t overwritten the older definition.) She was glad that Orion still existed, under the persona (Latin for mask, she recalled) of Optimus, and – she had to be honest with herself – pleased that she and her store of information could bring that side of him back to full consciousness, even once in a while. Maybe, when the war was over, he could return to his beloved Hall of Records, or recreate it on Earth, and add everything he had learned on his travels around the galaxy. Be Orion again – an older and wiser Orion, true, but no longer the war-weary leader of a beleaguered faction, simply a lover and seeker of knowledge and wisdom. She could but hope.

“I would like to hear more of such things,” Prime – Orion – remarked. Then he seemed to shake himself mentally and slightly, and returned his gaze to the skies, to the birds still swooping, circling and occasionally diving towards the ground, probably aiming for some unsuspecting prey. (Well, everything needs fuel, and organics can’t live on Energon or hydrocarbons.) “Later.”

That suited Glitch; she was there in the first place because she wanted some peace and quiet, after all. But she had enjoyed their conversation, and continued to enjoy her companion’s presence. Her Ratchet occasionally, usually affectionately, called her a born philosopher – a lover of wisdom – and it occurred to her that the label would be at least as appropriate for Prime. (Knowledge and wisdom weren’t the same thing, though – what would “lover of knowledge” be? Philognoser? Yikes. Better stick to the more euphonious if less accurate term.) More than she had realised at first, he and she were, in that human phrase she liked, birds of a feather, who proverbially – and in reality – flock together.

#transformers prime #transformers animated #fanfic #autobot oc #tfp optimus prime #misplaced medic au

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every-dayiwakeup · 2 years

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Arsonist's Lullabye

When I was a child, I heard voices

If there was a time when his parents weren't engaging in shouting matches, Billy didn't remember. A sliver of him wondered if it would lessen if one of them left. After his mom ran away, he tried not to wonder anything ever again.

Some would sing and some would scream

For every time he overheard them arguing, his mother would sing to him, her soft voice lulling him into a deep sleep. He would wake up in the closet to the sounds of his song bird screaming. He wanted to help her, he was a big boy, almost 7! But Ma made him pinky swear not to come out until it was quiet. Sometimes she had to lock the door, promising to always come back and let him out.

You soon find you have few choices

Billy didn't want to move to fucking Indiana. He didn't want to leave California. What if his mom came looking for him and he wasn't there? He didn't want a new mom, or a sister. He had a mother. He fought the move. He fought the anger running hot in his veins. As long as he kept it from burning his mother's memory like Neil had done with everything she ever owned... everything she ever touched, he was sane. Still, the cage around him shrunk in everyday, closing in on him. So he pushed back.

I learned the voices died with me

Fighting Neil was easier when someone was there to switch on a light and free him. His world grew smaller, and so did his will. The bitter pill Neil tried to force down his throat, that Ma running off was somehow his fault, that he wasn't worth fighting for, he couldn't just tuck into his cheek anymore. Sooner or later he would have to swallow it. But dying, Billy figured out, even in spirit, would kill what was left of Ma. Her memory was alive in him. The thought of something good existing within him was enough to feed his acts of defiance, however little they were.

When I was a child, I'd sit for hours. Staring into open flame.

Rage was a monster Billy learned about quite early on. According to Ma, this monster was invisible, so you couldn't ward it out from under your bed. It changed people, she told him. Billy wasn't stupid or blind; Rage had snuck into his father, and kept a permanent residence, slowly taking over him. Ma shielded him from Rage, and she wouldn't tell him how to fight such a beast. Billy picked up his own shield when he punched another kid for calling his mother a whore. He did exactly what Neil did to his mother, so why did his father send him to his room with a red cheek and no dinner?

Rage wasn't a shield, his mother had said, but a weapon. For Billy, it was both. It scared him, for he had watched his father lose to his own demons. Surrounded by people who were set on self destruction, another fear Billy shared, he couldn't help be intrigued. As he watched the flames grow, swallowing Neil up, and oh how quickly the fire spread.

By the time the monster came for him, Billy had been burned before. Pain, proof of life, drew him closer to the embers.

Something in it had a power. Could barely tear my eyes away.

Neil Hargrove was not a big man. Yet Billy had seen him dominate others, and he was understandably curious. What power did Neil hold over them? Billy would learn the hard way, and he would need to wield some of that to survive. Understanding the demons behind Neil's dilated pupils, a coal blue, was the key to survival. It was a dog eat dog world, and if you didn't go for the throat first, you would die.

Another key to surviving the cage? Plant your goddamn feet. Once you're on your back, you're instant prey.

The solution outright was simple enough; if you weren't the hunter, you were the hunted.

All you have is your fire. And the place you need to reach.

Being a Hargrove was lonely. In his haste to stay on top, never let his knees give out, Billy had chased away any potential friends. Maybe there was truth in Neil's words. Maybe he chased Ma away. Maybe if he had stayed inside the closet like a good little boy, she would still be here.

Max, someone Billy hoped he had some kinship with, turned her back on him and somehow made friends. She took the fire, made it her god. Billy became the fire; unpredictable, irritable, the epitome of the Hargrove demons. So much for a united front.

No matter what Billy did, he ended up hurting people. He wasn't sure what he did wrong, necessarily, only that others treated him that way. Surely there was nothing wrong with that, right? Maybe he did deserve it. And if he deserved it... it wasn't wrong.

There was a long climb to the top, and Billy wasn't sure he liked the idea of surviving in this world anymore. He burned anyone who got to close, because it kept him the safest he could possibly be.

He came to the conclusion on his eighteenth birthday that the top wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth fighting for. And the dreams his mind once catered to drifted further from his reach.

He was a boy who played with fire, his only friend. He was reckless with that old lighter, drawn yet again like a moth to a flame. Secretly, he craved the stars, and of course they too were eons away.

He hated being angry, really. He wasn't always like this, he wanted to tell Max. He used to be soft. He used to be safe without having to look over his shoulder. Someone had to do it.

Why did it always have to be him?

Don't you ever tame your demons. But always keep them on a leash.

Sometimes he liked being angry. He had his demons under control for the most part, otherwise his several masks would never hold. When submitting completely, there was a risk of vulnerability, and an even higher risk of being taken advantage of. Too many emotions exposed the ugly parts, and he couldn't control the stupid tears leaking from his eyes.

Just being angry was the safest option... as long as he kept a muzzle on Rage. Keep the flames going, but don't set the whole forest on fire. Better to keep the lighter close to you.

When I was 16, my senses fooled me. Thought gasoline was on my clothes.

Becoming a piss-poor mini Neil was never Billy's desired choice. He would rather not have a lock outside his bedroom door, or flinch every time someone raised their hand.

The impulses that came hand in hand with his anger branched out to wanting to not feel anything at all. Alcohol helped considerably, and it was the only time Billy could really picture his mother. Her caress of his cheek, her lullabye... but even in his hallucinations, she disappeared. Still, his mind was always going fucking haywire, worrying about what people thought of him, if people saw right through him (then Neil could, too).

Neil was the kerosene and the match, and Billy was his favorite match box, struck mercilessly until there was a spark. Nothing was truly his, not even his emotions.

Therefore, the only time he felt happy was when he was numb, usually under the influence of the cheap beer Neil had in the fridge but never touched. Billy almost wished he took a few. Blaming the drink instead of admitting his own father, his only flesh and blood relative left, hated him with no merits. He would never be the ideal son, and he knew that.

No amount of alcohol would make the hallucinations real, or fool Billy into believing his father loved him. But it did soften the harsh blows of Neil and reality, two forces that came hand in hand, and that would have to suffice.

I knew that something would always rule me. I knew the scent was mine alone.

His tongue was sulfur, his words cutthroat. He could never produce either when face to face with Neil. The bastard somehow had a way of cutting him down to size in ways Billy would perhaps have admired if he hadn't been on the receiving end of it.

What was it like to have total control over someone? What was it like to have total control over yourself?

He couldn't shake off the nasty words or the iron club he was ruled by. If someone didn't want to hurt him, they wanted to use him. At least then, he was seen. Sure, people only saw what he wanted them to see, but it was nice to be able to regain some sort of control over his life.

The shadows followed him wherever he went, reminding him that nothing good was real, and that they were trying to protect him. Billy didn't want sympathy from the darkness. He wanted love from the light. You took what you were given, though. There was no shaking of the stench of failure and disappointment. Damaged. Dangerous.

When I was a man, I thought it ended. When I knew love's perfect ache. But my peace has always depended. On all the ashes in my wake.

Eighteen was supposed to be his ticket to freedom. He subconsciously assumed freedom equaled immediate happiness. Ridding himself of Neil, Karen, Susan, even Max... that was supposed to be good for him. He leaves Hawkins in the dust, and drives to California.

But more ghosts greet him there, haunting his waking and sleeping hours. A good ghost does appear, in the form of Steve Harrington, and he smells like cinnamon and second chances.

Steve will want to escape his mood swings and nightmares, his horrible communication skills and his damned triggers. Billy knows this to be true. Why wouldn't Steve be any different? Every person passing by who bothers to stay leaves more ashes in their wake. It's only a matter of time before Steve wakes up and realizes that himself.

For the sake of his own fragile heart, Billy hopes it will be quick and painless.

*****

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#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #red writes #my fic #my writing #harringrove #song analysis #angst on top of angst #tw abuse #tw neil hargrove

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what-to-imagine-next · 2 years

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09-25-2022

Thirty Seven Days Until My Ex’s Birth Day, I Am Ever Closer To Killing Myself.

Its been weird, living that is.

I still extremely love him, stephen. And its honestly really fucking sucky. Part of me wishes for the sliver of a chance to even have him in my life again, even if it means watching him fall in love with another who he’d truly be happy with. Even if every extra second of knowing him is going to cause me an ever lasting pain. Even if I never get to be happy. And part of me really still wants one of two options. Wait out for the date I have in my mind, wait and wait every painful second and every terrifying moment of continuing this existence so when I get to that date it’ll finally be over. Finally free. Finally. Gone. Like I was meant to be. Or two, do the same but move, change my name, my look and personality. Become something I’m not for the happiness of others, and then disappear agajn permanently. And Honestly. Thats all I can see myself doing in this lifetime. Even if I never get another shot. Even if it means the sadness of others. Maybe I could be selfish. Maybe I could not care for once. And end every painful minute.

I’m sorry to any family I may hurt. I’m sorry to any friends who may hurt. I’m sorry to any around me who may hurt. But I’m not sorry for doing it when it comes. Because its been weighing down my mind for eleven years, and when the days comes in two thousand thirty, it will have been just over nine-teen years. And then I can be free. Though I dont wish my moms death, I partly hope shes not around for it. It would truly break her. But I’m so tired. Even the good days are exhausting. The bad days are millions of times worse. And I just want to be free. Cause I know even with therapy, even with self love, even with medication, even with a new start in life. I will never be free in my lifetime. And I have accepted that. All I hope is that all you around me, if you were still even there when the day comes, can accept it for even a fraction of what I can.

I love you stephen, I’m glad you chose yourself, I’m sorry I ever ruined you, met you, and loved you, I’m sorry I didnt keep you away. I’m sorry I was right about how awful I am. But thats okay. I’m not okay but thats okay. I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re loved. I hope you’re happy. I hope your hopeful. I hope, just maybe, that you’d love us for one more kiss, one more hug, one more moment of joy, but I know the world around humanity is a cursed place of turmoil, hatred, and profound idiocy. I love you. I miss you. I will ever be grateful for you. Even now. My idiot love.

God I hate myself, and everything makes sense.

#rant #i hope youre doing okay #mentally drained #life #i’m sorry #weakness

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inkytsuki · 2 years

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I played new Vegas for a few hours with the tritanopia color correction on (cause tritanomoly is big afterthought) and I don't have a headache????????? Like did I see the color yellow?? No!!! But girl....everything was so soft and not harsh on my eyes. I COULD SEE SHIT IN THE DARK AREAS WITHOUT HAVING TO PUT ON A RESHADE PRESET. There are so many colors of blue I've never seen???????? And SO MANY COOL TONED GREENS!!!!!! like I'm actually crying a Lil bit rn about this.

Tomorrow???? I'm gonna look at blue greens which I can only see one color of in varying values.

#ok ok so backstory to this bc yeah i know. bitch how does so much random off the wall shit happen to you????#number one: bad genetics on both sides of my family. if you saw my familys medical histories you would lose your mind.#i just have rare shit. which all stems from one rare cause in my opinion #but anyway. my maternal grandfather is blue/green colorblind. deterioration over time. my moms has also.#their eyes have lightened over the years. however. my eye damage is at the back of my eye at the actual optic nerve #my optic nerve was already permanently pinched by the time i was 10 due to cerebrospinal fluid pressure.#my frontal cortex is fucked essentially. but my vision is relatively okay. but my acuity fluctuates due to pressure changing #which makes my astigmatism go apeshit. which is why sometimes i cant even wear my glasses and i give up #so i have headaches due to pressure. and then i have headaches due to strain. they feel the same. my eyeballs hurt. and i clench my jaw #over time i have had more and more trouble differentiating blue from green. and lost the ability to see more than a small range of #blue green mix. anything outside of that small sliver (which all looks the same to me) is either blue or green.#ive noticed over the last year that blues are blurring together now too. not greens as much. so today i went on. a mission #cause. i couldnt read shit on like 7 different pages bc lack of accessibility. found the filters and boom #blue. and green. yellow is gone tho idk her rn bc she looks. pretty green brown grey. like metal. i guess idk #but um. im gonna keep looking at ways to get yellow back. bc if i can do art with a filter on??? itll change my life. bc i cannot see shit #when im trying to paint #and guess what. i love blues and greens and teals. sigh

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morganayenneferburnham · 3 years

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Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angel Roll their Eyes

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me

Chapter 3: You Could Call Me Babe for the Weekend

Chapter 4: The Best of Times, The Worst of Crimes

Chapter 5: All I Know Since Yesterday Is Everything Has Changed

A very short summary: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker’s crazy schemes.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Hey there! So this took me a bit longer than expected but here it is! I should probably mention that it's an angsty one. Sorry. I hope you guys enjoy it. I'd love to get some feedback :)

Chapter 5: All I Know Since Yesterday Is Everything Has Changed

She woke that morning wishing she didn’t have to leave her room for the rest of the month. That was going to be difficult, however. Kaz would come to drag her out himself if he had to. She knew he would. It was probably best to avoid angering him any further. He had made his anger quite clear the night before.

---

Kaz had sent everyone away for the night after having heard their reports and studying the plans for a few more minutes. His gloved fingers had wrapped themselves tightly around her wrist when she’d tried to slip past him.

“Can you get the job done? Or do I have to worry I’ll lose my corporalnik to a king?” His voice had been heavy with disdain.

“Of course, I can do the job, Kaz! How long have I been working for you?” she’d felt panic rise in her, making her nauseous.

“I’ve known Jesper even longer. Doesn’t mean he hasn’t disappointed me.” He snickered. “You haven’t answered my question, Y/N.” The way he’d said her name had sent a shiver down her spine. It had been a barely hidden warning.

“Kaz…” her voice had broken. Would he send me back to Tante Ingrid? She simply couldn’t tell.

“Start tailoring Nikolai and yourself back. I’ll see you in the morning. Do not be late.”

She’d spent the next 3 hours tailoring the king, who threatened to ruin her life by occupying her every thought, and then herself. Nikolai had at least had the decency to stay quiet this time around. She had been far from done when they’d called it a night, but she’d judged it would be enough to keep Kaz off her back.

---

Y/N got ready quickly, keeping Kaz’s warning in mind. She shrugged off her nightgown. She’d slept terribly. She pulled her white shirt over her head, tucking it in the pants she’d chosen for the day. Her mind kept travelling back to Nikolai’s kiss and Kaz’s terrifying fury. She loosely tied the strings at her shirt’s collar, letting the delicate bow rest on her chest. Her brain seemed to be stuck playing both moments repeatedly. It was ridiculous. Nikolai had only kissed her to keep up the act. There was no reason to jeopardize her place with the crows over something so meaningless. So why couldn’t her mind stop bringing it up?

When she finally reached the music room that currently served as their boss’ office, Inej sent her a look of pity from her perch on Kaz’s armchair. Great, she thought, Kaz is still mad.

Jesper and Wylan were lounging, limbs tangled, on a small couch. She nodded to them, returning their greetings, making her way to the opened glass-paneled doors leading to the garden. She watched Marya Hendriks paint while they waited for Nikolai and Zoya to join them. The older woman was working on a beautiful landscape of the Geldcanal. Y/N focused whole-heartedly on the paintbrush strokes letting them erase the memories of the previous night from her mind as they went. She knew it wasn’t permanent, the problem would still exist once Marya stopped painting, but it brought her comfort for the time being.

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, your royal highness” Kaz’s raspy voice brought her back to the present. His rage and disdain were barely leashed. She turned in time to catch the surprised look on Nikolai’s face. She might have thought it was funny if she wasn’t so scared of what Kaz could do.

“Good morning, are my general and I late?” Nikolai schooled his feature into a charming grin. “Though, you know, I was under the impression that Kings couldn’t be late, everyone else is simply early.”

Just when Y/N thought it was impossible, Kaz’s eyes darkened further. Nikolai had managed to make him angrier somehow. Kaz sneered, “You are late.” They were in for a horrible day.

The air felt colder than it had a few minutes prior to the Ravkans’ arrival. Kaz continued, “The first part of the job was a success. However, that was the easy part.” He sent a pointed look her way. “The next part will require everyone to follow the plan to the letter.”

She flinched. Kaz isn’t mad. He is livid. She moved away from the open doors opting to take place on the arm of the couch where Wylan and Jesper were still lounging. Jesper reached for her, letting his hand rest on her thigh, giving it a small squeeze as if he felt her distress. She was thankful for that small gesture. It would help her endure Kaz’s wrath.

“I still need time to figure everything out. These blueprints do give us the layout of the factory and the warehouse, but we still don’t have the guards’ rounds schedule. We’ll also need to find out the shipment schedule.”

Inej interrupted him “I’ll take care of that. Just keep planning, I do quite enjoy your scheming face.” Y/N always loved getting a glimpse of their relationship. It was always subtle, but they clearly did love each other. It was endearing how much they did.

Kaz’s features seemed to soften a bit at that. “Of course, my darling. Perhaps General Nazyalensky can be of some assistance.”

Zoya nodded. “Sure, we’ll get you the information. Just make sure we have a way out with the plans and the prototypes we need.”

Kaz nodded and turned back to Y/N his gaze cold and hard. “You’re not done with your tailoring.” It wasn’t a question, it was a critic. She felt a chill travel down her back. “You have to finish this morning before either of you can leave the house.” He considered her for a moment. “Use your room. We can’t risk a servant seeing you like this.”

-----

They’d left the room a few minutes later. Y/N leading the way to her room at the Hendriks mansion. She had been quiet, practically ignoring him the whole way. Only turning to him once to check if he was following her. Her brows were furrowed. Nikolai wasn’t sure if she was mad at him or scared. Scared of what? Me? Or Brekker?

Nikolai now watched her from his seat at the end of the bed as she readied her tailoring kit. She had tailored her body back the night before, but she still had ways to go before she was sporting her beautiful features again. She had her back turned to him, her olive pants hugging the soft curves of her hips just right. Nikolai’s mind kept travelling back to the night before and the outfit the Grisha had chosen for the day wasn’t helping him at all. He wanted to rest his hands on her hips and pull her body to his. He wanted to feel her comforting curves pressed against him, closer than they had been the night before, the fabric of her skirt no longer in the way.

He watched her finally settle in front of the mirrored desk, raising her hands to her face. He was glad she was starting with herself. It would give him time to gain full control of his brain again. He observed the careful movements of her fingers for what felt like hours. He was grateful for the time she’d bought him, until he saw her face as she made her way to him. He couldn’t help but glance at her full lips. He wondered just how different it would feel to kiss her now. Saints, I forgot just how naturally gorgeous she was. The urge to pull her closer was threatening to overwhelm him.

“So, I guess I’m only undoing my own tailoring? Not Genya Safin’s? You still need to look like Sturmhond.” She sounded guarded.

“Yeah. I don’t think you could handle how handsome I really look.” He saw her jaw tick. Saints, what a stupid thing to say. And why did I wink at her again? She’s obviously uncomfortable.

He watched her carefully as she came to a stop, standing between his thighs. Nikolai could feel his heart hammering in his chest. She was standing so close he worried she could hear it. If she did, she made no mention of it. “This is gonna hurt. Tell me if you need a break.” She sounded determined; all traces of her previous insecurity gone. He only nodded, not trusting his voice with her standing so close to him, her floral scent drifting his way due to the soft breeze coming from the open window.

Her fingers were surprisingly cold against his skin. He felt the familiar itch of tailoring as she started before the pain of bone remodeling fully settled in. He tried to stay as still as possible, focusing on the concentration etched in the girl’s features instead of the pain. He felt her set his jaw back, making sure Sturmhond’s characteristically pointed chin was just right. She had made a few adjustments the night before, but she hadn’t done any major alterations. He kept watching her as she set the rest of his face back. Her shirt had slipped dangerously lower on her chest as she worked. The small bow coming lose. It was driving Nikolai completely crazy. He wanted to reach out and finish untying the damned strings. He didn’t think he could take much more of this absolute torture. She was almost done with reworking the bone when he saw her bite her bottom lip, completely lost in her work. He was about to finally lose the last sliver of decency he had been holding on to for the last hour when she straightened up suddenly. She backed away to take in her work.

“I think that should be it for facial structure. I’ll work on your eyes next, and I’ll finish with your hair.” She seemed more at ease now. Whatever had been bothering her almost forgotten.

She took her place back between his legs reaching up to his face once more. Her fingers came to rest on his cheek.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was a mistake.” Nikolai blurted out. He could’ve sworn he saw hurt flash in Y/N’s beautiful green eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He must have imagined it. He saw her straighten her spine, her shoulders tensing up.

“Whatever, we got out. We got the job done. It doesn’t matter.” Any scrap of ease she’d gained was gone as she turned her back to him, taking a few steps towards the mirrored desk. Why did you have to open your mouth? Nikolai Nothing. Nikolai the Bastard. Pretender. Nikolai the fool. He had clearly upset her.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to upset you. Brekker told me you worked at one of the pleasure houses before… I just – I didn’t mean to cross a line.”

She whirled back towards him. Fury burning in her deep green eyes. “He had no right.” she hissed. Her rage melted quickly however, leaving her looking panicked. Nikolai saw her hands start to shake before she clenched her fists.

Another blunder. “He only told me because I asked about your tattoo.” Her hand flew to the bare skin of her arm hiding the iris burned into her skin from him. I am only making it worse, he realized. I should really learn to stop talking so much.

She lowered her head. “He’s going to send me back.” Her voice was trembling. She sounded absolutely terrified at the idea. Nikolai wanted to reach out to her, to comfort her. Why would she think that? Surely Brekker wouldn’t do that. She’s a corporalnik. If Brekker is actually stupid enough to part with such a gifted Grisha, she could have a place with the Second Army. She could have a place in Ravka… She could have a place with me.

“You could–” Nikolai didn’t get to finish his sentence. Inej had opened the door and walked in carrying a tray with tea and biscuits.

“Figured, you two were probably hungry!” Her warm smile faltered when she saw Y/N’s expression. “Everything alright?”

“Thank you Inej. You are absolutely right!” She laughed; all traces of her panic gone. “I’m starving. I could eat a stack of waffles as tall as you!” A talented corporalnik and actress, Nikolai thought.

-----

tagged: @power-of-words23

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fic #kaz brekker #the crows #six of crows #inej ghafa #leigh bardugo #grishaverse #nikolai series #my fic #ari's fic #have i known you 20 seconds or 20 years #chapter 5 #fic update #all i know since yesterday is everything has changed

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m-aster-of-spinjitzu · 3 years

Text

the hues of an empty sky

Missing memories, or having two of them for one moment - not quite the same, but if there's one thing Jay's leant over the last few weeks, it's that literally nothing makes sense anymore.

Or, some Skybound aftermath, Zane actually expressing emotions about his memory switch being turned off for all those years, and what was supposed to be a 'they tell everyone about the erased timeline' fic, but it turned into a 'two characters who barely interact on screen talk at like one am in the morning, and don't actually tell the other what exactly they're alluding to the whole time' fic that I wrote at like one am-

Also yeah, I realized too late that they split up to look for Wu after s7, we’re just gonna pretend that they waited a few days or something, idk anymore tbh, lol.

(I also didn't have time to edit - so please tell me where the typos are? 😂💛)

Word count: 4539

Prompt: crying, from @ninjago-bingo 's warm board.

Trigger warnings: the main character has a panic attack, and squeezes their fingernails into their hands once or twice but I think that's it.

*facepalms* also, guys, i’m so stupid - i literally just realized that this freaking CHANGES TENSE HALFWAY OHMYGOSH I- i don’t think it’s super noticeable, but ugh, apologies to anyone who actually thought my writing was good lol-

---

It's cold.

Bitterly, freezing cold.

The biting chill of the air is a bit strange for this time of year, but, heck, that's nowhere near the craziest thing that's ever happened to him - not by a long shot.

He sighs, squinting at the stars dotted liberally against the black canvas of the sky.

Cole had once joked that one of them might be the remains of their golden weapons, after they'd hurled the burning mass into the sky - in another alternate timeline; one that only existed in the memories of a certain few.

Gosh - that seemed like such a long time ago.

Wouldn't it be nice to go back to that time, when he'd still thought that their powers were the coolest thing ever - instead of despising them for all the responsibility and sacrifice that came with them? When one of his biggest worries was whether the girl he had a crush on liked him back - not wondering if his friends would survive the night?

"I did not expect to find you awake at this hour, Jay."

Reflexivity, he jumps back, his mind twisting his friend's gentle voice into the- the djin's triumphant, accented one.

You're supposed to be a ninja. What good are you if your friends can still sneak up on you?

"Geez, warn a guy before you sneak up on him! I almost fell off the Bounty!"

"My apologies. I was... surprised to find you awake at this hour," Zane answers. "What are you doing?" "Couldn't sleep. It's too cold," he confesses, not entirely a lie. Ninjago wasn't 'that' far from the Sea of Sand, but he'd grown up in a much warmer area - unfortunately resulting in his practically nonexistent tolerance to the cold. That never failed to stop Kai from teasing him about it, though. He doesn't mention the pressing weight on his chest, almost tangible - or how it constantly makes him feel. Like he's being dragged through the darkness of an empty sky, spikes of fear making everything so freaking terrifying- "You?"

"I have been analyzing my memories of Pixal, in the hope that it may lead me to her whereabouts. However, all my efforts have proved... unsuccessful," Zane answers wearily, shifting his gaze to the sky.

Oh- oh. They'd all be so caught up in the chaos of the last few weeks - hey, it's not like any of them had asked the universe to permanently be out to get them! - that they'd forgotten Pixal was still offline.

"Hey, I'm sure that she's still there somewhere," he says, earnestly. "After all - she wouldn't be your girlfriend if she didn't pull a vanishing act every now and again, eh?"

The question is punctuated with a laugh, but he doesn't say that he's a little worried about her too. They hadn't talked much, but-

I can't see one of my best friends find out that his girlfriend is dead, a quiet voice at the back of his mind points out. Well - been there, done that, wouldn't recommend, he thinks bitterly. Emotional breakdowns and frequent nightmares apply. Anxiety attacks are half off, too!

It's quiet for a few minutes, neither of them seeing a need to break the silence. The wind blows softly through the sails above them; gray wisps of cloud revealing a pale sliver of moonlight that paints the sky in its glow.

It should be a peaceful night: beautiful, calm, no one trying to kill them or destroy their city - for a change.

His hands won't stop shaking.

It should be a peaceful night, but, as usual, the world is too freaking unfair for that-

He hasn't even slept for a full night in weeks! Well, not since- since-

Don't think about it! That's only going to make it worse, duh-

"Are you alright, Jay?"

"Yeah- I- I'm good, thanks," he says quickly, ignoring the way his breathing keeps speeding up. FSM, not this-

Not for the first time, the world suddenly becomes too loud - too much. Every little thing, from trying to breathe properly or even walk- feels insurmountable, because, gosh, oh gosh, it's going to come crashing down if he even moves-

The memory starts off the same as it always does.

Rubble strewn over the temple grounds, his friends literally reduced to nothing more than statues. A shot that hit the mark perfectly, but perfectly shattered his world in the process.

A poison-splattered dress, a terrifying realization.

Her well-aimed joke, but one that never fails to sting every time. Gosh, why hadn't they just allowed her to join their team in the first place? Maybe they could've prevented this- this- whole situation, if they hadn't been so freaking egotistical-

And, again, he's overwhelmed by the sheer sense of helplessness, all his power and training and skills completely useless to one of the people he cared most about. FSM, if only I hadn't used my first w-request so carelessly! If only I'd been able to escape- or, or if only I'd been able to assemble the team faster! If only-

Despite being in what must've been unimaginable pain, she offers a strained smile - a sweet gesture that, ironically, feels like she's poisoning him, because- because FSM, this is all so wrong, it wasn't supposed to end like this-

He watches with horror as her eyes dull and she stills in his arms.

She's gone, FSM, she's gone and it's all my fault-

"Jay?" a voice asks, concern evident in their tone. Distantly, he registers that he's having a breakdown in front of one of his best friends - one of the things he'd been trying really hard to avoid.

Dang it.

"I-" he tries to say, but, great, he's breathing too fast to even get the stupid words out.

"Breathe in for four seconds," Zane says, softly.

Four seconds? Time has no meaning right now, narrowed down to, like - falling down a chasm, terrified of what's at the bottom, except the fear's all around, this- this... foreboding thing of his mind that keeps yelling that he needs to run, or fight, but he can't, can't-

Right. Four seconds.

You're okay, you're fine, no one's trying to hurt you or your friends. She's not dead.

But what if- what if they're being dragged out of this ship right now? What if it was all a dream, and she's dead anyway, because all of us were too stupid to come up with another plan, and none of us could even do anything when she-

After a little while, when he could breathe a little easier, and the fear didn't feel like it was slamming into him from every possible direction, he slowly opened his eyes. Shakily, he wiped a tear from his face - as if that would wipe away all the weeks that had, theoretically, never even freaking happened.

The sky comes back into focus - pinpricks of light against pitch black.

How was he going to come up with some sorta explanation without... well, explaining everything?

Great.

My nerves are frayed, and I have to lie to a walking lie detector - what could possibly go wrong?

"Are you alright?" Zane asks, his brows creased in concern.

"Heh heh, yeah. Probably just too many video games," he replies quickly, laughter a bit strained.

"You were muttering to yourself," his friend replies quietly. Ugh, trust the way-too-observant-nindroid to call him out on the remains of his facade. "If you do not mind me asking, what was 'all your fault'? I am sure that it was probably a misunderstanding."

You're the one who misunderstands everything, he thinks wearily, ignoring the part of him that yearns to tell someone else about... well, everything that's happened because of that stupid teapot. He's not one to keep secrets by nature, and it's been taking a bigger toll of him than he'd thought it would. Is this how Nya felt when she was still the Samurai? "It's- it's nothing, probably just nonsense."

"Are you sure? You seem... quite worried about something."

Dang it, were his hands still shaking? He presses his fingernails into his palms, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

He's talking to one of his best friends, FSM. Weren't friends able to tell each other anything?

"Do you think it's easier to forget? Better?"

He didn't even realize he'd asked a question until Zane's eyes widened in surprise.

A forest coated in snow, ice crystals dangling from the tree branches above their heads. Plenty of screaming - way too much, he reflects, couldn't they have been a bit nicer? It must've been pretty jarring to learn that you weren't human, or that your father had erased years of your life from your mind - in that weird underground treehouse. Those crazy tree monsters - and the realization that they all had much more power than they'd thought.

"N- nevermind," he stutters, fleetingly thinking of kicking the deck. "That's way too personal, you don't have to answer it-"

"I do not mind," Zane says, a bit sadly.

Oh.

Heck, his friend was way too nice.

They gaze up at the stars for a few minutes, not really seeing them - one drowning under the weight of too many secrets, the other, too many memories.

It's quiet - too quiet.

Ugh, he thinks, sighing, that sounds like something a low-budget horror movie would start with, cringey sound effects to match.

But the silence is a painful reminder of the days he'd spent tossing and turning in a cramped cell - nothing but his worries and the bruises on his leg from that stupid ball and chain keeping him awake.

He's been trying hard - maybe too hard - to avoid being alone, avoid being in a situation where they've gotta be quiet ever since then, because, dang it, his memories always seem to fill the silence, and they're always far more terrifying than they should be-

It's easier, in a way, to be mocked for his stupid jokes than it is to relive a single moment from those nightmarish few weeks.

Almost reflexively, he grasps for something to fill the quiet.

"Heh, this is a bit awkward. It's okay if you wanna leave-"

"I do not mind," Zane echoes, walking a bit closer. "It is not as if I need to sleep. But... I do not quite know what to think of your question."

There comes the answer - or a semblance of one at least, and it's the last thing he'd been expecting.

"You don't know?" he blurts out before he can even think of trying to filter the thought. Way to treat your friend who's been nothing but kind to you, Jay. "But you're- you're a nindroid! You know everything-"

"Pixal," his friend mutters softly, sighing, and the hurt, the fear, laced through the word makes something in his heart practically twist. He knows all too well what it feels like to be in that situation - even if, technically, it had never happened.

Then- "I wish that were true. But I suppose that my emotions make certain situations much more complicated than... than they need to be. Thus I cannot give my perspective on this - or, at least, without sounding quite conflicted."

"You know that you're allowed to be conflicted, right? Even the coolest Nindroids don't know everything."

"...Yes, I suppose so."

Jay frowns at the almost subconscious hesitation, eyebrows creasing in concern.

"Seriously," he starts earnestly. They're both leaning on one of the railings just above the deck now. "Just 'cause you're a nindroid doesn't mean that you've gotta chase some kind of perfection that doesn't even exist."

He doesn't miss how Zane's eyes widen in shock, their bright blue hue glowing a little brighter - and heck, if that doesn't hurt even more than the earlier realization.

"Besides - it's not like none of us haven't made mistakes before. Hate to go all Wu on ya, but they help us learn or some stupid thing like that. Even if the mistake is trying not to make 'em, you know?"

"Thank you," Zane replies, a tired smile on his face. "Even the most advanced tech is susceptible to error, I suppose."

They've all made lots of mistakes, heaven forbid if one of them is still agonizing over messing up over the crazy situations the universe constantly put them in. It's not like they were told they'd have to face more ancient evil armies than they could count, were they?

Maybe it's time to stop focusing on events that never even happened, and pay more attention to your friends. What's the point of being part of this team if you're always scared or selfish?

"Shut up," he mumbles, rubbing his temples. What's the point of fighting if your own brain is gonna fight you whenever it gets a chance? A few seconds later, he schools his face back into his default anxious grin. "Great, cause I- I- could use your advice on something." "Alright," comes the quiet reply, his friend seemingly lost in thought.

"What if you wanted to tell someone something, but you couldn't?"

His breathing starts to speed up again, but he grips the deck until his fingers are practically bruised, stark white against his tanned skin. Not this time-

"Is this what you were referring to earlier? An event that you blamed yourself for?" Zane asks, eyes flitting between the floor and the sky.

Dang it, way too observant as usual. He masks his surprise with a laugh, but the conversation definitely isn't going as planned and, oh gosh oh gosh, what if-

No, there's no way that any of them would even believe that. Besides - no one can remember stuff that they've forgotten, especially if magic's at play.

"Yeah, kinda," and he's surprised by how steady his voice sounds. It's not easy to even think about that- event, talking about it is a whole different thing. A much more difficult thing, but also - a bit, a little bit, easier. "I-" "Apologies for interrupting," his friend interjects. "I suppose that I have not been entirely honest with you." What?

"A few days ago, I discovered a number of deleted memory files buried deep within my code."

Just like that, his whole world tilts out from underneath him.

It takes every ounce of his strength to keep himself from falling into the abyss again.

Wait, what?

Has he really known for all this time? It's been weeks! Surely he would've said something? It can't be, it never even-

The rational part of his mind points out that he can remember every day of those few weeks. Well, he was the one to make the wish - magical logic is kinda stupid, but maybe that's why he had to remember it or something?

Well then, a small voice interjects, why was Nya cursed to remember everything too?

Of course, even the stupid magical logic doesn't even make sense to the one who caused this whole mess in the first place.

"They were almost entirely corrupted - scrambled in a way that I am not familiar with. However, I did realize that certain files bore dates that have not even occurred yet. I dismissed it as a problem with my code, however..."

Breathe, calm down, it's not like he was able to process them or anything-

We agreed that no one was supposed to know! What if they end up blaming us for keeping it a secret this long, or, or-

"I mean, they could've been-" he starts, but the way in which he's nervously twisting his fingers is a pretty clear indication that he's lying, dang it.

"So when you mentioned that you were unable to tell someone something - did you mean that it was because they had quite literally forgotten about it?"

Great. Fantastic. Of course the literal robot has pieced it together by now-

He squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, hoping that if he ignores the problem, maybe it'll go away.

Okay, fine, maybe he's trying to figure out a way to fix this whole mess. Doesn't mean that he's any closer to coming up with a solution, though.

"Er, yeah," he whispers, shoulders slumped, eyes still firmly shut. Because gosh, he doesn't want to - can't, can't - see the realization dawn that, yeah, he's lied to people he's known for years and years, even though they've all seen way too many times that secrets bring nothing but trouble-

"Well, then - I would say that you don't have to tell them," Zane replies, surprisingly... earnestly? That, or he's either too freaked out to understand the tone properly. Could be either.

He opens his eyes, hesitantly.

And it comes as a bit of a shock to find nothing but concern reflected in his friend's.

The almost persistent weight on his chest feels a little lighter now, like the sky isn't as quite so empty.

Well, it still kinda is. But that doesn't hold as much weight as he'd thought it did - not if one of his friends is willing to look past that; past the heaviness of holding up all those memories with nothing his single star, flickering in and out of the darkness, to try and light the unforgiving darkness of the sky.

"Why?" Jay asks, so quietly he can barely hear it himself. "Don't I owe it to them? Do you?"

"No. Definitely not," comes the reply, so full of conviction that he almost stumbles back. Why-

"My father..."

Oh- oh.

"thought it was better to spare me the pain of mourning him than for me to know who I was," Zane confesses, hesitantly. "Not that I disagree, necessarily. I just..."

He trails off, clutching the railing so hard that the wood almost snaps beneath his titanium fingers.

It takes Jay a little while to realize why - why exactly his friend, who has access to a wealth of knowledge and information, is grasping for an answer. Because- because, well, even if someone does something in your best interests - sometimes the choice isn't always up to them. Or maybe it is, but it was... difficult, to say the least, to let go of the fact that his parents had never told him the truth sooner. Not that he blames them, necessarily - it's not like they knew that his father would pass on before he'd even get the chance to meet him - but... it's confusing, and difficult, not to know why you were left at a junkyard as soon as you were born. Maybe if he'd known that sooner, he could've asked the one person who might've had answers - although it's not like hoping for the past to change will actually change it.

They don't even know that you know, a small voice at the back of his mind points out, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense-

"You wanted a choice," he breathes, eyes widening. A choice - like one that he'd never been given, one that he stills struggles not to hold against two people who've always had his best interests at heart. Even if they did have the right to withhold that one thing, after all they've done for him - the 'what if's' still echo in his mind far more often than he'd like. "There's nothing wrong with that, even if it feels that way. I kinda get where you're coming from, dude, and it's... super confusing, but I'd be pretty mad if my memories were tampered with like that."

So would anyone, he realizes, heart sinking. Oh, great. Not helping-

"I- I suppose so?" Zane answers, but it sounds more like a question than a reply. "However, in the same vein, it would be unwise for you to give away your choice whilst you still have one." "But don't I owe it to everyone? You just said it, it's horrible to alter people's memories and I- I-" "Did we forget... whatever it was for a good reason? "I- I mean, I guess, but..." "Then you do not owe it to us to relive something that we do not even remember." The words should be a relief - and they kinda are. But some part of him really does want to explain the crazy alternate timeline, and everything that happened in it. It's just... really, really freaking difficult.

"What if- what if I wanted to, though?" Jay asks hysterically, running his hands through his hair in a frenzied sort of way. "And I still couldn't? I just, I-"

He cuts himself off with a bout of forced laughter.

Zane takes a moment to reply, the bright blue light in his eyes flickering - a small tell that he was thinking so deeply, his processors were literally sparking up a bit.

"You queried earlier if it was easier, or better, to forget. And while all situations are different, I suppose it is... well, subjective. What do you think?" Zane asks, softly.

Derailing the conversation a bit, but his friend's obviously smart enough to be leading up to something.

Sure, he'll go along with it.

"I mean, there are some things I'd rather forget, you know? I guess we all know what that feels like," Jay replies, the statement with oddly sad air to it. They're still kids, after all, and it gets a bit exhausting pretending that their superhero lives were all fun and games - when they'd just given him enough grey hair to last then lifetimes, and enough nightmares to keep him from ever getting the normal amount of sleep his mum always prattled on about.

Sleep, heh heh. Practically a foreign concept, now.

"And I know that stuff that happens, like shapes us or something - and Master Wu would probably go off on a whole ramble about why we learn from our mistakes or whatever," he laughs nervously, resisting the urge to just fall headfirst onto the deck of the stupid ship instead of continuing the conversation," and how 'our scars only make us stronger', crap like that, but I just-"

"I'm just really... tired of this," he confesses warily, shoulders slumped. "W- I remember so many horrible things, and I-" he breaks off, laughing bitterly. His voice takes on a sort of brittle quality, way too high pitched, "and I can't even talk about them, dude. If that's not the most pathetic thing ever, I dunno what is."

"It does not-"

"Don't say it," Jay mutters, rubbing his temples. "I know, I know, my feelings aren't pathetic, they're always valid, whatever, spare me the lecture-"

"That is not what I was going to say," Zane replies gently. "It just seems that you have answered your own question."

"Gee, which one?"

"I do not know how much helpful assistance I can provide in this situation, but it is understandable to wish certain events had never occurred. However, seeing as we cannot change the past, it seems unwise to dwell on said events if you can avoid it."

Jay stiffens, clamping a shaky hand over his mouth. Something seems to press down even harder on his chest, a heavy sort of weight that causes his breathing to speed up again. Don't say it don't say it there's no reason to warn them this time-

"If you would like to tell any of us about something, of course you are welcome to. It does not to be the whole story, after all. Just make sure that it is the decision you choose, not one you choose because of what you think how it will affect others," Zane finishes quietly, ducking his head as if he's embarrassed.

The stars are still white-hot, burning away some million miles above them.

"Thanks," he says, and puts his hand softly on Zane's shoulder. "I mean, I know - that all makes sense, I guess. It's just- I-"

"You want to?"

"Yeah," Jay starts, sighing, "I do. It's just- it's not just my choice. And I'm pretty much dying already right now, so, as fantastic as making it all worse sounds, hard pass."

Oops, maybe he shouldn't have said that last bit. They'd agreed not to tell anyone about it - even this conversation was cutting it way too close. It wasn't impossible for them to put everything together - they were a pretty smart group, after all, even without their resident inventor and engineer - and Jay didn't really know what he'd think if they did. Fearful? Relieved? Angry?

"That does... not sound great? Dying certainly does not seem-"

"It's called sarcasm, Zane."

"Oh- yes. My memory now accesses the fact that people often speak in that manner. It does seem a bit counterproductive, though. Why not just say what you mean?"

"Shut it, you have no clue how integral to my life it is," Jay replies with a halfhearted grin.

A few seconds later, he remembers something his friend had mentioned earlier, and the grin disappears.

"You know that you can talk to us if you're not happy, right?" he asks, earnestly. Sure, it's not like he could always do that, considering, well, a stupid djin and even stupider magic, but it's not like he needs to. It's- well- he'll be okay, probably. Maybe. Kinda.

Zane's eyes blink on and off again, blue fading in and out. "I... I suppose that I was not quite aware of that."

Okay, they've screwed up way too many times, but this... this is pretty bad. Dang it, how long does it take for them to throw self-preservation instincts at their friend before he freaking- picks them up or something?

"However, will it not hurt those who have experienced the same unfortunate events?"

Dude, not the best question to ask someone wondering the exact same thing-

"It's been... uh, nice, kind of, talking to you. So- I don't think so, and I'm pretty sure someone would say so if it did. Besides, don't we talk about our adventures all the time? It'd probably be better if we... uh, well- heh heh, nothing."

"If we talked about the less than positive elements of them? Perhaps, but I still-"

Maybe it's the fact Zane has always tried to be there for him, or maybe he's too sleep deprived to care anymore, but this is a way too familiar situation and-

Well, not ignoring the issue would be a start.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we're family, Zane. We care about each other. And, gosh, that means that we care about you too. Memories are stupid and annoying sometimes, but we have to make good ones too, right? To block out the bad ones a bit, I guess? Kinda, at least."

They both look away from the stars now, grappling for something else to say.

In the end, they leave it be with a hug and a fondly exasperated warning about sleeping, if you happen to need it.

After all, they're family. They don't have to be perfect, or tell each other everything - even if it does take them a long time to realize that, and an even longer time remembering it.

---

The next time Jay startles awake from a nightmare, the sky is still empty - painfully so, like an ache that simmers beneath the surface even when it's not able to be seen.

The hue, though, is a little lighter.

Just a little - the all-encompassing darkness of it is now a navy sort of blue, his star shining a little bit brighter.

It's still not sunrise, not even close - but he'll take it. AN: the ‘sky’ mentioned at the start and end is a stupid metaphor that i somehow ended up liking too much to trash, it’s ‘empty’ because he hasn’t told anyone about the timeline, and Nya’s not included because they never had a chance to tell each other everything significant or even talked about it or processed it on screen. so yeah! if you read this,,, not great thing, can i send you a hug or good vibes or smth? tyy🥺

#ninjago #jay walker #zane julien #skybound #ninjago fic #not the best thing i've written #actually it's not great-#but i spent too long on it to not post it so if you actually read to here i simunltaneously wanna send you good vibes & apologize profusely-#the ending is super rushed but im too tired to try and write a better one yay:/#also dang it- sorry this fits the prompt so badly i-#i didn't realize till after oops #ninbingo #ninjago jay #ninjago zane #ninjago masters of spinjitzu

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the-cat-at-the-theatre-door · 2 years

Text

I'm a man of three fears: integrity, faith, and crocodile tears.

Alonzo’s a burden - he always has been. That’s why he needs to leave before he burdens the cats he cares about most.

TW: For heavy handed mentions of implied abuse, assault and kitten-napping. Nothing happens, but the Mouser’s Palace is a very *very* bad place and Macavity and his henchcats are bad people.

If somecat had told Alonzo this time a few years back that he would have had a part in staging and executing an elaborate getaway from the infamous Mouser's Palace that involved snatching two of Macavity's prized members and a couple bloodline kittens, he would have likely told them to get their ears checked to make sure there was still a brain between them. Then he would have told them, very bluntly he might add, to keep their traps shut before they got them both killed.

How times changed. Even now, it still sounded ridiculous.

Escaping from Macavity's clutches once you were sworn in, once you had spent so much time there no other life seemed possible, once you had lost so much of yourself you weren't quite sure if you were still you anymore, was a pipe dream. A psychological torment of yearning just beyond grasp. Or maybe just a death wish. It was something you thought of while you were clawing at the persistent ringing in your ears and struggling to see straight, wondering if anyone around you was a plant, or wished for late at night as you remembered things said in passing that permanently stained your frontal lobe with echoes and images so horrible that you couldn't even close your eyes to sleep.

And yet, here they were. The fabled Junkyard Demeter had spoken so often about. They had actually made it to the other side, all relatively in one piece. Alonzo had to admit that he'd shied away from the strength of those initial wisps of faith lit in the basements of the Mouser's Palace, fearing the inevitable burn. But those little slivers of hope, collected like so many particles of dust, really had gotten them somewhere. They'd actually managed to get away.

But it still felt off.

To be in a place where Macavity somehow, presumably, wasn't always watching, wasn't always listening...it was a strange feeling. Almost unsettlingly unreal - like it could disappear at any moment. Like it was some kind of twisted, too-good-to-be-true dream.

But it hadn't been an easy dream, that was for sure.

Alonzo gingerly pressed a paw pad to the newest scar candidate on the side of his face, blinking back the sudden sting it brought to his eyes. It smarted, but it had stopped dripping into his mouth and would heal on its own. His nose had probably been broken, too, something he reminded himself painfully of when he'd scrunched it, but he'd dealt with a million of those before. Thesper always had had good aim when he pulled his head far enough out of his ass to do his job, the bastard. Of course he'd choose that night to pick an actual fight. Just their luck really. Must have been slim pickings.

They...the other Junkyard cats - that one silver tom, what was his name again? Mun-something - had tried to coax him into getting patched up, but Alonzo had never liked being looked over too closely for something that wasn't, in his words, "being devastatingly good looking" (and don't think he didn't hear Bombalurina snort behind him). It left him feeling...vulnerable, and you could never quite get that pesky vulnerability out of the fur once it sank its claws in. It stained very easily. Besides, as nice as these cats seemed, he didn't know them. And, frankly, he didn't trust them either. Alonzo liked to think he knew better than that, after all this time. Fool me once and all that garbage. It's not like they'd given him any solid reason to (though not attacking them on sight might have been half of one). He hadn't been thrilled watching the rest of them being whisked away out of sight one by one for the same treatment (which also left him with a few questions), but he wasn't in charge here. Alonzo knew how pecking order worked, and he reminded himself of it further, biting his tongue as he watched after Demeter's retreating form, Jemima trailing after her. That made him antsy. But if they ended up in trouble, well, he soothed himself with the fact that they'd just been in the ring once already - they could always go another round.

Alonzo had been led off himself by that same silver tabby cat, and, after staunchly refusing any medical assistance and ducking out of a remarkably strong nursecat's grip, sat across from their own little council of cats (How cute, he'd thought) and sorted everything out. Well, kind of. Keeping a wary eye on the cats in his blind spot, and carefully picking dirt from his coat, Alonzo answered the majority of the questions tossed his way with a clipped: "Yes" or "No". He hoped he came across as nonchalant and aloof and not as paranoid and nervous as he really felt. They didn't need any details and, anyway, he wasn't the one who needed to provide them. Why they had even bothered talking to him, a complete stranger, in the first place was a mystery. If Alonzo were them, he would have already sent him upstream. Demeter and Bombalurina would be able to answer their questions much better - they actually knew these cats and they, quite obviously, knew the queens in turn.

That left an odd, sour feeling at the back of his throat. But Alonzo had no desire to unpack that - not now or ever. They'd finally dismissed him, leaving him to wander anxiously, and instead, he focused his energy on examining his new surroundings and fruitlessly avoiding the inevitable.

Frankly, this place seemed almost too good to be true. It was so...quiet. Alonzo couldn't remember a time when he hadn't heard the dull edge of whispering leaking from every corner, the odd high pitched whine that never seemed to leave the air, or the clinking of glass and claws ringing against window panes. Especially at night. That's when the Mouser's Palace had always sung the loudest. For better and worse. But here, amidst the trash piles and broken human paraphernalia, aside from the occasional passing car and dripping pipe, it was near silent. And not in a suspicious way, either. Just...a genuinely calm one. Which really offset its rather unconventional setting, he had to say.

Wasn't it ironic that their little dreamland was a literal pile of garbage? Life was funny. But, hell, he'd take it. Not like he hadn't lived in worse places. Pretty things near always seemed to hide more nefarious secrets under their surfaces, at least in his experience. He'd take a junk pile over crawling scratch carpet and high arching ceilings and peeling gold leaf paper and massive colorful windows any day.

What was important to him was that, at long last in however many years it had been, Demeter and Bombalurina were back home. They weren't under the heavy weight of Macavity's claws anymore. Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie had been cried over by cats who must have been their parents. The kittens were finally safe, like they'd always deserved.

If they were lucky, they'd stay safe. There were never any guarantees in life. But Alonzo tentatively hoped that, perhaps this time, there could be at least one of them. If only for these particular cats.

All in all, it could have been much worse than a few scrapes and bruises and broken parts. They'd made it somehow. He'd done his job. Maybe not the best job, but they were alive. Demeter and Jemima were alive. They didn't need him anymore. Their little charade was coming to an end.

All he had left now was to say goodbye, and, considering what they'd just been through, it was turning out to be more difficult than he'd thought. Hence the wandering. At this point (though he hesitated to admit it for fear of putting the suggestion into the universe) he'd rather have been raked across the face again.

Of course, he could just take the coward's route and leave without a word, slipping into the night on his own. It wasn't too late. Alonzo always had known that route by heart, having traveled it many times before. But this time, damn his conscience, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Finding his friends was an easy enough feat, even in vastly unfamiliar territory. In the sea of overwhelming new smells, he'd picked up on theirs almost instantly and followed diligently after. He'd likely never forget that particular mix of smells for the rest of his nine lives. It had become something that, if Alonzo were the sentimental type, would register somewhere as close to home as he'd ever been.

But Alonzo was not the sentimental type.

When he'd entered the nursing den, stomach turning with the sharp overlay of medicinal herbs (and nerves, but he'd blame the herbs if asked), Alonzo felt as though he were suddenly too big for his surroundings. He wasn't a small cat by any means, and he knew that, but there was something about this place that was unusually fragile and dainty. Like if he shifted too far in any direction the walls would come down, or if he stood up straight the roof would cave in. Strange.

Demeter's familiar golden form caught his eye immediately, stretched languidly over the padded cot on the floor, Jemima sitting between her forepaws. Alonzo's heart swelled and sunk simultaneously. They were, miraculously, still awake and whispering between themselves; the familiar nighttime back and forth that they shared, just the two of them. In their own little world. Alonzo had wondered, on occasion, what they talked about so intently, but never got around to asking. He thought it better to leave it between them, content enough to just...watch. Hesitantly just on the outside; at an arm's length.

Bombalurina was curled far enough away to allow the queens their privacy and give herself and Electra their own, but close enough that she could keep an eye on them. He wouldn't have expected any less. Even so, she seemed to have slipped her watch for just a moment, and was sleeping very much like the dead (as though she hadn't slept - hadn't truly slept - in years), Electra fast asleep beside her. Good. At least someone was getting some sleep around here.

Releasing the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, he ducked farther in.

Demeter noticed him first, looking up at him knowingly through the fan of her lashes. She looked...almost relieved to see him. Maybe even surprised as she nudged Jemima to look as well. "Look who it is."

Jemima turned around quickly, eyes lighting up at the sight of him.

"Alonzo!"

And just like that, it felt like any courage he had gathered up immediately flew off, never to be heard from again. Alonzo practically felt himself deflate. Damn it.

"Hey," he greeted, keeping his voice low to set the example. "You still awake? I figured you'd be out cold by now."

"I was waiting for you, 'cause I have a fantastic tuition," Jemima said matter-of-factly, trying to match the new volume, but just barely succeeding.

Alonzo smiled tightly at the seemingly nonsensical statement. Of course she was. Careful the things you say and all - hadn't he been the one to teach her that?

Nearly every queen of kitten-bearing age in the Mouser's Palace was sent to the basement eventually. Sooner or later. Some stayed on after, finding a sort of comfort in that old shipping warehouse, some did not, and some abandoned their kittens as soon as they could, leaving them mewling and hungry until another cat took pity on them. Or they disappeared. Or the other thing happened. The far less optimistic one.

Demeter, like the rest, had eventually ended up down there as well, and hadn't been permitted to leave, even as the colour had returned to her face and Jemima had started walking. Quite the downgrade from her rooms upstairs, or so Alonzo had heard; he, like most of the other henchcats, hadn't been allowed anywhere near Macavity's quarters. But such were The Mystery Cat's plans of operation, right down to the last well oiled gear. Eventually, they were all disposable, no matter how high up the ladder. It was just a matter of time.

Alonzo never went into Demeter's crate (with its one missing board) even when invited. At least never at first - something about it didn't sit right with him. Demeter got so little of anything to herself those days, and besides, Alonzo didn't want to imagine what would happen to either of them if he was ever caught in there. It wouldn't look good at all. Demeter may have been demoted down below with the rest of them, but she still belonged to Macavity. He had never been shy to emphasize that point, over and over again, with purple blossoms hidden beneath Demeter's collar and rings worn into her upper arm.

But even though he didn't enter the crate, Alonzo sat outside of it when he was able, even stumbling down late at night, bleary eyed, after a conference had gone too long, or a particularly long and grating watch rotation came to an end. That had been the case that particular evening, when one of Macavity's little...rendezvous had gone completely south. He'd been lucky to escape that one with his tail in tact.

Exhausted as he was, it was worth it to give him some semblance of peace of mind, even for a little while. When he wasn't able to make it back for the evening, his skin would prickle and itch with anxiety until the sun came up the next morning. Being away from them felt wrong. It all felt very wrong.

Bombalurina was there, she'd look out for Demeter when he couldn't make it. Hell, she'd probably do a better job. And Demeter wasn't helpless. But it just didn't feel like enough.

It never felt like enough.

There were some cats around these parts that sniffed around the basement crates like they were looking for treasure. And really, the entire basement was filled with it - whatever your fancy happened to be. Crates that weren't littered with other cats were stuffed full of trinkets of all kinds. Getting away with it was easy, too; not like any of the henchcats took serious inventory. And the ones who did often...forgot the odd bauble here and there for report. Macavity wouldn't miss what he didn't know he had.

As for the rest, well - most of the henchcats upstairs ignored whatever noises came from the makeshift mills downstairs, queens and kittens alike. None of their concern. No one who valued their neck would say anything. Looking the other way reaped more reward.

Alonzo didn't like thinking about that. Not in the slightest. Because there was, quite literally, nothing he could do. So he sat. And he watched. And he buried all of his fear deep inside of himself.

But he also sat outside, particularly on nights like that one with the moon full and high, because a certain little friend of his was becoming quite the lone midnight wanderer, much to the concern of her mother. So, without any second thoughts, Alonzo pulled double duty.

Speak of the devil.

"Pump the brakes, little lady," he grumbled, stretching out his tail to halt Jemima in her tracks. He caught her arm before she tripped. "What are you doing awake at this hour?"

Jemima had blinked hard and whipped her head around to look at him, as though snapping out of a trance. She always seemed uncertain when he asked her that question. Almost as though she wasn't sure herself. Alonzo never liked that look on her face. It looked eerily similar to an image burned into the back of his brain that the tomcat wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.

"I had a funny dream," she muttered at last, crawling back over his tail to sit next to him. Alonzo hummed non-committedly, glancing down the corridor. No one was around. He shifted closer to her, just in case. Never knew with this place.

He wondered to ask her what was so funny about her dream, but Jemima rarely blamed her dreams for keeping her awake unless they were unpleasant. He'd figured that out the hard way, and learned it better not to pry unless she needed to talk about it (or he felt like filling the rest of his night with his own round of nonsensical nightmares). Not that he really had the tools to talk her through it like Demeter or Bombalurina did anyway. Try as he might, that just wasn't in his skillset. Instead, he rubbed her ears and hummed again, in what he hoped came across as a sympathetic gesture. Or at least a comforting one. They were still so soft and fragile at this age - like downy little birds fresh from the nest. It was a wonder how they survived.

It was a wonder any of them did.

"Why are you still awake?" she asked after a moment, allowing him to brush the fur away from her eyes over and over, even when it was already flat.

"I was waiting for you," he'd said quickly. That was close enough to the truth that he hadn't felt bad that it technically was a lie. He didn't like lying to her. Alonzo was concerned that "keeping watch" would frighten her, and lead to difficult questions like "Keeping watch for what?"

And Alonzo never could come up with a good enough answer for that one.

Jemima didn't need to know the type of characters lurking around these basements at night. Sure she lived at the Palace, spent most of her daylight hours wandering around the dusty beams of light that squeezed through down there; she saw the diluted glimpses of how bad it was, but she was still just a kitten. Alonzo figured there'd be plenty of time to learn about that later down the line. There was already enough on her plate as it was for such a small thing. It wasn't lying; it was omission. Demeter had taught him that one.

Completely different thing.

"How did you know I was coming?" Jemima had inquired, pressing her face into his ribcage (and couldn't he just feel every bone bumping concerningly against her skull - when had that happened?) and rolling her sleepy eyes upward.

He tapped his temple and winked (though how successful he ever was with that particular gesture was debatable - Bombalurina had told him once it looked more like a spasm). Still, keeping the situation light seemed to usually do the trick, and Jemima wasn't much of a critic. "I have fantastic intuition."

Or, rather, she nearly always wandered out of the crate on nights it was raining, or the moon was full. She wandered when she was happy or sad or had too much on her mind. She seemed to float from time to time, eyes dull and far away. He was almost certain she slept walk and didn't even realize it. He knew her routine like the back of his paw.

All in all, the chances were high. But intuition sounded better.

"I like that word," Jemima mumbled, testing it in her mouth. "It's like bubbles."

"Sure it is, kiddo."

"Can I stay here until morning?" she'd asked, already settling right in. "I want to say goodbye to the moon and I can see it better here."

A bad idea. "Goodbye, huh? You think you can stay awake? The night's a long time."

"Yup," she said quietly, clearly already falling back asleep. "The morning is more brighter."

Out of the mouths of unusually on the nose and cryptic kittens.

"Yeah," Alonzo agreed, tucking her closer to his side in barely fought for defeat, glancing down the dark stretch of breezy corridor again, swearing he saw a flash of light. The night would be very long. "It is."

"A tuition, huh?" Alonzo echoed, dimly coming back to the present. "Well, as always, you've got great 'tuition'."

"Uh huh!" she agreed, looking up at her mom who tried to smile for her.

The tomcat sighed, and crouched down, motioning the kitten towards him.

"C'mere. I got something to tell you."

Demeter glanced up at him again, lips pursed to the side and eyes dull. There was the full look he was fearing - the look of withdrawn acceptance that graced her features far too frequently. She knew what he was doing and had already started steeling herself away. He tried to avoid her glance, but it already was digging its claws into his conscience. Still, she nodded at Jemima, who obliviously and immediately fumbled towards him.

When she stopped in front of him, she motioned for him to come closer in turn. He tilted his good ear towards her, and she grabbed it with her little paw. Only for Jemima, he thought, wincing. Only for Jemima he'd let his ear, whole or otherwise, be pulled or touched or chewed on. Another cat would find themselves scratched before they made it halfway.

"I kept my eyes shut the whole time," Jemima whispered conspiratorialy, glancing over her shoulder at Demeter, who was still watching them closely. She looked sad and disappointed and empty, and Alonzo felt a stab of guilt at keeping her awake like this. But before he could wallow anymore in his own self imposed misery, Jemima let go of his ear and leaned over to catch his eye again. "Did I do good?"

She was referring to their previous escape plan. Or at least her part in it anyway. When it came time to make a run for it, he'd told the kittens to keep their eyes closed. "Keep 'em closed," he'd instructed. "And don't you open 'em until we say it's okay, got it?"

This instruction had been partially to give them something they could focus on so they were more likely to be quiet, and partially because he hadn't been sure what they would see if they didn't. No use scarring them any further than they already were. Electra had nodded and tucked her face into her mother's coat, but Jemima had just stared at him wide eyed, overwhelmed and sensitive to the whirlwind of emotion around her. She had been, quite literally, paralyzed with their fear. Demeter had held her tighter, gently murmuring that they'd be okay, to listen to him, but Jemima had started squirming and shaking her head, insisting that they would all leave when her eyes were closed. It escalated quickly. Alonzo, already choked up on adrenaline, fearing someone would hear her meltdown, had turned back to face her, clamping down on the way his paws shook so he could grab hers.

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Look at me."

She stopped squirming and looked up.

"We're not gonna leave you alone," he'd insisted, squeezing her little paw, perhaps a little harsher than intended, but everything felt like too much in that moment. "I'm not ever gonna leave you alone, alright? It's.. it's all gonna be fine, I promise. But you gotta trust me, and keep your eyes shut okay? You trust me?"

Jemima had nodded, sniffling, and with a last long look, had turned and buried her nose against Demeter's chest.

With the meltdown avoided, they'd set off for the last time from that awful old building. Alonzo didn't think too hard about what he'd said, or how it might come back to bite him. He had to focus on sticking to Bombalurina's plan and remembering where everyone was supposed to be. He had to keep track of where Jerrie would meet them, and which direction they were headed, and keeping tabs on whoever would be lurking nearby, and keeping cool headed. There wasn't any room left to regret.

So they'd set off, and Alonzo had put it out of his mind.

And Jemima kept her eyes shut the entire way, silent as a church mouse as they slipped into the night.

"You did so good, hon," Alonzo affirmed, tweaking her whiskers. "So good. What'd I tell you - didn't I promise it'd be okay?"

Jemima nodded eagerly. "Yeah! And I wasn't even scared a little bit."

"Not even a little bit?" The tom made a show of widening his eyes at the white lie. "Man, you're getting to be so tough. Don't even need me anymore, huh?"

"Nope! I'm brave!"

That she was. But she'd have to be braver still. Testing the waters that way rarely worked on kittens.

"Listen, Jem, I -"

"Your face is dirty," the kitten interjected.

Alonzo almost laughed, though how much of it was bordering on dwindling adrenaline tinged hysteria at this point, he wasn't certain.

"I-it is, huh? That's no good."

"Yeah it's yucky." Jemima reached to touch his cheek, but he carefully caught her paw before she smeared any blood around, or accidentally shoved any debris in the wounds. He probably looked awful; no use making it worse. She wrinkled her nose.

"Miss Jenny can fix it for you. She fixed Mama and Bomba."

"I'm sure she can," he agreed, wondering if "Miss Jenny" was the ironclad grip from earlier. "But I think I'm okay."

"She gave me a biscuit after she checked me!" Jemima continued, bouncing on her toes. "And Electra! She'll give you one too, I think. Then you can have a bath because you smell."

That time, Alonzo did laugh, but it sounded more like a forced exhale than any sign of good humour. As unique as Jemima was, kittens were always kittens; abrupt and painfully honest. "Sheesh, you're breaking my heart here. I'm gonna miss you, little lady."

Jemima withdrew slightly, looking suddenly sharp and alert. "Where are you going?"

"I'm...I don't know yet," he admitted. "But it's time for me to go."

"Well, when are you coming back?"

"I…won't be."

Jemima looked at him uncertainly. "...Me and Mama are going with you?" She sounded slightly disappointed by the idea, having already grown to like her new surroundings. Though he supposed anything was an improvement over shipping crates in a musty old basement. "Do we have to go right now?"

"No, Jem," he corrected carefully. "You're going to stay right here."

"So...you're gonna leave us?"

There it was. And there was that Demeter look on her face

"I'm not...it's not like that. I'm not leaving you, I'm just..." Alonzo huffed. Leaving you, just like you said you wouldn't, his brain supplied.

He tried again. "You'll have lots of new friends here, lots of cats to take care of you, and you won't need me. I gotta go somewhere else where cats need me." Liar, his conscious hissed at him again. No one needs you.

Jemima thought on this.

"I…ah," he tried desperately to simplify the complicated feelings swirling in his chest. How could she possibly understand when he barely understood himself? That he needed to leave because he didn't belong here. He didn't belong anywhere. Belonging somewhere, being tied down, meant things tied to your tail. It meant you missed people when they weren't with you. And if something ever happened to you...or to them...

All he was was a liability at the best of times. They didn't need him taking up space; he didn't deserve their hospitality.

"I don't want to be another mouth to feed, you know? They have their hands full with enough cats."

"You can have my dinner," the queenkit insisted. "I just need a little bit." She pressed the pads of her paws together to show him, and Alonzo wished again he could just be hit across the face - it would hurt less. Hells alive, this wasn't fair - this wasn't supposed to be this hard. Why was he always so bad at this? How did he always manage to make everything worse?

"You're a good girl, Jemima," he forced past the lump in his throat. "Promise you'll keep being that way, okay?"

"I promise," she parroted back immediately, like an instinct, but it sounded empty and lacking any conviction. "But I don't want you to go."

"I know, but-"

Jemima blinked at him, eyes suddenly clear and bright, sparkling unnervingly. The pale blue darkened considerably. If Alonzo weren't so used to her sudden changes in disposition, he would have cringed away. Jemima had a way about her that made everything seem so...big but so small at the exact same time. She looked at you as though she were seeing clear to the other side of the world. Her voice was clearer, older, when she muttered: "You don't want to go either. You're just afraid."

Alonzo had no answer for that, stunned into silence. He didn't even want to acknowledge how deep she'd dug for that one. He felt as though she'd ripped the fur from his body in one clean swoop.

The unnerving ice in Jemima's eyes quickly melted into tears. Like a switch, she was back to being a regular little kitten. "You have to stay with me. You promised."

"Jemima," Demeter called gently, sensing the escalation. Even now she was coming to his rescue - what a coward he was. She looked so...exhausted. In every way. He needed to leave. He only ever caused her problems she didn't deserve. "It's time to sleep now. Alonzo needs to go."

"You promised you weren't going to leave me ever," Jemima insisted, turning her wobbling lip back towards Demeter. "That's what you said. I heard you. You're a liar."

"Jemima," Demeter said again, firmer this time. "Enough."

Jemima sniffled loudly and balled up her fists, trying to self regulate, but Alonzo was still staring at the space just above her ears.

Electra had woken at the commotion, and was staring silently at them from the shadows, eyes winking in the moonlight. If Bombalurina had woken up to listen as well, she didn't show it. Hell, he wished she were awake, too. The four of them looking at him with thinly veiled scrutiny. Might as well make a whole circus around himself.

He was quiet for a long time, listening to Jemima struggle to keep from crying. The sound hurt him more than he could describe.

"You're right, I did say that. I am a liar," Alonzo admitted, voice quiet and pathetic sounding to his own ears. Shame burned hot on his face, even as reminded himself that he was a grown tom; he wasn't a kitten being scolded for lying. Why did he feel so small then? Like he was making such a big mistake? "But sometimes...sometimes grownups have to do things that are better for everyone. Your ma will explain it to you."

"But it won't be better!"

"Yes it will," he retorted, wondering how this all had slipped so quickly away from him. He felt childish; may as well bicker like one.

"How do you know?"

How do you know what's good for anyone? You don't even know what's good for yourself.

"I just...do," he insisted again, but it sounded weak. Tired. Give up. You don't want to go. You can’t even do that right. "I don't belong here."

"You do!" Jemima insisted, rubbing angrily at her face. "You belong with Mama, and Bomba, and Electra, and Jerrie, and Teazer, and me."

Alonzo glanced up around the room. Electra was poised, silently nodding. Bombalurina, having pushed off her feigned sleep to eavesdrop, as suspected, looked...troubled. Demeter looked expectant, as though she had caught a breath to hold and wasn't sure whether to release it or not.

And Jemima, his dear little Jemima, was looking up at him as though he'd hit her, and, more than any other time in his pathetic life, he hated himself for that.

"And...and that means you belong here," she concluded. “You’ll stay with me a-and you'll be my dad. I don’t have a good one of those.”

Alonzo's expression twisted in on itself violently. "Oh, honey," he managed to choke out, voice rough. The frayed edges of panic gripped at his chest as any resolve he had left slipped further from him. "I'm...I'm not your dad."

“But you could be, if you want.” Jemima turned back towards Demeter, as though the issue were simple, like asking permission for a sleepover. “Mama won’t mind. Right?”

Demeter blinked, but a twitching, hesitant smile was threatening to pull at the corners of her muzzle.

Well...shit.

"You're s'pposed to be here," Jemima whimpered as a final resort. "I just know it."

Alonzo sighed, long and loud. His mind was reeling a mile a minute. "How do you know it?"

"I just do. I don't know why," she muttered, throwing his words back at him in retaliation, kicking at the floor. "Please don't go away. Stay until the sun comes."

Just until the sun comes.

For Cat's sake, what was he doing?

Jemima curled into his side the moment he'd defeatedly lay down, as though she feared he would try to leave when she fell asleep, her little purr rattling his ribs. He could still feel the delicate outlines of her bones, just slightly too close for comfort. But maybe that wouldn't be a problem so much anymore. Time would tell.

Bombalurina and Electra had turned away and gone back to sleep as the show concluded. Demeter was still looking at him out of the corner of her eye, though the gaze was warm and it felt...different. The golden tomcat stared up though the gaps in the roof, through to the stars and the moon, wondering how exactly he'd wound up in this position. Wondering if he'd ever had the strength to leave, or if he'd always been selfishly hoping he'd stay.

For a moment, he heard Cesare's words echo pointedly in his ears. That slimy bastard was always poking his nose where it didn't belong, and if he never saw him again it would be too soon. But even miles away he still managed to slither under Alonzo's skin.

"You've gone soft, patches."

And maybe he had. Maybe he'd turned to full on pulpy mush in the face of one stubborn queenkit and her equally stubborn mother and their ragtag group of Junkyard cats. It sounded sickeningly saccharine just turning it over in his mind. If you had told him a year ago...But, at the moment, with Jemima's tiny pin prick claws catching his fur and Demeter's tail gently moving to brush his, feeling for a moment - just a fleeting painful moment - that maybe he did belong, he was struggling to recall why that was such a bad thing. Maybe he could get used to this.

Ah, hell, he'd figure it out in the morning. The morning is more brighter, after all.

#Alonzo #Jemima #Demeter #Bombalurina #Electra #other cats mentioned #my fanfic #fanfiction #did i get sappy at the end? yes #this is nearly 6000 words what have i been doing with myself #i also very briefly borrwed amie's Cesare *again* because he's such a great naysay voice in that space #please note the trigger warning for a reason - again it has nothing to do with the main characters but it does get mentioned #does jemima sense that alonzo will do something important in the future? yes she just doesnt understand it

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furiosophie · 3 years

Note

maybe a little more oh the things we left behind epilogue fluff??? ;u; i know the entire epilogue was fluff but i am insatiable

yes very good thinking anon and sorry for the long wait my brain is just a heap of goo right now but here we go - some ottwlb fluff set between the Mandalorian war and the very last scene of the fic, a small compilation of how Din found the rest of their family:

oh the things we found

small TW for mentions of blood and trauma

Din doesn't in any way plan on becoming a magnet for Force-sensitive children, he really doesn't, but it happens regardless, something about his unique combination of Force-null beskar, Force-conduit darksaber, and Force-bond husband drawing them in like moths to a flame.

He finds Rey first, on a recon mission out to Jakku, casing a distress signal from a lost covert. She can't be any older than Ben, who is seven now and an absolute terror, but in comparison to him, she doesn't listen to Din one bit, her whole life just a series of defying the authority figures around her. She dangles from a rope above him, in the hollowed-out remains of an Imperial Star Destroyer, sticking out her tongue at him. "I'm not coming with you!" she declares while Din tries to position himself in a way that will allow him to catch her if she slips. "I'm waiting for my family. They're coming to get me!"

He doesn't have the heart to tell her no one in their right mind would ever willingly come back to a place like Jakku. He places all his rations, most of his credits, and, just for good measure, some bacta spray on the ground below her like he's making some offering to an ancient feral god and leaves with an ache in his chest.

"She won't come with me," he complains to Luke later, pacing up and down in the living area of the Mudhorn while Luke brews tea. They don't technically live in the Mudhorn anymore, have their own quarters in the ruins of Yavin's temple, but they always end up here regardless, whenever one of them comes back from a mission, whenever they need it to be just the two of them, away from everyone's worries.

Luke hands him a steaming cup and places a soft kiss on his temple. "Don't worry," he says, in that cryptic tone of his, the one he uses to tease Din when he's being daft about something that's impossible for him to know. "She will." And that's that.

Din goes back. Once, twice, three times, until the sparse crowd of locals looks at him with pity in their eyes. She does come with him eventually, after his eighths visit, when he draws the darksaber on a dune beast and turns around to find her looking at him with the type of recognition in her eyes that he's only ever seen in the way Luke looks at Ben and Grogu.

"She's like you," he accuses when Luke greets them at the bottom of the Mudhorn's ramp, Rey perched high on his shoulders, her arms wrapped around his helmet so tight it's hard for him to see. Luke just smiles and reaches out so Rey can tentatively take his hand. The change is instant - as soon as their palms touch her whole body relaxes as if something in her is finally at peace and Din has to reach up to keep her from sliding off his shoulders. And well. That's that.

Finn is next, standing tall in front of a group of terrified kids, in a backroom of the imperial laboratory they just raided, his eyes ablaze and lips turned up into a snarl. "I'll fight you," he snaps even as Din can see his hands shaking around the mop he fished out of the supply closet as a makeshift weapon. "I'm not scared, I'll fight you!" And really all Din can do in response is pull his helmet off and fall to his knees with his hands raised above his head.

It seems to work because he gets all of them into the Mudhorn eventually, Finn curled up on the copilot's seat, staring out in wonder at the endless expanse of space while the rest of the kids are rolled up into every available blanket in the captain's quarter. It's a bit of a rough start - where Rey felt turmoil because of the things swirling inside her without guidance, all Finn has ever known is supervision and people telling him to be something he's not, his connection to the Force tempered down in all the wrong places, too silent and too loud all at the same time, and in the first weeks, Din spends a lot of time hugging him close to the beskar plating of his chest, taking strolls under the quietness of Yavin's trees like he used to do with Ben. Finn quiets eventually, just as Rey did, the two of them getting on like a house on fire.

Shara is the one who brings Paige and Rose Tico, two sisters left stranded and alone by the still raging unrest of the remnants of war, and there is barely a discussion before she decides to take them in herself, the two of them glued to Poe the second they step off Shara's ship.

He finds Armitage last, standing over the dead body of an Imperial officer, blood on his hands and all across his face, just a sliver of yellow in the green of his eyes. Din has bruises on his arms for a week from how hard the kid strains against him as he tries to drag him out of the Star Destroyer before it self-destructs, but he figures, all things considered, they'll be able to handle that too.

He turns out to be a menace, of course, too smart for his own good, and way too stubborn to let Ben get away with his teasing, which always seems to end up Luke and Din having to physically drag them away from each other. Din tries to do for him what he did for everyone else, to hold him close and comfort him, but he only ever succeeds in the quiet of the night when he finds him at the very top of the temple wrapped up tightly in Luke's arms, both of them holding onto each other for dear life, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks tear-stained, darkness hanging around them like rain clouds.

Armitage takes a shine to Bo-Katan though, amidst all of his defiance, a fact that seems to confuse her as much as it does Din, and he knows that that will probably spell disaster in the future given how fast and feral Armitage takes to swinging a lightsaber, but to his relieve the Armorer steps up to pull him to her workshop by the back of his neck and balances the murder in his eyes with ever-evolving engineering challenges.

And so it takes a bit, quite a while in fact, but they find their balance eventually, their weird ever-growing family, all of them slotting into each other in a way that sometimes makes Din wonder if this was their doing too, Luke's and his, if in bending the universe around them, and in becoming one in the Force they somehow became a beacon for all those who are lost.

He wonders about it on the nights when, even after Han settles down on Yavin more or less permanently to be closer to Ben, and even after Paz bashfully asks to officially adopt Rey who's been glued to his shoulders for months, and even after Armitage makes it very clear that he doesn't plan to ever be adopted by anyone, Luke comes back from an excursion to find Din pilled into their bed with a bunch of wayward Foundlings.

"Sorry," Din mumbles sleepily as Luke steps over a snoring Paz who's taken up guard in the hallway, "It just happened."

"Is there room for one more?"

"Unlikely," Din sighs as he always does, but Luke finds a spot anyways, shuffling the kids around until they are just awake enough to demand a story from him.

"It's late," Luke smiles as Din pulls him closer to lean their foreheads together in greeting, Grogu climbing up from where he was tucked beneath Ben's chin to settle in between his dads. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."

"Just one!" Rey pleads from her spot at Din's side, Finn's head popping up behind her in a show of support and Luke raises a warning eyebrow as Poe and Rose scoot closer from where they were sprawled over Din's legs. "You always say we need to be curious about the world around us!"

"It will help us sleep," Armitage argues from his spot at the end of the bed, the one he takes to pretend he doesn't care about any of this, and starts scooting close too, shoving at Ben to make space.

"They make a good point," Din interjects gently and pulls Armitage out of the way and between them before Ben can get up enough to headbutt him with Din's helmet, which is a constant on his head on those nights where they all feel pulled towards each other.

"Traitor," Luke laughs, letting Armitage nestle in closer to him, but he'll tell them about his travels anyways until they are all knocked out and snoring peacefully and Din can press a quick kiss to Luke's lips without having to listen to a cascade of "ew" and "gross".

And so, in the end, he always drifts asleep knowing he doesn't fully understand it, not really, how they all manage to fit so perfectly into each other's lives, how he managed to find this, this place that is domestic in a way nothing in his life has ever been, but he figures he doesn't have to understand it, not when he also knows with absolute certainty that they are all exactly where they are supposed to be.

#dinluke #oh the things we left behind #thank you for that lovely question anon #I had this in my head for a long time I'm glad it's out there now #they all deserve some cuddles and happiness #also yes I made most of them the same age to fit my timeline poe and hux are the only ones who are slightly older #imagine all of them as children in the same place pure chaos #I have some more of their shenanigans somewhere down in my notes #maybe I'll get around to writing them out one day #but now I take a nap #soph andswers asks #soph writes

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tarysande · 3 years

Text

S6 Thoughts: A Tale of Two Brothers

But wait! There’s more. Thoughts on the overall arc of the series, Heaven and Hell edition:

In S1, Lucifer is “vacationing” on Earth but doesn’t plan to return to Hell. Amenadiel spends that season trying so hard to force Lucifer back to Hell, where he “belongs,” that he himself Falls. We’ve got this role reversal of an angel doing evil things to return the devil (doing ... good things, like solving crimes) to Hell. It’s all very “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

In S2, Lucifer still has no plans to return permanently to Hell, but he’s willing to face it to save Chloe. Of course, this then leads to him experiencing his own forced hell-loop. Amenadiel is also conflicted. Though he’s changed enough that he no longer wants to force Lucifer back to Hell, he’s still uncertain where that leaves either of them. In fact, even when Lucifer pleads with Amenadiel to return him to Hell, Amenadiel refuses. However, when Mum plants the idea of returning to Heaven as a family, Amenadiel clings to that. He’s looking for a purpose. Lucifer, on the other hand, is still very much aboard the Heaven nope train. Here, we also get the foreshadowing of celestial war, and Lucifer’s rejection of Mum’s plan because “In war, there are always casualties.” He would rather sacrifice one--Mum, Uriel--for the many. But it hurts him. If he belongs anywhere, he thinks, it’s Earth ... but, ultimately, that’s shortsighted because we know he doesn’t actually want to be on an Earth that doesn’t have the people he’s coming to care about on it.

S3 is, as we all know, a bit of a mess. But, hey, it’s actually thematically appropriate! Lucifer’s having an identity crisis (wings) that just keeps giving (or taking), and even though subconsciously (we later realize) he gave himself the wings because he was, in fact, making progress reconciling his past and present, his conscious is backsliding like (pun not intended) hell. Much as he wants Earth to be home, he’s got these non-stop reminders of both Heaven and Hell. It makes complete narrative sense that this season reaches the point where he can no longer hide from himself--or from Chloe.

In this season, we also see Amenadiel really start to settle into the idea of staying on Earth, of embracing humanity. He’s shedding the aloofness he once had. He’s learning (we later realize) how to be the kind of God who sheds mysterious ways in favor of boots on the ground. I mean, he doesn’t realize this. But Dad ... well, he has a Plan. Lucifer begins the season with sudden wings. Amenadiel ends it with his wings’ very deliberate return.

In many ways, this season is about Hell on Earth and torture at the hands of an entity far more intentionally and deliberately evil than the actual devil. This is why the catalyst of Cain is so important. He is all the things Lucifer has been accused of being, only he embraces it in ways we’ve seen Lucifer reject and recoil from again and again. This season is torture (lol). It’s Hell. It’s every ugly thing lies beget. And much as we love Lucifer, we’re given an extreme close-up of how his omission of truth is very nearly as devastating as Cain’s outright lies. Of course, this nearly results in Chloe’s death (in more ways than one; you can’t tell me that godforsaken marriage wouldn’t have been like dying), and the devil’s vengeance results in the removal of Lucifer’s choice about the where and when to reveal his true nature to Chloe.

Which brings us to S4, aka The Season of Angst. For Lucifer (and Chloe), anyway. Not so much for Amenadiel, who is set on the path of fatherhood, of responsibility, of partnership and not just commands he expects to be followed. In case we’ve forgotten how much Amenadiel has changed, Remiel “mini-Amen” shows up to remind us. In Linda’s “When angels fall, they also rise” of it, Amenadiel is rising again. He’s not the same as he was, no, but ... we didn’t like old Amenadiel very much, did we? Like Lucifer, Amenadiel is on a journey of learning who he is, the good and the ugly, so he can choose the parts he wants to keep with both eyes open.

Of course, while Amenadiel is rising, Lucifer is falling. In having to deal with Chloe’s reaction to his devil face, Lucifer is put in the uncomfortable position of either growing enough to face his own darkness and self-loathing or retreating, very literally, into who he used to be because it’s comfortable and less frightening than the prospect of change and the unknown. Until it isn’t, right? The more he becomes the devil Eve remembers, the more uncomfortable he becomes. And the more frightening he becomes. Not to Chloe, as he fears, but to himself--though it takes a while to recognize it. If nothing else, we have to hand this to Lucifer’s subconscious: when it wants him to PAY ATTENTION DUMMY, it’s pretty good at getting its point across. If S3 was Hell on Earth starring Cain as the devil, S4 is Hell on Earth starring, well, the devil as the devil with bonus demons. It’s Lucifer’s earthbound iteration of a guilt-induced hell-loop. And at the tragic end, he chooses to return to the place he swore he’d never return, losing everything good in the process, but doing it for selfless reasons. So, that’s new. And it’s why there was still a sliver of hope even when things looked impossibly dark.

S5 begins with Lucifer in Hell--farther from the things he cares about than he has ever been, but also closer to his true calling. Not that he realizes it; this is Lucifer we’re talking about. So, of course it makes sense that as the season goes on, he’ll end up confused by suddenly having everything he always thought he wanted within his grasp. The Lucifer who led a rebellion against his father because he thought he could do better than God? Of course that part of him wants to be handed the job now. No--he wants to earn it. And while some of his reasons are not great, others are. His heartbreak about the injustice and unfairness of life, well ... who hasn’t felt that way? Who hasn’t wanted the power to unilaterally make things better? But that’s not how free will works. That’s not how choice works. While Lucifer wrestles with the necessity of becoming God, Amenadiel recoils from what his S1 self would have seen as his right and his calling. S1 Amenadiel would have made a terrifying and inflexible and absolute and judgmental God. Perhaps even a God closer to our imaginings of Evil than Good.

S6 is about how sometimes personal growth means we grow out of old dreams and acquire new ones. Sometimes, it’s about reimagining those old dreams, rebuilding them with new information. For Amenadiel, that means recognizing that the person he is now is the best man for the Big Job. It means recognizing that Heaven can be (a place) on Earth if he wants it to be. It means he sets aside the pride of “If God wants something done, he sends ME” in favor of delegation and accepting help--and in doing so, helping others (his siblings) discover their callings too. He learns to lead by example, tempered with love and humility.

In Paradise Lost, Milton’s Lucifer famously declares that it is better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven. But our Lucifer ... his calling isn’t ruling in Heaven. That’s the old dream of a person who no longer exists. Ironically, Lucifer’s calling is to serve in Hell. Not to serve a distant, ineffable, unfathomable being’s mysterious ways, mind you, but to tangibly serve the humans he has come to love, and who have taught him so much about himself. Who have taught him about love and sacrifice and light and darkness and second chances and hope and faith. When Lucifer chooses to return to Hell, he does so with his eyes open, just as Chloe returns to the LAPD with her eyes open. It’s a lesson that revisits the first episode of the season: Truth and wonder don’t have to be at odds. They can go hand in hand. The mysteries at the heart of pain and suffering and trauma--those are the ones Lucifer wants to solve. Because solving them isn’t about trusting to a higher power (aka the justice system, which is flawed) or designing the perfect torture. It’s about quite literally helping others set themselves free. Finding release. It’s about being a guide, not a judge. And it’s about fulfilling not the temporary desire that merely scratches the itch, but offering the tools necessary to help others determine--choose--their path to the desire they may not even realize is buried beneath the layers of scar tissue within them. And what could be more wonderous than that? Especially when you have a partner who makes you better at your calling, even as you make them better at theirs.

In the end, Heaven and Hell are what we make of them. One person’s Heaven is another person’s Hell. Love is what matters. In all its many, many forms.

#lucifer on netflix #lucifer morningstar #amenadiel #lucifer meta #chloe decker #lucifer thoughts #lucifer spoilers #lucifer s6 #lucifer s6 spoilers #long text post

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

strip it down | thomas

word count; 7894

summary; your best friend ask you if you’ll spend your summer break keeping fit with him so he’s ready for track returns in the fall, but he’s pretty distracting.

notes; this is based on an ask that I got, inspiring it, and it was just too good to pass up, so I hope you like it!

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, public sex, reference to injury, very brief reference to drink spiking (past tense).

You were just beginning to surface, enjoying the summer break you were getting for college, and happy to spend the summer in your own place. It was quiet, your roommate getting ready to go home, and you would have the apartment to yourself for weeks. Squeezing the pillow in your arms tighter to you, you froze, the bedding beneath you rising as it took a breath, and you jumped back.

Sitting up in your bed enough to rub your eyes, you growled a little as you recognised the chuckle that sounded, opening your eyes to find your best friend staring at you, his phone in hand as he slumped across your bed.

“Mornin’ angel.”

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed? You scare the life out of me, and it’s-” You twisted, picking up your alarm clock, one that had been promptly turned off seeing as it was summer break, to check the time, “-eight in the morning? Really, Tommy?”

“Did you know that you cuddle in your sleep?” He ignored your question entirely, and you sat up in the pillows beside him, the bedding still covering the lower half of your body as you covered a yawn, realising that you weren’t going back to sleep any time soon. “It was cute. Like, the second I got myself all comfy here, you put your head on my stomach, and a leg over mine, holding on for dear life.”

“Thomas-”

“Also, continuing with the cute cuddling thing, if I play with your hair while you sleep, you get this sleepy little smile, a-”

“Thomas!” His jaw snapped shut, turning to look at you, honey brown eyes catching flecks of the sunlight pouring in through the now open curtains, and it was no wonder you’d woken so early of your natural self, his lips pursed as he stared at you curiously. “Tell me what you’re doing here so early in the morning, right now.”

“Only if you tell me whether or not you knew that you cuddle in your sleep, first.”

“No, I didn’t know that. I’m not really a sleep-cuddler, I’m very picky about positions.” His jaw dropped, a cheeky look flashing over his features, and you held up a finger, shaking your head and shutting down the innuendo he was about to release. “Sleeping positions.”

“Just me, then? That’s adorable.” He tapped the tip of your nose, before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, standing up and stretching a little, the edge of his shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of his stomach, your eyes diverting. “You have a very comfortable mattress, is that memory foam? Anyway, the reason I’m here.”

“Finally.”

He shot you a mock glare, rolling his eyes at you. “You have to get up, because I want to go for a run.”

“And I want to go back to sleep, so that's gonna’ be a hard pass on the physical exertion. Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to keep being lazy.” He frowned, and you grinned, rolling over onto your other side and turning your back on him, and he scoffed a little. A second later, the covers that you had wrapped yourself up in were being tugged back and out of the way, a groan on your lips. “No, Tommy, let me sleep! If you’re really my best friend, you’d let me sleep.”

“No, if I was really your best friend, I’d carry you all the way back from the club on a Friday night after you called with your head in a toilet bowl because you got spiked, and stay by your side all weekend until I was sure you were okay.” He tapped his chin for a second, your stomach twisting just at the memories. “Oh, wait, I already did that.”

“That was low.”

“If you were really my best friend, you’d come on a run with me so I have company while keeping in shape for my track return in the fall.” He grabbed onto your ankles, pulling you down the bed toward him, and you yelped at the action, half of your bed hanging off of the mattress as you stared up at him in shock, his hands on his hips as he smirked. “C’mon, please? Minho is out of town, and I hate running alone.”

“Fine, but only if you buy me a smoothie fro-”

“From Annie’s Café? Blueberry, yoghurt and a dash of lime?” He reached over to the nightstand, a paper cup you’d failed to notice, and you sat up, reaching for it as your body moved closer to his, and he handed it to you. Peeling back the lid, you found it was perfect, the scent of the mixed fruits being a perfect combination. “I already got it on the way over here.”

“Okay, fine.” He cheered loudly, watching as you took a sip of the drink you had, humming happily at the taste that was exploding over your tastebuds. “Go get me some clothes.”

“You’re the best.” He held your face, peppering your cheeks with

You waved a hand in the vague directions of your drawers, knowing that he was familiar with where your things were, having helped you pack and unpack over the last few years, much like you had him, your final year of college bringing around a friendship that had lasted since the first day, and you crossed your legs on the bed, waking up a little more as you sipped your drink.

He dug through the drawers, chucking a pair of leggings in your direction, a sports bra following it, and some socks, and he stared at you inquisitively for a second, eyes scanning down along your body, licking over his lower lip. “Do you wear panties to bed?”

“Thomas!” You threw the empty smoothie cup at his head, and he ducked, laughing loudly as he avoided the assault.

“It’s a practical question! So, I know what to pass you!” You rolled your eyes, scooping up the clothes and looking over the bundle.

“Where’s my top?”

“I passed you one!” He paced back over, picking up the pink and grey undergarment, and waving it before your face. “See?”

“That's a sports bra! I need a top!”

He raised a brow, and you didn’t realise your poor choice in wording, his playful mood taking over. He moved back over to you, hands finding the edge of the bed, and he crawled up toward you as you edged back toward the pillows, placing a foot on his chest to keep him away as a smirk took over. “I could be your top.”

“Quit it, you perv!”

“Oh, so you wanna’ be on top?” He rolled onto his side, head propped up on his hand, wiggling his brows, and you scoffed, standing up with the bundle of clothing, and moving to the bathroom to get changed, his laughs echoing behind you as you went.

Shutting the door, you rolled your eyes at the muffled sounds of him moving around your bedroom on the other side of the wood, your face splitting in an uncontrollably wide grin, cheeks warm to the touch with a blush.

Brushing your hair and pulling it back into a style enough to run with, you turned on the taps, toothbrush first as you scrubbed at your teeth to clean them, drifting into your thoughts. Thomas had been your friend for a long time, the two of you having met on your first day in a freshman biology lecture, and even when you’d switched your major a few months later, he still stuck by your side. He’d been someone you could rely on and depend on since your very first day of real independence and adulthood, and so he had embedded himself permanently in your life.

You cleaned your face too, feeling refreshed as you went, before swapping out your clothes, folding your pyjamas up neatly, and unlocking the door again. Thomas had pulled the sheets on the bed neatly done, sitting on the edge, and smiling at you as you emerged.

“Ready to go, pretty lady?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be for exercise at the crack of dawn.” He looked like he was going to correct you, but your mock-glare made his lips zip back up again, standings and brushed himself down. Grabbing your keys, and locking up the apartment as you went, you let him take the small piece of metal, tucking that into his pocket too, and placing a hand on your lower back to guide you through the halls. “Just so you know, I haven’t done exercise in years. I’m going to make it, like, a mile. That’s it.”

He turned to look at you, nothing judgemental, just a fond smile as he held open the main door of the building for you to pass through first, the busy streets of the early morning crowding around you suddenly. “How about, we just go and jog around the park over there, huh? It has those nice trails through the woods, too.”

You glanced out, a hand shielding your eyes from the summer sun, a park you’d rarely had time to venture into, once on a picnic with Thomas and his friends last summer, but that was about it, and so it would be nice to explore it a little more.

Tightening your hair as you approached the edge of the grass, choosing one of the trails from the sign at the entrance of the park, quickly settling on a short one with plenty of scenery through the trees. The pace started slowly, and Thomas was happy to fill the silence with chatter as you went along, breaking out in a sweat long before he did, the sun beating down and your heart pending in your chest, throat growing dry, but you were willing to just push through it.

It truly was beautiful, the early morning sun was something you rarely go to experience, either locked up in class or the library, or catching up on much-needed sleep, and Thomas had always been the opposite of you in that respect, He was good with the mornings, the athlete in him woke him up when the sun rose, sometimes even beforehand, while you preferred late nights and the dark hours of the day.

Sunlight filtering through the trees, dogs playing in the grass of the main park before you got too far away, the rustle of leaves underfoot and the gentle breeze, the smell of flowers in the air. It was a memory you’d forgotten even having before getting caught up in college and stress, shutting yourself off as you buckled down for your education and career.

The first half-hour or so was a breeze, despite the sweat you broke out in and the pounding of the blood in your veins, you became accustomed to it, listening to Thomas talk. You held up your conversation, the two of you making plans for the summer before you returned to classes for your final college year, and you planned to make the most of it since you’d both have such unlimited time together.

In the second half an hour, the pace picked up, Thomas going quiet, occasional smiles that he gave you, before his skin began to shine from the exertion too, and you were swallowed thickly. Hair matted to his forehead, tanned skin only enhanced with veins that crawled along his forearms, blood pounding much like your own, and he was working at a faster pace than you as you became tired, only just having passed halfway around your set, jogging before you.

You tried to control yourself, but his shirt was stretched across his shoulders, the muscles in his back standing out, shifting under the thin cotton that was damp with patches of sweat, every movement of his arms making it clear, and you had to try and focus, almost swerving off of the path and tripping a couple of times as you failed to pay attention to the forest floor under your feet.

In the final third, everything went to sit. The tree covering thinned slightly, moving toward the centre of the day as the sun shone in the sky, almost directly overhead, and the temperatures were shooting up. Thomas had slowed to meet you again, growing slightly tired himself as you felt like you were dragging dead limbs along, sure you’d be achy and unable to move tomorrow, and at some point, as you’d dipped your head, you’d noticed the bounce.

It wasn’t your fault, your eyes were just drawn to the movement, almost choking on your own spit as you realised just what was bouncing under the thin basketball shorts, your eyes squeezing shut for a second and trying to clear the image from your mind, your brain going hazy and the rubbing friction between your thighs suddenly becoming prominent to you as you ran, wanting to squeeze them together.

You kept going, swallowing the lump in your throat and shaking your head clear. But then his arms were flexing, reaching behind his neck to tug his shirt away from his body, and your mind went blank. Shining abs, the smattering of dark hair between toned pecs and down to his happy trail making your mouth water, sweating skin glistening in the sun as he moved, muscles bouncing, like some kind of Baywatch audition, and you couldn't be held responsible.

Your feet got caught, a loud popping sounding before searing hot pain radiated up your leg, a cry leaving your lips as you hit the ground, rolling to as top, before splaying out in the dirt, a little dazed and confused. Thomas popped into view, concern written all over his features as he talked a mile a minute, so fast you could barely understand what he was saying as his hands found yours and he pulled you up, your eyes sweeping over him. Oh, right half-naked secret crush. That’s right.

“What the hell just happened?”

“I fell.” He let out a weak laugh, worry still holding his brows furrowed, though, and you reached out to him, smoothing your thumb over his forehead to rub away the creases in a way you’d done so many times before, particularly before exams. His features softened as you did, and he let out a little sigh, standing himself and pulling you to your feet. As you put pressure on your ankle, it gave way, and you wanted to scream, possibly even die a little, as you tumbled forward into his chest, his arms wrapping around you. “Nope, no. Ankle says no thanks, no today.”

He grinned, scooping you up under your legs, and carrying you over the grass at the edge of the pathway, luscious and thick green as he set you down, finding shade under a large tree, hidden by some bushes to shield your eyes, before he was kneeling before you. His fingers skimmed along your calf, your leg twitching as he did, before he was pulling up the edge of your leggings to get a look at it.

He hissed a little, fingers running over the patch, registering where the skin was already going hard, and the way you cried out and jerked at the touch, pain coursing through you, and he apologised each time, a sigh on his lips. “I don’t think it’s broken, just a bad strain. It’ll take a while to heal, though.”

“So much for our summer plans.” You whispered, his eyes finding yours, and you swallowed thickly, embarrassment creeping in. “I’m sorry, Tommy.”

“What the hell are you sorry for? It’s my fault you’re hurt.” it was your turn to be confused, his head dropping and eyes hidden from yours. “You could still be tucked up safely in your bed, totally not injured, but I made you come for a run.”

“Thomas, look at me.” He didn’t, still adjusting your leggings back over your ankles as he undid and retied your laces, tighter to keep pressure on the injury for now, and you hooked a finger under his chin, forcing him to look up. “Tommy, I know I complained, but I was having a good time. I always do when we hang out, even if we are running ourselves to death.”

His lips flicked up at the joke, but he still looked guilty. “I know, but I should have just worked out alone.”

“But you don’t like that, so I was happy to come with you. Stop beating yourself up.” He sighed, trying to let the tension go, and nodding his head. “Besides, I don’t get all gross and sweaty like this for just anyone, so cheer up, that’s how you know I wanted to be here.”

“You’re pretty no matter what. Sweaty, all dolled up, glitter in your hair at a club or all breathless and sweaty on a run, you’re breathtaking.” His hand came up to sit on your cheek, a thumb smoothing over your skin. “When I wanted you to fall for me, this isn’t quite what I meant, though.”

You stared at him for a second, eyes narrowing, and his usual cheeky grin flashed up, but there was something deeper in his gaze that you’d never taken long enough to notice before. “Did you just flirt with me?”

He looked taken aback for a second, wide eyes and parted lips, before a disbelieving sound left him, and he shook his head lightly “I’ve been flirting with you since the day I met you, but thanks for finally noticing.”

“You have?”

“Uh, yeah.” He deadpanned, your head emptying once again, and you watched as he twisted his body, sitting down on the grass with his legs spread out before himself.

“You took your shirt off.” He paused, looking down at himself, and his cheeks were tinged pink when he looked back up, confused. “You took your shirt off, and my mind just sorta’ went blank, and the next thing I know, I’m on the floor in pain. I’ve been into you since, like, last year. The whole system just short-circuited as you did.”

You waved a hand up and down yourself, and he frowned, not exactly the reaction you were expecting, the fear of rejection racing through you. “So, it was my fault you got hurt?” He looked totally distraught, lips in a pout as he stared at you, and you couldn't take it anymore. “I’m really, really so-”

Pushing forwards, your lips met his, his back finding the grass as your body crashed into him, a groan spilling from him as his brain caught up. One hand sought your waist as you lay atop him, the other lacing messily into your hair and tangling the strands as he kissed you back deeply and passionately, lips gliding with yours. You held yourself up over him, the pain in your ankle disappearing as he kissed you just as eagerly, an exchange that was long overdue.

It was frantic, and needy, his mouth working against yours until the breath was stolen from your lungs and your lips were stinging, desperate for breath but never wanting to part from him, a whine leaving you as he pulled back, gasping for breath much like you were. He pulled away, staring up at you as his head fell to the grass, a finger smoothing over your face as the tomb of the other rubbed circles into your hip, tucking under the edge of your shirt to find bare skin. “We should have done that a long time ago.”

“Yeah, definitely.” You rolled your lips together, licking the taste of him from them as you stared down at his flushed face, whiskey eyes twinkling as he stared up at you. “Wanna’ do it again?”

“Fuck, yeah, I do.” He leaned up halfway to meet you, neck craned and he hummed happily, this kiss a little slower and calmer, testing the waters as the initial shock and desperation died down, and he rolled you over, your back meeting the ground as he settled above you, your back coming down to rest in the soft grass. “Been dreamin’ ‘bout kissing you for years.”

He mumbled the words into your lips, one hand finding your shoulder, sliding down a little lower over your arm, pausing a little as he found your ribs, thumb brushing just under your tits through your clothing, your breathing hitching in your throat. His kisses shifted, trailing along your jaw lightly and your hips bucked up, a groan on his lips as you brushed over him, shy heat flushing your face once again as he paused.

“I meant it, y’know. I realised not long after we met that you weren’t going to return my flirting, but I liked you so much but then, and so I decided I’d rather have you in my life as a friend than not at all.”

His teeth continued to tease your skin lightly, and you shivered under him, his hips dropping down to press against you more firmly, and your eyes slipped closed.

“Pure torture, though. All your pretty dresses, movie nights where we’d cuddle, and you’d wear my jumpers when you came over, looking so cute that all I wanted to do was kiss you until your mind was empty, and wake up to you on lazy Sundays. I want you to kiss before exams and whisper good luck in my ear, before we get to celebrate late at night. God, I’m so fucking in love with you.”

“You are?” It was a startling realisation, your body jerking a little in shock, and he grunted as your core shifted against him, his lips bucking up to you in return this time.

“You don’t have to say it back, but it’s true.”

Your hands came up to find his face, bringing him close enough that your noses bumped and breath was shared. “I love you too, Thomas.”

He whined a little under his breath, nose playing with your own, and you tugged him in closer, until his body was pressed up to yours. The temperature was rising between you, making you feel suffocated as the gaze you were being fixed with by the man set you on fire from the inside out, and you pushed him back, breath caught as you looked at him.

Your hands moved to the hem of your shirt, skin itching to be rid of it as you felt like every nerve within you was speaking with electricity, tugging at it as it was trapped between your bodies, and he moved to help. Peeling your shirt up and over your head, it was a flurried collection of movements, sports bra revealed to him once again, and you sighed a little as your back met the crisp and cooler strands of grass again, his body covering yours as he followed you back to the ground.

One solid hand came up to your thigh, hitching it up onto his hip so that he could settle between your thighs, and as the hardening cock in the thin shorts he wore pressed up to your core, you both let out soft sounds of pure bliss at the friction. Dragging a hand down along his chest, your nail scraped over bare skin, sweat and slick from all his exertion, the dips between pecs and toned muscles twitching and clenching under your fingertips, and he let out a breath sigh into your mouth as his lips found yours once again.

Wet and passionate, his tongue teasing over your lip until you parted them for him once again, and he moaned as your tongue dared to come out and play with his own. You dared your hand lower, fingers brushing across the trail of dark hairs below his navel, until a single finger was tracing over his cock, and he whimpered needfully at the feeling, his bucking up into your touch as your hand was crushing between your bodies, the noises he made making your head spin.

Cupping him fully, you squeezed tightly, and his arms over you buckled a little as you did, his lips leaving yours so that his forehead could press to your own, hot washes of quickly panted breaths coming over your face. “Sweetheart, if you keep that up, I’ll fuck you right here in the park.”

“Sounds naughty. Sounds fun.” You mumbled, a slightly tighter grip as you rolled your hand over him, and he groaned a little under his breath, dipping down for a desperate kiss. Supporting all of his weight on one hand, the other coming down to peel your touch away from him, and pinning your wrist to the warm grass over your head, shaded by the tree the two of you were partially hidden behind, a growl on his lips.

“I’m not kidding.”

“Neither am I.” He pulled back, eyes finding your own as he evaluated your words, finding no joke in your eyes and a dark look crossed over his features, rolling his lips before they twisted up into a smirk.

“You know, I always pictured something romantic for our first time together.” Your breath hitched in your throat, the tip of his nose nudging at your jaw as his lips brushed over the sensitive skin of your neck, tongue brushing as he licked at his lips, and you keened up into him. I” figured it would be after a couple of dates, when I finally manned up enough to tell you how I felt.” He pressed a delicate kiss to your skin, and again, nothing rough about it, not at all what you’d expected, and you lifted a hand to lace into his hair. “I’d take you home, strip you down slowly, kiss every inch of your body until you were breathless, and then I’d make love to you for the whole night.”

“Big promises, think you can last that long?”

“Probably not, you drive me crazy with everything you do, but I’d give it my best go.” He laughed gently into your skin, teeth grazing over the spot where your neck met your shoulders, and he gifted one hand again, to land on your jaw to turn your face to the side, his teeth biting own roughly on that spot, and a loud moan left you as you felt him do so, not enough to break the skin, but enough that there’d be a mark, and your eyes rolled back a little.

His lips sealed over that spot, sucking harshly, and you whimpered a little under his touch, swipes of his tongue thrown into the mix, slow and torturous over your sin, and there would be a large bruise you’d be unable to hide for days to come. “Tommy..”

“I know, sweetheart,” He dipped down a little further, lips working over your skin until he was kissing down toward the edge of your sports bra, the tip of his nose dragging over a perky nipple beneath the elasticated material, and he chuckled into your skin at the needy noise you made. Hot and wet kisses, placed along your stomach, until he had reached the hem of your pants, humming under his breath, his fingers latching into the sides. “Are you sure about this?”

“The sex, or the sex in public?”

He lifted his head, a laugh flailing from his lips, cheeks flushed with warm pink as he stared up at you, an adoring look in his eyes that shone right through his amusement. “Both, I suppose.”

You collapsed back into the grass, feeling his finger twitch where they waited in your waistband, before nodding your head. “I’m pretty damn sure, Tommy.”

He didn’t waste any time, pulling your pants down just far enough to fall under the rise of your ass, bunched around your upper thighs, before your hips were falling down once again, a loud giggling falling from your lips as you did, squirming a little against the floor, and his fingers paused in their motions along the bare skin of your thighs that had been revealed as his brows rose. “What’s so funny, angel?”

“The grass is tickling my ass.” You mumbled, and he paused, your head lifting to look at him in the silence, and his face was split in a wide grin, trying to choke back his laugh as he stared at you, shaking his head.

“You totally just ruined the moment.”

“I did not!” You grinned, giggling as you spoke, before sitting up and moving to your knees, spreading your legs as far as you could with the stretchy material still around your thighs to kneel before him. Taking his hand in yours, you pulled it down, watching as he swallowed thickly, eyes still locked together, and his breath hitched as the back of his palm brushed over your yoga pants. The tips of his fingers traced over your sodden folds, your teeth caught prisoner between your teeth as his jaw dropped, and he took control then. “See? Totally not ruined.”

“You will be,” He mumbled, a threat that had your head spinning, and he was firmer in his movements now, a single digit swirling through your wetness and dragging up until he was bumping against your clit, a sudden cry leaving you as he did, and your fingers dug into the skin of his wrist. “So wet, sweetheart. That all for me?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as he began to trace slow circles onto the small bud, and he hummed under his breath.

“Thought about this so much, the way you’d look when I touched you, how you’d sound moaning my name, the way you’d feel as you came around my cock. You’ve been all that’s on my mind for so long.”

“Tommy..” You sighed his name out, pushing him a little further, and a dark chuckle left him as you tried to get more, feeling that sam wet pad brush over your entrance. “Please?”

“Use your words, I want to hear you say it.” His other hand came up, cupping your jaw, and you could feel his eyes burning into you, voice becoming raspy as he spoke low and quiet, words for only you to hear as the two of you tried not to draw too much attention to yourselves. His thumb brushed over your chin, dragging your lower from where it was held to press on them, stinging slightly from the scrape of your teeth, before you were parting them, allowing his thumb to press to your tongue. “I want to hear everything that this dirty little mouth has to say, go ahead and drive me wild, angel.”

You hummed around the finger in your mouth, hips bucking up into him as he circled your hole, never dipping inside but make sure to rub across you just enough to catch, making you absolutely desperate, feeling your juices flooding down onto his hand and smeared between your thighs as he kept this up. Sucking tightly on the finger in his mouth, he let out a broken moan, pushing his finger in further to keep you quiet, before one long finger was dipping into you, as far as he could reach.

The teasing, the build-up, everything had been overwhelming, all too much for you, and your whole body trembled at the simple addition, feeling him still as you acclimated to the invasion, before he was curling his finger to press at your walls lightly. “Nothing to say, so soon? I was hoping I’d at least get my cock in you before you were fucked senseless.”

He pulled that wet finger back, smearing over your china s your gasped for breath, and you opened your eyes to look at him. “You really want to know what I think about?”

“I really do.” He pulled back, beginning to set a slow rhythm with his finger, pumping in and out of you slowly, and you needed more. “You ever thought of me while touching yourself like this? I’ve thought of you, when my hand was wrapped around my cock, thinking about how much better it’d feel if it was you. Your hands, your mouth, this sweet little cunt, always you, though.”

Your hands ran up his shoulders, coming up to sit over his neck lightly, feeling the erratic throbbing of his pulse under your hand. “I think about your mouth, all the fucking time.”

Pink lips formed a smirk, his finger being joined by another and beginning to stretch you out picking up pace, and you could feel the knot within you beginning to wind up tight, pulling and twisting as you felt butterflies begin to explode for action inside. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, you don’t know how much you mess with it. You’re always licking your lips, and making these little smirks, and your cute little smiles, You rub at your jaw, and oh God, don’t even get me started on your hands.” You let out a gasp as the tips of his fingers found your sweet spot, exploring within you as he learned what made you tick, what made you moan.

“Right there?”

“Right there!” You confirmed, breathy exclamation of the words, and he focused his attentions on that, your mind going blank as pleasure raced through every vein in your body. You’d wanted this for so long, this kind of intimacy with your best friend.

You were close, close enough that he had a key to your apartment and stated over frequently, close enough that he’d seen you in your underwear before and close enough that you’d shared a bed, cuddling on nights when you were stressed before exams, showing up at his place in sweatpants with tearstained cheeks, and he’d bring you inside without a word.

This was what you wanted though, you wanted his lips on your own, kissing away every sound you made as it became more frantic, a wet sound filling the air, smacksmatchinging of your lips and the atrociously dirty sound his finger s made as they thrust in and out of your wet channel, a peak like no other beginning to take you over, even from the simple foreplay, purely because it was him. “I’m close..”

Your words were mumbled against his lips, and he only groaned under his breath, the palm of his hand brushing over your clit with every movement, the sparks of electricity it created were running along every nerve you had, and you rolled your hips down into his hand, searching for more of that friction as you chased your high right towards the edge. “I can feel you, baby, squeezing my fingers so good. Can only imagine how good you’ll feel milking my cock.”

“Thomas!” He recessed down roughly on your g-spot, nails brushing over your walls lightly each time he pulled back, a combination of filthy sensations that made tears line your eyes as it all became too good. “Tommy!”

“C’mon, baby, come for me. Make a mess on my fingers, like I know you want to.”

His words threw you over the edge, deep voice and dark tone, your face pressing into his neck as you cried out his name, muffling your sounds in his skin as you came, juices washing over his digits as he pumped you through it, shushing you lightly, a mixture with praises, telling yo how goo you were dong, and it made heat crawl along our skin to your cheeks as you realised how much you liked it.

You’d always been independent, relying only on yourself, and then Thomas had stepped into your life and forced you to depend on him just as much, and as he coaxed you through your climax, mumbling sweet whispers about how good you were for him, you crumbled to nothing under his touch. “Feel better, honey?”

“So good.” You whispered, walls fluttering as his hand pulled back, and you retracted yourself from his body long enough to watch him stick his fingers into his mouth, one eye dropping in a lazy wink as he licked the clean. Your hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, letting out a contented sigh as you looked at him. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

His chest puffed up a little under your touch and at the compliment, your finger moving in feather-light patterns over his chest, making him shake a little as you moved. He moved you, back, laying you down in the grass, slow and intimate, his body covering yours, kneeling between your thighs and moving to peel one leg free of your leggings, your shoe dropping off at your foot and skin raising with goosebumps at the summer breeze washing over flushed skin cooling you down immensely. His hands were supporting him on either side of your head another question about whether you were sure, but this one was unspoken, a look in his eyes said it all.

Dragging your hands along the bare skin of his back, you found the shorts he wore, basketball style, thin and silky under your hands, and you pulled on them, inching them down and far enough over his ass for his cock to spring free, wet and dripping with precum, bumping against you sodden folds, and you took a sharp intake of breath at the feeling.

His hips thrust up, instinctually as he twitched, the swollen head of his cock pumping to your clit, and the both of you let out soft whines at the feeling. Reaching between your bodied, your fingers wrapped around him, his lips parting and eyes sliding shut as you gripped onto his shaft, a few test strokes as he fucked up into your fist, before you were nudging his cock down, lining him up perfectly.

Sinking into you, his hands gave way at the bitten-off cry of your name that he made, dropping from his hands to his elbows, bodies pressed flush together as your hips sat snugly together, his throbbing length encased within your walls.

“I feel like I just went to heaven.”

You giggled, the movements making you tighten around him and he groaned at the feeling. When you were both ready, you circled your hips against him, rocking up into him slowly, and he reached down to latch a thigh up onto his waist again, no obstruction as your bare leg came up to his body, wrapping and holding him tighter.

“I promise, next time, it’ll be after a date. Something fun and romantic, and when we get home, we’ll be all alone, and I’ll take you apart piece by piece until you're crying my name, but not right now.” His lips brushed over yours, his head tipping to the side a little, before you could fee his cheeks twitch in a smirk. “But right now, I just want to fuck senseless.”

“So do it.”

“I intend to.” He pulled back, almost all of the way out of you, before he was slamming back into you, no warm-up or time to adjust, you back arching up from the grass as you met him, and you barely covered a loud moan with your hand before he was repeating the motion, a grunt on his lips as he did.

Your nails raked over his back, tearing welts into the skin as he picked up to an earth-shattering kind of pace, and just as promised, you were left speechless, absolutely fucked senseless. It was pleasure like none you’d ever felt before, stretched out around his length, long and thick and your breath was punched form your lungs as you gasped for breath with every thrust that he delivered to you. Leaning up, you caught his lips with you own, a kiss that he was eager to return as he let out a soft sound at the connection, lips puckering immediately to return the love, and you smiled against him.

Shifting your hips up to meet him, skin was clapping against skin, drowned out by the sounds of fresh water and birds chirping around you, distant chatter from the other sides of the bushes and trees that you were hidden behind. It was scandalous, the thrill that anybody could simply walk around this side and catch you, half-naked with your loved ball-deep inside of you, hand over your mouth as you tried to quiet your screams, you weren’t sure what you’d do.

Slipping your other hand between your bodies, you found your clit, rubbing patterns on it to match his thrusts, the high within you building up to reach cosmic peaks. Locking your legs around his waist, you flipped him over, a grin on his face as he found his back pressed into grass, your centre sliding along his length as you sank back down, seated across his thighs.

“Oh, so I take it that you’re feeling better.”

“I’ll probably regret it later,” You whispered, a jolt of pain sparking along your body as you caught your ankle at an odd angle, face screwing up lightly, and Thomas sat up to meet you. Wrapping your legs around his waist at a more comfortable angle, you let out a little sigh, his hands on your hips helping you to move. “That’s better.”

“Mhm, I’m glad.” He whispered, and you whimpered, hands coming up to wrap around his neck as you leaned in, close enough that your lips brushed, heads pressing together softly, and he circled your hips slowly. It was special, breath shared, and while it may be risky and erotic because of where you were, heated circumstances throwing your hormones into overdrive, you knew it wasn’t a mistake, it was the first step through the doorway you’d both been lingering outside of without realising the other was there. “I’m close, sweetheart.”

“I know, me too.” You whispered, picking up your motions and rocking yourself down into his body, every pulse of his cock making stars flash behind your eyes. Slipping a finger between your lips, he brushed the pad over your tongue, waiting for you to soak the digit before he was pulling it away, his mouth closing over your own, hand slipping between your bodies. He tweaked at a nipple through your sports bra, chuckling in the kiss as you whimpered his name, before he was finding the swollen bud between your legs. “Fuck, Tommy!

Rubbing lightly, he had barely begun, before you were tumbling into orgasmic bliss in his arms, locking up around him, body going rigid and your heart feeling like it stopped in your chest as you came undone. He held you tightly, your bodies pressed together, fingers laced into his hair, mouths sliding together in sloppy kisses as you tried to keep yourself somewhat quiet.

Only moments after you came, he was chasing right after you into your peak, his eyes rolling back in his head, tone raising just a little as he moaned your name, cracking slightly and you felt like you’d broken just hearing him say your name in such a way. Ribbons of hot cum filled you, making you shudder as you felt chilled from the outside as he pumped you full, and you felt tears line your eyes. “Oh, fuck.” You whispered, words dragged out as you felt your heart race in your chest, beginning to come down from your high. “That was incredible.”

“That’s an understatement.” He mumbled, lips moving along your jaw in sweet kisses, pressing gently as you waited to catch your breath, sweaty skin now even slicker, the run having had nothing on this kind of activity, as you came down, he flipped you over pressing you back into the grass so that your legs could unwrap from his waist, letting him pull away from you and collapse down onto the sun-warmed ground beside you. Tugging his shorts back up, you stared down at your one bare leg, your shoe metres away, and you groaned, trying to sit up.

A cringe was on your lips as you felt arousal still leaking from your core, and he chuckled, lifting a hand to brush lightly over your skin, watching as you tried to readjust yourself without putting too much pressure on the ankle that was still injured.

“Do you want to get a pizza?”

“What?” You turned to stare at him incredulously, snickering slightly as you reached for your shoe, and bringing back the shirt he’d dropped long ago as you did. Lacing up your shoe once again, you turned to face him, finding him still staring at you.

“Movie night. Me and you. A date. Pizza or Chinese food?”

You grinned, plucking your shirt from the bush-branch it had landed on after being flung away, trying to turn it the right way out once again. “Pizza works for me.” Your words were whispered out, a light sigh as you realised it was officially, and Thomas sat up upon hearing the crack in your voice. Settling a hand over your cheek, he pulled you down to his lips, a smile pressed between you as he gave you a simple kiss.

“I meant it, y’know. Everything I said, about how much I care for you, and how into you I am. I honestly do want us be a couple, have for a while.”

“I’d like that, too.” You mumbled, accepting the hands he was holding out to you, pulling you to your feet before letting go to tug his shirt back on over his head, a wisecrack on his lips about not wanting to cause any more injuries, and hide the marks you’d made on his back. As you stood up and balanced with weight on your ankle, you tested a first step, sighing a little. “Still hurts.”

“When we get back, I’ll get an icepack for you, and let you put your feet in my lap while we watch movies.” You huffed, his arm wrapping around your waist to help you go, and you twisted to look up at him a little.

“I’d rather be in your lap myself.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, turning to press a kiss to your temple. “That works too.”

“I should hope so. Your lap belongs to me now, girlfriend rules.”

“Alright, well that means that cute little butt belongs to me. Boyfriend rules.” His hand slipped down, pinching at your ass lightly, and you jumped, swatting at his hand as you steadied yourself and rebalanced on your feet, wincing at the pain on your swollen ankle.

“You are going to injure me even more.”

“It is not my fault that you can’t keep your eyes to yourself.” You gaped, shoving him with your elbow as he snickered. You continued on you walk, moving in slow and cautious steps as you began to make your way back to your apartment, hoping your roommate wouldn't be home to witness the messy state you were in, grass stains on your pants and Thomas’s knees, because she’d put it all together in seconds. The hand on your waist squeezed lightly, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the moment. “I’m joking, you have o idea how many times you’ve distracted me.”

“Now you can do something about it.”

“Yes, I can.” He beamed, dipping down to press a soft kiss to your lips, and you returned it, heading home for the first date for the man you’d adored for so long. Maybe exercise was good for something.

#thomas #thomas the maze runner #thomas x reader #thomas x reader smut #thomas/reader #thomas/reader smut #tomuary #tom-uary #tommy month #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner

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lydias--stiles · 3 years

Text

the smile you gave me (it’s magic)

juke | meet-cute au | tw: alcohol + annoying men in bars | written for @alexjulies as we have the same headcanons about luke

What Julie Molina was about to do was horribly unfeminist and Flynn would hate her forever, but really, it was all the man’s fault - as usual.

She rejected his advances three times now in the last hour. The bartender gave her a drink on the man’s tab and she sent it back, the man brought it himself (introduced himself as Levi) and she politely declined once more. The third time he asked her to dance and then she fled to the bathroom. Julie wasn’t the biggest partygoer, occasionally joining Flynn for happy hour - like today. Her friend was late however, due to an emergency meeting at a magazine she worked at and Julie had to endure the bar alone. Grave mistake. She should’ve just waited at a McDonalds or something; even if she’d look out of place in her cocktail dress.

im there in 15!! hang in there <3 <3

Julie groaned. Great. Fifteen more minutes in a smelly bathroom stall as women outside were drunkenly crying in front of the mirrors and babbled about their own grievances regarding men. For such a universal problem, she had hoped all men would’ve taken the hint by now.

No, she didn’t want to dance. No, she didn’t want a drink. No, she wouldn’t give her number to someone that kept pushing and coming into her personal space. Levi could fuck off. It was bad enough how he had given her a suggestive once-over like he was deciding whether he wanted brunette or blonde tonight.

The reminder angered her, pushed her out of the stall with a scowl. Was she really going to let a dumb man (nay: boy) ruin her night before it even started? Her songwriting session with Hayley Williams had gone really well and she deserved to celebrate that! She deserved to end her day on a high note! A quick look in the mirror to assure her make-up hadn’t smudged, she marched out the bathroom back into the dimly lit bar.

Her eyes scanned the room, relieved to not catch Levi close-by. Did he give up and leave? Was he cornering another girl? Whatever. As long as he wasn’t bothering her, she’d be able to breathe and maybe forget about the altercation.

If he did bother her again, she’d use her privilege as a girl and yell at the top of her lungs that he was harassing her. Surely then security would kick him out, right?

Over by the bartop was clamour, two men pulling each other into a laughing embrace as one hauled their backpack over their shoulder as the other dropped it. Changing shifts, Julie noted, halting on the man that had arrived. Well then. The theory that bars only hired attractive people seemed to be correct, the guy straight from a CW show. Mussed up brown hair, sharp features, big eyes, cute smile. A ten out of ten.

He shrugged his red shacket off, fully black outfit beneath and began washing off discarded glasses. His muscular arms made her throat dry up; he wasn’t attractive, he was hot.

(Oh God. Was she just as bad as Levi, gawking over a stranger? But wasn’t part of his job that girls were supposed to gawk over him? More tips and all that? Julie decided she shouldn’t feel too guilty.)

Her feet moved on their own accord towards the bar, sliding into a leather high stool and wondering what she’d order as she waited for any of the bartenders (him?) to approach her.

Luck was on her side, the new bartender pressing his hands into the counter, brows raised expectantly. “What can I get you?”

Her lips tutted, debating between a margarita and a strawberry mojito. Both were appealing and at a marginally low price. “What’s better?”, she asked. “Margarita or mojito? Honestly.”

He grinned. “Honestly?”

“Yeah.” She crossed her arms atop the counter, a brush away from his hands. “I’ve bartended before. I know you have to lie a little.”

His muscle tee shifted around as he chuckled, slivers of tattoos peeking through on his chest. Her eyes averted, hoping she was a bit more subtle than she felt, and kept them trained on the stacks of whiskey in the glass rack.

His fingers drummed on the wood. “The mojito, then.” Leaning in as if imparting a secret, he added: “We’ve been buying the cheaper tequila. Gotta pay those bills.”

Satisfied at his reply, she gave him a pleased nod. “Okay. A mojito, please.”

He pushed himself off with a click of the tongue, as if he auctioned her something, and turned to grab the ingredients. As he poured the rum into a tall glass, he fell into casual conversation she was all too familiar with.

“You here alone?”

“Waiting on a friend.” Eager to distract herself from the reason why she waiting, and what caused her to wait in a fucking bathroom, she asked: “What’s the tattoo?”

The bartender paused for a beat, as if momentarily forgetting he was inked up, and then tugged his shirt out the way to showcase more skin. Had she not been so curious, she’d focus on the fact that he was defined as hell. The tattoo was a detailed sun with an ocean wave drawn inside. More uncovered: a play and pause button, ‘now or never’, a stick and poke tattoo of a lightning bolt. It was as if she herself doodled onto her skin and then left it there, but it somehow worked. It was personal. Maybe she was also a bit intrigued since he seemed especially interested by music. Granted, it was LA. Everyone was some type of artist with varying degrees of success. Still - she was curious.

“They’re cool,” she complimented, him going back to making her drink with an appreciative grin.

“Thanks.”

“Was the lightning bolt a drunk decision?”, she teased. The only instance someone got a stick and poke tattoo was when they felt chaotic or impulsive.

His grin widened, throwing crushed ice in the glass. “That obvious? Yeah, me and my boys all got one. This whole idea of-” He waved his hands around, trying to find the right words. “-bonding us together for life, I guess.”

Warmth thudded in her chest at his story, endeared by the way his voice became lighter when he talked about his friends. They must be like brothers to him.

As he placed the completed drink in front of her, she contemplated her answer. She’d rather keep talking to him than wait for Flynn in silence. “That’s nice. Having friends like that, it’s special.” Twisting her wrist, she showed her own tattoo. “I got this one when I turned eighteen.”

They were two, small butterflies dancing on the inside of her forearm. When her mother passed away, she always knew she’d get something to commemorate her. Doodles of butterflies marked her skin in high school, finally becoming permanent when she was allowed to. Knowing everyone inevitably asked about the why, she continued talking.

“It’s, you know, it’s about metamorphosis and beauty and transcendence and I just-” She caught herself before blabbing her sob story to a stranger. With a chuckle, she muttered: “It’s a reminder that change is good.”

When Julie looked up at him, she was struck by the wonder on his face. He didn’t look as confident as he did before, probably taken aback by her sudden spiritual spiel about butterflies - or by her, in general. The thought let a quiet thrill course through her.

He snapped out of it, a smirk falling on his lips as his nail chimed against the glass. “It’s on me.”

“Is that a move?” Her head tilted, amused.

“You want me to lie or be honest?” The man leaned across the counter again, much closer this time. “Cool tattoo, by the way.”

She laughed, biting back a silly grin from blooming. This was his job, she reminded herself. Act all cute and get her to buy more drinks so that eventually, her tab would be enormous. It was like winning once at a game of poker and then becoming cocky.

Coy, she ripped her gaze from his and sipped on her drink. She’d let him simmer for a bit.

That was when it happened. Her unfeminist deed that would make Gloria Steinem shudder. Levi, the devil reincarnated, shot her a smug look from the other side of the bar. Swerving past people to the beat of the music, he tried approaching her again.

Julie groaned behind her glass, her good mood instantly shattered once more. Why couldn’t this idiot take a fucking hint?!

“Damn,” bartender mused, “I thought my mojito skills were good.”

The brash words tumbled out at a rapid pace, her need for a solution trumping her pride. “There’s a guy coming onto me right now and you need to help me ward him off. Please.”

He grimaced. “Yeesh. Ex-boyfriend?”

“Worse,” she bit. “A fool.”

A stressed smile pinned itself on her cheeks as Levi sidled beside her, one arm bracketing her left. Her back tensed as she shot a quick, pleading look at the bartender. He zeroed in on Levi, mouth curled downwards.

“There you are,” Levi grinned. “Thought you left.”

Julie didn’t entertain him anymore. “I’ve told you. I’m not interested.”

He dismissed her. “I see you got yourself a drink? What is it?”

“I’m not interested,” she snapped, eyes flickering once more to the bartender. Was he really not going to help her?

It spurred him into action, his arm reaching over to create a barrier between Levi and her. “Dude, you heard her. Back off.”

Levi snarled. “Can you not? This is between me and her.”

“No, actually,” he exclaimed, blunt. “I’m her boyfriend.”

Her vigilance got her acting swiftly, shifting her expression into a believable nod and placing a hand on his outstretched arm.

“He is?” Levi was gobsmacked, a hint of anger lacing his voice.

“Yeah,” Julie bit, silently thanking him when he played along and enveloped her hand with his. Her final strike spit his venom right back in his face. “So can you just leave us alone?”

The man rolled his eyes with a scoff, kicking one of the stools and mumbling a string of curses. “Bullshit…”

When he was out of sight again, having stormed off like a petulant child to a shadowy corner, Julie let out breath of relief. “Finally!” Shooting the bartender a bright smile, she kept babbling. “You have no idea how annoying that is. And smart idea - the boyfriend card always works!”

He squeezed her hand, worried. “You sure you’re okay? That was fucked up.”

“Yeah…” She trailed off, the soft touch reminding her of his words from before. Squeezing back, she watched as the pinch between his brows vanished. “I’m okay.”

They kept their stare for a beat, the revolving pop music and excited chatter merely background noise. Neither have let go of their hold on each other. She didn’t want to either; his hand was warm and gentle and a calloused thumb absentmindedly caressed her skin. Levi should learn from this.

Sometimes, a connection just happened.

He let go first, collecting himself into a casual stance that was far more amusing than it should be. Ducking beneath the bar and grabbing a beer, he tapped it against her glass with a cocky nod. “My name’s Luke.”

Julie matched his expression. Luke. Luke, the bartender. It fit him perfectly. “I’m Julie. Are you supposed to be drinking on the clock?”

“I work in a bar,” Luke deadpanned. “It’s expected. And I’m sure Jack can handle it.”

“Why would he have to serve alone?” she inquired teasingly, eyes glimmering with challenge. If there was one thing she loved, it was getting the upper hand in a fun game of flirting.

He lifted his bottle with a wink. “I’m drinking with you.” A pause, his gaze matching her intensity. Damn. He was a good opponent. “Unless you want me to go?”

She shook her head, took a sip from the mojito and wiggled her brows. “Cheers to warding off annoying men, fake boyfriend.”

“I better get some good karma from this,” he joked. “Cheers!”

(Later that night, she’d realise Flynn never came by. When she asked what happened, Flynn told her she had walked in and saw Julie completely wrapped up in a conversation ‘with that cute bartender’ and left. The joyous announcement that Julie got his number made her friend screech over the phone.

Julie went back to the bar many times. Drinking and talking bled until deep in the night, once till closing time and then he walked her to her apartment. He didn’t resist when she kissed him, his lips kissing back with hunger.

It didn’t take long for the ‘fake’ to be scrapped from that label.)

🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸

@blush-and-books @willexx @bluefirewrites @ourstarscollided

#as an apology for last night's angst #here's something lighter lmao #juke #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better

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galaxywhump · 3 years

Text

Warmth

For @whumpmasinjuly, day 12!

Timeline: set after Scars + Collared.

cw: slavery whump, forced relationship, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, forced domesticity, referenced noncon, nudity mention, suicidal ideation, discussion of drowning, referenced animal attack, alcohol mention.

~~~

It’s always warm on SV-240.

They’re near the equator, Daniel explained once, the only part of the planet able to sustain so much flora and fauna - and human life.

Wren can’t help but bitterly wish Daniel had crashed anywhere else, the lucky bastard.

There are no seasons, just temperatures fluctuating from pleasantly warm to unbearably hot, occasionally dropping to where they need to wear long-sleeved shirts outdoors; but there’s no winter, no snow, no chilly wind, and even the rain is lukewarm. Adds to the atmosphere of permanent summer vacation that Daniel enjoys so much, Wren supposes, wiping his forehead, his gaze fixed on the ground as he tries not to trip and fall on a terrain that he, unlike his captor, isn’t used to.

It’s one of the unbearably hot days, and they’re both exhausted after working in the garden in the early morning; the crops had to be harvested and watered, and the heatwave has been going on for a few days already, so waiting for it to end was too much of a gamble. Afterwards they tried to escape the heat by hiding back in the house, which didn’t offer much relief with how hot and stuffy the air was, and opening the windows did the opposite of helping.

“I have an idea”, Daniel said after a few minutes of miserably sipping on iced tea for a sliver of relief. “But we’ll have to walk for a while.”

At least this time it seemed unlikely that the idea would involve torture. Small mercies.

And so they’re walking through the forest, still and almost quiet, as if all the alien creatures have been defeated by the weather, forced to retreat into their lairs and burrows. Trying to find a bright side to the unbearable heat, Wren hopes that the predators are too lazy to hunt too; he remembers the attack, the creature biting into his leg and trying to drag him away, all too well. Daniel knows the planet, though, and has a weapon at hand just in case - a weapon that, Wren notes with silent resignation, can only be activated by him. Of course. It would be too beautiful otherwise.

“Almost there, sweetheart”, Daniel informs, and mere moments later they reach their destination.

It’s a small lake, closer to a pond, really, with impossibly turquoise water, like a kitschy postcard saturated to the extreme - but it’s real, surrounded by lush flora, with flowers (at least Wren chooses to believe they’re flowers) of vivid colors bobbing on the surface.

For just a moment Wren allows himself to be enamored with the view, with the underlying beauty of his prison, as rotten as his captor has made it.

Daniel exhales with contentment and throws his backpack aside.

“There’s nothing dangerous here”, he says, taking his shirt off. Other than you, Wren thinks, but keeps the thought to himself. “And the water should be cool.”

It is, Wren discovers with relief when he crouches down on the edge of the lake and dips his hand in it. The water is crystal clear when he takes some in his cupped hands, and splashing some in his face is the best feeling he’s experienced in a while. He sits down on the damp sand and takes a deep breath, closer to feeling at peace than he has been in ages.

“Come on”, he hears and turns his head to the side to look at Daniel, the illusion immediately shattered. “There are swim trunks for you in the backpack. Oh, there’s some beer and tea in there too, put it in the water so it can chill.”

“Sure”, Wren sighs, slowly getting up.

Orders are infuriating, no matter how casual and innocuous they are, but at least they’re sobering. He wants to enjoy this day at the lake as much as he can, as long as Daniel doesn’t try anything, but he can’t let himself forget that he’s here against his will, that he’s a captive, even if he’s not restrained, in the middle of a forest that he could try to hide in if it wasn’t for the tracker under his skin.

I’m always restrained one way or another. Even if he wants me to believe otherwise.

He changes into the swim trunks as fast as possible while Daniel has his back turned. Sure, he’s already seen everything there is to see, but if Wren’s given an opportunity to avoid being naked in front of him, he’s glad to take it. He nests the bottles in the soft sand, making sure they’ll stay put, and then, opting against the rational option of slowly getting his overheated body used to the chilly water, he takes a plunge.

The cold knocks the air out of his lungs and paralyzes him for a split second, thousands of microscopic freezing needles pierce his body, but the shock is gone as fast as it appeared, and he relaxes, opening his eyes and watching air bubbles rise to the surface. He feels weightless, slowly moving his hands in a steady motion to stay underwater, and he shakes his head and smiles at the feeling of his hair flowing through the water.

He could stay down here forever.

He could.

Suddenly he feels heavier as the thought appears in his mind, echoing the one burdening him on that nightmarish day, when he was staring at the wall, wanting nothing more than to take the plunge and never emerge. And now he’s here. He could inhale the perfect water, let it fill his lungs, close his eyes and finally be free.

It would be easy, and it’s so tempting, but...

Not like this. I can’t die here.

Expelling the last bit of air he has, he pushes himself off the bottom and swims up to the surface.

“Thought I’d have to rescue you there”, Daniel comments when Wren emerges and takes a big gulp of air. “I never asked if you can swim, did I?”

“You didn’t”, Wren replies, drifting away a bit to discreetly put some distance between him and Daniel. “But don’t worry, you won’t have to play the lifeguard.”

He regrets his words as soon as he sees Daniel’s smirk.

“So I’ll miss out on mouth-to-mouth breathing?” He laughs when Wren groans. “Just kidding, sweetheart.”

Wren rolls his eyes and disappears underwater again, escaping from Daniel’s voice into silence. He sits cross-legged on the bottom with his eyes closed, submerges himself in the cold, and with how different it is from the warmth of the planet he lets his mind carry him to Earth, to the chill of winter he only now realizes he misses so much it hurts.

~~~

taglist: @faewhump @inky-whump @whole-and-apart-and-between @whatwasmyprevioususername @procrastinatingsab @inkyinsanity @special-spicy-chicken @redstainedsocks @luminouswhump @spookyboywhump @lonesome--hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump @renkocchi @whump-only @rose-whump @muddy-swamp-bitch @girlwithacoolcat @wildlywhumping @sophierose002 @mnmlover2002 @whump-headspace @to-whump-or-not-to-whump @kixngiggles @ohwhumpydays @whumpvp @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams

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dokifluffs · 4 years

Text

Injured | Ushijima Wakatoshi

Pariring: Ushijima X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: fluffyyyy 🤧

Request: “Ushijima s/o taking care of him because he’s injured” - anonnie

Author’s Note: you got it, homie 🤧 Thank you for requesting and happy reading!! <3 I may have gotten a lil too carried away with this imagine 😗😗

It started when one day, you had to pick up Ushi from his practice about half an hour earlier than it was supposed to end

When you picked him up, he came out with crutches, his left foot bare but wrapped. Kageyama aided him and held the doors open for him, helping him into the passenger seat of your car

“Are you okay?” You asked as soon as he shut the door, the two of you waving Kageyama goodbye as he jogged back to practice

Fortunately, since it was the off season, practice wasn’t too long or as intense. Games were more spaced out than the games during the season, where games then were played more often

“Yeah,” he sighed dejectedly. You could see he was a little bummed out. It wasn’t the first time he had sprained his ankle- this was actually the second time but it happened again on the same ankle

“How’d it happen?” You refrained yourself from adding “this time” at the end. The first time, he rolled it and the doctor said it was a low grade one sprain but to make sure to stretch and be mindful while playing

“We were scrimmaging against each other and Romero got bumped into while blocking, so he handed on my ankle. It didn’t hurt too bad but it’s swelling a bit more than last time.” He looked at his foot as you drove through the city

Instead of going straight back home, Ushi had called his doctor before you picked him up so that’s where the two of you went to first

The day was cloudy, not too sunny but not too gloomy

Arriving there, you helped him out of the car and walked beside him as he walked with his crutches. The office was pretty empty so the wait was practically nonexistent

“You were very lucky this time, Ushijima-san. If the injury had been more severe, there could have been some permanent damage,” the doctor had said after running his physical tests and x-ray

You felt just the slightest bit of Ushi’s hand squeeze yours, his skin rough and warm from practice and years of playing. You couldn’t imagine what it felt like for him, the feeling of standing on the edge of a cliff and any further, he would’ve fallen: his volleyball career would have been over as soon as it started

Any permanent damage to his ligaments would have made his ankle weaker

But it wasn’t permanent. You heeded the doctor’s words carefully: let him rest, ice it for fifteen to twenty minutes every two to three hours, wrap it, elevate it

Again, this wasn’t your first time helping him out when he was injured but last time, it wasn’t as bad as this time. Last time, he was able to walk without applying too much weight that would cause him pain

The drive home from the doctor’s was calm. If Ushijima was feeling anything, you couldn’t read it on his face or the aura around him

“How was your day?” He asked, catching you off guard as you entered the neighborhood

“Oh, it was fine. I was doing a bit of work to get ahead and then I picked you up and here we are.” You worked from home, managing your own personal business as it steadily grew, especially overseas

Arriving home, you helped him out of the car and then held the front door for him. It was bright with a calming ambiance coming from the pale sunlight that shined through the tall windows, the light bouncing off the white walls

“I’m going to take a shower before resting,” he stated as he approached the stairs

You nodded as you dropped off your belongings on the kitchen counter but watched from behind him as he went up the stairs with his crutches, just in case anything were to happen

As soon as he was safely upstairs, you returned to the kitchen and prepared dinner. Music played all throughout the spacious room as you cooked away. You prepared a special hayashi rice for him knowing how much he liked it and maybe, this would raise his spirits a bit more

Though you didn’t even know if he was disheartened or not. Ushi was strong. He has been and always will be. You know this. He’ll rise to the world stage with his team and blow away any opponent he would face. You believed in him

When he came back down, he wore a simple, slightly baggy white shirt and black shorts, his hair just a bit damp but fresh with the shampoo he used

He came into the kitchen, the savory aroma scent of the hashed beef that you made, now dished in front of him as he sat down

The two of you peacefully ate dinner while the walls and lighting changed all around the room as the sun set over the horizon outside. It was quiet, filled with the sounds of the two of you eating, silverware to the dishes

You were actually stumped, not knowing what to talk about. The two of you had been together for years but it felt like the beginning when the two of you were first talking- but the thing was, the two of you at that phase didn’t know what to talk about

“Dinner is delicious, Y/N, thank you for making it.” He spoke, giving you a small smile

“Of course,” you said, bringing a bite of rice to your mouth. “I’ll prepare an ice bag after dinner,” you said, to which he nodded and that was basically all the two of you talked about for the rest of dinner

It felt weird

After dinner, he made his way to the living room, sitting on one of the lounge couches. Only a few slivers of light were shining as much as they could in the distance. You gathered the dishes into the sink but grabbed a bag, filling it with ice

Bringing it and a towel. When you approached him, he brought his leg up, setting it on a pillow

He tried to reach for the bag only for you to step away. “Let me,” you smiled. He sat back and relaxed as you placed the ice bag over the towel, draping both over his leg

“Talk to me, Ushi. You’ve been quiet..” you sat beside him on the edge of the couch. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well..” he took your hands into his. His fingers rubbed across the palm of your hands every now and then as he gathered his words

“I was actually scared..” he admitted, taking you aback. “The thought of knowing how fast everything could’ve ended if it was worse”

Your hands closed around his hands, your thumbs rubbing over his knuckles continuously as you listened

His hands were far bigger than yours, stronger than you could ever know but to him, you were able to make him feel small despite you being up to his neck

The two of you spent the rest of the night just talking in the living room. One conversation let to another, your touch never leaving him

In bed, you made sure to be cautious with your movements, not accidentally kicking his leg

For the first time in a while, the two of you stayed up “late” which was really just an hour later, continuously talking

There was no need for him to be up and early for the next two weeks

It felt like you were falling for him all over again, it felt nostalgic

Sleeping, he laid on his back with a pillow beneath his leg as you slept beside him, your arm resting over his chest, close to his side

For the rest week, everyday was the same for the two of you. You prepared breakfast, lunch, and dinner

You made sure he rested as much as he could but he couldn’t keep still the entire time. He lifted weights and worked with his upper body strength to make sure he would be able to come back stronger than ever

He played calm nature sounds over a speaker as he worked out, though you preferred music, but he preferred natural life

About a week passed and things were going smoothly

But tonight, the Adlers were playing a match against a team from the states and Ushi wouldn’t be there tonight

The two of you sat together on the couch in the dimmed living room after dinner, watching some tv before the game would go on live

You usually watched their games, sure to cheer him and his team on whenever you could but it felt different now that he was right beside you

The game went on and it was intense. The score was constantly neck and neck until the last bits where the Adlers were able to successfully pull ahead

Ushi’s sub wasn’t as strong as he was when he swung but he had a nasty cut, making the other team struggle with getting the ball back up to Kageyama

He made some commentary every now and then about what could’ve been done instead. Some plays even surprised him

He had seen games throughout high school and maybe a few Adlers’ games but the recordings were specific to only him to analyze his plays

But seeing the broadcasts were entirely different

Just as his eyes were settled on one angle, the camera switched

The Adlers were able to win in a 4-1 match

To you, it felt like after watching this match with him, it was like something changed. The usual times he worked out got a bit longer

He asked you to make some changes to his diet, which you complied and you even found him on the call with his doctor about things he could do to strengthen his ankle in a secure way that won’t damage it further while you were working in your office

Around the third week, he began to do some light stretches just to be safe for now and opted to use a single crutch more than two crutches

Whenever you were around Ushi after a game or even before, there were different distinct auras he would project as he drew himself to the game and his opponents

He was so passionate about the sport, you admired him for it

But the aura you felt as he stretched, worked out, the way his arm would snake around your waist a lot more often than when he would be playing everyday

To be honest, you really loved that he was home. Since you worked from home, you were pretty alone except for the days he came back from his practices, games, tournaments, and his rest days

It felt nice that you could take care of him and see him so often everyday. To wake up beside him and to still feel his touch against your skin and body when you woke up

Rolling into the fourth week, he began to stretch regularly. He was slowly able to walk but was careful about how much weight he was putting onto his leg

To return the favor, while you went out to get a couple things before you could really start dinner

He did the best that he could and in his mind, he planned to make a couple of dishes he knew how to- basic ones he’s seen you to so many times

Stepping through the door with a couple of bags in hand, a smile instantly spread across your lips as you watched Ushi standing still in front of the stove, wooden spatula in hand as he did his best to make the first dish

You set the bags on the counter, which he didn’t hear over the sound of the stove

You wrapped your arms around his back, burying your face into his toned back, how nice it felt to feel how warm his body was through the fabric of his shirt

Your hands rested on his chest as you took him in, enjoying every bit of the moment, even if he was slowly burning food

When the smell got a little too intense, you took over though there was no saving what he did but it was okay

“I just wanted to help out as a way of thanking you for taking care of me so much, Y/N,” his voice low in your ear, you could practically hear the rumble in with every word

He rested his hands around your waist with your back to his chest, holding you every so lightly in his arms but not tight enough to restrict you

He stayed beside you the entire time you made dinner, helping you out in any way he could, doing as you instructed

You didn’t know if it was just because of the moment the two of you were able to share but dinner tasted better than normal. Instead of sitting across from him, you sat beside him

He occasionally fed you bits of the dishes the two of you prepared and made together even though he was never really one to do this kind of stuff

It was a very sweet gesture though

Going into the sixth week, you drove him to his doctors once more for a check up. He didn’t need crutches to walk and it was a bearable to apply his weight onto his leg

“It seems like your sprain is almost fully recovered. To be safe, I recommend you continue your stretches but don’t jump right back into playing just yet for the best results,@ the doctor said while inspecting the new x-ray

Although he didn’t say it, you could feel just how eager he was to get back into gears, to play with his team again

He did the most he could to build strength in his legs and body but just enough to not over do it

Before you knew it, you were suddenly standing on the sidelines with a special pass at his first game back, the stadium filled and cheering loudly as the announcer announced his official return after a roughly six week rest

You wore one of his jerseys proudly and cheered him on from the sidelines

He was back stronger than ever and you knew this was going to be another win for the Adlers

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (send me an ask if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046 @mazey-chan @sunboikyo00 @kara-grayson04 @fortheloveofbakugo

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sasa-gay-yo · 3 years

Text

Just Us (Chapter 17: I Love You)

← Chapter Sixteen

Warning: NSFW CONTEND AHEAD. MINORS DNI!

For my protection. That was his reason. The government had started following the Scouts extensively after the mission to reclaim Wall Maria. Soon after, they were only following Levi around, trying to find any way to purge him out of the government. He didn’t want me to get caught up in his mess, and he knew I would fight for him if I did, so he thought the only way was to leave me. He thought the only way was to hurt me so I wouldn’t come back because that’s how it used to work for him. Break their hearts and they’ll leave you alone. He also showed me a letter Jonas had written him a few weeks after their return. That coupled with the journal he read over and over was the tipping point for him. It would be better if I wasn’t around him, but he knew that the only way to make it possible for both of us was to build a barrier that we didn’t dare cross.

Levi,

She’s suffering because of you. Every day, I see her smile fade, looking out at the table you used to sit at. She cries at night when she thinks I don’t hear. She cried the other day, drunk on wine, thinking about what she had done wrong to make you act this way towards her. You need to let her go. If you aren’t going to come anymore, make it clear so she doesn’t have sickening hope to keep her going. She won’t keep going. She’s fallen in love with someone like you before, and even then she almost killed herself before she was let go. Let her go now. It’s the safest way. I’ll care for her. I’ll convince her. I’ll make her happy where you couldn’t. Just leave her to me and let her go.

Jonas

Yet, even with these excuses, the letter, and the journal, he apologized over and over again. Sometimes on his knees in front of me. Sometimes without words. At night, he would hold me now, having read about how many sleepless I had without him; lonely nights he caused. It seemed that two things had changed as a result of our “hiatus”. One, being Levi recognizing what was love and affection, and how he, indeed, needed it to survive now. He wasn’t afraid anymore, and behind closed doors was bold. He even stopped asking to do something, his timid self leaving and replaced with a more confident lover. Second, after the court hearing, he truly realized that I could take care of myself. Right there and then, facing death with one slip up, I was able to save him as well as the Scouts' reputation. It was this one strong act of loyalty that was enough to tip him over the edge. Levi was now completely mine. This was evident. There was to be no tip-toeing. There was no time to tip-toe anymore. We were to love and love vividly as neither of us had ever before.

Still, my emotions were left untouched. While he was busy begging for forgiveness, the feelings I had in that year-and-a-half of isolation were pushed back in my mind. I didn’t want to ruin the time we had with what I deemed to be trivial. I didn’t want to remind him once again of the loneliness and desperation he left me with. The self-doubt. The self hated. All of these things. I left it for another day. Another time. And soon enough, it would eat away at me. In the near future, he would do it again. That was my resolve. He would do it again, leaving me alone with only my thoughts and a shirt of his, and these feelings would creep up inside of me.

I decided to wait until that happened. If it happened again, I would tell him what I was feeling. I wouldn’t let his apologizes and touches and kisses silence my wavering feelings of abandonment. I would tell myself that over and over again. I would tell him, yes. I would. I have to… but then his smile, vibrant and whole, would make me forget. Momentarily. His devotion. His touch. Love would come in place of abandonment.

Sometimes it would scare me. I would wake in the middle of the night in his arms, his eyes staring down at me as he had yet to fall asleep, and I would feel this overwhelming sensation. I’d never felt this before. Not with any other man I’d been with. I thought I knew what love was until Levi and I started again. This was love. This was devotion. Willing to sacrifice ourselves for the other. The court case had made that clear. Still, it was scary to be this for another person. Those nights, I would tear up, remembering the lonely months previous, and he would brush my hair out of my face, holding me to his chest and humming me to sleep. How long until I lose him again? Was this overwhelming feeling in my chest only because I knew he would leave soon? Levi would never be permanently by my side. How can I keep loving someone like him this much without hurting myself?

Levi was scared too, but for a different reason. He was scared of death. This was the demon that would always chase him. At night, when he found sleep, he would still jerk awake, sometimes sweat covered and tears falling down his cheeks. I would rub his back and sometimes get out of bed with him to talk it over a cup of peppermint tea. There was no hiding what he saw when his eyes were closed anymore. He would see me die. Isabel and Furlan. Erwin. Hange. His cadets. I realized during those nights how broken he truly was. How scared he was to love because of death, just as I was of abandonment. I’d reassure him over and over, rain hitting the windowpane above, but still, he would have this doubt in the back of his mind. Life made this doubt, and nothing was going to move it. I’d just reassure him enough to coax him back into bed and hopefully catch the last bits of sleep.

Like Erwin had promised, Levi was given the month off. Which quickly turned into two at Levi’s harsh request and a nice letter I wrote to Erwin, attached to a box of freshly made cookies. How did Erwin expect for us to catch up in a month? The first month was for loving. The second was when we would actually talk over things. This was what I had determined. Erwin had sent back the empty box with only one note: Don’t get pregnant. I rolled my eyes at that and threw it into the trash.

“What did he say?” Levi gestured to the paper I’d thrown in the trash and I just shook my head.

“Nothing important. Just a joke.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me in front of him as he sat down in a wooden chair. His hand let go of mine, moving it to touch my waist lightly. It was night time and the café had been vacant of people for a few hours. It was time to start preparing dough and fruit for the small batch of pastries and bread tomorrow. People were slowly starting to feel the effects of famine. Their stomachs and their wallets. Sadly, the only thing that seemed to keep me going was the reward Erwin had promised. With his money in my pouch, I went about the capital market with Hange, buying supplies I needed. They filled up the cart we had brought with us, but even now, only a month later, they were almost all gone. Reeve’s was suspending orders left and right, and soon they would start firing their workers. I was also getting to a desperate point as well. If people stopped coming into the café, remembering the hours I’d sat in the empty room this past month, I would close down and use the profit money for my own survival.

“What are you thinking about?” I looked down at him again, noticing how the tiny sliver of moonlight through an open crack illuminated his eyes to an almost silver color.

“The future.”

“That’s why I don’t do that,” he quipped back, dropping his hand to lean back in the chair, the front legs lifting up off the floor I’d just cleaned. I frowned and rolled my eyes at him, walking away to check on the rising dough.

“Yes, we know.” He followed behind, rolling up his sleeves so he could help me. This time, there wasn’t enough dough to divide between the two of us, so he ended up cleaning the two tea cups we were drinking out of.

“Why think of a future when you’re never guaranteed one?” I slammed the dough on the table, starting to take out my annoyance on it instead of him.

“Ah, yes, because you’re one to live in the moment, Levi.” He just chuckled and ended up leaning on the sink edge, looking out at the single window that was opened. The moonlight was still reflected in his eyes.

“You’re from the Underground. You should know why thinking about a future is dangerous.”

“We aren’t in the Underground anymore, Captain Levi.” He frowned and I moved on to portion the dough.

“Stop saying my name like that,” he groaned out, turning his head to the side and looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He was more accustomed to his nickname now. Just Lev. When I said his full name or title, he knew I was mad or annoyed at him or something.

“Thinking about the future gives me hope,” I used a knife to cut out four pieces of dough, “It makes you want to live.” He held up his hands.

“No one said I didn’t want to live.” I cut the next piece of dough rather harshly, making the knife slam against the cutting board.

“You’re content with dying.”

“I’ve made peace with the idea, yes.” I grasped a small piece of dough that I’d just cut when hearing those words. Now I was angry. There was no drive in his voice. Made peace with dying? That just wasn’t acceptable. I threw the piece of dough at him and he just stood there, taking my assault.

“Think about a future and then maybe you won’t be so content with dying, Levi.” He wiped off the leftover flour from his shirt, his expression unchanging.

“Then what is your future? If you’re so adamant about it.” His voice had a hint of annoyance in it, trying to hold back from yelling at me for ruining his fresh shirt. This made me freeze up a bit. My mind went straight to one thing. One thing I know Levi has personally said wouldn’t happen. One thing I know that Levi could care less about. One thing he didn’t want. Therefore, I shook my head.

“None of your business.” He turned to face my body, keeping one hand on the counter and the other on his hip.

“You can’t just lecture me about this and then refuse to tell me.” This is when I realized the weight of his words before. Why would you think of a future when you know it won’t happen? I knew this future wouldn’t happen, and here I was mourning it. Fuck. He got me, and he knew he did.

“No, I don’t have to tell you. It’s my future.”

“But I’m in it, aren’t I?” I dropped my hands, taking a deep breath in, “That’s why you’re so upset right now.” I hung my head this time. Not wanting to feel tears welling in the corner of my eyes. I haven’t felt them for a month now, and they were starting to feel unwelcomed. How dare I feel sad at a time like this? I can’t feel sad when time is fleeting.

“You’re in a lot of people's futures, Levi. Not just mine.” It was low, and he could tell by how my voice trembled that I was about to cry, but he wanted me to face his harsh reality. He wanted me to know the reality of the world. I couldn’t be optimistic about the future. No one in our world could be. I would just be disappointed. At least that’s what I thought.

“Tell me then. What’s in our future?” I shook my head again, this time turning away from him and using one hand to wipe away the stray tears.

“Tell me.” I kept my hand hovering over my mouth, hoping that if I started crying loudly, I’d be able to muffle them with it.

“There are no titans. You and I, we run this cafe. We’re married and there are two little kids running around, knocking over empty chairs while people come in and out, smiling down at them. A boy and girl. The boy has black hair, the girl brown. Both have silver-grey eyes. You yell at the children, telling them to stop playing around. They apologize, looking up at you with your matching eyes, then back at me, waiting for me to soften your annoyance at them; releasing them to run around again as you groan because of my acceptance of their rowdiness… but then you look at the two of them and smile softly before being swept up in an order.” There was silence again, but this time it was dense. I had to put my hand over my mouth, muffling whatever whines were coming out of it. His silence was telling. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want it. I was the only one dreaming of these things at night, falling asleep in his arms.

A hand landed on my shoulder, squeezing once, before drawing me into him from behind, completely enveloped with his chin resting on top of my head. He still didn’t say anything. He just tried to comfort me while I was mourning something I knew wouldn’t happen. He didn’t have to tell me. I knew. I knew.

“I’ll try my best to give you what you want, but some of it is unattainable, Eva.”

“What is?” He felt him swallow hard and his arms tightened around me. He wanted me to know that he was still here, even if the future he wasn’t going to be. He wasn’t going to try to promise me anything he couldn’t keep.

“I’ll try my best.” That was his way of saying that none of it was going to happen. Sometime during my cries, he turned me around to settle into his chest. At this point, I wasn’t mad at him. I was just sad. Sad because I wouldn’t get to have what I wanted. Not with him. Jonas was right. At some point, I would have to sacrifice if I wanted to be with Levi. Erwin had told me that too. I just didn’t know at that point, almost three years ago, what the sacrifice was going to be. My sanity. My emotional clarity. A husband. Children. I was just going to be the woman who owns a cafe. I even have to sacrifice the public’s knowledge of my own relationship. I’d sacrifice it for someone who wasn’t at my side for most of the year.

That was the scary part. The one that I’d think of over and over again at night. The scariest part was that deep down inside, I was ready to sacrifice it all for him. I loved him. Yet, he’d never said it back to me. Did Levi feel guilty for not being able to give me what I wanted or was this a struggle I’d have to get through alone? And I’d get through it alone… for him.

That night, his grasp was a little tighter than before. He was still trying to make up for earlier. He was trying to show me what his feelings were, but he couldn’t say them out loud. That would be the nail in his coffin. That’s what still made me doubt. I’d look him in the eyes and just chant over and over tell me you love me. If he just said those three words, then I think everything would be all right. He’ll try his best. What did that mean? What was his best? At his best, was he still not able to say he loved me?

The next few days, he would be closer to me when he could. He would hold me tighter when he could. He was trying to tell me that he was here in the present. He wasn’t going to leave right now. He was trying to compensate for the future he was convinced he couldn’t give me. He couldn’t give me kids and he couldn’t make me his wife, but he could try his best. Those words were a sting to my heart every time I heard it. His best would be leaving me at the end of every upcoming month to go out and try to kill titans while trying to not get killed himself.

The next week, when he showed up from his weekly visit to the Scout HQ, rose balm in hand, everything in the past week seemed to be forgotten. The future, along with the emotions I had yet to tell him about, sat in the back of my mind. He bandaged my hands for me, applying the balm in a meticulous fashion, hoping that this time he would be able to get a big supply of it before he went on his expedition.

“Erwin had gone to the capital a few days ago and Premier Zachary asked about you,” he informed me as he started with my right hand. I pulled a disgusted face and this made him glow with some semblance of happiness.

“What did he say?”

“According to Erwin’s short summary, he wanted to know more about you currently. Where you live, what you do. Things like that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sent someone here to find you out.” I could hear the anger rise in his voice as he applied the balm.

“Is that why you haven’t been coming downstairs recently? In case they see you.” He nodded.

“It would get both of us in trouble if they started to suspect something. I don’t care at this point, however. Even if they saw us randomly meet each other in the marketplace, they would report it as a relationship. While the people who wanted to persecute me would see it as more evidence, the rat-bearded bastard Zachary is only interested in finding about more about his prey.” I swallowed at the word prey and Levi noticed that he didn’t tone down his wording like normal. Around me, he tried to be more gentle with his words, substituting curses for other things, but other times it slipped out. According to Hange, Levi had quite a vocabulary and he wasn’t afraid to yell at the cadets with it.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just sa-”

“I know, Lev. I just have to be smart and reject any advances in a way that doesn’t make him upset. He is your highest up boss anyways.” He slipped back into a smile and nodded at my words.

“So smart,” he mumbled and his praise made my stomach fill with a few butterflies. Levi doesn’t praise anyone. I found that out by being stuck in the Scout HQ for a day. I assisted Hange and snuck around out of sight, but I was still able to observe the way he trained with the cadets. Once when a cadet performed a near perfect maneuver, cutting through three titan dummies at a high-speed pace, all Levi could say to her was “If you were going so fast, why didn’t you get a fourth one?” I guess he only had a little bit of praise in his body and it was all reserved for me.

“The Garrison members stopped playing cards last week, so I guess we can take that as notice the news of the trial has spread to Trost.” He tucked the very end of the wrap underneath another, taking a piece of medical tape and securing it tight. I told him that since today was my day off, he didn’t need to wrap my hands, but he acted like it was another one of his duties. Everyday before I start work, he would sit me down, sometimes in a sleepy silence, and wrap my hands. Other times, he would pull me upstairs after lunch rush to take the dirty wraps off and replace them, asking about work or some random thing he thought about while doing leftover paperwork in the office upstairs. While Erwin gave him the month off physically, he still had mountains of paperwork that he brought back from his weekly meetings. Times like right now, he would use wrapping my hands as a distraction from the mountain of papers growing. The two weeks leading up to the expedition were going to be the busiest, so much so that he couldn’t go to bed the same time as me and I’d wait up for him, reading a book. Most of the time, though, he would have to wake me up and move from his spot on the bed since I was sprawled over the whole thing.

“I’ve finally got the paperwork for it, so I’d assume so. I had to literally confirm every scar that you and Hange wrote down, so thanks for that.” He turned back to the desk and I leaned forward to look at the paper, an empty diagram of a body drawn on it.

“I can help you if you want.” He raised an eyebrow, looking out of the corner of his eye.

“Is this just another excuse to get me undressed?” I gave him the same type of look.

“Hypothetically, if it was, would it work?” He gave me one smirk before shedding off his shirt. Even if I’d seen this many, many times in the past two months, it never lost its effect. Levi’s clothes hide years of fighting, ODM usage, and overall hard labor and work. Of course he was going to have every possible muscle defined. His shoulders were my favorite. Broad. Easy to rest my head on.

“Here,” he handed me the paper and a pen freshly dipped in ink, “starts drawing and labeling. Don’t miss one or we’re fucked.” I started with the scar near his collarbone.

“I don’t know. Prison can’t be that bad. You could beat all of them up and become king.” He rolled his eyes, sitting back on the chair so I could get a full view.

“I think the last place I want to be is in a military prison. They’ll just lock me up in a single cell for the rest of my life. I’d break out though. Shitty guards.”

“A fugitive then. I’d hide you.” He smirked and huffed once in laughter.

“If we mess this paper up, we’re both going to become political fugitives. Where should we escape to?” I turned his head so I could get the side of a small scar under his jawline.

“A cabin somewhere. Maybe by Utopia District. No one likes to go all the way up there… I hate to ask you this, but do you think they want me to write down all of your scars?” He raised his eyebrow in confusion and I turned the paper to him, pen pointing to the legs.

“Oh, uh. Just to be safe?” He stood up, looking down at me, and took his pants off in one swift movement, folding them to put on top of the desk. Now, he was just sitting down in a pair of linen shorts. He pushed them up too, pointing out some scars on his inner thighs.

“How did you get these? I don’t see you wear shorts.” I poked a scar on his inner thigh and he squirmed when I did that. Was there a certain tension building in the room? Yes, but I chose to be naïve to it.

“Knives can cut through fabric. Most of the ones on my legs are from the Underground. Others are from cutting through trees with ODM too fast. I had to get used to branches since there aren’t trees in the Underground.” I nodded, staring intently at the scars of his legs, and I could hear him cough once before turning his head to the side. We stayed in this position before I told him to sit backwards on the chair so I could get the marks on his back, flipping the page. It didn’t get past me how uncomfortable he looked trying to get settled with his front pressed up against the back of the chair. There was something in the way. This made me smirk and I reached out to touch his back, tracing some of the larger scars.

“This one is from a titan?” I remembered clearly one in the center of his back was marked by medical tape from Hange. I traced down it, seeing his fists grab the top of the chair slightly, making sure he knew which one I was talking about.

“I was saving a cadet and got caught on its front tooth. Had to shove a sword in it’s ugly-ass mouth so it would let me go.” I hummed, acknowledging his story and moving on. Again, his back was as marvelous to look at as his front. Here, one could clearly see the muscles he had from carrying the ODM gear and wielding the dual swords. I remembered back to the first time he’d exposed himself like this when I took the bandages off for him. Back then, I don’t think I was in a state of mind to notice all the scars he had on his back. I was unconsciously tracing them as I drew and labeled on the official paperwork.

“What’s this one? I don’t know it.” I traced again, a small circle near the edge of his linen undergarment. I felt him shiver under my touch and he looked over his shoulder at me, jaw a little tight.

“Bullet wound.” It was short and I could hear the strain in his voice. When he turned back to face the wall, I let my smirk come out. If I stopped now, would he be able to turn back around in confidence? With this, I just leaned forward, pressing my cheek into his upper shoulder blade, feeling how warm his skin had become.

“Finished?” He asked, and I just nodded into his skin.

“You have so many.” He snorted.

“I was born fighting. Plus, I have to always save these cadets’ asses on the field. It’s only natural.” He didn’t turn around, just crossing his arms and slightly leaning back into me. I closed my eyes, feeling his touch and warmth again. At night, he always sleeps with a shirt on, so I rarely get to feel him like this.

“It’s only fair you let me see the scars you have.” I opened my eyes and looked up at him, his head half-turned to look down at me. Something in my stomach stirred when he said that.

“I don’t have half as many as you. The biggest ones are my hands.” He apparently felt composed enough to turn around, shifting to hide something stirring in his lower half still.

“Let me rephrase. You made me strip twice, once in front of the entire military brigade of Mitras. It’s only fair.” He gestured his hand forward and it made me snicker.

“You’ve seen me without a shirt on a few times, Lev.” He opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it again, thinking of a better rebuttal.

“I haven’t had my hands tracing your back for thirty minutes trying to rile you up.” I rested my head in one hand. So he did notice.

“What do I get out of this?” He tsk-ed, crossing his arms over his chest again.

“You always want a reward. Fine, I’ll give you one. Just let me look at your scars first. An equal exchange.” I perked up when he said that, and I could tell he almost laughed at how willingly I took my shirt off, leaving me only in an ivory brassiere and my skirt. Then his hand pointed down as to say ‘that too’. Just like him, I stood up, but I slowly unbuttoned my skirt and let it slide to the floor. Now we were both sitting there, only in our linen undergarments. We’d been here before, really, but only in short, spur-of-the-moment type situations. One moment, my underwear would be off, and then just ask quickly he was putting it back on so as not to expose me so much to himself. He did the same with his linen shorts. This was much more… intense. He took time to sit back, his eyes scanning over every curve of my body. It made me twitch, my foot tapping waiting for him to reach out and touch me like he said he was going to do.

“You have a considerable amount. I hadn’t noticed before. Turn around.” He made a circle in the air with his finger and I obliged, leaning forward to rest my head on the top of the chair. I heard him move forward too, his breath wafting over my shoulders. This sent shivers down my spine, making me sit up straight. Then, he reached out with one finger, tracing the shallow white lines and indents. With each movement, a jolt was sent down my spine and into my stomach. I had to lower my head to hide my blush and the heavy breathing. He was giving me back what I had done to him.

“This one?” He traced a medium-sized scar up and down, right below the back of my brasserie.

“I-I fell out of a tree when I was younger and landed on Jonas’s bicycle.” He hummed and I felt the air that came out of his nose gloss over the right side of my neck. When I turned my head to the right, looking over my shoulder, his face was right there. This made me swallow hard and the butterflies in my stomach started flying around even faster. It was comical how this small touch was making my mind fuzzy. I had seen him bare before. I had touched him. He’d touched me. But nothing like this.

“And this one?” It was a whisper right in my ear and it made me physically jump. He felt it and I heard a small laugh come from him. The scar he was tracing was in the middle of my back, just like the one he had. His finger was just tracing it up and down, waiting for my answer.

“The… t-the edge of a… a brick building,” I breathed out, the ending shooting up an octave as his right hand went around my middle, pulling my back right into his chest. His head was resting in the crook of my neck, but he was only looking forward, staring at the same blackboard that I was, filled with possible battle formations and other things he’d written about fieldwork. His other hand, the left, came and squeezed my thigh, slowly tracing again. Up and down. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t feel his newfound arousal pressing into my back. This made me think hard, heart beating fast. While this wasn’t the barest we’ve gotten, this was the most intimate in ways of sexual attraction. Was this going to be the night?

“All these scars you got before you met me, hm?” He shifted just his eyes to look up at me. I swallowed, not trusting my voice as his hand coasted higher and higher on my thigh.

“E-except my neck.” This time he hummed, and I felt the vibration filter through my back. His hand slowly went from my thigh to my neck, lightly grasping the sides and rubbing that same finger along the thin scar the refugees had given me that day so long ago. The scar itself would be gone in a few years, not being deep in the first place.

“I wanted to kill them. For some reason. I usually never want to kill humans.” His voice was softer, remembering the same moment I was.

“I’m glad you didn’t.” His grip on my waist tightened and he pulled me back enough so I was completely resting on him. His skin was still hot to the touch, almost burning.

“I’ll do anything to protect you, Eva.” I lowered my head, my thoughts instantly going to a week ago. He would do anything but marry and have kids with me.

“Anything?” I felt him seize up, just a tiny bit, knowing what I was referring to. I had just ruined his nice moment. This is why I’d held back my feelings for a month. Reasons like this. If I had just kept my mouth shut, what would we be doing now?

“I can’t give you children.”

“I know.” There was a pause in his heavy breathing. I couldn’t feel it on my neck. I couldn’t feel the in and out of his chest on my back. He was holding something in. He was going to say something that he had to prepare for.

“But… I’ve thought… over this past week...” He sat up, his head no longer resting in my neck. At this new angle, with me leaning back all the way, he could just simply look down at me. There it was. Disbelief. My eyes widened in disbelief too at the words that exited his mouth.

“... But I’m not opposed to taking your hand in marriage in the near future.” I sat up right away, looking him right in the eyes. They were as dilated as mine.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” If he had a shirt on, I would have grabbed it to pull him to my lips. This time, I moved forward, my hands flat on his chest pushing him back against the chair. He moaned slightly at my sudden attack on his lips, but these kisses were deep. They weren’t like our various sessions on the couch or deep in the night when we both couldn’t sleep. I wanted to say thank you. Over and over. I wanted to say I love you. Over and over. And he responded, kissing me back with the same passion.

He pulled me on top of him, my legs hanging off the chair on either side of his. His hands were slowly tracing up my back, leaving what felt like a path of fire with their ascent. I wrapped my arms around his neck, one hand in his hair and the other grabbing at the skin on his back, holding my composure. Usually, at this point, Levi would ask permission for a single thing. The only thing he would do that night. May I take your bra off? May I see you down there? Yet, there was no stopping. His mouth wasn’t pulling back from mine to ask a question, and if anything he was kissing me at a bruising pace.

When he pulled my hips down on him fully, grinding up into the crevice of my inner thigh, I knew he wasn’t going to stop tonight. I tested it, arching my back into his chest, hoping to connect my core with his own. He whimpered once into my mouth when I did this, and still, he didn’t pull back like he did before. This made my heart burst, and something fueled me to push further. Levi was going to allow it.

His lips detached from mine, going to my lower jaw, then my neck. With one hand, he moved my head so he had the complete amount of skin to work with. I held him close to me, my eyes fluttering closed as he found that perfect little spot at the base of my neck.

“Levi,” I moaned, and I felt him smirk into the softness of my skin, not stopping his assault and leaving a small bruise, matching the other ones. Once his hands coasted over my waist, they went back up, stopping at the back of my brasserie, two thumbs slipping under the material to test the waters. I ground down on him again, letting him know that it was okay. His dick twitched up into me, excited by my given consent, and in one swoop he unbuttoned the linen fabric and threw it somewhere across the room. It was going to stay there.

As soon it was off the heat of my skin contrasted with the cold air of the room, making goosebumps rise all over my skin. I arched my back again, giving Levi a full view of my breasts, which he was obliged to take. He just sat back, like he had when I’d taken my shirt off, and took in my body in front of him. This made my arousal grow, and I knew that at this point he could feel it seeping through the thin fabric of my undergarment onto his. He was just there, staring, not giving me any relief. This time, he wasn’t going to rush through things. One hand went up, his thumb glancing over the peak of my right nipple, making me shiver at the touch. He took that in too. The way my body was so ready to be under his.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled, leaning forward to kiss the valley between both of my breasts, “All mine.” His voice was low and had taken on a new filter that I’d never heard before. His voice was making me drip.

“Lev, please.” He looked up at me, face between both of my breasts, and slowly brought his other hand up to pinch my left nipple. I squirmed at this, my sense going overboard at just how little he was giving me. I tried to get relief by using his own arousal to rub against mine, but he had shifted back, only allowing me relief on his thigh. I would take it at this point. All of this sexual release had been building up the past month and a half. He would touch me so little, making me orgasm with his fingers or his mouth so quickly, and then move on with the rest of his day. He would never allow me to pleasure him either. It was like he was playing with me this whole time and I wanted it to be over. I wanted him to finally have his way with me the way I knew he wanted to. The way in which his eyes still lingered over my post-orgasm figure, wanting so bad to enter me.

“Please what, Ev?” He whispered, teasing me completely. His elbows tightened around my sides, practically lifting me off his thigh so I couldn’t move anymore. Until I answered him, I was immobile. I bit my bottom lip, looking up at the ceiling as his thumbs just rolled over both of my nipples in tandem. He would make me sit here like this for hours if I didn’t answer.

“Touch me,” I groaned out, but he didn’t move. I tried to squirm again, motioning to him that I wasn’t having this, but he just chucked.

“I am touching you, brat.” I outwardly groaned when he said that, letting him know just how dissatisfied I was with this current situation. The slow stimulation of my breasts was driving me crazy, and it was almost worse than this whole month-and-a-half of half-filled orgasms and longing touches.

“Please fuck me.” This made his elbows go slack, but so did his hands, finding their way to my waist again, holding me there. It felt so demeaning having to ask him like this when he knew for so long that that was exactly what I wanted. Yet, he was still laughing, grabbing my chin so I had to look him right in the eye. He kissed the edge of my mouth, then my cheek, then my jaw, teasing over and over by pushing his thigh up into me at his pace. All I could do was sit there and take it.

“I’m going to make love to you tonight, Evlynn. I’ll fuck you later.” He picked me up, standing from the chair, and carrying me a few feet into the bedroom. Slowly, he laid me down, coming to hover above me. He kissed me once, then twice, then descended to swirl one of my nipples in his mouth, the other being attended to by his hand. This time, I had nothing to grind into to relieve the aching in my core, and all I could do was rub my thighs together for some relief. He noticed this, and opened them, settling himself in between so I couldn’t rub against anything.

“Any pleasure you feel tonight is going to be because of me,” he asserted, moving to my other breast. I just moaned under him, wrapping one leg around his hips to pull him closer onto me. His lips moved, kissing down my stomach, hovering over some of the scars he assessed earlier. While he was taking his time, moving so slowly, I had to relieve something, so I grabbed my breasts myself. Rolling them in my hands harshly to feel something other than his teasing, featherlight kisses.

“Hands up!” He bit into my thigh. I blinked, looking down at him as he was directly between my legs. His eyes were blown out and intense, and he had given me that voice. The one he talks to the cadets in. He was ordering me. With wide, doe-eyes, I did what he said, not daring to go against his orders.

“Good girl,” he mumbled into my thigh, moving his hands under them to give a better vantage point. Again, he started teasing me. The closest he got to my center was kissing the edge of my undergarment. Above him, I was a whimpering mess, trying to move my body so maybe his lips would slip somewhere else, but he moved his hands up to hold me down into the bed. For a third time, I couldn’t move and I had to take everything he wasn’t giving to me.

“I want to take you in slowly. I’ve waited so long for this.” Even the breath he let out from that sentence missed my core, giving me no form of relief. I could only grab onto the pillow above me, his pillow, and pray he would give me it soon. I had gotten so accustomed to him just going for it, that now this was torture. He wasn’t giving me his fingers, his mouth; nothing. It had me groaning and whimpering under him louder than ever before.

“Please, please, please, please.” I got some power and bucked my hips up to his face, which made him smile up at me and run one finger down my slit, feeling the wetness of the cloth covering it.

“All for me?” I just nodded, my head having been thrown back by that one single touch, “Words.” He lightly slapped my clit, reprimanding me.

“Ugnh - fuck!” He slowly circled my clit with one finger, waiting for me to answer his question. The way he was commanding me was setting a fire in my stomach and it made me mold to comply.

“All for you!” I let out in one breath, a loud moan following as it gave my clit a single kiss, the fabric still in between me and his mouth. If he didn’t start soon, this bastard was going to make me cry. My eyes widened then, looking only at the ceiling in realization. He wanted me to beg. He wanted me to use my words.

“Levi, please take it off.” He looked up at me, only the tip of his tongue circling my clothed clit, motioning to the reason why he hadn’t taken it off yet. My hands were at my sides, clutching the sheets. Slowly, I lifted them up again, crossing them above my head to try and secure them.

“There we go,” he said, pulling off the only article of clothing left on my body. When he did this, he sat upon the bed, his hands going with him. There he was, looking down at me completely naked before him. His eyes were darkening still as he could see my wetness glisten just for him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he took one finger, always one finger, and dragged it down my slit collecting the juices that were already there, “My beautiful girl,” he pushed his one finger inside of me, “All laid out for me. Finally.”

He moved his finger in and out, drawing moans from me. They were loud. They were whimpers. He was finally touching me in the way I wanted. Not fast. Not quick. He added a second finger, which made my back lift off the bed slightly and he moved to push me down with one hand. In and out, in and out, just stretching me. Only when he felt satisfied with how much I drenched his fingers did he move his mouth down. He took no time latching onto my clit, giving it kitten licks at first. As soon as he sucked on the bud once, then he allowed his fingers to curve, hitting the one spongy spot he’d studied the location of. My eyes were blown out, stars dancing in my vision. The way he was working his tongue over the most sensitive part of my body and using his fingers to get me up to my high had me spinning. He’d never used them in tandem. No man had ever used them like this either. I was shaking, my nails digging into my forearms, trying to keep them above my head. I didn’t want it to stop. If I dropped my hands he would no doubt stop. I wanted to drop them and shove his head down on me further.

“Look at me.” I did, right away. Wasting no time and giving him no excuse to punish me again. I looked as his mouth was completely on my core, eating me like a man who had starved. No, he was a starving man, now getting full off of me. His tongue was giving long, harsh licks to my clit, and now his fingers had moved to a faster pace, hitting my g-spot with every thrust. I chanted his name over and over like a poem. Like one of those hymns, the Order of the Walls would sing on the streets. My song. Levi. Levi. Over and over again. He wouldn’t let me fuck myself on his tongue, one arm completely over my hips, and soon, I felt the knot grow in my lower stomach.

“I-I’m… close!” I shouted out, and his eyes conveyed complete lust, looking up at me writhing for him to give me what I needed. I needed to cum like this. It was nothing I’d felt before. The knot was so tight in my stomach and I was yelling so loud, the neighbors a building over might come and knock tomorrow morning.

“Please. Please, can I cum? Please!” His mouth came down once more, harder, sucking only on my clit. All it took was one harsh curve of his fingers coupled with a single, long lick, and I was coming undone on his tongue. This wasn’t like before. My hands came down, grabbing the sheets as I was sent into my high at a crushing pace. His fingers were still going in and out, overstimulating me as I shook from head to toe. The only thing on my tongue was his name. Once I started to jerk away from his fingers, tears welling in my eyes motioning to him that I had come down from my orgasm, he pulled them out, sticking them right in his mouth to clean them.

“So dirty.”

He moved back up my body quickly, latching his lips onto mine, giving me a taste of myself. His tongue slipped in too, now not at that slow and deep pace we had before in the office. This time, he was the one being tempted by a release. He ground down on me, my wetness covering his shorts again. This time, he was completely hard and when I put my hand down to rub him, to tease him like he did me, I relished in the fact that he didn’t move my arm away. He let out a grunt in my ear as I finally was able to move my hand inside his undergarments and grab onto his dick, hard and long. I felt it all. The veins, the ridges, just how big he was. Slowly, I jerked him up and down, using my thumb to tease his slit. His jaw tensed when I did this too like he had to hold back to urge to ravish me in the way he told me he wasn’t going to do.

“Can I take them off?” I asked, and he went to kiss me, this time lighter as he looked directly into my eyes. He reached down and took them off himself, my hand still going up and down his length. Now, we were finally both naked in front of each other. Not just one or the other. I was finally touching him. He was finally letting me see all of him. I looked down, noticing the size and the redness he was displaying. I knew then what I wanted to do, but when I went to slide down to try and give him relief with my mouth, an equal exchange, he held me below him, a harsh grip on my hip.

“I told you. This is about you.” He reached down and took my hand off of him, lacing our fingers together. The cocky captain that was ordering me while between my legs had left, and I saw the vulnerability in his eyes as he lined up with my entrance. I put my other hand on the back of his neck, encouraging him to push forward.

“Are you sure you want me to?” He asked, a moment of doubt. He’d never made love to anyone before.

“I want only you, Levi.” I pulled him down to kiss him, another deep and long kiss, and when he pushed into me completely, we both groaned into the kiss. It had been a while since I had sex, and he could tell by the way I winced softly as he pushed back in again. He kissed my forehead, then my cheek, his hand squeezing mine as he slowly started a pace in and out. After two thrusts, he hit the spot inside of me that sent my body reacting up into his. I was no longer in pain, and both of us were wrapped in pleasure. He angled his hips up expertly so he would hit my g-spot with every thrust, and soon his head was buried in my neck, whispering praise.

“You feel so good. You’re so good. Mine. All mine. So beautiful, taking me like this. Perfect.” I threw my head back again, and he took my other hand which was digging into his back, putting it above my head. He used one hand to hold them up there, and the other to squeeze the sides of my neck, cutting off my air. This sent shockwaves to my core and my head.

“Oh my, yes! Yes, yes, yes. Levi!”

“Ugh, so fucking gorgeous with the moonlight on you. Fuck, you were made for me. Look how well you’re taking me. Pussy sent from above. Just for me.” His praises made me pant and cry with every thrust, making my body set on fire once again. The knot was ever-so tighter with him pounding into me, losing whatever slow self-control he had earlier. We were both chasing our highs for our first time together. I looked into his eyes, the moonlight shining into the grey, making them seem so bright. So open. He’s going to marry me. That’s the thought that was running through my head. This man. This handsome, gorgeous man was going to be mine. This man, who was whispering sweet nothings in my ear making me feel like some goddess, was going to be mine.

“Oh my god, fuck!” He grunted loudly in my ear as his hips snapped harshly into mine.

“I’m going to… I’m-” He took the hand off my neck, reaching down to circle my clit.

“Me, too,” he breathed out. So close. So close.

“Levi!” I called out, as he pinched my clit ever-so-lightly, sending me right into my high. This time, I couldn’t control how my body was moving below him, my second orgasm taking complete control of me. He was still pushing in and out, having to use the hand that was on my clit to hold my hips down.

“Fuck, Eva. God, I’m going to…” He whined loudly in his ear, the overstimulation hitting me again, and this seemed to be what sent him over. Pulling out quickly, he came on my stomach, head thrown back in pleasure as his hand milked everything out of him. So much came out, painting my stomach in white. I was breathing too hard, trying to recover, to care. He still had his head buried in my neck, and I realized what he was whispering, caught up by the pleasure his orgasm had brought him.

“I love you so much, fuck. Eva. Love you. So much. So perfect. Evlynn. God. What did you do to me?” This made me breathe harder, eyes watering finally hearing him say those words to me. I didn’t even move when he got up, turning the oil lamp in the bathroom up to go get a towel.

He finally said it.

His feet padded against the ground, and I sat up on my elbows, looking at him standing in the door, one arm gripping the side frame. His eyes were still ever intense, looking at me down on the bed, towel in hand. My legs were still shaking, and the look he was giving me wasn’t helping. My chest was moving up and down now, but not because of the activity previous. To break the tension, he just smiled, coming over on the bed to wipe me off, folding the towel, his towel, and putting in on the top of the dresser to clean later. He grabbed the blankets, opening them to crawl underneath and pull me with him. I was lying completely on top of him and he had one hand rubbing my back, the other playing with my hair. It had been five minutes and we still hadn’t said a word to each other.

“I love you,” he whispered into my hair, and I smiled, snuggling into him more. A few tears came to my eyes too, just like when he said he was going to marry me.

“I love you, too.” He sighed and pulled me up higher so my head was in his neck this time. He pulled the blanket up higher so that I was covered up to my neck.

“No one’s ever told me that before.” I gripped him tighter, sitting up so that I was looking down into his eyes. There it was again. Disbelief. Fear. I needed to get rid of that.

“I love you, Levi.” He just nodded, smiling slightly up at me.

“Oh god, fuck!” I yelled into the pillow, his hand pushing my head down into the mattress as he pounded into me from behind. I had to turn my head to the side so I could breathe with the force he was using. I knew I was going to have bruises on my legs from earlier in the night, but now that was going to be mixed with handprints as he found out quickly how nice my ass bounced when he slapped it.

“Levi!” I called out at one aggressive thrust, hitting the spot I desperately wanted him to hit. He was being mean to me this morning, saying how I was so rude going to leave him in bed alone to go down to work after he’d just made love to me. He also said he promised to fuck me after. So here we were. Now, I was going to be late. At least there weren’t any customers who came in this early anymore. They would be hearing my moans loud and clear through the floorboards.

“That’s not my name, brat.” He took his hand off the bed frame and pulled me up by my hair, my body now flush against his chest. I let out another moan as this position made it so easy for his dick to angle up and give me the high I wanted. Another hash slap to my bottom told me he wanted me to correct myself.

“Captain!” I yelled out, and this satisfied him, shoving me back down and starting at a relentless pace that made me and the bed move forward. I grabbed at anything to keep me stationary, and my moans were beginning to sound dumb, mixed with the saliva coming out of my mouth. I couldn’t catch my breath as he hit against my cervix with every thrust.

“C-Captain! I’m c… coming!” He sped up, trying to fuck me through my climax, only to reach his own, pulling out to spread his seed over my bottom. After he was done, signaled by him going to get the towel he had folded up last night, I collapsed down onto the bed, stomach first. My knees were in pain from being in that position for so long, him using his dick to tease me into oblivion and submission.

“My legs…” I groaned to him as he cleaned me off and he just gave one masochistic chuckle, throwing the towel into the dirty clothes bin.

“Should I sneak down and put a sign on the door that you won’t be open today?” I rolled over, now on my back, looking up at him, still bare, but one hand on his hip. He seemed completely unaffected by what he just did to me, other than being extra sweaty. I narrowed my eyes at him, not liking this sudden cockiness.

“Should I tell Hange you like to be called Captain in bed?” I smirked up at him and his smile dropped. He was now glaring at me, but the blush in his cheeks didn’t slide past me one bit. If I could sit up without hurting my guts, I would poke his cheek.

“G-Get the fuck up… you brat. How can you have such a bad work ethic? Sleeping in for so long!” He grabbed a fresh pair of linen pants, sliding them on quickly, and walking out of the room to get away from me.

“I love you!” I called out to him.

“Thanks!”

Chapter Eighteen →

Chapter Masterlist

#levi ackerman scenario #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x oc #levi ackerman #levi ackerman smut #levi smut #levi aot #aot x reader #aot smut #Captain Levi #snk levi #snk #AoT #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin levi #Levi Heichou

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