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starlitscars · 9 months ago

Text

Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state.

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life.

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him.

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now.

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for.

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva.

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you.

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt.

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubled thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer.

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road.

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap.

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your seat, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth.

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share.

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..."

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He is still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knows he wants an eternity with you.

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while – maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world.

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time.

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that.

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more.

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "Is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly.

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons.

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sense it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn-out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings.

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He thinks that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #the last of us #joel miller smut #tommy miller #ellie miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst

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screamlet · 1 month ago

Text

fic: road to nowhere (8x18 spec)

buck and tommy trapped under some concrete and dreaming of other places. 1.2k.

---

Tommy came to rescue them, Buck and Ravi, about an hour ago. That's about as long as Tommy and Buck have been trapped under a concrete slab that collapsed on Ravi's way out.

"Help is on the way," Ravi called through the gaps letting them breathe.

"Are they actually gonna be any help, though," Buck wonders, and realizes he said it out loud.

"I can't believe you'd doubt them over a little building collapse," Tommy says, wheezing more than Buck likes to hear. "That's your team, they've got your back."

Buck's smiling to himself and, for some reason, that catches Tommy's attention.

"Don't they?"

"Everyone deals with grief differently," Buck says.

There's a beat, then Tommy says, "Fuck them. Whatever they did. Or haven't done."

Buck shakes his head. "It's fine, I'm just." And he doesn't have a way to end that sentence. "Ignore me, okay? I'm—I'm being a snitch."

"A snitch? What are you, 12?" Buck smiles to himself again, and Tommy grumbles. "Never thought I'd see the day when I hated to see you smile."

Buck glances at him. "You hate it?"

Tommy's being too honest for how not-hurt he claims to be. "Those smiles don't reach your eyes." He didn't think Tommy would notice. "What are you thinking about? What are you gonna do when you get out of here?"

"We." Buck sends him the most threatening look he can manage.

Tommy acquiesces. "When we get out of here," he repeats.

"I'm thinking of going on a road trip, actually," Buck says. "Getting out of LA for a while. I've got the PTO for it and even if I don't—"

"You'd leave? The 118?"

"I need some space," Buck says slowly. "And Eddie got a job offer in El Paso, but he's thinking of not taking it and moving back, so I'd have to give up the house."

"Uh, no you wouldn't."

Buck makes a face. "Tommy, I'm not gonna let Chris be homeless."

"Do you think firefighter and former Army medic Eddie Diaz, a tax-paying adult with a child, is incapable of fucking apartment hunting?"

"Look, it just makes sense," Buck says.

"It doesn't, but keep talking." Tommy stifles a wince. "The rage will keep me from going into the light."

"It's all lining up, Tommy, honestly," Buck says. "They can take the place off my hands and I can do what I did when I dropped out of college: get in my Jeep and go see the country again."

"What do you mean again?"

Buck smiles at him; it looks like Tommy still hates it. "I got kicked out of college, then out of community college, then Maddie gave me some cash and her Jeep and I ran away from home. Well, I was like, 21, I don't think you can run away from home at that age."

"I don't think there's a statute of limitations on running away from home," Tommy says dryly. "As long as you have a home. Which you do."

Buck looks away, bites the inside of his lower lip. "I did. I don't know if it made it out of the lab, though. I think Bobby took it with him."

Buck whips his head around when Tommy doesn't respond. He's awake, though, but staring at Buck with his lips in a fine, frustrated line. "If losing Bobby means losing your home—losing them—then I don't think you really had it after all."

"Don't say that," Buck says softly. Tommy looks away. Agree to disagree.

"I haven't seen the Milky Way in like, 10 years," Buck says. "I should fix that."

"You think it's changed much?"

"I'm sure it has, even if we can't see the changes. Earth is moving, our solar system is moving, space is moving—"

"Is it?"

"Well, it's expanding, as far as we know," Buck says. "Maybe it doesn't look any different but—but I'm different. So."

Tommy's quiet, then says, "It's been 20 for me. Years. Since I've seen the Milky Way. I'm outdoorsy, but I don't get out to those really remote areas. Haven't for a while."

"It sounds like a good idea, right?"

"It does." Tommy clears his throat, shifts as much as he can under the rubble. "You're going alone, huh?"

"Yeah," Buck says, then pauses so he can look at Tommy. "I—I was planning on it."

Now Tommy smiles, a small thing that lights up the darkness in Buck. "No room for a co-pilot? Someone with awesome taste in music who can help out with the driving sometimes? If—" Tommy motions to the slab. "Provided I've still got a body and everything."

Buck feels sharp pinpricks behind his eyes, at the edges, emotion swelling in his throat. "I keep thinking: this isn't it. This—is this what I wanted? I'd have a home, but I could never leave again?"

"From a homeowner's perspective," Tommy says, always making him laugh. "It's not much of a home if it crumbles the moment you step outside. You can't be the only thing holding it together." He hesitates. "Bobby couldn't be the only thing holding it together."

"Yeah," Buck agrees. "And you?"

"What about me?"

"What are you running from?" Buck knows his smile is too mean, too slick. "If not me, I mean."

Tommy makes a little ha fucking ha face at him, nose crinkling because he can't help being amused. "I wouldn't be running. I'd be coming with you."

"Oh."

"If you wanted the company," Tommy repeats. "Gas money, too. Gas gets expensive."

"Why now?" Buck looks down at his hands. "What's changed? Besides I said something really shitty to you and—and I didn't get to apologize."

"I know you didn't mean it," Tommy says. "And I didn't mean to leave."

"So you want to test out your staying power by trapping yourself in a Jeep with me?"

"Yes, Evan, that's exactly it. You saw right through me."

"Around you," Buck says. "I've gotta shift a little to see past the slab that's gonna suffocate us."

"So it's all hypothetical anyway," Tommy replies.

Buck wonders if Ravi's eavesdropping or if maybe they've been left to die, buried alive. Maybe they're not worth the effort. That sucks; Buck would think Tommy was worth the effort, at least. He has a pilot's license and the people at Harbor probably like him a lot more than the 118 likes Buck right now. In any case: it's quiet and the glimmer of a road trip, taking a breath outside the city limits, feels like it's slipping away.

"Think we're running out of oxygen," Buck comments. "I'm kinda losing the will to live? Is that science? Less oxygen, more hopelessness?"

"Evan," Tommy sighs. "We're gonna get out of here, and then we're gonna get out of here."

Buck takes the hand Tommy reaches out. He's not sure either of them believe that, or each other, or that they'll go anywhere together or apart, or that things will get better but—but for now they can keep each other awake, thinking of other ways and places to be.

#911 fic #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan #tevan fic #my writing #my fic #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 spec fic

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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 1 year ago

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Raging slab - never never know

#Raging slab #(Pronounced Eat-Shit)#never never know #Hard Rock #Southern Rock #Format:#CD #Album #Released:#Sep 2 #2002 #USA

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vinylspinning · 1 year ago

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Beaverteeth: Beaverteeth (1977)

Here's one I wish I could take back, but how was I supposed to guess that a band called Beaverteeth (Beaverteeth, ferchrissake!) would dam their river (in a manner of speaking) with soft rock more so than Southern rock?

Especially when my introduction to these boys from Albany, Georgia, came via an exceptional Southern Rock playlist, full of cool, rare bands, assembled by the ever-reliable Day After the Sabbath blog, and a relatively ballsy cover of Carl Perkins' "Dixie Fried."

Maybe I should have paid some mind to another "cover" -- this 1977 debut album's -- with its strange illustration of two Greek goddesses (or maybe they're just fancy ladies in evening gowns) playing a colorful game of chess.

But noooooo ... to my dismay and horror, the rest of Beaverteeth's self-titled LP set sail on the "smuuuuuuuve" grooves, sweet vocals, and disco strings applied to sappy schmaltz like "Just Another Local Band," "Hope," and "Sacred Harmony."

At their best, the band reveals a reverence for The Beatles on rich, melodious fare like "Sing for You" and "The World's Really Flat," and I suppose the easy-funkin' "I'm Callin'" ain't half bad, but not even these "mid-lights" are spared those damn disco strings.

If nothing else, the band could obviously play, but instrumental skill and good taste (or at least my personal taste) don't necessarily go hand-in-hand.

So by the time Beaverteeth reach a balladic nadir with the downright idiotic "Where Does Love Go (When It Goes Away)" (it goes away, morons!) you'll be begging for mercy, or worse, Debbie Boone's "You Light Up My Life."

And yet, despite all these crimes against humanity, Beaverteeth were allowed back into the studio the following year to record a second and final album entitled Dam It (get it?), but if you think I'm going anywhere near that, forget it!

I think I've had about enough Beaverteeth for one lifetime ...

More Southern Rock: The Allman Brothers Band’s Idlewild South, Black Oak Arkansas’ High On the Hog, Black Stone Cherry's Black Stone Cherry, Blackfoot’s Strikes, Blackhorse’s Blackhorse, Bloontz’s Bloontz, Blue Jug's Blue Jug, Bull's It's a Rock 'n' Roll World, Creed’s Creed, Creedence Clearwater Revival's Bayou Country, Doc Holliday’s Doc Holliday, Epitaph’s Outside the Law, Estus' Estus, The Four Horsemen's Nobody Said it was Easy, Georgia Satellites' Georgia Satellites, Grinderswitch’s Pullin’ Together, Heads, Hands & Feet's Tracks, Hydra’s Hydra, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Second Helping, Molly Hatchet’s Flirtin’ with Disaster, Navasota’s Rootin’, Nitzinger’s Nitzinger, Point Blank’s Point Blank, Potliquor’s Levee Blues, Raging Slab's Raging Slab, Thunder’s Thunder, Two Guns’ Balls Out, Winterhawk's Electric Warriors, ZZ Top’s Rio Grande Mud.

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1800-fight-me · 9 months ago

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Future

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader Rating: E (Explicit-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, explicit PiV sex as well as oral sex (M&F receiving), breeding kink, and daddy kink (oof) Word count: A little over 8.3k Synopsis: Logan goes back to the past in an attempt to save the world, but more importantly- you. (Set in X-Men Days of Future Past and switches between Logan and Reader's POV) Author’s note: Something about Logan makes me absolutely insane to the point that I wrote the longest most explicit sex scene I've ever written.... please enjoy P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Main Masterlist

LOGAN’S POV

The future was dark and bleak. A war of uncontrollable violence, more than Logan had ever seen in his long life.

The only bright spot in such a horrific future was you. You were the peace and rest his aching soul had long been searching for.

It started as two people seeking solace and relief in one another, but the foundation of friendship created something so much more significant than either of you could have predicted.

You became the planet around which he orbited. The home he never thought he’d find. The balm to his raging fire.

Despite the hell that was life in the future, he had you. It was fitting that it caused the world falling to shit for him to finally find you.

His self deprecating thoughts also told him that it was fitting that he lost you too. He didn’t deserve a love so pure and bright. He didn’t deserve such happiness when everyone else he cared about was either suffering or dead.

All the blood on his hands left him marked, scarred, filthy down to his soul. But you looked past all of that, claimed you loved him anyway, claimed him.

He was yours completely, worshiped at the altar of your affection, would go any lengths for you- do anything you ask.

He would do anything to protect you, and it was the biggest black mark on his soul, after an extended lifetime full of mistakes, that he wasn’t able to protect you when it mattered the most.

He shredded the sentinels, the unkillable soldiers in his rage, but one had slipped past his defenses, used your own healing powers against you and sucked the life right from you. Snuffed out your bright light all too soon.

He killed, and killed, and killed- and it still didn’t bring you back.

No one and nothing but him made it out of that abandoned warehouse that night. It was the tipping point for him, it made him bloodthirsty and reckless. It made him willing to go along with Charles and Eric’s ridiculous plan.

As he laid down on the stone slab and allowed the young mutant to send him to the past, his thoughts were only on you.

Everyone knew what his hopes were, but it went unspoken for fear it wouldn’t come true. Logan went back to the past with the desperate desire that he would wake up in a future in which you were still alive. A future he hadn’t already destroyed with the worst mistake he’d ever made. A better future. One you deserved, he would give you anything and everything you asked if he could bring you back.

He woke in 1973 in the arms of a woman who wasn’t you, a woman he didn’t really remember. He hadn’t met you yet in 1973, unfortunately it would be a long while before he met you. And besides, he didn’t have time to search for you, he only had enough time for his mission.

He could only hold onto the hope that he would see you again in the future, if he could change things for the better- if he could finally do something right.

You were his motivation through dealing with younger versions of Charles and Eric, through all the missteps and mistakes, he tried his best to not lose hope.

One last chance, after the mess that was Paris, this intervention was the only possibility of setting things right.

They had to prevent Raven from killing Trask at this ridiculous anti-mutant presentation. Logan was inclined to agree with Raven at this point, but he knew the outcome of that decision and it was one he couldn’t live with.

He and Hank made their way through the large crowds as Hank pushed Charles’ wheelchair, all focused only on their task at hand. Logan scanned the crowd, looking for Mystique despite the fact that Charles would be the only one able to find her.

A voice met his ears, one that made his spine go rod straight. A voice he had unconsciously trained himself to seek out over years.

“I really don’t want to be here,” the voice grumbled.

Logan whipped his head to the left so quickly that if it was possible he probably would have given himself whiplash.

It was you.

His heart pounded harder than it had in the entirety of his two hundred something years.

He stopped dead in his tracks and it was a force of will to not stare at you with his mouth hanging open.

You looked different, but the same. You were younger obviously, your hairstyle and clothes were completely different, but that was you.

His hand ached with the need to hold you, just one more time.

“Please, I get extra credit for attending this thing and I can’t fail my government class,” the woman who he assumed was your friend whined as she clutched at your wrist.

He did a mental tally in his head. Of course, he should’ve remembered that in the early seventies you were in a college not too far from Washington DC. It really wasn’t a huge coincidence that you would be here, but still it felt monumental.

You looked over at her and huffed in resignation.

God, you were cute, he thought.

“Besides, maybe you can meet a handsome guy here. That would lift your spirits, wouldn’t it?” your friend said as she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You rolled your eyes and said, “This isn’t a bar, Jenna. This is anti-mutant government propaganda bullshit.”

As did so often, he agreed with you.

She pouted at you. “Well what if I promise to take you to a bar right after this ends?”

You looked over at her in exasperated fondness and let her pull you forward, closer to where Logan and Hank stood in the crowd.

Hank was saying something to him, something he didn’t hear - his attention entirely on you, and he snapped his head back to Hank as he shook his shoulder.

“What?” Logan snapped.

“Who are you looking at? Do you see Raven?” Hank asked.

Logan took a deep breath and said, “No. I’m looking at my wife.”

“Oh no,” Hank muttered.

“Logan you can’t-“

”It’s not safe for her here,” Logan growled.

————————————————-

YOUR POV

“Look, that guy is looking at you,” Jenna whispered in your ear.

You followed her line of sight and saw the most handsome man you’d ever seen.

He was exactly your type and in tight jeans to boot. He was huge- tall and extremely muscular. His dark hair was the kind of neat disheveled that begged you to run your fingers through it. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses but you could feel his intense gaze through them.

“Holy shit he’s good looking,” you murmured and your friend giggled.

He looked over at who you assumed was his friend and you continued to take him in. You weren’t sure you’d ever checked out a stranger in such a blatant manner before. There was something about him so inviting, despite his tense posture and intense demeanor, that your mouth was practically watering.

“The guy next to him is cute too. Maybe we should go talk to them,” Jenna said.

You tore your eyes from the object of your lust, and looked at the man next to him. He was cute in a nerdy way- exactly Jenna’s type. There was a third man with them, he was in a wheelchair and had his fingers to his temple as he scanned the crowd clearly in search of something or someone important.

“I think they’re coming to us,” you said as the nerdy guy walked towards you.

But unfortunately, the one you wanted to come closer didn’t, he stayed with his companion in the wheelchair and bent down to whisper something in his ear.

“Hey ladies,” the man in glasses said as he approached you and Jenna.

She immediately began to smile and twirl her hair around her finger as she spoke with him eagerly.

He introduced himself as Hank and you shook his hand and introduced yourself as well, but your eyes continued to drift behind him to the other man, the one who you felt an inexplicable tug toward.

“What about your friend?” you asked, your words an interruption to whatever Hank had been saying to Jenna.

Hank looked stressed, but you looked back at the large man only a stone's throw away.

He looked up and made eye contact with you, he must have taken his sunglasses off while you weren’t paying attention. Never before had you felt so stripped bare by just meeting a man’s eyes, there was a whirlwind of emotions within them- something akin to familiarity, possibly even love, and hunger.

It took several moments of drowning in his gaze before you regained your wits about you. You smirked at him.

He crossed his arms over his chest, which made him appear even larger as his muscles flexed. He raised a brow at you, but his lips were upturned in a small smile as if he was smiling despite himself.

You crooked a finger at him, an invitation to come closer.

He smiled and shook his head slightly, almost as if he were reprimanding himself but also couldn’t help himself. He turned his head and said something to his friend in the wheelchair before he strutted over to you.

Every long stride he took towards you led to a tightening in your chest. It wasn’t fear, no, it was yearning. There was something inside you that wanted- no, needed, to know him.

Your instincts were all wrong, he looked like a predator closing in on his prey, something about him sharp and animalistic as he approached you, and yet you felt at ease, intrigued, safe.

“Hi,” you breathed out as he reached you. He smirked and stood a bit closer than would be normal for a stranger, but you didn’t mind at all as you looked up at his towering figure.

He introduced himself in a low gravelly voice that sent a shiver down your spine and hearing his name was like an answer to a question you didn’t even know you’d been asking.

Logan.

You told him your name and he had this secret smile as if he already knew what you were going to say.

He repeated your name, and something in you changed forever at the sound of it on his lips.

“How come you didn’t wanna come say hi?” You asked teasingly.

He looked at you and you felt more at home than ever before, which you knew sounded insane, but you couldn’t deny the way he made you feel.

“Oh I wanted to,” he said and warmth filled you as you smiled at him.

“Logan,” Hank hissed as he elbowed him.

You’d honestly forgotten that you and Logan weren’t the only two people in the world at that moment. You’d forgotten about Jenna, and Hank, and the teeming crowd of people around you.

“I know,” Logan replied to Hank in a grumpy tone that made you huff a small laugh.

“Listen, I know this is going to sound crazy, but you need to leave. This isn’t safe,” Logan said fervently as he placed a large hand gently on your upper arm.

You scrunched your brows at him in confusion.

“Is this some kind of ploy to get me to leave with you?” You joked.

He chuckled, the sound from deep in his chest, and you grinned.

“If only,” he said. “No, pretty girl, I have to stay here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” you said.

His thumb rubbed up and down your arm in a way that was both comforting and familiar.

He glanced over at your friend, and as he saw that she was deep in conversation with Hank, he leaned closer to you in order to whisper in your ear.

“This isn’t a safe place for mutants,” he murmured, urgency in his voice.

You pulled back enough to look into his eyes, shock evident in your expression.

“How do you know-“ you gasped quietly.

He shook his head, “I’m one too, I can explain everything later, but please- for your own safety sweetheart, please leave.”

You met his gaze and something about the urgency and care you found in his eyes made you believe him.

“I suppose I’ll take your word for it. There’s a bar across town called McClarin’s, will you meet me there tonight? You can buy me a drink and explain all this weirdness.” You said.

There was a flash of something akin to sadness in his eyes, but he gave you a tight smile and said, “Of course, I’ll be there. I’d do anything you ask.”

You believed him.

So you turned your head to your friend and said, “Jenna, we’re leaving.”

You ignored her protests and stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek.

His hazel eyes fluttered closed, as if he were savoring the feeling of your lips against his skin.

“Until tonight,” you said as you slipped your hand in Jenna’s. He nodded in agreement and you turned and walked away from him.

“Why are we leaving?” Jenna complained.

“They’re going to meet us at the bar later, we can watch the broadcast on the TV,” you said.

She huffed but agreed as you led her out of the crowd and towards safety.

A little while later you sat at the bar with Jenna- you ate pretzels and nursed a beer, and watched the news.

Logan had been right, it was a dangerous situation for mutants.

Tears filled your eyes and your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched as Logan was massacred by Magneto. His body was violently filled with pieces of metal and then thrown so far the cameras didn’t catch where he landed.

He had to be dead, no one survived something like that. He saved your life and then didn’t survive the fight he protected you from.

None of the news outlets had any information on your mysterious savior.

You spent the evening calling both hospitals and morgues and no one had any knowledge of Logan or even a John Doe that matched his description.

Weeks went by with no news. There was a hole in your heart, which seemed ridiculous considering you’d only met him once, but there was something about a promise unfulfilled.

There was a feeling as if your future had been altered completely, as if Logan was supposed to be a part of it but now he never would be.

————————————————-

Your mutant ability to heal others and yourself led you to work in a hospital as a nurse after you completed all of your schooling.

Years passed and you met Storm when she literally landed in your hospital, as in she was thrown by an enemy and crashed through the ceiling.

You stared at her in shock, then jumped towards her and used your powers to heal the gash in her stomach where blood had already begun pooling. She thanked you before flying off into battle once more.

Once the fight was won, Storm came back and asked you to come with her to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

You were intrigued and soon found yourself as a professor of health sciences, part time school nurse, and an X-Man on the side. You weren’t much of a fighter, during missions you really mostly hung back and healed the injured X-Men as well as any civilians fought in the crossfire.

It was a fulfilling life, one you enjoyed immensely, but something always felt like it was missing. You dated a bit but being so busy prevented anything deep.

There was no spark, no instant connection with anyone like there had been with Logan. You supposed it really was a once in a lifetime experience.

It didn’t help that you weren’t interested in anyone romantically that you worked with. Storm, who had quickly become a great friend, encouraged you to give Hank a chance when he pursued you. You tried, he was nice, but it just wasn’t love, and after a few months you ended it. Luckily you were able to remain as friends.

Time passed and Professor X pointed out to you that you didn’t appear to age. At first you brushed him off as ridiculous, but eventually consented to let Jean run tests on you.

As it turned out, your ability to heal yourself extended to things such as diseases and life’s natural course of aging.

Eternity yawned its horrid mouth open before you and the loneliness of it threatened to swallow you whole.

You took a leave of absence to avoid others seeing you in the midst of an existential crisis. You traveled for a couple of months, took time to see the world in a way you never had before, met beautiful strangers, and came to terms with the fact that it was likely you would never die, that any connections you did make would die long before you were ever ready.

You decided to make the most of life, embrace the joy and the hurt, and returned home.

As soon as you walked through the door of the mansion, everything felt different, but perhaps it was you that was changed so irrevocably.

You made your way towards Professor X’s office and literally ran into a man as he walked out.

“Ugh,” you groaned as your face squished into a broad chest. The body you slammed into was so sturdy the man didn’t even stumble, he merely placed large hands on your shoulders to steady you.

“Woah there, speedy. You alright?” A deep voice said. Something about that voice tickled something in the back of your brain, a memory from years ago.

“Sorry!,” you exclaimed as you stepped back and looked up to see his face.

“Logan,” you breathed out in surprise as you finally saw him. He looked nearly the same as all those years ago. His hair and clothes were slightly different, but it was definitely him. He was as handsome as the day you lost him.

He raised a brow in confusion as he looked at you.

“Have we met?” He asked.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. The man of your dreams, the man you thought had died and yet you had continued to pine over for years, was standing before you and didn’t remember you. He didn’t remember meeting you, an experience that had been so cataclysmic in your life but apparently unimpressionable in his.

“Yes, many years ago,” you breathed out.

He looked you up and down and said, “Well, I really wish I remembered that.”

You huffed a laugh to cover up the ache in your heart as you looked down at your feet. You told him your name as his hands finally slipped from your shoulders, you mourned the loss of his touch.

As he repeated your name in that gravelly tone your heart thumped harder in your chest, despite yourself.

“I don’t remember anything before a few years ago,” he said.

“Oh?” You asked. Maybe it wasn’t that you were forgettable, it was just that he didn’t remember anything.

“What happened?” You breathed out.

Confusion and echoes of pain clouded his gorgeous hazel eyes. “I don’t remember, but I know it was painful,” he said.

You placed a hand on his arm in comfort and said, “Maybe the professor can help you figure it out.”

He nodded, “Not sure if I’ll be sticking around long enough. Being on a team isn’t really my thing.”

“Sure it’s not,” you teased with a wink, thinking back to the team he was clearly a part of back when you met him.

He grumbled something you didn’t quite catch at the same time Charles came out of his office to greet you.

You bid Logan goodbye as you followed Charles into his office to catch up after your extended absence.

Your heart still pounded from meeting Logan and you wore a grin you couldn’t prevent for several minutes.

And to your delight, you found out later in the day that Logan decided to stay. You weren’t sure what the deciding factor was, but you were happy all the same.

Maybe things would fall into place, perhaps your future could end up brighter than previously anticipated.

————————————————-

LOGAN’S POV

Logan awoke, the same song playing on the radio, your song. He lurched out of the bed and stumbled out of the room. As he opened the door wonder filled him as he realized he was in the mansion.

Children bustled past him as they went to their classes. Friends and family that were long since passed in his future smiled and waved at him as he walked through his home eyes full of wonder.

It had worked, all the effort and pain had been worth it, everything was as it should be. The only question that remained was you. Where were you?

He made his way to Charles’ office and sighed in relief when he saw him safe and alive.

His old friend welcomed him back to the future, a better future.

“Where is she?” He breathed out as Charles read his mind, getting a glimpse of his past.

“She’s here, she’s safe, but Logan you should know-“

At that moment you walked into Charles’ office and if Logan wasn’t already sitting he would’ve fallen to his knees. He’d never seen such a beautiful sight.

He breathed out your name like a prayer and you looked over at him. He didn’t even register the look on your face, he’d already made his way across the room and wrapped you in his arms.

“Logan,” you squeaked out. “What the hell?”

He lifted you up and buried his face in your neck.

“Can’t breathe,” you huffed as you pushed on his shoulders in an attempt to get him to release you from the vice hold he had you in.

He put you down and looked down at you, placed a hand on the side of your gorgeous face- it wasn’t until now that he took in your expression.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

You pulled back from him again, even went so far as to push his hand from you and took a step back.

“What’s gotten into you? Why the hell do you think you can just-” You asked in confusion, irritation coloring your tone.

He cut you off as he blurted out, “What? I don’t understand-“

“Logan, in this timeline you and her broke up,” Charles said.

“Broke up?” Logan asked with raised eyebrows, the words lacked any meaning to him. There was no future in which he and you were not together. It was inconceivable.

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said. At the same time you asked, “this timeline?”

You both looked at one another in confusion.

“Sit, both of you, let me explain,” Charles said.

Logan sat and watched your expression change from suspiciousness to utter shock as Charles explained that Logan was from a different future, a different timeline, and had replaced the Logan you knew.

He didn’t remember anything after 1973, other than the horrible future he had come from. But he did remember the first time you met that day in Washington DC. Although for him that was far from the first time you’d met.

“That’s a lot of information. I think you broke my brain- that’s so confusing,” you breathed out.

Logan’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest as he tried to gauge your reaction.

You turned to him. “So in this future I’m guessing you and I are together?”

Logan nodded.

“Well not in this one,” you muttered and stood to leave.

“Wait, princess - talk to me,” Logan pleaded as he grabbed your hand.

You turned back and glared at him. “Logan, I don’t care which version of you it was, you broke my heart and I have no interest in sitting here listening to any more of this.”

You yanked your hand from his and stormed out of the office. You left him feeling helpless and empty.

He looked over at the Professor. “What happened?” He asked.

“It’s still fresh. The others have found her crying multiple times over the last few days. I tried not to pry but-“

“You went into her head,” Logan guessed and Charles nodded.

He prepared himself for the worst and the flicker of hope in his chest began to gutter. He would be devastated if after all of this he couldn’t be with you.

“The two of you have been together for about five years, were close friends for years before that, but she ended it about a week ago during an argument. She wanted to have a child and you didn’t,” Charles explained.

“That’s it? She wants a baby? I’ll give her a baby. I’ll give her whatever she wants, the version of me from this timeline must be a goddamn idiot,” Logan said sharply.

Charles chuckled. “I spoke to the other you yesterday, he had come to the same conclusion. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a child, he was just letting his fears get in the way.”

“I have to go talk to her,” Logan practically growled as he stood and stalked out of the office in search of you.

It wasn’t difficult to find you. He had memorized the sound of your heartbeat, your scent, and was all too familiar with the salty tang of your tears.

He found you in a bedroom he assumed was yours, he knocked and let himself in despite your garbled yell of, “Go away!”

It was clear this was the makeshift room you’d moved into after the break up, your decorations were all in boxes, your clothes piled everywhere and spilled out of drawers, and everything all together more messy and haphazard than he knew you liked to keep things.

You sat curled in the bed as tears streamed down your sweet face.

“Go away Lo,“ you sniffled as you quickly wiped your tears away.

“Oh, my sweet girl-“ Logan said in a gentle voice only you knew.

“No, Logan I’m not yours anymore,” the words were weak and he could tell you didn’t even really mean them.

He came closer to the bed and you glared at him but didn’t say a word as he sat down and pulled you into his lap.

You sunk into his embrace and buried your face in his neck. He ran his hand up and down your back soothingly.

Your fingers tangled into his shirt, your breaths were shaky, and a few more tears managed to escape. His heart ached at the pain you were in.

“I changed the timeline of our universe to be with you. I’m not gonna let anything stand in our way. So, you want a baby, I’ll give you a baby. I’ll give you as many babies as you want. I’ll give you anything you want, I’d do anything for you. I love you,” he said and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“But-“

“And before you ask, Charles told me that the Logan in this future had come to the same conclusion and was planning on making things right with you today. In every timeline, I want to make you happy.”

He wiped the tears from your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Did we ever talk about kids in your future?” You asked in a soft vulnerable voice.

He held you tighter.

“Only once, but it wasn’t a possibility for us, that future was too dangerous. So dangerous that I lost you. I wouldn’t survive losing you again.”

At the pain in his voice you pulled back enough to meet his gaze.

“Tell me about that future,” you asked gently.

And so he did, every awful part of it as he held you in his arms and reminded himself that this was real, that you were safe and alive, that this was his new future.

You wiped the tear that slipped down his face as you looked up at him in awe.

“You did all that for me? For us?” You asked in wonder.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said fervently. You placed your hand on the side of his face and his eyes fluttered closed as he finally, finally received affection from you after so long.

He nuzzled his face into your hand, pressed his lips against the pulse point at your wrist, finally let himself sink into your intoxicating presence.

You slipped your hand into his hair and pressed a featherlight kiss to his lips. The weight of time without you pressed in on him and his self control snapped, with one hand on the back of your head and the other on your waist, he crushed you against his body and kissed you with desperation.

He wanted to consume you, to sink inside you, to never be apart from you again.

You made a high pitched sweet sound of surprise before you kissed him just as fervently. He groaned into your mouth at the taste of you as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

It was absolute heaven.

This kiss could have gone on for hours or perhaps only seconds, he didn't know, no time was enough with you.

You pulled back and looked at him. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you,” he groaned and pressed his lips to yours repeatedly.

You breathed out a soft giggle at his expression of adoration.

He tilted his head back to look you deep in the eyes once more and said, “Let’s make a baby.”

You looked flustered and he thought it was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen.

“Right now? I-“

“I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart. I want to. Wanna give you want you want,” he moaned as he kissed you again.

“Missed you too,” you whimpered as his lips drifted across your jaw and down your throat.

————————————————-

YOUR POV

It was all consuming. He was everywhere all at once as he laid you on your back and pressed himself on top of you.

The weight and heat of him was both comforting and intoxicating. The last few hours had given you emotional whiplash, but it was Logan.

Apparently he was your soulmate no matter the timeline. He kissed you as if he were drowning and you were his breath of fresh air. He said everything you’d been dreaming of, and more as he declared his love and promised to fulfill your every desire.

There was nothing the two of you couldn’t overcome as a team. You loved him and he loved you, and maybe that was all that mattered.

As he bit down on your neck, all other thoughts flew from your head, it was just him. You and him- forever. There would be no long lonely life, he would be by your side always.

“Logan,” you gasped and he groaned against your neck as he continued to nip and suck at the skin there. He loved to mark you as his and the thought made your toes curl.

As if he could read your mind, he said, “Tell me you’re mine.”

His tongue licked up the column of your throat and you panted, “I’m yours, Lo. Only yours.”

“Marry me,” he murmured against your skin.

‘What?” You breathed out as you placed your hands on either side of your face and pulled him back enough to meet his hazel gaze. His pupils were blown with a combination of love and lust which caused heat to fill your entire body.

“Marry me,” he repeated, then pressed his lips to yours again.

“Yes,” you gasped into his mouth. His fingers gripped your waist tighter as they slipped under your shirt and met your heated skin.

“Let me make you mine forever,” he growled and you whimpered and nodded as you tugged at his t-shirt.

He helped you pull it off him and you let out a soft groan as your hand explored his broad chest, then down his muscled torso as you followed the trail of hair that led to the vee partially hidden beneath his jeans. Your mouth watered as your hand reached his belt, and you saw the evidence of his desire for you straining against his pants.

He snatched your hand right as you were about to reach his hardened length and you whined in frustration.

“Please, Lo,” you breathed out and he smirked in that cocky way that made you want to either smack him or suck him off.

“No, I’m gonna take my time with you, pretty girl,” he said as he pulled your shirt off, then immediately followed with removing your bra. You whimpered again at the feeling of his skin against yours as he leaned back down and kissed you.

His lips trailed to your breasts and you moaned as he licked and suckled at your sensitive nipples. Your core heated and throbbed as you became slick with desire for him.

You gripped the muscles of his tensed shoulders as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

You attempted to grind yourself against his hard cock but he bit down on your neck in reprimand.

“Stop that,” he growled.

You moaned in response and he chuckled darkly. Suddenly he sat up- and you squeaked in surprise at the sudden shift as he stood from the bed. Before you could respond, he yanked you to the edge of the bed and kneeled before you.

“C’mon, be a good girl and I’ll reward you with my cock, I’ll fill you to the brim, give you a baby just like you want. You just have to be a good girl and let me make you come on my tongue, can you do that princess- hm?”

You moaned at his words, nodding vigorously as he slid off your jeans and spread your legs before him.

“Use your words,” he taunted as he rested your legs on his broad shoulders.

His nose ran up, up, up the inside of your thigh until it reached your panties. He groaned deeply as he took in a deep breath- turned near feral at the scent of your arousal.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be good, please- just please, Lo,” you babbled.

Another deep noise from the back of his throat came from the sounds of your sweet begging as he used his teeth to pull your panties off.

You gasped as his warm wet tongue licked up your gushing pussy, all the way from your hole to your throbbing clit.

“You this wet just for me, princess?” He said, the words muffled against your cunt. He began flicking his tongue over the most sensitive part of you and you keened.

Your back arched and you plunged your fingers into his hair, your fingers tangled in and gripped the brown and silver strands.

“Yes, for you, only for you, always for you,” rambled.

The squelching sounds of your cunt as he pressed two fingers inside mixed with your heavy pants and his groans to create the most erotic symphony you’d ever heard.

Your whines reached a fever pitch as his fingers curdled and pressed against the spongy spot inside you that made you forget anything but his name as his tongue continued to flick and swirl around your clit.

“Logan!” you moaned.

“Missed this pretty pussy,” he growled.

Heat filled you as electricity prickled up your spine. You writhed on the bed and pressed your cunt closer to his mouth.

One of his large hands smacked your hip lightly in reprimand. He then laid his arm down across your waist to hold you still.

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl, or do I need to stop,” he teased as he looked up at you and you moaned.

You slick coated his lips and beard, his hair was disheveled from your hands, and his gorgeous eyes were blown with desire.

“No, I’ll be good, promise,” you panted.

He smiled at you, the kind of smile a predator gives their prey before they pounce, and licked you once again.

You were completely at his mercy, pinned to the bed, his fingers inside you and his mouth on your cunt.

You dug your heels into the muscles of his back in an attempt to urge him on.

The tension inside you built and built as his tongue continued its ministrations.

“M’gonna come, Lo,” you whined.

“Good girl, come for me,” he replied then sucked on your clit.

The pleasure was so intense as his thick fingers continued to hit that spot inside you that lightning ran up your spine and you came with a moan of his name.

He continued to lick until you yanked on his hair in an attempt to pull his head away as his arm across your hips kept you pinned to the bed and wiggling away wasn’t an option.

He chuckled darkly as he pressed a final kiss to your bundle of pleasure then looked up at you.

“Did I do good? You gonna reward me with your cock, daddy?” you asked.

There was a heartbeat before he replied, where you worried you went too far as he looked at you in surprise.

But then came his response, “Fuck. Yes, sweetheart, you’re perfect. Daddy’s gonna give you his cock, gonna fill you up real good.”

You whimpered in desire as he stood. You sat up and immediately began to yank at his belt.

He smirked as he looked down on you- watched you in your desperation to reach his thick cock.

Your mouth watered as you won your fight with his belt and zipper and yanked the jeans down enough to get a glimpse of his gloriously hard dick.

Logan finally took pity on you and helped you to remove his pants altogether, which left him wonderfully bare before you.

Good god, he was sexy- his rippling muscles glistened with sweat and you wanted to lick every inch of his skin.

He lifted your face with a hand on your chin so you would meet his eyes once more.

At the heat in his gaze you felt yourself gush even more.

His thumb brushed across your bottom lip and you obediently opened your mouth. He pressed his thumb into your mouth and you moaned softly as you sucked on it.

“Shit, you’re killing me, pretty girl. Lay back, I need to be inside you,” he growled.

You let him pull his thumb out of your mouth and looked up at him through your lashes.

“Can I taste you first?” you asked sweetly.

His eyes rolled back into his head and he gripped your chin tighter.

“Course you can, my good girl gets whatever she wants,” he said then led your face closer to his cock.

You wanted to live in this moment forever, your head fuzzy with ecstasy only he could provide and empty of anything but him as you were eager to please him. You wanted to be his - in every possible way.

You wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and pressed a kiss to the tip as you looked up at him. His breaths stuttered and power rushed to your head. You had this big strong man literally in the palm of your hand as you gave him pleasure that nearly brought him to his knees as your tongue peeked out and you licked the sensitive underside of his tip.

He groaned your name and that prompted you on as you opened your mouth and began to take in some of his length and suckled gently.

You moaned at the salty taste of him in your mouth, and took him in deeper as your hand worked in tandem.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured.

You rubbed your thighs together in an desperate but fruitless attempt to generate friction as your clit throbbed again with need. There was nothing as delicious as the grunts and groans Logan made as you took him deeper into your mouth.

His hand slipped from the side of your face to cradle the back of your head and you moaned around his length as he led you to take him deeper into your throat. You took deep breaths through your nose as you swallowed him, taking him in far enough that you no longer needed to use your hand and instead used your hand to gently cup his balls.

“That’s it, doing so good f’me,” Logan groaned.

The musky scent of him filled your nostrils as your nose brushed against the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. His other hand began to flick and pinch at your nipple and you moaned around his length.

His size was substantial, but you were used to it at this point and your head emptied, only Logan present in your mind, as you let him guide your mouth up and down on his cock as you sucked him deeper.

It was everything you wanted and more, until he pulled you off him. A string of saliva connected from your bottom lip to his tip as you gasped for air and looked up at him.

He wiped away the spit as he murmured out, “fuckin’ perfect.”

You whimpered as he surged forward and kissed you, near feral with desire.

“Logan,” you gasped as he manhandled you further back onto the bed and laid himself on top of you.

He continued to kiss you, his lips moved against yours and you surged closer- your chin bumped his as you kissed him urgently. His tongue explored your mouth and electricity filled you. Your body was filled with desperation as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

“Need you inside me, please daddy, need your huge cock inside me, need you to fill me up,” you pleaded as he began to kiss and suck on your neck. You knew there would be bruises there tomorrow, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care - it was only more evidence that you belonged to him.

He chuckled darkly and said, “You sound so pretty when you beg, princess. Don’t worry, daddy’s got you.” He reached down and lined his cock up to your desperate hole and you whined in relief.

Slowly, so slowly, Logan pressed himself inside you. Inch by inch he sunk his cock deep inside your cunt and the feeling was unlike any other.

He caged you in with his large arms on either side of your head and you pulled his face down for another desperate kiss.

Once he was seated fully inside you, it was as if all the franticness of the moment dissipated and you both felt the need to savor the moment, to extend it for as long as possible, to live in this experience of perfection for eternity.

There were times that sex with Logan was rough and animalistic, but you both knew that this wouldn’t be one of those times. This was making love - this was a reunion, a reconciliation, a healing of hurts, a fusion of souls.

You looked deep into his eyes and found home.

You locked your ankles around his waist to keep him close, the desire to be as close to him as possible all consuming. His deep breaths pressed his chest against yours and there was nothing in the world but you and him.

One of his hands stroked your arm as you reached up and placed your hand on the side of his face. The other rested against his shoulder as you gripped the muscles you found there.

You caressed his cheek and ran your fingers in his beard.

“I love you,” you whispered.

His eyes became bright with emotion, he had the prettiest eyes you’d ever seen- dark green with rings of brown that held unconditional love for you.

He murmured your name and it sounded like a prayer of devotion as it fell from his plush lips. He pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

He pulled back enough to press his forehead against yours.

“I love you more than anything,” he replied.

You felt perfectly incandescently happy, so wonderfully full of him, and despite both of your desires for this moment to never end, you also needed him to move inside you.

“Please, Lo,” you breathed out.

He knew exactly what you meant and he braced his forearms on either side of your head and pulled his hips back. Logan pulled back enough that only the tip of his cock remained inside you, before he sunk back in slowly.

Your breaths mingled with his and it felt as if the two of you were on an island of your own- as if you were the only two people in the world.

There was a feeling of connectedness, as if the puzzle pieces had all finally fallen into place, as your heartbeat sped and began to beat in time with his.

“You feel so good, so big,” you breathed out as he continued his slow steady pace. Again, and again, and again he pushed himself inside you.

He moaned and kissed you again, this time messy and more urgent.

The string of fate that connected the two of you pulled taunt, became stronger as a result of your union, as you declared to one another your infinite commitment and love.

You clenched down as he increased his pace.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl, so fuckin’ tight,” he said, his lips moved against yours as he imprinted the praise into your mouth.

There was a delicious feeling of fullness as you felt stretched and stuffed to the brim with his cock, as your heart threatened to burst at the care he showed you. Your hands ran across his arms and shoulders, around and down to his back where your nails dug into the sweat slicked muscles you found there.

He grunted and again increased his pace. Your thighs tightened around his waist and you held onto him more securely as he pistoned his cock inside you.

There was no better feeling than when he was inside you. His cock repeatedly hit that spot deep within that made you see stars and you felt that familiar burning inside you begin to grow.

There was no possible way to be closer to him. His face was buried in your throat, his chest pressed against yours and every thrust brushed your sensitive nipples against the hair there, your puffy clit felt shockwaves of every thrust as his groin grinded against it, the slick of your arousal coated you both- there was no possible way to be closer to him, and yet somehow you needed more.

“Daddy, please,” you gasped.

“Mhm, is this what my pretty girl needs?”

He shoved a hand between your bodies and began to press tight circles against your throbbing clit.

“Yes!” You let out a high pitched whine as you threw your head back let out a low groan as you clenched down on his thick cock.

The squelching sounds of your joining bodies should’ve made you embarrassed, but white hot pleasure eroded all your senses.

“C’mon pretty baby, come for daddy and then I’ll fill you up, I’ll make you full of me, make sure everyone knows you’re mine with my ring on your finger and my baby in your stomach. S’that what you want? Huh? You want everyone to know you’re mine?” he growled in your ear.

“God, y-yes, Logan- fuck,” you stuttered out.

He continued to fuck into you with those long harsh thrusts, the pace quick and intense as his finger drew tight circles on your overstimulated clit. It balanced you on the line of pleasure and pain, but his words pushed you over the edge.

You gasped loudly, “M’gonna come!”

He grabbed your face and said, “Look at me.”

White hot pleasure exploded through you. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared deep into his intense gaze as you came on his cock.

He groaned along with you as you clenched down on him.

“Shit, that’s my good girl,” he said and kissed you sloppily.

You keened at the praise, your head fuzzy with ecstacy. Your nails again dug into his back as he continued to pump himself inside you as he chased his own release.

His breaths came harder as his sweat slicked skin slid against yours. His hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise as his pace somehow increased.

There was nothing you could do but take it. This-this was bliss, this was perfection.

“Want you to fill me up, want you to come in me, please Lo,” you whined.

He groaned and with one more deep thrust he pushed himself as far inside you as possible and came. He filled you up, with stuttered breaths and hips, he came until he had nothing else to give.

You pulled your head back from his neck, where you had bit down- hard, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

You could’ve sworn that the thread of fate, the connection between the two of you glowed in the aftermath.

With a grunt, he flipped over onto his back as he held you tight, and kept you against him and pulled you on top of him as he kept his cock inside you.

You rested your head against his chest.

“Can we just stay like this for a while?” you asked.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as his large hand ran up and down your back.

“Of course, princess. Anything you want.”

And so you did. After all, time was a minuscule thing when the entirety of a new future together stretched before you.

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n

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knight-hiccup · 4 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐌 | Hiccup x Fem!Reader ₁

This is Chapter 1 to this Hiccup series -> Masterlist here. Previous Chapter : Next Chapter

Summary: After a deadly tempest rage against Berk, a maelstrom in the sea claims your parents—Where you were then eventually passed into the gruff, tender care of Gobber as his adopted niece. Help raising you beneath the clang of his forge alongside his own godson, Hiccup, a boy destined to defy the world. Hiccup and you stand through many hardships as childhood friends, and awkward occasions as two misfits against the world—a fierce baker of breads and a dreamer craving Viking glory. Pairing: Hiccup x fem!reader Genre: romance, fantasy, suspense, drama, angst, dark, vioIence, friends to lovers, dark themes, heavy Viking lore, Norse mythology, canon divergence, slow burn Word count: 5.1k Warnings: This will have the lore of the films + shows but with much darker themes. Gore/blood, mentions of death, Norse mythology, some realistic dragon themes, more realistic scenarios, and mature themes starting at the point httyd 2 ark comes in, so, ofc NSFW. Any other warnings will be properly tagged upon story progression. A/N: Reader descriptions are not described besides the clothing, true to Viking/httyd fashion from time to time.

CHAPTER 1

The Great Hall of Berk hummed with the morning clamor of a village waking to the promise of a new day. The air was thick with the scent of yeast and woodsmoke, the sweet smell of fresh baked goods ready for the taking but not without a symphony of chaos swirling around you as you danced between ovens and tables in a blur, with flour-dusted hands.

Loaves of bread, their golden crusts glistening with a crisp perfection, stacked high upon the counters in a tantalizing display. Among them, an irresistible assortment of buns—barley, ryes smothered in butter, and berries with oats—each mouthwatering with rustic flavor.

Stretching before you, a mile-long table groans under the weight of temptation: frothy eggnog, honeyed mead, and robust ale, each poised to dance with creamy skyr's or steaming bowls of porridge. And that's just the beginning. Succulent meats, tender fish, plump eggs, vibrant fruits, and crunchy nuts sprawl across the spread, a cornucopia of delights ready to satisfy the ravenous hunger of the tribe.

While the shouts of hungry Vikings echoed through the stone walls—orders barked with the urgency of warriors prepping for any sudden battle.

"More rye, lass!"

"Where's the barley flatbread?"

"Don't skimp on the butter this time!"

You stumbled over your own feet, catching yourself against a barrel of pickled herring before it toppled, a laugh bubbling up despite the madness. This was your domain, your forge of flour and fire, and though the frenzy threatened to swallow you whole, pride sparked in your chest like a well-tended ember.

You kneaded the last batch of dough with a fierceness that would've made a dragon crawl away, slamming it onto the table with a satisfying thwack. The rhythm of it steadied you—knead, fold, press—until the dough was smooth and ready for the oven. Wiping sweat from your brow with the sleeve of your elbow, already streaked with flour, you surveyed the kitchen.

Milkmaidens darted about, their aprons flapping like dragon wings, juggling trays of cheese and slabs of smoked fish. The head cook, a stout woman named Marta, bellowed at a young lad who'd nearly upended a cauldron of porridge. It was a storm, yes, but one you'd learned to ride with the same grit that kept Berk standing against the war.

"That's the last of it," you called, sliding the dough into the roaring oven. The heat kissed your face as you shut the iron door with a clang. Turning to Marta, you tugged at the ties of your apron. "I've got to run—Hiccup's waiting."

Marta's head snapped up; her wooden spoon poised mid-stir like a weapon. "Now? You're leaving me in this mess? The chieftain's crew'll be here any minute, and they'll eat us alive if the bread's not—"

"You've got it under control," you shot back, already halfway to the door, snagging a cloth from the counter. With a deft hand, you bundled a wedge of creamy goats' cheese, between a hunk of fresh flatbread, with some smoked meat and a fried egg—Hiccup's favorite, a little morning ritual you'd started years ago when his skinny frame needed coaxing to fill out. "Besides, I'll be back before Stoick's beard hits the table!"

"Lass, you're a menace!" Marta hollered in her heavy accent, but there was a grudging fondness in her tone as she waved you off, already turning to scold the porridge boy again.

You burst out of the Great Hall into the crisp morning, the wind tugging at your hair as it carried the tang of salt and pine from the cliffs and mountainside. Berk sprawled before you, alive with the clatter of hammers, the bleat of sheep, and the distant roar of a blow horns and shouts overhead—probably one of the twins stirring trouble again.

Your boots pounded the dirt path, the bundle clutched tight against your chest, warm and fragrant. The village blurred past—old man Mildew grumbling at his cabbages, a gaggle of kids chasing a chicken—and your heart thudded with a mix of urgency and something softer, something that always stirred when you thought of Hiccup.

He'd be waiting, probably perched on that rocky outcrop overlooking the harbor you two always shared, scribbling in his sketchbook or muttering to himself about some wild new idea. Ever since you were kids, he'd drag you into his schemes—mapping new ideas that would benefit Berk, testing contraptions that usually ended in singed eyebrows or a stern lecture from Gobber.

You'd been his shadow, his anchor, and somewhere along the way now both at the tender age of fifteen, that quiet crush you waved off had settled in your chest and blossomed more unwillingly. Only sometimes you'd hope he'd never see you as just the bread making Viking who tagged along. A small hope that flickered every time his green eyes lit up with a grin meant just for you—though you'd long convinced yourself it was nothing more than friendship to save yourself.

The path climbed, and your breaths came sharp as you rounded the final bend. There he was, silhouetted against the rising sun, a lanky figure hunched over, legs dangling off the cliff. Hiccup's auburn hair caught the light, tousled by the breeze, and his head was bent over something—probably another madcap invention doomed to earn Gobber's exasperated sigh.

You slowed, catching your breath, and felt that familiar tug in your chest. As you stepped forward, cheesecloth in hand, the wind carried a faint growling-rumble from him, and a laugh slipped from your lips—half at the oddity of the sound, half at the sight of Hiccup's hunched frame as he scribbled away in his journal.

His head snapped up at the sound, green eyes catching yours as you crested the hill. A grin flickered across his face—real and unguarded, the kind he saved just for you—and he set down his tools quickly as you closed the distance. You dropped onto the grass beside him, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"Brought you your fave again," you said, unwrapping the cloth with a flourish. "My original, egg-cheese, meat breakfast muffin!"

Hiccup's eyes lit up, and he snatched it from your hands, sinking his teeth into it without a second's pause. "Gods, this is my favorite," he mumbled through a mouthful, voice warm with that earnestness that always tugged at you.

You smiled, pulling out your own and taking a bite, the rich tang of the cheese and smoky meat settling on your tongue. For a moment, you both fell quiet, chewing in companionable silence as the sun rose higher, painting Berk's jagged cliffs in hues in warm orange and blue. The village sprawled below, a patchwork of roofs and smoke trails, framed by the endless sea stretching toward the horizon. It was a rare stillness, the kind that felt like a held breath.

Hiccup finished first, brushing crumbs from his tunic with a satisfied sigh, then turned to you, his face alight with sudden energy. "I did it," he said, voice buzzing with excitement.

"Finished your food first?" You respond sarcastically.

"Yes, but no—Finished the dragon trap. It's gonna catch a Night Fury—the Night Fury."

You nodded, still savoring your muffin, as he leaned closer to you.

"This is it, y'know? If I can pull this off, everyone'll finally notice me—Dad, the village, everybody. Maybe I'll even. . ." He hesitated, a flush creeping up his neck. "Maybe even get a girlfriend."

You kept chewing, the meat turning a little tougher in your mouth as you tilted your head, listening. His eyes were fixed on the horizon now, bright with dreams you'd heard a hundred times—dreams you'd helped him sketch on scraps of parchment, dreams you'd quietly wished might one day include you. But you nodded anyway, letting him ramble on about the trap's clever gears and the glory he was chasing.

"You'll do it, Hiccup. You've been planning this for months now. Now we just wait for that dragon. Hopefully, of course, without destruction on its part. . ."

His eyes flicked to yours, brightening, and he nodded—a small, grateful smile breaking through his usual tangle of nerves. "Thanks," he said, soft but sure, the word landing like a spark between you. "And for having my back on this."

For a beat, you held his gaze, that ache in your chest flaring, before the distant clang of the forge bell snapped you both back to Berk's relentless rhythm.

"Gobber's gonna skin you if you don't get back to work," you teased, brushing crumbs from your hands as you stood. Hiccup groaned, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, and Marta's probably got a ladle with your name on it," he shot back, smirking. You laughed, hefting the empty cloth.

"Meet you at the forge later? After I've survived the Great Hall, and you've dodged Gobber's wrath?"

"Deal," he said, already turning back to his workbench, muttering about adjustments. You lingered a moment, watching him, then turned down the path, the rumble fading into the morning's hum.

The hours slipped by in a blur of Hairy Hooligan chaos. Back at the Great Hall, you dodged Marta's sharp tongue and the Vikings' endless appetites, morning, afternoon, and now evening. Your hands stirring while your mind wandered to Hiccup's trap—and the plans to come after.

Meanwhile, the village churned on: smoke curled from chimneys, sheep bleated, and somewhere, a horn sounded signaling another practice raid thwarted. By evening, the sun hung low, casting sharp shadows over Berk's rugged sprawl, and you finally broke free, boots kicking up dust as you headed for the forge again.

The forge glowed like a dragon's maw, heat rippling the air as you approached. Gobber's voice boomed over the clang of metal, his hammer-hand punctuating a lecture you could've recited by heart. "—and if ye think I'm cleanin' up another one of yer 'genius' messes, Hiccup, ye've got another thing comin'!"

Hiccup stood by the anvil, head ducked, fiddling with a tangle of rope and gears that looked suspiciously like his trap. He caught your eye as you stepped in, flashing a sheepish grin—half apology, half plea for rescue.

"Saved by the baker," you called, leaning against a workbench. Gobber wheeled around, his eyes narrowing, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Oi, lass, don't encourage him! This one's been goofin' about all mornin'—nearly set me eyebrows on fire, he did." Hiccup opened his mouth to protest, but Gobber barreled on, waving his hammer-hand.

"And you—shouldn't ye be feedin' the village instead of nursin' this troublemaker's ego?"

"Already did," you said, crossing your arms. "Thought I'd see if Hiccup's still in one piece." Hiccup rolled his eyes, but the grin lingered as he hefted the trap's frame, its metal glinting in the forge light.

"It's ready," he said, voice brimming with that restless energy you knew too well. "Tonight's the night—I can feel it."

Gobber snorted, muttering something about "fool's hope," but you caught the flicker of pride in his gruff stare at Hiccups invention. The forge hummed around you, a heartbeat of steel and sparks. Whatever Hiccup was chasing, it was coming fast and it almost made you nervous.

The forge's glow dimmed into the late dark evening, shadows stretching long across the cluttered workbench. Gobber's patience finally snapped, his hammer-hand clanging against an anvil for emphasis as you too went on and on about things he could care less about.

"That's it—I can't be around ye two anymore tonight! Bunch of misfits, schemin' and chatterin' like a pair of natterin' nannies. Don't blow the place up, ye hear?" He stomped toward the door, muttering under his breath about needing a tankard of mead and a moment's peace, leaving the air buzzing with his departure.

You side glanced at Hiccup, catching the glint in his eye as he turned to you, practically vibrating with excitement. "Finally," he said, running up to his dragon trap tucked away near the corner space. You admitted it looked really neat, like some of his previous inventions—this was a contraption as wild as his imagination. It didn't surprise you.

"C'mere, look at this." He said excitedly patting it before he crouched beside it, beckoning you closer, and launched into an explanation that tumbled out faster than a terrible terror could attack.

"See, the tension's all in the springs here," he said, tapping a coiled mechanism. "One good shot, and it'll snap shut—bam!—right around the Night Fury's entire body. Fastest dragon out there, but it won't see this coming." His hands danced over the trap, tracing ropes and pulleys, his voice alive with that reckless hope you'd always admired.

You leaned in, squinting at the tangle. "Looks like it could catch a Gronckle. . .or maybe just tangle you up instead," you teased, nudging a loose rope with your index finger. He huffed a laugh, adjusting it with a quick tug.

"Nah, it's foolproof. Well, mostly. Okay, fifty-fifty." He grinned. "But if it works, Dad'll have to notice. The village, too."

"And Astrid?" you added before you could stop, keeping your tone light despite the sting. He flushed, shrugging, and you let it drop, pointing at a jagged edge.

"Better smooth that down—don't want your Night Fury limping away with a grudge."

"Good call," he said, grabbing a file and setting to work. You traded ideas back and forth—tightening bolts, testing the trigger—until the forge grew quiet, the night pressing in around you. Hours slipped away, the fire dwindling to embers behind you both as you sat waiting on the cliff again, and still no raid came. Hiccup's shoulders slumped as he stared out at the dark, star-strewn sky expression disappointed.

"No dragons," he muttered, disappointment lacing his voice. "Thought tonight was it."

You placed a hand on his back, forcing a smile. "They're just waiting to catch you off guard. C'mon, let's call it—Gobber'll have our hides if we're dead on our feet tomorrow." He nodded, reluctant, and you both trudged out, locking the forge behind you.

The village lay silent under a shroud of clouds, and you parted ways—him to his house, you to yours—carrying the weight of an empty home to go back to.

Hours later, the skies still clung tight to the new morning night, heavy and restless, when the first screech tore through Berk. A dragon raid—fierce and sudden. You were already in the forge, having been shaken up by Gobber barging in and yelling at you for help.

Sweat streaking your face as you and Gobber worked in a frantic rhythm, the air thick with sparks and steel. Axes clattered onto the counter, swords hissed against the grindstone, and Vikings roared past the window and above, silhouettes against bursts of flame attempting to steal the sheep.

"Faster, lass!" Gobber bellowed, tossing a freshly sharpened blade to a burly warrior who barely grunted thanks before charging back into the fray.

"These beasts'll have us for breakfast if we don't arm this lot!" You nodded, hands steady despite the chaos, passing out axes like loaves of bread on a feast day. The forge was a storm—metal clanging, fire roaring, and the stench of singed wool and leather as a stray ember caught someone's cloak.

Then the sound of rushing footsteps was heard, and Hiccup stumbled in, all gangly limbs and wild hair. "I've got it—tonight's the night!" he whispers shouts to you. His eyes were bright, desperate, like he'd finally glimpsed his chance.

You glanced up from the axe you were sharpening, catching his gaze, and flashed a quick grin before continuing to sharpen the blade down for a waiting warrior. Gobber spun around; hammer-hand raised mid-swing.

"Oh, nice of ye to join the party!" he bellowed, sarcasm dripping like forge sweat. "I thought ye'd been carried off!"

You snorted, hefting a different weapon, a sword, onto the grindstone, sparks showering your apron. "Aye, by a dragon too picky to eat him? It couldn't stomach all that brawn," you quipped, shooting Hiccup a smirk.

He grinned, shoving your shoulder playfully as he hauled a giant hammer to the wall and moved closer to you, nearly tripping over a pile of scrap metal.

"Who, me?" Hiccup said, puffing out his chest. "Nah, come on—I'm way too muscular for their taste. They wouldn't know what to do with all. . .this." He flexed, all gangly bravado, the gesture so absurdly exaggerated you choked on a laugh, even as you handed off the sword to a Viking who didn't spare you a glance.

Gobber rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Well, they need toothpicks, don't they?" he joked, turning back to the anvil with a grunt.

You smirked, but the high demands of Berk's warriors drowned out any retort—shouts for "More axes!" and "Hurry it up!" pulling you back to the grindstone. Your hands flew, sharpening steel, passing tools, your focus split between the work and Hiccup's whirlwind energy as he darted past you, dodging Gobber's half-hearted swipe to reach the window.

Hiccup wrestled getting to work muttering about angles and tension, a lanky form of determination. You tracked him with quick glances, axe blades singing under your hands, too buried in the rhythm to catch every word of their brewing argument.

Then Hiccup's voice cut through—"I might even get a date"—and your head snapped up, interest flaring with small hope.

Your eyes flickered to him, catching the hopeful tilt of his grin, until a Viking's bellow—"Oi, lass, where's my sword?!"—jerked you back. You muttered an apology, hands scrambling to finish the blade, ears still tuned to their banter.

"If ye want to get out there and fight dragons, ye need to stop all. . .this," Gobber said, waving his hammer-hand at Hiccup in a broad, exasperated arc. You turned, mid-motion, eyebrow raised as you caught the tail end.

Hiccup blinked, incredulous. "But you just pointed to all of me. . ."

"Yes! That's it! Stop being all of you," Gobber shot back, flashing a winning grin that made your stomach twist. You shook your head, jaw tightening, and slammed a pile of sharpened tools onto the counter for the next wave of Vikings.

Gobber's jabs at Hiccup always stung you sideways—too close to the scorn the village heaped on him—and you buried the flare of anger in the work, pounding steel harder than necessary. They kept at it, trading barbs over the forge's roar, while you stayed silent, letting the clatter of metal drown out the urge to snap.

Then a shout shattered the air—"Night Fury!"—and the forge trembled as a shadow-streaked past, unseen but felt, a ripple of dread through the chaos.

Gobber straightened, peg leg thudding. "Mind the fort, ye two! They need me out there!" He wheeled on you both, hammer-hand jabbing.

"Stay. Put. There. . .both of ye. Ye know exactly what I mean." With that, he was gone, charging into the fray with a bellow, leaving the forge quieter but no less alive.

You turned to Hiccup, wide-eyed, the air between you crackling. You knew that look—the glint of a chance he'd been chasing since he first sketched that trap. "You going?" you asked, voice low but steady, a hint of worry.

"Yep!" he shouted, already snagging the trap's frame. "I'll see you soon!" He bolted for the door, a blur of lanky limbs and reckless hope, and you watched him go, heart thudding against your ribs. The forge hummed along with yelling Vikings piling up, embers glowing all around outside, and the Night Fury's sound echoing everything growing chaotic.

"Be careful. . ." You had whispered after he could let you say anything.

You stood alone in the heat, the air thick with soot and the tang of molten steel and turned back to the grindstone. Vikings pounded at the wood framed window, hands outstretched—"Axe, lass!" "Sword, now!"—and you moved quickly, sharpening blades, tossing them out, your arms burning but relentless.

You kept your head down, hands focused on the job at hand, but your mind flickered to Hiccup—out there with that rickety trap, chasing a dream he worked so hard to build. You only prayed he'd be ok.

The raid raged on, a blur of shouts mixed with dragon's roars and flame. You sharpened another sword, passing it back to a warrior whose beard was singed black and strands still burning. The forge was your second battlefield besides the kitchens, and you held it—alone, steady, until a distant crash jolted the air, sharper than the usual din.

You stayed put, as Gobber had ordered, piling blades on the counter before they could take them, ears straining for any hint of Hiccup's fate. The sky lightened, a bruised gray creeping over the horizon as morning began to peak, when a new sound reached you—Stoick's bellow, loud enough to rattle the forge walls, followed by the murmur of a gathering crowd.

Wiping sweat and soot from your face, you stepped outside, the dawn air sharp against your skin. Down the hill, the village had clumped around the wreckage of a torch tower—flames licking its splintered remains. Hiccup stood at the center, shoulders hunched, dwarfed by Stoick's towering frame.

A Monstrous Nightmare roared, pinned by a toppled net, and Stoick wrestled it back, barking orders—"Take it to the pens!"—before rounding on his son. You edged closer, boots crunching on charred earth, catching the tail end of the lecture as the crowd watched, a mix of pity, shame and scorn in their eyes.

". . .Every time you step outside, disaster follows!" Stoick thundered, his voice a hammer strike. "Can you not see that I have bigger problems? Winter's almost here, and I have an entire village to feed!"

Hiccup shifted; voice small but defiant. "Between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding, don't you think?" A few Vikings gasped offended, while you covered your mouth to hide the laugh, but Stoick's glare silenced them.

"This isn't a joke, Hiccup! Why can't you follow the simplest orders?" he demanded, hands clenched.

"I—I can't stop myself," Hiccup stammered, gesturing helplessly. "I see a dragon, and I have to just. . .kill it, you know? It's who I am, Dad. . ."

Stoick pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperation carving lines into his face. "You are many things, Hiccup. But a dragon killer is not one of them." He straightened, turning to the crowd.

"Get back to your homes!" Then, softer, to Hiccup, "Get back to the house." He glanced at Gobber, who'd limped up beside him. "Make sure he gets there. I have his mess to clean up."

Gobber nodded, slapping Hiccup with his good hand. "Aye, come on." The crowd dispersed, muttering, and Hiccup trudged forward, head down, hands shoved into his tunic as he ignored the other teens taunts. You stepped out from the edge, heart twisting at the slump in his frame, and caught up as he passed. Gently, you laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing just enough to say I'm here without words.

He glanced at you, eyes shadowed but softening, a faint, tired smile flickering. "See you later," he murmured, barely audible, and you nodded, letting your hand fall as Gobber steered him toward the house. You watched them go—Hiccup's lanky silhouette beside Gobber's hobbling bulk—until they vanished up the path, the weight of his failure and your quiet worry settling like the ash around you. Lingering a moment, the weight of his slumped shoulders etched into your mind, then turned back to the forge.

The chaos had ebbed, leaving charred wood and bent steel in its wake, and you busied yourself stacking weapons, the rhythm dulling the knot in your chest. But it didn't stop your ears from straining for his footsteps, or your thoughts from circling back to that scream he made down the hill.

By mid-morning, you'd exhaustedly traded the forge for the Great Hall, sleeves rolled up, hands buried in dough like every other day before it. This time with barely any sleep. The air hummed with yeast and mead. The low grumble of Vikings in the hall nursing wounds with pride over their porridge.

Marta barked orders as she always did, her ladle a scepter, but you barely heard her—your mind was still out there, with Hiccup, wondering what mess he'd stumbled into now, and how you wished your shift would end so you can visit him or sleep.

Flour dusted your arms as you kneaded, the familiar pull and press a tether to sanity, when a shadow slipped through the door.

Hiccup—eyes wide, darting like a hare caught in the open. He sidled up, voice a hushed rush. "I hit something," he said, tugging your sleeve with that restless energy you couldn't ignore. "Last night, with the trap—I think it worked. C'mon, you've gotta see." His breath was quick, his grin half-thrill, half-panic, and it left a spark of unease in your gut.

You froze, dough clinging to your fingers, and shot a glance at Marta. Her back was turned, but her glare could burn holes through stone. "Hiccup, I'm up to my elbows here—," you started, but his pleading look cut you off, green eyes bright with the kind of wild hope you'd never learned to say no to. You sighed, wiping your hands on your apron. "Fine. But if Marta skins me, you're baking the next five batches."

"Deal," he said, already halfway out the door. You followed, ducking Marta's wrath and the curious stares of a few Vikings, your boots hitting the dirt as Hiccup led you uphill, past the village's edge. The woods loomed, damp and tangled, and he rambled as you went—words tripping over each other about the trap's "perfect shot," the bola's arc, how he'd heard something crash. You stumbled over roots, swatting branches, and tossed him a dry look.

"Perfect shot, huh? Or did you just knock down another tower and call it a win?" you teased, dodging a low limb. He huffed a laugh, shoving you lightly.

"Come on, really? This is it—the Night Fury. I know it." His voice trembled with conviction, and you didn't argue, just kept pace, the air growing thick with pine, earth and the faint tang of rain. You didn't bother to counter, simply matching his stride while you two made it deeper into the woods.

The woods closed the deeper you got—turning into forest. The damp earth tugging at your boots, your heels throbbing after what felt like hours—though you couldn't be sure. Maybe one, maybe two; time blurred by quickly. You hadn't wanted to disappoint him, not with that fire in his eyes. So, you kept on, even as he groaned every mile, his makeshift map—a mess of 'X' marks scratched into his sketchbook—crumpling in his grip.

He edged closer to you, shoving the map under your nose. "Here—see? It's gotta be near," he muttered, tracing a jagged line with a dirt-smudged finger. You squinted at it, biting back a smirk at the chaos of his art, and shifted your weight, wincing as your heels protested.

"Hmm. . .Hiccup?" you said, slowing to a stop. "You think maybe we should head back and try again tomorrow?"

He sighed deeply, a gust of frustration that seemed to deflate him, and snapped the book shut. "Oh, the gods hate me," he grumbled, voice dripping with self-pity. "Some people lose their knife, or their mug. No, not me." You froze, biting your lip to stifle a snort, watching him trudge on, still ranting to the trees—and you.

"—I only manage to lose an entire dragon," he spat, slapping a broken branch in his path. It whipped back, smacking him square in the face, and that broke you. A burst of laughter erupted, echoing around you both as you doubled over, hands on your knees, the sound of your laugh leaving you silent at its peak from sheer force. Hiccup whirled, cheeks flushed and waved a desperate hand to cover your mouth. "Shh! Shush, shush—quiet!" he pleaded, voice a frantic hiss.

Your smile faded as his urgency hit, and you ducked lower beside him, breath catching. The forest felt quiet suddenly—too still—and a rustle rippled through the underbrush. Hiccup's wide-eyed glance met yours, a shared pulse of adrenaline, and you crept forward together, his crumpled map forgotten in his fist. The trail dipped into a ravine, steep and shadowed, and he slowed, breath catching as he heaves—quickly ducking.

"There," he whispered, pointing with a trembling finger. You peered over the edge, and your stomach twisted. There it was—the Night Fury—bound in a snarl of ropes and bola weights, black scales glinting like wet stone against the earth. Its wings still, pinned, and its chest unmoving.

"Hiccup. . ." you breathed, voice barely a thread. "You actually did it," you murmured, awe tinged with worry, your gaze darting between them. He swallowed, face pale, and you saw it—the crack in his resolve, the flicker of something deeper.

He edged closer, pulling his knife from his belt. You lunged to grab his arm, roots jabbing your knees, but he slipped free, clambering over the ravine's lip before you could stop him. He ducked behind a boulder—the only shield between him and the beast—and you crouched, watching, worry gnawing at you. Your lip stung as you bit it hard, tasting iron, eyes locked on his lanky frame huddled in the dirt.

He peeked out, voice rising, loud and brash. "I—I did it! Ohh, this. . .this fixes everything! Yes!" He straightened, chest puffed, and you rose too, both of you bold with the certainty the dragon was dead—its stillness a grim trophy. "I have brought down this mighty beast!" he crowed, stepping forward to plant a foot on its side, triumphant.

Then the Night Fury twitched—a shudder of muscle under scales—and Hiccup froze, the blade shaking in his grip. You stumbled forward, the air thick with earth and the beast's ragged breaths, its green eyes snapping open to bore into his. Very much alive.

This is Chapter 1 to this Hiccup series -> Masterlist here. Previous Chapter : Next Chapter

Gifs/edits, dividers + template credit to #uservampyr my co-writer + beta reader ♡

#chapter 1 of maelstrom #hiccup haddock #httyd hiccup #hiccup and toothless #hiccup how to train your dragon #hiccup x reader #hiccup fanfic #httyd fanfic #httyd x reader #toothless #httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccup haddock x reader #dragons #race to the edge #httyd fandom

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lily-bisque · 1 month ago

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part 2 — w.d.y.w.f.m? ៹ series m.list

jealousy wasn’t a good look on your olderbrothersbestfriend!sukuna.

it's been about two weeks since the kitchen incident and you spent way too many nights crying over it until the anger of it all took over.

like what an asshole?

how could he say to your face that you weren’t worth the trouble after grinding his cock against you?

you couldn’t even be embarrassed about it at this point—sukuna was too enraging for you to be ashamed.

truthfully, you didn’t want to dwell on it anymore. he was in the past, a late night bad decision, and truly just a man lacking any sort of heart.

so, you were spending this friday night out with your friends for drinks at the most popular club talked about on campus.

a strappy, slip dress that glistened in the neon dance floor lights hugged your body in all the right places as you twisted and turned, your hands gliding over every curve and running through your hair.

shoko wanted to introduce you to a friend of hers, and here he was, admiring your graceful body as he danced right behind you.

he didn’t dare touch you, didn’t dare disturb the flow you’d found yourself in. you could feel his eyes locking onto you, admiring the careful gyrations of your hips, but it didn’t matter.

you hadn’t felt so free in so long that it didn’t matter that you had an audience.

turning around, you wrapped your hands around the guy's shoulders and locked eyes with him, giving him an unspoken entry to touch you.

his palms found themselves resting above your hips, a heated glint in his eyes as he swayed your actions gently.

he wasn’t even making eye contact with you at this point, lost in your entrancing figure. instances like these reminded you that most men are simply driven by their lustful instincts and barely gave your merit a shot.

but in this moment, that was more than hypocritical because you honestly couldn’t recall his name.

you tossed your head back, fluttering your lashes shut as the neon lights washed over you, indulging in this moment, drunk on joy and tipsy on a couple shots of vodka.

until it was starkly interrupted.

shuffling and cursing echoed in your ears before those hands that molded against your figure, the hair you felt under your finger pads and between your digits, vanished.

your eyes shot open, peering up to see…

“sukuna?”

your date made his way out nervously, scanning the pink-haired man’s beast-like figure before disappearing.

the man before you grunted, sliding his hands to your waist and making himself… comfortable. the seam of his lip curled into a grin as he cocked his brow, eyes dancing along your outfit.

“no fucking way,” you breathed out in awe, bewildered at the unbelievably audacious man.

“way,” he coolly replied, tugging your waist closer to him until your hands came down on his chest with a hard smack.

in a flash, you began to see burning hot red, every inch of your body firing up in a fit of pure rage, gritting your teeth so hard you feared you could crack a tooth.

“get your fucking hands off me, prick,” you spat with an emphasis, lifting your heel to step straight on his dress shoe and stomp right off of the dance floor.

he bent over with a groan, eyes widening in shock as everyone on the club floor stilled for a moment to see the display.

how dare he? after your last interaction, how fucking dare he put his hands on you like nothing happened? like he hadn’t disrespected you and left you after using you like a slab of meat in your own kitchen.

oh hell no. he doesn’t deserve a sliver of your time, nonetheless the pleasure of putting his hands on you.

you found yourself slipping past the bar where your date and shoko glanced at you, then at each other, just to see a mess of pink hair follow you out.

in the corridor to the restrooms as you hurried for some solace, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, a husky voice calling out your name.

spinning around, you shot your most piercing glare at sukuna, disgust and pure rage radiating off of you that had him nearly back away.

“what the fuck do you want from me?” your voice came out ice cold, pulling your hand from his firm grip like he burned you.

his crimson orbs flickered all over you, reading your body language and internally cringing. had he really fucked up that bad?

sukuna knew he was dumb, oblivious towards what girls insinuated to. he preferred bluntness—direct explanations to things. so romance was never really in his cards as such a carefree guy.

and it made sense. after all, you were his best friend's little sister. in what world did it make sense for him to go after you? to ignore the respect he held for your brother and especially for you by giving into his desires.

but for some reason, he hadn’t been able to get you out of his head ever since that night in the kitchen.

he’d held back for quite some time, and he still kicked himself over even putting his hands on you in the kitchen and destroying whatever boundary he’d set long ago.

and tonight, seeing some lanky sleaze rub his hands over you when he had no idea how to worship you like sukuna knew he really could, only pissed him off. had him nearly crush the shot glass he held before slamming it down and moving to sweep you off of your feet. to save you.

but seeing you this pissed off, god, sukuna knew he’d fucked things up.

“i…” sukuna had never been good with words. but stuttering? fuck, this was a new low for him.

“spit it out or i’m leaving,” you spoke through gritted teeth.

his eyes flickered between your own, before he dragged a hand down his face. “listen. i fucked up last time, alright? what do you want me to say?”

your eyes widened, absolutely dumbfounded at his response as mirth washed over your face. “oh, you’re fucking unbeliev-“

before you could finish your sentence, sukuna leaned down and crashed his lips against yours.

your heart stammered, feeling yourself damn near sober up at the sudden action, his mouth slotting against yours and moving with a heated tenacity.

frozen still, his hands cupped your cheeks and pushed you back against the corridor wall, running his hands over your ears and keeping you steady as he worked his tongue into your mouth, a whimper leaving your lips.

your hands found themselves trembling, then clutching his dress shirt for stability as your lashes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by his entire presence boring down onto yours.

he grinned slyly against your lips, pride coursing through his veins at your reaction, tilting your head back and running his tongue against your lower lip.

“missed this,” he groaned against you, bringing a hand to squeeze your hip.

you whined in response, eyes nearly glossing over in pure lust, before you realized exactly where you were.

releasing your fists that balled against his sleeves, you used your palms to shove his chest up and away from you.

taken aback, sukuna stared down at you, open mouthed and eyes wide, disappointed at the absence of feeling your plush lips against his own. “what’s wrong?”

“you!” you immediately yelled, both of you stunned by the sudden outburst. you stiffened, eyes shut and hands straight as a log by your sides. “you’re what’s wrong!”

despite your efforts to hold a strong front, you could feel tears welling in your eyes. anger, shame, embarrassment—it was all simmering to the surface and now nearly spilling over.

sukuna had no idea what to say. all he could do was watch as you went through five stages of grief.

“i… can’t do this with you anymore,” you whimpered out, eyes opening and teary as you gazed up at him.

at that moment, sukuna felt something in his chest wrench, something he hadn’t felt before. he wanted to reach out, kiss those tears away, but instead, his fists balled by his side.

“do what? what is so hard?”

“ugh!” you yelled out, staring at the ceiling and wiping your eyes with your forearms, accidentally smearing your mascara. oh, just great. “just leave me alone, sukuna,” you pleaded, your body warm and resigned from the entire incident.

you had enough.

before he had a chance to reply, you headed back to the bar where your friends awaited you, digging through your purse for a napkin and your compact to fix the mess on your face.

“what the hell was that about? are you okay?” shoko asked, tequila shot in hand as you plopped down. you grabbed one of her shots and tossed it back, hissing at the cloyingly sweet burn.

“nothing worth talking about.”

៹ next part

taglist (open): @poopooindamouf @yuaisen @ariskywlkr

#✦ bisque tracklist #your older brother’s best friend #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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wordsofwhimsy · 2 months ago

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┗⊱ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒙 𝑮𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 ⊰┛

Pairing: Mohawk!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Jealousy, post-break up warfare, really just comedic bullshit

Word Count: 2,786

Synopsis: An AU where the Invincible Wars didn’t go down the way we know it (I talked about this in a anon message I got earlier). Angstrom’s dimensional rift powers have been harnessed to allow for the variants to freely travel between universes, resulting in a friend group of Mohawk, Shiesty, Lensless, and You. Only, you & Mohawk (referred to in this fic simply as Mark for better reading) used to be a couple. Now you’re not. And being the petty little shits you both are, it’s become your mission to make the other as jealous as possible.

Inspiration: Y’all seen that episode of Friends? “The One With Joey's New Girlfriend”? Yeah, 100% inspired by that

a/n: nobody talk to me about the southern belle series – i tried for the better half of the day to work on the next chapter and it just aint coming to me right now. so i did this instead lmao

The conversation had derailed fast—typical for these three.

“I’m just saying,” Shiesty was arguing, waving his hands like a conspiracy theorist with bad posture, “if someone offered me a billion dollars to live in a house with 100 raccoons for a year, I’d do it. Easy.”

“Only if I get to train them,” Lensless said, picking apart a coaster with surgical focus. “Like little soldiers. Giv e ‘em knives.”

Mark sipped his drink, unbothered. “You’re both idiots.”

“I’d teach mine to steal identities,” Lensless continued, eyes unblinking. “Fake passports. Crypto scams. Maybe throw a coup.”

“Okay, what the fuck,” Mark muttered.

Shiesty cackled. “You see this, right? He’s unwell. Bro’s one bad day from mailing fingers to politicians.”

Lensless leaned in slowly. “You think I haven’t?”

Mark opened his mouth to retort—but the bar’s door opened, and he could smell you before he even heard you.

Laughter. Loud. Practically choreographed. You walked in, clinging to the arm of a guy who looked like he’d been carved from marble and then dropped on his head as a child.

He had the kind of jawline sculpted by Instagram filters and the emotional depth of a kiddie pool. His shirt was too tight, his smile too wide, and your laugh? It was weapon-grade.

You leaned into him, tossing your head back like Brad the Beefcake had just delivered a stand-up special. He hadn’t. He’d probably just pointed to a stool and called it a “sittin’ thing.”

Shiesty nearly spit out his drink. “Yo.”

Lensless didn’t blink, eyes wide and glowing with what looked like excitement. “Ohhh shit.”

Mark squinted. “What?”

Lensless didn’t even look away. “Not your ex using a human thirst trap to turn your soul into confetti.”

Mark stared, scoffing. “No she’s not.”

Shiesty leaned in. “Bro. That laugh had syllables.”

“She hasn’t laughed like that since before the breakup. She’s putting extra air in it,” added Lensless.

Shiesty continued, grin widening. “This is so obviously for you. You’re the target. She’s a sniper. And Meat Slab’s the bullet.”

Mark clenched his jaw. “I don’t care.”

Lensless turned to him slowly. “Your pupils dilated. Classic rage-lust. You’re about three seconds away from violence or poetry.”

Mark looked away sharply. “Shut up.”

And then you saw them.

Your eyes locked on Mark’s for a fraction of a second before you smile, dangerously so. You tugged Brad along like an accessory, walking straight up to the booth like this was all completely unplanned.

“Heyyy, guys!” you said brightly, voice syrupy-sweet. “Didn’t expect to see everyone here tonight.”

Shiesty bit his lip, trying not to laugh. “Wow. Look who it is.”

Lensless sat perfectly still, eyes like voids. “Hiii [y/n],” he said with the kind of calm that came right before the Joker set a hospital on fire.

Mark’s tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth. “You brought... someone.”

You grinned up at Brad. “This is Brad. Isn’t he so cute?”

Brad, bless his golden-retriever heart, beamed like he’d just been handed a trophy. “Yo, what’s up, dudes.”

Lensless leaned forward. “Do you know what a war crime is, Brad?”

Brad blinked. “Huh?”

Mark cleared his throat loudly. “So. This is what you’re into now?”

You blinked innocently. “What, muscles? Positivity? Unwavering support?”

Shiesty whispered, “This is incredible.”

Lensless added, “Her energy is diabolical. I respect it.”

Mark’s nostrils flared. “Must be a real deep connection you two got.”

“Oh, it is,” you said, clinging tighter to Brad’s arm. “We talk about everything. Like, the other day? We had this whole conversation about—what was it, babe?”

“If sharks have bones, dude.”

You smiled at Mark like you’d just been handed a win.

He stared.

Lensless took a sip of his drink. “This is art.”

You could feel it—Mark was already on edge. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched under the table, and that signature cocky tilt in his mouth was a little too strained to be real. Victory? Within reach.

So you did what any emotionally stable, totally mature person would do.

You ramped it up.

You leaned into Brad like he was the most fascinating man on Earth, giggling as he told some story about arm day and protein timing like it was high philosophy. He didn’t notice that no one was laughing with him—no one except you.

“—and then I said, bro, you can’t max out on incline if you’re skipping legs. That’s, like, disrespectful to the grind, y’know?”

You placed a hand on his bicep, practically swooning. “Oh my god, you’re so smart.”

Lensless slowly turned his head to look at Mark. “That's craaazy.”

“Fuckin' insane...” Mark grumbled.

Shiesty was practically vibrating with joy. Mark made the grave mistake of glancing at you again.

You were now feeding Brad a fry, with a little “open wide!” and everything.

Mark blinked. Once. Twice.

That was it.

You were halfway through feeding Brad another fry—dramatically, of course—when Mark suddenly sat up straighter, like a terrible idea had just hatched in real time.

“You know what?” he said, voice loud, casual, and so clearly forced you should’ve known better. “I’ve actually got somewhere to be.”

You blinked, half-laughing. “Since when do you make plans?”

Mark shrugged like the smug bastard he was. “Since I started seeing someone who actually respects my time.”

That got the table quiet.

Shiesty’s brow arched high. “Wait—hold up. You’re seeing someone?”

Lensless blinked. “Are you legally allowed to?”

Mark didn’t flinch. “Yup. Real grown woman. Hot. Smart. Mature.”

Your laugh was sharp. “What, like someone your mom’s age?”

He shrugged, sipping his drink with exaggerated calm. “Not quite. But she has real furniture. Leather-bound books. A decanter, even.”

Shiesty leaned in with undisguised eagerness. “Yo... are you dating a cougar?”

Lensless, eyes gleaming with intrigue, pipped in, “This is so much better than the sad Mark spiral I was expecting.”

You tried to play it cool—but your expression faltered. “Oh? What’s her name?”

Mark hesitated for half a second. Too long. “...Cassandra.”

Shiesty let out a low whistle. “Cassandra? Damn. That sounds rich.”

Mark nodded solemnly. “She’s very... cultured. Taught me about wine pairings. And... zoning permits.”

Lensless was weirdly impressed. “That’s the sexiest sentence you’ve ever said.”

You raised an eyebrow, but your heart was already racing. Mark? With a wine-knowing, real-furniture-owning, Cassandra?

“She sounds... older,” you said, trying to laugh. “What, she pick you up in a town car?”

Mark didn’t even blink. “She drives a vintage Jaguar.”

Shiesty slammed his palm on the table. “OH HE’S UP. HE’S WINNING.”

Lensless narrowed his eyes. “I feel like he's lying... yet I believe him.”

You chewed your lip, trying not to frown. “So what is this, like... a thing?”

Mark smirked. “Maybe. She likes my... edge. Says I remind her of her ex-husband in his ‘dangerous phase.’”

Lensless clapped. “I am so invested in this relationship.”

Shiesty laughed until he wheezed. “Bro I wanna meet her. Like tonight. Bring her here.”

Mark stood up smoothly, grabbing his jacket with just enough flair. “Sorry, boys. And lady,” he added with a cocky glance your way. “Tonight’s private. Grown folks only.”

He walked off with an air of confidence that definitely left your stinging.

The moment he was gone, the booth exploded.

Lensless leaned in like a gossip gremlin. “Yo. Is it just me or did he just level up?”

“He hit us with mature Mark energy. I didn’t think that existed,” Shiesty said.

You didn’t respond right away.

Because you were still sitting there, your brain reeling at the idea of Mark—with all his sarcasm, his recklessness, his “I’ve got issues but I look good doing it” energy—suddenly being wined and dined by some refined older woman named Cassandra. Someone with class. Elegance. Taste.

And worst of all... she sounded real.

—

The tiny bell over the door jingled as Mark stepped inside, immediately hit with the warm scent of lavender and mothballs. The shop looked like it hadn’t changed since the Reagan administration—dusty lace curtains, cracked linoleum floor, a half-knitted sweater draped over the counter next to a sewing machine that looked like it had survived several wars.

“Marky, sweetheart!” Cassandra called from the back, bustling in with pins clutched between her teeth and a thimble still on one finger. “I just finished reinforcing the midsection. You must’ve taken a real beating last week!”

Mark rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing crazy... alien invasion. Usual shit."

“Well you didn’t die, so I’d say that’s a win,” she said brightly, waddling over to hand him a neatly folded navy and black suit.

He muttered a thanks, ready to leave, pride semi-intact, then—

JINGLE.

The door opened again.

Mark turned. Froze.

Lensless stood in the doorway, half-silhouetted by the outside light. Motionless. Eyes wide.

“...No,” Lensless said softly.

Mark’s grip tightened on the suit.

Lensless stepped inside slowly, blinking like he was hallucinating. “When you said Cassandra... when you said older woman, refined, leather-bound books, hot wine aunt energy—”

Cassandra popped up behind the counter, fluffing her knitting. “Hi, honey!”

Lensless howled.

Like, doubled over. Cackling. He actually staggered back into a rack of retired capes and slid down it like a man being exorcised.

“THIS is Cassandra?!” he gasped between bursts of laughter. “The sophisticated mystery woman?! The one with the Jaguar?!”

“She’s cool,” Mark growled, voice taut with humiliation. “And she’s helped me more than anyone in my life—”

“DID SHE FEED YOU PEPPERMINTS IN HER BUICK?!”

“YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH.”

Lensless was crying now, full breakdown mode. “I thought she was gonna be in, like, stilettos. Maybe a dangerous past. A tragic accent.”

“She’s got arthritis and a cat named Marvin,” Cassandra added cheerfully, not understanding the situation in the slightest.

Mark slammed his suit down on the counter. “Lensless, if you breathe a word of this—”

“Or what? You’ll threaten me with Cassandra’s knitting needles?” Lensless squealed, clutching his stomach. “What are you gonna do, stitch me a strongly-worded letter?”

Mark stepped forward, radiating actual murder. “I will break your jaw, unhinge it, and feed you your own boot.”

Lensless was wheezing. “You gonna cry into one of her little embroidered doilies first?”

Mark’s eye twitched. He turned to Cassandra, who was just humming and bagging the suit in a plastic wrap like none of this was happening.

“I’m leaving,” he muttered. “I’m not doing this with him.”

“Don’t forget your mints, kiddo!” she called sweetly as he stormed past.

“I’M NOT TAKING THE MINTS.”

Lensless called after him, still cracking up, “Aww take your peppermints kiddo!”

The door slammed behind Mark like the punchline of a cosmic joke.

Lensless wiped his face, still chuckling as he stepped up to the counter. Cassandra held out his suit.

“You boys have so much fun,” she said, eyes twinkling.

He took it, still smirking. “Oh Cassandra. I’m gonna ruin his life.”

Back at the bar…

You were still sat at the booth, swirling your drink with a straw that was starting to look suspiciously chewed on, trying really hard not to think about the words "vintage Jaguar."

Brad—the human tank you were proudly draped over not ten minutes ago—was suddenly glancing at the clock on his phone with intense confusion.

“Yo babe, I gotta dip,” he said, standing up abruptly.

You blinked. “What? Why?”

He adjusted his watch (which may or may not have been fake). “Gym closes in thirty-five and I still gotta blend my creatine.”

You blinked again. “You… brought protein powder to the bar?”

He looked at you like you were the dumb one. “It’s in the car.”

Then—with no kiss, no goodbye—he fist-bumped the waitress and strolled out the door, calling “later dudes” over his shoulder like you weren’t even there.

You sat in stunned silence for a second.

Finally you turned slowly to Shiesty, who was just sipping his drink with a kind of giddy concern.

You started rifling through your purse. Lip gloss. Compact. A key you didn’t recognize.

“Ugh,” you muttered. “I think he’s stealing from me.”

Shiesty blinked. “Why would you—”

You pulled out your wallet, flung it open—and held it out dramatically. It was empty.

“BECAUSE HE’S STEALING FROM ME.”

Shiesty lost it.

“YO—WHAT?!”

You held up the limp little wallet like it was Exhibit A in a trial you were about to win with righteous fury. “I literally had a twenty in here before he ordered that third vodka cranberry! He said he had Apple Pay!”

Shiesty wheezed, leaning back in the booth. “Yooo, this man’s robbing you in real time.”

“I BROUGHT HIM HERE TO MAKE MY EX JEALOUS, NOT TO FUND HIS PRE-WORKOUT HABIT!”

Shiesty was crying, dabbing his eyes with a napkin. “Oh my god, he didn’t even pretend to be a good guy.”

You tossed your wallet back in your purse, seething. “I’m so mad and I can’t even say anything or it looks like I lost.”

Shiesty grinned. “You did lose. You lost a boyfriend and twenty bucks.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No. I just need to pivot.”

“Pivot into what? Dating someone who uses full sentences?”

“Exactly. I need someone hotter. Smarter. Not a financial risk.”

Shiesty leaned back, real cool-like, ran a hand through his hair, and gave you the worst smolder you’d ever seen.

“Well then, babe,” he said, dropping his voice into a low, dramatic purr, “look no further. I’ve got everything you need—” he gave a little finger-gun flourish, “—right here.”

You blinked at him. Held the stare for a beat. And then burst out laughing.

You reached out, pulled him into a warm, full-bodied hug like he’d just delivered the joke of the century. “God, you’re stupid,” you giggled into his shoulder. “Thanks. I needed that.”

He blinked. “Wait—”

You pulled back, already slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I gotta go,” you sighed, digging around for your keys. “My dog’s been alone all day, she’s probably emotionally damaged by now.”

Shiesty stood there, hands still half-raised from the hug.

“…You have a dog?”

You gave him a cheery wave. “Bye, love you!”

The door swung shut behind you with a jingle.

Shiesty just stood there, staring at your empty seat. “…I was being serious.” He picked up your abandoned straw wrapper. Stared at it. Sighed. “Man. I got friend-hugged mid-rizz.”

Not 10 minutes later the door swung open again, bell jingling overhead.

Mark walked in, doing his best impression of someone not spiraling.

Strip of hair slightly windswept. Jacket crooked. Wrinkles in his shirt that definitely weren’t there before.

He spotted Shiesty alone in the booth.

“…Where’d everyone go?” Mark asked, trying to sound casual.

Shiesty didn’t look up from his drink. “Brad robbed her.”

Mark blinked. “I—what?”

Shiesty finally looked up. “The himbo? Turns out he’s not just brainless—he’s a petty thief too.”

Mark leaned back, smug satisfaction creeping in. “Wow. Sad. Tragic. Who could’ve guessed that dipshit was a bad investment?”

Shiesty finally looked at him. “I know right? I even tried to offer her an upgrade.”

Mark blinked. “...What?”

Shiesty shrugged, real casual. “Y’know. Threw my hat in the ring. Told her I had everything she needed. Right here.” He gestured to himself.

Mark stared.

A vein in his temple twitched.

“Are you—are you serious right now?” he snapped. “You hit on her?”

“Relax,” Shiesty drawled, unbothered. “It wasn’t like I proposed. I just—y’know—presented the option.”

“You presented the option?” Mark repeated, incredulous. “She’s not ordering cable packages—”

“Bro—chill.”

“Chill? I swear I will rip your spine—”

Shiesty held up a hand. “Bro, calm down. She laughed. Like, hard. Pulled me into a hug and hit me with ‘thanks! needed that.’ Like the very idea of me was a damn joke to her.”

Mark stopped. Paused. Shoulders visibly relaxed. “Oh,” he breathed, blinking slowly. “She laughed, huh?”

Shiesty nodded. “Immediate friend-zone. Real efficient.”

Mark sat back, smugness returning like a tide. “Yeah. Well. Of course she did.”

Shiesty sipped again. “She called me stupid.”

Mark’s smirk widened. “She’s always had good judgment.” There was a beat of silence before Shiesty started up again.

“…But like, is it just me,” he said, slowly tilting his head, “or did her ass go dumb in those jeans?”

Mark didn’t even hesitate. Smirked. “Her ass always goes retarded."

They clinked their glasses in solemn agreement.

“Truly criminal,” Shiesty muttered.

Mark shook his head. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

#invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson fanfic #mohawk mark #variant mark grayson #mohawk mark x reader #variant mark x reader

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ghoularaki · 3 months ago

Text

baby's breath | 21

↠ summary: Merely by coincidence, Erwin, your father's former friend had crossed paths with you again after nearly a decade. He offered solace once finding out you were struggling with not just school, but your home life as well. His home he shared with another one of your father's friends, Levi, became a sanctuary. Though, the more you came over for study sessions, the more they wiggled themselves into your private life. And like baby's breath, they weeded themselves in so deep you couldn't uproot them.

↠ word count: 6,055

↠ pairing: levi ackerman x reader x erwin smith

↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, modern au, DARK CONTENT, yandere, daddy kink, forced infantilism, pet play, age gap, emotional manipulation. NSFW (heavy noncon, drugging/aphrodisiac, mindbreak, bondage, anal, voyeurism/exhibitionism, fingering, creampies, overstimulation, miche's inhuman refractory period)

A knock on the door had you all snapping your attention to the front door.

The days have blended together, you only knew it must have been the weekend because Erwin hasn’t left. Tension clung to all three of you. Anticipation was apparent on Erwin as well as Levi’s dread. Whatever they agreed upon that night, they were on opposing sides and you were left in the middle.

The wounds on your ass were almost healed. It didn’t hurt to sit anymore. The bruising didn’t ache and your muscles were no long tender. The main problem was the cuts that were scabbed over, but one wrong shift could reopen them with ease.

Today, oddly enough, you all sat on the couch. Levi kept his distance and Erwin had you sitting on his lap on his recliner. You had attempted to struggle, but Levi snapped you this look that screamed don’t make this worse for yourself. So you gritted your teeth, Erwin sat you sideways with his large hand rubbing up and down your outer thigh. Your skin crawled at the touch.

A thin, flimsy veil of peace blanketed you all. No one talked as the TV raged on, some stupid news channel Erwin enjoyed. The knocked ripped that veil wide open to reveal the truth. Erwin and Levi whipped their heads to each other.

They weren’t expecting visitors so soon.

Levi slowly got up and slunk over to the window. From the sliver of curtain he opened, you saw the neighbor standing there. The old man seemed to be uncomfortable.

Like last time, you expected Levi to open the door and Erwin clamp a hand over your mouth to keep you silent, but Levi waltzed over to you. Silently, Levi grabbed you and through you over his shoulder. A small oof left you as it dug into your stomach.

Turning the corner, Levi took you down the hall where the laundry room is. In the distance, you heard Erwin greet the old man. Adjacent to the laundry room was a door you never really noticed. Flinging it open, a small closet with various cleaning products greeted your nose. Dropping you down on your feet, Levi shoved you inside.

“Keep quiet,” His stare and tone was icy.

You were ready to protest, but he shut the door on you. Annoyed as darkness swarmed you, a lock clicking had you frantically clutch the knob. Twisting it over and over only confirmed he locked you inside. You were tempted to kick the slab of wood, though Levi seemed to be in a no bullshit mood.

Stuck in the small, dim closet, you were surprisingly okay. No fear enveloped you. Maybe it was because you weren’t restrained or it was Levi who locked you inside. Either way, you only felt relief this wasn’t added to the long list of things you would definitely need to work out with a therapist when you escape.

Pressing your ear to the door, he walked down the hall and back to what you assumed was the living room. A faint conversation could be heard. They invited the old man inside? Shifting yourself, you tried to see if you could hear better at a different angle. It was all for naught.

The three men carried on, only one of them not knowing the others were harboring a woman they kidnapped. Your survival instincts begged you to kick up a fuss, but what could an elderly man do against two men in their prime? Sure if they—well, Levi—had to resort to killing the neighbor to keep him silent, it would raise some suspicions. But would it be traced back to them? And to be frank, you weren’t going to sacrifice the lives of others for the sake of your freedom.

Many would call you a coward or weak, but you couldn’t help thinking of the nurse at the hospital. She could have been your out, same with the old man, but Levi was fast and ruthless. The second he sniffed you snitching, their throats would be cut or they would be beaten to a pulp. So you stayed silent. It’s okay you will make it out on your own, or at least you can only hope.

Life just had other plans for you, though. Stepping one foot backwards to get into a more comfortable position, you hit what you think is a dustpan that had you clambering to not fall. Clutching blindly into the air, you slipped forward and audibly smacked against the door.

The house falls silent.

You hold your breath. Clenching your eyes closed, the intrusive thoughts ran rapid. You can vividly visualize Levi slinging an arm around the old man’s throat and squeeze so tight his eyes almost pop out of his head. Clutching his head, he snapped the poor neighbor’s neck with such ease. Then both Erwin and Levi will storm down the hall. Levi would pry you away from the closet. Maybe this will be it and they will slaughter you as well. Finally realize you are more trouble than you are worth. Then they will bury your body in the backyard and when people question the upturned earth, they will reply they are fixing their septic tank. Or maybe they are building a pool, or they want to take up gardening. Your rotting corpse would make good fertilizer.

The old man’s gruff laugh ripped you from your spiraling thoughts. Crashing down from the adrenaline, you collapsed onto the floor. More shuffling resonated. The front door creaked open. A few more words were exchanged and then it shut with a firm bang.

Soft footsteps mosied over to the closet. You knew it was Levi before he even unlocked the door. Your left eye squinted as the hallway and sunlight poured in. Levi looked somewhat confused as to why you were on the ground. His eyes shifted to your foot still on the dustpan.

“You broke my dustpan.”

Looking down, in your clumsy fumble, you snapped it the side clean off. Grumbling, you responded, “I didn’t mean to.”

He hummed while looking off the the side, he continued, “Is that what this ruckus was about?”

You were going to respond, but he reached down and clutched on your upper arm. Hauling you upwards, he dragged you back into the living. Erwin marched out of the mudroom, looking displeased.

“She fell,” Levi barked, not letting you go.

“How does that matter, Levi,” Erwin sauntered over closer, almost like he's studying him.

“She didn’t do it on purpose.”

You whipped your head to Levi and gaped at him. Why was he defending you now?

“Just because it was an accident now, doesn’t mean it will be in the future.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

Erwin scowled for a moment, before slipping on a cold mask, “Last time I checked, you wanted this, too. Don’t tell me, have you really grown soft?”

Levi clicked his tongue and pushed you away from him. You stumbled a few steps before catching yourself. Landing closer to Erwin you stared up at him. He regarded you for a moment before focusing back on Levi.

“Don’t come crying to me when this one breaks, too. I won’t be there to pick up the pieces. I’m done, Erwin.”

At that, Levi stormed off further into the house. Scared at what he meant about you breaking too, you backed up from Erwin.

Erwin reached out and pet your hair, not caring that you flinched. “Don’t worry, princess, he will come around. Sometimes he gets like this. When things don’t go his way, he gets even brattier than you.” Those bright blues squinted as he gave a small chuckle. He said it like it was a joke between you two, but you could only curl in on yourself. Dread sat heavy in your bones.

Erwin was a lot more codependent on Levi than he liked to admit. After watching TV for about a couple hours, did Erwin cave first and went to find Levi. By now, the sun had set. You didn’t keep track of how long those two conversed as you blankly watched the screen. As small as it was, it’s time like these made you having your own phone. You hated cable and wanted something else to entertain yourself with. A frustrating ache built up, the type that makes your skin itch.

A firm knock startled you. Though the rapping didn’t came from the front porch. It sounded like on the other side of the house. You knew it wasn’t from the basement, that was too close.

Standing up, cautious, you were about to round the couch when Erwin and Levi emerged from upstairs. Levi walked down the hall to as Erwin kept going to straight past your old bedroom. Both were so lax despite the possible guest.

“Levi?” You called, confused.

“Help me make some tea.”

Unable to argue you followed him into the kitchen. He pointed for you to sit at the island and you obeyed. Another deep voice paired with Erwin’s rang through the house. Both their lumbering footsteps approached. Your heart raced as you watched the opening of the kitchen.

Both men emerged and your muscles locked, ready to run. The other man beside Erwin was somehow larger than him. He was massive, standing about an inch taller than Erwin with broader shoulders. He easily took over the space around him. He stayed silent as Erwin spoke.

Guiding his guest into the living room, the strange man glanced at you for a brief moment. Those haunting hazel eyes sent a chill down your spine. You couldn’t help feeling like a rabbit about to be torn into. Besides that, neither men acknowledge you.

Your fingers dug into wood of the stool. Despite asking you to help, Levi didn’t beckon you over. He let you sit as he glided across the kitchen to brew the tiny tea leaves. Standing on his tip-toes, he grabbed two tea cups with saucers along with a metal tray. The clanking of porcelain and metal grated your ears.

Out the corner of your eye, you observed Erwin and the guest. The guest had his arms crossed, pushing his pecs upwards. His biceps bulged in his grey long sleeve. Erwin spoke to him and he nodded along, but other than that he didn’t respond. Whatever Erwin said sounded underwater. Despite trying your best, you couldn’t focus on the words.

The kettle whistling had you flinch back so hard, your spine banged against the corner. Levi moved it off the burner. Pivoting, he brought his focus back to you as he waited for it to cool. You were obviously hyperventilating, your body vibrated with the need to take flight.

Levi subtly shook his head. He knew that look, you were going to spring out of your chair and do something you would later regret. Digging your nails further into the stool, you forced yourself to stay.

Erwin cleared his throat. Shifting his eyes to the large man, Levi perked up like he was given a command. Who's really the dog here? Following his line of sight, Erwin had nodded his head upwards. Levi went back to the kettle and sat it on the tray.

Lifting it up with two hands, he barked, “Come.”

Not wanting to be alone with both Erwin and the stranger, you hopped off the chair and stumbled after Levi. You followed so close you almost stepped on his heels. The strange man glimpsed at you again this time a tiny smile tilted his lips upwards. You squeezed your hands into fists to resist the urge to clutch onto Levi’s shirt.

Down the hall and to the left, Levi guided you upstairs. With such poise, none of the cups or kettle shifted on the tray. Tottling along, he walked down the hall to the door that sat at the end.

“Open the door.”

Shuffling past him, you opened the mysterious door that piqued your curiosity last week. Upon entering the room, in the corner was in home bar. There was a shelf embedded into the wall that had various whiskys, wines and rums stacked together. Midway was a small counter against the wall that had a built in mini fridge under it. Bracketing it was two cabinets.

Crossing further into the room, a window sat next to the bar with its ruby red curtain shut. And next to that was a bookshelf lined from ground to ceiling with many books of different genres. Levi went into the center of the room and here you realized it was L-shaped. Against the right side of room was more bookshelves along with two seats of dark woven fabric with a circle table in the middle. There, Levi place the tray down.

Parallel to the chairs was a couch with a side table that sat at the protruding corner of the L. The couch was a deep velvet with intricate wood backing. It was a wide couch pushed up against the wall. Tucked in the corner by the couch was a lamp that cascaded a warm, dim light.

Levi grabbed your shoulders and forced you to sit on the very comfortable couch. Grabbing the tea cup on the left in the strange way he does, he sat beside you.

He swirled your cup before handing it to you, “Drink it all.”

Hesitantly, you reached for it and hugged it between your palms. Levi stared down, waiting for you to listen. Biting the corner of your lip, you bring it to your nose and stared at it. Nothing seemed wrong with it. Wanting something to sooth you, you downed the tea all in one go. You winced at the burn from the scolding liquid. Smacking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, your face pinched at the odd aftertaste.

It settled weird in your stomach. “What was that?”

Levi didn’t answer your question. He hung over you to reach for the side table. You leaned back as he hovered. Opening the drawer, he snapped his gaze to regard you for a moment. His steel eyes were lined with purple dark circles that only called more attention to his piercing glare. You were like a butterfly pinned to a cork board.

Slamming the drawer, he grabbed what he needed with one hand. Sit back, you had room to breathe once more. You breath picked up at the proximity. Your chest heaved, you almost felt too warm for your clothes.

Glancing down, held in Levi’s grasp was a leather harness, that forsaken bone gag and the mittens.

“What’s going on?” You asked both about the restraints and as the heat built in your stomach. Unconsciously, your thighs rubbed together to seek relief. Tears pricked your waterline.

“It’s better if you don’t know. Just for once, fucking behave.”

Forcing yourself up, you scooted closer to Levi and grabbed his thighs. Your body shook as you resisted the urge to hump the cushions beneath you. “What did you do to me?”

Levi clutched your chin and forced eye contact, “It will ease the pain.”

More heavy, pitchy exhales tumbled out your mouth. His touch burned and yet soothed the ache. Shaking your head, you tried to rip his grip off you to gain a clearer mind. Though as he let you go, you didn’t stop clutching onto his wrist.

“Did you drug me?” You seethed.

He avoided your question. “It’s only natural for bitches to go into heat, though I think it’s past the season.”

“T-that’s- hah! that’s not funny,” You were succumbing to the drug faster than you wanted.

“I’m not trying to be.”

He forced your hand off his and reached for your shirt. You went to slap his hands away, but he gripped your wrists and tugged you to him. Nose to nose.

“Don’t make this difficult. You’re lucky it’s me getting you ready. Miche won’t be so lenient and Erwin is at his wits end with you. So fucking knock it off.”

You sniffled as the want to cry came back, “What’s going to happen to me?”

Levi let go off your wrists and went for your shirt again. Your arms lifted as he took the material off. Folding it, he placed it behind him. He took the bone gag first.

“Open.”

“Levi?” You whined.

Placing the cool rubber against your lips, you parted the soft flesh. Your jaw dropped to accommodate the gag. Levi reached behind you and made sure none of your hair caught in the belt.

As he threaded the leather through the hoop, he spared you once glance before going back to his work. “You’re going to be broken in.”

Your cheeks wet as the tears finally spilled over. Levi swiped a thumb against your cheekbone to catch the salty water. He didn’t offer anymore solace. Grabbing the harness, he pulled it over your head. The belts for your arms was loose. Tucking your arms through each hole so the leather sat under your armpits and across your chest, he tighten them to be snug. Hooking his fingers through the middle piece, he tugged to make sure nothing was cutting off circulation.

The harness sat right above your breasts, framing them in an alluring way. Levi reached up and thumbed your right nipple. Highly sensitive, you keened and bucked your hips. Swirling the bud, it pebbled beneath his callused digit. Arching further into him, Levi cupped the other breast. Kneading the fat, he pinched the nipple between his fingers. The other he tweaked to hear you cry out.

Tilting himself closer to you, he dragged his nose against your temple. “Doesn’t it feel good? Just give in and nothing bad will happen.”

Whimpering, you nodded your head, barely listening.

Levi angled his head and brushed his lips against your upper lip. He kissed at the corner of the gag. With one last pull, he departed from your breasts despite your begs to come back.

Satisfied, he took the mittens and you, upset he stopped, hid your hands behind your back.

Levi sighed, “You shitty brat, what the fuck is that going to achieve?”

You shrugged and then willingly gave up the appendages. Like muscle memory, your fingers curled in as he stole your mobility. He strung the chain through the hoop in the harness do your hands rested against your chest. The awkward angle made you look like when a dog stood on its hind legs.

“Is she ready?” Erwin’s voice had you sitting up straight. You didn't even notice him come in.

“Just about,” Levi explained.

With a glass of whisky in hand, Erwin walked to the chair and sat in the one on the right. Miche also strolled in, his arms crossed as he observed Levi at work. Coming over to you, he bent down and sniffed your shoulder. You flinched back, perplexed. His prominent nose brushed against skin before standing with a content smirk. He went back to Erwin and stood by the left chair, but did not sit.

Levi got up from the couch and forced you to fall forward. Guiding you, he had you lay on your chest with your hips in the air. Hooking his fingers through the pants and panties, he dragged them down. Your shoulder blades coiled in as you were exposed to a man—who Levi called Miche—you just met.

Miche whistled as he sauntered over, “She’s already wet.”

Levi didn’t respond and continued. He pulled the clothes off of you. Behind you, you heard the clanking of metal. You jumped as Levi’s cold hand clutched above your knee. Leather was looped in the crook of the joint. Forcing your legs wide, your hips curled up to accommodate the stretch. Another belt was tied to the other leg. A metal bar was between the cuffs, forcing you into the perfect arch.

A weight was lifted off the couch as Levi departed from your body. “She’s all yours.”

What?

Scooting further up the couch, you tried to rotate your hands to force yourself upwards when the sofa groaned from the heavy weight that placed itself behind you. A foreign hand gripped your hip and stopped your squirming.

A cold sweat broke out across your overheating skin. Due to the drug, your body welcomed the touch, but dread sat heavy in your stomach. Turning your head to the right, you saw Levi taking his own seat by Erwin. Besides the flash of acknowledgment, he turned his attention towards Erwin, both men ignoring you completely.

You were more confused and unable to do much to decipher the situation. The drugs made it hard to think. His rough fingers danced across the healing lesions across your ass. He could instantly tell what they were from.

“What nasty marks. No wonder they wanted me to help.” Miche’s voice was gruff and a deep timbre.

He trailed down further to your exposed cunt. With no warning, he shoved three fingers in to the hilt. You screamed as you sprung forward. It wasn’t exactly painful, but the stretch wasn’t pleasant. He grabbed the back of the harness and forced you still. Pulling his fingers out, he thrusted them back in with such force you gasped.

Drilling his digits in and out of you, he twisted them around until he found the spongy spot deep in you. You moaned loudly through the gag as he kept abusing the spot. Your nipples dragged against the velvet, only heightening your pleasure.

Levi and Erwin kept talking about something to do with business, but you could barely pay attention. They were mere background noise as Miche petted against your spasming walls. Letting go of the harness, he gripped your hip so you couldn’t run away from his fingers. His forearm tendons jumped with each pumped into your sensitive pussy.

His leg bracketed your right one so he could keep the perfect angle of fucking his digits deep in you. Miche avoided your throbbing clit which only made you whine. Your own wetness dripped down, caking your thighs and Miche’s hand. The drug had your cunt so sloppy. Squelching filled the room along with your moans. You were never this loud, but you couldn’t hold back.

Your eyes crossed as he didn’t stop his pace, his fingerpads hit the spot deep in your warm cunt. With a few more pumps, you came with a keen. You think that was the fastest you have ever came. Shame wanted to wash over you, but Miche wasn’t anywhere close to done.

He worked you through it until your hips wiggled from the overstimulation. Miche pulled his fingers out, but didn’t stop. Using the slick from your own orgasm, he started to swirl your puffy clit. Jumping, you tried to crawl away. It was too much, it wasn’t enough.

Miche quickly pulled you back. Using his thumb, he pressed into the rim of your asshole. He didn’t stop twirling your bud as he thumbed around the hole.

“Has her ass been used yet?”

“Not fucked, no,” Levi responded, monotone.

Miche hummed, pushing further in. He was able to breach inside, only one knuckle deep to continue playing with the bundle of nerves. Your thighs shook from the pleasure, you were already exhausted, but you needed more. And Miche delivered. Tugging against the hole, he kept swirling your clit at a steady, rapid pace. Rocking your hips back, you accidentally fucked yourself on his thumb.

Your cries rang through the room, but Levi and Erwin kept chatting, only stopping to take sips of their drinks. As you swiveled your hips, Erwin’s eyes stared at how Miche twiddled your clit, squishy, sloppy sounds breaching his ears. Both men were obviously hard under their pants, but didn’t nothing to relieve themselves. They either ignored you, or observed you like you were Sunday morning cartoons.

Pulling his thumb from your hole, you whined at the lose but it cut into a yelp. Miche slapped your pussy. He caught your clit with fingers. He did it again and again. In between he would press hard circles into the bud before smacking it once more.

Heaving, you came again with tears streaming down your face. Miche patted your clit twice. He left your cunt alone and took his hold of your hip. Slipping further down, you were spent, but your cunt still begged for more. How long does this fucking drug last?

Scooping your wetness that spilled from your cunt, Miche coated two of his fingers. Tapping against your hole, you tensed. Unlike Levi, Miche offered no solace as he forced his way inside. A scream bit out from the stretch. Your body shook as you attempted to kick your leg out to get him off.

Clutching onto your hip, he pulled your body backwards so you were speared onto his fingers. The air was punched out of you. Breathless, Miche fucked his finger into your ass like he did your cunt. He was fast and brutal, not caring to let you adjust.

A dichotomy of pain and your body seeking pleasure mixed in your gut. Ultimately, you gain barely any pleasure from this, but your mind was clouded. Little hiccups were chewed into the rubber as you were barely coherent.

Adding another finger, your back hunched. He scissored his fingers, stretching you past what felt like you could go. But you knew his goal. A tiny part of you was thankful he was even opening you up.

Cruelly, Miche ripped his fingers out of your hole. Your ass winked at him, trying to adjust to suddenly being empty. Now without his digits, the need built up again. Behind you, you could hear the sound of him unzipping his pants. Shuffling his pants down, his heavy cock slapped against his stomach.

“There’s lube in the drawer. Use it, we don’t need you fucking killing her,” Levi spoke, acknowledging what was going on in front of him.

That did not give you any confidence.

Miche huffed something close to a laugh and reached for the side table. Grabbing the bottle, he uncapped it with a click. You trembled, both terrified and antsy. You needed something in you or you’re going to cry. It hurt so bad, if you didn’t come soon you might just keel over.

Pouring the liquid into your ass, you winced at the cold. Spilling more into his hand, clicking sounds were heard as he fisted his own cock to coat it thoroughly. Repositioning himself so he kneeled right between your calves, he tapped his cock against your clit.

Perking up, you bucked your hip backwards.

Miche placed a hand on your lower back, anchoring you. Slipping his tip up, he place it right to your hole.

He leaned down to completely crowd you, “Look at you, begging for it. My favorite part of my job is to break in haughty little pets like you.”

At that, he bullied his way inside. Even with prepping you, he was too much, too big. Miche was definitely at least an inch bigger than Erwin. He didn’t care as he grabbed your waist. With his cockhead caught on the rim, he used his grip to force you backwards like before. You screamed as your toes curled as he pulled you further down. He fucked into you like you were a cocksleeve.

Trying to scramble away, you used your elbows, but he easily pulled you back down. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Sobbing, he thrusted until he was in to the hilt. Your brain short-circuited, unable to process the pain. Pouring more lube onto where you two were conjoined, he bucked his hips. Grabbing your harness, he lugged you up so you were suspending in the air as he pummeled his dick in you. Forcing you even further back, he clutched onto your throat so your head sat on his chest. He was so big, he swarmed you. All you could smell was his woodsy sent.

Canting his hips, he bounced you on his cock. Squeezing the sides of your throat, your already fuzzy brain went light headed. The room was a swirling mess of reds and browns. Reaching down, Miche twirled your clit. You hiccuped out moans. Miche grunted in your ear, loving how you clenched with each pinch of your clit.

Your cunt begged to be filled, but his cock stretched your ass so wide, the thin skin between the two made it almost feel like he was in your pussy, too. Both you and Miche’s thighs were soaked with cum and lube. The pap, pap, pap of his heavy balls clapping against you surrounded the room.

As he continued to circle and pull at your clit, a strange feeling built in your stomach. It was like when you held your pee in for too long. You squirmed, not knowing what was going on. Your mitted hands tried to clutch his wrist but it didn’t do much. Miche abused the bud over and over until it was too much.

Crying out, a thin liquid poured out from your pussy, soaking Miche’s hand, forearm and the couch. Miche’s chest bounced behind you as he let a out an amazed chuckle.

“Did you just fucking squirt? Did I break you already?”

He didn’t stop pinching your puffy clit even as you sobbed. Tears streamed down your face, embarrassed. You never squirted before and it was while you were being assaulted? Your heart smashed into the pieces as your body took over. You still wanted more.

From your spasming walls and your squirt caked on him, Miche couldn’t help himself and came deep in your ass. He shoved his dick to the hilt, his pelvis flush to your bum so not single drop dribbled out. Despite coming, his erection didn’t go down.

Releasing his hold on your neck, he dropped you back down on the couch. Reverting in on yourself, you kept your head towards the other men, but refused to look at them. Miche slipped out of you with a squelch. He groaned as he parted from the heat of your tight ass that gaped with his cum flooding out. Your squirt still on his hand, he pumped himself a few of times so both your juices mixed together.

Tilting your hips so you arched your back more, Miche swiped his thumb across your empty pussy. It was glossy and clenched with each brush. Adjusting himself, he crowded you further as he guided his cock to your hole.

You could only release a pathetic whine as he shoved far into you with such humiliating ease. If you could, you would slip your legs open further to welcome the stretch. He filled you in such an overwhelming way. Your cunt embraced him with no constraints. The curve of his dick hit right against your g-spot.

Little moans tumbled out, but you couldn’t do anymore than that. Finally filled in the way you craved had you stupid. He really did break you, fucked you dumb. Everything was blurry as you took every harsh pound. A keen broke out of you as he pet your clit.

Your body bounced with his thrust, your nipples dragged against the fabric to the point it hurt. It could have been second or hours when Miche thrusts picked up the pace, growing sloppy. No longer the consistent machine, he got lost in the wet heat of your cunt. Shoving your head down, he adjusted his position to fuck into you faster.

In a few more pumps, he came deep in your cunt. You whined at being flooded. He didn’t leave you just yet, and pinched your clit. You couldn’t even make a noise as you came, again.

Finally pulling out, Miche watched as his cooling cum for your ass dripped down into your cunt. He watched what he just stuffed you with drool out to paint your slippery thighs. Just staring at his own cum on you had him hard again. Not caring if you can take it or not, he needed to see it froth a white ring around the base of his cock.

Pushing himself back into your overworked pussy, he groaned at how sloppy you felt. You were barely able to make noise at this point. You whined as he laggardly drove in. Dragging his cock against your walls, his eyes didn’t leave the white forming around the hilt. You were nothing more than a lifeless doll at this point.

Tiny sparks of pleasure were cajoled out of you, the drug not yet out of your system. Going for your ass again, Miche shoved two fingers in deep. Not once did he leave your poor clit alone, swirling and swirling patterns into the bundle of nerves. Your lids fluttered as you came again, but it was so small, unsuspecting.

Almost at the last stretch of his own stamina, Miche slowly gyrated his hips. You were so still beneath him, so tuckered out, he knew his job was done. Fucking into you one last time, he spilled in you. He hissed as his cock hurt form the overstimulation. Pulling out sooner than he would like, he got exactly what he came for.

Warm cum drool out of both your holes. You were thoroughly used. Patting your ass like you just did a job well done, Miche parted from your body. With nothing holding you up, your legs collapsed out from under you and you sunk belly down on the couch.

Words were exchanged as Erwin guided Miche out. He did not linger and you were glad. In your muffled hearing, Levi must have gotten up from his seat. He crouched down in front of you and stared at your bleary eyes. Reaching for the gag, he released your mouth. A string of drool clung to the rubber.

“Still with me, brat?”

With all you could muster, you whispered, “I hate you.”

Levi didn’t look upset at all and accepted it with grace. “Good.”

Going behind you, he undid the spreader bar. Free of that, he came back into view and turned you over on your back. He let you stay down as unlooped the mittens. You let your arms drop, too tired to even try and gain feeling in your fingers.

Shoving his hand under your back, he pulled you up and against the couch. Threading the belts apart from each other, the harness dropped down into Levi’s hand. You traced the velvet of the couch, it felt nice.

He sat all the gear of the other end of the couch, focusing purely on you. You really hope you didn’t ruin the nice fabric with the disgusting fluids pouring out of you.

“We need to get you cleaned up.”

You nodded. Yeah, a shower would be nice.

Levi’s face pinched. You wonder why he’s so upset. Tucking his arms under your legs and your back, he lifted you into a princess carry with ease. Levi’s so strong, it’s amazing.

He took you down the hall and with the hand under your legs, he opened the bedroom door. With such odd haste, he brought you into their personal bathroom. It was so much more spacious than you thought it would be. Levi sat you on the floor. He turned the shower on as you traced the grout of the tiles. There’s not a spec of mold, at your childhood home it was near impossible to keep anything this clean.

“Y/n!” Levi shouted your name.

Oh, he must have been called for a bit if he shouted. Turning to him, he had that pinched expression again.

“Can you stand?”

Dumbly, you shook your head. Your legs felt like jello. You miss jello, maybe if you ask nicely, Levi will get you some.

You blinked as the water flowed over your sitting form. When did you get in here? Levi crouched near you as he parted your legs. He looked so scared? No, no, not scared… worried.

You wonder why.

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