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levmada · 2 months

Note

Hey how are you feeling?

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

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

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

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

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

(tldr this is the levi torture hour)

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

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

Until it isn't.

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

➥ wc: 5.3k

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

It takes off.

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

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

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

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

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

But…

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

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

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

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

He kicked them off?

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

“G’morning, ‘Vi…”

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

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

“Are you feeling sick, baby…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shifts slightly, as your strokes rouse him.

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

"Huh? I'm fine..."

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t know…”

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

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

"Levi..." you warn.

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

His strength starts to evaporate as his eyes slip closed.

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

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

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

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

It’s not a nice feeling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You silently curse Gabi for being so observant.

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah, okay!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have no idea. Not with Levi.”

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

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

“Y-Yeah?”

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

You smile to yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

“Lee—…”

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

“Come here.”

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

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

He must’ve tried to stand up.

“Does it hurt very bad?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Be right back,” you manage. “Okay?”

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

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

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

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

“Levi?” you ask softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Levi—! Stop. Levi listen to me!”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll, fuckin’ kill you.”

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

Are you telling only him that?

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

“L-Lee…”

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

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

“It’s going to be okay.” You squeeze.

He whimpers. “…Please.”

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

Falco was more correct than you gave him credit for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay, love, it’s okay.”

“I don’ know why I even…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shh... Shh..."

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

“Please.”

You inhale sharply. "Please?"

"Don'. Leave me."

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

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

Don’t go. Don’t go.

Wake up, Momma.

Wait... Just wait.

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

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

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

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

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

Where could he be??

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

He can’t be far.

You shiver.

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

"Levi!?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's wrong?"

His brow knits together.

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

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

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

He blinks.

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

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

His gaze sort of drifts away from you.

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

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

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

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

What can you even say to that?

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sick."

"Yeah, but it’s not bad-sick!”

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

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

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

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

In nightmares… A nightmare?

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

Okay. Fuck…

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

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

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

“Levi…” you console.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay.”

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

You see him still searching for the words to explain.

“It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

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

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

“Shh…”

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

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

“Sorry…”

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

“Look at me. Baby.”

An order seems familiar. He does.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

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

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

“…Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t make me sleep…”

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

He hardly grunts, eyes closing.

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

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

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

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

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

"Baby," you murmur. "You’re awake?”

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

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

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

You say nothing.

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

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know. But we can… talk about it?”

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

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

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

Levi masterlist | main masterlist

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

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mrsevans90 · 29 days

Text

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 18

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller

Warnings: FLUFFY LOVE!!! MAJOR SMUT, Sex outdoors, public sex, fingering, squirting, P in V intercourse, innuendos, language, romantic love making.

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Part 17

As usual, I wake up well before any alarm I’ve set has the opportunity to start ringing but today I lay in bed. I’m keyed up, feeling similar to how I did in the army before a big mission. I hate that her side of the bed is empty, but Emma’s mother insisted that we sleep separately the night before our wedding. All of the women were at the hotel together, so I couldn’t even sneak in as she was sharing a room with her best friend.

Our wedding. It’s finally here.

Emma didn’t want to wait too long, and between Nana and Diana, the wedding planning became a full event that those two spent every waking hour on. Emma had input and veto rights, but with her busy job she couldn’t devote a ton of time to small details so she let my grandmother and her mother do the heavy lifting.

“All that matters at the end of the day is that I become Mrs. Austin Syverson. Everything else is just details. I’ll definitely have to reign them in at some point though.” Emma told me the next day in bed in Jamaica after we got engaged. We were discussing what she wanted and she said she was happy to have Nana and Diana help plan. She just wanted something classic and outdoors. She of course wanted to choose her dress and she wanted the dogs to be involved somehow. We laid there that night in bed talking about our future and Emma’s smile was just radiant. I lie in bed knowing I won’t get back to sleep before my mind jumps to my second favorite memory of the Jamaica trip, the first being her accepting my proposal.

**Flashback**

The morning after our engagement, I wake up and see Emma still naked and wrapped in the luxurious sheets. Her hair a mess and her lips slightly parted as she sleeps soundly. Her left hand draped delicately over her sheet covered breast catches the light peeking behind the curtains and illuminates the diamonds on her ring. I smile to myself before tossing on some boxers and making myself a cup of coffee from the coffee maker that they provided in the suite. I quietly kiss Emma’s ring, then her forehead before making my way to the balcony to drink my coffee. I sit outside for a while enjoying the view and replaying Emma’s reaction to my proposal in my head when I hear the French doors to the balcony crack open. I turn to see Emma wrapped in nothing but the white bed sheet, her hair still curled from last night but now slightly mussed from sleep as she squints into the brightness of the sun. She gives me the sexiest, sleepy smile and walks further on the balcony closing the doors behind her. Instead of sitting on one of the many chairs available, Emma makes her way directly to my lap and climbs up.

“Morning, Sugar. Sleep good?”

“Mmm.. very good. How about you?”

“I always sleep best with your naked body wrapped up against me, Darlin’.”

She leans in and presses a gentle kiss against my lips.

“We’re getting married, Sy.”

“We sure are, Sugar. You excited?”

“The most excited. I can’t wait to be your wife.” She smiles and I feel the blood rush to my cock.

“Mm! I like the sound of that. My little wife.” I smirk at her and waggle my eyebrows.

“There’s something wrong though.”

“What’s that, Darlin?”

“We haven’t completed our mission.” She whispers sultrily and drops the sheet from under her arms to expose her perfect breasts which immediately causes me to groan and reach for them.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we? As mission leader and your captain, we need to rectify this problem immediately.” I grunt and thrust my erection against her still covered core before grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her in for a passionate kiss.

“Now, you gotta stay quiet unless you want us to get caught, ya understand?” I grunt in her ear and she nods.

“Words.”

“Yes, Captain. I understand.” She breathes and I rip the sheet as tactically as I can from her, exposing her naked body to the outdoors. I lift her gently to remove my boxers and kick them off of my ankles before setting her back down in my lap and grinding against her. Emma’s nipples are hard and she grabs my jaw and kisses me heatedly as she grinds herself against me. My hands reach down and grab each ass cheek harshly as I slide my cock through her folds, collecting her arousal which is readily available.

“You’re fucking soaked, Sugar. You like the thought of being caught out here naked?”

“Ah! Yes.” She all but moans when my tip bumps against her clit.

“Naughty girl. Anyone could look up and see your perfect body riding against mine right now.”

“Mmmmhmm.” She mewls as her juices actually drip down onto my lap. I like this new kink I’ve discovered about my bride.

With one hand grasping her tit, I take the other and shove a finger inside her core, quickly followed by a second causing her to moan louder than I had expected.

“Quiet now, Darlin’. I don’t need everyone watching my girl’s perfect body fall apart.” I smirk as I swat her ass and watch her back arch as she starts fucking herself on my fingers. Fuck, she’s so wet and warm. The sun behind her illuminates her tanned skin as she rides my fingers and I’m hard as a rock.

“Aus…I’m” is all she’s able to say before she’s squirting her climax down on to me. Her eyes are clamped shut with her hands gripping my shoulders as she arches her back and moans so sexily while I continue pumping my fingers into her to help her ride it out. I bite my lip and even have to force myself to keep my eyes open as this view is something I want to replay over and over in my mind, while also trying to keep from blowing my load without ever being touched. I pride myself on my stamina, but this ethereal woman makes me feel like a teen going through puberty. Precum is leaking steadily out of my erection and I’m taking deep breaths to keep myself from coming just from the sight in front of me. Fuck porn, this image is spank bank material for the rest of my life. Emma’s eyes reopen and she leans forward planting a dirty, wet kiss on me before lifting up, positioning herself, and sliding down on my cock. We groan together because she is so wet that even though she’s extremely tight I slide in easily. Emma doesn’t even take time to adjust before she lifts up and starts riding me. I plant my hands on her hips to help her and start sucking her nipples in my mouth as she tugs at the short strands of hair that have grown out on my head.

“After that show, I’m not going to last as long, sweetness.” I tell her and she leans down to kiss me again.

“You’re so fucking hot, Austin. I can’t wait for you to fill me with your babies and make me a mama.” She says with the most seductive smirk as she flips her hair to the side and I growl at her dirty talk. Fuck, she’s giving me a breeding kink that I never used to have.

“Fucking hell, babygirl. You want me to fill you up again?” I grunt and she nods. Without a word, I lift her off of me and bend her towards the balcony railing. Thank God we are on the 4th floor and it’s still early so lots of people are still at breakfast and not out yet.

“Hands on the railing.” I grunt in her ear and she pushes her perfect ass out. I spread her cheeks and grope her before spearing her back on my cock and fucking her, hard. I reach under her and grab onto her breasts that are bouncing from my arduous thrusting and pick up my speed. The thrill of being caught is exhilarating and I swear, Emma’s arousal is dripping down her thighs.

“My sweet, naughty girl.” I growl as I grab onto her shoulder and wrap her hair around my wrist to continue pounding into her. Emma’s sweet breathless mewls show me that she’s close but trying to remain quiet for me. I reach down and thumb her clit and feel her pussy flutter around me helplessly.

“Cum on my cock, Sugar. Let me feel you.” I grunt and moments later she shatters apart, gripping the railing to keep herself from collapsing as I also find my release and spurt my hot cum inside her walls. I grunt probably too loudly but, in my euphoria, I don’t care anymore as I fantasize about getting her pregnant right now. We rest for a moment before I pick up the discarded sheet, wrapping Emma up and pulling her back down into my lap. I do a quick glance and don’t see anyone gawking and staring so I think our tryst was successfully completed.

*RING! *RING! *RING!

The alarm suddenly lets out a shrill ring, startling me from my pornographic flashback and once again I am alone in our bed, but now with an erection that I want nothing more to take care of but I force myself to wait until tonight. I shut the offending alarm off before wiping my hand down my face, stretching and heading toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. I decide to send Emma a picture of myself smiling with the dogs and a text.

Sy: <attachment>

Happy wedding day, Sugar. I sure can’t wait to see you today. I love you.

Emma quickly returns the text with a picture of her in silk button up pajamas and messy hair and I wish I could touch her.

Future Mrs. Syverson: <attachment>

Happy Wedding Day, Baby!! I can’t wait to see you and become your wife. I love you so so much! Check in your dress shoes for a present from me! ❤️

I head back upstairs to my closet and take my shoes from the shoe rack to see a small gift box tucked into my left shoe. I open it to reveal a really nice Bulova watch with a note.

I find myself smiling at her words as I slide my new watch on my wrist. I have to admit, it looks really good. I quickly send her a text back.

Sy: Sugar, you got me the nicest gift I could have gotten. Thank you, Darlin’, I love it. Nana should be there with your gift shortly. Hope you like it. I love you.

I knew Nana would be on her way within the hour and had promised to deliver the earrings that my mom had left to me before she passed away. They were pretty little diamond drop earrings that had a pearl at the base. She wore them on her wedding day as a gift from Nana and PawPaw and she said even though her marriage didn’t work, they represented the love of her family. I sent them along with a note for Emma.

After a cup of coffee, Walter shows up and we head over to a diner for a late breakfast. He’s my only groomsmen, as Emma only wanted one bridesmaid, choosing her best friend Cassie from Alabama who I’d met several times when they video called each other. She was an extremely nice girl, redheaded and somewhat shy compared to Emma but I was happy that she came down yesterday and they got to spend the day together doing girly things in preparation for the wedding today.

“So, how you feelin’ today man? Nervous?”

“Nah, I’m excited. I would have taken her to the courthouse months ago but I wanted her to have the wedding she’s always dreamed of.”

“I’m glad you found her. She’s a really great girl and God knows how she puts up with your stubborn ass.” Walt jokes but I have to agree.

“She’s one of a kind, that’s for sure.”

“I thought you’d have the wedding at Nana and PawPaw’s ranch.”

“That was initially the idea but her mother and Nana convinced her there wasn’t enough room. Emma found the big field near first Baptist down there on main, and loved the idea of getting married in front of that massive oak tree so that was what it changed too.”

“Anything we need to do to help set up?”

“Nah, I already tried that. Nana hired the ranch hands to help out for the day. She said, and I quote, ‘Your only job is to arrive clean, in your suit, and on time. I don’t need you messing up our vision.’”

Walt laughed so loud he startled other customers as I shook my head at my Nana’s antics.

“Well, want to head back to the house and watch a game with a beer before we need to get ready?

“Absolutely.”

We head out to my truck and head back to my house.

“Emma tells me I’ll like her friend, Cassie a lot.” Walter says subtly.

Oh Emma, trying to set up her best friend and Walt because she wants everyone happy and in love. Matchmaking even on her wedding day.

“I’m sure you will.” I smirk at Walt who tries to act uninterested.

“All I know is that she’s a pretty redhead, who seems a bit shy. She is a graphic designer but I can’t remember where she works. Her and Em have been friends since preteens.”

“Good to know.” Walt nods continuing with his indifferent bluff.

About two hours later, I got a call from Nana saying that Emma loved the earrings and couldn’t stop crying while reading my letter. She already had the earrings on and was excited to wear them with her wedding gown. I felt proud that she appreciated the gift and it made me feel like mama was here with us in spirit. I’m confident that she and Emma would get on like peas in a pod.

My brother, Mark and his family came from Tennessee and would be staying at Nana and PawPaw’s house. I was happy when they came to visit and I got to meet the newest addition to our family, my 3-month-old nephew, Liam. Lucy their daughter would be our flower girl today and was an absolute ball of energy chasing Mills throughout the house. It was really enjoyable getting to catch up with them since we hadn’t been around each other in a while.

Several hours pass and I’m in my dress uniform headed over to the Baptist church with Walt. The girls were getting ready there, thanks to Nana’s membership, so that they could remain unseen before the ceremony. Everything looked incredible, and I had to hand it to the ladies that Emma would love it. Rows and rows of white chairs lined perfectly facing a flowered archway in front of the massive oak tree that had twinkling lights hanging from it. I had to take a deep breath as I saw Emma had framed my favorite portrait of my mom, and had the frame sitting in the front seat of rows of chairs. Effectively ensuring that I knew my mother’s presence was there with me. Seeing the set up made me more excited than ever to see my girl walking down the aisle towards me.

Finally, it was time. I stood at the end of the makeshift aisle with the officiant and Walter as many family and friends that I knew, and several from Emma’s hometown that I didn’t know sat in the chairs facing me. Walt had Aika on the leash with him as Cassie had Mills on the leash with her. Emma had been adamant about training him to behave for him to be at the ceremony. We all chuckled as Lucy threw flowers on the ground, and dumped the remaining flowers from her basket directly in front of the officiant before scuttling over to sit with Mark. The music switched to a romantic piano tune as the officiant called for the audience to rise and I watched as Emma emerged on her father’s arm. She was absolutely stunning in a tight-fitting white gown that hugged her figure perfectly. Her hair in delicate curls with white roses tucked in it, while holding a large bouquet of matching flowers. My favorite shy smile was across her face as she walked closer towards me down the aisle. I have never seen anything so beautiful in my life. I slightly shake my head as I can’t believe this beautiful, perfect woman was going to be mine forever.

All rights and credits go to the owner of these photos

As we joined hands and repeated our vows after the officiant, I never took my eyes off of Emma. She is easily the most radiant and incredible person, I’ve ever known. After exchanging our rings, the officiant pronounced us husband and wife. As the crowd clapped and cheered, I wrapped my arms around Emma and dipped her backwards in a passionate but appropriate kiss. Emma smiled ecstatically at me as I stood her back up before grabbing her bouquet. We gave a quick hug to her parents and my grandparents before heading down the aisle as husband and wife. As we walked back down the aisle together, our loved ones cheered for us as the photographer snapped hundreds of photos. I was more than grateful for a moment to ourselves inside the church as I scooped Emma up bridal style and carried her to a room together for a moment alone.

“Holy shit, Sugar.” I said as I stared at her body in this gown.

“Baby! We’re in a church! No cursing!” She scolded me playfully.

“Well, you’re sinful in that dress, Darlin’. Let me have a good look at you.” I motion for her to spin for me and she does so. I grunt at her before pulling her back into my arms and letting my hands roam her perfect form.

“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life, baby girl.” I tell her honestly and smile when her cheeks tint with blush.

“We need to go take pictures.” She says against my mouth as I pull her in for a kiss.

“Mm.. They can wait a minute. I just need a minute with my wife.” I tell her as I press another kiss to her lips.

“Anything you want, husband.” She smirks.

“You’re going to regret saying that, Sugar.” I tell her while arching my brow, not caring that we are in a church as I imply what I’m after.

“Save it for tonight, big boy. We have a wedding to get back too. I’ll make it worth your while tonight, baby.” She promises and I grunt before I adjust myself in my pants. Don’t need that showing up in all of the pictures. I pull her in for another kiss before there is a knock at the door from the photographer ready to do her job. I pout but Emma just smirks and grabs my hand before pulling me out of the room where Walt and Cassie are already waiting on us with knowing smirks.

After what feels like an hour worth of pictures of us and with our families, we head to the field which has been completely converted into a wedding reception. There is a DJ set up and tables with people already eating food. I’m starved so when Nana calls us to a table with food, Emma and I dig in.

Throughout the night, I’m surprised to see several acquaintances from the army in attendance. Turns out, Nana put Walt’s detective skills to work on tracking down any remaining army buddies and sure enough, they showed. I was proud to show Emma off to them and she loved getting to meet people from my past who couldn’t believe I settled down. Before I knew it, they were telling jokes about some of the nonsense that we all did out in the desert when we were bored between missions and Emma was absolutely captivated with each story. Before the night ended, I was dancing, yes, dancing with Emma before we left for our hotel. This woman could convince me to do just about anything with those doe eyes. I smirk at Walt who has been dancing with Cassie for several songs. Emma, as usual, was right and they seem to be hitting things off. Nana and PawPaw had just left and took the dogs with them as we were going to leave for our honeymoon tomorrow. I look at Emma who has her head resting against my chest and smile.

“Have you had a good time, Sugar?”

“Mmm, the best wedding ever. I’m so excited to be your wife. What about you?”

“It’s been perfect darlin’. I can’t believe so many of my army buddies showed.”

“I can. It’s obvious how much they all admire and respect you, baby. We should make a point to reach out more.” I just grunt in response. Everyone is so spread out now, it would be difficult to see them often. Emma cuts my train of thought with her next sentence.

“I have a little surprise for you.” Emma says while biting her lip.

“What’s that, Sugar?” Emma stretches up on her tip toes to reach the bottom of my ear.

“I stopped taking my birth control a week ago.” She whispers before looking up at me with those beautiful crystal blue eyes and a smirk that runs straight to my manhood.

“Oh yeah? Ready for me to make you a mama?” I ask her quietly.

“Yes, honey. Let’s try for a baby.” She smiles and before I can even think I’m smashing my lips to hers.

“Can we go to the honeymoon suite yet?” I ask when she pulls away from the heated kiss to take a breath, reminding me that we have an audience.

“After the bouquet and garter toss, we can leave. Shall we?”

“Fuck yes!” I murmur before she tells Diana that we are ready to go. Diana gathers all of the single women together and Emma tosses her bouquet into the crowd that is easily caught by Cassie and I smirk at Walt who just smacks my shoulder with a grunt.

Emma sits in a chair and I get down on my good knee and slide myself under her dress to go after her garter. Fuck, she’s wearing the sexiest white bridal lingerie and it makes me even more eager to get her out of here. I pull the garter off with my teeth to the cheers of the crowd before purposefully flinging it directly into Walt’s head with a chuckle. I’ve always had perfect aim and he rewards me with his signature scowl.

Thankfully, not too much later Emma and I are headed through the crowd of people showering us with flower petals as we get in the vintage car we rented to take us to the hotel. Emma wanted us to enjoy ourselves without having to worry about driving so I was happy to get to kiss on her the entire ride to the hotel.

Emma squealed as I scooped her up bridal style and carried her through the lobby to the elevators and up to our suite for the night. We’d be leaving tomorrow afternoon to catch our flight for our honeymoon but I was determined to make every minute of this night count. I could finally make love to my wife, and so that’s what we did… All. Night. Long.

Part 19

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood, @sofiebstar, @wetzilly

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me while it took me a bit longer to get this chapter out! This isn't the last chapter of the series, but I feel like this story is starting to come to an end which gives me withdrawals lol. I hope you all enjoyed their wedding!

#captain syverson #henry cavill characters #captain syverson fic #henry cavill fanfiction #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson smut #henry cavill #captain syverson fluff

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remediesremedy · 7 months

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Hello Hello!

so I've been reading your work and I'm obsessed🤩 Could I request foolish reacting to his s/o being a really quiet and shy person but like a total freak in the sheets???(like choking kink, spit kink, stuff like that) If not that's totally okay!

TYSM<3333

anon you sound so sweet!! ofc i wanna bring your idea to life, and you’re earning some major brownie points by telling me you’re OBSESSED? with my work? i’m smiling rn!! that’s such an appreciated compliment. anyway, enough from me, let’s get into the good stuff :)

ENAMOURED BY FILTH

foolish x gn reader

warnings: pure filth, spit kink, rough, choking, biting, breeding

foolish having a typically shy partner who is a freak in the sheets is so funny to me.

they come onto stream often, sitting content in the background, sometimes quietly humming when foolish speaks to them, and smiling at chat when they say something funny.

their words are soft, so delicate and smooth that even foolish immediately quietens down when he senses they’re about to speak.

the relationship had been pretty slow, the furthest they had gotten was clothed grinding, and that got cut short when foolish got a phone call, relating to a sponsor for his next stream. He wasn’t too thrilled to answer a call with his hard cock straining in his boxers, tip leaking precum and begging for some attention, but he cleared his throat and moved his sight away from his partner’s needy face.

that instance had left foolish absolutely flushed and eager for more, but he didn’t go past kissing. He refused to move at a pace that was too fast for his partner, but his partner was convinced that foolish was the one needing to take it slow.

one night, after a long stream, foolish is exhausted and stumbles into their shared room when he spots his partner bare. They’re stood next to the bed with a towel draping over their thighs as they carefully dry the water on their skin. Foolish’s mouth felt like parchment, and the only thing that would satiate the dryness would be his lover’s attention. With a cough he announced himself and his partner turned around bashfully, and then laughed quietly.

“oh c’mon you’re blushing like a virgin.” they teased, shimmying the towel over their most private areas, “it’s okay, im covered now.” their eyes softened, reaching a hand out to grasp his, “we’ll move at your pace okay?”

Foolish couldn’t contain his disbelief, “my pace? i- i thought you were the one who wanted to take it slow?”

“me?” and with a sultry smile, it was the beginning of their heart racing endeavours.

•their first time being so gentle, foolish’s skin is on fire as his lips capture his lover’s, his heart hammers as his partner reaches up and tugs on his raven hair, the gasp he lets out is delicious. When he aligns his aching cock with their entrance, and slips into their warmth, he swears he sees stars. His high approaches quicker than he would like, and he can’t control the utter filth that leaves his lips as they moan out delightfully, “fuck, you wanna be good for me?”. Foolish wants nothing more than to be perfect for his partner, “yes, yes, what is it?”

“spit in my mouth.”

foolish cums, white blinding his vision as his seed coats his partner’s warm walls. Breathlessly, he collects saliva in his mouth and spits, it lands perfectly on the centre of their tongue, and he can’t help but to keep bucking his hips. He watched in awe as they swallow it in bliss, he ruts into them, until his poor cock is aching and his balls are empty.

They are both satiated, they’re filled with cum, with loving marks all over their skin. and foolish is spent, legs twitching and coursing with electricity.

#qsmp foolish #x reader #imagines #lgbtq #fluff #anons are open #anons open #foolish smut #mcyt foolish #foolish x reader #foolish gamers #foolish dsmp #mcyt #dsmp smut #qsmp smut

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queen-of-weird-girl-nation · 16 days

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Why are you against taylor swift? I'm just curious.

❤️- Aurora

OK! so basically

1. I just don’t like her music, like I find it rlly bland

2. Her actions rlly suck:

Like:

Saying she stands with victims of SA, even posing on a times magazine cover for #metoo but recently she’s been such good friends with Brittany Mahomes, who told victims of SA to ‘just shut up’ (for context Britanny’s brother in law is accused of SA)

Taylor, by hanging out with Brittany sm, has given her a lot more publicity, which is gross to me. Jackson Mahomes, the guy with all the SA claims against him, is someone who she’s also been seen buddying up with, taking selfies and high fiving

Taylor dated Matty Healy, a known racist, who said awful things about black and POC women. While Taylor broke up with him, she never addressed his behaviour.

She makes a choice to hang out with these people, people who harm vulnerable communities, which leads to her (majority white and young) fandom thinking it’s ok)

Taylor Swift, as you probably heard, has huge carbon emissions. Like huge. She unnecessarily uses her private jet for useless trips.

When 1 person tried to make her climate use more public, they allegedly got sued, claims TS hasn’t yet disputed.

Taylor also sued a blogger who demanded that she denounce white supremacy in 2017

Why was this blogger asking that she denounce white supremacy? Bc swifties, as a fanbase, has some very toxic elements

As a POC, I don’t rlly feel safe in swiftie spaces (especially the ones on Twitter) bc her fandom has a tendency to go after people who don’t like her, especially POC. (Luke going after travis kelces ex, being rude about the Latina’s who criticised TS response to a girl dying at one of her concerts)

I know, ofc that not every swiftie is racist and white, but her fanbase can be, and it does affect the POC who try to criticise her.

Taylor has also done nothing to stop the harassment of her ex Joe Alwyn, with some ven saying she leads her fandom on with the way she releases her songs. If ur fandom is telling ur ex: if I were u I’d kill myself?’ Let get a hold on them!

She’s a billionaire. Enough said.

All in all, you can like her music and vibe to it, TS is someone who you can separate the art from the artist pretty well, unlike some others (cough JK Rowling, cough) but be a critical fan.

Ilysm 🩷

#anti taylor swift #taylor swift critical

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cryptidclaw · 8 months

Text

Frostpad!

Design Notes:

Same design as the last one I just redrew her and gave her a different pose!

She's a mostly white calico <333 i love her design sm

Character Bio:

Frostpad

(Frostfur)

Molly; she/her

Age as of 1st arc's beginning: 5 cycles, 9 moons; ~39 Hyrs

Age as of 1st arc's end: 7 cycles, 7 moons; ~46 Hyrs

Title meaning: -pad = a cat who is light on their feet; a cat who carefully thinks out their steps and actions; a cat who is sure of themselves, and is confident in their actions

Warrior -> Elder of Thunder Order

Mentor: Star Bluefrost

Mother: Robinwing

Father: Fuzzypelt

Sibling: Brindleface

Mate: Lionheart

Kits: Thornclaw; Brightheart

Adoptive-kits: Cinderspark; Brackenburrow

Grandkits: Yarrowbird (Whitewing); Cinderheart; Honeyfern; Poppyfrost

Other notable kin: Ferncloud (niece); Ashfall (nephew); Tulip (nephew); Elder (nephew)

Extra notes: Idk how she is majority white when the rest of her fam is very much not.... maybe she's adopted lol

Character Summary:

Frost is pretty much the same as in canon!

personality wise I think she is a calm yet serious cat, that doesn't stop her from having a sense of humor though! I think she likes to make joking jabs at her friends and family, out of love ofc. She is also one of the "prettiest" mollies in the Order and she knows it!! I think that she has a slight obsession with her beauty and she can come off as a bit full of herself at times... I think this could have effected her daughters a bit and made it harder for them (especially Bright) to move past their injuries. But I like the idea of Frost realizing this and starting to change her ways a bit and try to make her daughters know just how beautiful she thinks they are.

Frostpad is very good at fighting as well, and is surprisingly good at stalking prey and enemies despite her bright coat! She is also not afraid to be outspoken, though she always thinks through her decisions before she does anything rash. Frost was extremally angry on behalf of her daughters and certainty made her thoughts clear, it was strange for many cats to see since she usually has such a strong old on her emotions.

The only big plot change for Frost is that Bracken and Cinder are her and Lion's adopted kits! they were kits stolen from Wind Order by Shadow and were saved at the same time as Thorn and Bright, Frost and Lion immediately accepted them as their own and gave them a loving home. After Wind returned they learned that Cinder and Bracken's bio mom was dead and they had a donor sire so the two Orders agreed it was better for them to stay in their adoptive Order!

And yes, Frost stays behind when the Orders have to leave the old territory, I like the idea of the cats left behind joining the half of Blood Order that chose to stay behind as well though! So Frost still has an Order to call home :)

...

[image ID: a digital drawing of Frostpad an AU version of Frostfur from Warrior Cats. She is walking with her left side showing, she has a calm expression with a smile on her face. She is a slender, long furred, mostly white molly with blue-grey and light orange calico patches and teal-blue eyes. Notably she has a grey patch over her eye and patches along her lower back and covering her tail. She has a long hair tuft covering her left eye and her nose and inner ears are light pink./End ID]

#look! i finally posted another design!!!!#cryptidclaw's warriors au #rise of change #frostfur #frostfur design #frostpad #warrior cats design #warrior cats #warriors #warriors au

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year

Text

ramé

love.

a word everyone spells as l-o-v-e, except one certain young sorcerer – to whom it appears h-a-p-p-y, to whom it appears h-a-v-o-c – to whom it appears the shape of the letters of your name.

you, on the other hand, forget how to spell when the same word is before you – a fact which, your admirer reckons, would have been a major problem were he not he – that is, were he not the one and only 'gojo satoru'.

and thus begins, the plan.

and thus begins, the six steps to catch one's crush's eye — by the six eyes.

|1/6| overhaul your wardrobe.

▸ student!gojo satoru x student!reader; fem!reader; pining-since-childhood!gojo; oblivious-since-childhood!reader; height difference [satoru calls reader shortie – affectionately ofc]; cute banter; tooth-rotting fluff; suguru and shoko are helping yet foiling gojo's plans [poor boy]; the author loves shoko very much :]

▸ many thanks to @guccirosegold and @afortoru for listening patiently to my rants on this fic and giving lovely comments & suggestions! ilysm, andy & A 🥰🥰🥰

▸ find other parts of 'ramé' and other [stand-alone] fics set in the same universe as this work here! anyways, image, divider & characters ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

a low whistle leaves gojo as he appraises himself in the mirror.

snow white hair neatly trimmed with short bangs, sunglasses from gucci giving a peek of his transfixing blue gaze, a fitting tom ford white shirt paired with black slacks and designer shoes, and, to top it all off, a perfume by bleu de chanel he bought especially for today...

there's no way in hell you won't find him attractive today.

with a smug smirk, the first-year swings the door to his dorm wide open, ready to astound the two waiting outside with his insanely good looks - and pauses, boisterous shout dying within his throat.

"'toru!!" you exclaim as you jump off the balustrade you were seated on and rush to him, a wide grin splitting your face into half. "surprise, i caught an earlier train!"

in spite of the shock, the boy feels his lips lift in a smile.

it's been nearly a year since the last time the two of you were face-to-face; you're still as beautiful as you were then.

"hey shortie," the words leave him in a whisper as you wrap your arms around him - only for a pained 'ouch!' to escape him a second later. massaging his side where you pinched him, the boy watches you step back with a scowl. (faux, of course.)

"call me that one more time and no one can save you from my wrath."

"wrath?" chuckling, gojo bends a bit to be your eye-level. you narrow your eyes at him. "you think that can scare me? the gojo satoru?"

"it sure can," folding your arms across your chest, you throw him a smirk in the next instant. "if it makes me share all the mochi i bought with ieiri senpai and geto senpai, and not give you the tiniest bit of it."

eyes widening behind glasses, a gasp escapes him. "you wouldn't!"

"i would," you answer, the same smirk as before still on your lips.

gojo backs off.

you're nothing if not awfully determined to make your promises see the light of the day. if he continues pestering you, the young sorcerer knows he'll actually not get a single morsel of those delicious sweets.

"you know what," a familiar voice cuts in through his thoughts and the boy twists to find his best friend walking towards him. sending him a discreet wink (which he deems is 100% suspicious), suguru reaches your side and continues, "satoru here was really excited about you coming to meet him."

"oh, is it so?" your smirk gives way to an angelic smile. gojo wishes it was directed at him instead of that long-haired bastard.

"yeah," said bastard meanwhile agrees with an overeager nod. "shoko and i too were really excited to meet the girl our friend is so infa-"

a tense silence befalls the corridor when suguru abruptly stops in the middle of the sentence. gojo swears if you weren't standing there, in front of them, he would have murdered his friend in cold blood today.

"infa-?" you prompt, smile dropping a little as your confused gaze darts from one to the other. gojo forces a chuckle out.

"it's nothing, don't you worry," he tries to draw your attention away, when shoko swoops in, like the savior she is (gojo decides to buy her one month's supply of cigarettes) and inquires, "hey, you haven't seen satoru in months, right? any change you find in him?"

that seems to be the trick. a curious glint shines in your eyes as they travel up and down his figure - appreciatively for sure, the boy says to himself. you too seem to have a liking for expensive things, after all.

after two seconds of close inspection, you turn to shoko with a bright smile. gojo's soul goes soaring at the sight in the clear skies above.

"nope! he's the same old 'toru i've always known."

gojo's soul crashes down upon the earth, splintering at the impact.

his two classmates give him a look before shoko asks again, a mild disbelief to her tone, "you really don't find anything new about him? like, maybe he has grown taller? or maybe, more handsome?"

"anything else which you never even expected, maybe?" suguru pipes in from beside him. gojo shoots him a grateful look, all past offenses already forgiven and forgotten.

a beat passes before you shake your head. "nope. nothing about him is new. though, when you speak about unexpected..." you trail off with a contemplative look.

shoko encourages you, "when we speak about unexpected-"

"i never expected you to be so pretty," you finish the sentence for her with a small smile. gojo's jaw drops to the ground. okay, what the fu-

"oh," shooting him an amused smirk, shoko faces you. "and why is it so? why did you not expect me to be so pretty?"

"it's not my fault," you reply, sending him an accusatory glance as you continue, "when i asked 'toru if his new classmates are good-looking, he said they aren't. he said you all look really plain."

"do you find me plain or handsome?" suguru butts in, ignoring the blue-eyed glare boring holes into the side of his head.

"you're plain," the short reply comes in an instant from you - and even in the midst of his gloom for going unnoticed, gojo finds it within himself to smirk at his best friend's withered face.

in the meantime, you continue speaking to shoko, unperturbed.

"yeah, so imagine my surprise when i met you at the torii gates earlier today. with such a stylish bobcut, cute face and flawless skin... i really thought you were a model, ieiri-senpai."

you pause for a second - undoubtedly to catch your breath from that non-stop chatter; gojo knows your habits like his own by now - then ask the girl who's watching you with a pleased expression, an excited grin threatening to bloom on your face, "are you a model, senpai?"

said senpai lets out a chuckle in response.

and despite feeling dispirited (and very, very jealous of that shoko for hogging all your attention), the white-haired boy cracks a fond smile, watching you be so cheery.

yeah, you certainly are one very dense dumbass.

but, he too is gojo satoru - and he will get his feelings across to you.

▸ series: we're the summer to our winter rain

▸ masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo fic #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk #kit posts 📝

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4kimji · 1 month

Note

Can u do hanni x fem reader playing 7 minutes in heaven and the reader doesn't know that hanni has a crush on her since the day she transferred schools

-🎀

ofc!! i didn't know if you wanted smut, so i just made it a fluff! if you wanted smut, i'll make a part 2! i also made it so hanni confesses at the end of the fic :)) otherwise hope you enjoy it 🎀 non :3

seven seconds ꒰ ᐢ. .ᐢ ꒱ ₊ ˚ ⊹

pairing: hanni x female!reader genre: humor and fluff

you were currently at your first party, since you moved schools not to long ago. by then, you've accumulated a few friends, which were the ones you were with right now. the first one who came onto you was danielle.

danielle was a chatterbox, but the enjoyable kind. she was also selfless, always putting people before her. the people who came up to you second were the twins (as how your group liked to call them). hyein and haerin were the opposites of each other.

hyein was cheery, while haerin was quiet and kept to herself. they were the ones who showed you around the school, told you all of the school's gossip, and even helped you open your locker at certain times.

the first time that you sat with them in the cafeteria, the group welcomed you with open arms. at the table, you were introduced to minji, the mom of the group. but, one girl at the table caught your eye.

her name was hanni. she was quiet at the table for the first few days, so you normally just thought she was shy. as the six of you grew closer, you all eventually turned into extroverts around each other.

"so, meet up at my house?" hyein asks. the rest of the girls agreed then bid goodbye while going into their respective classrooms. you sat with haerin in chemistry, your conversations everything but awkward.

"will you come? please tell me you're coming!" haerin pleads. you giggle before answering, "guess i'll go, i have nothing to do after school." haerin cheers while you chuckle, but the happiness was cut short due to the professor shushing you two up.

after chemistry class felt like hours, the homeroom bell rings, signaling the end of the day. you decide to not look for your friends, instead going home to get ready.

the walk home from school was not too lengthy, giving you a little too much exercise. when you enter your home, you were surprised to find it empty. you take off your shoes and head up to your room.

you've gotten into the routine of showering and going to sleep early, but not tonight. stepping out of your steamy shower, you try to look in the mirror, but you were met with fog.

you decide to clean it later, since you had approximately an hour to get ready. as you dry off your body, you scan your closet to try and theorize what you would wear.

you settle on blue flared jeans with a white spaghetti strap top. a lot of makeup was not needed for a small hangout, so mascara and lip gloss was settled on.

when you get your chuck taylors on, you hear a car honking outside your door. you open it to see hanni's car honking at you. a smile replaces your scowl and you grab your purse, ready to leave.

you weren't so close to hanni, but you guys had a friendly relationship. sometimes, hugs would last longer between you too, but you always brushed it off. she would sit next to you, but never had conversations with you. but again, you thought it was nothing.

sitting in the passengers seat, hanni mumbles a greeting under her breath. you return the greeting and fasten your seatbelt. you look out the window for majority of the ride, due to the silence between both of you.

the faint music in the back made the ride not too bad, but the silence was thick between you too. fortunately, both of you arrive in front of hyein's house.

you guys get out of the car at the same time, but, you didn't notice hanni struggling to keep up with your fast walking. she had to jog up the stairs to hyein's door, since you were already there, knocking.

"hey guys! come in, everyone else is already here." hyein exclaims. you and hanni walk into the house. it was filled with many people from school, and mostly people that you didn't know.

hyein leads you and hanni to her living room area, where you find the other girls sitting on the carpet. minji was holding a beer while danielle and haerin stick with water bottles.

"what are we going to play now?" haerin asks. "let's play truth or dare!" minji slurs. the circle falls silent. "i think you've had a little too much beer.. we just played that." hyein rolls her eyes at the silly remark.

"why don't we play 7 seconds in heaven?" dani suggests. everyone silently agrees while danielle grabs one of minji's empty beer bottles. hyein spins the bottle and it turns for a good 5 seconds before landing on hanni.

"okay! hanni, spin it." minji utters. hanni's trembling hand spins the bottle. it was a short spin that landed on you. you look up from the bottle to see hanni already looking at you.

"alright guys.. see you in 7 minutes!" haerin waves. hyein leads both of you into her bedroom, shooing you guys both into the closet. she makes sure you both are in the closet before slamming it shut.

at this point, the timer has started and the game begins. hanni was glad that the closet was dark because her face felt hot, and she was sure that her face was red as well.

you decide the only way time was going to go faster was if both of you conversated. "so.. um, how are you doing over there?" you ask hesitantly. "i-i'm alright." she answers, tone matching yours.

after that small interaction, conversating was not the best idea after all. you lay your head on the wall next to you, closing your eyes. as your eyes get heavy, hanni strikes up a conversation again.

"do you have a crush?" she asks. "maybe i do, why?" you question. "I might have a little crush on you.." she mumbles her words out in a quiet but fast way. "huh? what did you say?" "i might have a crush on you.." hanni repeats.

you lift your head up, trying to decipher hanni's face in the dark. "really? y-you do?" you were absolutely shocked. "yeah.. but it's okay! you don't have to feel the same way." her voice pitches higher than usual.

"hanni.. i don't mind. is that why you're always so shy around me?" you tease. she takes a second before answering, "n-no." you chuckle before scooting closer to her scrunched up body.

"well, i've liked you ever since you moved to our school." she confesses. "oh really.. that's a while." you realize. you start to waddle back to your other spot before her voice stops you.

"i wanted to ask you something else-" hanni is cut off by the sound of a faint alarm and haerin's booming voice.

"times up!" haerin yells from downstairs.

#newjeans #newjeans hanni #newjeans imagines #hanni x reader #hanni imagines #hanni #pham hanni #hanni scenarios #hanni fluff #newjeans fluff

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 1 month

Text

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 9

AO3

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

A/N: Sorry this chapter took a while! Please enjoy some filler fluff as a reward for your patience

The January cold was a biting, painful thing, with the uncanny ability to burrow its way deep beneath any clothing, regardless of the layers everyone at Thorpe Abbotts had desperately piled on for protection. Thick, wool socks and scarves were always in order, and a few of the elderly women in the village had begun to make a pretty penny by selling them on to disgruntled pilots who had never before experienced winter outside of California.

Major Kidd had given her Egan's sheepskin jacket. Well, he less gave it to her than he did leave it in the mechanics' hut for her, but she appreciated the gesture nevertheless. The sleeves were too long, but she made do, as it was loose enough on her to fit comfortably over her work overalls. Combined with the wool tights she'd stolen from George, and the fingerless gloves she'd found at the bottom of a drawer somewhere, the weather was almost bearable. Almost.

It had snowed overnight. There was too much ice on the roads to cycle without endangering life and limb, so Frankie had been forced to commandeer a phone and summon Lemmons in one of the jeeps. The man had looked so miserable upon his arrival, that it had been impossible not to laugh. Hat tugged down past his eyebrows, scarf pulled up over his chin, his face was only half visible, and what sliver she could see was contorted in a frown. His gloves were made of bright orange wool, and she suspected the women in the village had run out of the more appealing colours by the time he sought them out. Grinning to herself, she clambered into the jeep, stomping snow off of her boots as she sat down.

"I don't like this country anymore, Frankie," Ken complained, voice muffled by his scarf.

She laughed. "Oh, sweetheart, if you think this is bad..."

He was stricken with a look of complete and utter fear, and Frankie let out a snort. "It gets worse?"

"Probably!"

This information put him in a foul mood for the rest of the drive, muttering and grumbling to himself about 'goddamn snow' and 'goddamn ice' as they pulled up to the runway, tyres gouging fresh marks into the undisturbed blanket of white. They were both left sorely wishing they had finished their work the night before when the weather had been more palatable, but there was no getting around what they had to do now.

The metal of the planes' exteriors was frozen to the touch, bare fingertips left raw and red as they worked away at replacing and tightening various bolts and rivets, breath blooming in frozen clouds in front of their faces. Every five minutes they would have to step away from whatever they were doing and run a few laps around the place just to warm themselves up, aware of what a ridiculous sight they must have made.

"Think they'll go up again tomorrow?" Ken asked, panting as he jogged on the spot behind Frankie, occasionally pausing to throw in a few star jumps.

"Not if the weather doesn't clear up - they'll need better skies than this if the navigators want to get anywhere," She shrugged, pausing halfway through tightening another bolt to jump up and down, attempting to restore feeling to her legs.

"Everyone else is in bed right now," He complained.

"Lucky bastards."

The pair must have appeared entirely absurd, chatting away with stony, irritated expressions as they stomped and jumped around entirely out of synch, and they counted themselves lucky that there wasn't a single other soul out there that morning to bear witness. A lit cigarette hung from between Frankie's lips, the embers only just succeeding in warming her face. Their cheeks and noses had both turned red after only an hour out in the cold, and by the end of their second, neither could justify staying outside any longer.

Kicking the snow off their boots, they shut themselves in the mechanics' hut, the light that hung from the ceiling swaying in the drafty breeze - the result of a ceiling gap that they were unable to locate. Turning on the gas stove that was usually only used to make terrible coffee, the pair pulled up their chairs beside it, holding their frozen hands above the small flame until feeling returned to their fingers.

"I forgot to ask you about your Christmas," Frankie huffed, rubbing her palms together, creating heat from the friction.

"That was nearly a month ago," He pointed out.

"I know. Just felt a bit bad about not asking."

"It was good, yeah. Sammy's folks had a goose, I dunno where they got it from," Lemmons chuckled, pausing for a moment. When he spoke again, there was a glimmer of something in his eye. "How was your Christmas?"

She frowned at him. "I told you before. Good."

"...Mhm."

A sudden knock at the door took them both by surprise, heads snapping towards the unexpected sound. Brows furrowed, they glanced at one another, neither one wanting to get up from their spot beside the stove. "Door's open!" Ken called.

They could hear the sound of someone awkwardly fumbling with the door handle, and Frankie was about to get up when it finally opened. Rosie had to use his foot to pry his way inside, a steaming cup of Red Cross coffee in each hand as he shuffled through, flakes of snow still resting unmelted in his hair. His face was flushed pink, and he wasn't wearing anywhere near enough clothes to protect him from the cold, snow encrusting the soles of his boots.

"Hey!" Frankie beamed, pulling up another chair for him between her and Lemmons. "Jesus, were you trying to get hypothermia?"

"Brought coffee," He said simply, voice still slightly shaky as he sat down, holding the tin mugs out to the mechanics. "And uh-" Reaching into his pocket, Rosie produced a crumpled paper bag containing a couple of doughnuts. "Don't tell Helen. Was only supposed to take one."

"Gee, thanks, Cap," Lemmons nodded gratefully, shooting Frankie a pointed stare that she pretended not to have noticed. She nodded in agreement, both hands wrapped around her cup, feeling the heat seep through the metal. The Red Cross coffee always tasted so much better than the crap they had in the mechanics' hut, and she resisted the urge to grin at the gesture, especially as she realised he had brought nothing for himself.

They drank in silence for a while, the only sound the jagged, laboured breathing of one trying to wear off a chill. "...So, uh..." Rosie began, hands folded in his lap as he looked between the others. "...Work going well?"

"Y'know, I can go somewhere else if you guys want," Ken pointed out, peering at them over the rim of his mug.

"No!" "No!" Frankie and Rosie blurted simultaneously, assuring him hurriedly. "You need to keep warm, Ken," She told him.

He had slurped down his coffee quickly, the winter cold cooling it down so that it wouldn't burn his throat. Shaking his head, he pushed his chair backwards out of the little semi-circle they had created, scraping loudly across the floor. "The fuel cans we asked for arrived yesterday, I should go pick them up before I forget."

"You sure?" Frankie asked, getting up to trail after him as he made his way to the door. "The snow'll probably start melting soon, you should wait until it's not so icy."

"No, no. Now's good," Lemmons nodded determinedly, smirking at her as he opened the door, a gust of cold wind blowing its way inside. "Thanks again for the coffee, Rosie!"

"No problem, Ken," He nodded, tipping an imaginary cap at him as the mechanic disappeared outside.

Frankie paused a moment to process what had happened before letting out a huff of laughter. Rosie was still sat beside the stove, watching with a smile as she crossed the room towards him. She leant down, and he craned his head up to meet her, their lips meeting in a quick kiss, as casual and comfortable as a long-married couple.

"He definitely knows," She pointed out, lowering herself back into her seat and propping her legs up across his lap, his elbows resting gently on them.

"Oh yeah," Rosie nodded in agreement. "Have you properly told anyone yet? Only, I haven't - I was waiting until you wanted to."

"Oh, I've only told George, she won't tell anyone. But I tell her literally everything, so y'know."

"Yeah, yeah, I expected that," He continued nodding, pausing after a moment as a stricken look of realisation crossed his face. "Wait, does that mean you told her about when we-"

"No! No, not about that, Jesus," Frankie giggled, nose creasing as she took another sip of her coffee. A smile spread across Rosie's expression as he took a moment to actually take in her appearance, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the hem of her trousers.

"... Is that Egan's jacket?"

"Mhm," She hummed, wiping her top lip as she put down her mug. "Kidd left it for me. It doesn't fit-" Frankie flapped the ends of her sleeves to illustrate the point, making him chuckle. "-but the thought was nice."

"God, I absolutely humiliated myself the first time I met Egan," Rosie shook his head slightly, his cheeks reddening. "Kept talking about flying in my goddamn skivvies, I was pretty sure he only brought me to meet you so that you two could both laugh at the weird new Captain."

She laughed, taking one of his hands in hers, absent-mindedly twiddling his fingers as she spoke. "I'm sorry, you flew in your what?"

"Jesus, I'm doing it again, this is like a recurring nightmare. It gets real hot in Texas, right, so we practised flying in our underwear to stop us from over-heating - but of course I decided that was the best possible story to introduce myself to the Majors with. I mean, Christ, I still don't know what I was thinkin'."

"Well, the first time I met him I absolutely destroyed him in a drinking contest, so he's been offered his fair share of public humiliation."

"That... does help, actually," He admitted, and she grinned, running a hand through his hair and messing up his curls as she rose to her feet. His gaze followed her, tilting his head upwards, a few loose curls hanging in his face. "Where are you going?"

"Funny thing is, I actually have this thing called a job," Frankie teased, zipping up Egan's jacket as she headed for the door. "I have to, like, do it, and everything."

"Wow, that sounds really hard, I'm so impressed," Rosie replied flatly, a smirk curling his lip.

A gust of wind blew a cloud of snowflakes in through the door as she opened it, flipping her collar up to her chin against the breeze as she stepped outside. Lemmons was waiting there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and his unexpected presence startled her, snow crunching beneath her feet as she jumped, sucking in a sharp breath.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Ken shrugged. "Thought I oughta give you a minute - didn't wanna interrupt anything private."

Frankie's eyes narrowed, glaring at him as they made their way back towards the hardstand. "Oh, shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Can you seriously look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong?"

Turning on her heel, she stared at him, their gazes locked for a long, awkward moment of silence. She gnawed at her lip, saying nothing, until suddenly she broke, scoffing as she stomped away. "Fuck you, Ken."

"Told you!"

Before he could move, she had slung an arm around his neck, forcing him into a playful headlock. Lemmons squawked, wrestling against her unrelenting grip until he dug his fingers into her side, and she released him with a yelp, their hair both dusted white with snow.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It took three days for the weather to subside - three days of icy roads, relentless snowfall, and trying not to freeze on the hardstand. Every day like clockwork Rosie had brought the mechanics fresh, hot coffee, filling flasks with the stuff to satisfy more and more of the ground crews, who were growing steadily more irritable with each inch of snowfall. The pilots were grounded for the duration, but even the pub seemed too great of a trek under such circumstances. The only sanctuary was the small, cylindrical heaters inside the Nissen huts, and in the evenings many took to sitting around them to keep warm.

Early morning birdsong came as an unwelcome sound as Frankie's eyes peeled open, adjusting to consciousness as sunlight streamed in through the window above her bed. A gust of air hit her face as her bedsheets were ripped off of her, and she flinched as she waited for the sudden chill to grip her. But it didn't.

"George. What the fuck," She grumbled, pressing her palms against her eyelids as she sat up, hair knotted and sticking out at random angles on one side of her head.

"Get up. Snow's thawed, they'll be flying today."

The woman had a disturbing knack for always looking immaculate - golden hair falling in perfect curls, red lipstick that never smudged, and clothes that always fitted perfectly. George always told her that it was just that she put in the effort, but Frankie tended to suspect some sort of witchcraft.

"Well fuck me, in that case, why didn't you wake me up sooner?" She huffed, her hairbrush getting stuck halfway through a knotted patch. For a moment, she couldn't quite bear to deal with it, and just let it hang there, weighing down her scalp on one side.

"Thought you should get some beauty sleep before you see off your darling pilot," She teased, her voice taking on a sing-song quality. "Although admittedly, I wasn't expecting you to wake up looking like you'd been dragged sideways through a thornbush," George added, and Frankie let out a cry as she yanked on the hairbrush, dragging it forcefully through her hair until it fell straight.

"I'll drag you sideways through a bush in a minute," She muttered, rubbing at the sore spot on her scalp with one hand as she pulled on her coveralls with the other.

"I just think it took you long enough to finally snog him, you might as well try not to look like a dying cat whenever you see him."

"Oh, piss off!"

Huge meltwater puddles lined the roads on both sides, the grass reduced to muddy swampland, sodden with what remained of the snowfall. Frankie pedalled slowly, careful not to slip, calling out in greeting to the men who passed by in their jeeps, tyres kicking up water, spraying her legs and staining her trousers.

Her breaks screeched loudly to a halt as she stopped in front of a half-melted snowman on the side of the road, the last remaining evidence of the village children's play. Their laughter had filled the air since the first snowfall, the only remedy to the constant, freezing misery. The snowman's head was close to toppling off, its carrot nose drooping pathetically. She couldn't help but chuckle as one of the pebbles they had used for eyes slipped from its perch, landing with a thumb in the damp grass. She wondered if it had snowed back home, if Alice and Jill had made a snowman of their own. As a child, she'd used her mother's old scarf and gloves, the scent of perfume still lingering on them after so many years.

Another jeep rolled past, cutting it too close and too fast, a spray of puddle water splashing all the way up her back, the cold soaking through to her spine. Frankie let out a yelp, her train of thought lost as she flipped off the driver in his side mirror and began to pedal again, resuming her steady, cautious pace as the airstrip came into view.

The Riveters were gathered around their B-17 when she arrived, packs slung over their shoulders as they readied to board. Letting out a huge yawn, Frankie dismounted her bike, letting it lie on the tarmac as she approached, the uncomfortable stick of damp fabric against skin making her squirm. The moment Pappy saw her, he frowned. "D'you just get up? They've run the checks on our bus already, right?"

"Your plane's been ready to fly for days, Pap - I was out here in the snow making sure of it while you lot were warming your feet by the fire," She rolled her eyes, squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

Rosie was visibly fighting a grin as she approached, Bailey shooting him a confused look at his expression as he passed, clambering into the belly of the plane. One by one, the flight crew filed inside, hauling themselves up through the hatch in a series of grunts, until their Captain was the only one left standing on the tarmac. The moment they were alone, he let his smile show, a red tint flushing his cheeks. "Ma'am," He teased, tilting his cap at her as she approached.

Frankie smirked, stepping forward until their fronts were pressed together. "So... what number is this now?"

"Seventeenth mission," Rosie nodded.

"Hm. Not too shabby."

"Why thank you, dear," He grinned, leaning down to press his lips to hers. Just as Frankie began to reciprocate the kiss, a thought popped into his mind, and he pulled back, eliciting a tut of disappointment from her. "Y'know, I had this idea earlier that I'd bring you flowers, but it's too damn cold for 'em. Thought I'd let you know anyway, so you can appreciate the thought."

She hummed. "Duly noted," Grinning, she resumed the kiss, her teeth accidentally grazing his lip as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. Hands grasping at her back, his brow furrowed at the sudden dampness, but he figured she might send him away if he ruined the kiss again. He could smell the oil on her clothes, but the scent he had once found acrid now only succeeded in reminding him of her. Even miles up in the sky, hanging perilously over enemy territory, there was something calming in that smell, a constant tether to home.

The pair had been so engrossed in their embrace, that they had failed to notice Pappy reappearing through the hatch, sent to retrieve something they had forgotten in the jeep. But the moment his feet hit the tarmac, and he took in the scene before him, he froze, releasing a sort of strangled grunt that alerted them to his presence, springing away from each other, hands raised to wipe any evidence of the other from their mouths.

Wide-eyed in a mixture of shock and horror, he spoke in angry whispers, closing the hatch most of the way to muffle the sound. "Are you kidding me?!"

Rosie held up his hands as if begging for mercy. "Look, Pappy, I was gonna tell you, it's just-"

"I owe George so much money," Pappy huffed, running a hand across his brow.

Frankie frowned. "... You what?"

"We had drinks last week, we were betting on how long it'd take for... this to happen."

She resisted the urge to laugh, noticing how Rosie seemed to be suppressing a smile. "George already knew about this last week."

His expression was horror-stricken, face growing ever-redder with every second that passed. "... Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Rosie let out a chuckle. "I think you just got scammed, Pappy."

Brow furrowed, expression contorted in fury, Pappy muttered to himself in indecipherable fury as he marched over to the jeep, retrieved his forgotten cargo, and stomped back towards the plane, pausing briefly to interrupt his incensed murmuring. "Happy for you two. Or whatever," He sighed, waving a hand in their general direction as he failed to meet their eyes.

As soon as he was safely inside the plane and out of earshot, they collapsed into laughter, his utterly outraged frown seared into their minds. Rosie wheezed as he caught his breath, "I think George is using your friendship for evil," He pointed out, succumbing to laughter again as Frankie let out a cackle.

"I am not letting her collect on that debt," She shook her head, face flushed red, cheeks creased with a smile. Frankie looked up as she felt his hands against her face, palms cupping his cheeks as he brought her face to his, their foreheads simply resting against each other's as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

"I will see you later," He spoke softly, the tip of his nose brushing against hers.

"Yeah, you better," She reached up, straightening his tie. "I'll be really pissed off otherwise."

"And we can't have that."

"Nope."

With one last smile, Rosie pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, and Frankie scoffed as he pulled away, wiping her face with the back of her hand. He smirked to himself as he climbed up into the plane, arms burning with the weight of his body as he hauled himself up through the hatch. Navigating his way through to the cockpit with ease, he slid into the pilot's seat, feeling Pappy's gaze burning into the side of his skull.

"...Yes Pappy?" He asked after a moment of silence, his co-pilot shaking his head side to side, never retracting his penetrating stare.

"I fuckin' knew it."

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #ken lemmons #pappy lewis #oc: frankie #oc: george #fic | i'm your man

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