#stab yer dad
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Song: Stab Yer Dad
Artist: Spoonboy
Character: Noah
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Cool Girl
Ghoap x female reader / 18+ / previous
The sunrise stabs under your eyelids with malicious intent.
You don’t have much of a hangover, but your face is still puffy, under eyes swollen. You’ve been crying all night, and it’s painfully obvious.
Not to mention the lack of sleep. The vomit induced by your overwhelming anxiety, the bile still scorching your throat. You haven’t slept more than an hour. You look like the walking dead.
You tried to have a serious talk with yourself around two o’clock in the morning. You told- no you promised- yourself you’d leave well enough alone. You’d put them out of your mind. You’d move on.
They never wanted you. So why are you so insulted that they did exactly what they said they would? You weren’t theirs. You’d never be theirs.
Good enough to keep in bed. Good enough to keep out of sight. But not someone they’d consider theirs.
You’re no one’s. You’re just… yours.
Which is fine. It’s more than fine. You’re cool. You don’t need them, or anyone.
Your hand won’t stop shaking though. It shakes when you turn on the water for the shower, shakes as you try to shave. It shakes through your first cup of tea and then your second, shakes when you curl up the couch and huddle under your blankets, staring blankly at reruns of some laugh tracked sitcom. It’s because you haven’t slept or you’re hungover or something-
And it only stops when your doorbell rings.
You slam your eyes shut. You’re not expecting anyone, and that alone makes you feel like there’s probably someone on the other side of the door that you decidedly do not want to see.
The glance through your peephole confirms your suspicions.
It’s Johnny. He’s standing squarely in front of your door, bouquet of flowers in his hand.
Your head starts to pound, and he knocks on the door.
“I know ye’re home, bonnie. I saw yer car in the garage.” You’re frozen on the other side, separated by a piece of metal and wood that suddenly feels less substantial than it ever has before.
When the lock doesn’t click, he knocks again. “‘m not leavin’ until I see ye.” You groan.
“Stalking me now?” You spit when you open the door and he grins sheepishly.
“Naw...” He doesn’t elaborate and you stand in the frame of the door, trying to block him from peering over you- though it’s no use. You watch his critical gaze take inventory of what he can in your flat, and then he returns his attention to you, holding out the flowers.
They’re tulips. Maybe twenty, twenty five stems, all in a spectacle of color. They’re beautiful, and your favorite.
It surprises you. That they even know that about you. That they would remember a comment you must have made in passing.
It gives you pause. It’s confusing.
“Got these for ye.” He’s… such a boy. A grown man, a decorated military man, a strong man but still… such a boy. He’s never looked more like a boy than he does now, eyes wide and nervous, shifting his weight from leg to leg. He blinks, eyelashes feathery and dark, and you’re left to wonder if he gets it from his mom or his dad. Does he have sisters? Brothers? Nieces or nephews? You ached for those pieces of them, before.
Now, the lingering questions fill you with embarrassment.
He steps forward, and you shrink back. His gaze flickers, and then clears, holding the overflowing bundle of colors towards you.
“Thanks.” You say stiffly, careful to avoid his fingers when you pull it free.
“Can I come in?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He chews on his lip.
“Ye look tired, love. Did ye get any sleep?” You sniff, hand resting on your hip.
“I’m fine.”
“Ye dinnae look fine.”
“Why are you here?” You’re cracking with exasperation, legs going weak. You’re not strong enough to stand here and survive an onslaught.
“Need to talk with ye, like we said last night.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, like I said last night.” You parrot with a irritated exhale.
“Ye know that’s jus’ not true. We need to talk about what ye saw, what ye think ye saw-“
“What did I see? Since apparently you know what I’m thinking now.” You’re too tired for this. You don’t want to do this. You want to crawl back into bed and hide under your blankets.
“Ye think ye saw us with another woman, or on a date, but-“
“I saw your hands on another woman. I saw her smiling at you like-“ you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter what I saw,” he swallows, mouth pressing into an uncomfortable line, “I always knew this wasn’t real, that it didn’t mean anything but-“
“Ye agreed. Ye always said ye didnae want a relationship.” He reminds you sharply, and you nearly swallow your tongue.
“Yeah, I didn’t, so.” The lie is foul on your tongue, rancid and spoiled, but you give it life regardless. Fuck them. You’re fine.
“But yer mad ye saw us with another woman.” He raises an eyebrow, and you never wanted to punch someone so badly.
But instead of a rising tide of anger, you get an overwhelming wave of despair, and tears prick at the corner of your eyes.
“Ah, no, love. Please, please dinnae cry. ‘m sorry, this is such a mess. We never meant for any of this.” Your hand starts shaking again, trembling against the plastic wrapped around the stems, and Johnny’s expression changes from sad to worried. “What’s this?” He tries to reach, fingers grazing the back of your arm.
“N-nothing, I’m just tired.”
“Love-“
“Just… go away.” Your patience snaps, shatters, and his face falls. It almost makes your feel bad.
Almost.
#peaches writes#Ghoap x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#john mactavish#john mactavish x reader
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heyo!!! here for the prompt game!!!!
can i have 19 with monster au ghost and soap (make em trans if ya can).... reader is male and a top/dom and he's an older dragon hybrid so he has a bit of a dad bod and is a little insecure about his looks and also his age affecting his performance (two lizard pp) i want the boys to comfort their dilf
Ngl this took me so long to do as I just couldn't figure out how to write it 😅 Play the game HERE.
Prompt: Becoming self conscious after the clothes come off
CW:NSFW, monster 141 au, FTM wraith Ghost, FTM werewolf Soap, M!dragon reader, afab language, double dick, oral, double penetration, body worship,
Dragons only stop growing when something kills them and you're old enough to have shed blood on Jerusalem's walls; you know how you look — fat widening your frame and hiding the sharp musculature you possessed, old age muddling fogging the gemstone like shine of your scales until they look like low quality stones, wing membranes dotted with holes and broken horns capped with gold and iron again and again and again throughout the ages.
You watch Ghost and Soap disrobe after a long day of running drills, Simon periodically giving one word answers to Johnny's insistent but welcome chatter as he helps Soap take off his gear after he'd sprained his back. It's domestically calming, watching your boys—your hoard— take care of each other, Soap's eyes settling on yours as he licks his lips; dread stabs your ancient heart. It picks a new spear morning you wake to find them huddling next to you when you expected them to be long gone, sharpening it throughout the day until you find yourself back in your bedroom with them so dark dread can stab your heart once again.
How can you even call them yours?
You're not dumb. You know no partner deserves to doubt their own abilities when you fail to become hard immediately like they do, hairpin triggers that they are. Nor do they deserve to be left needy and wet, bodies rearing to go again quickly while exhaustion claws at your eyelids after just one orgasm; curse your draconic blood for turning more than just your body lazy as the years go by.
You're so deep in your head you don't notice them until four hands grip you and before you know it you're being flung onto the bed. You land with all the grace of a mountain, the bed's groaning under your weight not helping to stop the thoughts in your head. They're on you like wolves, straddling your thighs as if mortal men can pin a dragon down.
"Now whaet's gotten yer tail in'a twist?" Soap asks, greedy hands sliding beneath your shirt to trace the swell of your firm stomach. Your heart preens at his touch before your mind can remind you that in society's vain eyes-their eyes- you're less, just bragging rights, a notch on the bedpost.
"I'm fine." You growl, pulling Johnny's hands out beneath your shirt. He looks defeated like a child deprived of a toy, though your sharp senses pick up a spike of arousal.
"Sure," Ghost's sharp eyes track your every movement, blackened hand gripping your forearm, claws tracing the place were muddy scales melt into human skin. Even completely nude atop your thigh his form strikes a sharp image compared to you. "What, did you get a shite tatt while we weren't lookin'?"
"Is it a tramp stamp?" Johnny perks up at that, a low sound coming from him and his thighs clench around your own, slick dampening your skin. "No, no, a dick tatt." And suddenly his hand's at your groin, fondling the smooth surface of your pelvis over your boxers in an attempt to coax your cocks out of your genital slit. It doesn't work, like usual.
"Fuck's sake," You growl and grab his arm, trying to ignore the swell of your heart when your rough action makes Johnny's arousal spike. "I'm fine, really."
"Mhm, and I'm the Queen." Ghost snorts, using your temporary distraction to lean in and lick a long stripe up the side your neck, nibbling on your ear until a treacherous rumbling purr leaves your chest. Your body doesn't care of the shit going on in your head, only recognizes the sweet arousal of your hoard and the soft touch they leave on your body, rough hands sliding across your skin and feeling the hard muscles beneath the fat.
"More of a princess, sure 'r bossy like one." Johnny pipes up and ducks to escape a swat over the back of the head from Ghost, unperturbed by your grip of his arm Johnny slides his other hand down your front, sharp claws shredding your shirt before you can stop him. "What's wrong bonnie? Not 'nough that this handsome knight comes t' lay yea?"
You suck in a sharp breath, eyes closing to escape their gaze, "I just-" You breathe out, "-just don't know what you see in me."
Silence follows your words and you're sure the next moment they'll get off and this thing you had will just be over. Then a hand grips your hair, your eyes falling open just in time to catch Simon's before he roughly kisses you. Soap is close behind, tail wagging rapidly as he licks the side of your lip and taking Simon's place when you seperate.
"How about we show you, yeah?" Simon growls, briefly groping the firm swell of your abdomen then sliding his hand down to cut your boxers away with his claws, leaving you as bare as they are. Ghost's clever fingers sneak down further to slide across your genital slit, sharp claws tenderly scratching the smooth scales around it and fingers spreading it open, thumb rubbing the head of one cock as it's starting to peek out.
"Not going tae stop us will yae?" Johnny's hands wander over your exposed chest, roughly groping your fat pecs as you both groan into the kiss. "Cause ah been wantin' to do this for a while," Then he pulls his head back and pushes it between your pecs, a low sound escaping him as he shakes his head.
A surprised laugh leaves you as you realize Soap's fucking motorboarding you, nipping and kissing your fat chest. His touch makes fire burn in your stomach, the way both of their hands roam across the wide expanse of your body making goosebumps pop up on your skin.
"Way to ruin the mood mutt," Simon chuckles alongside you, then his eyes go down. "Oh, like us being sweet on you, huh?" He smirks, fingers wrapping around your cock as you only now realize you've gotten hard, "Want us to keep going?" The sharp scent of their arousal is impossible to miss, only making both of your cocks just that much harder.
"Yeah," You breathe out, letting them maneuver you however they want. You end up flat on your back with Ghost stradling your face, cunt leaking slick down on your face. Soap's between your legs with his plump lips already latched on your lower cock, sucking and licking your cock like it's a popsicle.
"Fuck-" Simon yelps when you follow Soap's lead and pull Ghost down firmly on your face, your obscenely long tongue sliding out to lick a fat stripe across his folds. "-just like that. Shit, you take such good care of us." Ghost groans, his voice stroking that draconic need to guard your hoard and making you worm your tongue inside him. The sudden intrusion of your tongue inside his fluttering walls makes him double over you, but soon after you feel him latch on to your second cock.
Even with all your senses consumed by them you still catch the slight whine in Johnny's chest, already imagining him roughly fingering himself as he sucks you off and watches Simon's eyes grow bleary every time you twist your tongue to hit that special spot inside him. Without thinking you slide your tail between Soap's legs, mind flooding with endorphins at Soap's pleased groan around your cock before he's roughly grinding against your tail, cunt wetly pulsing and drawing more sounds from him each time his clit scraps against your scales.
You don't know how long you float in a fog of pleasure, Simon's sweet slick flooding your mouth, skin feeling hot like magma from their hands wandering and groping your flesh like you're some god, mind buzzing from the sound of their collective pleasure and the sweet tight heat of their mouths on your cocks. At some point you become aware of the orgasm steadily encroaching towards you and you'll be damned if you cum before them.
Giving Simon's sweet cunt a final lewd 'slurp' you pull your tongue back, jaw and throat covered in his fluids. Ghost slumps against you, breathing hard while still continuing to suck you off, his eyes meeting Soap's while the Scott desperately humps your tail and whines because it's not enough.
"On the bed." You growl, low and possessive, your strength still surpassing them as you maneuver them. Simon ends up on his back with Johnny pressed up on top of him, both bodies flush with heat and sweaty.
"Fuck, bonnie-" Johnny sucks in a sharp breath and grinds his hips against Simon, biting his shoulder and groaning as the motion makes their cunts rub together, mingling their slick. "Come on, fuck me-us, just-"
"I know," You chuckle, wings subconsciously spreading out to show how big you are, how strong, how you can take care of them. "Need me to fuck you boys good and hard huh?" You let out a low rumbling growl, draping your body over theirs and not holding back so they can feel your weight. You don't miss how their scents sharpen with more arousal.
"Stop talking," Simon growls, brown eyes meeting yours and urging you to press your slick cockheads against their wet holes, each cock almost tailored just for them. Simon groans as you slide in, your first cock not as long as your second one but fat and Simon relishes the burn as you spread him to his limit.
"Shite," Johnny grinds his hips back to meet yours and whimpers when your cock head brushes his cervix, both of their bellies bulging from you being inside them. "God, fockin' love you for this,"
Another small laugh escapes you, "Love you too," making a few short pumps of your hips to get them acclimated to the stretch of you inside them you start making deeper thrusts. "Love you both so much," Your confession is honest from the deepest part of your heart, a deep draconic groan leaving your lips at the way they clench so wonderfully around you.
You see Ghost open his mouth but words escape him as your cock saws into him, all the bumps and ridges on your shaft scraping their soft walls until they're both shaking, soft little moans and deep growls leaving them. You pick up the pace, sharp had thrusts into their pliant bodies making the bed smack against the wall.
You fuck them hard and fast until they're shaking with an orgasm but you don't stop, teeth bared as if to scare off your own pleasure so you can fuck them over and over and over again.
#Gnome's prompt game#cod mw2#x reader#gnome correspondence#top male reader#male reader#john soap mactavish#ftm character#ftm sub#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x male reader#john soap mactavish x male reader#john soap mactavish x reader#sub john soap mactavish#sub simon riley
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Caretaker
A/N: I should probably put summaries on these, but I'm terrible at brevity. Clearly. But wow some people actually like this and I'm blushing and kicking my feet. :) Thanks for interacting! Sorry this one is a bit more team-based than Price-based, but honestly the way to that man's heart is through his men. He's such a dad and I love him for it.
Warnings: Vague SA references or similar trauma, stabbing, harsh language, f!reader, talk of being shot, wound care.
Word Count: 3.8k
Feral Masterlist
What really puts the team and I’s tenuous connection to the test is when Soap gets stabbed.
We’re two months in. I’m just a soldier and medic today, on the ground with the rest of the group as we clear a warehouse storing some enemy supplies that we’re…appropriating. My focus is razor sharp, easily directing my hyperactive fight or flight instinct into looking around every corner and keeping a sharp ear out for any noise. Soap and Ghost are on the other side of the building doing the same, Price pulling up the rear.
Gaz and I both hear the scuffle and stop in our tracks before Ghost’s voice comes over coms. “Soap’s hit. Eastern corner.” We start moving immediately and I slide my gun wrapped around my body to my back as we reach them, the boys already forming a circle around Soap as they watch his back. I’m on my knees at his side the second I reach him, my hand pushing down hard on his thigh as I take in the handle sticking out just above his hip.
His body is held taut and his jaw is locked, clearly trying to stay quiet and still. “Alright, Soap, I’ve got you.” I murmur while Price gives orders to the boys. Gaz and him split up, more than likely going to clear the rest of the building while Ghost stays in the shadows next to me to watch our backs.
Soap grunts. “Good to know, G.”
I guide his hand to my knee and press it there so he can squeeze when the pain gets too bad. It helps my patient and gives me a good indicator of their pain levels. My fingers are ginger as I rip his shirt a bit more, moving it and his tac vest up enough to see the wound. “Didn’t hit anything vital, you lucky bastard. I can patch you up here, then treat this properly at camp.” I’m already doing it as I tell him, my med-kit open on the concrete floor beside me. I gather two pills in my hand and reach up, tilting his chin to look at me. “Swallow.” His eyes widen a touch and he lets me slip the pills past his lips before his throat flexes as he swallows. “Good. Those will kick in and take away some of the pain on the walk back, but I can’t wait until then. So, I need you hold onto me because this’ll hurt like a bitch.”
I hold his gaze, making sure he knows I mean it and he nods. With gauze packed around the blade, I yank it out without hesitation and Soap chokes. “Fuck.” He curses and his fists clench, his fingers digging into my thigh while I move quickly to staunch the blood flow. Price and Gaz return, nodding to Ghost to give the all clear. The warehouse is empty except for us.
“And here I was thinking Scots were more creative with their cursing.” I goad him a bit to distract him and he huffs a laugh.
“If you wanted me to teach you curses, lass, you should have asked.”
“Think I just did. You going to disappoint a girl?”
Another dry chuckle leaves him and I glance at his face to see a crooked smile despite the pain. “Ah, well, awa’ n bile yer heid is Ghost’s favorite. Means go fuck yourself.” The aforementioned soldier grumbles as he slides through the shadows to settle a few feet from Soap’s head.
“Shouldn’t have gotten him started. Now he won’t shut up.” Gaz comments good-naturedly from my left, he and Price watching as I work. That’s exactly my plan. If Soap’s talking, he’s not thinking about the pain.
“Definitely seems like Ghost’s favorite. Does he hear it often?” I’m nearly done now as I make sure the bandages are as tight as I can safely make them while holding Soap’s gaze again, drawing his attention with a direct look.
He takes a sharp breath, but grins through the pain. “Often enough, eh, LT?” He teases while glancing towards the Lieutenant.
Ghost doesn’t budge from where he watches us. “Couldn’t say. I only pay attention when you speak English.” Soap chuckles at that before I rest a hand on his shoulder and glance at Ghost, tilting my head to his other side. He moves there instantly while I look into Johnny’s eyes again.
“Time to get up. Lean on us and remember that the meds will kick in. Just keep moving for me, yeah?” My voice is calm and firm. I ease him up into a sitting position while he grimaces, but nods. Ghost and I share a look as we move simultaneously to get Soap up onto his feet. He groans and I brace a hand against his bindings to make sure they hold fast. As soon as I meet Price’s eyes, he nods and we start moving out.
Gaz moves towards me to take Soap, but I give him a sharp look. I’m the medic, the sick and injured are my responsibility. I keep Soap’s arm around my shoulders and push ahead with Ghost on his other side. The whole time I keep him talking quietly, distracting him and verbally poking him to keep his mind occupied. A single mention of his favorite football team sends him on a rant for five minutes straight and I don’t think I mistake seeing Ghost’s mask twitch as he smiles.
Gaz and Price are quiet as we make slow progress forward, letting me do my work, but I feel their eyes on us every now and then. Especially on me. Things go a bit easier when the pain pills I gave him kick in and Soap is practically back to himself by the time we get back to camp. Ghost helps me lay him down while everyone else packs up. We were planning to leave tomorrow, but tonight serves just as well.
Gingerly, I help Soap out of his tac vest and shirt before taking a proper look at the wound. “How’s the pain, soldier?” I set his hand on my knee again as I check to see how much blood has seeped into the gauze.
“Three. Barely twinges.” He responds and I give him a critical look as his grip on my leg tightens just a touch as I check my work. But I don’t call him out on it.
“It’s not too bad.” I tell him honestly as I remove the bandages, taking special care to clean the wound this time even as Soap winces. “As long as it’s kept clean and the dressing changed often, you’ll heal in no time. Hope you don’t mind my company because you’ll be seeing a lot of me for a while.”
He shakes his head, a little smile on his face. “Wouldn’t mind it a bit, G, but I can look after myself.”
“Not a chance.” My voice is firm and I make sure to stare into his eyes, placing a hand with blood smeared over my fingers on his shoulder. “That might’ve been how you did it before, but I’m your medic now. No one touches these bandages other than me. Especially not you. Understood, soldier?”
He swallows, then his smile grows as he gives me a nod. “Yes, ma’am.” I nod in return and finish wrapping the wound again while his eyelids droop. “Thanks, lass.” My hand lightly pats his shoulder before I lay his shirt over his chest while I stand.
“Sleep. Move a muscle and I’ll have you strapped to the inside of the car.” He hums his acknowledgement while I stand up and walk over to the men lingering around the back of our jeep. “He’ll be fine. It’s not too deep and didn’t hit anything that’ll cause problems later. We can move out whenever we’re ready.”
Price nods. “Let’s head out then. The sooner, the better.” He receives a chorus of acceptance from me and the others. I’m quick to pack up and slide my bag in the back along with the others before we get Soap in the jeep. Price drives, Ghost sits in the passenger seat, then Gaz and Soap sit on either side of me in the back.
“How are we doing, Soap?” I ask softly as we drive across the landscape, not exactly keeping to roads and worn paths.
He grunts with a hand braced against the wound. “Really enjoying the bumps, Cap.”
“We’ll reach a road in a few minutes. Stick it out, Johnny.” Price responds and Soap curses as he hits a particularly deep crater. My hand moves Soap’s to my knee again, holding it there as a touchstone. I’d rather not give him any more pain pills to avoid him getting drowsy, but I don’t want him incapacitated with pain. Keeping his hand there will help me know if he can handle it.
“This can’t be the worst you’ve had, Soap.” I poke a bit of fun at him and he half-smiles, scoffing.
“Not a chance. Being shot in the leg was a fucking bitch.” He shakes his head before leaning it back against the headrest. His eyes slide to mine. “What about you, G? What’s your worst?” I blink, hesitating as I consider the question. Price hits another bump and Soap hisses while Gaz tries to hide a chuckle as a cough. “You fuckin’ aiming for them, Cap?” His accent gets a bit thicker and I glance up at the rearview mirror to find Price’s eyes already on me. I shake my head slightly. Soap’s question is fine.
“Depends on what you consider worst. The most painful or the one that left me the most fucked up?” I offer and interest flashes in Soap’s eyes. I’ve got him distracted, at least. “I got shot in the left shoulder, then had to fend off an assailant in hand to hand. Worked the bullet deeper into my muscle since it wasn’t clean through. Took forever to heal and it’s a miracle I still have full movement. Couldn’t raise my arm above my shoulder for months.” The men nod or grimace, understanding and easily relating.
“Thought I was going to go stir crazy every time I’ve been put on bed rest.” Soap grumbles and I don’t bother telling him that he’s going to be on bed rest as soon as we get back to base.
“That’s because you can’t stay still for five minutes.” Gaz teases and Soap gives him a grin and a half-shrug to say he’s not wrong.
“Drives most medics crazy. Hope you’re up for it, G.” Ghost comments from the front and I look pointedly towards Soap.
“He’s not going to be difficult for me, are you, Johnny?” I ask expectantly and he shakes his head immediately. The men chuckle while I glance at Price in the mirror and fight a smile of my own. There’s a new edge in his eyes, a soft one, and I find that I like seeing it there.
Gaz shifts in place, a grin on his face as he stares at Soap. “You’ve already got him purring like a cat, G. What were in those pills you gave him?”
“Shut it, Gaz. You heard her threaten that guy in the bar. I’m trying to keep my balls where they are.” The car rumbles with laughter again, mine included, although it’s too quiet for anyone else to hear. We finally reach a dirt road and the ride becomes a fraction easier. Soap eventually falls asleep while I watch over him, my hand still on top of his where it sits on my thigh.
* * *
After a brief argument when we get on base, I force Soap into the med tent to stay overnight for observation. There’s a nagging feeling in my gut. I wait for him to finish taking a shower after I carefully wrapped the bandages so they wouldn’t get wet. He quirks a brow when he finds me waiting for him and I wave him into bed so I can take a look at the wound one last time before everyone turns in.
“This isn’t my first, you know.” He quips as he lets me check it again.
I give him a placating look. “After so long in the business, you learn to trust your gut. Better to be paranoid and wrong than careless and miss something that kills you.” That shuts him up promptly and my lips press together as I look at the wound. It looks a little red, almost inflamed. I replace the bandages before digging through a cabinet nearby, then come back with a bottle of water and pills. “Antibiotics, just to be safe. If there was something on the blade and it’s infected, then you’ll probably get a fever in the night. It’ll get worse from there depending on the infection.”
He takes the pills and swallows them, blinking at my words before remarking sarcastically, “Great.”
I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I’ll be here. After I head to my room for a bit, I’ll come back with food and you’ll be stuck with me for the night so I can keep an eye on you.”
Amusement creeps back into his eyes as he sits up a little in bed. “They do have people here whose job it is to stay the night. I know you’re just as worn out as I am after the mission.”
I toss the bed’s blankets up over his legs with a firm look telling him to stay put. “Pretty sure I already told you that the only one touching those bandages is me.”
He hums, his smile widening a bit. “You know, I like this possessive side to you, G.”
“Uh-huh. You’ll like it even more when I zip-tie you to the bed if you don’t do everything I say.” I return sweetly and he swallows as I pat his foot, then head to the door. Surprise flits across my face as I see Price waiting for me and I walk over, stopping beside him and turning to look at Soap just like he is.
“Not being too obstinate, is he?” Price asks and he keeps his voice lower than usual while nurses file in and out of the tent while they take care of their own charges.
I heave a breath, but shake my head. “He’s been a good patient so far, but we both know restlessness settles in a little later.” He nods with the corner of his mouth lifting. I hesitate a moment before leaning a shoulder against the wall behind us and turning my body towards him. “My gut is telling me that it’s infected.”
Price turns towards me as well and his expression turns serious. He’s been in this business longer than me and he strikes me as the kind of man who doesn’t disregard his gut either. “Plan of action?”
My eyes cut to Soap idly tying knots with a lace pulled free from one of his boots. “I’m leaving him to have some time alone. We won’t know whether I’m right or not until late into the night, anyway. I’ll come back in an hour or two and keep an eye on him.”
He nods, pressing his lips together before he looks at me. “Alright. Keep me updated if he takes a turn for the worse. And don’t neglect yourself either.” Price gives me a pointed look that I respond to with a small smile. It’s getting a little easier to give those out, recently.
“Understood, Captain. I plan on spending an hour in the shower.” I get him to smile too as I salute him playfully, then head out to my room.
* * *
I keep my promise. Well, mostly. I spend a long time in the shower, then change into a tank-top and comfortable pants. My skin is still hot from my shower and I cool off a bit as I walk to the mess hall and get some food as promised before heading back to the med-tents. Soap shoves every morsel of food I give to him into his mouth and I shake my head while eating my own a tad slower. He crashes soon after and I take the time to set everything I might need on the small table next to the bed.
After that, the only thing to do is wait. I curl up in the chair next to him and get as comfortable as I can in the uncomfortable chair. There are one or two other nurses that mill around, but otherwise it’s quiet. Eventually, I find myself falling asleep. I’ve slept in worse places in my military career. I’m still on the cusp of sleep when I feel something settling over me. My eyes flash open and I look up in an instant to see the culprit. His hands freeze and his eyes widen as I find Ghost draping his jacket over me.
I sigh in relief and relax back into the chair, my eyes shutting a moment as my heart thunders in my chest. “Ghost.” I greet him with a scratchy voice before looking towards Soap and moving to get up. “Everything okay?” He puts a hand on my shoulder to hold me in place.
“Everything’s fine. Just came to check on the stubborn bastard to make sure he wasn’t causin’ too much trouble.” He says quietly, his voice gruff and low. “Didn’t expect you to be here, G.”
I relax back into my chair with his jacket tucked snug around me. “I’m here for the duration. Just to make sure everything goes okay.”
His brows furrow. His usual skull mask is gone to leave only the black fabric he wears under it. It’s nice seeing more of his face even if the skin around his eyes is still painted black. “You expectin’ something to go wrong?”
I shrug a shoulder. “It’s just a precaution. A gut feeling.” My lips purse as I look at Soap, slack-jawed and snoring softly. “It could be infected. Or I could be paranoid.” I sigh again as I lean my head back against the chair and Ghost’s mask twitches.
“Either way, thanks for looking out for him.” Ghost crosses his arms and leans a hip against the end of Soap’s bed.
I raise a brow at him. “It’s my job.”
“No.” Ghost shakes his head, eyes crinkling just a touch as I think he smiles again. “This is going above and beyond your job, G. And I’m grateful. So’s everyone else on the team.” I blink as I take in the compliment and his jacket tucked around me. It’s sweet. Terribly sweet.
“I’m glad to do it, Ghost. You all have been pretty welcoming and I know I don’t come off the warmest, but I appreciate it.” Discomfort swirls in my chest at admitting it, but he took a risk thanking me. I can return the favor. “You’re my team.” It’s a claim and a promise. I’ll be loyal, dedicated, treat them like family, as long as they’re just as loyal to me.
Ghost nods, seeing this and understanding. He understands more than the others, if I had to guess. “And we’ve got you just as much as you’ve got us, G. Even if it takes a while for you to see that.” I smile as I pull his jacket a bit closer around me. I’m coming around to the idea.
* * *
I fall back asleep after Ghost leaves, but not for long.
Soap’s peaceful snores fade and I wake up when I hear a grunt to find him half-sitting up with his blankets tossed off. He gives me a weak smile when he sees my eyes open. “Sorry, lass. Afraid I’m not feeling great.” I lay Ghost’s jacket over the back of my chair and I’m up in an instant. My hands smooth over his cheek, then his forehead.
“Your skin is hot.” I murmur, knowing he has a fever.
He huffs a soft laugh. “Always knew I was hot.” The corner of my mouth lifts as I help him sit up a bit more and take his sweat-soaked shirt off, then wipe away the sheen covering his chest, back, and forehead.
“It’s going to be a rough night for you, Johnny, but the only way through it is straight.” I set the small towel aside before gently pushing him back down to lay on the bed. Next, I grab two other washcloths I have set aside and head over to the sink to soak them before coming back.
“You certainly don’t sugarcoat things, G.” He chuckles as I lay one cold cloth over his bare chest, then fold the other as I pat his face with it before laying it over his forehead.
“You want me to tell you pretty lies?” I ask softly, aware of the few other patients still sleeping around the room.
His head shakes. “Never said I didn’t like it, lass. Think it’s refreshing.” He takes a deep breath and I rub the cool cloth over his chest before wetting it in cool water again and returning it. “Reminds me a little of Ghost.”
“Oh yeah?” There’s a little surprise in my voice, but I suppose I was just thinking that Ghost understood me more than the others. “He was here earlier to check on you. Based on what he and Price said, I expected a little more resistance from you.” I reach up and flip the washcloth on his forehead so the cool side is against his skin.
He gives me a crooked grin despite the fever, pain, and exhaustion I’m sure he’s feeling. “I’m a sucker for a gentle touch, lass. And I’m a little bit afraid of you.” I chuckle and his eyes light up a little. “Am I delirious or was that a laugh? Can’t wait to tell Gaz I got you to crack first.”
“It was barely a laugh. Hardly counts.” I tease and his eyelids get a little heavy. “Sleep if you can, Johnny. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”
He hums in lieu of a laugh. “Good thing I’m not tryin’ then. In fact, think someone would have to pry you out of the team’s cold, dead hands to get you away from us now.” His eyes fall shut as he speaks and I keep gently dabbing his face with the cold washcloth. I let the words sink into me along with Ghost’s earlier, feeling them tether me to the team and the men that create it. But it doesn’t feel like a weight. It feels like a life preserver, buoying me over the waves I’ve been fighting against for a while now. Finally, I take a breath without worrying about whether I’ll take on water.
“Yeah,” I whisper, resting my hand on the cloth on his chest to feel his heart. “I’m getting pretty fond of you all too.”
Taglist (oh my gosh, hi people! Thanks for wanting to be tagged, I love you. Hope you enjoy. If anyone else wants to be tagged, lmk):
@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas
#cod#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#soap#gaz#price#captain price#TF141#codmw2#codmw3#fluff#angst#f!reader#reader x price#price x OC#comfort#ghost#simon ghost riley
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Redoing that one part of hazbin hotel with me and my friends instead
Haters:"Ok seriously, how many of you freaks do I have to fight!?"
Blaze:"Oh, I'm the only one that matters. See, you mess with my son, and now, I am going to FUCK YOU."
Hater:
Phoenix:....
Noah:*Raises an eyebrow*
Code:*Look that's saying "bro, seriously?"*
Ray:"Well this just got interesting"
Bird:*Smirking enjoying themselves/herself/himself*
Moon Dusk:*Very fucking confused and very uncomfortable*
Crispy:"It's fuck you up..dad."
Blaze:"Wait what did I say?"
-Time Skip-
Hater:"Fucking losers-" *Gets stabbed by Arby* "AAHHHHHH-"
Phoenix:"Woah!"
Blaze:"Ay, you got something sticking out of yer....your thing there"
Credits to who is who:
Me/Blaze - Lucifer
Haters - Adam
@single-celled-autism (Phoenix) - Vaggie
@noahhasbeensummoned (Noah) - Angel Dust
@codebreaker-0 (Code) - Husker
@ask-velvette (Mod Bird) - Velvette (ofc)
@sillinessoverloadawa (Mod Ray) - Valentino
@xxmoonduskxx (Moon Dusk) - Vox
@crispybacondoesstuff (Crispy) - Charlie
@mod-arby (Arby) - Niffty
#samira speaks#hazbin hotel#hazbin lucifer#hazbin adam#hazbin vaggie#hazbin angel dust#hazbin husk#hazbin velvette#hazbin valentino#hazbin vox#hazbin charlie#hazbin niffty#lucifer#lucifer morningstar#vaggie#angel dust#hazbin hotel husk#hazbin husker#hazbin hotel velvette#valentino#hazbin hotel vox#vox#charlie morningstar#niffty#nifty hazbin hotel
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SoapGaz Headcanon
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Headcanons for some tired 141 Sergeants bc I'm abt to go snore mimimi myself. Enjoy
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
The 141 had just gotten back from a very long and tiring mission, it was taking their all not to fall asleep in their seats as they flew back home. Even the ever stoic Lieutenant was starting to nodd off, doing that litte head falling forward slightly then startling upright again thing. Price was relaxed against his seat and had his hat pulled down into his face so one couldn't be sure if he was still awake or not. The two sergeants sat next to each other, opposite Price and Ghost. They were leaning against each other, trying to stay awake by talking about random stuff like weird posters they'd see in the building they'd just infiltrated. They were nearing "I'm pretty sure I'm so tired I can see the hat man" territory when the pilot finally announced that'd they were going to land in five. Price moved for the first time in 30 minutes and sat up straight again, while Ghost also snapped back into a more alert state (even though he still looked like death warmed over).
"Alright lads, we'll debrief tomorrow. We all need a fucking nap," Price said as he got up with the typical knee slap thing that old men (especially dads) liked to do.
Ghost followed after him like a lost puppy, seemingly still half asleep but knowing he could follow Price and end up in his own room for a well deserved nap. That left Soap and Gaz in the aircraft, both looking forward to nap time too but also dreading the walk to their rooms. Soap got his shit together first and got up and out of reflex put his hand on the back of Gaz' head to pull him forward a little so he could plant a smooch onto his forehead.
"Sleep well, wee yin." He murmured and turned to walk away, freezing after a step as he realized what he'd one.
Gaz was sitting there, absolutely flabbergasted. Not only had Soap kissed him on the forehead, he had also called him "little one", a term he knew meant that since he'd heard the man call his nieces and nephews that. Soap turned back Gaz and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Sorry about that, its a reflex. I always do that to my nieces and nephews when I'm home, guess I must be more tired than I thought if my brain thinks you qualify for that treatment." Soap explained, chuckling awkwardly.
"Its fine," Gaz said with a tired smile, getting up too and stepping up to Soap. "I liked it. You know what they say, you gotta kiss the homies good night."
"I'm not gonna kiss Price. Or Ghost for that matter. Pretty sure the mad lad would stab me if I tried." Soap grimaced.
"Oh? So you're saying I get special treatment? That's favoritism, Sergeant McTavish." Gaz hummed amusedly.
"So what? Yer gonna punish me for it, Sergeant Garrick?" Soap teased right back with a grin.
Gaz' eyes dropped to the scotsman's lips for a second, then back up to his eyes.
"No, but I think I'm going to return the favor." He almost purred, then leaned in and connected their lips in a short and sweet kiss. He had to chuckle at the noise of surprise that came from Soap and had a short moment of panic as the man seemed to freeze up, before his anxiety was washed away by the feeling of the other man's hands on his hips. They pulled back slowly, small smiles on both of their faces.
"That was unexpected, but very welcome." Soap whispered.
Gaz hummed in agreement, wrapping his arms around Soap's neck and leaning into him. They stayed that way for a few seconds, enjoying the closeness and comfort of the other.
"Alright, as much as I'd love to stay here and cuddle you all day - well, night, by now - but I think I'm about to fall asleep standing up. So, if you wanna keep cuddling me, we best get back to one of our rooms." Gaz said with a yawn.
"Inviting me back to your room already? Damn, buy me dinner first." Soap teased, receiving a weak slap to the shoulder for his joke.
"Oh shut up, you. That's not what I meant and you know it. Now, do you want cuddles or not?" Gaz huffed with a pout.
"How could I ever say no to that face?" Soap smiled and lead Gaz to his room by their entertwined hands for some well deserved rest and cuddles.
And if they stopped a few times along the way to trade a soft kiss or two, well, who was there to judge?
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A/N: Alright, that's it from me, Imma hit the sack (sadly no cuddles for me). Also, if anyone is wondering why Soap has 0 Scottish speech mannerisms, well, that's cuz I know jack shit abt the accent and I don't wanna fuck it up. That one nickname I used I had to google :'D so unless any of you wanna Scot-ify his speech for me, he shall remain unseasoned
#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#captain john price#simon ghost riley#gazsoap#soapgaz#soap x gaz#gaz x soap#cod mw2#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty#ghost call of duty
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Daddy - AJJ / Stab Yer Dad - Spoonboy / Hollis Brown Thornton / My Name Is - Eminem / Father - The Front Bottoms
#words#comparatives#family is hell#sorry for eminem being on here. i grew up near detroit#and it just really fits#bug.txt
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When I Lost You pt 2
Sindri X Fem! Reader
What if SIndri actually had a wife and child? A wife that Sindri had believed to be dead for years because of Odin. Then Asriel, their child, starts having visions of his mother, but he’s unsure on how to approach his father about it.
Sindri sat in the middle of what remained of his old home. The cold of Midgard felt like nothing compared to the stabbing feeling in his chest. His gloves were even off. He played with the two wedding bands that he wore, one his the other hers. He had crafted both of them just before the wedding. One of the few fond memories he had left.
How long had it been since he was here?
It’s had to be at least ten years. With Asriel now fifteen.
“Dad?”
Sindri jumped slightly but didn’t turn towards his son.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Sindri said, he wasn’t angry, just pained.
“Uncle Brok said you were going to be here,” Asriel said as he sat down next to his dad. Sindri didn’t say anything and just continued to play with the rings. “What happened? What is this place?”
Sindri knew that this conversation was long overdue. He would have to tell Asriel what happened that night.
“This was…. This was our… home,” Sindri started,” your mother and I… we-we lived here… this… this is where you were supposed to grow up… but… but then the protection stave broke…B-Baldur… Odin… they…”
“I understand,” Asriel set his hand on his father’s shaking one. Sindri looked at Asriel for the first time in this whole interaction.
“If she’s… if she’s still alive she’s… she’s going to hate me… for not coming to her sooner…,” Sindri whispered.
“I don’t think that’s true,” Asriel said, he squeezed his dad’s hand. “We’re going to figure this out… together.”
Sindri used his free hand to wipe away his tears.
“Yes, together,” Sindri agreed. Asriel stood up pulling his dad with him.
The two headed back to the portal door. Brock had waited patiently for the two.
“Get it out of yer system?” Brok asked.
“Yeah, let’s get this all figured out,” Sindri nodded as they headed back home.
Back home the others had been waiting in anticipation.
“Is everything alright?” Freya asked as soon as she saw Asriel, Sindri and Brok.
“Yeah, we’re okay,” Asriel said as he sat down at the table. Sindri and Brok followed his lead.
“So Asriel now that things have calmed down the women that you believe is your mother, do you know where she is?” Freya asked. “Maybe it isn’t too late.”
“No, all I really know is that there’s a needle like plant stabbing the back of her neck,” Asriel said. Freya’s eyes widened, she quickly stood up and walked to her little study area. She grabbed a book flipping through its pages
“Is this what you’re seeing?” Freya offered the book to Asriel. Asriel examined the plant. With a grim expression Asriel gave a soft nod.
“It is,” he said.
“Then this is not good, these plants are only native to Muspelhiem,” Freya said as she closed the book.
“Wh-what are they exactly?” Sindri now asked.
“Nightmare thistle. When stung by it, as the name implies, invokes nightmares, but continuously being stung… that… that would cause an unimaginable Hell,” Freya explained.
“Oh god... my dearest Y/n,” Sindri muttered to himself.
“I think I know where she is,” Mimir now said. Kratos grabbed Mimir so that now everyone could see him.
“You do?!” Asriel and Sindri asked in unison.
“Aye,” Mimir nodded,” Odin has only ever kept one other prisoner there.”
“Then it’s decided, Freya and I will go investigate,” Kratos said.
“Please before you go, I would like to update your things,” Sindri said.
“Hm,” Kratos grunted in agreement.
---
“No! NO! AHHHHH!”
You watched again as both Sindri and Asriel were killed in front of you. You were helpless. No way to move, no way to stop it.
Your vision faded away as the scene ‘reset’.
“Please... please... stop...,” you cried.
“You did this to them, you killed them Y/n. Tell me was it worth it?” Odin asked.
“No... no... no...,” you shook your head.
“All you had to do was give me what I wanted,” Odin said. He looked at Baldur once more and nodded. Once again you watched as Baldur killed Sindri and Asriel in front of you.
“Ahhhh!” you screamed.
This time the scene didn’t ‘reset’. Instead you heard the quite hushing of a women.
“Shhh, its okay. Your safe now,” she whispered. Your vision focused back in. You were met with a pair of brown eyes. They were soft and caring.
There was a sharp pain in the back of your neck.
“Wh-where...? Who...? My... Sin... As...,” you tried saying but your voice still very weak.
“I can carry her,” A deep male voiced offered. You head snapped up only to see Kratos.
“Kra-,” you mumbled.
“Shh, shh, don’t speak, there will be plenty of time for that later,” the woman now said.
Where was Faye?
Why wasn’t she here?
Why was this woman here instead?
Knowing you wouldn’t get answers now you let Kratos pick you up.
“Let’s get back quickly,” the woman said.
“Hm,” Kratos grunted in agreement.
Through most of the walk you were phasing in and out of consciousness. That was until you were in front of a giant tree that looked like it was a home as well.
“Kratos... I think I’m... good t-to walk on my own,” you spoke softly. Kratos let out a grunt as he gently set you down. He made sure you were steady before letting you go.
“How do you feel?” the woman asked as the three of you approached the set of double doors.
“Everything feels... weird... I...who are you...? Where is... my sister?” you asked.
“My name is Freya,” the woman responded.
“Freya...? Like... the goddess?” you questioned.
“Yes, but I am not here to cause any harm...,” Frey said. You nodded, feeling what she said was true.
“And Faye... Faye passed away a few years ago,” Kratos said. Your heart shattered... how much have you missed?
“Was it... Odin...? I swear to the gods...,” you said.
“It was not, it was all natural causes,” Kratos said.
“I see...,” you mumbled.
“We should head inside, I’m sure the others are quite anxious to see you,” Freya said. You nodded softly. Kratos pushed open the doors open
Your bare feet were cold against the smooth tile floor.
“So did ya- Well I’ll be damned.”
You looked over to see Brok, he had a look of astonishment and relief in his eyes.
“Tell me, did you find her?”
You knew that voice. You pushed your way through Freya and Kratos. Sindri stood there in front. Your legs grew weak as you fell to your knees.
Sindri stepped towards you in shock.
“Is it really you?” he whispered cupping your face in his hands. Tears fell from both of your eyes. You took in a deep breath and set your hands on top of his.
“Yes,” you croaked. Sindri wrapped his arms around your neck, he pulled you close holding you tightly. You held him just as tightly.
“I never thought this day would happen,” Sindri cried. “I thought you were dead. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“Shh, shh, it’s alright, you didn’t know,” you whispered. You pulled away and looked Sindri in the eyes. Sindri sniffled and set your forehead on his. He rubbed circles on your cheek.
“Mom?”
Your heart dropped as you pulled away from Sindri...
“Asriel?” you whispered. Asriel nodded as he stepped towards his mother.
“You recognize me?” Asriel asked. You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.
“Of course I do,” you said as you out stretched your arms to him. Asriel choked up a sob and ran into your arms. “You’ve gotten so big. Tell me how old are you now?”
“Fifteen,” Asriel said.
Fifteen years? You’ve been gone fifteen year?
You sniffled as you pulled away. You held Asriel’s face taking in every detail you saw. He had Sindri’s eyes no doubt, but then again his eyes were the same colors as yours.
“My beautiful baby boy,” you whispered, “I am so sorry, I promise I am not going anywhere this time.”
“It’s not your fault mom. Dad told me... You did it to protect us,” Asriel said. You shook your head yes, holding back a sob. You looked back over at Sindri.
“You did a good job,” you said.
“I tried,” Sindir sniffled as he hugged both of you tightly. He was happy to have his wife back.
“Come, I’m sure you have much to tell me,” you said as you pulled away from the two. You stood up slowly.
“Sorry to interrupt but take this Y/n, it’ll help with the after affects of the nightmare thistle,” Freya offered you a cup with a dark blue liquid.
“Thank you Freya,” you hummed as you took the cup from her.
“Uh, hi, I’m Atreus.”
You looked over to see a boy the same age as Asriel.
“Atreus, hello, I haven’t seen you since you were a baby,” you smiled. Asriel gently grabbed your hand and brought you over to the table were Atreus was.
“Huh? You mean-?” Atreus started.
“Yes, your mother was so excited for me to meet you, of course at the time I was still pregnant with Asriel,” you said as you and Asriel sat down. Asriel held your hand tightly, you knew he wasn’t letting go any time soon.
You talked for hours with Asriel, Astreus, Sindri and sometimes the others would join in.
Asriel had started leaning against you. You could tell he was starting to get tired.
“Come on, lets get you to bed,” you hummed.
“But... I wanna keep talking...,” Asriel mummbled.
“We will have plenty of time to talk after you rest,” you said.
“Can you... tuck me.. in?” Asriel asked.
“Of course,” you hummed.
Asriel brought you to his room.
“I see you don’t take after your father’s cleanliness,” you laughed softly.
“Yeah... I don’t let him in here,” Asriel chuckled. Asriel pulled the covers back as he almost instantly flopped into bed. You smiled softly as you pulled the blanket over him.
“Sleep well my baby boy,” you whispered and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you too mom,” Asriel hummed. You smiled as you stepped out of his room. You headed back downstairs. Sindri was the only one left. He was sitting at the table.
“Are you okay my dear?” you asked as you sat down next to him. He looked at you with tears in his eyes.
“I’m... just so happy you’re okay,” he whispered,” that you’re here. that you’re alive. And... I’m so... so sorry... I didn’t... we didn’t. I’m sorry we couldn’t get to you sooner.”
“Do not apologize, I didn’t even know where I was,” you said as you gently grabbed his hands. “It’s going to be okay, we’re going to be okay.”
“I know,” Sindri hummed,” I’m tired, are you tired?”
“Very, lets get to bed, and tomorrow we can have a fresh start,” you said.
“Yes, a fresh start,” Sindri agreed.
#god of war#gow#gow sindri#god of war fanfiction#god of war ragnarok#x reader#god of war x reader#god of war sindri#sindri#Sindri gow
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youtube
Time Machine
Happy Mondays - Kinky Afro
On the 8th October 1990, Happy Mondays released, Kinky Afro, the second single to be taken from their forthcoming third album Pills 'n' Thrills and Bellyaches which they shared on the 5th November 1990. The lead single being Step On which came out in March 1990, they released a further two sinlges from the album in 1991, Loose Fit and Bob's Yer Uncle as a promo disc but only in American. The Happy Monday were part of the Madchester Baggy scene. At the time their line up was Shaun Ryder on vocals, brother Paul Ryder on the bass guitar, Mark Day on the guitar, Paul Davis on keyboards, Gary Whelan on the drums and the wonderful Bez on dancing!!
Kinky Afro was released as a 7" single (two tracks), 12" single (two tracks both extended versions) and as a three track CD single. It peaked on the UK charts at number 3, it was the band's biggest hit in the United States, reaching number one on the US Billboard Modern Rock Tracks chart.
This music video was produced and directed by Keith Jobling of the Bailey Brothers. The song was originally going to be called Groovy Afro, but was changed to Kinky Afro after Liverpool band The Farm released a similarly named song titled Groovy Train earlier in 1990.
Son, I'm 30
I only went with your mother 'cause she's dirty
And I don't have a decent bone in me
What you get is just what you see, yeah
I see it so, I take it greedy
And all the bad piss ugly things I feed me
I never help or give to the needy
Come on and see me
Yippee-ippee-ay-ay-ay-yey-yey
I had to crucify some brother today
And I don't dig what you gotta say
So come on and say it
Come on and tell me twice
I said, "Dad, you're a shabby
You run around and groove like a baggy
You're only here just out of habit
Oh, it's mine, you might as well have it
You take ten feet back and then stab it
Spray it on and tag it"
So sack on me
I can't stand the needy
Get around here when you're put off your feeding
Yippee-ippee-ay-ay-ay-yey-yey
I had to crucify somebody today
And I don't dig what you gotta say
So come on and say it
Come on and tell me twice
So sack all the needy
I can't stand to leave it
You come around here, and you puff up your feeding
Yippee-ippee-ay-ay-ay-yey-yey
I had to crucify somebody today
And I don't dig what you gotta say
So go on and say it
Yippee-ippee-ay-ay-ay-yey-yey
I had to crucify some brother today
And I don't hear what you gotta say
So come on and say it
And come on and tell me twice
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The Better Man, Chapter 3
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist
Read in AO3 here
Contents/Warnings: Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader, flashbacks to Levi’s childhood w/ Kenny, canonverse AOT, angst, prostitution
Suggested Music:
Levi is going to save you.
As a child, he’d promised you that, knowing he was too weak to protect or take care of you. It’s hard to know in The Underground how many years have passed, but he’s older now, and stronger. And he’s tired of seeing you beaten and bruised.
In the darkness, Levi quietly opens his door to sneak across the room. It only takes him a few seconds to sense that Kenny is sitting in the dark waiting for him.
Kenny lights a cigarette, briefly illuminating his grizzled face. “And just where do you think yer goin’?”
Shit. Levi had hoped Kenny would still be out or maybe drunk and asleep. Too late to turn back now. “I’m going to beat the shit out of y/n’s dad and then get her out of there. She’s gonna stay here with me.”
“Oh, you are, are ya?” Kenny says with an amused look on his face. He lights a candle. “And what if I say no?”
“Then…we’ll run away. We don’t need to stay here. We don’t need anyone.”
Kenny laughs. “Whoa…big talk for such a shortie,” he pulls out a knife and throws it at Levi’s feet, “I’ll make you a deal: if you can stab me with that knife - even just one little scratch - I’ll let you go get her and she can stay with us.”
The room is quiet for a few moments, then in a flash Levi has the knife and is lunging toward Kenny. He dodges, ending up behind Levi and kicking him in the backside. “Come on,” Kenny goads, “that all you got?”
Levi is quick to recover, takes a deep breath, and recovers his stance. Remembering what Kenny taught him, he keeps his left hand up towards his face while his right hand is holding the knife, the tip pointed at Kenny. He slashes and Kenny dodges again but Levi quickly jabs towards his left. Kenny grabs his arm and pins it to his side, his other hand gripping his shoulder.
“You think you’re strong? That a snot-nosed teenager like you can protect her?” He pushes Levi away, “What a joke.”
Levi gets back in stance, sweat running down his face. “I don’t care what you say. I’m gonna save her.”
“Oooh, sounds like my little Levi is in love,” Kenny grins, “or are you just wanting to get laid? She does look like she’d be a sweet piece of ass.”
Infuriated, Levi springs forward with a huge slash of his knife. Kenny catches Levi’s wrist, and twists his arms behind him, putting him in a lock. He pushes Levi into a wall and pulls up on his arm. Excruciating pain shoots through his body and Levi drops the knife.
“Now, that last move was emotional. You are in love with her” Kenny laughs, then turns Levi around and pulls him up by his collar. “Listen here, Levi: love ain’t shit around here. It’ll get you killed in two seconds,” he throws Levi down. “Was love enough to save your mom? Huh? Did it keep her from dyin’?” He scowls. “Love isn’t a strength: it’s a distraction and a weakness to be exploited. The longer you pine for that girl, the weaker you’ll get. And I taught you better than that.”
Levi looks down at the knife, but doesn’t pick it up. He knew Kenny was right. Love doesn’t save people: strength and power does. He needs to focus. Get stronger.
“Goddammit, Levi, it’s too early in the morning for this bullshit,” Kenny picks up the knife. “But I guess all boys go through this phase. Now get your ass back to bed.”
———-
Levi watches through his office window as you get into the carriage to return to Trost. There are papers strewn about the desk and the rooms still smells of your sex - the last remaining remnants of your short moments together. He opens the window and puts his files in order.
He shouldn’t have given in to his desire for you, but since that evening at the welcome party, all his suppressed memories of you have resurfaced. He’d tried so hard to forget you these past few years, consistently telling himself that what he did was for your good. He’d always promised to protect you, and in his mind, leaving you was the only way he could do that.
Originally, he’d planned on finding you once the job of killing Erwin and obtaining the documents had been accomplished. He, Isabelle, and Farlan would be free and you all would create new lives for yourselves above ground.
But that all changed when he saw Isabelle and Farlan die. The last few years in The Underground, he’d been so confident in his strength and abilities. But life above ground and fighting the titans showed him that it wasn’t enough. His decisions had cost him everything: you, Farlan, and Isabelle. He had nothing.
When Erwin gave him that choice and challenged him to live a life without regretting his decisions, Levi knew he couldn’t just trust in his own strength. His eyes were no longer clouded.
Like Kenny had said, love was a distraction.
He reminded himself of those words as he cleaned up his office. He won’t regret the decision of letting you go and staying with the Survey Corps. Humanity needs him and you have someone new to love.
———-
“Levi…where have you been? I haven’t seen you in months.”
Kenny is leaning against a wall a short distance away, watching both of you. Levi needs to get you out of here before it starts. “Busy. I don’t really have time to talk right now,” he says as he walks away.
But you follow him. “Ok…but I wanted to tell you that I’ve been lying to my dad about some extra money I’ve been getting from customers. If I keep saving that and maybe pickpocket a few things, I’ll have enough money to go above ground.” She looks at you, expectantly. “In a few years, we can finally get out of here”
Levi looks around. There’s movement in the alley behind him and it puts him on alert. “Look, I really can’t talk about this right now. Go back home and I’ll come by later.”
“Levi, why are you…”
“LEVI!” a voice booms from behind you. A huge body lunges at you both and he pushes you away as hard as he can.
Lately, Levi has felt an incredible amount of power surging through his body and no one has been able to stand against him. Kenny has sensed this, and decided that Levi needs to challenge every neighborhood kingpin and lowlife they can find. They’d been preparing for this altercation, but he wasn’t expecting you to be here.
Still learning to control his power, he’d pushed you harder than he’d wanted, and you slammed against a wall.
As you lay on the ground, Levi yells out to you, and his adversary uses the distraction to throw a punch. It knocks Levi over, but he’s back up in an instant and uses his momentum to punch the man in the stomach. While he’s doubled over, Levi grabs his shoulders and knees him hard in the head. The giant man falls down on the ground with a loud thud, and Levi is on top of him, kicking him in the face and throat.
Blood is pouring from the man’s nose and mouth, and he’s barely conscious. Levi takes out his knife and grabs the man by the collar. “This is my turf now. Do you understand, idiot?”
A crowd has formed around the commotion as Kenny watches from a distance. Levi looks up to see him tip his hat and then walk away. He calls out to him, but he doesn’t look back.
Levi knew he wouldn’t return. After all this time, Kenny was just abandoning him to navigate this world alone. This hurt him more than he was expecting, and anger surged through him.
By this time, you’d gotten off the ground and pushed through the crowd to get to Levi. “Levi! Are you ok?” you say as you hug him.
He felt anger at Kenny for leaving him and guilt for hurting you. He didn’t know how to deal with these feelings, and so he expressed himself the only way he knew how: with force.
“Get away from me, y/n,” he says as he pushes you away. “I don’t…need you.”
He runs off, leaving you standing there, stunned, among the crowd.
———
“Captain, Commander Erwin said I needed you to sign these leave of absence forms,” Lars says, handing Levi the papers. “I’ll be taking a few days off for the wedding.”
Levi takes the papers and gets out his fountain pen. He’d been trying not to think about this moment the past few days, but the wedding was tomorrow. “I was wondering when you were going to get these to me. The rest of the squad has already put in leave for tomorrow.”
Lars scratches his head innocently. “Yeah..I’ve never been too good with paperwork. And thank you, for giving the squad the day to attend the wedding. It means a lot to me that you’ll all be there.”
“We’ll miss a whole day of training but I guess it can’t be helped. It’s not every day a Survey Corps member gets married,” Levi clears his throat. “But I’m sorry, Lars, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. I have some meetings to attend that can’t be rescheduled,” Levi hands the forms over to Lars. “Please give my best to your fiancée.”
“Oh…” Lars says with disappointment in his voice, but he quickly changes his tone, “of course, you’re a busy man, Captain. I’ll relay your message to y/n,” he salutes. “Sir,” then turns to leave Levi’s office.
It had gone back and forth in Levi’s mind whether to go to the wedding or not, but in the end, even though he knows it’s for the best, he just doesn’t want to see you walk down that aisle. He’ll give Erwin some kind of excuse and that’ll be the end of it.
—
“Absolutely not,” Erwin says to Levi, while eating in the canteen with the other officers. “You need to be there for your subordinate.”
“Erwin, I have a mountain of paperwork to finish. Not that I like doing that bullshit work, but it needs to be done.”
“And it will be there when you come back later tomorrow evening,” Erwin put his hand on Levi’s shoulder. “Levi, it’s important to share these life events with your squad. Besides, there will probably be a reception afterwards. You should let yourself have a little fun every once in a while.”
Levi shrugs Erwin’s hand off his shoulder. “So you’re ordering me to have fun?”
Erwin sighs and rolls his eyes. “Only to you would I have to give an order like that. Two people have found love - shouldn’t that be celebrated?”
—---
Farlan walks over to Levi and places the protection money he collected from businesses around the neighborhood on the table. “Her father died recently. Did you hear about that?”
Levi knows exactly what “her” he means. He hadn’t seen you in maybe one or two years and he’d avoided going to your part of town. Every once in a while he’d be tempted to check on you, but he had enough on his plate. “I didn’t,” Levi says, counting the money.
“Yeah, I heard it’s been rough for her. Her father owed a bunch of money and she’s been left with the debt.” he sighs and sits on the sofa. “Apparently she’s started working at The Thirsty Poet brothel.”
At this, Levi stops counting and looks up at Farlan. “She’s what?”
“Not much else for a young woman to do in that situation anyway, right?” Farlan looks up to see Levi grabbing his jacket and walking out the door.
—
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going??”
Levi ignores the pimp at the entrance and storms upstairs. Patrons and prostitutes scream as he kicks open every door to look for you. Finally, you’re found at the end of the hall: you’ve just taken off your blouse and a man is taking off his pants next to the bed.
“Who the fuck are you?” is the only thing the man can say before Levi punches him in the jaw, rage permeating his whole body. He takes off his jacket and throws it to you. “Put this on,” he commands. He puts some of your other clothes in a leather satchel, grabs your hand, then pulls you downstairs.
The pimp sees you both rushing down the stairs and as you arrive at the door, he blocks the way with his large, muscular arm. “Oi! You’re not taking her anywhere! She’s my property.”
With a quick flip of his wrist, Levi pulls out his knife and stabs it through the bouncer’s hand, sticking it to the doorframe. The man screams out.
“She’s coming with me and you’re going to consider her father’s debts paid. Got it?” His eyes are blazing as he pulls the knife out, blood streaming from the man’s hand.
“Y-yes. W-whatever you say, Levi,” he quivers.
You both walk back to Levi’s apartment, him pulling you the whole way. As it’s also the headquarters of his group, a few are hanging around.
“Everyone get the fuck out,” he orders as he pulls you into his bedroom. He’s breathing hard and his heart is racing. He hasn’t seen you in a while, but his feelings for you haven’t changed. He can’t stand to think that men have been touching you, having their way with you. It infuriates him.
You’re standing in the corner, gripping his jacket around you. As Levi paces the room, he hears a small whispered, “Levi, I’m sorry.”
It’s all he needs to hear, and he’s snapped out of his jealousy. He rushes over and wraps his arms around you hard. “Y/n, it’s my fault. I always said I would protect you.” Levi can feel your tears on his neck as you melt into his arms. He pulls back from you and puts your head in his hands, his grey eyes staring into yours with intensity. “You will never have to do anything like that again. OK? I’ll take care of you.”
In the end, you’re just two teenagers trying to figure out how to survive in this shitty world, but neither of you had to be alone anymore. He pulled you into a deep embrace.
———
The next day, there’s lots of buzz among the Corps regarding the wedding that afternoon. Lars’ open and friendly personality has made him well-liked among the squads, and many are planning on attending the ceremony and reception. By late morning, most have started making their way to Trost in preparation, but Levi stays in his office until the last possible minute. When he can put it off no longer, he puts on his dress uniform and goes to the stable.
It’s a beautiful autumn day and many guests have already gathered in the city public square where the ceremony is to take place. The sun is casting a beautiful glow over the area, which is decorated with flowers and garlands. Even though most of Levi’s squad is sitting towards the front, he decides to sit in the last row, hoping not to gain your attention.
Lars comes out first, walking with his mother and father, who sit down in the front row. Then you enter and everyone stands. Your dress is simple but the bodice is embroidered with flowers and other intricate designs. Your long hair flows down and a crown of flowers sits upon your head. In all the years that he’s known you, Levi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look more beautiful. His eyes follow you as you walk to the front to meet Lars. The vows are said, rings are exchanged, and the ribbon is wrapped around their interlocked hands, as is customary. When the officiate invites them to kiss as husband and wife, Levi finds himself looking away.
The reception is held in the same city square and everyone helps to clear away the chairs and set up the tables and food. People line up to greet the new husband and wife and although Levi would rather not say anything to you, he knows he needs to keep up appearances. As Eld hugs and talks to Lars, Levi moves forward in the line and is face-to-face with you. You awkwardly smile at him.
Others are behind him, so Levi tries to keep his cool by emulating what he’d seen everyone else do when they greeted you; he gently puts his hands on your arms and moves closer, then places a gentle kiss on your left cheek. It’s so fast, but Levi feels you squeeze his biceps just a bit as he pulls away.
“Congratulations,” he says uncomfortably, “I hope you’re happy…uh…I wish you happiness.” He sees a blush form across your face as you look quickly at Lars.
“Thank you, Captain,” you say with a smile, “I wish the same for you,” then you quickly look away to greet the next guest.
As the sun goes down, torches are lit and the party livens up even more. Levi watches as you dance with Lars and others, your face beaming.
“Wow, they look great together, don’t you think, Captain?” a slightly drunk Eld mentions as he sways to the music. “It’s like they were meant for each other.”
“Yeah, they do,” Levi remarks, and he meant it.
—
In the dark, with only the light of the full moon to guide him, Levi rode back to Survey Corps Headquarters. As he walks up the stairs to his room, he unties his cravat and takes off his jacket. Suddenly, all the feelings he’d suppressed throughout the day begin to surface. Emotions he’s no longer accustomed to feeling: frustration, jealousy, longing…
But how did he expect this to end, and how did he expect himself to feel? He knows that if he’d told you to leave Lars and be with him that day in his office you would have done so. But he pushed you away. Again. Just as he’d done so many times before.
He unbuttons his shirt halfway and walks over to the washbasin. As he splashes his face with cold water, flashes of your face come to his mind:
Your smiling, dirty face as you tell him your name the first time he meets you as a boy. Your face at peace as you both slept on your small mattress as children and the same peaceful expression when you slept together as adults. Your eyes, full of love, each time you’d have sex in your apartment in The Underground.
“Love isn’t a strength.”
You were his one weakness, the one thing he couldn’t forget, and the only choice he regretted. He knew that now. He looked at himself in the mirror, anger growing in his heart.
“Fight with the Survey Corps, Levi! Humanity needs your skill.”
He’d given up ever being with you in order to follow Erwin and help lead humanity to freedom. He thought he could forget you and live a life of service - a penance for what happened to Farlan and Isabelle. But does it really make a difference? Why couldn’t he just have a simple life…with you? That’s all he’d ever wanted, and the guilt of that desire is driving him crazy.
He’d pushed you away so many times, and fate had always brought you back together. This time, you were gone for good. You’ll be laying in someone else’s bed tonight, whispering words of love in their ear, touching their body. His breathing becomes heavier as he stares at himself, his resentment for Kenny, Erwin, and even himself expanding like a pressure valve needing to be released.
His fist punches the mirror, shattering it into tiny fragments that fall on the floor and washbasin. He looks at his right hand and sees the blood running down his forearm, but the pain in his heart surpasses any physical pain he might feel.
He takes a few deep breaths to get his thinking straight, then wraps his hand in a rag. He needs to clean up this mess he’s made.
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#levi ackerman#levi heichou#captain levi#levi x you#aot levi#levi ackerman smut#snk fanfiction#myfics#the better man#chapter 3#sailors stories#angst#levi ackerman angst#levi/reader#levi x reader#levi ackerman series#aot fanfiction#attack on titan#eventual smut#love triangle#Spotify#sixpennydame the better man#the better man chapter 3
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📖
If ya get stabbed by somethin', DON'T PULL IT OUT. Not right away anyway.
WH-- WHAT???
So first you'll wanna make sure you got a lotta pressure on the wound. Also try ta lay so that yer feet are elevated an' then the blood flow to the heart increases.
DAD???
CLAY WHAT THE HELL-
EXPLOSIONS AN' SHRAPNEL HAPPEN OKAY???
#pokemon irl#here's the dirt#sig erden#mildred from pr#Mister Mayor#ask#anonymous#TW blood#TW injury
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TIMING: Recent
LOCATION: 12 Mudpuppy Pt.
PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Inge (@nightmaretist)
SUMMARY: Inge pays Wyatt another visit in his dreams and makes him start to doubt his own reality.
CONTENT WARNINGS: none!
—
She had been visiting this particular dreamer with some regularity. Wyatt, he was called — the mustachioed, buff man who dreamed of the bayou and his family and food. It was important to keep going at it, this project. To keep chipping away at the psyche, to keep introducing small doses of nightmarish birds. Inge had been lacking some of her fervor as of late, though, her inspiration running dry as her mind kept circling back to the factory. Her art reflected it and so did her dreams. Still, Wyatt was a steady source of food.
The past two months his nights had featured birds at least weekly. Birds with human teeth. Birds with wings that flapped against his cheeks, that pecked at his skin, a bird that stared at Wyatt as he had nowhere to go. The crowing of crows in his dreams (and, once, in the real world too — betraying her presence) and a hawk crying as it dragged Wyatt up in the sky. She was having fun! She transformed herself into a bird that hadn’t been stabbed to the gut and rattled with paranoia and fed herself as her sleeper grew more restless with each visit.
She had a plan as she appeared into his house (a very nice place, admittedly — she had taken the liberty of peeking into his fridge and walking around his living room a few weeks back). He slept like someone who had a tiring job. Inge didn’t bother to find out what he did in his waking hours, as it didn’t serve her. She just sat down next to his bed, cross legged, and reached for his wrist. Pulling it towards her, she pressed her palm against his (just a gesture — there was no need for special touches) and entered his dreams. For now, she’d remain a bystander. But only for now.
—
The townhouse was nothing extravagant, but it was a step up from the shack in the bayou from when he was a toddler. It was brightly painted, the vibrant hues making the sunlight dance through the air as the gentle breeze rustled sheer curtains in the windows. The smell of gumbo permeated the small living space, drawing the young, sandy-haired boy from his room and sending him bounding down the hall toward the kitchen, his trumpet in hand. He rattled off a string of almost unintelligible cajun french as he went scurrying into the kitchen, rounding the table and leaping onto the step stool that sat beside his mother, who was chopping more ingredients to put in the pot. She responded in kind, scooping him up into a hug and laughing as he blew on the trumpet like she was squeezing him too hard.
His father sat at the kitchen table, wearing an expression that looked both amused and annoyed. “Ya shouldn’t’ah gone n’ gotten the boy such a fool thing,” he reprimanded, waving Wyatt away from him when the child clambered down from his mother’s arms to instead go toot his horn in his dad’s face. “Ah, ya, ya, you’re a real riot, boy! Go learn you a tune or two, why don’t ya?! Somethin’ pretty, not this wacky-dack blastin’ah yer lungs.” The boy gave a comedic bow before hurrying out of the room again, toward the small balcony that overlooked the busy street below. He hopped up onto the iron railing, his back pressed to the wall behind him and lungs filling with air as he lifted the trumpet to his lips.
—
This was why she didn’t long for dreams. Dreams were memories, but twisted. They were wishes, ungranted. They were your unconscious playing tricks with you. Inge knew that if she still dreamed, that she’d dream endlessly of her daughter — that she’d not be able to escape the death the way she managed to avoid thinking of now. Semi-successfully. But in dreams? In dreams you returned to the past or arrived in a parallel future only to wake to the cold world outside. She didn’t miss it. She thought, sometimes, she did people a favor by overtaking their subconscious. Better plagued by a mare than by ones own mind.
So she’d take over Wyatt’s dream soon enough, end this scene of domestic bliss. The trumpet, was that wishful thinking? Something he’d wanted as a child but never gotten? Or was it something fundamental? Perhaps she’d search around his house and find out later. For now Inge followed him to the balcony, appearing in the sky above as a pigeon, diving towards where he sat. Pigeons didn’t move like that, but did it matter? Dreams weren’t reality. The pigeon dove, its eyes flashing red and its hoot echoing darkly as it pecked at the fingers on the trumpet, demanding the child-version of Wyatt let it go, wings flapping aggressively. Another bird landed on the railing, also eyeing the trumpet hungrily. Another was bound to follow.
—
He’d only played a few notes when a pigeon came out of nowhere and dive-bombed him, forcing him to yelp in surprise and kick out with a foot. “Hey! Arrêtez !” The boy swung with the trumpet, but the birds were both now pecking angrily at his fingers and he dropped it, watching fearfully as it fell to the street below. “Non ! Regarde ce que tu as fait, stupide oiseau !” His balance on the railing failed him, but he fell backwards onto the little patio with a cry for help, still kicking and flailing as more birds descended upon him. “Mama! Mama!” came Wyatt’s tearful wails as he tried to scramble back to his feet and retreat back into the apartment. The birds followed.
Sprinting through the small home, he headed straight for the kitchen. His mother still stood at the stove, ignoring his cries. His father still sat at the table, and he was sprouting a few errant feathers that definitely did not belong there.
“Mama! Help!” She looked at Wyatt, her gaze unusually dark and cold.
“Such a disappointment,” she ground out, and he felt his heart sink.
“Mama, the birds—” They were on him again, snapping their beaks and ripping holes into his clothing, and his parents just watched. His father had wings now instead of arms, and was getting up from his chair. He let out a thunderously loud caw like a crow, his black feathers gleaming in the glow of a light that was no longer the sun.
—
The French – different from the one she’d spoken in Nice, Paris and Arles – fell off the young version of Wyatt’s lips and Inge considered shoving him off the balcony, making him fall and fall until he’d forget what landing even was. But he ran back into the house and she followed with the rest of her birds, letting the fear fill her. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a nice little taste, a little starter to the meal she was anticipating.
Her past dreams must have left an impression, with the way the father sprouted wings and beaks, and Inge let that run its course. She considered it part of her installation, a side-effect of the repetitive dreams. She focused on the mother, so cold and so steady, and made herself one with her body.
She clapped her motherly hands and the birds halted, freezing in the air. Wyatt’s mother, who was really just Inge at this point, bent towards the boy as if she was going to say something very important. The birds all watched her move down, obedient. As if it was always her who’d controlled them.
She opened her mouth and on her tongue laid a baby bird, its talons clutching onto her teeth. Still slick from whatever egg it had crawled from, cawing at its brother. It left its ‘nest’, leaving scratches on the mother’s/Inge’s mouth and reaching with its claws for Wyatt’s eyes. She clapped once more and the birds were on him, furious and relentless.
They continued until it went dark and Inge allowed Wyatt to wake in his bed.
—
His little heart thundered in his chest and he wanted to scream, he wanted to wail with all of his might, but he couldn’t. There was no air in his lungs to carry the sound. So he just watched, shivering like he was freezing to death, as his mother leaned toward him. The kindness that always curved her lips into a smile and crinkled the corners of her eyes was gone, leaving only hollowness in its wake. He whimpered, his bright blue gaze dropping to her mouth as it opened. The sight of the chick had his face twisted up with fear, but it wasn’t until the thing reached for his eyes that he found his voice. He shrieked, falling to the floor as the birds made a feast of him, ripping him like tissue paper—
Bolting upright in his bed, Wyatt gasped for air. His chest heaved with each breath, sweat dotting his brow. It took a moment for the lamia to regain his senses, to come back to the present. He was fine. He was home, in Maine, in his own bed. Grown. Not a boy, not being attacked by— “Birds. Fuckin’ birds,” he growled to himself, running a hand over his face. The man swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got up, meandering toward the bathroom to splash some water on his face. As he flicked on the light and approached the counter, his confident stride faltered.
A lone, black feather sat in the sink.
Fear began to creep in from the edges, starting up a ringing sound in his ears. No. He was seeing things, surely. There was no way an errant feather had somehow made its way into his home. Picking it up and spinning it between his thumb and index finger, he realized… it was quite real. “What the fuck.”
—
A dream within a dream. Sanne used to pull this trick on her, back when she’d still sleep. She’d make Inge dream of horrifying scenes only to have her wake up in her not-bed, in her not-bedroom and next to her not-husband. Sometimes not-Hendrik would become monstrous and cruel. Sometimes he’d melt into a bloody, ugly substance and leak through the sheets, pool all around her. Sometimes not-Vera would cry but be nowhere to be found. All until she’d wake, tangled in sheets, her husband disgruntled at her gasping for air.
It was a cruel trick, but it worked. It was the scariest thing of all, wasn’t it? The idea that there was no escape. That every door opened to another room to be stuck in, that no matter how hard you ran you didn’t move an inch. It was how life was, in and outside of sleep. That was what Inge believed, any way — there was no outrunning her nature and the risks that came attached to it, the hunters that nipped at her heels and the dread that rumbled within her.
She let Wyatt awaken and stumble from his bed. She let him believe it was as simple as this, as waking in the middle of the night because of a cruel subconscious — but there was the hint of it being a dream, still. A feather in the sink, a bird in the bathroom window, an owl hooting far away. Something stirred in the drain. A bird’s beak clicked underneath, one oily, shiny eye staring through the holes, leathery wings stroking the porcelain within. It moved, its beak gripping the screw that put the drain in place and starting to turn it. If Wyatt were to listen closely, there’d be more beaks clicking merrily. Further down the drain. Waiting.
—
It was like watching a wreck happen. You were fearful, aghast, and yet you could not look away. Wyatt’s piercing gaze was fixed downward at the drain cover, the shiny eye staring back up at him as its owner slowly backed one of the screws out. More clacking beaks could be heard beyond the one at the front, and the lamia’s heart leaped into his throat while his stomach sank at the same time.
You’re still asleep. You’re still fucking asleep, you need to wake up! Even though he knew he was still dreaming, that did nothing to detract from the horror that was building up inside of him. In fact it only added to it, because he’d been so certain he was awake… Backing away from the sink, the shifter fumbled with the door a moment before slamming it shut and looking back to his bed.
Wake up. Please, fuck, just wake up. He continued to back up through the room, right into the glass sliding doors that faced the trees. He could hear the birds in the drain start to escape, hear the clink clink clink of the screws getting kicked around in the sink by little bird feet, hear the flap of wings as they took to the air, hear the thud of their bodies against the door like they thought they could break it down with sheer force. Wyatt grasped at the door handle and ripped it open, stumbling into the cold dark of the night in little more than his underwear, heart beating like a war drum. “Fuck off!” he bellowed in the general direction of his bathroom, which of course, only attracted the attention of more avians that were outside… filling the trees around his house, perched on his roof like a blanket of feathers and beaks and claws, even lining the railing of his outdoor deck.
If any of them moved so much as an inch, he was shifting. He’d tear them the fuck apart, even if this was just a dream. Maybe that would wake him up.
—
There was something stirring within him to try and wake but she held onto him a little longer, continuing to push the sounds and images of the birds. Wyatt was a success story. Inge was certain he’d dream of birds even after she’d moved on from him. She was an impressive woman like that, memorable in her terror. She saw it as a point of pride, even if it wasn’t always like that.
She used to despise having to make people afraid. To give fear while she was still reeling with her own terror. She used to hate this part within her that could create horrifying things in concert with someone’s subconscious, knitting together memory and fantasy to make something that could feed her for days. But to learn an art was hard work. The first years of picking up drawing was no walk in the park either, and so it went for nightmares. She’d learned to draw and sculpt and paint just as she’d learned to revel in her terrorizing.
A bird knocked on the window with its beak, like the robin in an old Dutch nursery rhyme had done. It knocked, just to see how far she could push her sleeper, and it were her own red eyes that were in the bird’s head, watching Wyatt with bated breath. In dreams, she did breathe, as in dreams she was alive.
—
His chest was heaving, fear gripping him in a way it never really had before. He was forgetting that this was a dream, falling deeper into the hallucination as his gaze met the burning red stare of the bird on the windowsill.
As with all things, when the lamia felt cornered or threatened, he responded with violence. He let out a bellowing shout, his body morphing as he charged at the fucking thing, smashing into the glass snout-first, jaws snapping and gnashing.
And just like that, the creature was in bed again, twisted up in shredded sheets, the bed frame groaning beneath the weight of his shifted form as he woke up for a second time. Wyatt thrashed among the soft linens in a fit of fear, throwing himself from the bed and continuing the rampage against the bedding from where he collapsed onto the floor. His pupils were narrow slits, reptilian claws raking through the sheets and tearing them into little pieces. He felt trapped in his own mind. How could he be sure he wasn’t still dreaming?
Outside, a crow cried. Wyatt froze up, breathing heavily, his thick tail thumping loudly against the floor as it slid off of the mattress. His yellow gaze darted to the unshattered window.
The crow cried again.
The lamia whimpered.
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Blunt Force Marijuana - Niiice. | Bad Habits - FIDLAR | Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood | Stab Yer Dad - Spoonboy
#strange communication#ts4#gunther munch#wolfgang munch#lucas munch#happy father's day. kids who grew up to be their dads how we feeling today?#I might do something for the good dads later but I'm gonna nap first I was up all night bc of a tornado 😪
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AS IT WAS. TWD S5. [snippet]
AS IT WAS - HOZIER
TWD + Dixon!reader [S5 SPOILERS]
“So, Kit, is it?” Her frame stood awkwardly, bow and arrow holster around her shoulder, still armed to the teeth. Her dirt-covered fingernail tapped on a ceramic sculpture sat on a clean wood side table, refusing to sit on the furniture:
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I understand what you’ve been through has been hard—” She could have laughed.
THERE IS A ROADWAY, MUDDY AND FOXGLOVED. NEVER I’D HAD LIFE ENOUGH.
“Ya got no fuckin’ clue, really…ma’am.” Kit did this often, blame her dad, blame Merle but she had a way of being snappy and then bandaging it with formalities. What Deanna was aiming at could have been her life before the shit went down, or during, Kit couldn’t tell but applied her statement to both lives.
“Why don’t you tell me about it?” She pursed her lips into a thin line. Kit beat her thigh with her fist a few times, walking to stare out the window:
“No, thanks.” Deanna nodded, and followed her. Standing a few feet away from her, Kit’s shoulders tensed, hand itching for a knife.
“Have you always been with Rick’s group? Your dad?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Where were you when this happened?” Kit debated telling her the truth or a group of lies. She frowned slightly, repositioning the bow across her body.
“It was me, my dad n’ uncle. We found Rick’s group.” Deanna squinted her eyes the tiniest bit and Kit wanted to sigh heavily through her nose.
“And what happened to your uncle?” Stone replaced Kit’s features, she hardened her face, going still for a moment. She thought of Merle. She thought of the Governor. She replayed how he murdered her uncle. And how she responded by putting an arrow through his skull.
“Yeah missy, what happened to lil’ ole me?” Merle stood in the corner of the room, though this time for her hallucination, there was a bleeding bullet hole in his chest. Shit.
“All you did was arrive on scene, huh? Never saw what happened?” His smirk was something she missed, although he’s a walking dumpster fire of a person, Kit did miss her uncle. Her eyes narrowed to see the extent of the wound of his chest, wanting to walk over and see it further.
“All you saw was yer daddy sobbin’, and me.” Kit looked at his face and it was that of a walker. Skin grey, stabbed, bloodied and decaying. Eyes clouded with white, and jaw unhinged. A guttural growl came out of his mouth as he took a step forward to his niece, and Kit visibly flinched.
“Kit.” The voice of Deanna made her head snap up.
“Are you alright—?”
“Yes…ma’am.” Inhaling harshly through her nose, she pinched between her eyes and her face twitched.
“Where were you?” Kit shook her head, scratching her neck.
“Not here, fer a second—"
“No dear, where were you after Rick’s group?” Static filled her deaf ear at that question, opening her memory bank.
“Are you fuckin crazy, Don!”
“We don’t have a choice!” A cocking of a rifle fixed upon Kit’s ears, as she switched weapons. Don ran onto the grass in front of the house with said rifle and swiveled, looking right at her crouched position on the roof.
“Dix, light it up!”
“Kit?”
Hustling down the ladder and in through the back door, her boots thumped against the wood floor, following the noise of many voices. Kit burst into the room everyone was held in, hollering:
“Everybody out and into the bunker!” The new people jumped at her sudden appearance.
“But the—” Glenn started but was quickly shushed. Lifting up her helmet to expose her face, wide-eyed and scowling, she screamed:
“You deaf, man? Move it! NOW!”
She sighed, rubbing her hand down her oily and dirt crusted face.
“I was separated from ‘em. Didn’t seem ‘em for a while…An’ then I did.”
“Rule number 6, you wanna go anywhere, do anything on this property, you go through Dix. No poking around. She says what goes.” Now that shocked some people. A Dixon being the leader? No shot in hell.
“That’ll be the day…reporting to a Dixon.” Shane muttered and Kit heard him loud and clear.
“But, where were you? Who were you with—”
“Can I go?” Deanna was a little shocked by her sudden mood shift to leave but felt she had badgered the poor girl enough. Letting her out of the room, Kit’s strides were wide and fast as she heard the camera click off behind her.
The muddy, bloody boots of Kit echoed, as she practically stormed out of the house they held the interview in. Reaching the front porch, she went to the banister and folded her arms onto it, dropping her forehead onto them.
She banged her head on her forearms a few times before taking a gulp of air, standing straight up and putting both hands onto the banister, exhaling shakily.
She still felt blood on her hands.
HOW LONG YOU WOULD WAIT FOR ME? HOW LONG I’VE BEEN AWAY?
#TWD#twd x reader#twd oc#rick grimes#merle dixon#daryl dixon#glenn rhee#shane walsh#amc twd#carl grimes#twd x teen reader
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