levi x reader / strangers to lovers / modern au / sfw / 487 w.
⟡ — @flufftober (alt 3)
levi’s just trying to finish his errands. it’s quiet in the parking lot — early evening, breeze cold enough to sting a little, no one around but a few cars and the hum of a vending machine. he likes it that way.
or he did, until something soft brushes against his boot.
he looks down. white fur. tiny face. a flash of pink around its middle.
“what the—”
the little creature blinks up at him, nose twitching, like he’s the intruder. she circles his shoe once, sniffs his pant leg, then promptly climbs onto his boot. levi just stares.
“you lost?” he mutters.
the ferret doesn’t answer. of course it doesn’t but instead wriggles straight toward the open grocery bag by his feet. he reacts fast, catching her by the harness before she disappears into his groceries.
“tch. bold little thing”
he holds her up, pink harness and all, dangling like a thief caught red-handed. she just blinks at him again, unbothered.
“what kind of idiot loses you in a parking lot?” he sighs, scanning the area.
she’s light in his hands, warm, small heartbeat tapping against his palm. he tells himself he’s only holding her so she doesn’t bolt again but when she tucks her nose against his sleeve, he pauses.
…yeah, great. now he’s holding a ferret.
he waits. a few people glance his way — one little kid whispers, “mom, that man has a snow weasel” levi pretends not to hear.
then, footsteps. quick, uneven. a voice calling, breathless: “mittens? mittens!”
he turns just as you come running around the corner — eyes wide, clearly panicked — and you stop dead when you see him.
“you lose this?” levi asks, voice even but low.
your shoulders sag with relief. “oh my god, yes! you found her!”
“she jumped into my bag” he says, like he still doesn’t quite believe it. “thought i was getting mugged by a sock”
you laughed and the sound does something weird in his chest. “she’s… adventurous”
“she’s a menace” he mutters, passing her to you carefully.
you take her, adjusting the pink harness, and smile up at him. “thank you. seriously. i was terrified she’d get hurt.”
“she’s fine” he says, watching the way the ferret curls into your arm, still looking at him. “too bold to get hurt”
you chuckle softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “well… at least let me thank you properly. dinner, maybe? i owe you one”
levi pauses — not expecting that.
“it’s just takeout” you add quickly. “nothing fancy. i make good stir-fry”
“…you cook?”
“better than she behaves” you say, nodding toward the ferret.
he exhales through his nose, but there’s a small, reluctant curve at his mouth. “fine. as long as the ferret stays off the table”
“no promises” you grin.
mittens chitters like she agrees, and for once, levi doesn’t mind the interruption.
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Prompt: Day 5: Early Morning Walks + Alternate #3: Lost Pet Meet Cute
Characters: Terry the Terrific x Fem!Reader
Word Count: <1.2K
Content Warning: None.
A/N: It felt wrong to refer to Terry’s new co-star as Little Terry, so I deviated a bit. Divider by @saradika-graphics. Event and prompts by @flufftober. Written and edited on my phone; any and all mistakes are my own.
Flufftober 2025 Masterlist || Previous || Next
He’s going to kill Howard.
Not really, not after everything with his mom. But this was certainly pushing his limits.
Terry Junior is gone—vanished—and not in the magical way.
He had been practicing with the young dove in the safety of his mom’s living room, when Howard came wandering in.
“Hey, buddy. How’s little TJ?” he asked, stepping a little too close for comfort and eyeing the small white bird.
Terry took a half-step back, the dove firmly in his grasp. “He’s fine.”
Howard just nodded thoughtfully before looking around the room. “Boy, it’s hot in here, huh?” he mumbled, moving over towards the window.
“Yeah, I guess,” Terry replied, though he wasn’t paying attention. He slipped Terry Junior inside his cape, to the pouch that once held Little Terry. He’s still saddened by that loss, but there’s nothing that can be done now except continue training his new co-star.
Howard left the room after a moment, leaving Terry to his own devices, except that when he did the dove toss, which took a little extra coercion, the bird flew right out the now-open window.
His heart stopped.
Terry stood there horrified for a moment, eyes wide and mouth agape as he stared at the open window and into the pitch black darkness of the night. His mouth went dry.
“HOWARD!” he bellowed when he finally came to his senses.
“Your mom is sleeping, buddy, can you keep it down?”
Now, Terry is wandering around in the middle of the night looking for a bird—how do you search for a bird outdoors—furious at Howard and trying not to think of ways he could kill him.
The night went by quickly, and before he realized it, the sun was popping up over the horizon and illuminating the tree-lined streets of his mother’s neighborhood. There hadn’t been a single sign of Terry Junior all night.
He runs a shaky hand through his hair for the hundredth time, which is no longer neatly combed after a long night of worry. He’s sure his makeup is also smudged at this point, having rubbed his face once or twice in frustration, and he would be surprised if he didn’t look like an absolute madman wandering in the street in the early morning light.
He’s just about ready to give up for the morning, completely exhausted from lack of sleep, when he spots you rounding the street corner.
You’re wearing an oversized hoodie, one hand stuffed in the pocket to keep it warm in the cool air, while the other holds a granola bar. You have a small smile on your face as you chew, eyes focused on the ground for moment before finally taking in your surroundings.
You stop in your tracks when you spot him standing in the middle of the road—he can’t blame you, he can only imagine how insane he looks right now. A cool breeze ruffles his cape slightly, making him shiver.
Would you help him? He hesitates, not sure if he should bother you. But something in his gut tugs at him and his feet are pulling him towards you before he can stop himself.
“Excuse me,” he says nervously as he approaches. Your eyebrows raise slightly, seemingly interested in what he has to say. “This may sound strange, but you haven’t seen Terry Junior, have you? My…friend Howard left the window open and now he’s gone.”
Before you can respond, he pulls out his phone quickly, realizing you have no idea who he’s even talking about.
Your eyes widen slightly, a small frown pulling on the corners of your lips. “What does he look like? Do you have any pictures?”
Terry nods and finally finds a picture of him with the young bird on the day he got him. He had given it a few weeks to mourn Little Terry, but he eventually needed to begin training a new dove for the act.
Howard was kind enough to go with him that day, offering his support. He even took the picture—Terry holding his new friend in his hands as he smiles at the camera.
“He’s so young,” Terry whispers, his voice full of worry. “I don’t think he knows his way home yet.” He turns the screen to you and watches as your face changes subtly, almost relief at the realization the man in front of you is looking for a bird and not a child.
“I’ll help you find him,” you say, meeting his gaze. You smile softly at him, making his chest tighten. He swallows hard, unsure he can even speak, so he just nods and turns to continue looking around.
You go off separately, spreading out to search more ground and eventually rounding another street corner. After a while, Terry realizes he hasn’t seen you and decides to head in the direction he last saw you walking.
As he rounds the same corner, his eyes land on you and the sight makes him pause. There you are, standing near a tall wooden fence, Terry Junior safely in hand.
He rushes over without another thought, his hands outstretched before he even fully makes it to you.
Your hands are soft and a little cold in the morning air as his wrap around yours, gently taking Terry Junior from your grasp. He breathes a sigh of relief, carefully slipping the dove back into the pouch in his cape.
“Thank you so much,” Terry says, his gaze meeting yours. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.”
“Of course,” you say with a shrug like you didn’t just save his entire act. “I’m glad we were able to find him.”
He smiles softly at you, his mind racing. “I’m Terry, by the way,” he says, offering his hand. You take it without hesitation, small and definitely cold, before sticking it back in your hoodie pocket.
“I figured,” you say with a light laugh before introducing yourself. “Tell Howard to close the window next time.”
The corners of Terry’s lips twitch just slightly. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so exhausted. “Oh, he’ll be hearing from me.”
A moment passes where his mouth opens and closes, fighting the urge to say something else, wanting to thank you properly somehow. His hands are suddenly sweaty and he’s all too aware of how pretty you look in the morning light.
Then suddenly—“Can I take you to dinner? As a thank you. And…and a show, front row.”
Your eyebrows raise, lips parting as a small blush flushes your cheeks. “That’s not necessary.”
“Please,” he insists. “It’s the least I can do.”
You hesitate for a moment, but something in his eyes grabs your attention. “Yes,” you agree softly. “Let’s do it.”
He smiles—a real smile—and stands up straighter as the nerves in his stomach die down momentarily. “Wonderful. I owe you so much for this.”
You return his smile, anticipation already building for how the evening will go. “Let’s start with dinner and see how it goes. Come on, let’s get Terry Junior home before the rest of the neighborhood wakes up.”
The metal chair squeaks and creaks when you sit down. It’s cold - autumn has settled over Bludhaven, drifted in with the clouds lingering overhead - and the chill seeps through the denim on your legs. You take a bracing sip of your latte and, though it burns the tip of your tongue, like always, it warms the chill on your bones and gives you goosebumps.
You're so distracted by the myriad of cars zooming down the street and the leaves fluttering down to the ground from the branches of the mid-sized tree behind you that you don’t notice the dog sniffing at your ankles until its wet nose brushes against your skin.
“Oh!” You gasp, flinching your foot away. You peer down to see a blue nose pitbull nosing at your shoes, tail wagging enthusiastically. Big eyes blink at you and you can’t help but to smile in return. “Hi, baby! Hi! Where’d you come from?”
You reach down and offer your palm and wrist for a sniff test. You seem to pass when the pit nudges against your hand for sorely needed pets. Dangling around its neck is a collar – black with an electric blue tag. Your first thought is that the owner might be a Chargers fan doomed to live in New Jersey, but when the tag dangles and turns to show a Nightwing symbol, the colors make way more sense.
Craning your neck to and fro, you don’t see anyone running down the sidewalk in search of an errant dog. You grasp the tag between your fingers while the dog sniffs toward your face and attempts to get in close for a lick or two.
HALEY
1013 PARKTHORNE AVE 3A
BLUDHAVEN, NJ
XXX-XXX-XXXX
“Is that your name? Are you Haley?” You ask the pitbull whimpering and shimmying in front of you. The dog can’t answer, obviously, but it’s just weird and almost rude when others don’t speak to their pets. “You’re lucky it’s my day off, pup. We’ve gotta get you home.”
The address leads to a brownstone building. An informed common sense guess tells you that the 3A on the tag is probably the apartment in question, so you take the stairs up to the third floor and only spare a momentary prayer that the owner isn’t a weirdo. Though, you imagine that an owner who takes care of a good pup like Haley can’t be that bad. Hopefully.
You hesitate at the door, palms sweating at the thought of knocking, until Haley wiggles and whimpers in your arms, seemingly anxious to get inside.
“Alright, alright, jeez.” You mutter toward her large round head. Your swift trio of knocks echo around you. As the seconds seem to slowly tick by without any response, you begin to shift around on your feet. Haley continues to whimper. “Should I knock again? What do you think?” You mutter into Haley’s ear. The pit gives your nose and cheek a lick in response to the contact.
You knock again, and as quickly as your knuckles hit the wood, the door swings open and startles you and Haley. A man stands before you, dripping wet with a phone pressed to his ear and panic swimming in his eyes. You try not to stare - at the few scars starkly white against his skin, at the pebbled dusky pink-brown of his nipples reacting to the cool air, at the towel that’s precariously wrapped around his waist and flirting with the idea of falling to the ground and giving you a nose bleed. You are unsuccessful but at least you’re trying to look at his shaggy dark hair and nothing else.
“Oh, thank God.” He exhales, head hanging in relief. “She’s right here. Just come back home, okay?”
“Um…” You start to say. Haley decides to escape from the crook of your elbow; you scramble to catch her but don’t succeed and when she lands with a heavy thud, you flinch in solidarity. She seems unphased, scurrying up to who you assume to be her owner with her wiggle butt and whimpering cries. She reaches for him, standing on her back legs, and that towel becomes more precarious on his hips.
“Hey, pretty girl! Why’d you run away, huh? You had me so worried!” He says to Haley, rubbing between her ears. You stand in the doorway awkwardly, unsure on how to proceed. The man looks up at you and his smile is so perfect, it belongs on a magazine cover. It’s blinding. “Thank you so much for bringing her home. She escaped while my little brother was taking her for a walk.” He says.
“Oh, uh, no problem! She found me at that new coffee shop on Grant Street. She walked right up to me and everything.”
“Really? Huh? She’s usually pretty wary of strangers…” He says, his voice trailing off. His eyes dart from your head to your shoes and you feel slightly self conscious and weirdly overdressed. He smiles at you again, and it’s boyishly charming. You feel flushed and hot in response. “So…you like coffee, eh?” He asks with a slight smirk that reveals a dimple in his left cheek, and from that moment on, you know you’re a sucker.
“Sure. If you’re offering.”
this fic is also uploaded to my ao3 account theladydahlia. god, it's been actual years since I've uploaded to tumblr, hopefully I still know what I'm doing.
an F1 RPF Landoscar Omegaverse whump collection by papayabrain
For Whumptober 2025
No.31: ALT 3 If all my days are numbered, why do I keep counting?
Summary: Lando and Oscar develop a fear of flying after the plane crash that left Osc in a coma. Sequel to No.17 and No.23.
Rating: T
Word count: 2.1k
Warnings: Nightmare, fear of flying, mentions of past plane crash (though the crash itself is not written), serious injuries, and past coma.
Notes: This is it, #31/31! Thank you to everybody who’s read and supported this collection over the past six months! All my love and hugs 🧡
Based on the song Why Do I Keep Counting? by The Killers 🎧
Read on AO3 | or read below 👇🏼
~
“Who the heck is Lando?” Mae asked.
“You know who he is! That British F1 driver he’s been crushing on,” Edie replied, before looking back at Oscar. “Have you been dreaming? Kinda creepy to think his birthday is your phone passcode.”
“Yeah, stalker,” Hattie added. “Maybe you should go back to bed, and we’ll leave you two well alone.” She smirked, and he gave her a flat look.
“So tell me again what day it is?”
“Seriously, dude? What is wrong with you?”
Mae stood up from the table and hurried over to hug him. “It’s your birthday, silly!”
“Except it can’t be,” he insisted, hugging her back. “That means it’s race day.”
“Dad’ll be home from work in time to watch it with you later,” Mum reassured.
Dad?
“You mean David? And whatta ya mean, watch it? I’m supposed to be there! I’m a driver!”
Her eyes widened, and he could feel his sister’s eyes on him. “Noooo, Oscar. Chris, your dad. My husband.”
“You’re kinda freaking us out here, dude,” Hattie whispered.
Mae shoved him in the chest. “Stop being mean! We’re trying to be nice, and you’re ruining it!”
Oscar felt his heart thump inside his chest. “But you’re divorced, Mum. And I’m an F1 driver. For McLaren. Lando’s my teammate.” And my boyfriend, but he didn’t feel like that would help them understand anything right about now.
“At what point do we call triple zero?” Edie said, standing up and approaching him, running her hands over his head like she was feeling for a goose egg. “I’m being serious.”
“This isn’t funny anymore!” Oscar yelled, storming past them all and into the lounge, only to stop dead.
The frames on the wall were different. Art pieces and more family photographs that Oscar doesn’t remember taking. The glass cabinet full of junior trophies and F1 helmets was gone. His framed Prema suit, signed by the team, was no longer there.
What the fuck?
~
Oscar shot awake. Breath escaping in heavy gasps, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, tell-tale sting in his eyes and down his cheeks.
“Osc?” came Lando’s sleep-thickened voice.
He brought the blankets to his nose, Lando’s orange and ginger scent embedded in them, and he sobbed in utter relief. A soft, warm hand stroked his bare back. Across countless skin grafts, the mismatched scars evidence that his dream wasn’t real.
His omega’s arms surrounded him, chapped lips kissing his shoulder, whispering soothing words as his breathing calmed. A solid, real, presence.
“Fuck,” he eventually said. Dropping the blankets and wiping his eyes, he let Lando coax him back to lying down. He sprawled across his chest, face buried against his neck, his boyfriend’s warm paws stroking over his back once more.
“Nightmare?” Lando asked quietly.
“Kind of.”
He’d never told anyone about the strange alternate world he’d dreamed about while he was in the coma. His therapist had insisted it was normal to experience vivid, surreal encounters. He’d insisted he couldn’t remember anything. Blocking out traumatic experiences was also normal. His dream had just been crazy.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Oscar took in the room outside of the nest. His racing memorabilia was all here, old trophies and helmets in display cases, framed photos of him across different years. Some scattered McLaren and other branded apparel, including their suitcases, with more in his wardrobe.
No Bachelor of Science on the wall. No extra cricket achievements past those of his youth. With Lando here, in his childhood bedroom, his scent was all around like an extra comfort blanket. Further confirmation.
“I dreamt,” he began, “while I was in the coma.”
He heard his omega’s breath hitch, his arms tightening ever so slightly.
“I wasn’t a driver. I never left Melbourne for Europe. Nobody knew who you were. I felt like I was going insane–” His throat tightened, and he swallowed. “It was my birthday. I was confused because I was supposed to be in Japan for the race. They all thought I was sick, while I thought they were all playing a stupid prank.”
Tears cascaded down his cheeks, and Lando kissed his head.
“All of my racing stuff was gone, I had a mechanical engineering degree, and nothing I had smelled like you.”
“Oh, honey,” Lando soothed. “I’m sorry, that must have been so scary.”
“I looked you up on Instagram. You were still you, still a driver, still for McLaren.”
Lan snorted softly. “Was Carlos still my teammate?”
He felt his stomach drop. Fuck, how was he supposed to tell him?
“Osc? Baby, you’re tense. What’s wrong?”
“Max,” he whispered.
He felt Lando cackle beneath him. “Verstappen? Oh my God, how was that panning out?”
“Umm, yeah, no. Other Max.”
“Shit.” He stiffened, and Oscar felt his tears tickle down his neck. He was immediately shuffling in the nest, so they swapped, cuddling Lan to his chest as he wept, the alpha whispering apologies and rumbling softly as the omega whined.
“It is shit. I’m so sorry, darling.” He scented him, pulling up the blankets to cover the goosebumps across his skin, holding him as tightly as he dared. He shouldn’t have said anything.
“No, I’m sorry,” Lando sniffled. “I don’t know why I’m so upset. It wasn’t even real. It was just a dream, right?”
“Yeah, course,” he choked.
Lando propped himself up on his elbows, cupping his cheek. “You survived. You’re here. We’re real,” he stated through tears.
Oscar nodded, a small smile gracing his lips as they kissed.
~
He hadn’t considered that another consequence of the crash would be a newly developed phobia of flying.
Why would he? He’d been sedated through his repatriation from Japan, and Melbourne had everything he needed to recover. No need to fly anywhere else.
Lando had stayed with him the whole time, both of their careers on hold while they took the time they needed. Zak, Andrea, and other McLaren personnel all checked in on them from time to time, and while he longed to be back racing as soon as he could, travelling to them or even back to Monaco hadn’t sunk in as a potential problem.
It was only when Lan had mentioned going back, almost halfway through June, that it hit him. Flying from Australia back to Europe was basically an entire day in the air. It wasn’t a hop, skip, and jump like flying back and forth between Monaco and the MTC was, or all the European races. There was no escape for hours if they panicked, and that was if they even got off the damn runway in the first place.
There were so many opportunities for things to go wrong.
They were relaxing in the lounge, cuddled up on the sofa after another delicious family dinner, his sisters out walking Basil while Mum and David cleaned up. An animated movie played on the TV, the one about anthropomorphic racing cars.
Lando had insisted on this one because it was either this or the one with the bugs, which was Oscar’s preference, but his boyfriend had a brand new disdain for the creatures, having resided in Melbourne for the past couple of months. He’d refused to sleep in the nest four times after finding Huntsman spiders on the wall.
“Would you be scared about flying back to Europe?” he’d asked quietly, as they watched Lightning McQueen get transported by Mack to his next race location. Unfortunately, they couldn’t road trip back themselves.
“Yeah,” he admitted, wringing his scarred hands in his lap. Lan immediately steadied them, bringing them to his lips to plant a gentle kiss against his skin.
“I talked to Max earlier. He and Connor have gotten into watching livestreams of airports, planes taking off and landing. Says it’s quite soothing.”
“I’m sure it is if you’ve always been safe,” Oscar bit out.
He didn’t mean for it to come out like that. They were only trying to help. Lando wanted to go home so he could make his home race in Silverstone next month. He’d been training hard while Oscar had been healing. The alpha didn’t want to let him go, let alone on multiple fucking planes.
“I guess. I dunno if you wanted to try some with me. See how you feel?”
“I can stay here as long as I like. Why do you need to drag me into this?” His breath hitched, and he wrenched his hands free from his omega’s, covering his face as tears began to escape. Shit.
He expected Lando to run, to storm out of the room and leave him there. Instead, his boyfriend cradled him, scenting and soothing him.
“Because I would love for you to come with me. Obviously, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’d never force you. To have you in the garage with me? Or just in hospitality? I’d love for you to be there. Don’t feel guilty if you’re not ready, Osc. I don’t even know if I’m ready.”
Oh. “You’re scared of flying, too?”
“After what we’ve been through? Of course I am!” Lando was crying now, and Oscar kissed his forehead before hugging him back properly. “The idea of stepping onto a plane, let alone being in the air for hours, only having to do it again once we get to Dubai…staying here is just fucking easier. I tracked my parents’ flight home from Japan. Couldn’t sleep until they Facetimed me from home with my sisters.”
“How did you handle the flight here?” He couldn’t help but ask. He hadn’t considered it before.
Lando ducked his head. “I didn’t. Threw a proper tantrum and then literally threw up in the airport lounge. A lucky part of a medical repatriation flight is that you’re escorted by medical personnel who can also sedate you.”
“Jesus, Lan. I didn’t know.”
“Well, I was fucking embarrassed about it, wasn’t I. They were amazing at calming me down, but you can understand why I’m hesitant to go through that again. With no sedation…maybe many sleeping pills, however.”
Oscar turned back to the film. Lightning had to brave the situation he found himself in. Lost far away from his normal life, forced to problem solve, embrace the unknown, and fight to get back to business as usual.
Subtle, Lando.
He sighed, his heart longing to return to the racetrack. Together, they stood a chance.
“So, tell me more about these airport livestreams?”
~
Lando was practically bouncing in the seat beside him. His omega hadn’t slept a wink the night before, and Oscar hadn’t fared much better. Facing their fear together was the only thing that got him to leave the nest that morning.
Adam would be meeting them in Dubai, then Cisca, Artturi, and Jon would be meeting them at Heathrow. For the first stretch from Melbourne, however, they were on their own. Booked into a private first-class suite, armed with medication, they’d be well looked after for the journey.
Oscar couldn’t stop fidgeting. They had scent blockers on for the first time since the hospital, but they were wearing each other’s hoodies anyway. They’d be privately escorted onto the plane so they didn’t have to face the public and were currently waiting in the private lounge.
They could watch them all take off and land, but Oscar had elected to sit with his back to them. Lando had quickly joined him. Max’s recommended streams had helped get them to the airport. He didn’t fancy ruining things by getting all in his head over statistics.
When their escort prompted them to follow, they shared a quick hug before heading towards the huge plane hand in hand. The cabin crew greeted them, guiding them to their suite. More than gracious in the face of their evident anxiety, he was quick to reassure them and helped them settle.
The real test was the runway.
Lan had his camera out. Whether being used to document their achievement or as a fidget toy, Oscar wasn’t sure, but he smiled as his boyfriend snapped some of him looking out of the window. Once the plane started moving, however, the camera was back in its bag, and their hands were squeezed tightly together.
Holding his breath and closing his eyes as they left the ground, he heard Lando quietly crying beside him.
The flight passed with relative ease. They even spent a couple of hours napping together, the pair of them feeling safe enough in their private cabin to let the lack of sleep from the night before finally catch up with them.
It wasn’t until they touched down safely in Dubai that they were both in floods of tears. Standing up and hugging while they taxied, kissing as they pulled up to the gate, Lando drew back and took both of his hands in his. Tear stains clear down his cheeks.
“We did it!”
~
<< No.30: Mirror | No.32: BONUS Sequel to No.18 >>
When Sanemi’s mansion appeared at the end of the street, Genya slowed down until he had stopped walking. The familiar pressure in his chest grew bigger and for a moment, he struggled to breathe. He had not been back to Sanemi’s estate since an incident where Sanemi had clearly shown him that he did not wish to speak to him. Ever since, Genya had not seen Sanemi even once and for weeks, he had dreaded the moment where they would meet again. Thus, it had come as a rather shocking surprise when his Kasugai crow had told him that his next mission would lead him to Sanemi’s mansion. For a while, he had contemplated relaying the message through his crow that he would not follow this particular order. But then, he had gathered all his courage and decided to go through with it. After all, Sanemi was still his brother even though he could not stand Genya and probably never had since they had been children.
Genya took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders before he started moving again. However, he could not bring himself to walk quickly and thus, he meandered along the street, stretching it as much as he could. But even the longest path had to end at some point and sooner than he liked, he arrived at the gate in the fence surrounding the mansion. The gate was closed and instantly, the hope that it would be locked stirred in his guts, giving him a good excuse to leave without further investigation. Almost smiling at that prospect, he reached for the handle.
The gate swung open without a hitch. Genya stared at the definitely unlocked and now open gate and cursed silently as his hope was shattered. He grimaced and uncomfortably shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He looked up to the sky, hoping to see his Kasugai crow come for him to tell him that he could leave again but except for a few fluffy clouds, there was nothing in sight. Miserably, he looked down at the package in his hand. The order had said very specifically that he was to deliver it to Sanemi personally, so he was not even able to just set it down somewhere and make a run for it.
Genya sighed and clutched the package when taking the first step through the gate. Even though the package was the very reason as to why he even was in this situation, it was also the only thing he could hold onto right now. His legs felt shaky when he walked further onto the estate, leaving the gate behind. Each step took him farther away from the street leading back to safety, his only refuge. He nervously glanced around and listened intently for any sign of Sanemi but the estate lay eerily quiet before him. He gulped when he realized that this would only prolong this situation and suddenly, he almost hoped to hear Sanemi’s aggressive snarl somewhere close as this was his only way to get out of here quickly. But since everything stayed silent, he did not have much of a choice than to walk to the front door of the mansion and knock, hoping that he would leave the estate in one piece later on.
When Genya had reached the door, he hesitantly lifted his hand and carefully knocked at the wooden door. Only once, then he quickly took a step back, fearing the worst. His heart started beating faster when he heard footsteps behind the door and almost without noticing, he pressed the package against his chest as if he could hide behind it. When the door opened, he took a deep breath and his chest felt like it would explode at any moment now. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.
“Genya-kun! What a surprise to see you here,” a voice exclaimed that sounded way warmer than Sanemi was even able to.
Both relieved and disappointed at the same time, Genya opened his eyes again and met the gaze of an attendant. It was a woman, wearing the typical uniform that showed her to be a Kakushi. While her mouth was covered with the usual Kakushi mask, her brown eyes smiled at him warmly and a faint memory stirred in Genya’s mind. If he was not mistaken, he had seen her before. Maybe she was even the attendant who had ushered him out after his last confrontation with Sanemi, treating his wounds and taking care that he got away without being seen. He remembered her kindness and when he now looked at her, he felt the lump in his throat lightening a bit.
“I am here to deliver a package to … Shinazugawa-san,” he said hesitantly. “I have to hand it over personally.”
The attendant nodded and looked at the package in his hands curiously. “Of course,” she said in her friendly voice. “Shinazugawa-sama is not here at the moment but I’m sure he will return in a few hours. How about you come in and wait here?”
Genya flinched and quickly shook his head. He did not dare to imagine how Sanemi would react if he got back to his mansion just to find his detested brother sitting in his living room. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he mumbled.
But the attendant did not seem to take notice of his reluctance. Instead, she held the door open for him and motioned for him to come in. When he hesitated, her gaze softened and she calmly said, “How about you wait in the garden? Would that be a compromise?”
And to his surprise, Genya found that this indeed sounded a lot less intimidating. Slowly, he nodded and her eyes lit up. “Follow me then,” she said enthusiastically and waved him closer.
The path to the garden led them through a part of the mansion and even though his heart still thundered in his chest, Genya curiously looked around, taking in the sight. As he had expected, Sanemi did not seem to be in favor of decorations or knick-knacks but to his surprise, there were quite a few plants that did look well taken care of. Of course, that could also be due to the diligent attendant but Genya was surprised that Sanemi tolerated plants in his personal space. Even more since some of them were very obviously flowers. Somehow, that did not fit into Genya’s image of his brother as flowers seemed gentle and soft while Sanemi was as hard as stone.
When they reached the garden, the attendant gestured to a spot where he could sit down. A wooden porch sat between the house and its garden and since the porch was still under the roof, Genya would be shielded from any wind and rain there. Not that that would be necessary as today the weather was particularly mellow, almost as if it wanted to soothe Genya. With a grateful nod, he sat down and braced himself for a long wait.
It took a while for his heartbeat to finally calm down. The neat garden did help calm his nerves and after a while, he almost forgot his fear of the confrontation in his wake. At one point, the attendant popped her head out of the door and asked him whether he would like to eat or drink something. He politely declined and she disappeared, only to come back with a cup of tea anyways. She handed it to him, giving him a friendly wink. “Good for the nerves,” she said under her breath and Genya could not help but smile back at her nervously.
The time flew by and before he knew what had happened, the sun set on the horizon. With the fading light, Genya’s nervosity came back and he fiddled around the now empty cup. For a moment, he hoped that Sanemi would not return this evening but if that was the case, the attendant surely would have let him know. So, he started counting the minutes, growing more uneasy with each moment that passed. But everything stayed silent.
When Genya finally heard voices in the house behind him, he flinched violently and hastily grabbed the package he had set down next to him. His heart hammered in his chest and when he heard heavy footsteps coming closer, his stomach tightened and he felt like he was about to throw up at any moment now. He desperately pressed a hand against his mouth and swallowed hard when he heard the door behind him opening.
The footsteps came to a halt and Genya did not dare to turn around. Only when he realized that Sanemi would certainly consider this behavior disrespectful did he force his body to move. He quickly got to his feet, staring at the ground intently as he bowed deeply.
“I am here to deliver a package,” he said quietly, hoping that his voice would tremble less than his body did. When Sanemi did not reply, Genya held the package out with both hands, still lowering his head.
The seconds of silence seemed to blur into a small eternity while all he heard was his blood rushing through his ears and quiet, steady breathing a few steps away. Then, the silence was shattered by the sound of the door sliding open again.
“I have prepared dinner for you, Shinazugawa-sama,” the attendant said in her friendly tone and Genya froze. “Since it’s too late for young Genya to walk back through the forest alone, I have prepared a portion for him too.”
Genya managed to suppress his gasp just in time before it could leave his mouth. He wanted to scream and run away but his body did not react at all, leaving him frozen in place. Bile made its way up his throat and he desperately pressed his lips together.
When Sanemi did not say a word, the attendant walked towards Genya. From the corner of his eye, he saw her setting a tray down on a narrow table, positioning the dishes neatly before she looked up and smiled again. “You should have your meal while it’s still warm.”
That was what tipped the scales and suddenly, Genya’s voice worked again. “I … I should get going,” he stammered, shooting her a pleading look.
“Nonsense,” she said firmly. “And now come here and take a seat.”
Her tone did not allow for any protest and with a sense of impending doom, Genya cautiously set down the package on the porch and followed her order, sitting down, his gaze still fixed at the ground.
“You too, Shinazugawa-sama,” the attendant said politely but insistently. And to his bewilderment, Genya heard footsteps coming closer slowly. The floorboards of the porch creaked when Sanemi sat down. The attendant beamed at him and nodded. “Good. And now enjoy your meal.”
And with those words, she bowed politely and retreated back into the mansion, leaving them alone. Genya’s ears were ringing and he struggled for breath. Everything in him wanted to get up and run away but he knew that would be a grave mistake. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’ll just get going now.”
“No.”
The word came out of nowhere and hung in the air between them, growing until it almost suffocated Genya. His hair stood on end when he hesitantly asked, “N- no?”
Sanemi heaved a deep sigh and his voice sounded exasperated when he repeated, “No. She’s right, you can’t leave now. It’s not safe.”
“I’ll be fine,” Genya stammered, instinctively backing away. “I can handle it.”
Sanemi huffed and Genya froze at the familiar sound. “Yeah, I’ve seen how you handle things,” he said, his voice full of disdain. “You are going to stay here for the night. But tomorrow morning by sunrise, I want you gone.”
“Yes, Sir,” Genya muttered, feeling entirely miserable. His whole body tensed up when he felt Sanemi moving next to him, but Sanemi just pulled the table a bit closer.
“Eat,” Sanemi said curtly and pointed at the tray which held two portions of each dish.
Genya looked down at his hands that were still trembling. He knew that if he reached for one of the bowls now, Sanemi would notice it. But if he did not follow Sanemi’s order, he was risking even more. And thus, he plucked up his courage and cautiously took one of the bowls, praying that he would not drop it. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sanemi looking at his hands but he stayed silent. Instead, he slowly started eating, not paying Genya any further attention.
With a weird mixture of relief and fear, Genya looked down at his bowl and the lump in his throat grew. While his stomach did feel hollow, he was fairly sure that he would not manage to eat even a single bite without having to throw up. His heart started pounding faster again while he pleaded with his body to not give up on him.
When he realized that Sanemi was looking at him, his heart stopped. “What are you so afraid of?” Sanemi asked harshly and Genya flinched.
He did not know what to say as Sanemi would probably not take too kindly to him revealing the truth. Hastily, he wracked his brain for a possible explanation but nothing came to mind and the bowl he stared at helplessly also did not reveal any magical solution.
“I’m not going to harm you,” Sanemi said after a while and Genya winced when he realized how accurately Sanemi had read his mind.
“But you tried to last time,” Genya blurted out and pressed his hand on his mouth when he realized what he had said. The urge to flee grew until it was almost overwhelming but he stayed frozen in place, the bowl trembling in his other hand.
For a moment, Sanemi stayed quiet. Then, he nodded. “I did,” he said curtly. “But I’m not going to try again.”
Genya paused and asked himself whether he had heard the words right. He set his bowl down, careful not to break it. And when he spoke, the word came without him thinking about it. “Why?”
Sanemi stayed silent for so long that Genya started to think he would not reply at all. But when he also set his bowl aside and spoke up, his voice sounded strangely tired. “Because I realized that it’s too late. You have chosen your path and I am not able to change that anymore.”
Images flashed before Genya’s inner eye. He still saw Sanemi’s face in his nightmares, pale with rage as he stormed towards Genya, two fingers outstretched, aiming for his eyes. The tone of Sanemi’s voice now did not want to fit in with those memories and Genya’s mind started swimming. When he had told Sanemi that he had started eating demons, he had expected a reaction. Maybe surprise, bewilderment even, probably also a bit of anger. But he had not expected Sanemi attacking him like that. How in the world could anyone ever expect something like that, even from a person that hated them?
After the incident, Genya had thought about it every single night, lying awake and staring into the dark. At first, he had thought Sanemi had wanted to kill him. However, there would have been more than enough more convenient ways to do so. And after long and hard thinking, Genya had come to the conclusion that Sanemi had went specifically for his eyes because he wanted to blind him. But why he had tried that had escaped Genya. Until now.
“You wanted me injured so badly that I can’t be a demon slayer anymore,” he said slowly when the realization sunk in. His heart stopped and for the first time, he looked up and met Sanemi’s gaze. The look out of his dark eyes paralyzed Genya and he held his breath, waiting for a reaction.
Sanemi looked at him, his face entirely blank. But then, he sighed and shrugged. “It did not work,” he said, his face still unmoving.
Genya stared at him, trying to grasp what could have led Sanemi to this attempt. “I … why did you want to do that to me?” he asked quietly, his heartbeat slowing down until it felt like his heart would stop beating at any moment. If this was the moment of truth, he had to use his chance to find out once and for all.
Sanemi stayed silent for a while. His gaze wandered over the dark garden and for once, he seemed almost calm, unsettlingly so. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded strained, sending a shiver down Genya’s spine. “I can’t watch my brother go down that path.”
Genya’s head shot up and he stared at Sanemi with wide eyes. In his ears, faint memories of Sanemi’s voice rang when he hissed at him that they were not family. “You said you didn’t have a brother,” Genya said, casting his caution to the wind. “What changed?”
Sanemi sighed and when he looked back at Genya, his face darkened. “Nothing,” he said curtly. “After tomorrow, I don’t want to see you again.”
And even though Genya was not surprised at these words, his heart ached when he looked at his older brother, his pale face so familiar and so foreign at the same time. When he blinked, he saw a younger, happier face for a moment and the pain in his chest grew until it took his breath away. He could still see a younger Sanemi smiling at him, ruffling his hair. But then he blinked another time and the world turned dark again. The fair features turned into rough, hard ones, no hint of that kind smile left. The lump in Genya’s throat grew until it suffocated him. “Why, Sanemi?” he asked and his voice broke.
Sanemi closed his eyes and for a moment, Genya could see the pain in his features as he grimaced. When he opened his eyes again, he straightened his shoulders and stared into the night. “You don’t want to see a person you love seal their own fate,” Sanemi said. And when he turned back and looked at Genya, his voice sounded cold. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you die. If you want things to be this way, you’re on your own.”
And while Genya heard his voice, four words echoed in his mind. ‘A person you love’. The world shattered around him when he looked at his brother. “Wait,” he whispered, his vision blurring, the world washing away until Sanemi’s face was all he could see. “You love me?”
And when Sanemi looked at him, Genya could see the anguish in his eyes. “I always have,” Sanemi said hoarsely, his gaze burning into Genya’s eyes. “And that’s exactly why I can’t watch you go down.”
Genya’s face felt cold when a single tear ran down his cheek. And when he looked at Sanemi, he felt small again, like the child that had sought shelter in his brother’s arms when it got scared. “I’m sorry, aniki,” he squeezed out and quickly wiped the tear away. “I’m so sorry.”
Genya looked down, desperately trying to regain his composure as more and more tears blurred his vision, running down his cheeks uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to find something to hold onto as the pain ripped him to pieces. When he heard a movement next to him, he flinched and hunched up his shoulders, trying to shield his head.
And then, a hand touched his back. Hesitantly at first, then firmer as it grabbed his shoulder and slowly pulled him closer. And when he felt an arm wrapping around his shoulder, he broke. Pushing his fear aside, he threw himself at his brother, clinging to him as if he was his lifeline. Sanemi froze under his touch, his body growing stiff. But then, he heaved a deep sigh and softened, pulling Genya into an embrace. “We’ll make it through this together, Genya-kun.”
And for the first time in years, Genya felt safe again.
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Relationship(s): Elijah Mikaelson/Damon Salvatore, Elena Gilbert/Stefan Salvatore
Tags/Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Making Up, Semi-Public Sex
Summary:
Based on events in the Stefan's Diaries Series
Shortly after being turned into vampires, Damon and Stefan left Mystic Falls. Stefan was looking for blood, Damon was looking to hide.
Stefan found his blood. Damon found Elijah.
Elijah helped Damon find the joy in being a vampire. For decades, they were happy together.
Until Mikael came and Elijah sent him away.
It's the 21st century and Damon still isn't quite over Elijah's rejection and handling of the past. But Elijah Mikaelson is not the sort of man you just stop loving and with the doppleganger and the moonstone both being in Mystic Falls, he isn't going anywhere anytime soon. Damon might be willing to forgive him - if he can manage a proper apology.
Written for @kinktober-2025 Alt 3: Wall Sex
A/N: Summaries are hard and I apologies for nothing
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Damon probably should’ve recognized Elijah before he was shoving a coat rack into his heart.
Then again, he’d been pretty distracted by other things that afternoon. Like Stefan growing a backbone out of nowhere and Elena getting herself damsel-in-distressed.
Honestly, part of him wanted to just brush this off and leave Elijah there to deal with the consequences of his own actions. Call him petty, he was still mad about how Elijah dumped him, even if it had been about half a century since then. Hell, Damon was still mad about New Orleans, and that was nearly a century ago.
So, really, he should just leave Elijah there. Let him stew in his desiccation for a few hours. See how he liked being left behind.
But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He knew that before he’d even fully decided on it.
Even though he hadn’t seen Elijah himself under the dagger for more than a few years, the memory of seeing him and his siblings borderline dead and locked away was still nightmare fuel.
So Damon was biting into his wrist and pressing it to Elijah’s mouth before he even had a chance to really think about it. Because, even after everything, he hated seeing Elijah dead.
“Damon?” Elena’s voice momentarily broke through his haze of mild worry. “What are you doing?”
“Waking him up. What does it look like I’m doing?” Now that he was actually paying attention to the world around him, he realized he was practically cradling Elijah in his lap. Which likely looked incredibly weird, given not even Stefan knew about this part of his past.
Oh well.
“Damon, he’s dead,” Stefan said, using the same tone he used when he tried to explain why murder was wrong.
“He’ll wake up,” Damon retorted, not particularly caring how insane he sounded. It was only a few more seconds before he felt Elijah’s fangs dig into his wrist and was able to see the color return to his face. He suppressed the sigh of relief when he saw his former lover’s eyes flutter open.
How he’d missed those eyes. Deep and dark and incredibly expressive if you knew what to look for. 70 years had taught Damon what to look for.
“Good morning,” he murmured, a teasing grin poking through despite the whirlwind in his chest.
Elijah’s fangs gently slid out of his wrist and he placed the softest kiss over the healing wound. “I do believe it is after noon.”
Damon heard Elena and Stefan whispering to each other, but he tuned it out as he took Elijah in properly. He seemed thinner than the last time they’d seen each other, or perhaps that was just a side effect of the off-the-rack suit he was wearing. His hair was shorter and less styled as well; it almost made him look like a modern man.
Almost.
He kept a hand on Elijah as he got to his feet and stood with him. “You okay?”
“I’m quite well.”
“Good.” Now that all that concern was out of the way, Damon could just feel the anger. He pulled his hand back and slapped him. A loud smack echoed through the house and he practically felt Elena and Stefan cringing back behind him.
Damon knew the only reason Elijah’s head actually turned with the slap is because it caught him by surprise. He’d seen Elijah stand unaffected by much stronger blows from much older vampires.
Still. It felt good to see the red imprint on his cheek, even if it would fade within moments.
“Fuck you.”
“Damon-”
“No, no, no. Uh-uh. You don’t get to charm your way out of this one. I’m still mad at you.”
Elijah turned his face back to him, smug grin firmly in place. “Darling-”
“No. You lost pet name privileges 50 years ago.”
“I’m getting mixed signals, hrafn. First you stake me, then you heal me, and now you slap me. I’m not sure what to make of this.”
“I’m mad at you but I don’t want you dead. That clear things up?”
Elijah’s smirk did not fade. “Are you going to give me a chance to apologize?”
Damon pretended to think about it. “...No.”
“Whyever not?”
“You kidnapped my friend and forced me to take a long, sober drive with Stefan. That’s just more reasons to be mad at you. Besides all the other stuff like you abandoning me and-”
“And saving your life. Yes, how cruel of me.”
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m explaining why you’re a terrible person.”
“Uh, Damon-”
“Not now, Elena. I’m yelling at my ex.”
“Ex?” Stefan and Elijah said simultaneously.
“You broke up with me!”
“I-”
“Have no excuse because we both remember exactly what you said. You said-”
Elijah disappeared for a blink, then the world blurred. He felt himself being carried by the sudden pressure on his stomach from Elijah’s shoulder rather than the actual sensation of being lifted. The next thing he knew, he was pressed against a wall, Elijah’s face filling his vision.
“I don’t think I ever realized how short you are,” he murmured, petting Elijah’s hair for emphasis.
“Shut up.” Elijah kissed him before he could retort.
“Don’t think you can kiss your way out of this,” Damon muttered.
“I believe I told you to shut. Your. Mouth.” Elijah punctuated his words with a bite on Damon’s lower lip. “I have missed you….”
“I haven’t missed you at all,” Damon said as he tugged at Elijah’s belt. “And I’m still not hearing an apology for-”
Elijah kissed him again, softer but no less passionate. His hands made quick work of Damon’s jeans, dropping them to the floor. “Let me make it up to you, hm? For old times’ sake?”
Damon let his head fall back against the wall as Elijah lifted his hips, wrapping his legs around his older lover’s waist. “Fuck, you- This isn’t fair.”
He felt Elijah smirk as he kissed down his neck. “Let me take care of you, my love.”
Damon groaned and gripped Elijah’s hair, pulling him back up for another kiss.
It was too easy to fall back into this old song and dance. Elijah taking control, guiding Damon down the various roads of pleasure. Damon occasionally taking the wheel back, giving Elijah a taste of his own care.
Even after all their years apart, some habits never broke. Elijah’s silent insistence on preparation, even if they’re short on time. Damon’s refusal to quiet his own sounds of pleasure, even when they should be quiet.
It felt good, even the memory of why things had fallen apart so spectacularly was still fresh in Damon’s mind.
“Quit stalling and fuck me,” Damon growled.
Elijah swallowed Damon’s moan as he entered him. “Since you asked so nicely….”
It was almost as perfect as Damon remembered. The warmth and security he felt in Elijah’s hold, the dual pleasurepain of Elijah’s cock and fangs in him- the sheer ecstasy of being with someone who knew him inside and out, who knew exactly what buttons to press and when. He could almost feel the memories of the meaningless flings of the past few decades fading away.
It really was unfair, how easy it was for Elijah to worm his way back into Damon’s heart and body.
“Cum for me, darling. Just for me,” Elijah panted in his ear, sounding just perfectly on the wrong side of composed, that perfect tone that just made Damon come undone.
Damon panted and let the wall take on all of his weight as he floated down from the high of pleasure. He gripped Elijah’s shoulders as he came back to himself. “I’m still mad at you,” he muttered.
“I know, minn hrafn.” Elijah nipped his neck, just above his pulse point. “I assure you, if I knew you were in the area, I would’ve come with a more proper apology.”
“You mean you didn’t come out here just to make me even more mad? I’m insulted.”
Elijah sighed and rested his forehead on Damon’s shoulder. Damon stroked Elijah’s hair while he gathered his thoughts. “My purpose has not changed since we last spoke,” he said eventually, barely above a whisper. “I am still at odds with Niklaus, and the situation has gotten dire. I fear that-”
“I don’t.” He pulled Elijah’s head back and looked him in the eye. “I know you’re afraid of him using me against you or me getting killed as ‘collateral damage’ or whatever. I get it. But now this situation involves people I care about, besides you. You’re not cutting me out this time.”
“Damon-”
“Elijah.”
The ancient vampire sighed and closed his eyes. “I suppose there’s no compelling you to take an extended vacation in the Bahamas?”
“I’ve been dosing myself with vervain since Katherine showed up. I figured Klaus wouldn’t be far behind.”
Elijah nodded and slowly stood up, separating himself from Damon. “An astute assumption. He isn’t actively searching for her anymore but I imagine there’s a reason the moonstone is currently in her possession.” He adjusted his jacket and fixed up his pants.
“Yeah, because she’s a crazy bitch.” Damon took that as his cue to get redressed as well. “You’ve gone casual on me. Did you take that off the rack? And where’s the tie?”
“I have limited wardrobe space these days and I’ve been avoiding my usual tailors for fear of Niklaus discovering me. I’ve had to make some sacrifices.” Elijah’s pout betrayed how much of a sacrifice it really was. He loved his suits.
“Oh, my poor baby. We’ll have to get you properly fitted once this is over.”
Elijah tilted his head. “We?”
“What? You think I’m gonna miss a chance to see you half naked and getting dressed up like a doll?” Damon winked and grabbed his wrist. “Come on; we should check on the children downstairs.”
Elijah chuckled and let himself be led. “Very well; I suppose we do owe them an explanation.”
