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six-magnitude-girl · 3 years ago

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The Dawn of the New Ackerman

Summary: And just like that, their correspondence never ceased even as the years went by.

Chapter: 2/5

Tags: Pseudo-Incest, Alternate Universe - Medieval Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Found Family, Possessive Behavior, Eventual Explicit Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, no beta we die like Kuchel, this is what happens when you write with Goblet of Fire playing on loop, this is off the mark tbh, my self indulgent saccharine concoction

Disclaimer:English is not my first language so mistakes were made.

Note: Bold italics are their letters. Italics are either inner thoughts, a dream sequence or a flashback.

Eren felt hollowed out. He felt like his heart was carved out of his chest. It was an occurrence that was only made possible when an individual felt a certain amount of fullness like never before.

With Mikasa gone, his life naturally retreated back to silence. The estate felt too big for him. Everything felt too quiet.

Eren initially avoided all the places that he frequented with Mikasa but each place he hides only reminds him of her. Even his bed... To be specific, it felt half empty. His arm reaches out at the right side as if to soak in whatever trace Mikasa left in the chalk-white sheets of his bed. Tired of tossing and turning in sleepless nights, he goes to the Astronomy Tower to dance with her ghost.

There wasn't any shortage of falling stars whenever he stargazed with Mikasa but now despite waiting all night, no star fell for him. He could only bury his grief under the bright twinkling stars.

The increased intensity of his training with Levi when they resumed was welcomed. Eren could now fully see the benefits of those dance lessons.

“Does Mikasa also know how to fight?” he asked one day because he couldn't help but see similarities between Levi's and Mikasa's gait.

“Yes.” He was now fully accustomed to Levi maintaining his blades after training and has inherited the habit from his swordmaster.

“Swords?” Eren wasn’t sure because Mikasa never mentioned anything to him and she never seemed interested in the art of fighting.

“Her training was different from yours because the late Duchess made the Duke promise not to let Mikasa hold some ‘barbaric’ sword.”

Akemi Ackerman was traumatized seeing how Kenny trained Levi when she was pregnant with Mikasa. She loathed thinking that if the child in her womb was a girl, her daughter would ever go through the same thing so she made Kevan promise.

“If not a sword then what?”

“You’ll learn it when you come with me on my travels.” That spurred some fresh motivation on Eren’s end.

On most days, he felt his body cursing him but on some, he was grateful because when he was kept busy, he wouldn’t have the time to think or ponder about the newfound feeling of emptiness in his life.

His training and studies weren’t the only things that kept him busy. There is also the matter of managing estate affairs. He has little time for himself now but he didn’t hate it. He thrived being buried in work. He felt useful and satisfied but most of all when he was preoccupied with work, Eren wouldn’t feel the vacancy that plagued his life following Mikasa’s departure.

Maybe it was masochism but on rare occasions of free time, he couldn’t stop himself from regularly reading history books to pass the time; as he expected, the activity isn't fun without her.

It was a week after Mikasa left when he first received her letter. Eren was watching the sunset at the Astronomy Tower when a pigeon landed on the railing. It was a messenger pigeon to be exact.

Pleased that Mikasa kept her promise to him, Eren almost didn't mind that the bird who delivered his letter, squawked and bit his hand.

Mikasa's letter contained her first day at the temple and he found it so constricting and boring on her behalf. He was mildly horrified at how she wasn’t allowed to speak until her second year to honor the Founder Ymir.

Truth be told, he had the most vindictive urge not to write back to her. But when he remembered her sad expression when he declared that he won’t write back, he knew that it wouldn’t be an option on his end. He doesn't want to and couldn’t do that to her.

Eren immediately wrote back.

The bird who delivered your letter is crazy! It squawked nonstop and bit my finger!

Mikasa almost laughed out loud imagining Eren threatening bodily harm to the pigeon carrier.

It must be because you didn't offer to give it a treat or water. They travel a long way and it's not required but the bird would appreciate it.

Eren complained and protested that logic but begrudgingly prepared some 'bird offerings'.

With the number of letters they sent back and forth, it was Levi who decided to put his foot down.

The Ackerman messenger ravens are temperamental and territorial; it doesn't sit well with them how outsider birds kept coming to the estate. It was long overdue for Eren to get a personal carrier.

It took a long time for him to find a bird that would work for him because he held a grudge against pigeons, owls creeped him out and he refuses to use ravens to send his letters to Mikasa. He wasn't particularly superstitious but he doesn't want to take a risk and endanger her by bringing her bad luck. Levi only rolled his eyes at that because he wasn't particularly wrong. When an Ackerman sends a letter, it often is to threaten or declare war on their enemies… so ravens are the perfect carriers for them.

Eren was eleven when he found a white raven.

Levi tried to discourage him because there is a reason why no one but them uses ravens as messenger birds. They are indeed intelligent and battle ready but they are extremely stubborn and prideful. Eren would need to spend time bonding with the bird. They also hold deep grudges but Eren insisted.

What should I name my messenger bird? I'll let you name my white raven. For the life of him, Eren couldn't think of a suitable name.

I just met your bird and I think his name should be Beren. Not only does Mikasa look forward to Eren's letters, but she's also excited to spend time with Beren now.

No! Are you making fun of me? What kind of name is Beren? And here he thought the names that he thought of sucked.

Eren frowned reading the letter and made eye contact with his bird. He is strong and clever. He tried testing how the name rolls in the tongue– "...Beren" Eren almost lost it when his bird immediately answered his call and flew to his arm.

I am serious. Beren stands for Bird Eren. Before you say no, in the ancient text it also means strong, clever, and well-known.

He tried to ignore Levi's snickering upon hearing the name of his bird. "Mikasa named him!" The older man rolled his eyes at that.

Communication was open and constant, it was maintained and cherished with constant upkeep to be involved in the separate lives that they lived.

Mikasa still talks to Eren about history–

Maybe the Usurper was friends with the saviors of humanity.,

Humanity's strongest knight, Lavine thinks kissing is gross that's why he refused the honor to kiss the queen's hand.,

King Lucius managed to seduce Jack the Ripper that's why he got spared.

–and Eren still drives Mikasa mad with the crazy theories that he comes up with much to his glee. Messing with Mikasa's history lessons is one of Eren's hobbies.

Eren often sends her gifts, flowers, or trinkets to go with his letters.

Which color suits me the most? My first year is up and there is a celebration of sorts. We're all required to wear white but are allowed to put colored accessories in our hair.

In response, Eren sent her an exquisite Bellflower hair comb. Mikasa almost squealed in delight when she laid eyes on the hair accessory. Bellflowers are her favorite flowers. She always makes a crown of bellflowers for them to put in their heads whenever they go to their tree at the top of the hill.

Mikasa always wears the hair comb Eren gave her whenever she was given a chance.

Eren was also involved in her day-to-day life and Mikasa wasn't shy in asking Eren for advice because she knows how much he likes it whenever she does.

Did my plan work?! Did you find out who the potato thief is? Eren didn't make it a secret how invested he is in Mikasa's life at the temple of Founder Ymir.

Yes. It was one of the girls my age who sleepwalks. I pitied her so I gave her half of my bread ration. Her family sent her to the temple in an attempt to curb her endless appetite. Facts are stranger than fiction.

The Potato Girl Chronicles was one of the many adventures that they shared.

***

Eren witnessed Mikasa's predictions turn into reality in his first year in the academy. Studying in advance was the right call for him. Of course, they couldn't possibly cover everything so Levi, eventually Hanji focused on getting Eren a strong foundation of knowledge in all subjects. It made all the difference and he feels satisfied climbing his way to the top.

It was clear he never had any plans to fit in and wanted to bulldoze his way to the top.

In the beginning, he was antagonized by a select few but they noticeably mellowed down when the rankings came out. He was aware that he was a bit of an asshole and he didn’t care what other people thought of him. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.

How could he not act that way? He hates these people, he’s one of them now but there will always be a lingering resentment on his end.

To his credit, Eren kept an open mind due to Mikasa's influence and he begrudgingly accepted how some of his peers at the academy turned out to be decent human beings who were just doing their familial duty.

Still, he remained cold and detached from everyone. He maintained his attitude and it only proved his point when some still insist on being his friend or being connected to him in some way.

It was understandable when one thinks, not only did the elusive Ackerman family fully adopt him but he’s also the Yeager heir by default. It was clear with his strong presence, unmatchable combat skills, and his rankings how he’ll conquer. But even with all that, he still sees his social standing as precarious. There is a stain in his soul that he can't just easily wipe clean.

One thing that surprised him is how he made a friend. Armin Arlert is often seated beside him because of their family names. Armin is an extremely intelligent commoner who was privileged to attend the academy because of his talent. Eren respected his inner strength and he liked his ambition. The way they discuss theories together also reminded him of his time with Mikasa.

Truth be told, Eren rejects his popularity. He was getting marriage proposals which he constantly turned down. It was something he was more comfortable talking to Armin about than with Mikasa.

In his last year at the Academy, the women got more aggressive. The high surge of women propositioning him and his marriage proposals started getting out of hand.

Dina even wrote asking him to meet her distant relative. When she didn't hear from him, she went as far as to reach out to Mikasa. Dina wanted Mikasa to convince Eren to formally meet the princess, who is also currently studying at the academy.

Mikasa wanted no part in it as she would never subject Eren to any of that. But the seed has been planted and she was concerned because he never mentioned anything about it in their constant correspondence. She delicately broached the subject with him hoping he won't be mad at her for asking.

Eren wasn't mad at her because he knew she didn't have an ulterior motive for asking and was genuinely worried about him. He hated how much he liked it when she fussed over him. As much as Eren wanted to drop the topic, he was also curious about what Mikasa thought of it.

He was in his private corner at the library when Beren flew through the open window. He held out his arm for his bird to land on.

"Good job, Beren." he praised his bird and fed him a jerky before relieving him of the parcel and letter tied into him.

Marriage entails different things depending on who you ask.

Eren couldn't resist waiting until he got back in his room and immediately opened the envelope. Beren climbed up to his shoulder as if to get a better view of the letter.

One thing most people overlook is the mutual willingness to commit to it. Transparency with each other's wants, needs, and expectations is the first step.

If love isn't there then I need to remind myself that beauty and passion fade, but respect and trust only grow in time.

Marrying the right person means you could be each other's strongest ally and defender, guarding each other's secrets; forsaking all others above all else.

He decided that he'll open his gift when he gets back into his room.

I have already written to father and Dina. Please know that you don't need to do anything you don't want but if you are resolute… Eren, I would always be on your side to support you regardless of your choice.

The contents of the letter were running through Eren's mind. He absentmindedly picked up and twirled the small flower bouquet that Mikasa always gives him on his birthday. She never failed to celebrate it with him every year in spirit.

"Thank you for being born?"

Eren's train of deep thought broke.

"What?" He asked Armin who settled on his usual spot across from him. The blonde greeted Beren who then flew to land on the top of his pile of books.

"If you're planning to ask someone for the ball, you might want to change your flowers because the meaning of it is a bit too…" Armin grimaced trying to find the right words. "...saccharine."

All this time… His eyes widened with realization and were unresponsive. Eren's face remained stony but his colors betrayed him. His ears are visibly turning red by the second.

His friend's change of color, the small box, and a letter tucked inside his book were enough context clues for Armin.

Despite being friends, Eren is carefully guarded and Armin remains reserved. The two of them never asked about each other's home life. Their talks circled between projects, theories, and their ambitions for the future.

Eren was reminded that he wasn't in the privacy of his room and attempted to distract himself by opening his gift as if his mind wasn't blown by his recent discovery.

In the box, aside from the assortment of things inside. There is a small pouch that has Beren's name written on it. He took it out and the white raven was unto him, instantly flying at his side. It made its signature throaty "kraa", eagerly waiting for its master to open it.

There were seeds inside. Curious, he fed one to Beren.

"Happy 18th birthday Ereh," The white bird suddenly talked in a familiar soft voice that despite not hearing it for eight years, Eren knew all too well.

Eren is overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions. The familiar salty taste at the back of his throat is back. It brought him back when he held onto her desperately in the dark and prayed that morning never comes.

He looked at Armin and the blonde was open-mouthed-ly nodding to him as if to confirm that he heard it too.

"I've read once that ravens can mimic human speech but this is the first time I've encountered one!" Armin excitedly gushed over Beren and attempted to make it speak again but the bird only kept eating the snacks that the blonde gave but didn't speak anymore.

"It was your birthday?" Eren nodded.

"That voice…" Who the voice belonged to was the thing Armin was most curious about.

"It was-" Eren was still out of it and wasn't in any condition to talk.

"Your older sister?" Armin finished the sentence for him pretending not to notice the melancholy in Eren's voice.

"Step-sister." the blonde raised his eyebrow at that and wanted to ask what's the difference since they are clearly close.

"I've always suspected Beren preferred her over me." he trailed off and he was thankful that if his friend noticed, he didn't point it out.

Leave it to Mikasa to teach his bird how to speak…

He looked at his bird, imagining her as she gently pets its head. Feeling generous, he fed Beren another snack.

"Kraa! Beren is the best"

"Yes, you are." he acknowledged dryly and the bird seemed to puff up at his owner's confirmation.

"It talked again!" Armin's determination to make the bird say his name was renewed.

You are the best. Eren stared at the bellflower and daffodil bouquet that he receives each year from Mikasa. All this time and I never knew. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head helplessly.

***

Eren re-lived his last dance with Mikasa in a dream that he had that night.

He swore that the moon and stars shined the brightest he's ever seen that fateful night.

Mikasa looks otherworldly standing at the center of the room.

She's looking up and soaking in the kaleidoscope of colors reflected from the circular stained glass roof then her eyes met his as she caught him staring at her.

"Eren, dance with me?" Mikasa looked so sincere when she asked him that he doesn't think he can ever deny her anything at that moment.

He didn't answer but he trailed after her almost like a lost puppy or a sailor getting lured deep into the ocean by a beautiful siren.

Her arms smelled and felt like home, he unconsciously closed his eyes.

Eren doesn't think that Mikasa ever noticed that habit of hers but every time she hears a song, she unconsciously taps her fingers to follow the beat of the music. He finds it endearing that whenever they are dancing, there is this gentle tapping of her fingers on his shoulders as if she's playing the piano.

He tried to say something but he couldn't. He wants to tell her something. He wished he had said something. He tried again but it didn't happen.

The music stopped and Mikasa faded right before his eyes.

Eren didn't want to open his eyes and tried to fall asleep again, hoping to continue the dream. But it was inevitable because he was already awake.

He slowly opened his eyes.

He could still feel her body's softness when they danced. He inhaled and he could still smell her all over him…

It was as if he had missed her so much that he had conjured Mikasa and it left traces of her presence. He knew it was a dream but he still looked at the right side of his bed to confirm that she wasn't beside him. And it was like losing her all over again.

Eren curled up on his side to try to catch some sleep again.

***

Weeks before they graduate and it was obvious to Armin how Eren is not making any effort to get a partner.

The first part of the graduation ceremony happens inside the academy. Everyone would be in their uniforms one last time. It’s mostly for formality and to give recognition to all of the students who graduated.

The second part of graduating is considered the most important as it could make or break you. It’s your high society debut. The graduation ball is where the recent graduates are invited to the ball inside the palace hosted by the king. The king would then call upon the top students to be presented with rewards. It gives you an instant leg up in society.

It’s a general rule to attend the graduation ball with a partner. There is an unspoken rule that fiancees should go with their engagement partners. It's a roundabout way of letting everyone know that someone is off-limits. If you are not engaged, going together could also be seen as a subtle declaration that you two are in a courtship.

Eren and Armin will both graduate at the top of their chosen elective. These days, they are busier with their business. They are mostly keeping it quiet and they don’t talk about it outside of the people involved in it. It’s a small project that was supposed to be an experiment but they saw potential in it even though they didn’t get their capital back in their first year.

“Do you have a partner yet?” Armin is putting his foot down this time. He doesn't want his friend to humiliate himself or offend anyone on his first day of being an adult.

"Are you sure Kirstein is up for the job?" Eren's nonanswer answered Armin's question.

"Jean is our friend and I think he brings out the best in you because he's your foil."

Eren wanted to protest against being friends with Jean but didn't because Armin gives him a look every time he does. The blonde has the ability to make anyone feel stupid when arguing with him. He wasn't in the mood for that and he trusts Armin to make the right call.

"They'll laugh at you for not having a partner." Working on someone's fear usually works for Armin when trying to convince someone, emphasis on usually.

"Let them." Armin sighed at Eren's adamant answer. At times like this Armin questions his friend's intelligence.

"Do you want me to find you a partner?" Armin is just as persistent as Eren.

"I don't want to get shackled into marriage." Armin chuckled remembering how crazy things have been with all the women pursuing his friend.

"Quit being dramatic. I'm going to find you a partner and all ten of us will go together as a group."

"Ten?" Eren was appalled by the number of people he needed to share air with.

"All you need to do is show up." the blonde reassured but Eren was already dreading the party.

Eren stiffly nodded. "Anything to get you off my back."

Armin gave Eren a thumbs up and smiled at his success in making his friend see reason.

Eren sighed and reminded himself that this is his last year at the academy so he'll be doing himself a huge favor by putting up with it and getting it over with.

***

Everything was far from satisfactory. Eren knows he's not going to have a good time but he never expected his night to be a hellfire of a disaster.

Almost all of the ladies tried talking to Eren at some point but the most persistent one was Wayenicka Reeder. Despite being an illegitimate child, she found her place early on in the academy with her encompassing liveliness and charm that makes every woman envy her and every man want to be with her. Everywhere she goes, she has a way of getting the room.

"Eren seems to not be having fun! We all came together so it would be a waste not to enjoy the night." Nobody found fault in what she said. Some even agreed and asked him to lighten up but her words are nails on a chalkboard to him.

"Eren, you should dance!" Eren tried to be patient by constantly giving her short answers.

His hopes of her getting a hint come crashing down. With the way she's been sticking to him all night, he might as well be her partner. He finally loses his temper and swats her hand away when she tried touching his hair. "It's Ackerman."

"What?" she blinked in repeated succession.

"At no point must a lady or a gentleman with absolutely no connection refer to each other by their given name." Reminding someone of the etiquette on an occasion that is supposed to be for loosening up is an unwelcome drag back to reality. Everyone in their group felt awkward and didn't know how to clear the air.

"Oh. Of course!" Wayen thought that Eren would eventually warm up to her because everyone did. She got quite in trouble with the fianceés of some of the boys in the academy because she was irresistible to the opposite sex and gained quite a following that rivals Princess Historia's. She's the opposite of the constrained high society that everyone spent their whole lives getting ready for but also dreaded at the same time.

Wayen tried to brush off the clear rejection but it was obvious how embarrassed she was because this is the first time this happened to her. The more Eren pushes her away, the more she can't take her eyes off of him.

Historia, Eren's assigned partner at the ball, choked up a laugh.

He looked at her and felt his blood rising at the thought of someone laughing at him. "Having fun at someone's expense again, Princess Reiss?"

Historia didn't say anything and just pursed her lips like a petulant child. She laughed because even though she truly turned over a new leaf, she still gets the sadistic satisfaction of watching someone be put in their place.

It was mean-spirited of Eren to dig out the harassment and bullying allegations against Historia Reiss but he already has some misplaced anger toward her. First is because Historia was one of the people who picked on him when he first came to the academy and Eren is the type to nurture a grudge as if it's his firstborn child. The second and the main reason is that Dina somehow got her way again by having both of them introduced and paired. He shuddered to think what people must be thinking seeing him together with the blonde princess.

Jean's partner Hitch, salvaged the situation by urging the women to accompany her to the powder room to freshen up (and most likely to curse Eren in private).

"What women see in you, I'll never understand…" Jean grumbled after the women of their group were out of earshot.

Armin who has been silent the whole time since the ball started finally spoke out. "You should ask Wayen to dance to make up for earlier."

Eren only looked at Armin asking if he was serious.

If you don't know that they are the best of friends and are just watching from afar, you would think they are mortal enemies.

Eren's problem with Wayen isn't that she's too familiar or touchy with him. His biggest problem with her is that she put him in an unpleasant situation with his business partner and only friend at the academy.

"She has a mouth, if she wants to dance she'll ask me instead." In Eren's perspective, there is no point in breaking it gently to his friend.

His apathetic attitude pissed Armin off even more because it seems like everyone was uncomfortable but him. "Maybe if you stop being so ego-centric even just for a second, you would have noticed it." he snapped.

Marco tried to jump in between them but Jean beat him up to it. He was hoping not to make a big fuss.

Connie's eyes simply darted between the two but put his wine glass down in case he needed to jump in and stop the fight from getting physical.

"Whoa. Whoa. Gentlemen, let's all relax. We're in the palace right now." Jean cursed his luck. He just graduated with honors, and he has a promising future ahead of him but he couldn't even take his beautiful partner to dance because he's worried that his friends would just go at it if he leaves them even just for a second.

"I only listen to people worth listening to." Armin couldn't understand why Eren insists on being the most horrible version of himself to Wayen. His emotions overtook him seeing his friend treat her that way.

"She's not good enough for you because she's a commoner?" It's the worst possible thing Armin could have ever said to Eren and he knows it.

One thing people should know about Eren is that he doesn't take anything lying down and just like Armin, he isn't above low blows. "It was only out of my respect for you that I tolerated Reeder as she continues to use you to get close to me. I was waiting for you to realize what she truly is but she got inside your head." Armin just looks horrified the moment he hears the words that came out of Eren's mouth.

"–Ackerman, stop it!" The three other men at the round table tried to stop Eren from talking but he wasn't done.

"I am who I am but at the very least I don't pretend or claim otherwise. You obviously have feelings for her and you're even her escort but she-" Eren stopped mid-sentence to think. He asked himself if there was a point in continuing when the truth was so obvious.

If Armin wanted to throw away their four years of friendship over a chit like that then so be it because Eren felt tired. He felt betrayed by his friend for acting this way toward him. He has a lot of feelings now that he's graduating, he feels aimless. Everything felt closing in on him and he doesn't have time for this.

"I'll tell you what," Eren removed Jean's hand off his shoulder before he continued. "If she asks me directly, I'll dance with her." he looked directly into his blue eyes. "If that happens, do me a favor and watch us dance. Tell me how stupid you feel afterwards."

Nobody attempted to lift the atmosphere anymore, the night was ruined.

Jean knew that Eren wasn't in the wrong but his tactless way of going about it didn't sit well with him. And when he thought of Armin… it was a disaster. At that point, Jean completely washed his hands off the situation.

The women came back from the powder room in higher spirits than before.

Wayen's liveliness combined with her not-so-subtle hints of wanting to dance got their table crowded with the other male party attendees. "I'm sorry, it would be rude for my escort so maybe next time?" she smiled brightly at Armin and he gave her a brittle smile in return.

The four other men observed Wayenicka Reeder and couldn't see her the same way after the fight. They all refrained from saying anything as they are all gentlemen but they all got annoyed with her.

It wasn't exactly a surprise turn of events but the men cringed inside when Wayen asked Eren to dance as an apology for earlier. She made it sound so friendly too like she was doing him a favor but it was anything but.

Eren has no excuse as Historia was away because her sister called for her.

Given their social standing, Eren could refuse and there is nothing anyone could do. He was actually counting on his friend, Armin, to put a stop to it but his friend disappointed him once more by not saying anything and it just made Eren angrier.

Overall, his strong feelings of spite for Armin made him go through with it.

The speed that Eren lead Wayen to waltz at was on full tilt. He was not gentle or patient with her at all. He made the dance as unpleasant as possible for her.

Because she couldn't keep up, he accidentally kicked her in the shin but he didn't care and continued to practically drag her like a ragdoll.

Seeing them or rather him dancing at an expert level spurred the people on the dance floor to show off their dancing chops too. It was cutthroat and the other graduates are unwilling to be outshined by Eren once more.

That's the reason why nobody noticed or cared about Wayen's obvious misery at Eren's break-necking pace at his waltz. Everyone was moving so fast and focused on their dancing.

The bystanders circled the dance floor to watch all of the participants seemingly having an impromptu dance competition. It was crowded which blocked them from Armin and the others.

Eren's furious about how someone is tainting his precious memories of dancing. He never once looked at her face. With just the two of them, he pretended not to hear her whines or anything she said.

Everyone clapped once the round of dancing was over. He didn't give Wayen any chance to think of any machinations because Eren deliberately led them on the path near the women whose eyes never left them.

Those women were the fianceés of Wayen's admirers/followers. His calculation worked and they blocked their way and started giving an underhanded compliment to Wayen as a greeting.

Before she could reply, "I am going to let you ladies catch up."

Upon hearing Eren say that, Wayen was aghast. She tried to reason that she was tired and would like to be escorted back to their table but Eren acted as if he didn't hear her and walked away. He slightly felt better throwing her to the wolves after enduring her company all night. Armin might lose it with him for leaving his escort unattended but he doesn't give a damn. He sincerely hopes that they tear her apart like she deserves since she's so intent on being a damsel in distress.

Eren got some air on a terrace to clear his head when Connie suddenly blocked his path on his way back. "Where have you been?!" He was antsy too. "You just missed your sister!"

***

Founder Ymir heavily favors Mikasa and takes her whenever she makes a trip off the island. But she remained resolute to her indifference regarding the whispers of her wasted potential of having the honor of becoming one of the nine titan holders if she chooses to become a full-fledged priestess for the church of Ymir. She could and she'll be secured for life but that is not something Mikasa wanted. Her plans haven't changed even after eight years. Just one more year, her nine years would be up and she'll be going home to the Ackerman duchy.

If Eren is married by the time she returns or marries in the future, she'll buy a small villa in the countryside. Everything has worked out for her so far.

The stars aligned for Mikasa when Founder Ymir decided to visit the royal palace suddenly for reasons unknown.

It was Eren's graduation and she knows he'll be at the palace for the ball. She couldn't waste the opportunity, so she plans to sneak away for a little bit to see Eren.

Mikasa was giddy with excitement with the thought of her surprising him by handing her letter in person. Ymir and Sasha would also be joining her. Ymir would meet her lover who lived in the palace and Sasha would eat the food at the party.

Mikasa hopes they're not so conspicuous and could easily blend in with the crowd. They brought in cloaks to disguise the fact that the three of them are wearing identical white halter neck gowns that are synonymous with temple attire.

Ymir was gone as soon as they sneaked out. She somehow already knew where to find her lover.

Mikasa and Sasha didn't have much luck. So far, it hasn't gone well… It was a disaster because the castle was labyrinth-like. They couldn't find the entrance to the ballroom.

When they finally reach it, Sasha beelines for the food while she's still stuck trying to find Eren.

Mikasa's hiding behind the dark hallway scanning the room when someone approaches her.

"Hello, this might be forward of me but may I help you?" She knows she is running out of time and doesn't have many options at this point so she assesses if she can trust the dark-haired boy with a kind freckled face.

"My name is Marco Botd." he saw her reluctance and took the initiative to introduce himself first.

Mikasa didn't say her name and instead went to the root of the matter. "I am trying to find Eren Ackerman."

Marco's kind brown eyes sparkled in recognition. "I am acquainted with him. I think he opted not to dance and is at our table right now." Being the gentleman that he is, he offered his arm. "May I escort you there?"

Mikasa politely accepted his offer.

***

Hitch was asked by her friend, Marlowe to dance so Jean was stuck with Connie who is currently inhaling his food in an attempt to sober up, and Armin who was still in low spirits.

With most of the party attendees circling the dance floor, the three of them enjoyed a rare newfound silence. The table that they've chosen was near a terrace and they've been enjoying the cool air as they drink.

The peace was gone when Connie whistled in a way that would give their etiquette professor an aneurysm. Jean was elbowed repeatedly by his slightly dimwitted friend. "Look at that fine lady with Marco!"

Time seems to slow down for Jean as he lays his eyes upon Mikasa. His heart was beating so fast as the two got closer to them. Even Armin has his delicate eyebrows raised at the turn of events.

"Have you gentlemen seen Ackerman? The lady…" Marco looked at Mikasa and remembered that she hasn't introduced herself yet but he figured that she didn't want to so he left it alone. "–is looking for him."

Mikasa was too nervous to notice how the three visibly stiffened at Marco's inquiry.

"No, he is out dancing with-" Connie covers his mouth before he can finish the sentence, glancing nervously at Armin.

Jean was tongue-tied and just continued staring at Mikasa so Armin took the reins. "He'll surely come back here since he's dancing with my partner so you can just wait for him here."

With no other choice, she gripped her dark periwinkle cloak that matches her dainty hair accessory and nodded.

They were silently covertly trying to figure out who Mikasa is to Eren but couldn't ask because they are all intimidated by her. Even Jean who usually talks the best to the opposite sex was currently inarticulate. He was left stealing glances at the mysterious lady.

Mikasa recognized Sasha's brick red cloak heading towards Ymir who was hiding behind a column. It was time for them to go…

She closed her eyes and inwardly sighed before her face returned to a neutral expression. "Gentlemen, thank you all for your assistance." She is mostly looking at Marco. "It's time for me to go. If I may ask for one last favor…"

Armin's eyes widened in realization as she held out an envelope with a familiar wax seal to Marco. "Lady Mikasa Ackerman?"

Mikasa held her breath and couldn't speak. Her mind raced towards the consequences of getting caught.

Noticing her nervousness, he quickly introduced himself. "My name is Armin–"

"You're Armin Arlert, Eren's friend!" Her eyes lighted up in relief. "He talks about you all the time. It's as if I know you too by now."

Armin blushed but his bashfulness was soon doused with cold water.

"I need to go… Congratulations on graduating." she looked into his eyes to convey that she was in a tight spot. “If you could pass this letter to Eren." She gave him the letter.

Mikasa panicked seeing Ymir marching towards her. "Thank you so much for being his friend, Mr. Arlert.”

Ymir took advantage of the crowd dispersing from the dance floor. "We need to go, Ackerman." she hissed. Ymir yanks Mikasa away because her feet seem rooted on the floor.

She turned her head, meeting Armin’s eyes one last time "Mr. Arlert, please tell him that I'll see him soon–" Sasha held Mikasa’s other arm to help Ymir and Mikasa could only let them pull her away.

Even when it seemed hopeless, Mikasa still kept her eyes on the crowd because she was hoping to at least see a glimpse of him.

***

“...Mikasa Ackerman?” Jean was besotted by her beauty.

They all felt equally spirited away by what happened recently.

“So that’s what the Duke of diamond’s mysterious daughter looked like.” Connie was thoughtful, trying to piece things together because something is not adding up to him. “I heard that after the first duchess’s death, the duke became extremely protective of her and that is why she wasn’t let out.”

“Isn’t it because she was a delicate and sickly lady?” Marco chimed in having heard the rumors too.

“That too.” Connie agreed.

While his friends speculate about the Ackerman lady, Mikasa’s desire to see Eren resonated deep inside Armin. Aside from anger and indifference, Armin never saw much from Eren… it was as if someone ripped his heart out and replaced it with straws. It was almost as if he was so keen on ceasing to be human. The only times he saw his friend become human is when he read those letters… so he did what he did best. “Jean, Marco, ready some horses.”

“Connie, let’s find Eren. Maybe he can at least send Lady Mikasa off.” Maybe it was his guilt of having been jealous of Eren even though he knew deep down he wasn't at fault. Maybe it was the hint of Eren and Mikasa’s close bond. He didn't know for sure but Armin was determined to let them meet.

Although they didn’t get why they sensed the urgency of the situation and followed Armin’s instructions.

Connie has never been happier seeing Eren. "Where have you been?!" He was pissed because it reminded him of his younger sister's recent passing. "You just missed your sister!"

“Quick, you might still catch her!” That was all Eren needed for him to run, Armin and Connie were far behind him as he sprinted.

“Jean and Marco already have the horses ready.”

“Where would we catch her?” Marco asked, trying to make sense of a plan and Armin groaned because he also has no idea where and it was a huge oversight on his part.

“Should we head for the gate now?”

Eren ignored all of them and rode in the opposite direction because he knew exactly where Mikasa would be.

“Eren, slow down!” All animosity from earlier was forgotten.

They were all worried that he would get in an accident with how reckless he was riding. He ignored their warnings and continued to whip his horse to go faster.

Seeing the body of water below, he jumped off his moving horse and went for a shortcut using the cliff.

“Eren, stop!”

“DON'T!”

“That is dangerous!”

“Stop!”

Eren slides down to reach the royal docks. He didn’t stop when he reached the bottom and just ran for it.

The other four sighed in relief when they saw that Eren didn’t topple to his death.

"Suicidal bastard…"

Eren stopped running when he saw women in white gowns. They are in line to board a ferry boat to get them back to Founder Ymir’s no man's island where the main temple is located.

If all the air in Eren’s lungs disappeared because of his recent strenuous activity or seeing Mikasa again, he wasn't sure.

It was late at night but he can recognize her gait and the way the moon shines on her no matter how far. He slowly went forward to get a closer look at her.

Mikasa walked forward to board the ferry when the wind surged forward. The hood of her cloak went down, revealing the bellflower hair comb that he gave her years ago.

“Mikasa,” he whispered and slowly walked closer.

“Mikasa” He can’t call out to her loudly as she might get in trouble. Eren can only call in silence.

“Mikasa…” please look at me. The ferry started moving away from the shore.

And as if she could feel someone looking at her, Mikasa turned around against the direction of the wind, sending her long hair forward.

It was dark but she saw a man standing by the docks.

“Eren…” She doesn’t know how but she can somehow tell that it was him. She can’t properly see him because of the growing distance as the ferry moves farther away from land but what she can discern is how he’s bigger and taller than how she remembered him in her memory.

Mikasa wished that she could see his eyes as it was her favorite feature of him.

Eren raised a hand in the air in a pathetic attempt to wave and Mikasa did the same.

The two of them remained to look at each other with a hand raised as the darkness and distance swallowed them up, little by little. Disappearing slowly from each other's view once more as they did years ago.

Eren slowly put down his raised hand when all he could see now was darkness and a tear fell on his right eye as he did.

That’s the scene Eren’s friends stumbled upon. His back was turned on them but they couldn’t interrupt him. They just realized that Mikasa Ackerman was studying at the temple. They don’t know much about the Church of Ymir because none of them are particularly religious but they knew what being a priestess or studying at the temple meant. It was a fact that added a layer of complexity to the whole situation they didn’t have a grasp on.

For years, Eren Ackerman was a puzzle even to the people he interacted with. They didn’t know what to make of him. There is this signature methodological coldness with the way he handles things which reminded the people of Levi Ackerman but he wasn’t quite a Levi.

Some people would even turn around and go the other way if they see him in the hall sometimes. He walks the halls with this cold rage seeping through him. Some beg to disagree like Armin because he has never seen anyone as passionate with everything he puts his mind to. Even with the makings of a deranged tyrant, he attracts people like moths to the flame because of this promise and potential that he shows. For all they know, he could just be cruel and vindictive but Eren has a great gift that makes it seem like he has a reason for him being the way he is despite not explaining or showing any cracks.

Armin approached Eren to pass on the letter. “I think she wanted to give you this herself but…” The guilt is swallowing Armin alive. “She told me to tell you that she’ll see you soon.”

Eren covertly wiped the tear that escaped his right eye and turned around to wordlessly take the letter from the blonde’s hand.

Mikasa would be going out of anyone’s touch in nine years but nobody else came to see Mikasa off but Eren. Not their parents, her dandy uncle, or even Levi who was off attending to an important business.

In Eren’s mind, it was fitting, poetic even because it’s always been just the two of them. Neither of them has to be alone anymore because they have each other now. They agreed under their tree on the top of the hill. It will always be them against this cruel world.

After loading her baggage inside the carriage, the priestesses escorting Mikasa gave them some privacy and stepped away a little. Eren wasn’t fond of talking and Mikasa was never good with words so she just hugged him tightly and gave him three forehead kisses which were so convenient because of their height.

In the faith of Ymir, it was said that three forehead kisses symbolize giving someone support, protection, and love. Before he had any chance to hug back, she already pulled away.

"I'll see you later, Eren."

In stories, white horses symbolize everything that is good in this world but Eren disagrees.

The white horses pulling its white carriage took her away from him.

Just like those white caskets, nauseating pure white roses that everyone who has an ounce of royal blood seems to adore… He was sick of having what he had, taken away from him when he never had much to begin with.

It was a silent ride after that. Nobody said anything or attempted to crack any jokes as a form of solidarity. For all they know, that was Eren’s one chance of seeing Mikasa and he missed it.

The cool rose scented air did wonders because everyone’s mood was lifted. The party moved to the garden when they came back.

The royal garden was famous for only containing white roses. Even Historia was in an ecstatic mood and was back on Eren’s side as his partner after she returned.

Not long after, the fireworks show had already started. Everyone was looking at the sky, marveling at the flashy fireworks on display. But no fireworks will ever be bright enough to pull Eren out of the darkest gray he found himself in.

His last night at the academy wasn't spent partying with his friends. He spent it alone in his dark room. He can hear the faint howls of laughter because most decided to take the party back to the dorms.

Eren has an arm covering his eyes as he repeated her name like a prayer. He’s longing and always yearning for her. It’s like losing her all over again and he decided right then and there that he’s had enough of that.

They’re never going to lose each other again after she comes home a year from now.

#eren nurturing his grudge as if it was his firstborn #i like eggs and this fanfic is full of them #eremika #eremika fanfic

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sunshinesukuna · 5 years ago

Text

crying in my prom dress (hc scenario)

🦉 pairing: bokuto koutaro x reader

🦉 genre: fluff, lil angst

🦉 tw: corona virus, light swearing

🦉 summary: you finally make good use of your unused prom dress with bokuto

🦉 inspiration: prom dress - mxmtoon

quarantining with bokuto wasn’t all that bad

if you learned to get past his salty pancakes and soggy cereal, maybe you would be treated with a mean scrambled egg

despite being inside all the time, bokuto found good ways to take advantage of his restlessness

one of them was surprisingly, dance

turns out he has skilled hips that can be used both in and outside of the bedroom

with a few tutorials from youtube, he was moving like had danced latin and ballroom his whole life

his favorite were the waltz and the chacha

this boy literally sAuNTeRs through the hallways repeating the step sequence

“a 1 and a 2 and a 3 4 5 6 boom, hiyaa! bang, bang pow!!!”

he rewatched ‘welcome to the ballroom’ three times already, you counted

you were just glad to watch whenever you could

but he did come to ask you to join him once in a while, which you declined.

you had duck feet and weren’t any good on a dance floor

now you were laying on his bed after a night shower, and scrolling through your phone

out of boredom, you decided to open Instagram

your phone brought you to look at your archived stories from the past

‘on this day last year’

you were dangling from bokuto’s neck in a long grey dress you remember you had bought for your junior prom last year

there was a big smile on both yours and bokuto’s faces as he held on to the ‘FUKURODANI’ balloons above

in the background, akaashi and the rest of the members of the volleyball team looked like they were having the time of their life partying

the bass of the music and the buzz of the night reverberated in your heart

you kinda missed it

wait... wasn’t the dress still lying around somewhere in your closet?

you hopped off the bed and started rummaging around in your wardrobe, before catching sight of the grey cloth you had worn on last year

let’s see if it still fit you

it was a little bit tight around your ribs, but other than that, it fit perfectly.

had the virus not struck at this time of the year, maybe you would be in the same place with bokuto, except this time it would be your last prom at fukurodani before you left to go off to college

you bit your lip

sure, it wasn’t your fault or anything, but more than anything, you just wanted to go back in time back to that moment

you were sure that you would forget it in the years to come, and you didn’t see any point in actually going

until bokuto asked you

that sealed the deal as one of the best nights you had in a long time

you really really missed it right now

still being in the dress you wore that night wasn’t helping

and the fact that you won’t be able to experience something like that again...

you looked down at the dress to notice something wet on it

took you a little while to realize you were sniffling a bit

you reached for the tissues on the nightstand at the same time the door to the bedroom opened

enter your lovable boyfriend, who walked out of the shower to see you crying on the floor in your old prom dress

emergency mode: ON!

he crouches down on the floor, not daring to look you in the eye in fear that he might start crying too.

so he settles on crouching behind you

“do you want to tell me what’s wrong, (y/n)?”

he gives you what he thinks are soothing massages

in reality, he’s just patting you on the back sloppily, but the gesture is enough to get the message across:

‘i’m here for you. i care for you’

it’s a primal instinct that makes you cry even harder.

you don’t really know what to say.

were you just going to blurt out: “i wanna go to prom and meet all of our friends again?”

that sounded too selfish

so you settle for burying your head in his open arms.

he’s just finished showering, and your tears and sweat are mixing together on his neck, but he would go through a thousand boiling hot showers if it meant you would just smile again.

he waits.

and waits.

and realizes what you have on.

kou has vivid flashbacks of last year like you too, but he takes to it a little better and realizes why you’ve been crying

“oh honey... you miss junior prom, don’t you?”

you nod

bokuto suddenly stands up and puts his hands on his hips

“that’s easy!” he declares. “why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

what was this boy planning to do?

he takes your hands in his, stars in his eyes as he cooks up an idea in his mind

“we’re going to have our own prom!”

and he leaves the room

now you are in your prom dress, eyes half swollen, confused af????

what is this boy playing at?

so you’re left for around fifteen minutes, and you don’t even have the energy to pick yourself up or do anything

wether from confusion or angst you don’t know

until he comes in weARING A FULL SUIT AND BOW

“LOOK! I EVEN FOUND A CORSET FROM THE BACK!”

“you mean corsage?”

“is that what they call it nowadays?” he shrugs

“turns out those flowers were fake anyways. at least they lasted this long. oh well.”

i mean

his hair is still a little wet, and the bow could have used some ironing but...

it was the same suit from junior year!!1111

the ruffles on the fabric were all still the same, and you could kind of make out the stains from the alcohol konoha sneaked out of his parent’s cellar

before you know it, this boy is pulling you up by your arms

he pins the corsage ever so gently onto your wrist

bokuto takes his phone out from the counter where he last left it

then proceeds to turn on some 50s or 60s shit, you don’t know

all you know is that there are trumpets playing all around the room, he’s smiling his ass off, and

maybe you start to smile too

he’s just so lively

the same ace that can so easily crush his opposing team’s hopes and dreams lifts yours up with the same ease

you don’t know when the tears dry up

maybe sometime during the dance off when bokuto found the soundtrack to pulp fiction

you know

the dance off

he does it so well too!

but the tears are now gone, wait, nope

they’re still there

you’re just not crying because you’re sad anymore

there’s a thumping in your chest, the same ones you had on the night of junior prom

and how the f this one guy can manage to recreate it with such short preparation is amazing

some tacky saxophone comes on

had you stumbled across this type of music in the car or in a rather calmer situation, you would have pressed play immediately

you don’t even care, because suddenly, bokuto’s arms are around your midriff, and you’re face to face with his wide chest

his bow was gone during all the partying you two had, but you couldn’t care less

the wooden floorboards stung your bare feet, a little, but you didn’t hae much time to dwell on that

bokuto started moving

he was dancing, you realized

the song was from one of the video clips he had learned from; the same on that the had repeated the most

the waltz

but unlike the professionals he had learned from, who walked with grace that spoke of hours and hours of practice

his walk almost whispered the raw amateurity of it all

is that even a word?

to do things just because you like it, no other strings attached

and you love it. you don’t even have the guts to pull back because he’s enjoying it, which automatically makes you want to enjoy it, and he’s enjoying it because you’re enjoying it, and

the cycle goes on

“did you have fun, (y/n)?”

bokuto’s panting a little, and so are you, but you manage a quick nod and nothing else

his heart rate is faster than usual as you lean on it and sway along with his guidance to the music

maybe quarantine prom wasn’t so bad after all

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threeletterslife · 5 years ago

Text

Our Love Like Fibonacci

→ summary: Namjoon likes to solve the never-ending Fibonacci Sequence. The act is reassuring, satisfying, even. It reminds him that there are things other than his life that are never-ending.

→ pairing/rating: namjoon x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 95% mellow angst, 5% fluff | reincarnation!au & immortal!au

→ warnings: death, very brief mention of suicides

→ wordcount: 2.5k

→ a/n: thank you to the wonderful @aaugustlee, @fangirlfeelz and @meowxyoong for beta reading!

♫: Jamais Vu by BTS | Something Better (feat. Lady Antebellum) by Audien

cr.

There is no one on this Earth who has endured more misfortune than Kim Namjoon. Namjoon likes to tell himself that he is in a blessed curse. For more than one thousand years, Namjoon's been stuck at the age of seventeen. He has not aged one single bit physically, but his mind has gone through much more than what an average man would experience in his lifetime. Namjoon's known disastrous conflict, suffered through world wars, survived global pandemics and loved only one woman in his life.

That woman is you.

For 1,026 years, Namjoon has been a man of change. He has accustomed himself to more than thousands of cultures around the world, learned hundreds of languages and fought through the perils of social media in the recent twenty-first century. But if one thing hasn't changed at all; that's you.

You're fated to die at the tender age of seventeen—the same age that Namjoon is stuck in for all of eternity. And fate so happens to bring you and Namjoon together every time. Just a week before your death, you are always scheduled to meet this immortal Kim Namjoon. You are to fall in love with him in seven days and convince yourself that you will live with him forever and ever. Then the universe will cruelly take your life.

Namjoon's watched you die many times. Sometimes, he is unable to hold you in his arms when you're at your very last breaths. Other times, he is with you when you die. Fate is random and strikes when Namjoon least expects it.

When you die, Namjoon must wait another decade until you are reborn. Then he must wait another seventeen years until you turn of age. But those first ten years are always the hardest because he knows you do not even exist in the world anymore; the universe feels empty without you. The day you are always born, the fateful, magical day of November 23rd, Namjoon celebrates it by himself and wishes you a happy birthday from afar. He would then wait seventeen years until fate brings the two of you together a week before your death.

Namjoon gets to see you for seven days after waiting for twenty-seven years. It's an unfair deal on his part, but it is also written in the stars somewhere above his reach that you will always fall in love with him. That is the only blessing in this curse.

Sometimes, he has a rocky start with you. The third time you were reborn, Namjoon had accidentally confessed his curse to you. You were confused, weirded-out, astonished. But two days later, you'd forgotten what he told you and became madly in love with the man. Other times, you fall in love with Namjoon from the first glance. It is always a mystery.

In fact, you are always an enigma.

Though your physical features never change, in some way or another, every time Namjoon meets you, you are another person. People are the product of their environment. Namjoon's seen you born as a daughter of a rich businessman, a princess from an obscure country, a prisoner of war, a peasant in the medieval times, and most often a middle-class citizen in hundreds of different countries. Every time, you are a different person with different values.

Before Namjoon was cursed, he thought it had been impossible to love someone through their changes. But fate has proved him wrong enough. After he's seen thirty-seven different versions of you, Namjoon is sure that he would love you no matter who you became. His love for you transcended time and bled into eternity.

He is always hit by a sense of nostalgia or what he likes to call, jamais vu, when he first sees you. He recognizes you, knows you, but you are always unfamiliar to him in the beginning. Even so, in his heart, Namjoon knows he is destined to be with you—even if it were for only seven days in twenty-seven years.

Twenty-seven years is a lot of time. Namjoon has accumulated a lot of strange, time-consuming habits. He counts sheep before he falls asleep every night. He's read every book in the Library of Congress. He learns and masters a new language every few months. He likes to listen to a lot of music to experience the changes between generations first-hand. But most of all, he likes to solve the never-ending Fibonacci Sequence.

0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8... The pattern continues on for eternity and Namjoon finds it amusing. Most people stop before they reach a number of over a million. Namjoon's been adding numbers so large these days, they can fill up a whole document when typed out. Now the digits are too long to plug into a calculator, so he's been adding the numbers himself. The act is reassuring, satisfying, even.

It reminds him that there are things other than his life that are never-ending.

This year marks your 38th reincarnation. You are a curious, intuitive high-schooler with hopes as big as your eyes and an intellect as sharp as a freshly crafted sword. This time, you are from a privileged upper-middle-class family, born as an only child and pampered with kisses and words of encouragement from your parents. You ask Namjoon a lot of questions.

How am I only meeting you now? Where are you from? Why do you know so much about history? How many languages do you really know? Why do you look so familiar?

Namjoon prefers the shy version of you who comes once in a couple of hundred years. You ask fewer questions when you are timid, and that means there is a smaller chance of Namjoon slipping up and telling you about his curse.

Regardless of your changing personality, any time Namjoon spends with you is a happy time.

But you are extremely persistent this year. It's as if for the first time, you know what Namjoon is dealing with. It's as if you can sense there is something off about him. This reincarnation, you were gifted with an innate talent for reading people, for noticing the infinitesimal details no one else bothered to notice. You are an inquisitive, confident young lady no longer oppressed by a highly patriarchal society. Namjoon isn't used to you being so straightforward, but a lot has changed for the women in society over the years.

You tell him that you want to know why he seems to know you so well. Why he seems so familiar to you. Why he acts like he's seen terrible things in the past. Why he seems to be hiding something from you. You're compelled by him and you don't quite understand why.

"Every time I see you," you say, "I have déjà vu."

"Really?" Namjoon says.

"I just can't put my finger on it," you say. "But I've totally seen you somewhere before. Maybe in my past life?" you joke.

Namjoon smiles understandingly.

"Sometimes, when I look at you, I see a man who's dealt with time itself," you say. "Is that weird? Does that sound weird?" you laugh at yourself. "I don't know. I just get this vibe."

"Are you calling me wise?" Namjoon chuckles.

"Yeah," you say, bluntly. "You hold a lot of knowledge in that snatched head of yours," you snort. "Like, no cap."

Namjoon squints, but smiles. It seems just like yesterday when you had been speaking in medieval English. Now, you're speaking in an increasingly popular dialect dominated by young teenagers who use Twitter religiously. It's interesting to see how time can shape you.

"What kind of knowledge?" Namjoon asks.

"You have a seasoned nuance to your voice," you point out. "And sometimes, when you gaze far off into the distance, you look like you're having war flashbacks."

"Really?" Namjoon laughs. You're not wrong. He often thinks about the wars he's lived through, the atrocities he's faced, though he tries not to show it. Again, you prove yourself to be incredibly observant.

"Yeah," you say. "I've seen you in my dreams before. You were my knight in shining armor when I was a princess..." you hum, closing your eyes as if to recall the memory.

Namjoon remembers that reincarnation. You'd been beheaded after the peasants in your kingdom had rebelled against your parents, the king and queen.

"You were the local farm boy I was in love with as a peasant," you giggle. "I have a lot of wack dreams." Hundreds and hundreds of years ago, it had been true, too. That year, you'd been killed off by the plague.

Never in the 1,026 years that Namjoon's known you have you ever remembered your past encounters with him in any way, shape or form. You're special this year; Namjoon can feel it.

"And you know? The day before we met, I had a dream full of numbers," you confess. "It looked a lot like a pattern." You squint. "If only I could remember the sequence... The numbers were increasing, too."

Shivers run down Namjoon's spine. There's no way. "Did it happen to be the Fibonacci Sequence?" he asks.

"The what?" you say.

"Zero, one, one, two, three, five?" Namjoon says. "You know? That sequence when the next number is found by adding up the two numbers before it?"

"Wait," you say. "I know what the Fibonacci Sequence is... But how did you guess?" you say carefully as if you were testing the waters.

"Um, well..." Namjoon sighs. "It was a lucky guess, I suppose."

"Or we're just soulmates," you giggle.

Something like that, Namjoon thinks.

"We definitely know each other from past lives or something," you declare. "Though I don't remember anything..."

You can't possibly be so casual about this. Don't you know? You're going to die in two days. And he's had to love you through the pain, get over your many deaths...

When Namjoon's silent, you speak again.

"You know, I've had a reoccurring dream my whole life," you say. "I die in this dream every time."

Namjoon jerks his head towards you. "What?"

"It's always after I see you too, Joonie. I die in my dream after I meet you," you say. "All my life, I've loved and hated your face. Do you know what you mean to me? You're like a poisonous true love. I was afraid of the day I would meet you because I knew that I would die shortly after. But when I finally met you in person," you smile, reaching to take his hand in yours, "a lot of that fear washed away. I feel like I met my soulmate. And if, no, when I die, I'll die knowing I don't regret meeting you."

Namjoon is speechless. He finally manages to stutter, "W-What else have you dreamed about?"

"Sometimes I dream in your perspective," you say. "It's lonely... And sad," you whisper. "You're immortal, though you've concluded that after you tried to die many times. Oftentimes, I wake up crying for you."

"God," Namjoon mutters under his breath. "You know everything, don't you?"

You beam. "I guess so."

"You've been waiting for me."

"Well, I always knew we'd meet one day," you confess. "I prepared myself to love you, too, you know? And in the last few years, I've been writing mini letters for you to read after I'm dead and until we meet in my next life," you say. "I wrote 108 so far! Do you think that'll cut it?"

"Y/N..." Namjoon breathes. "Of course that'll cut it. That's the best news I've heard in years."

"Great!" you say, giggling. "I hope they're not too cheesy for you."

Namjoon shakes his head. "No, I have a feeling they'll make me happy for a long time," he answers. "Thank you."

"Be sure to read the first letter on my 18th birthday," you reply, smiling softly. "You'll appreciate it more than at any other time."

It's the first time in his extended life that Namjoon feels like you know more than him.

Once in millions of Millenniums, people like the 38th reincarnation of you are born. Those who see things they were not there for, those who are clairvoyant, those who are young yet all-knowing.

You even knew how you were going to die in this life, but you'd refused to tell Namjoon. Most times, ignorance is bliss, you'd told him.

On the day of your death, you'd given a box full of letters to Namjoon. Then, you'd taken him out on a final date in your red car. You and Namjoon had both known that this car trip would be the end of your life, but neither of you bothered to meddle with what was destined to be.

It's always 4:44 p.m when it happens. This time, it happened in a busy intersection when the car in front of you had hit a jaywalking pedestrian. You'd screamed, jerking the steering wheel to the right to avoid hitting the vehicle in front of you. But that had caused your car to swerve off the road and flip over, tumbling down the hillside. Namjoon had miraculously survived, of course. But you were dead on the scene.

He's seen you die so many times, but something about that day was particularly worse. Maybe because you knew you were going to die.

And so the depressing cycle starts again.

A few lonely months after your death, Namjoon opens your first letter on your birthday: November 23rd. He hasn't felt this giddy in a very long time.

The envelope is labeled with a large "1," which means the letters are in order. Namjoon carefully opens the crisp envelope, pulling out a folded note. The paper is crisp, so you must have written the letter quite recently.

He takes a deep breath before he unfolds it. When he sees your small, minimalistic handwriting, he breathes out shakily. His hands shake as he grips the letter, and he begins to read.

To the Man in My Dreams (aka Namjoon),

Our love is like a lot of things. But I like to compare it most to the Fibonacci Sequence. We start off at zero. Then, we add on a one. The numbers accumulate as time progresses. The pattern is familiar, but the numbers never repeat. Isn't that literally us?

The me that you know specifically will never happen again. (Trust me, I know.) But you will see girls like me in your eternal life.

Every time you work on your Fibonacci Sequence, think of me, please. And I promise in my next lifetime, you'll find me again. (Though I can't guarantee that I'll remember any of this.) I hope the rest of these letters will keep you company.

You'll like the next Y/N very much, by the way.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, indeed, Namjoon thinks. Until next time.

masterlist

#ficswithluv #btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #namjoon #joon #kim namjoon #namjoon imagine #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fanfiction #bts #bts fanfiction #our love like fibonacci #ollf

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the-orangeauthor · 5 years ago

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This or That

I was tagged by @orangeismorethanacolour !!

There are some that I just cant pick between because the tropes are so good and I adore them!!

Tagging @writingish @riceloversblog @shewhowalksbehindthewheels @hyba (Im completely drawing a blank becahse I havent done one of these in months 😅😅) but anyone else who wants to join is more than welcome!!

#writing tag game #this or that #orange answers #orangeismorethanacolour ❤

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fields-of-ink · 5 years ago

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This or That Trope Tag!

I was tagged by @waysofink and @ink-fireplace-coffee! Thank you!

Yes for some of them I chose both because it was difficult

I’m tagging @mxxnwrites, @writingamongthecoloredroses, @zielenbloesem, @rhikasa, and @druidx!

#thanks for the tag!

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ace-malarky · 4 years ago

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This or That Trope Tag #2

from @writingamongthecoloredroses!

excavating old tags from my drafts oops my bad

And there are still some I don’t know how to choose haha

@anika-writes, @waterfallwritings, @radley-writes if y’all feel like it?

#tagged and bagged

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atomic-insomnia · 4 years ago

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this-or-that tropes game

tagged by @mrs-raven-writes! Thank you!

some of these were reeeeal close...

i’ll leave an open tag for whoever wants to do it! just bold, italicize, or otherwise indicate your choice out of each set of tropes!

#writeblr #tag game #this or that #i like characters to work for what they get; darker turns to stories; & always like platonic relationships as much/more than romantic!

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etherealperrie · 6 years ago

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Drunken Moments {pt. 1}

Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor - In which reader and Roger have been friends for years and are closer than anyone could imagine, but underneath the laughter & joyous friendship lies a deep pining and love that is only revealed in the unfiltered moments (fluff/angst) -

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Italics indicate a flashback sequence. Mentions of alcohol. This is part one of (probably) two and I hope y’all like it - I’m pretty proud of it. Also taking a moment here to say thank you to anyone who reads my stuff, I love sharing with you & I love your enthusiasm 💕

You don’t bother knocking, just let yourself in. You shut the door as you step through the frame and slide your coat from your shoulders undoing the scarf from around your neck, hanging them both up on the coat rack.

“Hello?” you call out to the seemingly empty house. The sounds of clattering glass give away his location and you laugh to yourself, traipsing across the living room.

“In here,” he calls back. You follow the sound of his voice down a twisting hallway without much thought – you know his place like the back of your hand – you’d spent enough time here in recent years. Though this estate was much larger than the old flat he used to share with Brian when you were all in university, well before Queen, you’d learned the floorplan of this home just as well. This home was fit for Roger the rock n roll drummer.

“Hey,” you say softly as you push the dining room door open. He spins around at the sound of your voice, a soft smile flickering across his lips as his eyes settle on you. He takes you in, trying not be obvious as his eyes rake over the emerald green satin artfully draped around your body. He looks away from you as your gaze connects with his, his eyes darting to the floor quickly, so as to avoid getting caught.

“Well someone dressed up,” he teases lightly, pointing lazily to your dress as he turns back around to return to the table he was dressing with booze and snacks.

“Is that a bad thing? You’re throwing a party; you should take some notes.” You laugh as you cross the room to where he stands, running your hands down the front of your dress. A dress you picked in hopes he might finally take notice.

“Not bad at all, you’re going to be the belle of the ball” he chuckles to himself. You knit your eyebrows together and sigh deeply, nudging him gently as you reach across him to readjust the champagne flutes he set out in a poorly thought out display.

“Trying to set me up?” you question, eyeing him. He shrugs his shoulders and raises his eyebrows playfully, nudging you back with his hip.

“Dunno, but I invited a couple of eligible bachelors.” He says it simply but your stomach drops. To be truthful, you didn’t want another eligible bachelor when there was one standing in front of you. He’s been in front of you for years: a friend, a best friend. But, god, how you wanted to hold him as more – but you knew better than to hope. Friendships built on years of ups and downs, laughter, and individual hardships were almost always destined to remain exactly that: a friendship.

You clear your throat and distract yourself from his words by opening a package of napkins, laying them out on the table.

“Anyway, you’re right” he says, looking down at his clothes and then back to you – though not for too long, he doesn’t want his eyes to linger. He doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. “I gotta change, just give me a minute.”

And he’s gone. You stand in the dining room alone, but you don’t really mind. This place was your second home. Whenever Roger’s gone on tour you house-sit and whenever he’s home, you spend the weekends here – a time when you two can catch up on one another’s lives. It’s been this way between you for years, ever since you met him at university. Not in class, but rather at the local college pub back when Roger was nothing more than a rock n roll wannabe playing alongside Brian and Tim in Smile.

You burst through the back doors and leant against the brick wall, shutting your eyes tightly so the room would stop spinning. You stand in the alleyway behind the pub, in desperate need for the cold night air to cool your flushed face. In need of rest, you take a couple of deep breaths and when you open your eyes again, everything comes into focus and thankfully all is still.

“You alright?” a voice calls out. You look to the left where two young men sit in the back of an open van, a bunch of music equipment surrounding them.

“Hope our set didn’t make you sick,” one of them shouts to you. The boy’s hair is long and blonde with feathery bangs hanging in his eyes. You sigh heavily and wave them off, leaning your head back against the wall. You’d gotten a bit ahead of yourself – you’ve never been good at holding your alcohol.

The boy next to the blonde, a curly mop of dark hair sitting atop his head, rummages through the van for something. He pulls out a water bottle and as you tilt your head to take another look at them, he holds it out to you.

“Thanks,” you say, pushing yourself off the wall and wandering over to where they sit. You take the bottle and open it, taking a sip. You should have been doing this sooner, but your hand too quickly reached for drink after drink – not bothering to pace yourself. You gulp half of the bottle and the boys watch, unsure of exactly what to think. “You guys played tonight?” you ask, breathless from drinking. Something about them looked familiar, you’ve probably been in class together, but you couldn’t be certain.

“Yeah, our last set ever apparently,” the blonde one grumbles.

You take another sip of water, raising your eyebrow inquisitively. When you came out for the night you weren’t expecting to be in a dark alleyway with two men you didn’t know but if you were being honest, having company felt nice. You came out alone, but you didn’t feel it anymore.

“Well our lead singer just quit so, yeah, looks like we’re out of performing for a while,” the curly haired boy huffs. He scoots aside to make room for you to squeeze in between them and the guitars, amps, and drum set. He extends a hand. “Brian May,” he says casually.

“Y/N” you smile. Your head was pounding but you push the pain aside.

“This is my band mate, best mate, Roger.”

The blonde boy holds his hand out and you shake his as well, relishing the warmth of his rough hands against your cold ones.

It blossomed from there. You showed up whenever they rang and you were there every step of the way: when they first started to play with Freddie and John, when they officially became Queen. When Queen recorded their first album, to their first UK tour, then US tour. Record after record, tour after tour, etc. you were with them. You’re close with all the boys, but Roger especially. You loved him from the moment you saw him, but all he ever was with you was soft, silly, and kind: a friend. He never showed an interest in you the same way he did with other girls he met on the road. He lusted after dozens, if not a hundred, in the years you’ve known him, but never you. Although it was unrequited, you stick around because platonic or romantic – you can’t give him up.

The two of you met at such an integral part in each other’s lives and despite all the fame and success, he was always there for you in ways the other boys weren’t. Maybe it was because without knowing, you’d grown up in the same small town or maybe it was the fact that you were the only person he felt he could tell everything to without judgement or pushback, like the boys gave him. Or maybe it was because you’ve seen one another through good and bad – from dreaming young children to adults with vision and direction. Either way, despite knowing how he saw you: as a confidant and nothing more, you wanted him in ways more intimate.

“What do you think?”

Roger’s voice pulls you from your daydream and the room comes back into focus. You set down a drink you couldn’t remember pouring for yourself while he was gone and watch him as he saunters into the living room where you sit, perched on the couch with your legs tucked underneath you.

“Very nice,” you say, taking in his new outfit. Gone were his track pants and jumper, each item swapped out for a wild zebra printed shirt and dark trousers, respectively, topped by a leather jacket. He does a little spin and you laugh.

Always joking.

“Wait!” you announce, hopping up from the couch. Roger stops spinning abruptly and turns to face you, his lips drawn up into a tight smile. The collar of his top is twisted, tucked in at the nape of his neck – you wouldn’t want him embarrassing himself in front of his friends. You take a deep breath and hold it as you reach your arms around his shoulders, your faces now inexplicably close. Roger doesn’t move. He’s holding his breath as well, but you’re much too focused to notice. Your hands work quickly, shaking as they turn the collar the right way, popping it up over the lapels of his jacket.

“Thanks,” he breathes as you pull away. All you can do is nod as you try to stop your hands from shaking with anticipation of something that would never come. It was silly to revel in the feeling of how close you just were to one another, his lips by your ear as you leant into him. You could never tell him or let him on to how you felt, ruining the friendship has always been your worst nightmare.

“Always looking out,” you laugh, smiling. You desperately wished you could spend the night alone with only him, but a knock at the door straightens you both up.

As a large gaggle of guests wander through the door, blowing past you as they follow Roger through the house, you hum lightly to yourself and start up the record player, shuffling through Roger’s collection to find something suitable for the party. For a moment you think about putting on an old Smile record but you push the thought aside, opting for the newest Bowie record instead.

The night escalates quickly from there, guests pouring in through the door seemingly every second. As you look around the room, you spy him dancing with Freddie, both of them surrounded by a mass of people. Women flock to Roger’s side and he tosses his head back with laughter, dazzling them with his bright smile as he spins them into him.

You clear your throat and look down at your drink, downing the remaining contents quickly. You weren’t usually the jealous type, Roger was a dear friend and you supported him endlessly – in every romantic and sexual endeavor he went with. On top of that, you knew women fawned over him on the daily, how could they not? He was Roger Taylor, the boisterous drummer of Queen. But something about tonight, when you’d tried so hard to get him to notice you, was different.

Roger’s eyes connect with yours from across the room as he dances and he wiggles his eyebrows, raising his glass to you in a mock cheers. You chuckle and raise your glass back, convincing him that you, too, were having a wonderful night. But he notices your deep sigh as you look away, filling your cup again but emptying in the same minute.

“You alright?” Brian’s voice calls out over the music, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. You turn to look at him, swallowing the champagne in your mouth before speaking.

“Yeah, great. Could use something a little stronger than this though,” you sigh, looking into your empty cup.

Brian smiles and your heart swells. Without speaking about it, he’s able to piece it all together – he knew you loved Roger, all of the boys did, it was plain to see. Plain to all but Roger.

“I got you, love. Come on, I know where he keeps the hard liquor.” Brian guides you out of the room and when Roger looks back up from his party, you’re already gone. All he sees is you next to Brian, his hand resting on your shoulder as he tows you away. Roger’s heart sinks and he sighs as a dainty hand runs across his chest, pulling him back into his reality.

Once Brian pours the whiskey into your cup, he leaves you be, knowing he really is no solace or at least not the one you craved. You stand in the dining room where only hours ago you were with Roger alone, wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on your body exploring the soft, silk fabric of your dress. If he wouldn’t see you then, he certainly wouldn’t now – not in a room full of stunning distractions.

Despite the alcohol coursing through your veins and the packed room, it’s freezing. The windows are open inviting the starry night and chill spring air inside, a breeze blowing through the curtains, sending goosebumps down your arms. It didn’t help that you chose a dress that covered so little.

“Cold?” Roger asks, turning up next to you suddenly. His eyes are bright, his smile wide and vast, feeding off the energy of the room. You’re surprised he moved away from his all too willing group of guests. His feathery blonde hair flips wildly as he moves his body along to the beat of the music, nudging you as he does do. You laugh and take another sip from your cup, reaching for the bottle of Whiskey Brian got out.

“Keeping warm with this,” you shout over the music, holding up the bottle and your cup, tipping the amber liquid into the cup once more. He swallows hard at the sight of you – you’ve never been good about holding your liquor and he knew one thing the other guests didn’t: you drink to console yourself. You watch him over the rim of your cup as you drink and he takes his bottom lip between his teeth: a thoughtful habit of his.

“Well here,” he says sliding his jacket off, “lemme help.” He drapes the red leather over your shoulders and you smile, pulling it close around your frame – it’s still warm.

“Much better,” you mumble. You had a jacket sitting on the coat rack, but this was better. If this were a movie, every guest would assume with his jacket draped around your shoulders, that you were his – but it wasn’t – and no one ever saw you as anything more than his friend.

“Just don’t steal this one too, I’m quite fond of it” he teases. You’d collected so many of his sweaters and jackets over the years. He was always worried you were cold or uncomfortable and it was the one thing he could give.

“Might have to, I think it suits me,” you laugh. God, just being in his presence was enough for you. Sure, you wanted more, but nothing compared to Roger’s banter and the sound of his laugh. If you could keep him laughing forever even in the smallest of ways, even from the sidelines, you would.

He laughs along and nods, taking the whiskey bottle from you pouring the liquid into two cups.

“Oh, I’ve already got o-” you start, but you quickly stop yourself as a well-manicured hand appears, taking one of the two cups from Roger. The drink was never intended for you. Roger spins around to greet another pair of red-rouged lips and brunette hair, draping his arm around her lazily as she takes a sip. Roger’s not looking at the nameless woman, his focus on you, but your eyes are avoiding the two of them at all costs. You didn’t know the woman and you weren’t sure Roger really did, either. He always told you if he was seeing someone new. You told each other everything.

As much as Roger tells you, you don’t know what life is really like on the road. While he confides in you, in the back of your mind, you know that sometimes he has to tell you what you want to hear. He’s a part of Queen – a worldwide phenomenon, now. Of course there were girls around him constantly and of course he feeds into them, how could he not? Months on the road, he was bound to get lonely, to crave physical intimacy – he’s confided this to you before. And though you’ve spent years beside Roger as a friend, you still wished you could be one of those girls.

You watch the brunette pull Roger back to the living room where everyone continues to dance and sing loudly. Subconsciously, you reach for the bottle but stop yourself this time, your eyes drifting to the clock. It was well past midnight. Sighing, you wander back towards the door bidding Brian a soft goodbye before you leave. Your eyes connect with Roger’s as you pull the front door open and you wave gingerly, smiling wryly.

He opens his mouth to shout something to you but you’re already gone and the red-painted lips of the brunette are already kissing him.

You unlock the front door and push it open, kicking off your shoes as you wander inside. It’s quiet and warm and familiar; a nice reprieve from Roger’s lively party. Your head is pounding and the room is spinning as you cross the living room into the kitchen, rooting around in the cabinet for a glass. You didn’t need another drink. Everyone would likely advise against it, but you’ve never been good at slowing down. You methodically pull a glass down from the cupboard and uncork a bottle of red wine, messily pouring it into the cup. You’re already drunk, but the sight of Roger with his hands roaming the body of the nameless brunette as she grinds against him, her lips on his, still burns in your brain and you desperately want to forget it – this wine was the answer.

As you stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, your reflection distorted, you tug off his jacket and throw it onto the cold tile floor, stepping on it angrily. You wished he knew why you chose this dress, dark green in color, because once – three months ago when you were out together shopping for Roger’s tour outfits, he held up a sweater of a similar color to your chest and told you the color complimented your complexion, that it made you glow and set your eyes alight. Little did he know it was simply his presence that made you feel that way. Regardless, he took notice of you then and you hoped he would tonight, but his mind was other places.

Shaking your head, you turn to the bath, filling the tub with hot water and bubbles wanting nothing more than for the water to wash your hopes away. You undo the zipper of your dress and let the fabric pool at your feet: satin. Satin because it begs to be touches and because you imagined it would feel wonderfully soft against his rough, calloused hands. But he chose to cover you up with his jacket. For a second then, you hoped he would have noticed and taken his jacket back, preferring to warm you in other ways. But it was foolish, senseless to think he’d want anything more from his best friend.

Careful not to knock over your wine glass as you step into the bath, you lower yourself amongst the bubbles, the warm water a heavenly feeling against your frigid body. You let your eyes fall shut and nurse your wine as you hum yourself into a lull, feeling at home in the silence, thoughts of Roger slipping away.

“Hello?”

Your eyes snap open at the sound of his voice. The room is fuzzy and your head is pounding unlike anyway it has before – dreadfully strong and unforgiving, everything a blur. You don’t know how much time had passed or how long you’ve been soaking for; you must have dozed off.

“Roger?” you croon.

At the sound of your voice, Roger rushes through the house, your jacket and scarf in his hands. He searches the flat for you, but there was only so many places you could be – your flat was much smaller than his estate and never changed, he knew it well after all these years. Once he spies the bathroom door shut, his heartrate slows settling back into a calm pace. He knocks gently at the door.

“Hey, you left your jacket and scarf at mine and I just thought I should drop them off.” His voice is muffled as it travels through the door to her. You splash some water up onto your face and reach for the towel, but your fingertips knock into the half-full wine glass sending the clear china to the floor.

The sound of glass shattering sends his heart into a flurry, a lump forming in his throat. You curse under your breath, but not loudly enough for him to hear. You push yourself up on the edge of the tub and wrap yourself in a towel, the sight of the room spinning relentlessly forcing you to sit down there.

“Are you alright?” Roger calls out again, knocking louder this time.

“Y-yeah,” you choke. Your stomach churns and you clutch your head as you try to stand, dodging the glass scattered across the floor, to the toilet.

“You’re definitely not,” he grumbles. “I’m coming in.” He fumbles with the door handle.

“No,” you retch, trying to keep down what desperately wanted out. He ignores your wish, pushing the door open. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of you slung over the toilet, a white towel wrapped loosely around your torso. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen you sickly drunk, you’ve gone to hundreds of parties together, but this was the first time he felt a little responsible for it.

“Jesus, love,” he breathes. He pushes the glass shards aside with his boot as he moves toward you. You clutch your towel closer to your chest as you lean over the toilet once more. You didn’t want him to see you like this but he doesn’t mind, taking your wet hair in his hand and pulling it away from your face as you retch. You lift your head and reach out to flush the toilet, closing your eyes for a moment as Roger watches you intently.

You shake your head, silently asking him to release your hair to which he obliges, his hand drifting down to your lower back.

“I’m fine, Rog, just leave the jacket and scarf in the living room” you slur.

“You’re not fine, here just let me –” he wraps his arms around your middle and helps you to your feet being cautious to keep the towel close to your body “…let me get you to bed.” He walks you slowly out of the bathroom and down the hallway to the bedroom, a place where you’d shared many intimate conversations, laughing and joking with one another as you sat on top of the covers.

Roger helps to you to the bed, setting you down gingerly, holding you there for a moment to make sure you’re able to hold yourself up. You sigh as he lets go, tugging your towel back up around your chest. Your cheeks are flushed a bright red color and so are his, but neither of you are sure if it’s from the alcohol, the steam-filled bathroom, or the feeling of your bare skin against him.

Neither of you know what to say so the room falls silent as Roger digs through your dresser, searching for some kind of pajamas. As he thumbs through the drawers he comes across one full of his old sweaters and jackets and he smiles to himself – although they were his, they’d found a home here and he didn’t mind. He quite liked the idea that you always had a piece of him around even when he was gone. Shaking his head, he shuts the drawer and opens another finally finding the matching pajama set he was looking for.

You watch him as he turns back to you, the striped cotton material in his hands.

“Here,” he says, handing you the pajamas. You take them and clear your throat. “Oh,” he sighs, turning his back to you. He didn’t really want to leave you alone in the room again – worried you might need his help – and the last thing you wanted was for him to leave, his presence was beyond comforting.

“Okay,” you breathe. He turns back around to find you dressed but still fumbling with the buttons of your top, most of your bare chest exposed. You’ve never been this vulnerable, never requiring this much attention – you were always so well put together around Roger. But tonight you’d come undone.

Roger laughs to himself and you give him a look, scrunching up your nose and sticking your tongue out before throwing your hands up in exasperation. The buttons were too damn small and your head was still pounding, making it all too difficult. Without a word he rushes to your side, quickly buttoning you up – putting you back together. He was much better about holding his alcohol, he’s had more practice, so while you’re barely functioning he’s essentially the same just less inhibited – less afraid. Less afraid to feel, to touch.

“Alright,” he sighs doing up the final button. He smiles to himself as he does so, taking immense pride. He’d slept with dozens of women but somehow this small act of kindness felt so much more intimate – he wanted to take care of you. If he could keep you safe and warm forever even in the smallest of ways, even from the sidelines, he would. “Time for bed.”

You groan as you lie down, no longer caring or insecure – you were just happy to have him there. As you turn onto your back, a thought crosses your mind. This time, feeling uninhibited, you don’t push it away.

“Rog why are you here?”

He exhales a deep breath as he pushes himself up from the bed, caught off guard. He hoped you might be too drunk to really question him, but he should have known better. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants avoiding your eye contact from below.

“Told you, your jacket.”

“Right,” you mumble. You find it odd, though, that he’d leave his party and the brunette woman behind. But to be fair, you didn’t know how long it had been. After dozing off in the tub for how long, you didn’t know – he might have not had to sacrifice anything at all.

“Do you need anything else, love?” he asks, his eyes flickering down to look at you. In the dim light of your bedroom his eyes are hooded but lush and kind, a beautiful sight you could get lost in, especially in your drunken state. You chew on your bottom lip and flip over onto your side, looking away from him to the ceiling.

“No.” You meant it, you really didn’t need anything more. You wanted more, you always would. Wants and needs are so different yet, somehow, they consume you in the same way.

Roger starts on his way out the door but stops himself, crossing the bedroom back to where you lay. He grabs the sheets and pulls them up over your shivering body, running his hand up the side of you from your hip to your cheek. The pad of his thumb runs softly over your cheek and lips. Your head spins and you can feel your heart thumping against your chest as he leans over you, his lips suddenly only inches from your own.

“Goodnight,” he whispers. Then his lips are on yours, so soft that you’re convinced you’re dreaming. He pulls back and plants another kiss to your forehead sending you into a tizzy. As he comes up from the kiss, his eyes widen, a red hue spreading across his face. You’re certain you’re blushing too, heat rising in your cheeks. He quickly takes his hands off of you and crosses the room in two strides, hurried. “Sorry, I’ve gotta go.”

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shadowingthemoonlight · 8 years ago

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SNOW PART 4

summary: after the accident, you were told your memories would come back to you, but it had been 3 years and you still didn’t know who you really were. Bucky remembers you, you were one of the things he clearly remembered but when he approached you and the life that had once flourished in your eyes was gone, as with the memory of him, was it worth the risk of telling you?Pairing: buckyxreader + the Avengers cher=snowснежинка=snowflake italics=memories bold=thoughts/dreams word count: 2.8k

warnings: angst, fluff, fear, blood

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Flashback

your pet name echoes down the industrial facility, plummeting towards the bars which keep you at bay, keep you hidden from the light and apparent to the darkness. All hunger signals had vanished along with the urge to move, you couldn't recall how long you had been here, the only thing you managed to comprehend was the name which whispered near your ears “Cher.” Footsteps approached, every step becoming louder and louder until finally, the figure hovered above where you slumped limply in the corner of the cell. the sweet fragrance of perfume overwhelmed your nostrils causing your chest to heave, an instinctual response. and with as little body strength that you managed to conjure you hauled yourself upwards using the stone wall to brace your deprived body.

“bring her” murmured Adeline in disappointment as she left. In your refusal to move Battens swatted your skin becoming replaced with kicks at your sides when you tried to cover your stomach in defence. after their torturous acts, your fragile body was a piece of art as bruises were painted across your skin with the tender wounds screaming out at the lightest touch. first, two hands grasped at your arms lifting you up and dragging you out of the cell perusing Adeline's shadow. secondly, your back was forced onto the metal slab that stood in the centre in the room with ghostly operating lights hanging above your head that drew your attention away from the gruesome machines. And lastly, the chain securing the snowflake pendant that was clasped around your neck, a pendant which held so many memories of your childhood was withdrawn with Adeline's fingertips. “Why are you doing this to me” you whimpered behind clenched teeth as unknown fluid swept into your bloodstream. Men dressed in white lab coats surrounded your body as they set up the final simulation but you were focused on Adeline, desperately searching for any sign of mercy left in her eyes. “its simple really” began Adeline staring down at you with her breath grazing your forehead and hands palming your hair. “with the soldat beginning you remember too many things, we put him back in cryo, and well you ” her voice hitched as she tugged at your hair “you are going to be our replacement, our little experiment” added Adeline. the familiar wires were placed at the sides of your temple pulsing electrical current while Adeline places the plastic guard between your teeth. “don't want you shattering those perfect teeth” she chuckled. with the current powered past 10, the agony of the electricity scorched your mind and the simple word ‘снежинка’ was repeated again and again until they were satisfied the command would finally control you. after some time the torment came to a stop but you still cried out feeling the muscles spasming beneath your skin and sanity fading away. “Cher, I want you to tell me whose fault this all is,” Adeline asked as she held onto the pendant. “Yours” you hissed while bringing your body into a seated position looking her directly in those cold eyes of hers. the pain jolted though your body once again at your response. “whos fault is this Cher” “Yours!” You wailed as the pads at your temple sparked. at every wrong response, the power increased and the urge to not say his name reduced until the misery became too much. “whos fault is this Cher" “the Soldat's” you replied finally giving in and a smirk appeared on her face.

lifelessly you stood where you had been commanded to stand, fitted with a new uniform, similar to what the soldat wore when you saw him last. the long sleeves hid the bruises that mapped your body with the only indication of injury being the slight bruising that hugged the skin underneath your gaunt eyes. "look into the lens cher" commanded Adeline which you followed at her will. with an expressionless face but distressed eyes, you looked straight down the lens while Adeline and a man stood at your side. "I think she's ready for her first mission’ Adeline announced turning to the man 'aren't you Cher?" And after the click of the camera, you nodded, a nod that symbolised you were now not only a pet but a successful experiment under Hydra’s control.

the faint sound of her heart rate monitor increasing caused Bucky to rush at her side without any hesitation at all. He could tell that she was in distress, the rise and fall of her chest had become unsteady and the faintest creases had formed above her eyebrows.

Tony and Bruce and reassured him time after time that her vitals were fine but every time she awoke remembering the past few days plus the missions she had been on left her erratic and they had to sedate her. After Steve and him had cleared the hydra base they were shown the footage, audio and files surrounding (y/n) including her ’therapy’ sessions. with what he had witnessed, watched and read he couldn't blame her for not waking up.

After he had been put back into cyro Hydra had used her family as a leverage to experiment on her. She went on 5 missions in total and then they wiped her, and let her back into the world. With three years passing they captured her again, placed back her what they once stole and gave her a sense of what a family felt like, relive some of those precious moments just so she could feel the love. the sight of seeing (y/n) being controlled by Adeline and begging for mercy made bucky's blood boil. in the entire time, bucky had known her, he had never seen her truly scared, and the look which she gave her mother the way she tried to resist Adaline's command made buckys heart clench knowing what she had experienced was more painful than anything he had done. What confused him the most was Why did they go through all the trouble, to recruit her again for another mission? why not just put her into cyro?

from the corner of his eye, he noticed her resting palm which seemed as if it had moved slightly closer to the railing of the bed and so bucky gently entwined his fingertips with hers. he tried denying that the familiar warmth and shape of her hand felt so right yet his thoughts settled just from the touch. He wondered what he would say when she woke or how she would react, would she feel the pull that he felt? or would she reject him? what was certain was he never wanted to let go of her hand, and so he didn’t.

“You're telling me he hasn't left her side since she's been here?” Tony questioned raising an eyebrow at Steve while they walked down to the recovery room where (y/n) rested. “don't you say anything to him, Tony, you know how he is” Steve warned giving Tony a side glance. In the past 2 weeks, Steve had been concerned for Bucky as he worried that the only thing (y/n) would bring him was guilt, but as They entered the room which was highly guarded against the outside, the sight of bucky eased worries and his lips were touched with a smile. Bucky's eyes were closed with his head resting on the hospital bed and fingertips intertwined with the girls. For once he seemed tranquil. (y/n) slightly stretched, her dreary eyes taking in the new surrounds until her gaze rested on Steve and she lightly smiled at him. For the first time since she had been in the ICU, she hadn't freaked out. noticing bucky at her side she shifted her body closer to him and brought her other hand to his head fiddling with the sleeping brunets locks before her eyelids closed once more.

“bruce are you seeing this?” Blurted tony looking at the structure of the serum that they drew from (y/n) blood in compression to buckys. adjusting his glasses bruce took a closer look at the two different samples noticing how they reached moved differently and also didn't share the same base sequences to code for buckys mutation(inhuman abilities). “are you sure that the serum they stated in the files was the super solider serum? because these are nowhere near identical. the purpose of this serum is to strictly rearrange the DNA in the limbic system whereas the super solider serum enhances many different systems of the body. it's almost as if..” both Tony and Bruce turned to each other as the realised what they were dealing with.

you could sense him, fell him watching you as you regained conscious, you didn't have to lift your eyelids to know his icy blue gaze was staring continuously at you but you peaked a glance anyway fast enough so he wouldn't catch you in the act.

“it's not polite to stare” you quietly put with a smirk forming on your face picturing his surprised look in your head. you giggled at the thought while opening your eyes to see him sitting closely to your hospital bed, "did i catch the Soldat of guard again?” you asked trying to sound serious but instead you bit your lip trying stop the laugh that was bubbling up your throat causing bucky to beam at how childish you sound. “how do you feel?” He asked trying to mask the worry in his voice but you heard it and caught your breath, “if i wasn't on drugs right now, i wouldn't be so calm” you spoke felling his fingers tighten around your hand and even though you hand fitted so perfectly in his you drew it away in fear,

bucky was taken back by her action lifting his hand away from the hospital bed altogether. while she glanced into his now dull eyes she could feel him trying to analyse her every move trying to understand why she pulled away from his touch. was she scared of him? did he do something wrong? did she not feel what he felt? “Cher?” bucky questioned, “whats wrong?" she tried to distance herself from images that the name held, the blood that followed, the horrors that had unfolded at her hands along with what happened after he left. “please don't call me that” she breathed with her fingers tracing the areas of her body where wires monitored her heart and needles submerged into her skin. when she first awoke minutes ago everything had been peaceful but when she now looked around the room again and noticed that it was being highly guarded, she; was being guarded something sparked inside her completely shattering the sense of peace.

“this facility is reminding me of hydra again, why is this room being so heavily guarded?” she queried trying to distract him while cautiously she began to remove the needle from her arm.

“this room is being guarded because we didn't know how you were going to react when you awoke,” he answered with his eyes motioning towards the ground. (y/n) knew that he was holding something back but now that he wasn't focused on her she took this moment to remove everything else attached to her skin apart from the heart monitor. “so you're telling me you need 15+ people armed outside just to make sure I'm alright? No it's much more than that isn't it bucky” (y/n) shouted. “(y/n) just take a deep breath and try not to focus on them focus on my breathing everything here is safe,” he assured as he brought his hand to her forehead tucking the loose strand of hair away "your safe” he affirmed cupping her cheek as she lowered her head into his palm letting out a sigh. the sound of his phone ringing broke the silence, he didn't want to pick it up but stark was calling “hello?” he said raising the device to his ear hearing the fast pace of footsteps on the other end.

“is she still here,”tony said a bit out of breath "Yes shes only just woke up" "sedate her now!" “whats going on tony" "just do it bucky or so help me god " :call ended:

“I wish i could believe that” she whispered followed by the sound of the heart rate monitor alarming that her pulse was declining. Bucky's eyes shot from the machine to (y/n) who was now standing at the edge of the bed in only her hospital gown with one hand grasping a stainless kidney dish. “ you are safe (y/n)” bucky stated beginning to walk over to where she stood in hopes of containing her but in one swift move she hurled the metal dish towards the glass at such force the the only agent who stood behind the window was killed on impact. (y/n) dived under bucks legs and bolted towards the smashed glass exciting the room and picking up the gun which the man was still holding onto. red and blue light were flashing followed by the sound of sirens screaming throughout the hallway. gun shots firing from (y/n) gun hit each target perfectly between the eyes. Bucky felt like he was watching a movie as the red a blue colours cascaded across her face when she turned to him, “STOP CHER” he screamed running behind her with panic rushing through his body as heard sheilds soldiers being told kill on sight. With her handle on the door to exiting the building the look she gave him was familiar, he had seen it right before she killed her mother. Was she trying to resist another command? In slow motion (y/n) lowered her gun and walking towards him bringing her hands to his face sweeping back his hair and covering his ears. “Печь” she spoke freeing herself from one of the things she was being controlled to do. bucky didn't hear what she said, but he knew it was one of his trigger words and once she had finished she lowered her hands from his ears and grabbed his wrists circling her thumbs on the inside of his arms, "don't come looking for me this time, " she said harshly before letting his wrists fall running towards the door shouting one final thing,

“This is all your fault soldat"

Seated around the table was bruce, steve, bucky, Wanda and Natasha who were all listening to what Tony hand to say.

"it's worse than we thought, the control they have over her is much different to what they had over bucky. The serum they used in her files isn't the super soldier serum at all instead of enhancing her strength it reprograms her memory enhancing the trigger words and maybe even allows hydra to control her from distance.." bruce stood to cut into what Tony was saying “we don't know too much about the serum, but when we relooked at the footage from where she was being kept" Bruce paused for a slight moment as he saw the images of her holding the gun to the small girl and boy,

"the footage had been cut, they must have known you were going to rescue her and gave her commands or a mission to follow through once she got inside this building." finished Bruce.

whilst the discussion was continued and Tony briefed the whole team on (y/n) showing the videos and files they had of her Bucky tried to zoned out as he was still trying to process everything that had gone down in the past few days, but as he saw himself and (y/n) on display that task became a struggle.

"you know you can leave if you want buck" murmured Steve loud enough so only Bucky could hear as he turned to face him, but he wasn't sure if he did as bucky focus now lied on the screen.

'Where is the soldat!" adeline screamed with rage as Cher had turned up alone.

"i did what you asked, I said one of his trigger words but nothing happened" the girl explained while she stood robotically, "he must have got the words out of his head" she added.

"and you told him not to come look for you?"

"yes miss"

"and did you tell him that this is all his fault?" Adeline asked while stepping a foot closer to she you stood.

"yes," she answered.

"I'm very disappointed in you cher, turning up alone, talking this long to get here its all very unlike you." she whispered with a devilish grin appearing on her face.

with her left hand, she motioned 5 of her men to come forwards and began to talk about something (y/n) couldn't here. She knew the next few weeks, months or even years were going to be bad and only prayed that bucky remembered the sign they had come up with years ago to let the other know they were lying in any situation.

"Cher, come over here for a moment, you lack in fighting skills and thankfully enough these men are willing to teach you."

each step caused the girl's stomach to hurl each struggled breath caught in her throat, every muscle tensed in defence

she prayed that he remembered the way she grabbed his wrists and traced circles on his inner arms that he would realise that she way lying and that he would; save her, once again.

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