#he deserves that especially after what happen after the Rumble last year

[smashthegiantkiller]

Moments before disaster.

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.7

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

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30th December Barcelona, Spain

There was no trace of snow in the foreseeable time and Cassandra's already gloomy mood only dropped more as she averted her eyes from the grey buildings outside.

If it was cold, it should at least snow, she believed. But she knew something like this was impossible for a city right at the mediterranean sea. The only thing they got there was humidity and gusty winds.

It was the day before New Year's eve. The second-last day of the year. One day and eleven hours more and it'd be the next year already.

It was a strange feeling considering to her it didn't feel like a year had passed already. The only evidence it did being the coldness outside that had suddenly picked up in the last two weeks. 

She returned to study a patient's file. Today would be another double-shift. Could be worse, at least she wasn't working the next two days.

After asking one of the nurses to give the patient 150mg codeine, she finished her round right on time for her lunch break. Already spotting Stella and one of the assistent surgeons and Stella's on-off-crush, Julio, sitting at a table in the far back of the cafeteria and bickering over something as usual. And Cassandra gave them a quick wave, signalising she'd seen and would join them, before going to pick her lunch. Her stomach was already rumbling when a different kind of buzzing caught her attention then. It was the phone in her pocket.

doc (6:30am): happy birthday, wherever you are :)

cool guy (1:12pm): you remembered! cool guy (1:12pm): thanks :P

Her lips instinctively curled up. It was Taehyung. 

It had been a week since they'd last spoken, which wasn't surprising considering he had a different kind of busy life.

At least he took time to ressurface at all. Kind of like a penpal, where she had to wait for his letter to arrive and respond before having to wait yet again. Especially since they were indeed one-sided penpals with him sending her postcards from all the places he visited.

She was used to it, but that didn't mean she wasn't worrying a little whenever a longer period of time passed with no trace of him. Unpredictable things could always occur, despite him and his friends being unmatched in what they did.

doc (1:14pm): ofc i did :O

After typing in her quick reply, she shoved it back into her pocket when it started buzzing again. Perplexed by the unexpected incoming call, she hesitated for a moment before eventually accepting it.

"Hey." 

She inhaled with a smile. Something about his smooth voice greeting her so cheerfully always making her a little weak.

"Hey, your timing's as great as ever," she giggled when the line moved and she took a step forward. Hearing his surprised 'Oh?'.

"To what do I owe the honour of this call?"

Taehyung could hear the smirk all the way through the line. Laughing under his breath.

"What do you mean? It's my birthday after all. So I deserve actually hearing your birthday wishes."

She bit back a laugh, having missed his silliness. "Happy birthday, cool guy. Was that all you called for?"

"Almost," he said, his tone turning gentle then,"I also wanted to hear how you were doing."

"Well, I.." she began but paused. 'Fine' was her first instinct, however, she concluded he'd most likely see through her blatant lie, because in all honestly she wasn't doing fine at all. So she settled for a more vague response. "..I'm a little tired. But otherwise everything's fine. How's it there?" She knew he'd never tell her where exactly in the world he was currently at, so she didn't even attempted to find out.

"It's.. yeah, it's great. We're working on something.." His voice faded then and Cassandra was about to carry the conversation to the turn of the year, when he spoke up again. His concerned tone taking her aback."You sure everything's fine?"

She swallowed. No matter how hard she tried, she'd always be an open book to him it seemed. Even when he was miles away. 

No, she thought, nothing's fine. I almost lost a patient because of bureaucracy, almost messed up a chest tube on another one, haven't properly slept in days, I'm gonna spend the turn of the year all alone and I'm an idiot because I miss you. 

She couldn't bring herself to let any of these words slip from her lips though. She didn't feel like making him feel bad and pity her when he was who-knew-where in the world right now and couldn't do anything for her misery anyway. Besides, she also didn't want to embarrass herself.

"Yeah, it's just, you know, work. It's not always that easy." This wasn't even a lie. But she felt he still wasn't completely sold on it. 

"Hm, you sure that's all?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because work's always tough for you but you sound more distressed than usual."

She froze. Did she? She didn't even notice anymore, but others obviously did. Or at least, Taehyung did. So with a sigh she gave in, elaborating more after all. "It does take a toll on me. And tomorrow's New Year's eve, which I can't celebrate with my family and I have no plans, which could be regarded as sad and pitiful by some, but hey! At least I'm not working like some colleagues, so can't complain." Her casual laugh to gloss over her gloominess probably sounded forced. And she licked over her dry lips. "I just didn't want to dump everything on you.. I know you're busy with your own work." Another small giggle getting automatically added at the last words, another poor attempt to save her pride. "Anyway, it's also a shame you can't see your birthday gift, you know? It's pretty mad after all."

"A mad gift, huh?" He played along with her sudden change of topics. Although he could sense there was more to her previous words. "And what gift?"

The line moved and it was almost her turn at the registry, "Never heard of a surprise? You've got to wait until coming here again."

Taehyung scoffed playfully on the other line. "Oh, that's how it is?"

"Of course."

"Alright. I'll hurry up then, I guess."

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31st December

Cassandra usually celebrated this day by playing cards and drinking with her family. Since it wasn't possible this year, she settled for eating a whole pizza by herself and watching one of her comfort shows. The perfect plan really.

It was past 10pm on New Year's Eve now and she was in the middle of her little rewatch party, when the sound of the door bell startled her and she paused the episode. 

Cassandra didn't expect seeing anyone that night. Especially since there were barely any hours left till the turn of the year.

A knock at the front door followed then, causing her to tense up even more. She wasn't a particularly fearful or easily scared person. However, due to the late hour and randomness her first instinct was to switch off all lights and remain quiet. Only when an annoyed and whiny: "Cas, open up already! It's cold!" was heard from behind the entrance door, her tense muscles finally relaxed.

The last person she had expected seeing standing in front of her door was Taehyung and yet, there he was. Doing just that with furrowed brows and an amused laugh.

"Were you hiding from me?"

"Wh.. no. No. Well, yeah, but I didn't know it was you," she defended herself with a small pout.

His cheeks were slightly flushed and raven hair tousled due to the harsh wind outside, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his dark brown coat. He looked quite cuddly and inviting.

She instantly shook that thought away, though. Eyeing him suspiciously when also spotting the bare neck and open collar.

"And since when do you feel cold?" she sarcastically snorted then. A knowing smirk on her lips as she let him enter. Meeting his wide boyish grin.

"Maybe I fibbed a little there."

She laughed under her breath, shaking her head. "What are you even doing here? Thought you were working on a job."

"Well.." He let out an awkward laugh when a shiver crept up his skin. He might not freeze, but that didn't mean he wouldn't feel the coldness at all. Especially with the temperature difference inside there. "I don't know actually."

She took a step back to narrow her eyes at the taller man. A puzzled smile tucking on her lips as she tilted her head. "So did you just randomly come here all the way from wherevever you were?"

"It's just.." It sounded too silly, thinking about it now, but frankly, he simply had a feeling of her needing him. And he realised how completely irrational and odd it must sound if he said that out loud. So he stick with another excuse. "We were done with the job earlier than expected and wanted to take a little break, so.. might as well come to collect my birthday gift."

Cassandra blinked. Somehow she wasn't quite buying it. He never struck her as a guy who'd travel countries just for a simple gift. Especially since he should know it wasn't anything of value compared to the actual treasures they were hunting.

"Hope you don't have too high expectations of that gift, though," she mumbled with a coy smile as he followed her further inside, "Might get disappointed otherwise."

Taehyung shrugged with a cheerful, almost childlike grin. "A gift is a gift. I take what I get."

He observed her crunching down at other side of the living room to pick up a rather big square, wrapped in fancy paper, from her desk. She felt her fingers trembling all of a sudden, not having expected to see him this time around after all, so she hadn't had any time to mentally prepare to get embarrassed yet. And the few steps she walked back to him clearly weren't enough.

"It's nothing special, really. I mean, what do you get someone who can literally get anything he wants? But I hope it's not too terrible."

Cautiously, he accepted the object from her with a scowl. Her intention was to lower his expectations but all it did was hightening his curiosity, especially since he didn't have any clue what it could be. He'd appreciate it either way though, whatever it was.

"Happy belated birthday, Tae."

He tried not to rip the paper when opening it, but as it accidentally did, he gave up midway and just tore it off making Cassandra laugh amused at his childish eagerness. Only for her to bite down on her bottom lip and avoid his glance when he finally unwrapped it.

His expression softened, brown eyes grew round in astonishment.

"A painting." He looked up at her in awe. "You drew this?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, still not daring meeting his eyes. "You said you liked my drawings and.. you also said you'd like having one of yourself like, and I quote, 'one of these sleazy rich guys'," she added air-quotations for the dramatic effect. Her hands dropping to the side then. "I know considering you travel around from hideout to hideout, it's not practical, but.. I don't know, maybe if one day you do get that house of your own, you'll find some space for it." 

He hummed, his eyes preoccupied with the painting in his hands.

The detailed strokes, the soft-coloured paint. He wondered when she'd even found time to create it in between of sleeping and working. What amazed him the most, however, was the expression on his painted face. The look in his eyes. It tucked on something in his heart, the way she captured this brief moment of tranquility in them. He wondered if anyone else had ever noticed this kind of expression on him when not even he himself had.

That painting was how her eyes saw him. The way she saw him. And it was beautiful. It touched him how someone could see him like this. So.. human. Not a thief. Not a gunman. Just him.

He swallowed. His silent gaze wandered back to her then, catching her impatiently peeking at him as he was taking quite some time to silently gape at the present, increasing her insecurity about it.

He didn't understand why she was belittling herself so much when she didn't have to make him a gift in the first place.

"Thank you, Cassandra," he breathed eventually. His voice unintentionally cracked at the end as it came out hoarser than expected. She had almost missed it, so quiet that it was. But when she realised, her eyes slowly met his already smiling ones and all the nervousness she had felt before was suddenly swept away when seeing the sincerity in his face. He meant it.

She gave him a small nod in acknowledgment.

"Say.." he said then, taking another glance of the painting in his hands, "You said no plans tonight, right?"

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"Should you not avoid such crowded spaces?" Cassandra yelled over the loud background chatter of half-drunks. One of them bumping into her shoulder, his red glittery party hat slipping from his head and almost poking her cheek.

Spending the final hour of the year at platja del Somorrostro, one of Barcelona's busiest beaches, surrounded by a New Year's crowd of strangers brimming the entire area wasn't where she had expected to find herself at. 

And all because of Taehyung.

His dark waves peeked out from between a couple of people in front of her, him clearly not hearing her nor noticing her absence beside him and she squeezed herself through to reach for his sleeve not to lose sight of him again. He paused when feeling the tug and looked over his shoulder, catching Cassandra puffing out her cheeks. "Hey, wait for me!" she pouted and he laughed.

"Sorry, did you say anything?"

"Yeah, I asked if you shouldn't be avoiding such crowds."

They pushed through the mess and Taehyung made space for her to follow behind him as he navigated them to a low pavement wall, seperating the sand from the street.

They reached the uplifted sea promenade soon and he climbed onto it when spotting a gap between some chatty teenagers. Holding his hand out for her which she accepted, letting him pull her up.

"More the opposite," he clarified then as he let his eyes wander over the sea of funny party hats, chaplets and woolen beanies. He could bearly spot where the actual sea began and where the crowd ended. His eyes then returned to her with a cheeky grin. "The more people, the easier it is to get lost in the shuffle."

Cassandra could only smirk at this. "I assume that's your go-to tactic at heists as well?"

"Hm, maybe. Who knows," he reciprocated her smirk. Knowing exactly how riled up it'd get her whenever he stayed vague and not providing more info. He simply enjoyed teasing her too much to ever let go of it, besides the obvious benefits of her not knowing any details for her own safety.

To be fair, this New Year's Eve was also quite different from what he'd originally planned for it to look like. The original plan foresaw him and the guys to sneak into a yacht party at the coast of Alexandria - something he wouldn't tell her though.

Partially because he didn't want her to ask why he was missing it out, partially because he couldn't let her know any details.

Furthermore, he'd never been a man of big parties and celebrations anyway, everything always seeming shallow and blown-out-of-proportion to him. And that sense only intensified when sneaking into some fancy party to steal idiots' jewelery and money. So in a way, he also did it for himself and not only for her. Besides, if he acknowledged the influence she had on him to just ditch anything at the mere feeling of her needing him, he'd need to apologise to Jimin for all the times Taehyung had scolded him for doing the same exact thing for Arabella.

"I hope we can see the fireworks from here."

Her words interrupted his train of thoughts and he watched her tiptoeing beside him before setting her heels back down and taking a sip from the mojito bottle she'd bought at a convenience store earlier. Cheeks already rosy from the alcohol in her system due to being a light-weight.

He took a swing from his own bottle of red wine. "Don't worry, we got a clear sight up here."

Cassandra hummed, getting tired of standing she decided to sit down on the cold stone next to a woman with a blue wig. Wrapping her arms tightly around her angled legs and bringing them close to her body. The midnight air making her shiver under her coat.

"Oh!" she exclaimed then, holding her phone up.

He narrowed his eyes at the dim display. The clock said six more minutes to midnight. He glanced at his wrist then, making sure his watch said the same. It was precise after all, something necessary when doing a coup. And indeed, six more minutes.

Explained why people around them became more jittery.

"Do you have any New Year's resolution?"

He mused for a moment over her question. Flashing her a grin then. "Not getting caught. You?"

The red-head lightly laughed at this before shaking her head. "No, don't think I got any."

"Huh, didn't expect that," he blurted out and felt her inquiring eyes on him.

"Yeah? Why not?"

He shrugged. For a moment he contemplated how to phrase his disbelief, licking his lips shortly which had become dry in the low temperature. "You striked me like the kind of person who'd have a whole list of resolutions to be honest. That's all."

Cassandra blinked, taken aback as she indeed used to always have some kind of resolutions while growing up and this might've been the first time she didn't. Perhaps she was more obvious than she liked to admit after all. A dry laugh left her lips then.

"Well, I used to -"

"Knew it," he grinned triumphatically and took another sip from his drink, "What happened?"

"Nothing. I just realised none of my wishes or resolutions ever came true. So I stopped."

Four more minutes.

"But if you would have to do any, what would it be?"

She took a moment to genuinely think about it and hummed while doing so. Only obvious ones popping up in her mind. "I guess.. to successfully complete this training year, not lose my mind in the hospital and.." Her eyes lowered and she paused, smiling to herself in a sheepish manner. "The last one is a secret."

His brows arched, but he didn't press considering it must be private.

He looked down at his watch again. 

Two minutes.

Somewhere in the distance behind them someone had already started blaring firecrackers. The loud cracking roaring over the drunk slurring, yells and chatter of the people scattered around them on the sea promenade. As far as the eye could see, streets were completely filled with people choosing spending the turn of the year outside among strangers in the cold. Most didn't seem to mind, Cassandra being the only one shivering.

And Taehyung noticed, scooting closer to her in a poor attempt to shield her body from the wind which had pushed its way through after all.

It was quite unfair, she pouted to herself when leaning into Taehyung's shoulder, how she, with her onion-layers of clothes, thick coat, scarf and beanie, was still freezing while he was out there with nothing but a sweater and a thin coat doing just fine.

"Thirty seconds," he announced when looking at his watch again.

Cassandra tilted her head to take a glance as well. "Twenty."

He sensed her warm breath brushing over his exposed skin. The pink-tinted tip of her nose and cheeks contrasting her pale skin which was faintly glowing under the yellowish streetlamp's light further away.

Everyone around them began counting down at the top of their lungs then.

"Ten!"

"Nine!"

"Eight!"

Taehyung searched her eyes, seeing she was already smiling at him. And they held each other's gaze while continuing counting down with the crowd.

"Seven!"

"Six!"

Their smiles widened.

"Five!"

"Four!"

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

Fireworks errupted from the main square in the distance, splashes of colorful lights painting the black sky and illuminating the crowd with loud popping sound of explosives. The hooting party horns and cheers from the crowd jarred into a deafening wave and everyone fell into each other's arms.

And yet, despite the commotion by the boisterous mass of people, all Cassandra could see was the curve of Taehyung's bright smile. Losing herself in the glittering sparkles in his irises. Just for that moment, it felt as if it was only the two of them there.

"Happy New Year, Cassandra"

"Happy New Year, Taehyung."

They laughed lightly, breaking eye-contact and instead decided to watch the rest of the elaborate fireworks show and its golden rain when some odd - to him at least - customs caught his attention then. "Why're so many people kissing or eating grapes?"

Cassandra tore her eyes from the colourful shapes to briefly glance at him, redirecting them to the night sky again. "New year's traditions. People eat twelve grapes for each month for good luck. Or kiss to save themselves from a year of loneliness."

He seemed intrigued by this. "Are there more?"

"Not sure, I don't believe in this superstitions."

He huffed a laugh at her bolt claim. "Says the girl who bought a lucky charm to a heist with her."

Gasping, she averted her eyes from the fireworks again only to face his shit-eating grin. "T-that's something different. It was my emotional support!"

Taehyung only arched a brow, continuing giving her a doubtful look. Much to her annoyance. "No, I mean it. I don't believe in these New Year's traditions. Or at least I try not to but, who knows.." A rueful smile ghosting over her lips. ".. maybe that's why none of my New Year's wishes ever comes true."

Taehyung looked at her indeciphable expression before looking back at the firework.

"What about you?" She assumed to already know his answer but she was still prying to know.

"I'm superstitious. A little bit at least."

She smiled softly, somehow not being surprised at all. "Oh yeah?"

"I need to, sometimes it's a matter of luck. Especially in what we do." He threw his head back in gleeful joy as another set of fireworks was fired. A cheeky smirk gracing his lips then. "And don't they say luck and timing is everything you need?"

She agreed. Even in medicine where everything was scientific and empirist, they still often had to rely on luck and hope. When it came to a therapy or medication to work or when the surgeons needed to wear their own lucky charms to boost their confidence and succeed in a difficult surgery. But it also depended heavily on the patients themselves, if they believed in it or not.

She laughed under her breath. It was a laugh of self-pity as she felt she neither had luck nor timing. At least not in the way she wanted to. And she emptied her bottle in a swing. A feeling of fizziness and light-headness overtaking her mind.

"You know what?" she blurted out after a short while and giggled highly bemused, "We should kiss for good luck!"

Usually she'd know despite the bubbling feelings for her criminal friend, which she still tried convincing herself didn't exist, that kissing him while being tipsy probably wasn't a good start for anything. But any rationality was clearly last seen 0.5l of mojito mix prior, the very few enzymes she apparently had to break down alcohol, already saturated awhile ago. So her intoxicated mind simply found that sudden idea marvelous and entertaining. She'd never get a proper kiss from him anyway - or any guy in the forseeable future with her work schedules - might as well make him her platonic and amicable New Year's kiss in a desperate attempt for any kind of good luck for that upcoming year.

Taehyung, however, only chuckled when seeing her flushed red cheeks and the empty bottle. Not taking her random request seriously until he saw her face turning into an offended sulk. Bottom lip sticking out. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah, it's the tradition!" she pouted, "I don't want a year of loneliness. So you gotta kiss me!" She had an adorable, almost naive giggle decorating her puffy lips. And for a second his eyes lingered on them before eventually shaking his head.

"I don't think -"

"Then don't think," she grinned. "Let's just do this. Just a quick peck."

"Okay, fine," he dragged a sigh, surprised at himself for giving in so quickly when he and Yoongi always accused Jimin of getting easily wrapped around pretty women's fingers. "O-only 'cause I really don't want you to end up a lonely cat-lady though."

Rolling her eyes, she puffed out a snort. "Thank you. That'd be very kind of you!"

She turned her body fully towards him then, head getting dizzy at her abrupt movement.

Why was he even considering this? Oh yeah, to do her a favour. 

Emptying his own small bottle of wine, he also shifted in his seat before taking a brief look around them.

Kissing in public usually wasn't his style, but this could hardly be considered public as they were practically unnoticable in the amount of people around them. And besides, there'd been several others, whether friends or couples, who had exchanged pecks at the stroke of midnight.

So he exhaled and placed his hands on her arms, holding her in place so she wouldn't accidentally lose her balance as she was already swaying with a silly smile. 

"Alright."

"Mhh, do it."

"I-I'm doing it."

"Fine, then do it."

His skin felt on fire. He shouldn't have drunk that much. He might not be a light-weight like her, but he wasn't a big drinker either.

"Just kiss me already," she began whining impatiently, wiggling under his grip. A couple of loose curls falling from the side and framing her face while doing so. "Or I'll be a bigger loner than I already am."

He frowned with a snort. "That's emotional blackmail," he deadpanned then in an attempt to distract from his irrational nervousness.

But Cassandra immediately paused staring at him wide-eyed as if someone had slapped her and she only now realised where she was and what she was doing.

With an awkward laugh, her eyes fell to the space between them. Perhaps the buzz was beginning to wear off or it was a moment of clarity, but she realised it was pointless if she had to force him. Perhaps that would even give her bad luck in the end. And she already had enough of that.

She shook her head, embarrassed of her tipsy self. "Y-you're right. Forget it. It's a stupid tradition anyway. Can't remember the last time I kissed anyone on New Year's."

His brows furrowed at her sudden change of mind. "No, it's fine. I'm gonna do it."

"No, seriously. We don't have to," she ensured him, her words muffled from her woolen scarf as she tried burying her face in it. Cursing herself from minutes ago for even speaking out that rash nonsense.

However, Taehyung's grip around her upper arms only tightened. Making her grow stiff under his stare.

"I said I would and I keep my word." His voice was calm yet determined, which surprised him considering his hesitation and she dragged a breath, straightening herself under his hands. 

Was it weird that she didn't feel nervous despite it all? Probably. She blamed her low cogitation and the knowledge it wouldn't have any romantic significance anyway. Just friends following a tradition like many others around them.

"Fine, let's go."

He swallowed as he met her warm orbs. And he began fidgeting all over again. "Alright, okay, great. That's what I'm gonna do."

"All right."

His hands left her arms, instead placing themselves around her delicate neck and caging her velvety curls in his palms. A light shiver ran down her spine and she wasn't sure if it was the coldness of his fingers or the warmth of his touch. It was firm yet tender and she sensed her pulse picking up in rate with each passing second.

"Okay, ready?"

Cassandra only nodded, unable to speak all of a sudden. Maybe she wasn't drunk enough to stop her feelings and thoughts taking over her senses after all. 

Her eyes flicked to his heart-shaped lips before making the stupid mistake of glancing back at him and meeting his eyes. His face was open and vulnerable in the streetlamps and fireworks above them and she caught a hint of wonder on it as they stared at each other. Slowly, he began leaning closer. And she swallowed down the tiny gasp that dared escaping her lips.

"One, two.." He paused then, scowling at himself. "No, wait. I'm not actually gonna count down."

"O-okay."

"That's not my style when I kiss."

"Okay."

"I don't count d-"

"Tae, it's fine," Cassandra giggled, interrupting his ramble. She'd never seen him ramble before. Was he.. flustered? She'd always imagined him kissing lots of women in disguise. Even if he always claimed not even Jimin, the actual flirtatious among them, did that.

The thumbs on her cheek gently brushed the stray strands aside then. His eyes shifting to hers again. The last fireworks sparkled in them and for a moment his heart forgot how to beat.

"R-ready?"

"Yeah," she breathed.

He closed his eyes, his face coming close. A deep crease set between his brows then, making his face look rather angry for a kiss. And her tipsy mind ultimately lost focus upon that hilarious realisation.

"What's this face!" she bursted out laughing, unable to contain herself and he backed off, irritated about her laughing fit.

"W-what face?"

"You can't make that face when you try kissing someone," she choked out in between of laughs while pointing at him.

"Oh, so you say something's wrong with my face now?" Taehyung only scoffed, somehow glad about the interruption though. He wondered if his fingers were actually shaking or if it was from the vibrations of her laughter.

"No, idiot! You're handsome and you know it!"

Startled at the unexpected compliment, a timid smirk tucked on his lips at her drunm words. His chest warming despite him downplaying the muddled feeling that was raising. "Oh, so you think I'm handsome now?"

She groaned in annoyance, lightly hitting his chest over the coat. "Don't pretend."

"So, do you want me to kiss you or not?" His teasing smirk returning.

"Maybe if you didn't make that face."

"That's very nice of you considering I'm doing you a favor here," he laughed under his breath. Not remembering any woman having ever made him laugh so much despite complimenting and confusing him at the same time. 

Cassandra inhaled and exhaled deeply, calming himself again somehow. "Alright, let's do this already. No big deal," she nodded to herself, sternly, "Just kiss me."

"Nope."

She gasped at his evil grin. "You were about to, though!"

Taehyung only shrugged unimpressed and abruptly let go of her. "Yeah, before you bruised my ego," he retorted simply, causing her to huff.

"C'mon," she nudged his arm, "I'm sorry. I promise I won't laugh again."

"Apology accepted. But I'm not gonna kiss you." His lopsided smirk torturous, making her frustration grow.

"You're making such a big deal out of it, just kiss me already!"

"I'm not gonna kiss you!"

"Kiss me!"

"No! Not like this!"

Cassandra paused. Her parted lips, ready to counter something back in their bickering, abruptly pressed together into a thin line when processing his last words. She stared at his now bewildered face when he also realised what he had just unintentionally confessed.

"What?" she blinked confused, "What does that mean?"

Taehyung's eyes were wide, panic clouding his mind. "No. No-nothing. I just, I didn't mean it like that," he began with a terrible stutter the longer he looked at her inquiring eyes.

It didn't make sense. He was always capable of staying cool-headed even in stressful situation. It was inevitable in heists and when being in diguise. Then why did he totally blank out with the way her warm bambi eyes were digging daggers into his as the seconds passed. "I just, I mean we can't like that because that's not - it's very - like, you don't.. That's not what -" 

But Cassandra didn't even seem to be listening anymore, staring absendmindedly up at the sky instead, being clearly still tipsy and all over the place - he could tell.

Taehyung stilled then. The beanie was pulled to her brows, scarf hiding half her face. Only her round eyes peeked out, holding a lovely innocent wonder in them.

It was irrational. It was scary. How it was more thrilling celebrating with her and cheap wine from a 24/7 store at the beach, than being in an expensive smoking on a yacht surrounded by millionairs while drinking the most expensive champagne.

Cassandra abruptly shook herself out of her short abstraction then and flashed him a smile. 

"Come, let's leave or you wanna get hypothermia?" She was joking, but he noticed her anew shivering and he realised she must still be cold. 

"Y-yeah, let's go."

»»»

The new year was only a couple of hours old. Quite early to go home for most, but Cassandra felt exhausted despite having completely sobered up by now. Much to her own dismay, she wasn't the night owl she'd used to be anymore.

The air felt colder when she turned into her street. The way home taking longer than expected due to what it seemed half of the city being out on the streets and traffic jams everywhere. Lines of cars, impatiently honking and only moving for a few centimetres before having to stop again.

Taehyung followed behind her, wanting to fetch his gift before leaving the city again. It wasn't unusual for him to only stay for a day there before having to move again, but somehow she'd hoped he'd stay longer. 

The night breeze hit his warm cheeks as they reached the front door and she fumbled with the keys in the dark. Eventually finding the right one and unlocking the door, allowing them both to enter.

The painting was on the coffee table where he'd left it. He picked it up, examining it one more time in silence before tucking it under his arm and heading back to where she was in the hallway. Still busy taking off her shoes and jacket.

"Thanks again for this," he smiled gently and watched her lowering the beanie, ruffling through her curls to give them some of their lost volume back. "I'll make sure to store it in a save place." His voice was almost a whisper when he attempted to open the door, only to sense her tugging at his coat.

"Wait, I-" She pursed her lips, gaze falling as she saw his questioning glance. "I wanted to say thank you for spending the turn of the year with me.. I appreciate you coming all the way here so I wouldn't be lonely tonight."

His lips parted, taken aback. Had it been so obvious after all? However, he chose to pretend being confused and not knowing what she meant instead. "Who says that was my reason?"

Cassandra shrugged, lips curling into a rueful smile. "Maybe I just wished it was.. Whatever it was, still thank you. And I'm sorry."

Taehyung frowned. Gaze falling as well. "No need to apologise," he muttered, instinctively knowing what she was referring to. He swallowed then, shoving his free hand into his pocket. 

In retrospective, it hadn't been such a big deal and yet, he was glad he hadn't proceeded to kiss her like that. He knew he'd have regretted in the long run.

"I feel like it, though," Cassandra continued then with a sigh, "I feel so stupid. I shouldn't have insisted on keeping a tradition. Especially since I don't even believe in supersticious stuff."

He eyed her with a doubtful look, making her roll her eyes and sigh in defeat.

"Fine, I do. Sometimes. Some stuff. Not all."

He chuckled lightly making her smile.

Truth was, Cassandra was disappointed in herself for getting so weak and desperate, putting him in such a position and creating this awkward tension between them.

"Tae, you didn't have to kiss me." She felt like she needed to underline this. Her voice small and filled with guilt and shame. "Please, don't feel bad."

"I know, don't worry," he reassured before they grew quiet. 

In times like this she really disliked his withdrawn and secretive personality. Usually his aloof and coy aura intrigued her, but right now she needed him to speak to her. And the fact he didn't, made her fidgety.

They stood there for a second longer. 

Faint music was echoing from somewhere in the building while the piercing sound of lonely firecrackers was heard from the streets.

"Well, okay good then.. goodnight. And Happy New Year again." She tried sounding cheerful, masking her regret of screwing things over in her irrational state.

She wouldn't see him again for an indefinite period and that was how they'd be parting ways now. She hated herself from two hours ago.

Dragging out a breath, she reached for the door handle to let him out when a grip on her elbow prevented her from doing so. 

Taehyung grabbed her arm and in a swift move, pulled Cassandra into his chest. Strong arms catching her, wrapping around her smaller figure and before she could even properly react, his lips had already engulfed hers.

That was it. All the self-control she'd exerted over the past months went straight out the window in that moment. Her neurological system completely shutting down by the overload of neurotransmitters, hormones and endorphines, simply swiping her mind blank with the only remaining thought being how incredible his warm lips felt against hers.

Her arms instinctively found their way around his neck to pull him even closer. Feeling the cold metal of his necklace against her fingertips. And she kissed him back fiercely, Taehyung wounding his hands more into her long hair at this. It curled around his fingers, silky and fluffy and for a moment he lost any sense of time or his surroundings when all he could feel was the vibration of her skin against his and the bewitching rum-lime taste of her lips full of unspoken feelings and endless promises. 

Their lips moved, molding, melting into one another. Whatever logic and reason there had been, had long gone away. There was nothing left but their intertwined lips and breaths.

Eventually, they slipped from each other after what felt like an eternity but could have only been a minute. Panting against each other.

Their eyes remained closed, not daring opening and letting that moment ending in smoke so soon. Taehyung rested his dazed forehead against hers and leaned in. Planting one last kiss on her lips, this time less heated but rather tender and mellow. Savioring the last bit of the sour-tasting liquor mixed with his sweet wine. And Cassandra leaned into him more before they let go of each other at last.

Her eyes fluttered open immediately, dark lashes lining against her pale skin in a state of surreal haze. He wasn't sure if she'd ever looked more beautiful as in that moment, right after he'd kissed her and he felt the urge to do it again at this sight. 

"I meant something like that."

With that, he stepped back and picked up the painting from where he'd set it on the ground. Brushing past her. And he left without saying anything else.

Cassandra stood there in the empty hallway, stunned. Everything around her was spinning and she feared she was intoxicated all over again.

Her fingers slowly rose then to touch her numb lips. Ensuring they were still there. Along with the lasting sense of Taehyung's touch.

Her New Year's wish had finally come true.

»»»

next chapter: 0.8 here

Don't forget to like, comment & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

taglist: @lilanyxta @naoolammao345 @memna234 @tetehion @myblacklilame

[frenchbreadandeggs]

Wrong Cinderella │2│

pairing: shoto todoroki

summary: Reunited with his mother, Shoto faces the last order from his father, Enji, to pick a woman in the ball that will be held during his birthday and marry her. Absurd and stupid when he first heard it, but later on took an effect on him. Falling in love with the woman he met with the white mask.

Your life was normal if you were asked how your life has been lately. Working as a normal salarywoman and a good friend to Izuku and Katsuki. Until there was a knock on your door and revealed Shoto, the son of the richest CEO in Japan and who also owns the company you were working at, tells you that he has found you.

You were clueless, what does he mean that he has found you?

cw: fem!reader

chapter one's here!

Shoto stormed inside the mansion’s living room. Fury rumbled inside his beating chest, he walked with precise steps even with his emotions rising with madness. Albert notified Shoto that his father, Enji, settled a ball for him. After hearing the disastrous news from the family butler, Shoto swiftly walked back home, leaving his favorite soba he ordered.

He opened the door with a grim look.

“There you are.” Enji’s voice echoed in the almost empty room, “I know you’re the kind of person to defy my order, just like your siblings.” He said, mumbling the last sentence so Shoto wouldn't hear what he mentioned.

Ignoring what his father said, he spoke, rage mixed with his voice, “What kind of rubbish idea for you to arrange a ball for me?”

“It was mine.” A frail but soft voice replied, her ashen eyes looked at Shoto.

“...Mom?” Suddenly, his anger faded away and his face softened by his mother’s gaze. The fury swirling in his chest calmed down with celerity, oh he missed her so much. After years separated from each other, they met again.

“Take a seat.” Rei uttered, smiling at her youngest son. He missed those little smiles from his beloved mother.

Shoto silently followed his mothers orders and sat across from her. Why was she here? She was supposed to be in the hospital, recovering from those painful scars in the past.

“Your mother got discharged from the hospital two hours ago.” Enji stated, staring at Shoto with his cold eyes. “We talked about your marriage, and it seems that your mother wants to help. Which I oblige.”

He cleared his throat and continued to talk, “Even though what she told me was below my standards, I accept it, after all you deserve something for your own.”

Deserve something for himself? Did he hear that correctly from his father? This was new to him, his father would pick a rich daughter from one of his co-companies and shove her up in Shoto’s ass. It was unlikely from Enji to do this kind of thing.

“It’s unlikely for you to do that.” Shoto snarled.

Rei shook her head and spoke, “Don’t worry Shoto, I convinced him to do that.” She looked at the half and half boy with a weak smile on her face. Even Rei is tired of Enji’s doings for their family for years. But what surprised her was when Enji told her something when he was picking her up from the hospital.

She paused before continuing, gazing at her son’s heterochromia eyes.

“Let’s listen to your father first.”

“Father.”

“...”

“Thank you.”

He couldn’t say anything to his mother. Especially when she came home, emotions swirled in his stomach. He wanted to cry, he wanted to cry in her arms, hug her tightly. But he can’t, it might be weeks for Rei to warm up to Shoto, he was the reason who gave trauma to her right?

“As your mother requested, we’re going to hold a ball for your celebration and have every girl your age participate, it’s your choice which girl to choose. With or no social status, rich or not, having a quirk or none. It’s your choice, I’m not going to do anything but to give approval which I would gladly give.”

Now this is getting ridiculous, this is not him, not him at all. He’s a power hungry man, wants popularity. Everything you could imagine with this man. But what happened? Did he really change like that? Or he’s doing this and he’s planning something on his back.

“Why didn’t you do this to my siblings?”

“Because I was ignorant.” Enji stated, not looking at his son anymore, “It was selfish of me to shove everything to my children. I was overstepping their boundaries.”

Looking at his shocked son, he spoke, “I would gladly give everything to you… since I broke your childhood.”

Shoto sneered, still not accepting his father’s gift, “You’ll never change by using mom against me. I’m not going to agree with your ball, whether it’s mom’s idea.”

He stormed out of the living room, leaving the two adults alone. The two sat in silence, not knowing what to say to each other.

Enji sighed, “This is my fault anyways, I’m so sorry.” He looked down at his tea, seeing his reflection in the clear beverage. The man looked at Rei, she stared at him with her gray eyes, telling him he could speak. “Please convince Shoto to accept this, if he still doesn’t want to then it’s fine. There will be no ball or marriage happening.”

“I will try.” Rei spoke, and stood up holding the table for support. She opened the door of the living room to leave when her husband said something unexpected.

“Thank you.”

Rei walked on the felt fabric of the hallways, the sun shone at the windows having its sun rays paint on the red floor. Only her footsteps echoed across the empty corridor, it had been a while since she walked in her so-called home. Many changes made the white haired woman confused. Gladly, Albert showed her the way to Shoto’s room.

She never felt this nervous before. Her hands trembling underneath each other, was it because of the incident years ago? 

No no, she must face her son. He has gone through a hell of a childhood—no mother who could support him, away from his siblings, and an abusive father pushing his limits. It pains her to see her soon-to-be twenty-one-year-old son suffering under his father’s roof.

“I can’t raise him anymore, I want to run away from this life.”

“Mom?”

“Mom?”

Rei jumped, turning her head towards Shoto’s room. She saw the boy standing outside his door, judging by the cap he’s wearing, Shoto’s going out. Gulping, she forced herself to smile.

“Can I have a minute before you go?”

Shoto looked at her confused, thoughts then again swirled around him thinking what would his mother tell him. All he could do was nod while the woman smiled.

“Do you want to talk in the dining room?”

Rei shakes her head in response, saying that it’s better to talk inside his room since there would be maids  doing their work and it would be troublesome for them.

The young boy closed the door behind them, he looked at his mother who was already seated on his bed. She softly patted the free space beside her, telling her son to sit with her—next to her.

When he sat on the soft mattress, two arms engulfed him with a motherly warmth. Shoto sat there, surprised, not knowing what to do, making the hug awkward. He heard small sniffles from his mother that made him pull away from her. Rei looked at him with pain and regret, her tears threatening to fall from her silver eyes.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I should’ve not done that to you.”

Shoto’s face softened and lovingly hugged his mother back. The room felt silent for a minute until Rei spoke.

“I know this is kind of forcing you out,” She pulled away, wiping her tears away sniffling here and there, “But this would be the last from your father.”

His face darkens when the mention of this dad but listens to his mom. Shoto glanced at his mother, telling her to continue what she was saying.

“I want you to take your father’s offer.”

Shoto furrowed his eyebrows at his mom’s statement. Did Enji threaten his Rei to ask him this? Well that’s too much of him, Shoto already said no. He doesn’t want to feed his father’s ego any more.

“Please, I don’t want you to suffer more. You deserve better.” Rei cupped her hands on Shoto’s so he could look at her straight in her eyes. Enji did too much to Shoto’s childhood, pulling him away from his siblings— breaking his youth.

“I want to atone my mistakes.”

She remembered those exact words Enji told her when they were inside her hospital room. His eyes staring at the polished floor like it’s the most interesting thing in Rei’s bland room.

“Even if you did, their minds would never change towards you.”

“Forget that this is for your father only. Think that this is also for Touya, Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Me.” She held her son’s hands with hers in such a gentle manner, making Shoto calm for the first time.

“I want you to move on from those painful memories.”

[innocentimouto]

So you think Levi should've been the one to kill Eren?

I mean he was a core part of killing Eren

But I don't care either way. The Rumbling didn't need to happen in my opinion and seems to feed into the colonist propaganda of "give these people a chance and they will wreak havoc (and steal land and kill and cause destruction and ruin societies)". That somehow, these people who weren't doing anything will be so much more animalistic and brutal if given any freedom.

The actions of Eldians in the past is just a justification used by Marley to attack other nations with titan powers. They don't care about the past. They wanted to do the Rumbling themselves. They only refocused on Paradis because they made so many enemies (shocker) and Paradis had minerals that many nations wanted. It was never about being fueled by revenge. They attacked and killed people who weren't Eldian. I mean, Gabi is the prime example.

She's a child soldier and so is molded to what is expected of her to survive and she laughed at the soldiers who hesitated in killing her because she was a child. Nothing about them being cursed children of Ymir. Apparently killing other people and taking advantage of their humanity is something expected in Marley.

Marley doesn't get this high ground of being better, especially to Paradis. Paradisians were the ONLY group to realize the atrocities they had done and tried to atone for it. I cannot get over the Tyber family knowing the truth and reaping the benefits of actions that weren't theirs, and decide to only reveal the truth at the last second when they're forced to. To me, they are the absolute worst.

They're treated with respect which proves people can respect Eldians and they sit back while their people are oppressed instead of doing anything to help and allow Paradis to be flooded with titans for years.

Basically Paradis are the "best" of the Eldians. Which is also in line with themes of war and genocide. The oppressors always accuse you of what they do because they can't imagine why you wouldn't do it also.

My ideal version is that Erwin lives and forms alliances with other nations to attack Marley and these alliances aren't perfect and there's still a lot of hatred against Paradisians, but it buys them time to win other people over and eventually remove titans entirely.

Plenty of their people die. I think I would even make Levi die years later. The Rumbling is never used because characters are actually doing things. Why was it necessary to show Marley had so many enemies if it couldn't be used against them?

There is a lot of racism against them still. However Marley has made so many enemies, and Erwin isn't what people expect of the island devils at all. Erwin captivates the world leaders, while others captivate the people. Also when Erwin dies, it WILL be impactful to Eldians all over the world because this man deserved better. (All the character did)

At some point Eren uses the founding titan's power to speak to everyone and a change begins. We saw how Reiner, Annie, and Bertholdt made connections with people they were sent to destroy. I found it hard to believe that Eldians around the world also haven't made friends who could help them. And aren't in desperate need for justice.

Derailing but Levi killing Eren doesn't matter to me. I only mentioned it because Levi has so many reasons to not be able to live with himself after the war because he took responsibility of Eren and because Levi cares about people and was so upset about finding out titans were humans.

[intofclklore]

erin’s never been to a harrington family christmas party, nor would she like to attend one, but she can assume that they’re unbearable without something to drink to get through it. this is more or less proven as fact for her when a very drunk steve harrington calls her at the end of the night. 

it’s around eleven, on christmas eve. she’d been in bed with a book, unable to sleep but knowing she should be trying. it’s weird being back in this bed, even though it’s only been a few months since she left for school. she’d just gotten used to her new room, her new mattress, and now she’s here again. steve’s voice is a welcomed distraction from that. she can hear the rustle of sheets in the background of steve’s slurred speech and knows she’s not the only one in bed.

“you could have woken my parents with the phone, steve,” she chastises him, but her tone’s not harsh. he didn’t, so it’s fine. 

they don’t have a landline in their room. it’s just in the kitchen, and in erin’s room. ‘so you can talk to all your friends,’ her mother had said when she insisted they put the second phone in her room a few years ago. it had felt like a waste at the time since she didn’t speak to anyone on the phone regularly, and it felt like an even bigger one now that the phone occupied the room and she didn’t. 

“‘m sorry… wanted to talk to you… wanted to say merry christmas…” even drunk, he manages to make erin’s stomach do flips. 

she reminds herself she’s the one who had told him they needed to slow things down, she needed more time. a couple of good weeks weren’t going to fix everything between them. but she can’t deny… sometimes she really can’t remember why she’d ever make such a dumb decision. 

“merry christmas, steve,” she says back to him. she’s whispering, both for the sake of her sleeping parents, and because she feels the need to match steve’s own soft spoken, low voice. it sounds particularly deep over the phone, she can almost feel the rumble of it. it makes her palms sweat. 

she asks about his family’s party. he asks what her own plans are. he wants to know when he’ll see her, if he’ll see her, before she leaves again.

he has a gift for her.

more stomach flips.

“you don’t have to give me anything,” she insists. “i didn’t… i didn’t get you anything.” she tries not to remember the last time she gave him a gift, how things had fallen apart so quickly after that. no correlation, but she still connects the two things in her mind. it’s hard not to. 

“that’s okay,” he says, and she believes him, but she still hates receiving presents if she’s not giving something in return. it leaves her with a sick, guilty feeling that lingers into the new year. 

money’s been tight with the munson family. it always is, but the past year has been especially rough with everything happening in hawkins plus erin going off to school. her scholarship covers most things, but she’s still working a part time job in between classes and soccer, and her parents have been helping. her gift buying money wasn’t as much as she’d have liked. that meant homemade gifts for the girls on her team and her roommate at the dorms, thrifted things for her parents, and the one nice gift going to eddie. she thinks he deserves it the most after everything. 

“i’d feel bad,” she admits to him. then she pauses, curiosity getting the better of her. “what is it though?” 

his laughter makes her heart race. “you’ll see,” he tells her. 

and maybe it’s just because it’ll be an excuse to see him, but she doesn’t argue. she’ll steal something from the kitchen to take him in return. there’s nothing home baked, but the store bought christmas cookies are better than anything her or her family members could possibly make would be. 

instead of telling him this, or saying anything else sweet, she tells him, “i’ll bring you the coal you deserve.” 

it’s her version of flirting, but it’s not even true. steve deserves holiday cheer and gifts more than almost anyone in hawkins. in all of indiana, even. he doesn’t seem to take it to heart, laughing again. 

but then, his tone shifts as he asks, “yeah? have i been naughty this year?”

something warm turns in the pit of her stomach, and she almost coughs into the phone, choking on her own breath. steve’s voice is low, almost… no. 

she doesn’t want to say it’s suggestive. 

but it kind of is. 

erin absolutely does not know how to respond to this, not in the way to escalate something like this. he probably does, and thinking about him knowing how to do this makes her cheeks burn even more. 

“erin?” he prompts, when she’s silent for too long. 

her voice cracks when she speaks. “yeah?” she clears her throat. “yeah, sorry. uh, no. you’ve… you’ve been a really good guy this year.” 

if she’s trying to have a touching holiday moment, steve isn’t picking up on it. “yeah? have i been a good boy?” 

her eyes go wide. “steve!”

he cackles, sounding like he knows exactly what he’s doing to her. 

“you’re drunk, go to bed,” she tells him.

“i’m in bed,” he replies, petulant. 

“you know what i mean. go to sleep.”

he does, but not right away. neither of them hang up yet, erin managing to stumble through the goodnights and goodbyes while her face slowly cools. they make plans, for a day in between christmas and new years. and then for new years eve, too. steve knows someone throwing a party, and erin reluctantly agrees to go. it feels bizarre, thinking about showing up to a party where steve will actually not only be seen speaking to her, but be seen arriving with her. 

if she thought this past year was wild, the next one is already shaping up to be something else.

[elizaellwrites]

Legacy of the Fallen- Chapter 4

Two chapters in one day? Are you hallucinating? Perhaps...

Content Warning: there is parental abuse in the first portion of the chapter. Skip to the second POV, if you aren't in the mindset to read about that.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Last Chapter

Things Hidden

Ben sat quietly on the floor of his bedroom; guitar perched on his raised thigh. He lightly strummed the strings in no particular tune or rhythm, the sounds comforting. His head was leaned back against the royal blue walls, eyes hopelessly attempting to follow the circulating movement of his ceiling fan.

It was only when he held his precious instrument that he felt he had a home, the smooth wood and harsh textures of the strings biting into his fingers. The house that stood over his head protected him from the elements yet did nothing to protect him from anything else.

He waited for the rumble of the garage door under him to start. It happened every day, especially now that his dad had been arrested two years before and was not set to be allowed parole for another three. His mom came home at the same time, in the same mood, every day. And every day, fear sparked through his chest, warning him that anything could happen.

He waited, dreading the day when she would finally lose the rest of her sanity, coming home with a gun or a knife to end his terror. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it, but he wouldn’t allow himself to lose faith, not yet at least. He kept going, if not for the people who actually cared, then a signal to prove that no matter what she did to him, he still held hope.

Over the years, the fear had slowly lessened, becoming more of a voice of caution in the back of his mind than the full-body response it had been before. He supposed that was bad, but it was his normal. Of course, child services had gotten involved after odd behavior had been reported by a neighbor. In the end, they had not been able to prove anything, shrugging it off at his mom’s explanation of a soccer ball for a bruise on his cheek and alleged regular slacking in school for the loud voices. It was a miracle they bought it, the worst miracle of his life.

He sighed, closing his eyes tight as his hand fell still, silence settling in the room. It was deafening, no better than when she was home, as the ghosts of her words continued to haunt him in the still air. No matter how many times Rachel reminded him otherwise, he couldn’t help but somewhat believe that he deserved it. He was a burden to his mom, making her work two full-time jobs just to put enough food on the table so that he wouldn’t starve. For being a failure as a son, hiding in his room, and only being average in school. Factually, he knew it was wrong, but it did not matter. He held no benefit to the others around him, and dragged Rachel down, making her worry about things that she otherwise wouldn’t.

He strummed a chord blindly, the sound ringing out pleasantly in the otherwise silent house. No. He wouldn’t turn his back on the glimpses of light he had seen and held so dear for all these years now.

His eyes shot open, his heart jolting painfully in his chest as the rumble under him registered. He stopped his fingers on the strings, quickly shoving his one freedom under his bed. The last time she had heard him playing, she had threatened to burn it.

The mechanical sounds of their old, junky sedan pulling in carried through the floor as he pushed himself off it; the slam of the door followed all too soon.

“Benedict,” her voice snapped from below, cutting into him. “Come down here and help me.”

He left his room hesitantly, his hands clenched together in his sweatshirt pocket. He trekked his way through the confining house, his prison, another slam of the door made him jump. His feet felt heavy as they hit each step, pulling his hands free before she could see him.

“What are you waiting for?” She huffed once he had reached the bottom, her gold eyes flashing. Her features, so similar to his own, twisted with frustration and exhaustion. Her brown hair was about ready to fall out of the tight bun she always wore to work, her calloused fingers tightly gripping grocery bags, a few more placed down by her feet. “Come on now.”

He picked up the remaining bags as she moved around him, shocking any emotion he harbored away as he turned to follow. They walked in what many would see as uncomfortable silence, though he much preferred it to the alternative.

They reached the kitchen, he followed his mom in placing the bags on the counter. “You do remember where everything goes, right?” Her harsh tone broke through the fragile silence.

“Yes,” he replied, careful about his tone, as it could very easily be the thing to set her off once again. Today seemed to be one of her better days, but he wasn’t about to risk it. Even if she thought he was thinking badly of her, she didn’t hesitate to slap sense into him. He was lucky that he had only been thrown out of the house twice, though the walk to Rachel’s had been cold, and he had been fearful of being mugged the whole time with all the crime that took place in the area.

He started to distribute the items on the shelves of their small cupboard, while she focused her energy on the refrigerated items. They worked quietly, the bags were quickly emptied and stored for later use. He made his way back to his room, while she began to prepare dinner in the kitchen. He leaned against his door once it was closed, shielding himself from the tension that filled the air around her.

He moved to pull one of his notebooks from his backpack, opening his notes to review for a quiz he had the next day. Yet, as hard as he tried, he couldn’t concentrate as he looked at the words he had scrawled out, they might as well have been in a language he didn’t understand with how much he was getting done. I hate her. He told himself quietly. But that was a lie. He didn’t, he couldn’t. As terrible as she was, as much hurt she had caused him, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her, or anyone for that matter.

He sat like that, notebook open, staring blankly ahead until his mom’s voice called that dinner was ready. This had been their daily routine since his father was arrested, even to the point of him only pretending to do homework while being unable to focus. He stood, moving back across the house to the kitchen.

“I did your job for you,” she shot him a look. “You’re welcome,” she gestured to the now empty dishwasher that he knew only finished while she had been cooking.

He moved to pick up a plate, scooping the small amount of pasta left in the pot onto it. He did not respond to her statement, nor did he want to. There was no need for a fight right now. He grabbed a clean cup and filled it with water from the faucet, taking a quick sip to soothe his chapped lips.

“Thank me,” her voice hardened.

He placed his plate and glass of water onto the counter, pushing them away from the edge. He knew what was coming.

He flinched at the sound of a chair being pushed back on the tile, her footsteps heavy with anger as she quickly approached him. He winced when her hand clamped down on his arm, wrenching him around to face her.

“Do not disrespect me,” her eyes burned, her grip tightening on his already bruised arm.

He gritted his teeth, gathering his courage. “You don’t own me,” his voice trembled as he said it, but it was enough.

She threw him away from her, causing him to stumble into the corner of the wall, the back of his head spiking in pain. “Apologize,” she demanded, following his motion. “Now.”

“Why?”

A crack rang out and he found his head turned to the side, his cheek burnt by her rage. He raised a hand unconsciously to touch the tender skin, only for it to be gripped by hers. She swung him around, his feet losing their balance, sending him tumbling onto the hard tile.

“You petulant child,” she growled, standing over him. “After everything I’ve done for you. Apologize.”

He stared back in defiance of her wishes, doing his best to push down the terror he was feeling.

Her face twisted further with rage, her weight shifting. He braced himself but it wasn’t enough for when she brought her foot down.

His vision went white.

____________________________

Anna walked slowly into the living room from the small hallway where her room was located, her hands wringing around each other as she watched her father put on his shoes.

“Are you okay?” He looked up from tying his left shoe, finishing, and switching to his right.

She nodded, biting her lip lightly as she made her way to join him at the door, sliding her feet into her boots before pulling up the zippers.

“You don’t have to go, Marie,” he reminded her again, using his nickname for her. His violet eyes watched her with open concern, his hand twisting his keys between his fingers uneasily at his side.

“It’s okay,” she offered a small smile. “I just…” she released a sigh. “I just don’t know what to expect, or what to do, or what I should say, or-”

“You don’t have to do anything,” her father cut her off gently. “He’s your uncle, not a judge. Now, I know it’s going to be different, but it will be okay. He isn’t expecting you to be anything except his niece, and as much as I know he wants to meet you, you don’t have to meet him tonight.”

“I want to meet him,” she mumbled out. “It’s just…”

“Something you’re not used to, and that’s okay.” He finished for her, placing his hand lightly on the top of her head, the weight strangely comforting. “Tell you what,” he continued softly. “We’ll both go, and if you’re uncomfortable, we can leave at any time. Ji-Joseph will understand, and if he doesn’t, I’ll talk to him about it later.”

Anna took a deep breath, her father removing his hand. “Okay,” she agreed.

“Now, I don’t want to add too much pressure, but Joseph is hosting a student your age. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but you might have met him if he goes to your school, and if you want to just talk with him instead, it will be okay.”

Anna nodded, brushing the idea to the side. Today was about meeting her new family, and though she knew her father was trying to help, giving her ways to escape her anxieties on the matter didn’t help much.

“Let’s go,” she smiled.

They moved to her father’s large pick-up truck, an odd vehicle for someone like her father to drive, considering the connotations of some who drove them, but it had come in handy while constantly moving. She hopped into the cab as he rounded to the driver’s side, her thoughts flying at a hundred kilometres per hour.

“It will be okay,” the end of his sentence was cut off by the roar of the engine coming to life. “I’m nervous too, it’s been almost thirteen years since I saw him.” They slowly pulled out of the driveway, turning onto the narrow street.

“What happened?”

Her father was quiet for a few moments before a heavy sigh filled the space. “I…” The silence was only avoided by the sound of the indicator. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s just,” Anna started carefully. “I never knew I had an uncle, or cousins, or anything.” The event with the dagger earlier that week came back to mind, bringing the questions she had spent days trying to push down back to the forefront of her thoughts.

“I know,” his voice was strained as he spoke those two simple words that implied so much more. “I guess… life just has a way of tearing people apart sometimes.”

The answer was not enough, it was not nearly enough, but she could feel her father’s painful memories arising once again. His hands clenched the steering wheel as he changed lanes. His face was pale, muscles held tight while his violet eyes remained locked on the road. Guilt rose in her stomach at her poor decision to bring up this topic now of all times.

“Okay,” she turned to look out her window, watching the houses in this new neighbourhood go by. It was a nicer area than where her new house was, though not the nicest either in a place such as Rochester.

Eventually, her father eased the truck into the driveway of a pale blue house, potted flowers lining the walkway and practically framing the front step. It was possibly the most easing thing, that their house looked like it was likely for a sweet grandma to be living there. She could see a red-haired, middle-aged woman through the front window, speaking to someone out of sight. Her breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest.

They unbuckled without a word, her body heavy and mind buzzing while exiting the truck. She froze after the dual car door slams rang through the air, her nervous energy spiking through her muscles. The woman was gone from the window when she looked, alerted by the sound.

She clenched her fingers together behind her back as they approached the door, it opening before they could reach the front step. She took in the sight of the man, surprised at exactly how similar he and her father looked. They shared the same sharp cheekbones and straight noses and a similar shape to their eyes, though the colour was drastically different. Joseph had bright turquoise irises, while the curls of his hair were more rusty brown than dark chestnut. A grin was spread across his face as he stepped down to pull her father into a hug.

“Ei nalok iru,” The foreign tongue her uncle spoke into her father’s shoulder rang a bell in Anna’s memory. She was sure she had heard her father speak similarly, though what language it was, she didn’t know. “Ei farayinok iru ziar naen.”

“Ei orsa,” Her father pulled back with a smile brighter than any others she had seen on him. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hello,” a warm voice made her turn to see the woman from the window, her light green eyes shining. “I’m Charlotte,” she smiled easily.

Anna smiled back, the knot in her stomach starting to release. “I’m Anna,” she could hear how her voice had risen half an octave from its normal state, making it somewhat pitchy. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” her smile widened. “Stephen,” Charlotte turned to Anna’s father who released Joseph to pull the woman into a hug as well.

“Should we go inside?” Joseph suggested, gesturing to the front door that had been left hanging wide open.

“Yes,” her father clapped his hands together expectantly.

“I have a chicken hot dish in the oven, I hope that’s okay,” Joseph looked for their reaction, receiving confusion.

“A hot dish?”

“Casserole,” Charlotte explained.

“Why do you call it a hot dish?” Her father blinked.

They both just shrugged, leading them inside.

Their living room was not much larger than their own, though the care that had been put into it made all the difference. The walls were mint green with rich, purple curtains framing the windows. The white living room set was shockingly free of any blemishes, though what was more shocking was exactly who was sitting on the far end of the couch.

Golden eyes stared back at her, or rather past her, directly at her father. Why Jacob was sitting in her uncle’s living room, she couldn’t begin to imagine. The fact that his jaw gaped open in awe, however, was both hilarious and baffling.

“Jacob?” Her feet stopped short, and she tried her best not to stare at her classmate, but the circumstances were challenging. “What are you doing here?”

His gaze shifted to her, a strange blush reaching his face before it was quickly gone. “Hi,” he offered awkwardly, a strained smile stretching his lips.

“We’re hosting Jacob while he’s here for school,” Charlotte explained while walking over to the small kitchen in the front corner of the house.

Said the boy was back to staring at her father, who was visibly uncomfortable at the attention. Anna couldn’t help but notice that it was at about the same intensity that he had stared at her on and off over the last few days. It was weird, but she already knew that. She would have expected him to be more shocked at her appearance, rather than what appeared to be her father.

“Hello,” her father addressed him.

“Hello, sir,” Jacob swallowed, the look of awe not dropping from his face. “It’s an honour to meet you, sir.”

Her father looked at him, narrowing his eyes slightly. After a few moments, he spoke. “I know your father, don’t I?”

“Yes, sir,” for some reason, Jacob’s face paled.

“Please stop calling me sir,” her father gave a barely audible sigh. “My name is Stephen, and you are?”

“Jacob, s- Stephen.”

“And you know my daughter, how?”

“Father!” She whipped to look at him, knowing what he was about to do.

“School,” Jacob answered anyway.

Her father watched her classmate carefully, his violet eyes thoughtful, yet he didn't say a word.

“Father, it’s been three days. Please do not do this.”

“Okay,” her father drawled with a teasing grin pulling at his lips and eyes lightening. “But if I catch him flirting with you…” He left the statement unfinished, raising his eyebrows at Jacob as he spoke, causing the boy to laugh nervously.

“I’ve only acted in the most respectful manner.” He assured the man.

If she hadn’t been trying to end the interaction, that statement would have made her question what his definition of ‘respectful’ was. So far, he had stared strangely at her and her father, stolen her pens repeatedly throughout geography class, and messed with Rachel to the point of the redhead slamming her head on the lunch table in frustration. Other than that, one could argue that he acted respectably.

“Dinner will be ready in a couple of minutes,” Charlotte’s voice came from the kitchen.

“Annamarie,” Joseph’s soft voice made her turn, his aqua eyes gentle, yet so sad as he looked at her. “You’ve grown up so much since I last saw you,” he smiled. “I just want to apologise to you directly for giving up on you and your father. I shouldn’t have done that; it wasn’t fair to leave you all alone.”

She swallowed, unsure how she was supposed to respond to that. She nodded, suddenly aware that her hands were once again gripping each other tightly. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Please also accept my condolences for your daughter.”

Joseph winced, and she suddenly regretted bringing it up. “Thank you,” his smile was tight. “I’d like to think you two would have gotten along,” his gaze shifted to Jacob who was still stuck in a stuttering conversation with her father. “I’m glad to hear that you’ve connected with others at school.”

“Did he know?” She had to ask, even though his look of shock when she had come through the door was enough.

“No, we didn’t know you two knew each other.” Joseph shook his head. “He keeps to himself a lot.”

Her eyebrows furrowed at that, the loud, somewhat obnoxious boy she knew saying otherwise.

Charlotte leaned out of the kitchen suddenly, smiling kindly. “Find your seats, everyone, I’ll bring it over to the table.”

Joseph gestured to a pathway around the living room into a small dining room at the back of the house, three walls sporting large windows that gave a generous view of their wooded backyard.

Charlotte reappeared through an arch that must have led directly into the kitchen, a glass serving tray filled with what she was sure was the casserole.

They settled down to eat, mainly letting her father and Joseph talk through the meal. She could feel Jacob’s eyes glancing toward her every so often, not unusual now, yet something about it felt different. The atmosphere of the room was heavy with the joy of the adults, there was her own feeling of awkwardness and anxiety, then there was an unmistakable conflict between amazement and sorrow. She watched him for a minute as he stared down at his plate, his brows furrowed and jaw tight.

He must have felt her stare, his gaze rising to meet hers. The boy who looked back at her was not the one she had come to know over the last few days, the playful exterior and eyes full of laughter now tight and haunted. By what, she had no idea, but she could swear that his already vivid gold eyes sparkled with light. Do you know? His voice inserted itself into her thoughts, as it had when they had met for the first time.

She could feel her hands begin to shake from where she held them on her lap, hidden by the table. She glanced at her father, who was deep in conversation with Joseph about one of the trips he had taken earlier in the year. She looked at Charlotte next, her aunt listening politely to the stories. None of them seemed aware of the stifling darkness that had suddenly taken over the room, cutting into her worries.

He held his gaze for a second before a minute shake of his head. No, you don’t. He broke the connection, turning his attention to shoving a forkful of casserole into his mouth.

“Excuse me,” she murmured to Charlotte, struggling to keep her tone neutral. The woman turned her kind eyes to her expectantly. “Would you mind if I use the loo?”

Charlotte blinked at her for a second before smiling, an odd look to the expression. “Of course,” she told her. “The bathroom is the first door on the left in the hall.”

“Thank you,” she stood, her father glancing at her questionably. She shot him a look that said: I’ll be back, his reaction of dropping his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter making her jump as she moved from her chair. Both he and Jacob watched her with cautious eyes as she shuffled out of the room, her nerves firing off at a record rate.

She moved through the living room and into the hall that she had seen when they came in the front door earlier. She whirled into the loo, shutting the door behind her with a pounding heart.

The room was small, with olive green paint and the most basic line-up that she had seen in almost every one of her houses over the years. She leaned against the door, squeezing her eyes closed. His words echoed in her head, the sorrowful feeling now the only feeling besides the unbearable desire to know. Know what? What was happening to her? This whole day was turning into a complete disaster.

She could hear the others’ muffled voices in the dining room, their tones were much more serious than they were before she had left. An overwhelming feeling of something important happening overcame her, instinct overtaking her.

She concentrated on the words they were saying, recentring herself so that it was as if she was in the room with them, eyes staring blankly ahead. She was barely aware of the soft golden light that reflected off the objects in the room. The words came through sporadically, barely decipherable. “Protect… fourth… father… months…” Jacob’s voice was barely louder than a mutter, the darkness that was filling him sending another bolt through her system.

“My shear… expect… six… away… forgive…” It sounded like Joseph; his tone just as low.

Anna focused her attention on the conversation, hoping to get more than she already was. None of this made any sense, especially the fact that she was doing this at all, but she’d come back to that thought later.

“Don’t… thought… dead… saw… sure…” Jacob was speaking again, the rough tinge to his voice clearer than before. “I… inform… wish… not… duty.”

She was starting to get a pinching feeling in the back of her head, but she had to know more. She could feel her nails pinching into the palms of her hands at her sides, her breaths coming in short and steady. I have to know.

“I… done my… keep… safe…” Her father’s voice was grim when he finally spoke. “Understand… she is… won’t… they know.”

“I will… whether… father or… seen… dangerous, dared to” Jacob argued back.

“See… you care…” Her father’s voice held a darker tone than she had ever heard from him before. “I’ll keep… word.”

An image appeared in her mind of her father reaching into his pocket, his violet eyes narrowed. There was a dangerous edge to the way he was holding himself, like a hunter who had just spotted his prey. It made her uneasy that her father even had the capability of looking that way.

“Sen… where did… that?” Joseph’s voice was a gasp.

“Doesn’t… you use… protect her.” The image of her father returned this time with Jacob holding a small golden rod tightly in his hand. The boy’s eyes were wide, his lips parted in shock. “I can’t… failed.”

“Sir… don’t deserve-”

“Promise me.”

The image of Jacob regarded the golden object in his hand like the rod meant more than anything else. He raised his eyes back to her father, a determined gleam in them. “I promise.” Suddenly, he stopped, blinking. His gaze glanced around the room before his eyes glowed gold. She could see him say something to the others, but the words were lost in her connection.

They were suddenly quiet, their quiet voices unable to be heard even through the door. Anna took a deep breath, flattening her hands against the door. The image of his glowing eyes and what little she could understand of their conversation filled her thoughts. She just stood there, weight leaning against the door as her limbs shook.

Was it possible that this was just her imagination running mad again? Just like when the dagger had flown into her hand, this felt more real than anything she had ever experienced, while simultaneously being more insane than the wildest stories.

She had spent the last two days now pretending that the dagger incident hadn’t happened, or at least trying to. Now, the questions were doing nothing but grow. Somehow, her father, uncle, and Jacob were involved in what was happening. Though what that was, she still hadn’t figured it out.

Slowly, she made her way over to the sink, leaning on the counter as she made eye contact with herself in the mirror. She was paler than usual, her eyes conflicted as they searched for answers. She bit her lip, an idea breaching her thoughts. She reached out as she had before, this time keeping herself aware. Though this time, those in the dining room were silent, she could still see what she was looking for.

She lurched away from where she stood as the eyes in the mirror stared back with a gleaming gold, the light dying quickly as she lost concentration. She was frozen, only her chest rising and falling with her gasps of shock.

After a moment, she turned away from the mirror, her hands unconsciously gripping onto the end of her ponytail, winding the curls around her fingers as she stood, debating her next move. She wiped the fear and confusion from her face, reaching for the doorknob before she could change her mind.

She made her way back to the dining room, finding the rest of them the same way she had left them earlier, their food hardly touched.

“You’re back,” her father offered her a warm smile, as though nothing happened. He stopped and looked at her for a moment. “Are you okay?”

She swallowed, aware that her hands had begun to shake again. She glanced around the room, noting the concerned looks on each of them but Jacob, his eyes narrowed in thought. “I…” she tried. “I’m not feeling well,” she murmured the excuse, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She knew her father had been looking forward to seeing Joseph again, and no matter what he had said before they had got there, she knew she was ruining it, but she couldn’t stay here; not after what had just happened.

Her father’s brows furrowed in concern, but he stood. Relief flooded part of her, the fact that he hadn’t taken back his word, meaning much more than he probably thought. “I’m sorry,” she told him, before repeating the same to Joseph and Charlotte.

She could see they were disappointed, but they didn’t say anything as her father stood. Together, her father and she cleared their dishes, despite Charlotte’s wishes for them to leave them. They all made their way to the door to say goodnight, Jacob lingering away from the family, but Anna could still feel his gaze on her and her father, even as they slipped out the door.

They walked in silence to the truck, and it wasn’t until the engine roared to life that she dared to speak. “I’m sorry.” She looked over at him as he shifted the vehicle into reverse.

His violet eyes met her own, strained, but not angry. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @hxad-ovxr-hxart, @the-printed-words, @frostedlemonwriter, @on-noon, @my-cursed-prince, @thesorcererspen, and @avocado-frog. If you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know!

[queenxxxsupreme]

Let It Be (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: It has been so long since I wrote for anyone! I hope you guys like this! This takes place in Ch. 6

Warnings: spoilers for RDR2, angst but fluffy, TB Arthur, but there’s a fluffy ending! no sad ending here

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Arthur can’t let on that something is wrong with him, but even though he’s doing his best to hide it, you can tell something is wrong. 

***

The fire crackled softly just outside the tent. Thunder rumbled in the distance and a soft breeze made the tall grass around the tent brush up against the canvas. 

Arthur was laying on his back. You were tucked comfortably into his side with your head on his shoulder and one hand on his stomach. 

His blue eyes were focused on you, watching the way your eyes would flutter shut every few moments only for you to force them open. You were doing your damnedest to fight the sleep off, and it was amusing Arthur. 

“You know you can sleep a little bit, pumpkin.”

“No.” You grumbled, stifling a yawn by pressing your face into his shoulder. “I don’t want to sleep yet.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause when I wake up, we’re going to have to go back to Beaver Hollow. And I don’t like it there.”

“Neither do I.” Arthur’s hand came up to brush over the back of your head. “But we’ve gotta go back.”

“I know.” You shifted around a little, pushing your body tighter against his. He was so warm and comfortable. “But I’ve enjoyed this. We deserve this, you know. After Shady Belle and the robbery in Saint Denis and you being in Guarma for so long…. I needed this.” 

Arthur stayed silent. His chested tight with your words. 

“I'm really sorry for you, son, it's a hell of a thing."

“Arthur?”

“Hm? What?” He looked down at you. 

“Did you hear me?” You lifted your head up so that you could look at his face. 

He watched you for a few moments. 

“Sorry, pumpkin. I…. I wasn’t….” He trailed off. 

“You’re not here.” You propped yourself up on one elbow. 

Arthur’s fingertips trailed along your spine.

“You’ve been spacing out all day. You wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” 

His eyes trailed over your face, studying every little detail he could. 

The way you gazed at him with concern. Those eyes always seemed to be filled with concern when you looked at him. Concern…. but also adoration. 

The way your brows furrowed together just slightly to create a wrinkle between them. He had always teased you when the two of you were younger about how that wrinkle would be permanent when you got older. 

The way he could see the lines by your mouth from years of smiling. Arthur constantly wondered how even in the lifestyle you shared that you could smile so much. When he questioned you, you always told him that he was enough of a reason to smile. 

He shook his head softly, reaching over to pull your bag underneath his head. This would allow him to keep his head propped up and to see you better. 

“It’s nothin’, pumpkin.”

“But it is, Arthur. It is something. It’s making you act all funny.” You put your hand on his chest. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He brought his hand up to cup your cheek. His thumb traced your bottom lip. There was a scar that cut through the tender flesh. You received the marking nearly a decade ago. Arthur could still recall the exact train robbery that it happened during. 

“I’m sorry. Have you met me?” You cocked a brow at him. “Worrying is my specialty.”

He chuckled lightly. 

“You worry too much.” 

“No such thing. Especially not when I am with you.” You kissed the rough pad of his thumb. “Mr. Arthur Morgan. He’s quite a character, you know. Always getting into trouble and stirring up a ruckus wherever he goes.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” You took his hand and guided it around to the back of your head. Then you dipped your head down and kissed his chest. “Makes quite the name for himself. Everyone thinks he’s a bad, scary man. But you know, I have seen him run away from a mouse.”

His nose scrunched up. 

“That wasn’t a mouse. It was a dog.”

You giggled.

You turned your head away as you yawned. 

“Alright, alright. Enough talking. You need to sleep.”

You groaned again, putting your head down on his chest. He continued to brush his fingers through your hair, blunt fingernails scratching your head. 

“In the mornin’, we can go through town and get some of those cookies at that little bakery you like.”

“Arthur Morgan, you are spoiling me.” You giggled. He fell silent.

When he said nothing in reply to you, you lifted your head, sensing that something was…. off. He had been acting odd all day, but you had thought that maybe something had happened while he went into Saint Denis earlier that morning to meet with Sadie. 

His blue eyes gazed at the roof of the tent. He continued to brush his fingers through your hair. 

“Arthur?”

He didn’t answer you. He was too absorbed by his thoughts. 

You reached your hand up to brush your fingers along his cheek. It was only then that you could feel how warm his skin was. 

“Arthur.” You said his name a bit more firmly this time. 

He blinked slowly and looked down at you. 

“Are you feeling okay?” You furrowed your brows. “You’re warm.”

“M’fine, pumpkin.”

“Did you hear me call your name the first time?” You looked over at him. The lighting in the tent was too poor for you to really get a good look at him. But now that you knew he was warm, you wanted to see if he looked okay. “Will you come out to the fire with me for a moment?”

“Not right now, pumpkin.” He shook his head. “It’s late. We need to be sleepin’.”

“But Arthur, you’re running a fever.”

“No I ain’t.” He shook his head stubbornly. “I ain’t even that hot. I think it’s just ‘cause you’re layin’ here next to me.” 

An itch began to crawl up the back of his throat. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth as he coughed and turned his head away from you. 

You didn’t believe his words, and he knew this. He held your gaze for a few moments before turning his head in search of something. 

“Arthur, please. Just give me a little peace of mind.”

If he complied and went out to the fire with you, peace of mind would be the last thing you would get tonight. 

 Arthur picked up a bottle of gin and took a few swigs of it, hoping to get that nasty cough stirring in his throat to go away. 

You sat up, brushing your hair back. 

“M’fit as a fiddle, Y/N.” Arthur put the bottle down and laid back against the pillows. 

You crossed your arms, looking down at him with furrowed brows. 

“Come on, pumpkin. We gotta get some sleep if we wanna make it to camp by nightfall tomorrow.” 

“Arthur Morgan, you drive me insane. And I think you do it on purpose.” You settled back down beside him. 

“Sometimes I do. Just like seein’ ya all riled up.”

You turned your back to him and sunk into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, making sure you were as close to him as possible. 

“I love you, pumpkin.” 

“Love you too, bear.”

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[luminouspoes]

safe in the morning light

pairing: poe x gen!reader

summary: reader wakes up first in the morning and decides to wake poe up nicely

word count: 2k+

warning: n/a just soft kisses and fluff

You wake up first, which is unusual. Typically, Poe is the first one up: he’s a light sleeper, quick to alertness from years of being a pilot. Typically, by the time the D’Qar sun is fully up in the sky, Poe has already finished most of his morning routine of having caf, checking the messages on the console across from his bed, and reviewing logs from the various squadrons under his command.

Instead, you’re delighted to find he’s still in bed next to you. It’s still early, so you decide to take the time to appreciate the quiet peace in your home. You shift closer to Poe, smoothing the duvet down as it twists around you at your movement. It strikes you how peaceful he looks: the tension in his face is smoothed out for once, and your eyes roam over his handsome face, trying to commit to memory what he looks like now. 

The war is still a phantom on the horizon, haunting everyone on the base. There’s no doubt in anyone’s minds that war will eventually, finally break out, but it’s only a matter of predicting when. It’s Poe’s defiance and kindness that led you to falling in love with him, but his urgent need to protect what his parents fought for, to stop the First Order from hurting anyone else the way it’s already hurt him, weighs him down in a way few seem to notice.

He hides it too well, for someone who can’t lie to save his life. Besides yourself, General Organa seems to be the only one to realize how much he pretends things are easy for him. He’s the one who offers encouragement and help to people, and you adore him for it. You just wish he’d realize that he deserves to have that, too.

You place your hand over his chest. There’s dozens of scars littered across it, each with their own story. By now, you’re familiar with each story, each scar, and you’ve loved them gently with both your fingertips and lips more times than you can count. 

As much as you’d love to let him sleep in, to keep that relaxed expression on his face, you also know it’s only a matter of time before a message beeps on the console that will wake him, or someone will turn up at your door needing something, and you’d rather he wake up to something sweet than a rude interruption. 

You lean forward, pausing for a fraction of a second to appreciate how his eyelashes brush the tips of his cheekbones with his eyes closed. You press a kiss to his forehead (usually, when you did this, it would be to smooth out the worry lines there), then move to press one to the tip of his nose. You continue to map out the planes of his face, from his cheek bones, to the side of his temple, the corner of his mouth.

Although he keeps his eyes close, you feel him stir slightly underneath you. He’s pretending to be asleep, so with a grin, you decide to up the ante so to speak. You throw a leg over his hip so straddle him before closing the distance again, smiling against his skin as you kiss along his jawline. You can feel his hand twitching at his side, wanting to hold you, but he seems determined to make this last as long as he can.

He can try to keep up the ruse for as long as he wants, but there’s no denying the slight flush to his cheeks, and the fast thrum of his heart underneath your palm. You slide your lips down from his jawline, down to the crook of his neck and - 

Get exactly the reaction you were seeking.

Poe yelps, his eyes flying open as he squirms away from your mouth, shoulders tucking up around his chin as a burst of laughter falls from your lips. He glares up at you without any venom, “That’s playing dirty.” 

“Is it?” You ask, a mischievous glint lighting up your eyes. 

Poe’s eyes widen slightly in alarm as you move back in, a firm “no, wait -” falling from his lips and quickly turning into another round of bright, brilliant laughter as you ghost your nose along the side of his neck, featherlight. He writhes beneath you, trying to move away, as his laughter continues to rumble through his chest against your own. 

He was terribly ticklish around his neck, something you’d been delighted to discover early on into your relationship (you’d been tucked away in a supply closet, trying to catch a moment to yourselves to catch up on your day, when you’d leaned in to kiss down his neck, and promptly found out how sensitive he was there). You twist your head to look at him as you continue to nuzzle your nose against him, drawing light circles to keep him laughing. Your heart seizes with something indefinable as his face scrunches up with mirth, eyes crinkling softly with joy. 

He continues to wriggle underneath you and it’s not long before you’re both wrestling around, legs tangling together as he continues to try and evade your attacks. But you can’t help but chase after him, enjoying the way your quarters fill with the sound of his hearty laugh as you roll around the mattress. 

Distracted as you are by how happy he looks, Poe takes your momentary slip up and uses it to his advantage, grabbing your wrists in one hand and effortlessly flipping you under him with one smooth movement. You bounce slightly against the mattress as he comes to hover over you, balancing on one arm. Your breath stalls in your chest from how easily he pinned you underneath him - it’s easy to forget how strong he actually is - and the way his eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you. 

Poe leans down, his nose nuzzling against yours for a second, before he tilts his head for better access to your mouth. You close your eyes, heart racing in anticipation - 

And then he ghosts his fingertips over the rolls on your waist, wiggling his fingers like spider legs, and you nearly fly off the mattress, his name falling from your lips in an affronted squeal, and you’re quickly losing your breath for a very different reason than the moment before, as he continues to tickle your side, eager to draw out as much laughter from you as you had him. He’s practically glowing as he tells you with a self-satisfied smile, “Two can play at this game, sweetheart.”

As you continue to squirm and giggle beneath him, the automatic light sconces in his room slowly activate, leaving the room in a golden glow that’s indicative of the sunrise happening outside. It only makes this moment seem even more like a slice of heaven, your shared delight spanning simultaneously an eternity and only a few minutes. 

Finally, Poe concedes, opting instead to splay his hand on your waist, fingers tucking around the fabric of your shirt (one of his shirts, actually) so you can catch your breath. His and your chests rise and fall rapidly with pants, but neither of you have lost your somewhat manic grins.

“Morning flyboy.” You run your hand down his chest again, ghosting along the scars there. Poe’s eyes slip shut at your gentle touch: it never fails to make his chest tight with emotion, the way you always touch and hold him like he’s something precious. He isn’t sure what he’s done in his life to deserve someone as incredible and loving as you, but he’s glad he has you.

When he’s able to open his eyes again, he pokes your chest lightly, teasingly with his index finger, “Was tickling me really necessary?”

You roll your lips as you mull over his question, shifting beneath him slightly. Judging from the expression on his face, he’s expecting you to make a joke, but your mind is still too groggy from sleep to come up with one, so you opt for the truth instead. “To hear that beautiful laugh? Absolutely.”

He leans back slightly, his gaze softening from your words. Then he grins, a brilliant lopsided one that makes your heart glow, and he’s shifting your body closer to his so your legs tangle together again.  “Could say the same about yours,” he tells you as you slide your hand back up his chest to snake around the back of his neck. Your palm brushes against the cold chain of his necklace as you move your hand into his curls, scraping lightly at his scalp with your fingernails. 

Poe’s gaze grows heated as he searches your face. In a rough voice that has nothing to do with the fact that he just woke up and everything to do with how you’re holding him, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

You respond by burrowing your fingers further into his curls to pull his face down to your own, his mouth crashing against yours. His hand skims down to your hip, drawing you up so your bodies are flush together. The warmth of his bare chest seeps through the thin fabric of your shirt, as his other hand moves from propping him up to ghost down the side of your head, coming to a rest at your neck, his fingers spreading out so that they brush against the edges of your jawline as he pulls your top lip into his mouth, drawing out a low hum from the back of your throat. 

While you tug at his curls with one hand, you let the other wander down the expanse of his back. His muscles move beneath your palm as he pushes against you, but you’re delighted to find that his body is relaxed under your touch, and holds none of the tension you’ve unfortunately come to be so familiar with. Your hand ends its journey at the small of his back, as he deepens the kiss and cradles your jaw reverently. 

“You know,” Poe muses against your lips, rubbing his nose against yours, “I’ve forgotten something very important.”

Still caught up in the bliss of the moment and the feeling of his lips and body moving against yours, it takes a second for you to register what he’s said, let alone reply. “Yeah? What’s that?” 

Poe grins, his eyes sparkling as he presses your foreheads together, “Forgot to tell you I love you.”

“You didn’t have to, you showed me.” You tell him before you crack a yawn. Poe hums in acknowledgement, then rolls onto his back, pulling you with him so you’re on top of his chest. “What are you doing?” you ask him as he shifts on his pillows, quite obviously getting ready to go back to sleep, especially since he closes his eyes. “We have to get up.”

“You’re tired,” Poe answers, like that’s going to change the fact that you both probably have very busy schedules ahead of you. His arms snake around you, holding you closely but not tightly - just firm enough that you feel safe and content. He peers open one eye at you, his lips twitching up into a smile, “and we actually have the morning off.”

“What?” 

“Yeah, no drills today. There’s supposed to be a storm.” Poe grins up at you. “I was up first by, like, three hours.” He swipes his thumb across your cheek. “Cancelled all the drills on account of the weather, crawled back into bed with you. I was planning on letting you sleep in, I know how you feel about storms so -”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his in a sweet, languid kiss, your lips sliding against his. Every little thing he does only endears him more to you: this ridiculous, sweet, considerate, rebellious, dashing man is everything you’re fighting for, and you hope he knows it.

When you pull back to find him staring moonstruck at you, you think he might feel the same. “What was that for?” he asks. 

“Because I love you too,” you tell him and he brightens. You relax in his arms, pressing your cheek to his chest as he tucks his chin over the crown of your head. Sleep tugs at your bones, warm and content, and it’s not long before you’re both dozing off again, the sound of rain echoing lightly through the base as the storm begins outside.

[biggest-stupidhead]

Hello! First of all I have to say that your writing is the best I have read so far and you have a way with words that has me going crazy at 3 am 🤣🤣 I wanted to suggest a short story where Levi and the reader have feelings for each other and are on a mission together. Then it starts to rain and it gets really cold at night so they’re forced to seek shelter and have to spend the night together in an abandoned old house until the rain stops, and they basically get to know each other better and eventually start flirting ya know ya know? 😗Thank you so much and please feel free to add any more ideas you may have 😁

ahhh the classic, stuck with a stranger trope. I dig it :) 

Summary: You spend a rainy night with your bitter captain

Word Count: 1.8K

__

The rain felt like needles as you rode into the wind, your cloak felt heavy and waterlogged as you struggled to see through the shower. You had lost your squad, leaving you alone in the middle of titan country. Your gear felt light, meaning that your blades were nearly gone and gas as well. In other words, you were royally fucked. 

Your horse was huffing, sides rising and falling deeply as she tried to hold the pace you had set. Her head bobbed and you threaded your fingers through her mane and stood on the saddle to ease the weight on her back, and allow her to resume her natural gait. 

Just as you emerged from the thin thicket of trees you had been riding in, you spotted a small cabin, and a black horse tied up out front. You recognized Captain Levi’s stallion and felt relief flood through you. You steered your mare towards the squat building and swung off once she came to a halt. Tying her up next to Levi’s stallion before jogging up the stairs. You lifted your hand and pounded on the door, a flash of lightning illuminated your form when Levi pulled the door open. His hair was dripping wet as was his clothes. 

“Cadet (L/n), surprised you made it this far.” He scoffed before turning and stalking back into the cabin. 

“Captain....the formation is broken.” You stated the obvious, unsure of how to respond to his jab. 

“No shit, this damn rain fucks with the signals. Seen it before.” You almost weren’t sure if he even said the last part since he muttered it so quietly. 

“So what do we do?” You asked, clutching your cloak anxiously. 

“We wait it out idiot.” Levi grunted as he began rummaging around the small cabin’s kitchen drawers. 

“What...about the formation?” 

“The formation doesn’t exist anymore, what matters now is getting back to the wall.” 

You remained silent, stunned by the gravity of the situation you’d found yourself in. 

“Shitty eyebrows needs to stop putting the fucking formation on a pedestal, you brats need to learn how to act at your own discretion.” Levi continued as he pawed through a drawer, he pulled his hand out holding two stones. Flint, to be precise, he had already taken some of the firewood that had been sitting in the cabin and chucked it into the fireplace. You wondered how long it had sat there in the lonely cabin, who had gathered it? A child maybe? When you were younger, you had lived on a farm with your family, raising horses for the military. One of your many jobs had been to get firewood. You wondered what had happened to the people who lived here before, wondered if they could ever return. 

“Oi, take off those boots. Just because nobody’s lived here in three years doesn’t mean you get to track mud inside.” He scolded and you quickly stripped yourself of your mud caked boots. 

“Yes sir.” You grumbled as you numbly wandered into the kitchen, pausing when you found a small corn husk doll, very similar to the ones you once made. You picked it up, cradling its head as you held it up in the dim light. The sound of stones clicking and then the crackle of a small fire brought you back. You turned to see Levi hanging his cloak and jacket by the flames. 

“Take off your cloak and jacket.” He ordered and you placed the doll down to fulfill his command. You shivered in just your shirt, which was soaked, the olive colored fabric nearly see through due to the wetness. Levi averted his eyes as he snatched your jacket and cloak from you. You dropped down to sit on the floor near the fire, staring into the flames as you allowed your mind to wander. Levi sat down as well, crossing his legs and closing his eyes as he tried to even out his breathing. The only sound was the crackling fire and the patter of rain on the old roof. You had nearly forgotten how it sounded, having lived in the castle for years now, the cozy cabin brought you back to your childhood. And before you could think better of it, you asked: 

“Where are you from captain?” 

“None of your concern.” He grunted, eyes still closed and face lacking any signs of emotion. 

“Well, where I’m from, when it rained like this...we’d go outside and-” 

“I didn’t fucking ask. Now shut up and go to sleep or something.” 

“There’s no need to be so bitter Captain.” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and angling your shoulders away from him, the sting of his words. You sighed heavily and fell flat on your back, staring up at the rafters, a drop of water seeped through and landed right on your nose and you let out a huff of disgust. 

“....Look” Levi’s voice was heavy and less annoyed than previously. 

“If talking...makes you feel better about all of this....then I guess I don’t mind listening.” He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, bangs obscuring the top half of his face as he studied you, splayed out on the floor. 

“....Thanks.” 

“As I was saying, when I was younger, I used to be scared of thunder storms. But my grandma, she would make this cake. She called it thunder cake.” You closed your eyes and a dreamy smile curled onto your lips. Levi felt a pang of jealousy, being nearly 28, one would think that he could get over his childhood. But he just couldn’t seem to, he wished he grew up in the sunshine, known his family, gotten to be scared of thunder instead of men in the underground. 

“-it wasn’t really anything special, just a lemon cake. But making it during the storm...she said it was magic, and you know.....I believed her.” Your voice cracked and Levi frowned, he remembered that naivety, how his mother would tell him about fairies or goblins. He had believed those stories for a time as well. But when she had died, he no longer saw beauty in the world. How could he? 

“She was so smart Captain. She knew everything, how to treat a tooth ache, how to make the best bread, break a horse. I wish I could be half as wise as her.” You continued, Levi turned to look at you, your usually bright eyes seemed distant and foggy, mouth screwed into a frown, your bottom lip trembling. 

“When she died, I felt so alone. I couldn’t compare, how could I? She was so strong and, I was just a shitty kid.” You scoffed bitterly, Levi understood your pain deeply, loosing people was something he was all too familiar with. He blindly reached out and let his hand awkwardly fall over your own. You froze, head turning to look at him. 

“How about you? What did your...parent do to help you through the scary parts?” You asked, eyes wide and hopeful. Levi’s jaw locked as he tried to wrack his brain for something to say, you had just been so vulnerable with him. How could he not repay the favor? Especially if the two of you would die in this shitty cabin. 

“She would....give me a bath, or we’d clean the house.” He said with a curt nod, remembering his mother pouring soapy water over him after he had scrapped his knee, or cried so hard that his eyes were nearly swollen shut. Yes, that was the truth, they would take a bath and then she’d tell him those shitty stories. 

“That sounds nice.” You said wistfully as you turned your hand to lace your fingers with his. You sensed his tension and decided to carry on telling your own story. 

“I hated cleaning, my grandma used it as punishment for me. Like when I was 10 I threw eggs at the neighbor boy after he lifted my skirt up.” You chuckled lowly at the memory. 

“Sounds like he deserved it.” Levi said with the smallest of smiles. You beamed up at him and nodded. 

“Yeah, he sure did. My grandma made me clean the coop for two weeks after that, and the stables.” You giggled, squeezing his hand as you laughed. He felt another wave of jealousy, wishing he had memories like yours. 

“And you? Did you ever get in trouble?” You asked, rolling onto your side, pulling your hand free from his, he immediately missed the contact, not that he would admit it though. 

“That’s all I did when I was younger.” Levi scoffed, looking down at you with a gleam of amusement in his gaze. 

“What kind of trouble?” You pressed, resting your chin on your palm as you stared up at him. 

“I bet it was with girls, you seem to be popular with the cadets.” You teased and Levi’s nose wrinkled in disgust. 

“No, more like I was stealing and selling government property illegally.” He scoffed, reaching his hand down to ruffle your damp hair, you let out a bark of laughter as he grabbed the roots of your hair and shook your head playfully. 

“Yeah right, you’re the strictest of all the squad leaders, as if I would believe-” 

“I grew up in the underground, didn’t matter down there, just did what I had to do to put food on the table.” He shrugged, trying to keep the atmosphere light, yet stay honest with you. 

“No way....that’s impressive captain-”

“Levi, call me Levi.” He said, withdrawing his hand and leaning back against the couch that was behind the two of you. 

“Okay then...Levi, I call bullshit.” You said, propping yourself up on your elbow and beaming up at him. Levi glared down at you, not sure if he liked the defiance or loathed it. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, but your eyes never strayed from his and he let out a scoff. 

“It’s true, I was born a bastard and escaped through the military.” You raised your brows at this, you hadn’t expected him to be honest. 

“I...admire you for that, takes a strong person to overcome things like that.” You said a tad sheepishly as you averted your gaze, feeling like you had overstepped some boundaries. 

“We all face our own challenges..” Levi muttered, eyes still locked on you. 

“That is true.” You agreed, with a small smile thrown his way. The rain still pounded against the windows and your gaze strayed to them, watching the water stream off of the roof. 

“This will all be a bad memory in the morning.” Levi said, following your gaze, he recalled how you said you’d been afraid of thunder when you were younger. He wondered if you still harbored that fear. 

“I don’t think it will, I hope I can look back on it fondly.” You said, turning and smiling softly up at him, and Levi’s stomach began doing flips, his cheeks flushing at the sentiment behind your words. 

“Yeah....whatever, just go to sleep brat.” He grunted, reaching down and ruffling your hair once more, you giggled and laid down, soothed to sleep by the feeling of his hand in your hair and the sound of rain on window panes. 

[erinxneil]

When The Hero gets Saved

(or, when Marinette saves Chat Noir during an akuma attack and he forgets how to function in front of her when in his human form.)

Marinette gazed at her bare wall in awe.

Tikki swirled around her head, a collection of photographs and polaroid's held tightly in her grasp. “Have you really moved on, Marinette?” A picture of blonde hair with green eyes nearly fell from the kwamis grasp, but Marinette grabbed the photo and stared at it with a sad smile.

“Of course not, Tikki. But I need to. And this is the first step. Besides, I think that Luka deserves an actual chance.”

A soft grin graced Marinette’s lips at the thought of the blue-haired boy. After he held her in his arms during her breakdown last week, she has begun to see him in a new light. Although it seemed he understood her maybe a little too well, she was not too concerned with it. He was there for her. He listened to her cry about her problems while not knowing the half of it, and yet he was still there for her. He needed no explanation. He was perfectly okay to simply hold her.

Adrien couldn’t do that for her. Granted, she was sure if he had been there he would have been there for her as well, Luka’s presence offered her comfort that Adrien could not. This is especially relevant considering Adrien was part of the reason she was so upset. After this, Marinette and Luka began to spend more time together, and she decided that it was time to move on from the blonde boy.

“If this is what you want, then I am happy for you, Marinette.” The kwami nuzzled into her shoulder and smiled. Marinette grinned in response and began to walk to the door. As she was about to walk outside, a car was hurled just a few feet before her. Glancing into the distance, a giant creature was terrorizing the city. An akuma, surely.

Marinette turned to the side. “Tikki, sp- ah!” Before she could finish her sentence, a force grabbed her side and lifted her into the air, and the kwami hid inside her purse.

“Marinette! It isn’t safe out here. There’s been an akuma attack, you need to hide.” Chat Noir.

Internally, Marinette groaned. Yeah, and we would be able to end this if you left me alone long enough to transform. However, she knows Chat. He won’t let her out of his sight.

Once they reached the top of a particularly tall building, the cat set Marinette down. He turned to her and offered her a cheeky grin. “Don’t fear, Princess, my lady will be here soon enough and this will all be over.” She sent him a half-hearted smile before turning around and rolling her eyes. 

Before she could even begin to think of a plan of how to escape Chat, the ground beneath them rumbled. She spun around to face the giant rock-structured akuma. Mud crusted its ridges and dark eyes glared upon them.

“Why, don’t you look paw-sitively stunning on this gorgeous day? Do you happen to have a skincare routine I could follow?” Chat joked before leaping and narrowly missing being pounded into the dirt by the giant rocky fist. Each step or hit caused the ground to crumble in part.

Chat continued to fight the akuma, however he kept glancing over at Marinette or offering cocky comments, making it impossible for her to escape to transform. All that she could do is hope to help in her human form.

After a few moments of observing the fight, Marinette realized that the creature seemed to avoid the puddles of water that scattered the ground. Out of curiosity, the next time they were near her, she splashed a bit of the water onto the akuma. He angrily hissed, and shrank a small amount. Marinette grinned. Of course.

“Hey, kitty, I’ve got a plan!” Chat glanced over with a patronizing smile. “That’s cute, Princess, but I really think we should just wait for Ladybug to arrive.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Just trust me, alright?”

Chat hesitated for a moment, before nodding and gesturing for her to proceed.

“I need you to lead him downstairs, after me.” He frowned. “Aren’t you going to be in danger if he’s following you?” Marinette smiled. “Thanks for the concern, kitty, but I’ll be fine. Trust me.” He sighed. Chat did not like this plan, but he obliged. A few moments after Marinette ran downstairs, Chat ran down after her, making sure the creature followed him.

Chat continued to fight the akuma in the bottom floor, however he looked around, searching for Marinette. After a few seconds, a flower pot cracked on the creature’s head. It halted and turned toward the source in anger.

“Hey, hard-head! I think you need a bath.” The akuma ran after her, stomping as it did so. Chat panicked and began chasing it, before he realized her plan. As he drew closer, Marinette turned the showerhead and turned it on, coating the rock-figure until it shrunk the size of a container of nail-polish. As it shrunk, the bracelet on its wrist fell on the ground beside Marinette. She quickly placed a cup and heavy object over the akuma, before grabbing hold of the bracelet.

She smiled before glancing up, her eyes widening in panic. “Chat!”

Before he had time to react, she lunged into him, the roof crumbling where he had just been standing. Chat glanced at the area, chuckling softly, preparing to make a joke as he turned to face his heroine, before his breath caught in his throat as he realized their position.

Marinette leaned over him, her hands on either side of his head, and she sat on his lap as he lay flat on the ground. His eyes widened and he gulped, suddenly feeling heat rush to his cheeks. 

Marinette, oblivious to their predicament, smirked at the boy before playfully hitting his bell. “You gotta be more careful next time, Chaton.” She stood, offering her hand.

The ringing of the bell hummed in the atmospheric silence for a few moments before Chat blinked and grabbed her hand. “Oh-uh- right. Thanks, Mari.”

She smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Not a problem. Why don’t you go make sure no civilians are stuck in the remains of the fight, and I will wait here with the bracelet for Ladybug to arrive and de-evilize the akuma?”

Chat gazed at her, barely hearing a word she said. 

“Chat?” Her sweet voice broke him out of his trance.

“Oh- right! Check on the citizens. See you later, Princess!” He quickly leapt away before he could embarrass himself more, although all he could think about is how he never realized how beautiful her dark hair is and how bright her eyes were.

-*-*-*-

School the next day was unpredictable.

Marinette walked through the classroom door with Alya, chatting about their plans to help Mari move on from Adrien. As they sat down, focused on their own conversation, the blonde-haired boy entered the room. He waved at Nino with a grin, before he glanced up and his smile faltered when he noticed Marinette. Oblivious to his own actions and the bag on the ground in front of him, he tripped and flopped face-first onto the floor.

The class went silent at this, before a few of them laughed and stared at him, confused by the sudden clumsiness of the usually put-together boy.

“Adrien! Are you okay?”

Glancing up from his position on the dirty floor, Adrien nearly groaned out loud. Before him stood Marinette, offering him a hand in the same way she had the day before.

He offered a tight grin before grabbing her hand. “Thanks, Pr- er, Marinette.” She smiled, confusion passing her features for a moment before she brushed it off and sat back down.

Adrien sat down and immediately put his face in his hands and letting out an irritated sigh.

Nino laughed beside him. “Dude, are you alright?”

Adrien nodded, muttering something about how he didn’t get enough sleep last night, but all he could think about was the pink lip-gloss on Marinette’s lips and how she smelled of flowers and vanilla.

-*-*-*-

The next day, Adrien was prepared.

He had spent the entire night preparing himself, and talking sense into himself.

Marinette is your good friend. She did a good thing by saving Chat Noir. She is just a girl who you have known for years.

It seemed more he was trying to convince himself rather than anyone else.

Ignoring Plagg’s mocking, Adrien arrived to school before anyone else had gotten to class, making sure he would avoid the embarrassment of falling yet again.

However, in all of Adrien’s pre-emptive planning, he did not plan for what he would do when Marinette arrived to school with her hair down.

As she entered the class, she offered a smile to the teacher before beginning to walk past him to her seat.

He almost hoped she would walk straight past him and ignore his presence. Of course, however, she is Marinette, so she did not.

“Hey, Adrien! Good morning!”

The boy blinked up at her, just staring at her for a few moments. Marinette glanced behind her in confusion, before coughing awkwardly.

Adrien shook his head. “Oh! uh, good! Yeah!”

Marinette smiled softly, eyebrows still furrowed in confusion, before she proceeded to her seat. Adrien sighed and dropped his head onto his desk, ignoring Plagg’s snickers inside of his school bag.

As he sat there, thinking about how long her lashes are, and how sweet her voice sounds, he knew he was screwed.

Adrien would never be able to look at Marinette Dupain-Cheng the same ever again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope that you all enjoy and that this lives up to your expectations!

I’m considering making this a series or making more posts related to Ladybug, so please give your input!

This was entirely inspired by @princessamericachavez and her post about Marinette saving Chat Noir, as I had seen it on TikTok and everyone in the comments was looking for a fanfic inspired by the concept, so I made one! I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think :)

-Erin

[sonofthesaiyans]

Misused and Abused

We all have our comfort characters, we all have at least one who make us especially happy to watch or remember right? 

You would think that Sasha was my comfort character with how much I talk about her......

But that sadly is not the case and you know why. 

Because of that chapter from four years ago, because of that episode from just over a year ago, BECAUSE OF GABI. BECAUSE OF ISAYAMA. 

Loving Sasha as much as I do fucking hurts. And enjoying her without remembering the senseless manner in which she was taken out is a painful effort. 

She was such a pure presence in the series that simply does not exist anymore among those who remain. And Isayama twisted the knife as deeply as he possibly could to a character. I NEVER wanted to see her shot, a massively inappropriate fate of all things for her character in particular, I never wanted to see her bleed out, FROM THE MOUTH, I never wanted a funeral scene, I never wanted to see all her connections and relationships snuffed out like that, I never want to see her season four look and SC outfit because of the reminder they serve of what happened to her, I never wanted her hold fixation on food of all things being the last thing she spoke of.....”Meat”, really asshole? .....And I NEVER wanted to see her fucking killer literally let go by her family and friends like her life meant fuck all. 

NOBODY OWES GABI BRAUN ANYTHING! We don’t, her stupid fans don’t, in-universe not a single character does, not even Falco. She’s owed nothing because Gabi Braun is a fucking worthless late runner who essentially hijacked the story from the original cast. Even from her cousin, Reiner. And we know how stupidly his arc also ended. I don’t want to watch Gabi the cunt. I want to watch Sasha, who has a far more likable character, plot, voice, and presence than that little shit. Gabi is not a character, she is a diversion. Her fans are just too stubborn to get with the program. 

It doesn’t take me much to get hung up on this sore point again and again. All it takes is ONE image, ONE clip, any mention of it, to get me back in a foul state of mind. The exact opposite of what one should expect from a comfort character. Through no fault of Sasha’s own. 

It may be a freaking anime, but it is an absolutely hideous one at that. I hate seeing The Rumbling intro because of what it included, I hate any and all things related to season four, I hate all the countless videos and poorly made fan tributes that try to rationalize this turn of events with Sasha and Gabi, and above all I hate the people trying to make excuses for it. None more so than Isayama himself. Who in the end did not justify any of it. 

Sasha was too good a character to be misused in such a way. And nothing from the flashback episode or even her surprise appearance in the final chapter does anything to make this hurt less. If anything, they only widen the wound. 

Sasha is a joy to watch and listen to but Assassin’s Bullet tainted all of it. She deserved better and so do we. There is no justifying Isayama’s choice. And we have all the justification we need to push for it being made non-canon with the rest of the season. It’s not like the ending was worth it all in the end. Only Gabi and Falco fans are the people who would get any level of satisfaction out of the ending. 

And they do not deserve that courtesy, after getting their way the entire time nonstop. 

Sasha’s potential as a character was enormous. Enormously wasted. Like so many other characters. And this whole spectacle has made it impossible for me to ever look on Attack on Titan as anything other than a MISTAKE. 

There is no Attack on Titan without Sasha Braus. This story ended with the Ocean. Give us our girl back. 

Wish I had never heard of this fucking show, I swear to God. 

[nastybuckybarnes]

Monsters  -  Ten

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Language, Violence, Injuries, Murder

Word Count: 2.8K

A/n: Here we go. The last part! Enjoy this. What a fucking ride. I will 100% answer any questions and write little blurbs if you guys want!!

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

SORRY IF SOME TAGS ARE FORGOTTEN!!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

“(Y/n)? Honey? You in here?” Bucky hesitantly pushes open the front door, senses on high alert in case you make a hostile move.

“James?”

He walks slowly into the living room, smiling softly when he sees you.

“Hey,” he whispers. You eye him warily and he sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he begins gently, sitting down next to you, “I know what I did was wrong, and I know it looks like I chose her over you, but I’m here for you now. And I’m gonna be here for you as long as you’ll have me.”

You stare at him for a moment longer before grinning.

“You need me,” you state. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. “That’s why you came back,” you elaborate, “because you need me. Because you know that Natasha won’t be able to handle you the way I can.”

He swallows hard, thinking back to the way Nat was appalled by the video.

“You’re right.”

You giggle, shaking your head at him. “I know. I know I’m right. I’m the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to you! You’d be lost without me and you’re now realizing it, aren’t you?” His guard is up in an instant, your outburst making him uneasy.

You get up off the couch to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.

“You hurt my feelings, James.” He nods, reaching for your hands slowly. You allow him to take them and watch as he presses gentle kisses to your knuckles.

“I know. And I’m sorry. And you’re right again. I do need you. More than I’ve ever needed anybody and that scares me.” You ponder this for a moment, thinking about all the pictures he received.

“How long were you with her?” He sighs heavily and closes his eyes tightly.

“A month. Maybe longer. At first, she was just something for the soldier when you weren’t there but... I’m not sure why I kept going back. I care about you, I really do.” You hum, pushing his hands away and straddling his waist.

You lean down, lips brushing over his just gently before you smile again.

“I fucked Steve last night. Several times.” A growl rumbles deep in his chest and you pull away for a moment, grinning wickedly as you see his eyes glaze over slightly. His hands grip your hips tightly and he takes a deep breath.

“Your best friend fucked me. For hours. Because you were too busy picking that stupid fucking bitch over me. That’s a lesson for you. I can get whoever I want, whenever I want. You need me, not the other way around. Remember that.” You push yourself off of his lap and walk to the staircase.

“In time you can have me again. But not now. If the soldier needs me, he can have me, but not you, James. Not yet.” He sits panting on the couch, eyes trained on your backside as you leave him confused and aroused.

You close the door to your bedroom and plop yourself down on your bed, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of your mind, the one that’s begging you to leave him. He hurt you, but he’s back. He must care about you or else he wouldn’t have come back, right?

As you’re pondering this, the window slides open with a soft thud. You turn to the sound, anger coursing through your veins as you see the redhead climbing into your room.

“What are you doing here?” You demand, uncurling your legs and climbing off the bed. She closes the window silently and holds her hands up in surrender.

“I just want to talk. Please.” You eye her warily but stay seated at the edge of the bed.

“He came home to me. He chose me. So if you’re gonna try and convince me that he wants you, think again,” you snark, hoping to hurt her feelings before physically hurting her again.

She shakes her head, sitting down slowly on the floor a few feet in front of you, giving you the upper hand if you wanted to get physical.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” You furrow your brows in absolute confusion at her statement. You were expecting a lot of things; yelling, screaming, insults, violence. But this is the absolute opposite of what you had prepared yourself for.

“You don’t even know me,” you scoff, shaking your head at her.

She raises her eyebrows at that. “I know about your parents. Your dad, the paranoid schizophrenic who abused you because he thought he was doing what God wanted. And your mom, the Narcissist who neglected you.”

Your hands start trembling as she brings up people who you’ve fought to forget. The people who made you the way you are.

“You don’t know anything about them. Or me. You’re just-” “Just what? Telling you the truth? Reminding you of the fact that you were raised by them, yet you turned out to be a beautiful, smart, independent young woman?” You look at her, uncertain of where she’s going with this but still angry at the fact that she knows about your past.

“You may have been raised by them, you may have had a difficult childhood, and you may be dealing with something that very few other people can understand, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. You’re not a bad person. You’re hurting, and you’re scared, and I know deep down that you know this isn’t a healthy relationship. But it can stop. We can stop this.”

You look down at your hands, her words bouncing around in your brain. The rational part of you, the part that you spent years trying to bring to the surface, tells you to hear her out, to listen to what she has to say. The other part, the part that has been clawing at its cage for years, tells you to punch her in the throat for even speaking to you.

“I love him,” you say. The words sound forced, even to you. She shakes her head and crawls forward, taking your hands in hers and looking up at you with honest eyes.

“You’re lonely, and he fills that void.” You shake your head, sniffling then glaring at her and wrenching your hands out of her grasp.

“You’re just trying to get me to leave him so that you can have him all to yourself!” Natasha falls back a bit, shaking her head at you and trying to get you to understand.

“No, (Y/n). After what you showed me... I know I’m not strong enough to handle him... I could never endure what you have.” You glare at her, calming down slightly at her admission and at the fact that she realizes that you’re stronger than she is. Mentally, at least.

“So what do you want, then?” You ask.

“I want you to leave him. I want you to pack your things and leave. You deserve so much better than him. I’ll help you go off the grid, start a new life. You’ve done it once, you can do it again.”

You shake your head at her, taking a deep breath. “I can’t. It’s too hard. I don’t want to try anymore. At least now I don’t have to hide anything. I can just... exist.” She crawls forward and rests a hand on your knee.

“You deserve to do more than just exist. You deserve to live, to have a life. And not be afraid of the people around you.” You let out a shuddering breath and nod.

“Fine. What is it exactly that you’re offering? You say you want to help me. Why? Why do you want to help me so badly? And how do I know you’re not just doing this so you can have him?”

She scoffs, the very idea of having him making her feel uneasy. “After seeing the way he treated you, I don’t want him.”

“How do I know you’re not lying.”

“You don’t. But I wouldn’t be here, begging you to leave him and offering to help you escape if I was lying.” She takes your silence as an acceptance of her words and nods.

“I’ve got a safe house set up. No one knows about it. I can take you there tomorrow morning and-” She stops speaking abruptly, rising to her feet and hurrying to the window. She looks outside then curses.

Three black SUVs pull up in front of the house, Fury stepping out of the one in front while two tactile teams get out of the other ones.

“They know I’m here. They must have followed me.”

She turns back to you, her face unreadable.

“We need to leave, now. If they know I’m here then they know I’m talking to you, trying to convince you to leave. I don’t know what Fury has planned but I know it won’t end well for you. Especially not after you stabbing James.”

You rise to your feet quickly, turning to the door as you hear footsteps clomp up the stairs.

“Out the window, c’mon.” You follow her to the window and right as she’s opening it, the bedroom door bursts open.

“Agent Romanoff.” Natasha freezes, turning around and staring at Fury.

“Fury,” she says, voice lacking emotion.

“I think you know what needs to happen here,” he says. Steve and Bucky come up on either side of him, Steve with his arms crossed over his chest and Bucky with a blank look on his face.

“I’m not going to let you get away with this. We’re supposed to be better than HYDRA. Kidnapping an innocent woman and conditioning her to become a fucking sex slave? No! That’s not us!”

“Soldier.” Fury nods to the two of you and Bucky walks over, prying you away from Nat.

“No! Let her go!”

You’re roughly tossed to the ground in the middle of the room and the Soldier grabs Natasha’s flailing figure, stopping her from moving.

“Captain.” Steve grabs you by the arms and hoists you to your feet.

The situation feels like a setup and you glare at the four of them.

“This is your fault!” You snarl, glaring at Natasha. She shakes her head desperately.

“No, (Y/n)! I didn’t know they’d come, I swear!” You shake your head.

“You’re weak people. You’re weak fucking people! You act like you’re all high and mighty but you’re fucking cowards who can’t deal with the problems you’ve created!”

“Oh, we can deal with them. You’re a prime example of that.” You stop squirming to stare at him, eyes widening as he pulls a gun from his pocket.

“You’re a fucking coward! You’re a pathetic excuse of a man and you’re going to rot in hell for everything you’ve done! For the lives you’ve taken! You’re going to die a slow and painful death and you’ll suffer!”

You stomp on the captain’s foot and he jolts back a step, allowing you to slide out of his grasp and onto the floor.

The click of the gun has everyone freezing and you stare up at the man holding the gun to your head.

“Nick, don’t! You’ve got no reason to kill her! Let her go! We can start her up with a new life! A new home. No one will know! Just please, she’s done nothing wrong,” Nat pleads, wriggling in the Soldier’s hold. His eyes are hollow, nothing like the steely grey you’ve come to know.

“She stabbed one of my best men and kidnapped my best woman. Why shouldn’t I?”

Your heart pounds against your ribs, each beat shaking your skull. Your fingertips tremble and your palms are clammy as you stare at the one eye of the man who means to kill you.

“Because then we’re the monsters she thinks we are. She’s scared. She’s terrified of us. But we can show her we aren’t the bad guys. Please.”

Your chest heaves and you can feel tears prickling your eyes but you don’t let them fall. If this is your last moment, you won’t let it be one of weakness.

“We have a chance to prove that we’re the good guys. Don’t pass it up,” Natasha whispers.

Fury eyes you for a moment longer, then glances over to the redhead.

She’s pleading with her eyes. He doesn’t look away from her as he addresses you.

“Miss (Y/l/n), we thank you for all you’ve done for us and your sacrifice, but the position is being terminated. We are no longer in need of your services.”

Nat’s opening her mouth to protest but a gunshot rings out loud and clear, silencing her before she could say a word.

Your body collapses on the carpet, red spilling from the hole in your head.

Natasha’s scream of anguish makes Steve visibly flinch, and the fight returns to her body.

“You fucking monster!” She shrieks, tears blurring her vision as she struggles to escape the hold of the monster holding her.

“All of you! You’re all fucking monsters! She was good! She could’ve restarted her life! You’re all disgusting fucking people! How could you?!”

She sobs loudly, eyes on your lifeless body.

“Agent Romanoff, it seems you’ve lost your edge. I think it’s time we re-teach you some things from your past.”

Fury nods to the doorway and the Soldier carries the fighting redhead out of the bedroom, stepping over your lifeless body as if it means nothing.

Steve clenches his jaw, nodding at Fury despite the little voice in his head telling him ‘this is wrong’. That voice gets silenced quickly when Steve remembers what you did and what your purpose was.

The four people leave the house, the Soldier shoving Nat into the backseat of an SUV while Fury gets into the passenger’s seat, a little red book in his lap.

He’ll make this right. So right that no one will remember a thing.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 15: Silk and Salt

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

A real date.

Mulder hasn’t been on a blatant, show-up-with-roses, ‘I’m into you and would like to get laid maybe’ date in a good five years. Possibly longer; he really doesn’t remember at this point. His life before Scully seems strangely two-dimensional in memory these days.

Part of him thinks that fancy dinners or elegant nights out don’t really seem like their style, but he figures they can decide together after the fact. They have to try it at least once, right? God knows she deserves it.

They’re busy with Mulder’s Gettysburg ghost case for the next few days (he was right, which Scully would not accept), but by Wednesday things have settled down, and he’s able to plan.

“Saturday, May sixteenth, at five,” he announces without preamble on Thursday morning. “I’ll pick you up. And don’t be alarmed, but I’ll be wearing a tuxedo.”

“Okay,” she says, surprised. “I take it this is the date I requested?”

“Yes it is,” he replies. “But that’s all I’m going to reveal. The details are a surprise, and if I recall correctly, somebody wanted to keep personal discussions outside of working hours, so by that metric I’ve already said too much.”

Scully presses her lips together, nodding. “Say no more,” she says. “Now where’s your report?”

He’s not nervous. He’s a grown man; a federal agent, for fuck’s sake. This is nothing compared to some of the tense situations he’s been in throughout his career. Knocking on his partner’s door with a bouquet of red roses under his arm doesn’t even make the list.

Regardless… he’s a little nervous.

Scully opens the door in a flurry of dark blue silk and delicate perfume. “Wow, hi,” she breathes, stepping back and opening the door wider. “Nice tux.”

“Thanks,” he says faintly, drinking in the sight of her.

She’s wearing a silky floor length slip dress with teeny little straps, and he has the fleeting image of snapping them with his teeth, leaving bite marks on her smooth shoulders. She sees him staring and smiles.

“Navy blue; exciting, isn’t it,” she says, gesturing sheepishly to the dress. “I can only handle one fashion adventure at a time.”

His eyes travel her body, appreciating the way the fabric skims her hips. “You look incredible, Scully,” he says, voice oddly hoarse. He clears his throat. “These are for you,” he adds unnecessarily, holding out the bouquet.

“Thank you,” she says, taking the roses. “These are gorgeous, Mulder. Let me put them in water.” She steps into the kitchen and sets the bouquet on the counter. “You know, the last time somebody gave me flowers, I was dying of cancer,” she says conversationally, bending to retrieve a vase from the cupboard under the sink. “Needless to say, this is a preferable occasion.”

“Mark didn’t…?”

“No,” Scully replies, filling the vase under the tap. “I think flowers happen less in real life than they do in movies, at least in my experience. I can count on one hand the number of times a date brought me a bouquet.”

“Nobody’s ever gotten me flowers, so I think I have you beat,” Mulder says.

“I’ll get you some sometime,” Scully says, and it doesn’t seem like she’s joking. She unwraps the stems and places them in the vase. “I’ll give them food and a fresh cut later,” she says, and Mulder nods as though he understands flower care. So water’s not enough…?

“So where are we going?” Scully asks, taking her wrap off the back of the couch and draping it over her shoulders. “I’m assuming - actually, hoping - there’s food involved.”

“I would never neglect to feed a lady,” Mulder assures her. “We have reservations somewhere, but that’s after this.” He withdraws an envelope from his jacket and hands it to her.

Scully peeks into the envelope and pulls out two tickets, scanning the tiny print. “The Kennedy Center?” she says in surprise.

He nods. “The National Symphony Orchestra is playing a selection of Vaughan Williams,” he replies. “Thought you might like it.”

“Mulder, this is amazing,” she says. “I haven’t heard live music in ages. It’s one of those things that’s hard to prioritize.” She slips the tickets back into the envelope and hands it back to him. “So, are you ready to go?” she asks, picking up her little evening bag, gathering the long chain in one hand. She loops the other around his elbow.

He tucks the tickets back into his jacket pocket. “Let’s go paint the town.”

In Mulder’s estimation, one of the best things about going to the symphony is that there’s not much to watch aside from the waving arms of the conductor. Therefore he feels free to close his eyes, absorb the music, daydream a little without risking missing anything important.

The most important thing, after all, is sitting right next to him.

He glances at Scully often, taking in her beautiful face, the rapturous look in her eyes, the elegant curve of her nose, her tender mouth. He loves the way she wore her hair tonight; it’s shiny and wavy, pulled back on one side with a little comb. He fantasizes about slipping the comb out of her hair, sifting his fingers through crimson strands as he draws her in for a kiss. Feeling tendrils brush his face as his lips travel to her earlobe, her neck…

She’s looking at him now, an eyebrow arched. He shrugs, heat in his cheeks as he faces forward again.

He feels something brushing his finger and glances down to see her small, manicured hand creep on top of his, their little fingers intertwining.

The music soars, and he floats away with it.

“That was wonderful,” she says as they walk out of the theatre. “The last piece especially, The Lark Ascending,” she notes, glancing at the program. “It was magical. I’m so glad we did this.”

“Not bad for our first real date?” Mulder asks, hand on the small of her back. He secretly relishes the slip the fabric beneath his palm.

“Not bad at all,” she replies, smiling up at him. God, what did he ever do to deserve that smile? He’s grossly inadequate.

Mulder glances at his watch when they reach his car. “I expected the concert to be longer,” he admits, wincing. “Our reservation isn’t until eight, at that French place on northwest M Street.”

At that exact moment, Mulder hears Scully’s stomach growl.

She looks up at him apologetically. “You can ignore that, can’t you?”

“How hungry are you, Scully?” he asks, leaning against the car. She grabs his elbow and pulls him forward. “Mulder, you’re going to get dusty,” she warns. “And I’ll admit I haven’t eaten much today… I’ll admit I was a little nervous.”

“You were nervous? Why?” he asks, concerned.

“Well, nervous and excited. Because this… this is new. It’s a good thing,” she explains, “But it’s going to take some time to get used to.”

He nods. “Adjusting.”

“Exactly.”

Her stomach lets out another rumble.

“Scully, we should eat now. We can save the restaurant for another time,” he says. “I can’t have you passing out on me; you’re the doctor in this partnership. What’re you in the mood for?”

She licks her lips. “Don’t laugh,” she warns. “Actually, let’s just start walking,” she says, looping an arm with his. “There’s a spot not far from here that I really like. It’ll be a surprise.”

This is incredible.

Mulder wasn’t aware that it was possible to fall this hard for a person, but Scully never ceases to amaze him. Of all the places she could have picked, she chose an ancient, cramped little fish and chips shop down by the Potomac. So here they are, dressed to the nines at a tiny table with two heaping baskets of fish and chips between them. Their ten minute walk had made them both a little warm; his jacket is off, shirt sleeves rolled up, bow-tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck. Scully’s shawl is draped over the back of her chair, her arms enticingly bare as she cuts tender sections off of a slab of crispy battered cod.

“People are staring at us,” she says in a low tone, dipping a bite of fish into the saggy paper cup of tartar sauce. “You think maybe we’re overdressed?”

He grins at her. “Might be. They’re all looking at you,” he insists. “A gorgeous redhead in a silk gown, chowing down on greasy seafood? It’s like spotting Halley’s Comet,”

She locks eyes with him as she chews, a smile quirking her lips. “You think I’m gorgeous?” she teases.

“Of course,” he replies easily, pouring ketchup over his chips. “And brilliant, and compassionate, and adorable, and-”

“Stop,” she implores, holding up a hand. “I can only handle one compliment at a time.”

“Then we gotta increase your stamina, Scully, because I could easily go on.”

“Oh could you?” she says, raising a brow. “I’d like to see that sometime.”

“I’m ready when you are,” he replies.

“Mm,” she hums, busying herself with her fork. “I’ll keep you posted.”

He leans forward, knees bumping hers beneath the postage stamp-sized table. “Can I confess something?”

“Sure,” she replies, popping a chip into her mouth and brushing salt off her fingertips.

“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you again. I would have earlier but your lipstick looked really nice and I didn’t want to smudge it.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Wow,” she says softly. She drops her hand to the table, runs a fingertip over his knuckles. “Well, when we get out of here…” she trails off suggestively.

He hopes she doesn’t notice him start to chew faster.

[fanmoose12]

When I saw this https://twitter.com/tenyawanyad/status/1401561345539993600?s=19 , I thought of Hange in your fic who works as undercover to get closer to Levi but ends up being asked by Levi to bring him to Erwin. Will read all your other works until you update that one!

the second part (kinda?) to this!

God, Hange hated waiting.

Always had, ever since she was but a small child with skinned knees and mismatched pigtails. She didn't wear pigtails anymore, opting for a more practical ponytail, and her knees were only occasionally skinned, but that feeling, that sense of powerlessness when all you can do is watch the minutes trickle by, not knowing what to expect, having no way to prevent the possible catastrophe... It always led to a lump in her throat that was too big to swallow.

And now, after that gaze Erwin gave her, the one that said we'll talk about it later, she felt her insides twist themselves in a tight, painful knot.

It's been almost an hour, a full fucking hour since Erwin had thrown the door to his office shut, inviting the damn thief inside with him.

An hour and they were yet to come out. Was Erwin still alive?

Was the thief still alive?

Hange listened carefully, but she didn't hear any signs of fighting or struggle. She knew Erwin, though. He could kill a man in ten different ways without creating a single sound.

And that thief. Hange witnessed firsthand how skillful he was.

How deft his fingers were, how firm yet soft was his touch, how-

No. Wrong train of thought, Hange.

Distraction, distraction, she had to find a distraction. Thankfully, she didn't have to look for too long. Distraction came in a face of Mike, who leaned against the wall next to her.

"The big man is still in here?" he asked, pointing his chin at the door of Erwin's office.

"Yep," Hange replied, boring holes in that damned door. What was going behind it? And what was going to happen when it opens?

"Had fun?" Mike murmured, looking at her beneath his long blonde hair.

Did she have fun? With that awful thief? With terrible, foul-mouthed thief who had no manners and with the most beautiful eyes Hange had ever seen? And strong, muscular arms she wanted to be buried in? And that toned, chiseled chest that-

No. Wrong thought again.

"Not particularly," Hange gritted, huffing in annoyance. The thief was an enemy, he humiliated her and could have even killed her. She shouldn't find that attractive. Her stomach shouldn't feel so warm, her heart shouldn't speed up just at the thought of that short jerk. And yet...

"Sucks to be interrupted, huh?" Mike hummed.

Hange's eyes widened. What the, how did he-

"Erwin wired you," Mike shamelessly explained.

His shin was kicked right after that.

"Bastards!" Hange shouted, hitting his arm, she was aiming for the head, but that damned tall jerk... "You two-"

"It was Erwin's idea!"

"Awful, old-"

"I'm only a year older than you!"

"Perverted assholes with no sense of shame!"

Hange finally reached his head, giving it a smack.

"No sense of shame?" Mike lifted an eyebrow, grinning despite Hange's vicious assault. "You are the one who tried to sleep with a target."

"I didn't-" Hange scoffed, pointedly ignoring the blush she felt spreading through her cheeks. "I didn't try to sleep with him. It was just a part of elaborate plan."

"Sure," Mike, the ever asshole patted her shoulder. "Whatever makes you sleep at night, Hans."

God, what an ass-

Mike was saved from another onslaught of punches by the deep rumble of Erwin's voice.

"Come inside, Hange," he said, and, oh god, did he always sound so ominous?

Hange gulped and nodded, obediently trailing after Erwin like a naughty high schooler.

The inside of Erwin's office was dark, a lone lamp on his desk being the only source of light. It made Hange feel just a little more nervous, just a little more reluctant to hear what Erwin got to say.

The shadows that danced across the walls and the deep crease between his eyebrows gave Hange yet another hint that this conversation wouldn't be overly pleasant.

That feeling increased, mixing with spiky, hot anger, when Hange's eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and she saw that she and Erwin weren't alone in the room.

The damned thief, Levi as he had called himself, was here with them.

He was leaning against the wall with his hands crossed on his chest, looking extremely broody, a little mysterious and unbelievably, unfairly attractive.

Hange wanted to kick him. She wanted to grab his soft black hair, bring his sexy body closer to her and then kick him as hard as she could manage.

And when all was said and done, when she finished paying him back for the insult and offense, she'd kiss him. Until there was no breath left in either of them.

Then, she'd kick him once more.

"Hange, sit down, please," Erwin spoke up, his eyes boring into Hange like he knew exactly what was going on inside her head.

Now, Hange - Hange obviously wasn't dumb. She was a little careless at times, sometimes she could be hot-headed and reckless, but she wasn't dumb. She knew that causing a scene in front of their enemy wouldn't end well.

But, by gods, she wanted to cause that scene so much, she was dying to do it.

Erwin's piercing gaze was making her reconsider, though.

It was as they say - the annoying, sexy thiefs come and go, but her strict bosses are forever.

After making sure that she sent the thief the meanest and darkest of her looks, Hange managed to somewhat quell her anger. It wasn't enough to make her forget about it completely - especially when thief had no reaction to her whatsoever - but it was enough to let Hange listen to what Erwin was going to say.

She'd deal with the thief later, when he was out of the safety of Erwin's office.

Sitting behind his large, mahogany desk, Erwin cleared his throat.

"I asked you both to come here to discuss something," he began, putting chin on his hands. "Your last mission yielded unexpected, but largely satisfying results, so..."

Your last mission? Did Erwin mean her mission, or did he...?

Hange felt a little dizzy as she gave it all some thought.

Erwin couldn't do such a thing, could he? He would never do this to her, of all people, he wasn't capable of-

Hange wanted to laugh. Wanted to slap herself for being so naive and then laugh at her stupidity.

What was she even thinking about? Erwin, the sly, manipulative bastard, was more than capable. He could, he would and he did do this to her.

What a wicked, brilliant man. Hange was so fortunate that he was on her side.

The thief, however... Was Erwin really ready to give him his trust? What did the thief do to deserve it?

"I have a new mission for you," Erwin's voice broke Hange out of her reverie, made her jump and gawk at him. "For both of you," he clarified, forcing Hange's eyes to widen even more. "Levi here already knows about one Nicholas Lovof..." the thief visibly tensed at the mention of that name, his jaw tightening and the scowl on his face growing even darker. Obviously, there was some possibly juicy story with the thief and that Lovof involved. Hange longed to know it, she Erwin wouldn't budge, but Mike... especially drunk Mike... there a chance it could work out. "He knows something about us, something that made him send an assasin after me."

His expression didn't change, Erwin didn't even look at Levi, but oh... the tone of his voice, the slight, barely noticable irritation told Hange everything she needed.

Not just a thief then, eh?

"I need you to infiltrate his office, find everything he has on us. And do it discreetly, of course."

"And how should we go about doing it?" Hange asked. Usually Erwin had a plan she had to regiliously follow, where every possible complication was accounted for. Wasn't he going to give her one this time? Why?

A ghost of a smirk appeared on Erwin's stoic features. "Today I witnessed just how creative you can get, Hange. I'm sure you can manage on your own this time. Besides," the smirk became just a little more apparent, his complecency more and more infuriating. "You'll have Levi with you. I trust him to watch your back."

What an insolent, cocky fucker.

"You may go now," Erwin hurried to say, before the volcano called Hange erupted. "Your mission starts in two days. Until then... you have time to get to know each better."

God, Hange wanted to kick him too. She wanted to wipe that smug grin from his face, wanted to ruin that immaculate haircut and tear his eyebrows one hair at a time.

But the thief... Hange wanted to get her hands on him first. So she could simply kick him, obviously.

Hange swiftly rose to her feet, following the thief out. Naturally, she completely ignored the hearty laugh that came from Erwin's lips.

The thief walked fast, faster than Hange thought he would, considering his height, but her legs were longer and she still managed to catch up with him, even with her stilettos on.

Once she did, she looked around, making sure that the hallway was empty. It was, which was perfect for what Hange had planned.

Of course, there were still security cameras all around them, but Hange didn't care about them. Mike and Erwin had already heard enough. Well, now, Hange was going to make him see something too.

Perhaps, it would even teach the old geezers a thing or two.

"Erwin said we have to know each other better..." Hange spoke with a sly grin. It grew wider, more wicked when she saw Levi draw a sharp breath. "How about we start right now?"

The thief froze for no more than a moment.

It was all Hange needed to seize his shoulders and press him against the wall. She invaded his personal space instantly, not giving him a chance to retaliate or throw her off.

She started with his cheek, cupping it gently before moving lower, tracing her long fingers across his sharp jaw, then equally sharp clavicle.

The thief's breathing increased as she did so. He didn't attempt to break free, didn't try to get away or overpower Hange. He didn't even move, just stood there, staring at Hange with wide eyes.

Hange met his gaze, smiling when she saw that his pupils were already wide. She almost laughed from delight when her hand traveled down his chest, just a touch away from his pants, and Levi visibly shivered.

"It's late already," she purred, putting her hands on his waist. She started to slowly sink to her knees, lowering her hands to his thighs.

Something that very much resembled a moan escaped from his lips, as he stared down at Hange.

She moved closer still, just a breath away from where she knew Levi wanted.

Her grin slowly turned from seductive to victorious, as his fingers found their way into her hair.

"It's late," she repeated, one hand leaving his side to grasp at her own ankle. She fiddled with a strap of her left stiletto, feigning great interest in it. "That's why we should get some sleep."

She threw Lev's hands off her, standing up to her feet and stepping out of his arms. "We have a training tomorrow morning."

The thief's face was priceless - the incomprehension, the shock, the annoyance - Hange delighted in it all.

And that quiet sound - the angry groan, god, Hange wanted to set it as her ringtone.

She evened their score, and, damn, was she ecstatic that she did.

Even as she walked away, Hange felt the burning gaze that followed after her. She couldn't stop giggling all the way to her place, still high on her victory.

Erwin wanted Levi to watch her back, and while Hange wasn't yet ready to trust him to do that, she had a feeling, well... she had a feeling she'd enjoy it like blazes.

[excitedlysuffering]

Green With Envy

It’s past 2am and my eyes hurt so it’s unedited for now sorry y’all😅

Original Request (from Wattpad account): What makes the boys jealous, if possible?

Guest stars: Sasori and Sai!

Masterlist     

Naruto~

Oh, this boy… he’s too oblivious sometimes he doesn’t even know to be jealous. He was at a hot spring with friends once and someone says, “(Y/N) is so hot…” Naruto just grinned and said, “Yeah, she really is.”

But that doesn’t mean he won’t protect your honor. If someone says something a little too… risque like ‘Yeah, I’d tap that’ for example, get ready for more Narutos than you can count all charging you with a Rasengan.

He will not stand other guys cozying up to you. He’s the one who should be blessed with your hugs and cuddles. Won’t hesitate to cause a scene and yell to the entire world that he loves you and won’t let any other guy make a pass at you.

“Naruto, you didn’t need to go that far! You blasted him through three walls!” He’s endearing, really.

Sasuke~

Is jealousy an Uchiha thing or just a Sasuke thing? One of life’s many mysteries. Anywho, unlike Naruto, the second your name is brought up in conversation, he goes on guard and he’s listening closely.

If anything is said that he deems inappropriate, whether it be disparaging or otherwise, Sasuke had better be held back or he just might punch you into next week.

“Sasuke, calm down! He just said I had good taste in clothes!”

Even though he can easily get jealous, he knows the importance of freedom and he trusts you. He won’t come guns blazing (or sword slashing rather) and drag you away unless you need it of course.

The last thing he wants is for you to feel like you’re dating your dad or something. He’s very blunt and if he becomes uneasy with the way another male is talking to you, he’ll let said male know. Maybe after scowling with his Sharingan activated, however.

Neji~

Neji doesn’t really get jealous per se, more like offended on your behalf. Because of his upbringing, which taught him manners and the utmost respect, he really can’t understand talking about girls like they’re objects? Will never refer to a woman as ‘hot’ or anything like that.

If someone even dares speak of you like that, (even if you’re not necessarily together yet) he will fight them, and they will experience the 64 palms technique.

He especially hates people in your personal space. He really does trust you, just not others. Is not afraid to embarrass someone on your behalf. Half the time his glare is enough to scare them off, but some people are just clueless. (They wake up in the hospital)

“Neji! You can’t just throw me over your shoulder and leave! And that guy looked like he had seen a ghost?!” Needless to say, even cool, calm, and collected Neji has his limits.

Shikamaru~

Shika is too laid back to get jealous over little things. Somewhat like Neji, he doesn’t get jealous. He might feel threatened on your behalf, but never jealous. He can trust you with his life why shouldn’t he trust you with your relationship?

However, if someone is clearly harassing you or just generally making you uncomfortable, he will not hesitate to step in and make them leave. He won’t resort to physical violence (too much work), but he will intimidate them or put his genius to use and play some kind of trick on them.

He honestly has endless patience and at the same time no patience? Patience with you if you’re having a pleasant conversation with someone, but will go from 0-100 (or 50, really, anything more is a lot of effort) real quick.

“Shika, that guy thought he was really paralyzed, thanks to your shadow possession!” Being jealous is a waste of time, but clever revenge is always a treat for Shika.

Kiba~

So. Jealous. So. Easily. Kiba is naturally animalistic (in the best way) and just like a dog, can be very possessive. If explicitly asked, he will try to tone down his jealous fits, but will still be protective. If he does have free reign, however, oh boy…

No chill at all, whatsoever. Whether it’s absolutely destroying the object of his rage or just simply making out with you right there. No matter how annoyed he may get, he respects you with every fiber of his being and would never tell you to change or try to control you. He wouldn’t ever embarrass you (unless Kiba and Akamaru pummeling a room full of guys is embarrassing).

Just let him FIND OUT someone is making you feel the slightest bit of unease. One second, they’re chatting you up and then BAM! There’s a flash of white and a huge dog ready to maul them.

“Kiba, what do you mean they all looked at me for too long?! We walked in the door, of course, they turned to look!”

Gaara~

Gaara is a bit of a conundrum, but in a way that makes sense? Like, he doesn’t feel the need to get jealous of guys because when you leave, he’s going to be kissing you goodnight, and he’s the one who gets to spoil you.

However, he will get jealous of little things. Oh, you’ve spent a good amount of time playing with an animal/pet? Be prepared to walk in on Gaara giving them a stern lecture on stealing you from them. Gaara knows he has any potential suitors beat, but tiny adorable animals and children? In his mind, he can never be too cautious.

He gets a little pouty but that can easily be cured with cuddles, sometimes with that evil little pet that stole your affections from him. He can never stay jealous for long, he views it as an unproductive waste of time. He could be actively trying to get your attention, but instead, he’s going to be sulking in a corner? Yeah, no.

“Gaara! Stop scolding my cat, that’s not doing anything!”

Sai~

On the rare occasion that this cinnamon roll gets jealous, he’s confused and shocked. Like just imagine the surprised Pikachu face and that’s him. He knows what jealousy is, he can identify it just fine, but he doesn’t know why he’s jealous.

You aren’t doing anything, all you did was laugh at someone else’s jokes, but still… do you find them funnier than him? Are you going to leave him because he’s not that funny?! Cue the slow onset into insanity… Poor Sai is losing his mind to paranoia and made-up scenarios.

Will most certainly drag you away (gently) from whoever is taking your attention and leave. He doesn’t even bother with a fake smile, they don’t deserve it. He’ll explain to you calmly even though he’s panicking on the inside. Once he is back to normal he’ll show you his nearest artwork.

“What the-! Sai, you can’t just draw caricatures on people’s car!” You don’t even want to know how he figures out which car is theirs...

Kakashi~

Too cocky to be jealous. He has the right to be though because one glance at him without his face mask can cause instant pregnancy. Anywho, he knows you love him and some guy trying to hit on you like some high school douche isn’t going to change that.

He does like to intervene, however, just to flex like ‘yeah, I’m the boyfriend, now get lost’.

He’s not big on PDA, so he won’t start kissing you to ward off strangers, but he will wrap on arm around you or hold your hand and ask who your ‘friend’ is.

When there’s that one stubborn person who won’t take a hint, Kakashi doesn’t mind rocking someone’s world or getting kicked out, he needed to perfect that one offense technique anyways. He’s pretty laid back though, so it has to be somewhat drastic for this though, plus he knows you can handle yourself.

“A thousand years of death?! Isn’t it weird to be poking old men in the butt?!

~Akatsuki~

Pein~

Pfft. Who does he have to be jealous of? He’s a god among mortals, after all. To him, you’re a goddess and as such you belong with someone like him, not the peasants around you.

But on the offhand chance that someone doesn’t heed his godly status, he will not hesitate to pull you into his side and yell ‘Almighty Push’ and totally obliterate that loser. (A/N: Holy crap I think that needs to be a one-shot cuz, wow, Pein being all protective is making me swoon?)

If it’s not a big deal, he’ll easily let you take care of it. If you’re strong enough to catch Pein’s attention, you’re more than strong enough to deal with some lowlife. That doesn’t mean, however, that they won’t feel his wrath too.

If you ever want to witness a true royal rumble, dare someone to mess with Pein’s S/O. It’d be an epic tag team match (slaughter, really) for the ages. One would d be surprised how quick he can lose his cool when it comes to you.

“Pein, that’s the fifth time this month! Kakuzu is going to murder me if I ask for money to fix this wall!”

Deidara~

Need I even say it? Jealous boy all the way. You’re his favorite masterpiece so why should let an uncultured swine who doesn’t even understand your worth touch you? Rhetorical question, he wouldn’t.

He is not above fighting or placing a bomb on someone who gives you one too many glances. He’d make sure they knew it wasn’t art, they weren’t good enough for that, before blowing the offender up.

No one and he means no one gets to talk bad about his S/O. If someone insults you in his presence they might as well as swallowed one of his explosives and trusted him not to blow them up.

Will one 100% hide you from view if you look too appealing. He thinks you look ravishing, but he’s the only one who should be able to think that, in his opinion. Don’t worry, no one’s ever gotten close enough to harass you with Dei around. His one-eyed scowl is a great deterrent.

“Deidara! You blew up my favorite restaurant! He didn’t even say anything to me!”

Sasori~

Would rather die before admitting he was jealous. As adamant about not being jealous as he is about art being eternal. That’s not to say that he won’t take action though. He will use chakra strings to make the perpetrator walk away, meanwhile making them bump into literally everything in the general vicinity.

The two of you don’t leave the base all that often so it’s unusual to see an envious Sasori action, but it’s a real treat when it happens. After he deals with whatever idiot crossed him, he’ll be a bit more affectionate that day/night.

Not huge things, but instead of working on puppets all night, he’d be more apt to hold you that night. Average people hitting on you make him insecure because he realizes he’s not that great at normal relationships but he still doesn’t want to lose you. That feeds into his jealousy and he figures the only way to get rid of it is to make sure those other guys can’t offer anything he doesn’t have.

“Sasori! If you wanted a hug, you could’ve said that instead of treating that guy like a ball inside of a pinball machine!”

[musicallisto]

⚔ — 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥; (tyrion lannister x f!reader)

@multifandomfix​​ requested: Hey, for your start of the year event, could I get #44 with Tyrion Lannister, please? Thanks in advance if you end up choosing it. I hope 2021 will be a great year for you. 😊

song: bazzi - beautiful | 𝄞

summary: How could he tell you it was all his fault - that he had loved you to pieces since the stars had taken their first breath, and that Tywin’s revenge on him was to make you suffer while he was powerless?

author notes: I ain’t never seen a fluffy one-shot written by me, always half of it gotta be depressing

word count: 2.7k (what the HELL)

warnings: language + the typical stuff that’s commonplace in GoT

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 younger, young enough to hear her speak freely around you, you’d often heard the illustrious Cersei Lannister, blessed may her reign be, mutter her implacable adage through slit eyes and arrogant teeth; in Westeros, when one played the game of thrones, they were either crowned or buried. Some win and some die, she’d state with a smug grin, ignoring Jaime rolling his eyes right by her. You would always nod in silence; partly because you, lesser Lady of King’s Landing, certainly did not dare to contradict your most redoubtable playmate; but also because, deep down, you believed in her truths. You’d seen it when your father came back from his battles, commanding the Crown’s armies across the Southern seas, or when you heard the whispers at Court of yet another fallen Lord who believed he could play with fire like the Targaryens; there was little more than victors and vanquished, and you, as a lady-in-waiting to the future Queen, could sleep easy at night knowing you were on the right side of the world.

Yet when the rebellion led by your father’s army of mutineers was crushed by the King’s forces, when your brothers all fled into exile across the continent; when your title, name, and lands became those of a traitor to the Crown; you understood that in the game of thrones, death was the only blessing the powerful bestowed when they were clement; for there was far crueler and harrowing a punishment than torture: humiliation and servitude.

King Robert Baratheon, his mercy guided by Tywin Lannister’s murmurs, decided against sending you to death as he would have any of your brothers, despite the abject crimes your name now carried. In all his bonhomie, he had made you a servant of his wife instead, perpetually condemned to following the Lannisters around and never quite catching up to them.

“Why did the King spare my life?” you had asked Jaime one time, in hushed tones, aware that a servant caught talking to the Kingslayer with such familiarity would cause quite the scandal.

“Probably because he knows you were always a dear friend to Cersei and me.”

That was Jaime, as always; believing what he wanted to believe, and damned would be the one who’d change his mind. And to think he still thought, with a disconcerting assurance, that Cersei and you were still dear friends...

You hadn’t asked her why you were still alive. You knew she’d eye you for a moment, then order you to fetch her some water. She savored the sight of you in rugged clothes and immensely exhausted.

The only one who knew was Tyrion.

He always knew everything.

Even more so when it was about you.

“Why did the King spare my life?” you had asked him one evening, in the quiet banquet hall, only illuminated by flickering candles. He had looked up from his chalice of wine and at you, clearing the last dishes from the grand supper, and he swore his heart ruptured. He loved nothing more than staying absurdly late after dinner so he could catch you alone, but when your misty eyes, still too pure and bright for a world so cold, asked such unfathomable questions...

“I don’t know,” he had muttered casually.

Neither of you believed it. There was nothing Tyrion didn’t know.

But how could he tell you it was Tywin’s sick little pleasure, to keep you in chains at an arm’s length from him, from his embarrassment of a son? How could he tell you it was all his fault - that he had loved you to pieces since the stars had taken their first breath, and that Tywin’s revenge on him was to make you suffer while he was powerless?

“Sometimes I wish he had not,” you had confessed with this outrageous beauty of yours, chin up and prosody of a dame despite the greasy plates in your elegant hands.

Tyrion had bitten his tongue hard enough to draw blood. You were not the King’s prisoner, nor the castle’s, nor your family name’s; you were his, and he loved you so ardently, beyond all the words he knew, that he was utterly paralyzed.

The wine and hall were long cold by the time he went to sleep that night.

The following days, inexplicably, Tyrion was the first of the family to retire to his quarters after dinner. A pang of sullenness stung your throat when you brought the usual wine cup to an empty chair. Never before had he gone to bed without wishing you goodnight. Not since the night, so many years before, when you had run out on Cersei and Jaime to stay with their boring and lame little brother and talk the night away with his electric soul...

“Why didn’t Tyrion wait for you?” Jaime had whispered into your ear as you leaned over to pour him more wine.

You froze, almost long enough for Cersei to flair your discomfort. That was Jaime, as always; surprisingly perceptive when he allowed himself to be...

“I don’t know.”

You and Tyrion were so alike. You had the same inflection in the voice when you admitted to not knowing something... frustration and defeat.

“Maybe he’s not feeling well. You should check on him.”

“I’m certain he is f—”

“Y/N, go tend to my brother, please,” he cut, his voice a little louder.

You stopped, looking at Jaime, strong and tall and almost imperturbable. You were a servant of the Lannisters, but Jaime rarely bossed you around. You looked deep into his eyes, looking for a hint, a glimpse... and found it; a remnant of the boy you once knew, the childhood friend you sparred with wooden swords with. The boy with mischief and connivance.

“Yes, of course, my Lord.”

Your footsteps already echoed in the somber halls when you remembered you hadn’t even brought the wine pitcher back to the kitchens.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of Tyrion’s closed door. Years before, you had run up and down all the castle halls in search of passageways and hiding spots with a giggling Cersei on tow; yet you had never felt as lost and out of place as you did then, knuckles hovering over the wooden panel.

“Lord Tyrion, your brother asks to see you,” you called in one breath after knocking sharply. Calling the twins by their titles was disturbing enough to you; but Tyrion, brilliant and dedicated Tyrion, Tyrion you'd find reading hidden in the library and who'd blush when you asked him what his book was about—Tyrion, a Lord of Casterly Rock?

“No, he does not.”

There was nothing he didn't know. Especially when it came to his brother... and you.

“I...,” you sighed, at a loss for words. So many untold truths jostled in your throat, none eloquent enough for his bright soul. “He insisted I check up on you, sir.”

“Well I'm fine, am I not? You can go now.”

His words echoed in your skull with the strength of a thousand storms. Taking a shaky breath, you prepared to turn around and leave him... but a sudden force rumbled deep in you like a menacing earthquake. You might have been stripped of your lands and rights, you might bear the name of a traitor and a criminal, but he had been a general before he was a corpse and you had been an eldest daughter before you were a plaything. Your foot grazed the door, almost with too much violence, when you turned to face it.

“Truth be told, I wanted to check up on you as well, and to tell you that I’m bewildered at your recent behavior towards me, and that I don’t think I have done anything to deserve this shift in your attitude, and that I esteem you dearly and dared to hope that it was the same for you, and that I am frankly hurt by your sudden coldness, and that if you will not deign to tell me whatever is happening, then I will merely wish you a pleasant night and disturb you no further. Sir.”

Catching your breath, you turned on your heels before you could regret any of the words you’d just said. It would be a miracle if Tyrion managed to catch any of them clearly with how fast you had hammered them; let alone answer to them... yet as you were about to leave, the door was unbolted, and there stood a seemingly somber and preoccupied Tyrion.

“Come on in. And please, we’re alone. Don’t give me any of that “sir” crap, I know you hate it.”

And like so many times, so many years before, you stepped into Tyrion’s quarters like inside a forbidden dungeon, but it all seemed twice as small and dark as it did when you were reckless children.

The both of you remained silent for long moments, even after he had motioned for you to take a seat on the ottoman at the foot of his bed; the shadows from the fireplace projected onto his face made Tyrion’s unmoving silhouette all the more unreadable.

“Is it something I’ve done?”

“Do you wish to know why the King didn’t have your head when your father rebelled? Well — why my father didn’t?”

Your eyes widened for a split second, but your irritation barely subsided. For some reason, despite your never-ending quest for answers, the subject of your family’s treason and fate always prompted you to defensiveness when it was mentioned by others... especially by your best friend. The one who knew too much.

“What does this have to do with anything, Tyrion?”

“Everything, Y/N. It has to do with everything.”

“Enlighten me, then. You always know better than everyone else.”

Tyrion took a deep, interminable breath before continuing. It was only then that you noticed how shaky his hands were; for the first time, you read a disconcerting uncertainty on his face.

“My father knows humiliation is far worse than death, especially among Lords... and he knows how to take the most pleasant acts of revenge on his enemies. Your last name... and myself.”

You kept quiet. The puzzle was starting to piece itself together, spurred by Tyrion’s voice, low and even, albeit a little unsteady — as though the charred logs and crackling fire were confiding in you themselves...

“He’s known you since you were an infant. You were always proud and righteous, a proper Lady and a treasure to your name, but still pure and kind... all the traits I adored in you when I first met you. He knew nothing would hurt you more than stripping you of everything you had - status, respect, poise, and dignity... and your friends. He’s burying your family’s legacy under grime and filth and savoring every second of it...”

His words became progressively spaced, as though he was choosing them carefully. You hadn’t yet noticed your own hands were shaking now, too.

“And he can screw me over as well. Any chance he gets, he takes.”

His shoulders were solid and unmoving, but his words came in ragged breaths and laborious swallowing. He took a step forward, finally breaking free from the backlighting of the fireplace; his eyes were fixated on you, resolute and, despite the nervousness, more tender than ever. You remembered the expression all too well; it was the one he had worn all through the night you had talked until daylight about anything and everything... and seeing the enamored child in the man before you, you started to understand it all.

“He’s always known how much I care about you. How your presence never fails to lighten my mood and ease my worries, or how I’ve always looked for excuses to talk to you alone and catch your eye at supper. Most of all, how you’ve always given me exactly what I wanted... a chance. And he always thought it was the ultimate example of my weakness. To kick you around like an animal when I can’t do anything about it and know it’s all partly because of me is his favorite game...”

You clasped your hands together on your lap to curb your agitation. He had taken another step towards you, and you couldn’t break away from his gaze. Each of his features held more love than you’d ever known; more than when your father would ruffle your hair, or when you’d share your family tart with your brothers and smeared all the jam on their cheeks; and you couldn’t fathom how long it had taken you to discover this warm and fuzzy feeling you got whenever Tyrion was around had a simple name: home.

“Tyrion,” you spoke before the tears invaded your eyes. “Are you saying you fancy me?”

“Ah, to hell with it.”

Eyes entirely bathed in light now, he responded almost immediately and clearer than before.

“I’m saying I love you, Y/N, and that I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I first thought that I only liked your company, and admired your grace — that you were just the sister I wish I’d had, but I’ve had to face the fact that your face and voice set me afire in a way that nothing else can. I’m light and naive when you’re around... and you make me believe I have the strength they all won’t stop blabbering about. But I thought that if I could convince my father I saw nothing more in you than a whore like all the others, he would maybe let you go... maybe set you free.”

And the last confession seemed to hurt him more than everything else he had admitted that night, because it cut him right in his pride.

“I was wrong.”

An impossible soreness had taken over your throat during Tyrion's tirade, leaving you struck and mute. For a few seconds, all you could hear was the gentle hooting of the wind outside and the rapid and disjointed thumping of your heart... when you spoke eventually, it was but a hoarse whisper.

“All these years...”

“Yes.”

“And all those girls I had to see you with...”

“None of them mattered. None of them were you.”

“Why didn't you tell me, Tyrion?”

“Why would I?” he puffed with an acerbic laugh, gesturing at his frame, his scars, his cynicism and selfishness, and his wit and brilliant mind and feverish eloquence and golden eyes...

And suddenly your father's voice echoed in your head, unmistakable yet so distant, as he had spoken to you one day when you were little; he had said that angels existed in this world, closer than one might expect, and more often than not they took on unexpected forms, but once could always recognize them as they were the shiniest forces in the world around when everything was grim and black.

Maybe it was the dim lighting of the fire and moonlight that cast abstract shadows on the walls, or maybe your eyes and heart playing tricks on you, but you swore Tyrion was veiled by a pulsating halo, gold and black, that got even more radiant as he half-smiled.

When you leaned over and kissed him, you did not doubt that he truly was the angel your family tales had told you about, and maybe the only remaining angel in Westeros — because kissing him was like every star in the sky falling into place and forming new constellations, and when he grabbed your face to deepen the kiss, you were certain you felt his wings rustle.

“You have the most beautiful soul in this damn city, Tyrion,” you breathed when you finally pulled back.

Had he always looked at you with this unshakeable air of triumph and delight, or was it another trick of the light?

“If you knew how long I've waited to tell you how beautiful you are...”

“Tell me. Over and over.”

There was a smile on his face, the first genuine and devilishly charming one you'd seen in weeks when he stepped back and closed the velvet curtains.

He told you all night.

tagging; @fives-cup-of-coffee ​ @softeninglooks ​(all my writing)