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laughing-with-god · 3 years

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The Unsaid Vow (Prologue)

Synopsis- You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings- Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a four-year-old (I never wrote for a kid before pls gimme a break), also I chose my future son's name for this fic but pls feel free to name him whatever you want :)

Slow burn Yandere Husband Jungkook

Word Count; 5.4k

Unlike the vast majority of married couples, neither you nor Jungkook donned wedding rings.

Never in your five years of marriage did you regret this decision, given it was brought upon by you and your husband’s lack of funds for fancy wedding bands at the time of your rushed marriage.

Well, you were never annoyed....until tonight, that is.

The scene before you was exceptionally intimate, so much so that you felt the instinctual need to look away in respect of the two before you.

The woman was gorgeous, effortlessly attracting all the attention the small conference room had to offer. In addition to this natural charisma spurred on by her borderline enchanting looks, her short and skin-tight red dress showed off her pleasantly curvy body. Her long, silky, and jet-black hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail that provided a simple background for her darling features. Utterly doll-like was her face; petite, creamy in complexion with bright doe eyes and berry-pink lips.

Such a beautiful woman was currently in the arms of an equally, if not more so, attractive man.

He was tall and slender, yet not at all lanky given his sturdy build that was a testament to his strict workout regime. His olive skin was complimented with occasional tattoos, a mix of faded and fresh ink that you knew like the back of your hand despite only the tats on his hand currently showing in his crisp Valentino suit. His mid-length inky black hair was down to frame his sharp face, and indeed it was a very handsome one consisting of full eyebrows, bow-like lips, a fleshy yet impish nose, and two large, yet seemingly bottomless, raven orbs.

This man had his arms encircling the middle of the mysterious woman, her expression lifting into a light-hearted giggle as she leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.

Whatever she said must’ve been amusing to the man, given his usual stoic facade briefly melted away as he allowed a small smile at her words, his pearly round teeth peeking out for a split-second appearance.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that these two were lovers.

But there was only one problem with this scene.

That was your husband, Jungkook.

And that woman in his arms was not you.

As if sensing your distress and wanting to soothe your well-founded suspicion, Jungkook pulled away from the woman and ran his gaze across the room- only stopping when he spotted you. Your spouse then gestured at you, the girl following his line of sight and landing on you and your pitiful spot by the snack table. Her joyful expression briefly dropped for a blink-and-you'll-miss-it second, but she quickly plastered on another grin and nodded. The two then strode their way over to you, barely giving you enough time to steel your nerves and muster a polite purse of the lips.

Before you knew it, the woman was right in front of you with your partner at her side instead of yours. Much to your dismay, she was only more attractive up close, and you narrowly held back a grimace as she held out a hand in introduction. You took it and shook it lifelessly.

“Hello, you must be Mrs. Jeon. I’m Sana, Jungkook’s colleague.” Even her voice was pretty, musical and light to the ears.

“H-Hi, nice to meet you but please call me Y/n.” A brief and awkward pause as Sana briefly sized you up and down. “Um, Jungkook has never mentioned you….” you trailed off, side-eyeing your husband in hopes he would intervene and add context to this random goddess he’s thrust upon you.

Jungkook gracefully took his cue and explained, “Sana transferred from another branch out of the city and has only been with us for five months. I’m her case supervisor and have been taking care of her, showing her the ropes and whatnot.”

Sana didn’t even spare you a glance as she fondly looked up at your husband, coyly biting her lip and saying in a much softer tone that could've been just for his ears only, “And he’s been really good at taking care of me.”

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous stay-at-home wife who obsessed over the tiniest details between her husband and other women, but the double meaning behind her badly-whispered comment was enough to make you splutter in disbelief. However before you could even gather up the courage to ask just what the hell ‘taking care of me’ consisted of, two new faces waltzed up and joined the conversation.

“Are you all enjoying this fabulous Christmas party?” A tall, broad-shouldered but nice-looking man asked in a tone of familiar amicability.

You thankfully smiled up at him, having met him many times before.

His name was Jin, and he was the one who got Jungkook this job.

It occurred about five years ago when you first told Jungkook that you were pregnant. Being the romantic but overall good guy that Jungkook was, he insisted that you two get married so that your child could have parents who were at least husband and wife. In addition it would also lessen the judgment in your two families, which at the time was extremely appealing to you. You had agreed to marry on one condition: after running to the courthouse you two would need to move in together in a decent apartment with a room for the nursery. But getting an apartment would mean month-to-month rent, and Jungkook’s tattooing gigs weren’t stable enough to ensure that.

Jin was originally a friend of Jungkook’s older brother, but when he heard through the grapevine about the issue, he bought Jungkook a couple of suits and offered him a job at the corporation he worked at.

Now Jungkook made more than enough money to support your little family, and it was all because Jin took a chance on a college drop-out and his knocked-up girlfriend.

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off by the unknown lady beside Jin.

“I’d say a little too much fun if anything. Sana and Jungkook, we get that you're the infamous office couple but maybe tone it down a bit, huh?” She joked while raising her brows at the close proximity between the two.

A long and tortuous silence swept the scene.

Jin glanced at you, pity swimming in his usually carefree eyes.

Not trusting your voice to say anything and desperately wanting to hide your face from the piercing eyes, you distracted yourself by taking calculated sips of watered-down eggnog.

“Daehyun...this is actually Y/n, Jungkook’s wife,” Jin told the lady in an uncomfortable voice.

You didn’t know what stung more, the fact that this stranger thought that there was more chemistry between Sana and your husband than with you, or that it was Jin who corrected this mistake and not Jungkook himself.

“O-Oh, well it’s nice to meet you.” Daehyun awkwardly said to you while avoiding direct eye contact.

You offered a tight smile, “Pleasure.”

Whatever gratitude you could’ve had for Daehyun’s clear embarrassment quickly vanished when the woman went on to continue, “I’m sorry. Jungkook never mentioned being married and he doesn’t wear a ring so I didn’t even know. I bet it must be interesting for his housewife to meet his office wife though, right?”

She laughed, not realizing that she only succeeded in putting a foot in her mouth right before stomping it all over your pesky little heart. The group didn’t seem to share your uneasiness, all three of them politely chuckling along to the lukewarm joke at your expense. Once again, you focused on your dwindling beverage to avoid the burden of speaking or even facing them directly, too scared that your miserable expression would be unanimously inspected.

“Well, we just came over to recruit you all for some karaoke!” Jin cheerfully announced, clearly trying to change the subject, “There’s a machine in the break-out room and it’s more fun to sing with a group.”

“More like you want an audience.” Jungkook wittingly teased, a handsome smirk on his face as Sana playfully scolded him with a push to the chest.

“I’ll take your jabs now Kookie because I know they stem from your insecurity that I can actually upstage you in the vocals department.” Jin rebutted in good nature, even letting your husband’s old nickname slip.

Daehyun and Sana both guffawed at this declaration, exaggerated disbelief present on their faces.

“Jungkook is the best singer in the office. He’ll upstage you without even trying.” Daehyun said in a tenor of utter confidence.

“Only one way to find out!” Jin brushed the comment off, pointing to the direction of the assumed breakout room, “Karaoke anyone?”

The so-called office wife nodded enthusiastically, taking your husband’s arm and looking up at him to plead, “Can we do a duet of that one song we like?”

Jungkook, for the first time in seemingly hours, shot you with a questioning gaze.

Be married to someone for a while and you’ll learn how to decipher what they’re trying to say with just mere looks. Your husband was wordlessly inquiring if you were going to join, if he should go along with the group or if you two should break away and do something else.

The ball was finally in your court.

Not wanting to be rude but needing to get away from these people before you lost your cool, you decided on a subtle excuse.

“I need a refill, but maybe we can meet you all later?” You said, shaking your empty paper cup as if to prove your case.

“Oh, well the drinks are right behind you.” Sana condescendingly pointed out, tightening her hold on your husband and began steering him towards the exit, “We’ll save a seat for you.”

Bewildered, you watched as Jungkook obediently followed her lead with the Daehyun girl trailing behind.

He didn’t even spare you a glance.

You wanted to be angry.

You wanted to storm up to your husband, yank him out of the clutches of his colleagues and practically drag him back home under the premise that he would never speak to Sana ever again.

But instead of a righteous rage fueled by the marital vows you two took, utter exhaustion bestowed upon you and prevented any instigation on your part.

Maybe earlier in your marriage you would’ve fought for his attention, but now you simply just wanted to go home and lick your wounds with the help of a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream while self-obsessing over Sana’s outrageous attractiveness. After all, who could blame any hot-blooded man for choosing that goddess over you? What could you possibly do but lean back and accept that she was the obvious choice?

Other than her being a knockout beauty while you were merely average on your best day, she had other qualities that made her a more appealing catch. She was most likely younger than you, obviously fit, more ambitious and professionally driven than you, and presumably has no kids.

Meanwhile, you were just an old stay-at-home mom who lived off of her husband’s paychecks while he fucked his coworkers behind her oblivious back.

Before you could draw more detailed comparisons between Sana and yourself, you felt a large hand place itself on the middle of your back, successfully guiding your attention to the only person who bothered staying by your side.

Jin smiled sadly at you, sympathy shadowing his expression as he gestured with his other hand to the empty cup still in your hold. “Let’s get you some more eggnog.”

You nodded wordlessly, still speechless from the interaction, and allowed the taller man to guide you towards the snack table. Jin then took your cup and refilled it himself, providing you the opportunity to pick at the catered food in some cheap attempt at stress eating. By the time Jin came back with a full cup, you were halfway done with a sugar cookie and eyeing the meatballs next.

“Here ya go,” Jin said as he handed over the drink to you. You took it and nodded in thanks but kept your eyes glued to the food, not wanting him to see just how defeated and tired your face probably was. But, Jin wasn’t going to let the whole thing go. “Y/n….I know what you saw and heard looks really bad but trust me….nothing is going on between Sana and Jungkook.”

You snorted. “It doesn’t just look bad, Jin. It was like they were practically rubbing it in my face. Him having an affair isn’t the problem, it’s the way they’re not even bothering to keep it down. The least they could do is be discreet.”

Jin’s jaw slightly dropped, “‘Him having an affair isn’t the problem’? Y/n, do you even hear yourself? Of course that would be a problem! Do you not care about your own marriage anymore?”

And there it was.

The big question.

Did you truly even care about this marriage?

Well, let’s look at the facts.

One: The disrespect of his alleged mistress was more offensive to you than the fact that she was a mistress.

Two: Jungkook dragging you along to this office Christmas party was the first time in over a year that he bothered to take you out.

Three: You two had humble beginnings and could barely afford food, much less wedding bands when you first got married, but now he was a very wealthy man and had no excuse for not buying you or himself a ring. Unless, of course, he enjoyed acting single around other women.

Four: And on top of all this, it had to be factored in how distant he has been with overwhelming work hours that prevented any alone time with your husband. Sex with Jungkook has been off the table for almost a year now.

But did any of this really bother you until tonight? The answer was a resounding no. You were willing to take all those burdens in stride but tonight it wasn’t just about the fact that you were the unwanted wife Jungkook got sacked with, it was the fact that you were humiliated and forced to face the type of girl Jungkook should’ve been married to all along. That was all you were truly upset about.

The conclusion that you indeed didn’t care about your marriage and haven’t in some time now hit you in a sudden wave, but in no way were you shocked.

Voice shaky and brittle, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with Jin and say the one thing you always secretly thought but never dared utter out loud. “I-I guess I always expected it to end like this. When we were younger, he was always the popular one and all the girls wanted him. We were only dating for three months when I got pregnant, and if it weren’t for our son he probably would’ve dumped me eventually and left for another girl. But, he stuck around for his kid because he’s a good father. And I’ve been nothing but a burden to him for a while now.”

Tears began to blur your vision, forcing you to quickly duck down and quietly sip at your drink so as to not embarrass yourself even more.

You heard a shuffle and suddenly Jin was holding you, using both of his lengthy arms to cage you in and rest you against his broad chest. It had been a long time since a man had held you like that, and you practically went boneless at the contact. You closed your eyes and tried to will away the incoming tears, even going so far as to solely focus on the scent of Jin’s cologne as he soothingly said, “Y/n, listen closely to what I’m about to say. You and Hugo were never a burden to Jungkook, and you two never will be. Your marriage was sudden, but it doesn’t make it less valid than any other marriage out there. Jungkook has been with you for so long, he just doesn’t realize when other women are interested in him because he’s been off the market forever. But I promise you, if I knew for even a second that he cheated, I would tell you right away.”

You didn’t say anything.

Although Jin’s words were comforting, they weren’t necessarily true. A marriage that started from a healthy courtship and true love instead of inconvenient circumstances was of course more valid than yours. And even though you were sure of Jin’s honesty and loyalty to you, Jungkook could’ve easily kept his affair secret from Jin as well.

However, you didn’t wish to concern Jin anymore. You already put him through too much awkwardness tonight and didn’t want to keep him by your side as some sort of emotional sponsor any longer than you already have. Jin always loved parties and was the life of any one he was invited to, even if it was just a lame annual office gathering. You then felt guilty for putting Jin in a situation where he would even have to console you when he should be out enjoying karaoke with the rest of his coworkers.

You promptly pulled away from Jin and wiped at your face. He released you and also took a step back, carefully studying you for any signs of further turmoil. Once sure that your face was acceptably dry, you gazed back up at him and offered a thankful smile. “Thanks Jin, I’m sorry I just dumped all of that on you. I really have to use the ladies' room though, can you point me to it?”

“It’s right by the conference room,” Jin informed, pointing out the general direction for you. You nodded and took a few steps toward it before he grasped your wrist to stop you and ask, “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just find you and Jungkook when I’m out. Go and join the others for karaoke.”

Jin nodded but seemed unsure.

You didn’t look back to see if he actually went to follow the others, instead just advancing to the restrooms, secretly looking forward to some alone time even if it had to come from a public bathroom.

Once you entered the restroom you were relieved to find it completely empty, you weren’t sure if you could handle another run-in with Jungkook’s female colleagues. They all seemed to have a personal vendetta against you.

Instantly, you dashed to the mirror to inspect your makeup, assuming at least the mascara was ruined from your little cry. Thankfully, the damage was minimal and you were able to clean the smudges up with a damp napkin. You focused all your attention on the dreadfully small task, trying not to study your reflection too much given it would just conjure up more mental comparisons to all the other prettier women you encountered that night.

Yet the small task couldn’t last a lifetime, and you had to resort to looking at your phone in search of things to do. You weren’t emotionally ready to go out and search for your husband, so you wanted to prolong your time in the bathroom. Although it hasn’t been that long since you left the house, you decided to text the babysitter for any updates about your son.

To Emily: Hey, is everything okay with Hugo?

It only took about 40 seconds for the teenage neighbor girl to text back an answer, clearly on top of things and overly eager to provide any updates.

Emily: Yes! He ate his dinner, took his bath and we’re about to get ready for bed.

Your motherly instincts were satisfied with that response, but it didn’t do anything to subdue your desire to return back home. Your thumbs briefly hovered over the keypad, somewhat hesitant with the next text you were about to send.

To Emily: Great, thanks again for doing this. Listen, I think we might head back home sooner than we thought. Don’t worry tho, I’ll still give you the pay for the full four hours.

Before you could wait for a response from her, the sound of multiple incoming footsteps interrupted the steady silence in the restroom. Muffled female conversation could also be heard, the slight laughter and bickering amongst a group of women approaching the bathroom. Your fight or flight instinct was triggered, and to avoid any more awkward encounters you rushed to the nearest stall and shut the door- fully prepared to wait out the faceless group of female colleagues.

You heard the restroom door swish open before the women burst in, chatting and giggling with their heels clicking against the tile floor. One of the unknown females made way to the stall beside you, the others presumably hovering by the mirror if the sudden comments about their appearances were anything to go by. You quietly sighed and pulled out your phone again, ready to drown out their office politics talk.

Only for the conversation to somehow steer towards you.

“Did you see her?”

“Of course, I was very confused, to be honest.” One of them replied. “I mean….look at Jungkook and you just assume that whoever he’s with is drop-dead gorgeous, and she was just eh.”

“Yeah, she was pretty plain. What was her name again?”

“Y/n.” A third voice cut in, this one eerily familiar to you.

You glued a hand over your mouth to silence your gasp.

It was Sana.

“Did he ever mention her around you? You are the closest to him in the office Sana, and we didn’t even know he had a wife until tonight.”

“No, I didn’t know until tonight either.”

“What?! That’s insane. Literally all the time he spends with you: getting coffee, buying you lunch, driving you home after late nights, and he conveniently never mentions that he has a wife at home?”

“That’s suspicious. But I guess if I had a dog like that at home, I’d never mention her either.”

Cruel laughter from all of them.

The toilet from the stall next to you flushed, then opened as a new voice entered the discussion while she approached the sinks.

“It’s more than suspicious. He doesn’t even wear a wedding ring. And he’s so close to Sana but never mentioned that he’s married?” A pause as she washed her hands. “It’s obvious what he’s trying to do. Jungkook is trying to have an affair with Sana.”

Although this exchange was extremely hurtful to you, you felt somewhat relieved that you weren’t the only one to see what your husband was doing.

A pause hung in the air as none of the women spoke for a minute, they were willing to gossip but apparently outright declaring the obvious was a step too far for them.

Eventually, one of them chimed in with their own observation.

“Can you blame him? Sana you’re the most beautiful person in the office and you look so good next to him anyway. Much better than that cow Y/n.”

Another round of obnoxious laughter that broke your heart.

“C’mon guys. We gotta head back. Jungkook is gonna get anxious if Sana is away for too long.” Someone teased.

They all murmured in agreement, heading towards the exit as a group before one stopped them with a final question.

“Wait, Sana. If Jungkook does want to have an affair with you, what are you going to do?”

Although you couldn’t physically see Sana, you practically heard the smirk on her face as she said, “Who says we already aren’t having one?”

Needless to say, you ditched the Christmas party almost immediately after the bathroom incident.

You texted Jungkook a white lie about Emily struggling with Hugo, although a good father would’ve known something was up because your son had never given babysitters any trouble before. But luckily, your husband also wasn’t doing so hot in the dad department either.

You would’ve felt bad for not telling the truth if the truth wasn’t so fucking embarrassing.

“Hey, I’m gonna go home to cry like a little girl because I caught your coworkers talking shit about me. Oh, and also your little girlfriend accidentally let it slip that you’ve been fucking her this whole time. K talk to ya later!”

You grimaced at the thought of actually sending that text.

Sure it’s what that cheating bastard deserves, but you just weren’t emotionally ready for that fight yet. Especially after the night you endured, you needed some time to pick yourself up and figure out what to do next.

Divorce was the next logical step, but you were financially dependent on Jungkook. If you moved out and took Hugo with you, where would you two stay? How could you afford to be a single parent? And if Jungkook were to try to fight you for custody or the divorce in general, you would need a damn good lawyer. Unfortunately, lawyers weren’t cheap, especially one that stood a chance against Jungkook and all his wealth.

Your shoulders sagged with the imaginary weight of all these burdens.

When you entered the high-rise penthouse that you called home, you were surprised to see Emily anxiously pacing the foyer in waiting for your arrival.

“Hey, how was Hugo?” You greeted politely, already opening your clutch to pull out the agreed-upon salary.

“M-Mrs. Jeon, I swear I tried to have him in bed by eight like you said but he’s being stubborn and said he won’t go to sleep until you come back and read to him-” The teenager rushed out all at once, clearly nervous that you would scold her.

You held a hand out to stop her rambles, using your other hand to give her the money, and offered her what you hoped was a comforting smile, “It’s okay, Em. Thanks for doing this on such short notice. Why don’t you run home now and try to enjoy your Christmas Eve?”

Emily looked relieved that you weren’t mad, gratefully taking the cash before grabbing her jacket and shoes to make her exit. “Thanks so much for this Mrs. Jeon. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas.” You farewelled while walking the young girl out, locking the door behind her.

You turned around and proceeded down a long hallway that led to the bedrooms, stopping at the door beside the master room which belonged to your four-year-old son. You opened it to peer inside, the familiar deep blue walls with painted-on sea creatures greeting you back, swiftly reminding you once more of Hugo’s obsession with the ocean.

Your son was bundled up in a twin bed so big that it practically drowned him, his small frame barely being recognizable in the large fish-printed duvet wrapped around his tiny frame, only his small and adorable face peeking out to stare right back at you.

Hugo was essentially a carbon copy of Jungkook. At first you were somewhat resentful about this, how was it possible that you carried a baby for nine months and he came out with absolutely none of your features? But after a while of watching Hugo grow up and come into his own slowly but surely, you were pacified by the conclusion that while he may look exactly like his father, his personality and heart took after you.

“Dumpling, why did Emily say you were giving her a hard time and wouldn’t go to bed?” You asked gently, sitting by his side and petting his black hair.

‘Dumpling’ was a nickname you chose for Hugo since you first found out you were pregnant with him. It stemmed from your sudden pregnancy craving to eat dumplings and nothing else, you once even going two straight weeks surviving off the food. There were many times where Jungkook had to bribe you into eating other things, playing on your guilt for not providing your baby all the nutrition he needed. But even now ‘Dumpling’ still stuck, if Hugo’s chubby cheeks were anything to go by.

“Mommy, I-I’m sorry but-” His big doe eyes looked up at you in teary guilt, “I really needed you here. It was a nece-necess-”

“Necessity, bub.” You finished for him, grinning at his attempt at a big word.

Part of you wanted to scold the boy for being difficult, but you didn’t have the heart to. Lately, Hugo has been more clingy to you than ever before. Yet it was practically impossible to punish him because Hugo has always been a good kid and you knew deep down that he didn’t act out unless there was something else going on. You suspected that it had something to do with the lack of his father’s presence that forced him to hold onto you like his life depended on it.

“Well try not to do it again, okay? Emily is a nice girl and she’s just following my orders when she tells you to go to bed.” You said, ducking down to peck the crown of his head and continue running your fingers through his hair.

Hugo nodded in understanding but ultimately stayed silent, basking in your cuddles.

All was silent for a passing moment, and while Hugo enjoyed his mother’s touch, your mind gradually returned to the turmoil that was your marriage.

A sudden epiphany struck you and bit your lip as you debated an idea.

Should you expose your son to your future plan?

The victim of any divorce has always been the children who were left behind. And the last thing you wanted to do was blindside Hugo. Perhaps you should play the hypothetical game just to see where your son’s head was at? It went without saying that Hugo was closer to you than Jungkook and you were more of a parent than your husband. But still, every kid deserved to have a say in their parents’ divorce.

“Bub, how would you feel if….it was just me and you?” You hesitantly inquired.

“What do you mean mommy?” Hugo titled his head in bewilderment and craned his neck to look back up at you.

“What if me and you went away to live together?” You clarified.

“Like a va-vayca-”

“Vacation? And no. But forever. Just me, you and no one else.” You whispered, as if Jungkook himself would storm in and catch you planning your escape with the toddler.

“Oh.” A pause as you could practically hear the mechanisms in his four-year-old brain trying to work out the logistics of what you just proposed. “Okay.”

The nonchalance in his youthful voice had you taken aback.

“It’s a really big decision, Hugo. You wouldn’t mind...not living with daddy anymore, right? You would hardly ever see him, dumpling.”

The boy shifted to lean more of his body against you, essentially resting against you with his head on your chest as he said, “But it’s like that already, mommy.”

Your heart broke.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer to you, feeling a maternal instinct to comfort and protect.

“Okay Dumpling. I need you to promise me not to tell daddy what we talked about.”

“”Kay.” Hugo yawned and closed his eyes, inhaling deep breaths of your scent and beginning the process of falling asleep. “When do we leave?”

“It’ll take some time, bub. You start school in a few months, so mommy will try to find a job while you’re there.” You told him, not bothering to try to explain the concept of a lawyer or apartment deposits on top of that. “But we can do this. It has to be a secret but you're my partner in crime.”

“Like spies?”

You chuckled, “Yeah, like spies. Promise to work with mommy in utter secrecy?”

You held up a pinky, one that Hugo grasped with his own.

“Promise.”

Author’s Note: So....A while ago before I took my long ass hiatus, I did a poll for which yandere story I should write next. The Unsaid Vow won but that was around the same time that shit hit the fan in my life. Recently was scrolling through my notes on my phone and found some of the plot points for this story and I needed a lil break from QQ. Plus I know so many ppl were hyped for this concept so....Here ya go lol. This is kinda short but it’s just a set up, Chapter one’s plot line will start a few months after this when Hugo will start kindergarten and Y/n will actually start looking in to jobs, lawyers and apartments. Also I’m sorry but I’m really bad at writing for kids lol, and I absolutely refuse to write that gross ass baby talk so just pretend your son is a lil genius okay? Also srry Once but I needed really pretty girls to be villians in my story so yeah, Twice girls in here aren’t likable but aren’t reflective of how i actually feel about them lol.

Big thanks to @sushireads once again for creating the cover art for this fic. They literally are becoming my go-to for fic art.

And my beta readers @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop! They beta’d for QQ and I came to them really early about this fic. They were with me since the beginning and have given me advice with creative choices to just simple grammar. They easily could’ve leaked the first draft of this too but they didn’t and kept it secret for a while. I was really insecure about getting out of my comfort zone with this plot but they really guided me.

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

Jane Banner x Reader - Cold Hands and Warm Lips

Summary: How many times can you keep Jane Banner warm for her to fall in love with you.

Warnings: (+18), mentions of murder and violence, explicit content, explicit language, cursing, smut, oral sex (r giving), dom/sub/switch dynamics (slightly), sex toys, teasing, kissing, mentions of sexual abuse, angst, mentions of trauma, trust issues | Spoilers from Wind River.

Words> +10k

A/N>is Hello all! My first time writing for Jane Banner, and well, this was intense. This is actually my early birthday present to my dear @abimess, who asked me for a story about this character she loves so much. And well, here it is. I really hope that she, and all of you, enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Good reading, everyone, and forgive any mistakes, especially geographical ones, if you have been to Wind River and things were different from this fic.

All Works Masterlist

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It could be so fucking cold in Wind River.

Even in spring, when there was almost no snow and the animals were out hunting, the wind was cold.

So now, at the height of winter, you could barely get out from under the covers to pee at night.

Grunting through your teeth, you forced your legs beyond the frigid air of your bedroom, and headed into the bathroom, mentally cursing for having that extra cup of tea before you went to bed.

After relieving yourself, you almost fell over in fright when you heard a noise at your door.

"What the fuck?" You muttered confusedly, looking at the clock in the room across the hall. Three in the goddamn morning.

Another knock had you cursing before walking to open the door.

You were quite surprised to find Ben Shoyo, chief of the local police, on your doorstep.

"Good night, Y/N." He greeted with a smile as he hugged his arms, the icy cold seeping inward. "Sorry to show up like this, the vehicle broke down and it's starting to snow really hard."

"It's okay, Ben. Come on in." You said before stepping inside.

In the low heat of your kitchen, you poured some of the remaining tea while the man sat at the counter.

“How are things up here, kid? You haven’t been to town in a while.” Ben asked after taking a sip of his drink. You shrugged your shoulders.

"Honestly, Ben, it is not going very well." You confess. "Not after Natalie."

Ben clears his throat.

"I’m sorry, it was stupid of me to ask." He said with a guilty expression.

"No problem." You mumble wanting to change the subject quickly. "The blizzard should lessen in the next few hours, feel free to use the phone, the television or help yourself to food. I need to get some sleep before my shift tomorrow."

"Alright thanks again girl." Ben said before you left the room quickly.

Ben has known you long enough for you to trust him. So as soon as you get back to your room, you fall asleep.

When you wake up in the morning, he's gone. There's a note on the counter saying "I ate the rest of Aiyana's Succotash. Come to the police station and see me, I'll buy you lunch. You need to get out of the house."

You mentally cursed him. Aiyana was your neighbor. Well, you don't know what the distance limit is for someone to be considered a neighbor, but since almost all Wind River houses are isolated in small villages, you refer to Aiyana and her family as your neighbors, even if you have to drive twenty minutes by car or sledge to get to her house.

The point is that she makes the best native american meals, and because you spend a lot of time alone, she also sets some for you. It's been that way since your mother, who used to be Aiyana's best friend, passed away when you were a teenager.

Your shift as a forest ranger was reduced to part-time with homicide investigations into the dam area, so once you're done around mid-day, you drive your truck back through the city area, to the police station.

The place is not crowded, but as the locals recognize you, you greet them with shy nods and smiles before entering the building and heading to the reception.

"Good morning, Siu." You greet the police officer you’ve known since you’re little with a smile.

“Wow, long time no see, stranger!” She comments amusedly, leaning on the reception counter in front of her. You laugh lightly. "How can I help you dear?"

"I’m having lunch with Ben today. Is he around?"

She makes a little face. "Oh yes, he’s talking to the hollywood."

“Sorry?”

"The FBI girl." She says. "She arrived a few days ago, for you know why. She says she's here to help, but we know what outsiders are like."

You mumble in agreement, and Siu sighs lightly.

"But they should be finishing by now." She says. "I think Lambert will take her to the mountains."

"Cory? I thought he worked alone." You comment and Siu just shrugs, turning her attention to the reports scattered on the reception desk. "I'll wait here, Siu. Thank you."

“No problem, hon. Call me if you need anything.”

You waited for more than ten minutes before Ben left his office. And he was not alone.

You were surprised at how immediately attracted you felt to someone you were seeing for the first time.

Well, in your defense, she was a very beautiful woman.

“Y/N! Hey!” Ben greeted as he laid eyes on you. “Sorry about the time, I was finishing things up with Jane.”

You exchanged a quick look with the woman before Ben rushed over to introduce you two.

"This is our ranger." He began politely, patting you on the shoulder as he said your name next. "And this is Jane Banner, special FBI agent."

"Pleasure." You spoke as you reached out your hand to her, and completely ignored how your skin seemed to tingle at the brief touch as she greeted you back.

"I'll be going now, Ben. See you later." Jane informed the chief before she left. You waited for Ben to check with Siu if there were no calls before you two went out to lunch.

"How are things in the investigation? Any progress?" You asked as soon as you were outside, frowning slightly as the sun rays hit your face.

Ben sighed.

"I really wish I could say yes, girl." He responded by walking beside you towards the local restaurant area. "But at least we're going to pay Chip a visit this afternoon."

You were surprised to hear this. Natalie's brother wasn't exactly the talking type. And that's exactly what you said to Ben, who just chuckled.

"I know that." He said. "But Miss Banner wants to try everything. And Cory is helping us."

"Well I hope you guys find something." You say.

You reach the food trailers, and after Ben buys you lunch, you sit at one of the tables with your orders.

"How are things with you really?" He asks. "I know Natalie's death moved you, 'cause you two were close and everything, but beyond this. Have you been doing anything besides watching the forest?"

You were slightly annoyed that Ben summed up your friendship for years with a simple "you two were close", but wishing to preserve the peace of lunch, you just mumbled that the forest kept you busy enough.

"Last time you were back at my place, you were seeing someone, weren't you?" he asked casually, making you laugh. Ben loved good gossip.

"I was, but it didn't work out." You answer. "And don't worry, I'm just fine by myself."

"Well I heard that Derick is single again." It starts. "He is a good boy, works hard."

"You sound like my dad, Ben." You retort, making him laugh.

"Well someone has to take care of you up here." He comments and you laugh softly as you shake your head.

After your mother died, your father decided to move back to the southwest. You didn't go with him because Wind River was your home, but he kept in touch by phone. Since you were sixteen, the village and the snow have been your only family, and it was normal for you that people like Ben, Aiyana or Natalie's parents would treat you like their own family.

Your lunch with Ben didn't last much longer after that. He was good at small talk, but whenever he tried to ask more deeply about your life you swerved the subject to him again.

Saying goodbye, you decided to take a walk around town before heading home. You were needing to restock some kitchen stuff.

The community market was simple and small, and sold practically everything, as it was the only one.

Even so, you were a little embarrassed to find Agent Jane at the counter.

"Hey, Ranger." She greeted almost ironically when she noticed you approaching the line. You noticed she was shopping for winter clothes.

"Hello again, Miss Banner."

She lets out a nasal laugh.

"Just Jane is fine." She commented. You cleared your throat, looking away.

"It's not polite to call strangers by their first names." You retort and she tilts her head slightly, surprised by the formality.

"I really don't mind that." She gently insists. "We're not that formal in Vegas."

"This is not Las Vegas, Miss Banner." You retort seriously. "And we only use first names with friends in Wind River."

You don't know why you're not being friendly to her. But from your experiences with outsiders, it's justifiable. It makes no difference, Jane, like all those who came from outside, would be frightened by the brutality of this place and leave. Outsiders always leave.

Jane looks almost disappointed with your hostility, but the cashier is tending to her and she doesn't attempt any further conversation.

After paying for her clothes, she glances at you quickly before leaving, but you don't smile back.

When you get in your car, and drive back home, you want to believe that the emerald eyes are on your mind just because it was something exceptional in your daily routine.

//-//-//

You valued tranquility.

Even more the tranquility of your home, in the middle of a blizzard, with a book and a mug of hot chocolate in front of the fireplace.

So when the silence was broken by hard knocks against the door, you thought it was the gods testing your patience.

The second interruption in four days.

It had to be a test.

Putting everything aside, you shuffled to the front door, and barely had time to absorb a snow-covered from head to toe Jane Banner before she rushed past you.

"Yeah, sure, you can come in." You ironically mumbled.

"I'm sorry I just needed to get out of the cold." She commented through gritted teeth, hugging her body with her arms. You rolled your eyes as you closed the door.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, crossing your arms.

"Work."

You took pity on the way she was shivering from the cold, and waved toward the fireplace. Jane moved quickly in the direction and sat by the fire.

"I was supposed to meet the rest of the team up further in the mountain." She counts, her voice coming out stale with the cold. You tell yourself that you're only getting a mug to serve her hot chocolate because you'd be in trouble if a cop died of hypothermia on your carpet. "But all of a sudden it was snowing, and I couldn't see anything. I got out of the car to try to locate myself and I nearly froze to death. Luckily I saw your lights on."

"Luckily." You muttered wryly as you walked back into the living room, a full mug in your hands that you handed to Jane as soon as you reached her.

She looked surprised at the kindness but thanked you sincerely.

"So you live alone here?"

"Yes."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes."

Your short, sharp answers made Jane look away awkwardly, taking a long sip of her hot chocolate. You sighed, walking towards the landline phone on your wall.

You checked, but just as you expected, there was no signal.

Nor is your cell phone in your pocket.

Fucking great.

"You'll be stuck here for a while, Miss Banner." You warned when you returned to your place in the armchair, noticing that Jane continued to shiver from the cold. "But as soon as the blizzard ends, you must go."

"Why?" she asks curiously. You think she regretted having said anything because her eyebrows furrow slightly, but she doesn't back down.

"Because this is my house and I don't like strangers."

She looked surprised by your response. You sighed before kneeling in front of her, raising your hands to the sides of her head.

"Excuse me." You muttered before removing the burrow, watching the snow falling on the carpet. Jane just looked at you, waiting, but clearly thankful for the cold sensation dismissing a little. "Your clothes are covered in snow, Miss Banner. You'll continue to be cold if you don't take them off."

"I don't have anything else to wear."

You moved away, feeling your face heat up. That's not what you meant for her to do. You mind immediately thought of her taking her clothes, one by one, but you push those thoughts away the same second they came. Clearing your throat, you got to your feet again.

"You can use something of mine." You said. "I'll get some blankets too."

It took three minutes for you to return with a set of sweaters to the living room.

Jane had removed her coat, and you scolded yourself for immediately noticing the bulge of her breasts in the social shirt she was wearing.

Maybe Ben was right, being isolated in the mountains wasn't so good for you.

Handing her the clothes, you also pointed to the bathroom, where she could change.

While she did, you busied yourself with collecting the small mess of objects you left scattered around the room.

Jane couldn't tell exactly what she found so intriguing about you. Maybe the right word was attractive.

She just knew she was in the middle of a blizzard, in the bathroom of someone she'd only seen once, trying to figure out why her body shivered at the smell of you on the borrowed clothes.

She thought it best to be satisfied with the warmth that filled her body with the new clothes you handed her, and to completely ignore any other sensation that comes from wearing your clothes, or from being able to smell your scent if she tilted her face a little more.

On her way out of the bathroom, she couldn't ignore her own curious nature, tied or not to her work, and let her gaze roam over the photos on the walls from the hallway to the living room.

She stopped walking when she noticed a specific photograph.

"Careful not to break." You warned when you noticed Jane, standing in the hallway with one of the frames that were on the hallway table. You walked over to pick up the snow-soaked clothes she was carrying, but Jane looked at you seriously.

"How do you know Miss Hanson?" She questioned and you raised your eyebrows.

Sighing slightly, you reached for the clothes, and when she handed it to you, you turned your gaze to the photograph.

It was a few months ago, you and Natalie went out drinking with some friends, until it got too cold to be outside. Someone decided to take one last photo as a souvenir of that afternoon, which had been so much fun. It was the only photo you didn't return to her parents.

"We were friends." You muttered before turning back to the living room, intending to put your clothes on the heater.

"Has anyone come to talk to you about the investigation?" She insisted as she followed you.

You busied your hands with the snow on the clothes while Jane stood behind the kitchen counter, arms crossed, waiting for her response.

"No, Miss Banner." You muttered.

"If you two were friends, Ben should have told me..."

"Well you are here now, Miss Banner." You interrupt impatiently, the clothes properly spread out on the heater, and you turn to her with a serious expression. "Ask what you want to know."

"Where were you that night?"

You let out a short laugh.

"Here."

"Is there anyone who can confirm this?"

You ignore the growing irritation that is building in your chest.

"What are you implying, agent?"

Jane almost hesitates, and you want to roll your eyes at the way her fingers tremble slightly toward the holster at her waist.

"Nothing Miss Y/L/N." She answers. "I'm just trying to figure out what happened here."

"My best friend was murdered, Miss Banner. That's what happened." You retort through gritted teeth, and you stare at each other for long seconds in silence, before she sighs.

"I didn't mean to..."

"It doesn't matter." You interrupt. "The blizzard will last a few more hours, but we don't need to talk to each other. I have books, and you have your phone." You declare before walking past her, heading back into the living room.

Jane rubs her temples with her fingers for a moment, mentally cursing herself for having offended you, before following you back into the room.

It will be a long afternoon.

//-//-//-//

You and Jane managed to remain silent for forty-eight minutes.

You expected the cold to subside and the blizzard to pass soon for her to go away, but that's not what happened.

You know that Jane also noticed the increase in the wind outside, from the way the windows started to shake and you had to get up to put on the protection and keep the glass from breaking.

You didn't look at her when you went back to your chair, pretending to be focused on the words when your attention really was on the way Jane was hugging herself with her arms, a thick blanket wrapped around her as she remained seated on the carpet, facing the fire.

"Do you want another blanket?" You grunted grudgingly, not taking your eyes off the pages.

"How are you not cold?" She responded with another question, looking impressed.

"I am cold Miss Banner, I'm just used to the feeling." You clarify, and finally look at her. "So, you want another blanket or not?"

She gives you a humorless laugh.

"I don't think the blankets will serve any good." She retorts. "They don't seem to be helping at all."

You roll your eyes slightly, closing the book. Your gaze studies her for a moment, and then you let out a breath.

"Please tell me your socks are dry."

She blinks in confusion, looking at you and then at her boots before turning back to you.

"No?"

"Unbelievable." You grumble getting up.

You leave your book on the table and go out to your room, Jane frowns in confusion and stays that way until you come back, socks and slippers in hand.

You kneel in front of her, placing the options beside your feet, while your hands rest on your thighs.

"If you don't warm your feet, the rest won't do." You explain and nod to the boots. Jane blinks in surprise before starting to take off her shoes. "How did you get your feet wet like that anyway?"

"There was a puddle of ice at the entrance." She grunted in embarrassment.

"Oh, it's for the foxes." You comment and noticing her confused expression, you rush to clarify. "They walk through the snow, and sometimes they can't find water. I made a little lake at the entrance, but I had some problems keeping it unfrozen."

"That's…sweet." She comments, imagining you taking care of a little fox. You feel your cheeks flush at the sudden compliment, and you quickly look away.

With her wet boots and socks on the floor, you hand the other pieces to Jane before picking up the ones she's taken off and standing up.

"Thanks." She says as soon as you turn around and you resist the urge to look at her before you go and put her clothes to dry.

When you come back, she's wearing your slippers, and she looks lovely, making you smile.

"What's it?" she asks as soon as she notices your expression. You shrug, leaning over to check if the fireplace needs more firewood.

"It's nothing, miss." You retort but you can't resist. "I just thought it's not that intimidating an FBI agent in sponge bob slippers."

Jane laughed. It was quick and adorable, and it made your stomach churn with nervousness. You looked away from the fireplace to her.

"You should feel warm in a few minutes." You say. "Keep your feet close to the fire."

"Okay."

You returned to your seat in the armchair, but this time, there was a pleasant silence between you two, the tension from before completely gone.

It only took a few minutes for Jane to let out a satisfied sigh, finally warmed up.

"Damn, this is so much better." She comments with the blanket around her, and you smile at her beyond the book.

"If you want, there's still some chocolate."

As she gets up to the kitchen, she notices other photographs, and you understand that's why she's next asking "How long have you been a ranger?"

"Four years." You respond by settling yourself better in your chair. You have a vision of Jane in the kitchen, reaching for some chocolate and using the mugs from before. "What about you? How long have you worked at the FBI?"

She bites her lip thoughtfully.

"It was three years last month." She comments when she finishes pouring the drink. You notice she got a mug for you too. "Most agents get an important promotion. I got paperwork in Las Vegas."

You frown slightly, surprised by Jane's bitter tone. She walks back into the living room and hands you one of the mugs before taking a seat on the sofa.

"What's wrong with Vegas?"

She sighs.

"Not exactly what you expect when you become a special agent."

"What? rich people using too much narcotics isn't the thrill you wanted, Miss Banner?" You joke ironically making her smile.

You guys take a sip of your drinks, Jane caressed the handle of the mug for a moment before speaking again.

"I was looking for something different when I joined the FBI." She counts. "And I ended up being put to work with musicians using marijuana in the beach area."

"What were you looking for?"

She shrugs softly, looking thoughtful.

"I wanted to help people." She declared. "But really help them. Not like the local police, always limited. No, I wanted the FBI. The possibility of getting to the root of the problem."

"Do you think you'll find the root of anything in Wind River?"

Jane is surprised by your question, but you just look at her without hesitation.

"I'd like to." She says. "But it's hard without cooperation."

You take a sip of her chocolate before placing the mug on the table.

"You're not the first person to come here and make promises, Jane Banner." You informed her. "And it sure won't be the last."

"That might be true." She retorts. "But I can be the first to keep my word."

You look at her for a moment before getting up. She looks at you curiously, but you leave the room, only to return a moment later, a small box in your hands.

You sit next to Jane on the couch.

"That's all I have on Natalie." You say as you push the box onto the agent's lap beside you. "Maybe something here will help you."

Jane looks at the object in surprise, opening the box and analyzing everything in it.

"I returned almost every photo I had of her to her parents." You say with a certain nostalgia in your voice, remembering how emotional the whole day was. "But I wanted to keep some things with me."

There were friendship necklaces and bracelets, drawings, lighters, guitar picks, flowers. Several pieces of memories of your friendship.

There was also a photograph that caught Jane's attention.

"Who are these?" She asked, holding the small photo in her fingers.

"The oil boys." You replied almost annoyed. "All idiots if you ask me. But Natalie fell in love with that one here." You said as you signaled at the photograph, which was one of the only records you had of the boys, being taken by Nat herself on the day she first visited the oil company with you and the other girls. "At least Matt was the less of a jerk of them."

Jane smiled at the comment, but her expression faltered afterward.

"Where is Matt?"

You shrug.

"At the oil drilling site, I think. He works there with the rest of the guys." You count. "I actually haven't seen any of them since she died."

Jane blinks in surprise.

"Yeah? And where is that?"

"Not far." You say. "When the blizzard passes, maybe Ben will take you."

Jane is thoughtful, and you look at the box once before she's asking again.

"Can I try using your phone?"

"Of course, Jane."

It's the first time you've only called her only for her first name, and you're distracted by the box to notice. Jane almost forgets that she was going to get up to try to call the local police chief, but she ignores the way your soft gaze made her cheeks heat up to move.

The blizzard lessened, and the phone started working again, albeit precariously.

As Jane struggles to be understood by Ben amid the screeching noises of the phone call, you close the box and place it on the living room table, getting up to remove her clothes from the heater, figuring Jane should leave soon now that the snow is less aggressive.

And a few more minutes later, she's actually leaving.

"We're going there right now." She counts. "Ben will get more guys to join us."

"Right." You say, scratching your neck awkwardly. "Are you already leaving?"

"Why are you wanting me to stay?" She plays with a smile and you chuckle shyly, surprised at the flirtation.

"It's just that your clothes haven't dried yet." You say and she looks behind you at the heater with a disappointed grimace.

"B-but you can keep those. Then come back here when you’re done in the fields.”

Jane smiles, nodding in agreement. The two of you awkwardly stand for a moment in the room, before she clears her throat.

"Well I better be going then." She says advancing towards the door. "Thanks for, well, everything."

"Don't mention it." You say when accompanying her. "Watch out for the puddle at the entrance."

"Yeah, I'll remember that." She jokes and you laugh before grabbing one of the bigger coats you've been hanging and handing it to her, only to receive a surprised expression. "I'm already wearing a lot of your clothes, I don't want to overdo it."

You laugh, coming over to throw your coat over her shoulders.

"I really don't mind." You guarantee, watching her put your coat correctly. "I won't let you freeze to death in the snow, miss."

"Alright, alright." She grumbles, her cheeks flushed. "See you later?"

"Yes, Jane."

She ignores how much she likes to hear you calling her by her first name to turn for the exit.

It's very cold, but the blizzard has completely stopped. You wait until Jane reaches the car and starts to get back inside, surprised at how immediately you miss her company when you see the empty room.

Pushing the thoughts away, you start arranging the blankets that were left in the room, and the mugs too.

//-//-//-//

Jane doesn't come back.

Not for the next few hours, or for the next three days.

You'd like to say you didn't care, but you did.

Until Ben was calling you.

"Sorry I didn't give you any news before, girl." He spoke over the line. "We solved the entire investigation on Tuesday. I'll explain everything to you, come meet me in town?"

It was going to snow again, but you drove anyway. In the worst case, you would be stuck in the city hotel until you were able to climb the mountain again.

The police station seemed to be in a mood of palpable grief.

You were surprised to find so much movement in the morgue area, but you didn't ask.

Ben was already waiting for you at the front desk, and you resisted the urge to ask about Jane the moment you greeted him.

"I have a lot to talk to you about." He stated before he signaled down the corridor to the interrogation rooms. You frowned, but went with him.

"Is this about Natalie?" You asked as you entered, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

"Yea." he said, looking tired. You noticed he was limping slightly too.

"Are you okay, Ben?" You ask. "You look wounded."

"Well, I got shot."

"Ben?"

He quickly gestures that it's okay as he see you ready to get up and you look at him with concern.

"It was the security guards from the oil company." He counts. "Must have been the biggest action I've had here in ten years."

"You sure haven't been doing that much of field work then." You retort provocatively, making him laugh before he takes the chair across from you. His expression becomes more serious, and he takes a deep breath.

"Matt Rayburn is dead."

"He was murdered the same night as Natalie, by his colleagues." He continues and you let out a surprised sigh. "He tried to protect her, and he was beaten to death. She ran away, but she didn't survive the cold. And well, you've seen the rest."

Your eyes fill with tears, but you don't let them fall, feeling the anger quickly replace the grief.

"Where are the oil boys?"

"Dead." He answers. "They attacked our team as soon as we started asking questions, everything quickly turned into a hail of bullets."

You frown immediately. "Did either of you get hurt?"

"Oh yeah." He says sadly. "Lost Jake and Louis, plus we have three more agents injured."

"What about Jan-Miss Banner?" You asked, correcting yourself in mid-sentence, but it was enough for Ben to raise his eyebrows slightly, surprised by the question.

"She's in the municipal hospital." He counts and you feel your heart race. "She was shot in the chest, but she'll be fine. I think Cory went to visit her, you should do the same."

"I will."

Ben smiles in surprise.

"I didn't know you two were friends."

"I didn't say that."

Ben laughs at your defensive grimace. "You're not exactly known for visiting outsiders at the hospital, that's for sure."

"Are you saying I'm not a friendly person, Ben?" You return it in the same tone, and he laughs.

"Friendly? You are more bitter than Sui's coffee!" He teases by making you lift your middle finger towards him.

You know Ben is trying to make you laugh because of the weight of the statements he made a few moments ago, and you're grateful for that.

Sighing lightly, you both get up.

"Thanks for telling me the truth, I wouldn't expect anyone else to have the guts to do it."

Ben squeezed her shoulder lightly.

"I know how important she was to you." He says. "And I'm sorry."

"Thanks ben."

"Now go visit your girlfriend."

"Fuck off, old man."

He just laughs before you leave the room.

The hospital was almost forty minutes away, so you went back to your car.

It would snow again soon, so you'd better hurry.

When you finally arrived, after parking the car, and giving your name at the front desk to a nurse who didn't seem too willing to let you in, you finally made it to Jane's room door.

"Good afternoon, Cory." You greeted the man sitting in the chair in the hallway by the door. He looked surprised to see you out of the mountains, and honestly, you could say the same about him. "How are you doing?"

"It's good to see you, Y/n. I'm doing well." He says getting up. "What about you?"

You shrug, and he understands.

“Are you here to see Jane, I presume.”

“Yeah.” You say. “Is she okay?”

"She had surgery, but she'll be fine." He responds by looking momentarily at the door before turning back to you. "She will be happy to see you."

You shift your weight between your feet, frowning slightly.

"She…she mention me?"

"She complained about a grumpy girl at the market." He counts with a smile. "And then she was wearing a ranger coat. It wasn't hard to put it together."

You feel your face heat up.

"We didn't... that's not what...."

Cory laughed at your embarrassment, gesturing slightly.

"It's not my problem." He interrupts you by gently pushing you towards the door. "C'mon, go talk to her."

"What about you?"

"I need to visit Natalie's parents." He says. "I will be back later."

Jane was asleep when you entered.

It was definitely weird to see her hurt. It made you feel helpless. But knowing she would be okay was enough to relax you for now.

You closed the door gently behind you, and looked around.

The room was simple, and you noticed that there were some flowers just like Cory's garden in the window. He was getting soft.

You didn't want to wake her up, so you went to sit in one of the armchairs and wait.

When you did however, you ended up sitting on something, and when you moved to find a stuffed alligator you couldn't help but laugh softly.

The sound was enough to wake the woman in the bed beside you.

"Hey." Jane called out to you softly, making you look up at her quickly.

"H-hey. Sorry I didn't meant to wake you up." You say getting up to stand beside the bed.

Jane looks at you with tired eyes, most likely from all the events, but her gaze is gentle.

"One gunshot is all it takes to get you off that mountain, huh?" She jokes making you let out a nasal laugh.

"Actually I just came here to get my coat back, I've been needing it in the snow." You retort with false seriousness, making her smile.

"If you don't mind the bullet mark, you can take it."

You laugh softly, watching her. She seems to be healing from her wounds very well, the cut on her forehead is already practically closed. You bit your lip before asking.

"How are you?"

Jane sighs softly.

“Sore.”

"Beyond the physical, Jane."

She looks away, a sigh slipping out.

"Tired." She says and you nod gently. "Did you hear about what happened?"

“I did.”

She looks at you again, and you notice the tears in her eyes.

“I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” You say as you managed to give her a sad smile despite the way your heart aches at the thought of Natalie.

"But this is past. She wasn't the first, and she won't be the last."

Jane frowns slightly.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's the truth." You answer, and then sigh lightly. "Do you know about Cory's daughter?"

Jane nods in agreement.

"She was Natalie's best friend." You count. "When Emily died, things changed between us. I was…attached." You say, letting out a humorless laugh. "It wasn't Natalie's fault she couldn't feel the same way."

Jane blinked slightly, understanding. You continued.

"We've started fighting a lot in the last few months." You say. "Because of Matt. I told her he wasn't good for her, and that he was just as idiot as the boys that worked with him. I was driving us to my place, but we kept arguing, and she told me to drop her off at Matt." You declare with emotion, twisting your fingers nervously. "I was so jealous and so angry that instead of apologizing, I did as she told."

"You were her ride." Jane sighs in surprise, all the pieces of the story coming together.

You swallow the urge to cry.

"If I knew they would do this to her..."

"You couldn't have known." Jane interrupts reaching for your hand on the bed. "It was not your fault."

"I drove my best friend to her killers, Jane." You retort bitterly, letting the tears flow. "It's nobody's fault but mine."

Jane shook her head, squeezing your hand.

"This is not true." She says. "It's the killers' fault, and theirs alone. Please, you can't blame yourself for this. You didn't know."

You take a deep breath, controlling your crying. Jane settles down on the bed, her free hand reaching your face as she gently wipes your tears away.

"You kept your promise." You sigh then, looking at her. "The investigation is over."

"You helped me." She retorted. "Without your help, they might never be punished. You brought justice for what was done to your friend."

You sobbed, and Jane pulled you to her. You rested your face against her collarbone, crying softly as she massaged your back.

"Thank you, Jane." You whispered before pulling away a few minutes later, wiping your face on your sleeve as she looked at you tenderly.

"Any time."

Only now did you notice that she kept your hands together, and your gaze immediately dropped to it.

Jane smiled shyly when she noticed you looking, and intertwined them completely, making you blush.

"When I get out of here..." She starts off uncertainty, and you look at her. "You, I don't know, would you like to do something?"

You smile, stroking her hand gently.

"We don't have a lot of entertainment options here in Wind River, Jane." You comment. "But I get the impression you like hot chocolate."

She chucked softly, nodding.

"Hot chocolate with you sounds amazing."

"Agreed then."

The two of you exchange shy giggles, and you're silent a moment longer before you tell her you should leave, your shifts just went back to normal that week.

"Will you come back?"

"I was thinking of stopping by my house to get your clothes. They're dry now." You comment with a smile, Jane bites her lip.

"Or maybe you can leave them there. So I have something to wear when I come to see you."

You felt your face heat up, but you managed to respond.

"You could also wear nothing when you're there."

You can feel the new tension in the air, but all Jane did was glance to your mouth, her eyes darkening.

"Wouldn't I be cold?" She asks in a whisper.

"I'll keep you warm."

You saw the ghost of her smile before she broke the distance, her lips meeting your in a sweet but firm kiss.

You let your tongue slide across her lower lip, begging for passage, as your free hand landed on her neck, and you both sighed at the new sensation as Jane slid her tongue against yours.

But the kiss didn't last long, because Jane let out a low moan of mixed pain and pleasure, and you pulled away, understanding that she was still in the process of recovering.

You smiled in embarrassment at the look she gave you as she pursued your mouth, her free hand twisting the fabric of your shirt to keep you in place.

"Easy tiger." You warned her in an affected voice. "You are still healing."

"I think you should kiss me to make it better."

You laugh, but obey, kissing her very gently this time. In Jane's opinion, too quickly as well.

Then you pull away completely, and she grumbles softly when she sees you standing up.

"I'll be back tomorrow." You say with a smile, fixing the crumpled part she did to your blouse.

"I'll be waiting." She comments with a mischievous look, causing you to smile awkwardly before bringing your faces together again.

Your intention was for a quick kiss, but she slid her tongue against yours and made you gasp. You used all your willpower to pull away.

"See you, Jane Banner." You said a breathless goodbye, hurrying to leave before she succeeded in getting you to skip your shift time.

//-//-//-//

Over the next few days, you visited Jane Banner three times.

With your work on schedule again, you didn't have time to get back to the forest station without being late if you made your way down the mountain to town, but Jane understood.

Cory also kept her company.

When she was finally discharged, it snowed.

So hard that your only option was to sit inside grumpy like a child, complaining to the walls about how unfair it was that there was a blizzard on the day the girl you liked was free from the hospital.

Then to say you were glad to see her on your doorstep was an understatement.

But happiness was replaced by worry as you remembered she had just come out of the hospital, muttering about driving to see you but barely making it through the snow as you pulled her away from the cold.

"Jane, you've lost your mind." You complained rushing to get the excess snow off her clothes, seeing her shiver as she looked at you with her face flushed. "Driving up here in the middle of a blizzard just after being shot. Crazy woman."

As you helped her remove her wet coat, she just chuckled softly at your comments, following your movements.

"I am cold." She stated, looking at your mouth while her coat fell to the floor, but you were too distracted while kneeling to unlace her boots.

"Of course you're cold! Did you see outside? So irresponsible." You kept complaining until you finished. When she stepped out of her shoes, you looked up, meeting her almost embarrassed gaze, and only then did you become aware that you were on your knees in front of her.

"Will you keep your promise?" She asks in a whisper. You swallow dry.

"What promise?"

"To keep me warm."

You let out the breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"I will."

Jane bit her lower lip, and you lifted your hands up her legs, caressing her to the fullest extent, making her shiver in anticipation as she watched.

Your hands slowly crept up to her belt clasp, and you exchanged a confirming look with her before opening it.

You could hear your unbalanced heartbeats in your ears, but you unzipped anyway.

Jane remained still, breathing shallowly as she watched you slowly lower her pants to the floor until you removed them completely, and she stepped to the side for you to toss the garment over her coat.

You turned your attention to her exposed legs again, resting your hands on the backs of her thighs, gently pulling her forward to kiss her skin at the same height.

She sighs at the contact of your lips on her skin, and you start to lift the kisses, making sure to maintain eye contact with her dilated pupils, accompanied by her flushed cheeks.

When you licked her inner thigh, she moaned hoarsely, her hand inching into your hair, a gentle but firm grip.

"Don't tease." She asked through her teeth, her breathing quickened. You gave her an innocent smile.

"I'm already on my knees for you, miss."

"And what a vision you are." She retorts in the same tone, releasing your hair to unbutton her own blouse, her gaze on you the entire time.

But you decided to continue your original idea, and reached up to her panties, reaching at the sides and pulling the item down.

With the garment off, you had a view of Jane's exposed and visibly wet intimacy, and you sighed, feeling your own pussy begin to tingle.

You turned your gaze to her, bracing your hands on the back of her thighs, waiting for confirmation.

Jane removed the shirt completely, tossing it to the floor, before working on her bra. You thought every second was being too long, and moved your face closer to her cunt, kissing her lightly and smiling at the way Jane let out a breathless moan, struggling to remove her bra.

But your smile turned to a groan as she finished removing her bra and grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling hard to make you look at her.

"Don't bite." She commands before forcing your face against her cunt, and you both moan at the contact.

Your tongue slides between her folds, and you delight in her taste, and the way she was wet and hot. Your hands firm on her thighs, and her hand in your hair as Jane lets out breathless moans as she feels all the pleasure you give her.

"That's it darling…keep going…" She guides between her whimpers, your mouth devouring her with adoration. She tastes like heaven, but she's hot as hell. "Oh... fuck....right there."

The sounds were working for you too, your pussy was soaking wet in your pants, and you pressed your thighs together as you sucked on Jane's clit and she forced your face forward in a reflex to prolong the sensation.

You suck, and take your tongue as far as it will go, making sure to press your nose against her clitoris. Her taste and smell intoxicate you in the best possible way, and the sounds she is making are almost enough to drive you over the edge.

Jane begins to shiver and whimper when she''s close, the grip on your hair tightening, encouraging you to keep fucking her relentlessly.

"Don't stop...my god...." She gasps with no ability to maintain a coherent sentence, your hot mouth driving her insane.

You feel the way she throbs on your tongue, her walls tightening around you, and you keep up your pace, until she cums.

Jane climaxes with a high, throaty moan, throwing her head back as her whole body trembles in spasms and you hold her firmly by the thighs, ready to keep her from falling to the floor as you watch her try to normalize her breathing, your mouth still on her intimacy, licking gently at her clit, until she whimpers from the overstimulation and pulls you nicely by the hair to stop you.

"Come here." She commands in a husky voice and you sigh as you take your hands off her thighs, rushing to be on your feet. She releases the hair grip to cup your face with her hand, bringing your lips together in a passionate, fervent kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth eagerly and making your head spin.

Your hands land on her waist, and as they start to go up, she gasps, breaking the kiss as she feels your palms against her breasts. You move forward to join your lips together again, but she squeezes your throat gently, making you grunt horny.

"I want your mouth." She warns as she uses her free hand to pull your hand away from her breast, using the hand on your neck to grab your hair again and pull your face towards her breast. "That you can bite."

You smile against her nipple, using your mouth to stimulate. Jane closes her eyes, giving in to the feeling of having you sucking and biting her nipples as you move your hands down to her ass, squeezing the flesh and pushing her hips against you, making you both moan at the contact.

It wasn't long before she was ready for another, her hips pushing against yours more frantically.

You cupped her nipple hard, and sucked, releasing the skin after you were sure it would mark, causing her to moan loudly.

But you could feel your edge reaching out to you, after you had tasted her, it wasn't going to take much for you to cum, and you wanted to do it on top of her.

So you reached up to her hair, tugging gently as your mouth moved against her collarbone, the change in dominance made Jane gasp in surprise.

You licked all the way from her neck to her ear, whispering "Bedroom, now." before biting her earlobe.

Jane brought your mouths together again, and the kiss broke into gasping moans many times around the hallway, until you stumbled into the bedroom, and you fell on top of her on the bed.

"You're wearing too many clothes." She comments breathlessly once your kisses have moved down again, making you smile against the skin of her neck.

You pulled away then, ignoring the dissatisfied grunt she made at the loss of contact, to remove your clothes quickly.

Jane bit her lip at the sight of you naked, but you didn't give her time to absorb anything, rejoining your mouths as she pulled you into her lap by the waist.

You thought you were boiling from the inside out, the feel of Jane's pussy against yours was utterly maddening.

Your tongues luff together as you thrust your hips forward, the friction making you both moan into the kiss.

You needed control not to completely give in to the sensation as you pushed Jane with one hand back onto the bed and sat up against her warm center.

She looked at you with some curiosity beyond the lust, breathing out of rhythm through her mouth as you bent slightly to reach the head of the bed. Your toy was there, a double dildo.

"You trust me?" You ask as you lift the object into her field of vision, seeing Jane's eyes widen slightly. You waited, and then she finally nodded.

You pulled away only to fit the dildo between you two, Jane holding her breath in anticipation. You penetrated her first, not having a hard time with the way she was soaking wet and the plastic penis easily slid inside, and she threw her head back on the pillow, moaning at the sensation of being bottom up.

You fit the other end to your entrance, settling into her lap before lowering your hips against Jane, gasping at the feel of the dildo sliding between your walls, your pussy throbbing against the plastic.

You rest your hands on Jane's waist as she gazes at you adoringly.

"You feel good?" You asked breathlessly, using all your control not to move.

“Yes.”

“You like this?” You sigh as you force your hips forward, the movement makes you see stars, but it's Jane's hoarse whimper that's taking you over the edge.

"More." She asks, putting her hands on your thighs, trying to pull you forward.

You follow her request, swaying against her lap and feeling the dildo inside your pussy, the sensation of pleasure so absolute you can't keep your eyes open.

You dig your nails into Jane's stomach, tilting your ass to ride the dildo, and the whole movement makes her moan loudly, whimpering at the feel of the plastic penis inside her.

It doesn't take long for you to find a rhythm, your hips forcing against each other in sync, the dildo inside your cunts making you both whimper with pleasure, until it becomes too much, and you feel the hot grip at the tip of your belly close to explode.

"J-Jane... I'm..." You gasp loudly, keeping your rhythm, your pussy twitching and clenching against the plastic.

"Fuck...Me too.... don't stop..."

You came together, in a loud moan, as you arched your back and Jane sank her nails into your thigh.

You collapsed on top of her, sinking against her body, as you both tried to normalize your breathing.

Sighing softly, you moved to remove the dildo from inside you two, now completely soaked with your juices, and toss it onto the mattress as you returned to Jane's embrace.

Humming sweetly, she traced your back with her hand as you rested your arm at the height of her breasts.

"Is that enough to keep you warm?" you tease, making her laugh lightly as she looks up at you with lazy eyes after cumming twice.

You let your gaze wander, and frown slightly when you notice the mark a little below her neck.

"Is this where...?" You begin as you trace with your finger, and don't need to conclude for Jane to confirm. You look away from the bullet scar to her. "Are you sure you could have put in physical effort after that?"

Jane smiled mischievously.

"Absolutely not." She replies, making you look at her with fake annoyance, which causes her to laugh lightly. "But it was worth it."

"Yeah?"

You ask with your tongue between your teeth, and she murmurs yes as she moves closer, kissing you tenderly.

It is gentler, but it is even more intimate than any kiss you two have ever shared.

Jane puts her hand on your waist, and you rest your chin against the arm above her chest.

You stare at each other in silence for a few moments, but she can tell that you are pensive.

"What is it?" she asks gently, her fingers again caressing your back. You sigh.

"I was thinking about you." You confess making her raise her eyebrow in amusement, but the expression fades as you continue to speak. "About the time you’ll leave."

"Do you want me to leave?"

You sigh, shaking your head. "It doesn't matter what I want, Jane."

She frowns slightly.

"That's not true."

You pull away to lie on the mattress, your back on the comforter and your gaze on the ceiling.

"I'm going to miss you when you go back to Las Vegas."

Jane is silent for a moment, and then she is moving to look at you, still lying in bed.

"What if I stayed?"

You turn your head to her with an incredulous expression. Jane doesn't hesitate.

"I mean it." She says and you sigh.

"Outsiders always leave." You repeat the mantra you have learned and ignore the way Jane frowns, moving away. You grab your shirt from the floor as you look forward, sitting up in bed.

"We're a one-night-only thing, then?" She asks almost angrily, sitting up properly on the bed like you. You sigh.

"I'm not the one leaving."

"I'm not leaving!" She retorts and you turn to her.

"Of course you are!" You insist impatiently. "Or do you plan on living in the city hotel for years to come? I don't know how much the FBI is paying, but I bet not that much."

Jane sighs irritably, rolling her eyes as she looks away. You're right.

"This was fun, but we need to be realistic." You continued to get up. "You're going to finish the reports and leave. That's it, we don't need to make this big."

"I'm in love with you."

You freeze.

And when you look at her with wide eyes a moment later, Jane is rubbing her temples lightly.

"W-what?"

She sighs before looking at you.

"I am..."

"Don't." You interrupt, your voice hoarse with emotion, feeling your eyes fill with water. Jane blinks in surprise.

"What?" She asks confused. "Why can't I say? It's the truth. I'm-"

"Stop it!" You cut it again. "I want you to leave."

"What are you talking about?"

"Go away." You repeat in earnest, ignoring the way your heart is pounding and you want to cry.

Jane looks at you with hurt, then lets out an incredulous laugh, getting up to leave the room.

You took a deep breath to keep the tears away, waiting long minutes to follow her.

When you arrived in the living room, Jane had all her clothes on, and your first action was to look out the window to see the current blizzard situation, but it was over. Just like your story with her.

Jane hesitated as she opened the door, looking back to find you with your arms crossed, an unreadable expression on your face.

“Is this really goodbye?” she asks with tears in her eyes. You hold hers, lifting your chin.

"Have a nice life, Jane Banner."

Her lip trembles from crying, but she just nods and turns away, closing the door.

When she's gone, you collapse in sobs against the wall.

//-//-//

The next few days are not good for you.

You barely eat, your appetite has gradually disappeared due to the emotional distress, and it is so cold that you don't feel like getting out of bed.

However, you find yourself being forced into town when your coffee runs out, and mentally cursing, you put on your winter clothes, and go after your keys.

You choke lightly when your gaze finds the changes of Jane's clothes that you had left unpacked on the couch to return to her, and ignoring the urge to cry, you take the items and the key from the countertop, deciding to get her address to mail the clothes to.

It wasn't snowing that heavily, but you keep your eyes on the road. A few minutes later you reach the town and decide to stop at the police station before going to the market.

You are very frustrated to learn that Siu cannot give you the personal address of a federal agent.

"I'm sorry, but I don't even have access to that kind of information." She informs you in a low tone, looking at you curiously. "What do you want with this anyway?"

"She left some clothes at home, I wanted to mail it." You say and regret your choice of words immeditately as you see Siu's expression change.

"I knew it!" She exclaims mischievously. "I said it was weird that she always asks about you. Since when are you two sleeping together?"

You sigh.

"We're not." You say. "Well, we did. Once. Twice. B-but that's not important. We're not together. Are you sure you can't get her address?"

"I really wish I could help you, but I can't. I'm sorry."

“It’s okay Siu, thank you anyways.”

On the way out however, you bump into Cory leaving his truck by the grocery store.

"Hey Lambert!" You call him as you approach. "Any chance you have Jane Banner's address?"

Cory looks at you with a mixture of surprise and concern.

"Thought you would know that."

You sigh looking away.

"We're not together, Cory."

"And why do you need the address?"

"I'll return her clothes."

Cory raises an eyebrow at you, but you roll your eyes impatiently.

"So, you know?"

"I knew the old one."

You frown, confused and Cory clarifies:

"You know she's moving, don't you?"

"What?"

He gives a short laugh, waving for you to follow him toward the grocery store.

"Jane talked to her superiors while she was in the hospital." He counters as you walk into the store. "I think she wanted the Wyoming region to be her area of operation. And well, nobody wants this place, so her boss made no objection to her transfer."

You widen your eyes at the whole story, but occupy your hands with the groceries that Cory points you to pick up from the shelves.

"She got a place in Thermopolis, decent price, and I think her apartment in Vegas will cover everything."

You are really shocked. And Cory clears his throat.

"You know, she's a good person." He comments. "I'd be happy if things worked out between you two.”

You look away to the floor, upset.

"Don't even go there, buddy." You asked. "We would never work out. It was special, but it's like they say, outsiders always leave."

Cory laughed at your sentence, stopping walking.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

You made a bothered expression and Cory rolled his eyes.

"Kid, when people say that around here, they are referring to tourists and land explorers." He retorts, and then his expression softens. "You know, not everyone who isn't a native goes away. Not everyone is like your father."

You feel your cheeks heat up, and you look away quickly, busying yourself with grabbing a packet of coffee from the shelves.

Cory sighs, straightening his posture as he looks at you.

"I'm sorry." He says. "It was insensitive to say it that way."

"It's okay, you're right." You say upset, controlling yourself not to cry. "My father abandoned me here without looking back and now I don't trust anyone. You can start acting as the town therapist now, Doctor Lambert!" You tease armagely before throwing the coffee into the little basket he carries and turning to leave.

Cory calls you a few times but you don't come back.

You sit in your car, trying to control the mixture of anger and hurt that takes over your chest, and you must have done this for long minutes because Cory comes out of the grocery store with the bags and knocks on the window in your car, waiting for you to roll down the window to hand you the coffee.

"The address is on the receipt." He says as soon as you put the bag on the seat. "Some of the outsiders stayed here, kid. I stayed, and so did you."

He states with an earnestness before walking away. You think about his words for long moments before you decide to drive to Jane's house.

Nature, however, seems to have different plans.

It starts to snow heavily, and you are looking to stop on the road when you almost crash your car.

Cussing quietly, you realize that it is just another driver who had the same idea as you.

Squinting your eyes, you sigh in surprise when you realize that it is Jane's car.

You reach for the clothes in the back seat before you get out of the car, hugging your jacket because of the cold.

You tap the glass gently, startling her, but when she recognizes you, she quickly lowers the window.

"What are you doing here?" she questions confused.

"I could ask you the same thing." You return, ignoring the way your stomach flips with nervousness at seeing her again. Jane rolls her eyes.

"I was just going home." She replied.

"Well, I was going to return your clothes." You informed as you lifted the change to her and tossed it into the passenger seat through the window. "Good luck in Thermopolis, Janne Banner." You said before walking away and she blinked in confusion as she hurried to remove her seatbelt and get out of the car, the sound of the door opening making you stop walking and turn to her.

" You know I'm moving?" She asks in surprise.

"Yes, Cory told me."

She hesitates, opening and closing her mouth once before actually deciding to speak.

"It's close." She says. "Thermopolis, I say. It's close from here."

"I know."

Jane pulls a strand of hair out of her face, seeming to take courage.

"Does that change anything between us?"

You frown slightly, looking away and then back at her.

"No, Jane." You reply, and she looks down at the floor immediately. You sigh, taking a step forward. "But the fact that I am in love with you, does."

She raises her head quickly, surprised at the confession. You give her a shy smile.

"You living in Vegas, Seattle, or even on the moon makes no difference to me." You continue as you approach her with slow steps. "What matters is that I am in love with you. And I will stay in love with you even if you are on the other side of the country."

When you reach her, she lets out a relieved sigh, her eyes watering. You lift your hands to her face.

"I'm sorry I made you cry before." You whisper to her. "I shouldn't have told you to go when I wanted you to stay."

She smiles, letting the tears flow as she shakes her head slightly.

"It's okay." She whispers back, her hands coming up to rest in yours on her face. "Your hands are cold." She remarks in the same tone, and you giggle, but when you make mention of moving away, she guides them to her waist, on the inside of her coat.

"Leave them here, I'll keep it warm for you." She says making you smile with flushed cheeks, as she slips her arms around your neck.

"My lips are cold as well." You joke and she bites back a smile, resting her forehead against yours.

"Let me warm them up too." She says before breaking the distance.

From that day on, kissing Jane Banner in the snow became so comforting that it made you forget how cold it could be in Wind River.

//-//-//-//-//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight

#elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wind river #elizabeth olsen imagines #wanda maximoff x reader #smut #smut fics #switch!reader #jane banner x reader #jane banner #jane banner wind river #jane banner imagines #jane banner x yn #elizabeth olsen x yn #lizzie olsen #lizzie olsen x reader

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

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Sinners and Saints (Sihtric x reader)

Summary: One day you stumble upon your childhood friend, Osferth, whom you have not seen in years. Yet the more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself drawn to his companion, Sihtric….and the butterflies his dark eyes give you.

This is my contribution to @emilyhufflepufftlk 100 followers challenge! Congratulations again! I’m so happy for you!

My prompt was - "Love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints." - Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton (in bold within the story)

Words: 5500

Warnings: A couple of swear words, fluff, my poor attempts at humor, Osferth being a good bro.

Tag List: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @flowers-in-your-hayr

This gorgeous moodboard was made by @flowers-in-your-hayr. All credit goes to her!

"...so there she was, aye, and next thing I know, she flips 'er dress up and I see the most perfect set of…."

"I'm going to be sick." Osferth mumbled to himself, trying to block out Finan's retelling of his prior night. To the laughter of his companions, he started to push away from the outdoor table at the alehouse. He was no virgin anymore, Finan and Uhtred had seen to that, but he still felt squeamish when listening to their stories of recent conquests. His mother's voice whispered in the back of his mind, things she had told him before her passing, about respect and love. Plus, he could not help but think that this idea of conquests, of women's worth derived from what pleasure a man could take from their bodies, was what brought bastards into this world….like him.

"Alright, Finan, we get it. You saw the arse of a goat and couldn't help yourself." Uhtred teased, slinging an arm around Osferth so he could not escape them- most likely to find a church and pray for their souls.

"Oi, lord! Ya know that was one time!" Finan feigned mock-outrage, making Uhtred and Sihtric laugh.

Osferth put a hand over his eyes as if that would somehow block the image from his mind. Something he desperately did not want there.

"How much longer are we here, lord?" Sihtric asked, changing the subject, while twirling a dagger between his hands fluidly.

Although Osferth would never admit it aloud, and God forgive him, it was hard not to be jealous of how easily his companions handled their weapons like they had been born with weapons in hand. They continued to tell him it was practice. Recently though, he decided it was a gift that he clearly did not have.

"Until I feel satisfied with the training of Lord Godwin's fyrd and his defenses." Uhtred stated indifferently, as if it was something he had to repeat to himself often.

"Ya think King Alfred knew how much of a horse's arse Lord Godwin is?"

Uhtred glanced up, a tiny smirk on his lips. "Probably."

"But he knew you were the man for the job." Osferth commented. Not necessarily to defend his father but to hopefully bolster Uhtred's confidence. "The men respect you, even if their lord fails to acknowledge his own respect."

"The baby monk is right." Finan said. "What else needs to be done for the town?"

Uhtred and Finan began discussing ideas and strategies, Sihtric adding an occasional comment but mostly just listening.

Osferth found his attention wandering, since this was an area outside of his expertise. His gaze drifted to the town and its residents who moved about to complete their duties under the midday sun. Their group had only been in this large town for two days and already Osferth was keen to return to Coccham.

From amidst the crowd, a familiar face caught his attention. The world tilted off its axis as his entire body went rigid, all his focus zeroed in on her. His heart hammered in his chest and the air whooshed from his lungs painfully.

"Y/n?" He muttered to himself, disbelief and shock clearly painted in his tone and on his face.

"Baby monk, ya alright?"

Finan's words did even register, so consumed by the ghost before him. Rapidly, he slid off the bench, almost losing his footing when he went to stand, but pressed on, hurrying towards her.

"Y/n!" He called, an almost desperate tone in his yell.

When she did not turn around, he shouted louder. "Y/N!"

That time she paused, then slowly turned to find him standing still amongst those walking around him, a solid rock in a stream of people. He held his breath as he intently watched her expression, suddenly worried seeing him would not be as meaningful as he hoped. He could see her utter his name silently, eyes wide. Then in the next moment, she dropped the basket on her hip and ran towards him. He opened his arms just in time for her to collide with him, and with her embrace, a painful wave of nostalgia and guilt crashed over him with the strength of a tempest.

"It's really you." She finally whispered, peering at him in awe.

"Hi." He smiled, his own shock clouding his mind from forming coherent sentences.

Then to his surprise, she reared back and punched him in the arm.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He whined, rubbing the offended limb.

Throwing her hands in the air, they landed on her hips as her voice rose in anger. "For disappearing in the middle of the night without telling me!"

"I did tell you."

"That you were THINKING about leaving, not that you WERE leaving!" She reared back and punched him in the arm again, ignoring his pained cry as she continued to berate him. "I spent an entire day running around the monastery trying to find you only for Father Harold to finally pull me aside and tell me you left for Wincheaster."

And there was the heaping of guilt he knew he deserved. "I'm sorry….I just….I just knew if I didn't leave that night, then I never would."

Her face softened at his quiet admission, understanding passing in her eyes. "I know. I wasn't truly surprised…. Just wish you'd have told me before."

"I'm sorry."

She sighed, all anger and frustration disappearing, much to his relief. She was a force to be reckoned with when truly in her fury. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, traveled here with the Lord Uhtred to assist Lord Godwin in his defenses….or something."

"Uhtred? That Uhtred?"

He smiled at her, catching the reverence in her tone. "That very one."

"How did you find him? How did you join him? Wait! Are you a warrior now? We have a lot to talk about and you better get started." There went the hands on her hips again, making his smile widen at the image. Even as a young girl, when her hands were on her hips, you knew she meant business.

"Would you like to meet him first?"

A shy look passed over her face that he was unused to seeing. "I'm…. I'm not presentable to meet a lord."

He scanned her, noting the dried mud on the hem of her dress and shoes, the small smear of what looked like flour on her left temple. What he noticed most was how the years had made her even more beautiful. She had always been a pretty girl but now, she truly looked like a beautiful woman. A fact he was unsure of how to feel about.

He chuckled lightly after a moment. "Well, you certainly smell better than Lord Uhtred so I think it's fine."

That caused her to tip her head back and laugh loudly, the desired effect of his comment. She gathered up her basket and walked next to Osferth, back to the table where his companions were. It was impossible to ignore their curious stares as they approached.

"Lord Uhtred, may I introduce y/n. Y/n, this is Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg." Osferth said, standing next to her at the end of the table.

Uhtred nodded graciously, clearly wondering why this woman mattered and why Osferth was introducing her.

"Oh, it's an honor to meet you!" Y/n gushed, a bright smile on her face. "Uncle Leofric told us so much about you, but I never thought I'd ever meet you in person."

"Leofric?" That caught his lord's attention, his gaze narrowing and eyeing her with renewed interest. "How did you know that turd?"

"When he came to visit Osferth, he'd tell us stories."

"Ah….all exaggerated, of course." Uhtred said with a cocky smirk.

"Wait. I think we're missin' the most important thing here." Finan leaned forward, dark eyes bouncing between Osferth and her, as he pointed a finger at them, hand still wrapped around his cup. "Ya said 'Uncle Leofric'....are ya related to Osferth?"

Osferth answered quickly. "No, her family owned the farm next to the monastery, so we grew up together." Then he furrowed his brows as a thought hit him. He had been so amazed to see his childhood best friend (only friend really) that he had not realized that she should be back at the farm and not in this town. "Wait, y/n, why are you here and not at the farm?"

Her face crumpled for a brief second before she was able to mask it into a neutral expression. She shrugged casually, but he could read the subtle tension in the action. "We lost the farm, so mother and I came here to look for work."

"Ah." There were so many things he wanted to ask but could tell now was not the right time. If she lived here, he would have plenty of time to hear the full story later. Instead he decided to change the subject. "So, you know Lord Uhtred, the others are Finan and Sihtric…. And Sihtric is also a bastard." He added as an afterthought.

That made her face light up as she turned to look at the Dane. "Hey, another bastard! We really need to start a club. We can all rant about how awful our fathers are."

"You're a bastard?" Uhtred asked, shock evident in his voice.

"Yes, my lord. My mother was a servant for a lord. Got pregnant. The lord's wife did not like that so sent my pregnant mother back to her family. Certainly, it was our Lord's Will because how else would I have been able to grow up with Osferth?" She asked, patting him on the cheek affectionately. He blushed and swatted her hand away, much to the other's amusement.

"I reckon you have quite a few amusin' stories of growin' up with Osferth, eh?" Finan smirked.

"I might….but I don't share secrets for free." She matched his smirk with her own crooked smile.

He slapped his hand on the table. "I'll owe ya a drink! I need to 'ear this."

"No….oh no, no, no." Osferth said but knew it was a lost cause before he even tried to deter them. The rest were already deciding when and where to meet that night. "Lord help me."

"It's not that bad." She teased, bumping his arm with hers. "The worst one is when we went streaking naked through the monastery."

Osferth felt his face heat up like the flames of hell itself as everyone laughed. "It was your idea."

"Yeah, yeah, so you like to remind me." She smiled fondly. "Now, if I don't get back home, my mother is going to think I've run off with some man or I've been kidnapped. Either way, she will raise the fyrd herself to find me. I will see you all tonight."

The others said their goodbyes but before she could step too far away, Osferth gently touched her arm, halting her movement.

"Y/n….I'm….I'm glad our paths have crossed once again."

She pulled him into a tight embrace. "I am too, Osferth. I've missed you." With that, she turned and walked away with her basket still on her hip; but not without glancing over her shoulder at the group before disappearing around some buildings.

Once out of sight, Osferth sighed and turned back to his companions, only to see them all still staring intently in the direction she disappeared.

"No….y/n is off-limits to you fornicators." He stated firmly, well as firmly as he could be.

"She's very pretty…." Uhtred declared, a playful grin on his face.

"Lord, no. All of you, keep your hands off of her."

"Or what?" Finan chuckled, eyes alight with mischief. "You'll fight us, baby monk?"

"I will if I must."

"Alright. Her dignity won't be tarnished." Uhtred lifted his cup in Osferth's direction. "Your reputation might be tonight depending on what stories she shares."

Osferth groaned, sitting back down next to his lord. "I'm going to need a lot of ale."

"That can certainly be arranged!" Finan laughed, jovial once more.

As discussion started back up again, they all missed the silent, longing glance Sihtric snuck one last time in the direction she walked away….

*****

Over the next several weeks Lord Uhtred helped increase the defenses of the town and instructed the guards and fyrd how to better defend against the Danes.

During those weeks, you found yourself frequently spending time with Osferth and his companions. First it started off with meeting them in the evenings for ale, laughter and good company. Within days, it became almost expected for one of them to purposefully seek you out. Most of the time it was Osferth and Sihtric coming to join you in whatever your tasks for the day because they were bored or unwanted in meetings. It was not difficult to tell that although they were certainly welcomed members of Uhtred's group, not everyone else saw them in such a positive light.

So the three of you often passed the hours away together, waiting until evening to rejoin Uhtred and Finan at the alehouse. Their presence became such a regular occurrence that your mother practically adopted them, they even had their assigned seats at your small kitchen table for meals. Somehow, they seamlessly slipped into your daily life in a way that seemed like they were meant to be there this whole time.

Even at the alehouse in the evenings, you usually found yourself nestled between Osferth and Sihtric on the bench. A place you certainly found yourself enjoying more and more….especially next to the Dane.

Over the weeks, there was something growing between you and the Dane. It gradually revealed itself with each passing day, growing like the roots of an oak tree. It was through the borderline flirtatious comments that you teased each other with. It was in the subtle touches that caused butterflies in your stomach to dance, from your fingers barely gracing each other when passing something, to the way you leaned your head on his shoulder when your eyelids threatened to close, to the way your thighs would touch under the table and away from view of the others. It was in the lingering looks when your gazes locked and you swore you never wanted to look away. It was in the consistency of being next to one another whenever you could, either sitting at a table or just walking down the street, almost like your bodies were magnetized to one another's.

Plus the more you talked to Sihtric, the more you desired to know about him. For he was like no other man you had ever met.

Almost a fortnight after you reunited with Osferth, there was one particular evening after staying out far too late with the four men and drinking a bit too much, Sihtric graciously offered to walk you back home. You knew propriety demanded Osferth should be the one to escort you but he was already passed out, head on the table and snores emitting from his mouth. Giggling at your childhood friend, you accepted Sihtric's offer and the two of you easily fell into step.

On the walk you learned more about his past, about going up in Dunholm and his cruel father. You had heard bits and pieces while with Osferth and the others. Maybe it was under the cover of darkness, maybe it was the extra ale flowing through both of your blood, but he confessed secrets to you he had never told another besides his mother. When you reached your home, before he could slip away, you clutched his arm and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. After, you bid him goodnight and slipped inside your humble home.

After that night, he always walked you home, sometimes alone and sometimes one of the others would join. But when it was just you two, when you were alone, you would bid him a goodnight with a kiss on the cheek or he would kiss your hand, locking eyes with you in a way that made a fire stir in your belly and your core clench.

There was definitely something between the two of you, but neither seemed able to verbalize it or take the next step.

*****

"So, what is going on between you and Cedric?"

You turned your head to look at Osferth, who laid on the grass next to you, soaking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. "What?"

"You know….that blacksmith. The one you were talking to the other day."

"Oh." The memory hit you. You had stopped by to drop off your mother's damaged cooking pot for Cedric to attempt in fixing, although you personally thought it was a helpless cause. The dent in it was significant, but he offered to see what he could do. As you dropped it off at his workshop, the two of you began discussing an approaching saint's day and the celebration that would occur with it.

Several minutes later, you heard your name called and looked over to see Osferth and Sihtric walking towards you. You bid Cedric a farewell, promising to stop by the next day to come pick up the pot. After receiving his promise to try his best at fixing it, you headed off towards the stables with your fellow bastards. At the time, you had not thought the encounter significant but with it happening two days ago and Osferth now bringing it up, you wondered how long he had been ruminating on it.

Finally, you simply said, "he's a good man, and has been kind to my mother and I since we arrived here."

"Is he….pursuing you?" Osferth turned his head to scrutinize you, his lips pursed slightly as if concerned about your answer.

You openly laughed at the notion. "No, that's silly. He is just a kind man."

If anything, you had to fend off flirtatious advancements from some of the young men that worked under Cedric. Those same young men quickly learned to keep their eyes on their work and mouths shut. When one openly called out to you, and before you could offer a sharp retort, Cedric threw a hammer at him from across the shop. He bellowed that he did not allow heathens to work for him and if they chose to act godless then they needed to find a new place of work. Their blatant interest diminished after that and Cedric made a point to be the only one that conversed with you if you came to the shop. Although he was easily ten years your senior, you found him a likeable man with a quick wit and sarcastic comments that occasionally left you in stitches.

The idea of him pursuing you was an amusing idea. He was still a bachelor, never having married, claiming that his work and apprentices kept him far too busy for much else.

Your answer appeared to satisfy Osferth. A thoughtful look crossed his face and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but immediately slowly closed it and turned his head back to stare at the blue sky.

A stillness settled after your answer, only interrupted by the frequent bird song and the wind through the tall grass. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sun's warmth and just lying around relaxing on the hill outside of the town, away from the hustle and bustle and chores that demanded your attention.

"He was watching you like a man who wants a woman." Sihtric stated after a couple minutes of peaceful silence.

Startled by his sour tone, you shifted up to look over at the Dane. He sat on the other side of Osferth, one leg propped up and an arm casually slung over it, but his gaze was focused straight ahead, staring off into the distance. Now that you thought about it, over the past two days Sihtric had become more reserved and sullen than you had ever seen. Even his companions commented on it a few times to which he would shrug his shoulders or make an excuse and walk away. You had thought he just missed Coccham, the group having been away for so long, or something happened that made him introspective. It had also not escaped your notice how the prior closeness between you two had halted. Now you wondered if there was something more to his demeanor.

"Well, that is most unfortunate for him since I am not interested in him."

"Does your mother not want you to marry?" Osferth asked, his voice deceptively neutral.

Sighing, you leaned back on your hands. Eventually you knew Osferth would bring up the topic, he was your friend after all and you were certainly of marriageable age. Actually far too old to not be married by some people's standards, but you ignored them. "She does but she has told me that she will not force it upon me. She said I should make my own choice….that if I am able, I should choose love."

You knew your mother offered you that choice in hopes your life would turn out differently than her own.

"But if Cedric is a good, kind man….could you not love him….or someone like him?" Osferth pressed.

"Perhaps. There are plenty of men I have seen who the church would call a 'good' man but are cruel in their own home, and there are many men who are calloused but it's obvious they love their wife and children. My love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. I would rather choose a man whom I know loves and cares for me than a man I know is 'good' but carries no love in his heart." You paused, the candid confession rolling off your tongue before you realized it. Sighing, you ran a hand over your hair before quietly saying. "I just….I just want someone that loves me….sinner or saint."

Not a word was spoken as all three contemplated your statement, the silence hanging heavy like a brewing storm. Tilting your face to the sky, unable to meet the gazes of your companions, you chastised yourself for the candor with which you spoke. Osferth had asked a simple question initially and you chose to make it complicated. They did not need to know how you longed for love, how the hope for it in your potential future was what kept you going. It was foolish and you supposed after this, they would only see you as a silly girl with outlandish dreams of a storybook romance.

Finally, Osferth broke the silence. "Well, I shall be praying fervently for this man….hopefully he knows what he is getting into before he marries you."

You laughed, appreciating his lighthearted comment. Reaching a hand out to smack Osferth's arm, you teased. "Keep that up and you won't be invited to my wedding."

"Your mother will let me in."

"Yeah, you're probably right." You glanced over in the direction of the town, regretting that your time away had to end. "I need to head back, those chores won't finish themselves."

The three of you headed back to the town, quiet contemplation cloaking your group. Yet you feared that whatever spark lay between you and the Dane had been extinguished forever by your unexpected honesty. For still he refused to look your way, keeping his gaze focused forward. If your heart fissured within your chest, you swallowed down the pain. It was better for the spark to die out now then burn brightly only to be smothered later.

Or at least that was what you told yourself.

*****

"What you said….about the sinners and the saints…."

You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat with a silent scream on your tongue. In the small herb garden behind your house, you had thought you were alone. After the awkward conversation on the hill earlier that day, you sought solace in your chores. Thankfully Osferth and Sihtric headed back to meet with their companions on their own accord, leaving you to trudge through your muddled thoughts with all the grace of a newborn foal.

Now you found the very person who your thoughts centered on, standing just a few paces from you….and your heart began to race for a very different reason.

When his voice trailed off, those dark eyes that set fire licking through your veins dropped to the ground, you quietly stood up from where you had knelt, wiping the dirt from your hands, although you moved no closer.

"Sihtric?" You tried to prompt him.

"Is it true?" His piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, stealing the very breath from your lungs. "Your love doesn't discriminate?"

"Yes." You breathed out.

He nodded silently before taking a step closer to you. "And what about….what about Danes?"

Your chest pulled tight at his words, yet a coy smile grew on your lips. The flutter in your belly made your gaze drop for a moment as you tried to stifle the excitement making butterflies dance. Although this was no declaration, it was the closest the two of you had talked about what lay between you. Taking a steadying breath, you prayed this moment would not pass by without confessing the truth that you had harbored in your heart for weeks now.

"Not even towards Danes." You shook your head, the smile still on your lips. "And…. There is one I'm becoming quite fond of lately."

"Yeah?" He took two steps closer, somehow moving cautiously but eating the ground with each determined step.

"But….do you think this Dane could be….fond of me?" You softly murmured, feeling as if your heart lay in the palms of your hands for all to see.

That last step separating you two disappeared almost before you finished asking your question. His hands ever so gently reached over to take yours, entwining your fingers together. The two of you stood so close, your chests almost touched with each breath you took. Your breathing seemed to cease under the intensity of his gaze and a shiver raced up your spine. Yet you had no desire to withdraw from him.

"He would be a fool not to." He whispered, the barest hint of a tremble in his voice. "I'd bet you are constantly on this Dane's mind. That he cannot go a day without seeing your face and hearing your laugh. You are the first thought that he wakes to and the reason he falls asleep with a smile. That you have become the north star that it seems the gods have been guiding him towards for his whole life."

As he spoke, everything faded to oblivion around you. The past and future vanished. Dane versus Saxon disappeared. The world narrowed down to this….this moment….this moment that you had dreamt of but never thought would come true.

The two of you continued to stand there, lost in one another's eyes with fingers intertwined. Your heart raced within your chest but a cooling breeze swept away the fears that plagued your mind. For staring at him, you knew he spoke no falsehoods. That he owned your heart just as much as you owned his. That very heart you could feel hammering away in his own chest. His eyes fervently held yours, a silent conversation, a confession, spoken only in looks but you both understood the language. His gaze dipped down to your lips, tracing them before slowly rising once again to your eyes. A curl of pleasure blossomed in your core as you witnessed the fire now in his eyes.

"If this Dane wanted to kiss me…. I wouldn't mind."

A deliciously, sinful smirk teased his mouth. "As my lady commands."

His head tilted, leaning towards yours. Unconsciously your eyelids fluttered closed. Then the briefest of touches made your knees weak and your mouth part open in a sigh. After a moment's hesitation, he continued to shower your jawline with kisses. Needing to touch him, your hands landed on his chest, feeling the tunic that covered his firm chest. Your hands moved upward to grasp the back of his neck, his pulse jumping for a second as your nails scraped his skin. His hands landed on the curve of your waist, bringing you even closer to him, erasing the unwanted space between your bodies.

As his lips began their ascent upward along the otherwise of your jaw, you moved. For the burning sparks in your body screamed if he did not kiss you, you would spontaneously combust. Shifting your face, you stole a kiss on his lips before he could place it on your skin. It was more of a gentle pressing of your mouths, but even then, you heard a sharp inhale from him. Before you could question him, his mouth returned to yours with soft, probing kisses that urged you to respond. Not that you would ever deny him. What started off as a gentle flame quickly became a roaring fire. Breathing became unnecessary, for how could air bring you life when your body craved Sihtric, when your lungs demanded to breathe him in instead. He led you in a drugging kiss that had you melting against him. Your lips drank from one another as if that alone could sustain you forevermore.

"THANK YA, GOD!!"

The passionate kiss abruptly ended as Sihtric and your gazes darted towards the side of your house. Only to be met with the sight of his three companions standing at the entrance in various states of smugness.

"Oh, for the love of Odin…." Sihtric mumbled.

You buried your face in Sihtric's chest, face heated in embarrassment but unable to stop the giggles that poured forth. So caught up in finally confessing your feelings and kissing the man who haunted your dreams, you forgot that anyone could walk by and see you. His arms tightened around you, keeping you within his protective, loving embrace….and you knew there was nowhere else you would rather be.

"Took the two of ya long enough." Finan continued, leaning against the side of your humble home with a shit-eating grin.

"Amen." Osferth had a small, teasing smile on his face. "Thought I would have to lock them in a room together before one of them finally confessed."

Apparently, you and Sihtric were not as subtle as you previously thought. Now it made sense why Osferth was questioning you about Cedric and your thoughts on love and marriage earlier. Your heart flooded with gratitude towards your childhood friend, for without him you doubted neither Sihtric or you would have spoken up. Peering over, you caught Osferth's eye and mouthed a quick 'thank you'. He nodded, a simple joy radiating from his face.

"Lord?" Sihtric called over with a blank expression. "Permission to continue?"

Uhtred chuckled. "I guess you've waited long enough. Go ahead."

Without waiting a moment longer, Sihtric tipped your face back up towards his and claimed your lips once more. You vaguely thought you heard laughter coming from the others but it all blurred away, like a faint sound while underwater. All you could see, all you could feel, all you could hear was Sihtric.

Just how you wanted it.

Suddenly you yanked your head back, your breathing labored and lips swollen. "My mother is helping at a nearby farm today. She won't be back until it's dark."

He hummed against your skin trailing small kisses along your jawline and down your neck as if unable to keep his hands and mouth off you now that the dam had been released.

"I'm not as pure as Osferth thinks me to be."

That statement made his actions stop. Carefully he raised his head to meet your gaze. "After dark?" He confirmed, voice rough in a way that sent a bolt of heat through you.

"Yes, she planned on having supper with them….so my home is currently empty….and I did just clean my blankets the other day…."

He swooped in to give you a feverish, greedy kiss that left no doubt where his mind had gone. When he finally pulled back, you were surprised your legs could still hold you upright. Your whole body felt like puddy in his arms and he had only kissed you, albeit you doubted you would ever forget the way his mouth worshiped yours.

"You are certain? You want this?" He softly asked, staring into your eyes once more. "You want me?"

It was the last question, the vulnerable undertone, the hint of insecurity in it that sealed your decision. Letting your actions be your answer, you grabbed his hand and started pulling him in the direction of the door to your home. It did not take more than a second for him to come beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

With his taste on your lips, the future did not matter right now. It did not matter that he was Dane and you were not. All you knew was Sihtric was neither a saint nor a sinner, but simply a man deserving of love. The river of your love was pointing you directly towards him, and you silently vowed to never let it run dry.

#ems100 #mzwrites #The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fandom #the last kingdom imagine #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson #Sihtric #sihtric imagine #Uhtred #Uhtred of Bebbanburg #osferth #finan #finan the agile

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weasleylangs · 3 years

Text

opposites attract - f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff Fem!Reader Summary: The quiet, Hufflepuff bookworm has captured the heart of the mischievous Gryffindor. Warnings: none! Word Count: 2k

A/N: For the anon that asked for Fred with a Hufflepuff reader who he’s uncharacteristically sweet for! I’m sorry it took so long, I hope you (and everyone else who reads it) enjoys it!!

P.S let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!

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Y/N sits in charms, completely zoned out. Charms was always her best subject and she was luckily one of those ‘never study, always pass’ students. The same could not be said about her boyfriend, however, who was sitting across the room trying to tickle his best friend with his quill and distract him.

Y/N and Fred were an unusual couple, and no one understood how the shy Hufflepuff girl managed to catch the mischievous Gryffindor’s attention. Fred’s idea of a good time was turning the corridor into a swamp or roughhousing during quidditch practise whilst Y/N’s was curled up in front of a fire, a nice book in her hand. But no one questioned it, because somehow they made it work.

Fred caught her eye and winked. They’ve been dating for six months now and he never gets tired from the shy look on her face when he looks at her. She shakes her head, hiding behind her hair and turning her attention back to Flitwick as he drones on about their assignment.

When the bell rings, signalling next period, Fred’s across the room in no time. Y/N has her head down, grabbing her notebook and quill when Fred snatched them out of her hand whilst simultaneously grabbing her bag from the floor. “I’ll carry them for you, love,” he said, smiling.

This wasn’t unusual behaviour. Before the couple got together, everyone always thought Fred was a flirt and was hooking up with different people every weekend, and whilst they were right at the time, Fred is absolutely whipped for his badger girlfriend and hasn’t even looked at another girl since their first date. He’s always wanting to carry her books or he’s slinging an arm around her shoulder.

She has him wrapped around her finger and he couldn’t care less.

“You don’t have to do that, Freddie. You know my bag is heavy,” she says trying to grab the bag from him. Fred only takes three classes, considering the three O.W.L’s he received in their fifth year, meaning sometimes he only has one class a day. However, Y/N managed to receive ten, only failing History of Magic (‘Who fucking cares?’ was everyone’s response), resulting in her having multiple classes a day and therefore a very heavy bag.

Fred, of course, shrugs it off, “I’m a beater, darling. Nice and strong. I can barely tell that you have five textbooks in here,” he says as he winks and causes Y/N’s face to heat up as she swats him on the chest. “I’m just saying you don’t have too, I can carry my own bag,” she pouts. While she knows Fred is more than happy to lug her bag around, she hates the idea that he’s only doing it out of obligation to be a ‘good boyfriend’.

These insecurities aren’t new. She hears what people say about them and it doesn’t bother her for the most part. Just there’s only so many times she can handle people she’s not even friends with talking about how ‘Y/N isn’t right for Fred’.

“You have potions now, yes?” Fred asks, pulling Y/N out of her worries as she follows Fred through the corridors. That’s another thing she never expected, Fred learnt her timetable when they started dating so he could always walk her to class. “I do, Freddie. You have a free right, are you spending it with George and Lee?”

Fred nods, “I sure am, we’re meeting in the One-Eyed Witch passage to pop down to Honeydukes too, you need anything?” Y/N frowns at this. “Freddie, that passage is on the third floor on the other side of the school. You don’t have to walk me to potions,” she tries to grab her bag from him again and he shakes his head.

“Darling, what part of ‘I want to do this’ do you not understand?” While his tone is sharp, he’s not angry. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever seen Fred this serious, a glint of cheekiness is always present in his eyes but right now, he looks about as serious as Snape when talking about proper cauldron care.

“I just don’t want to keep you from the boys,” she whispers, tugging at the sleeves of her robes. They stop walking, and Fred drags her body into a hug. “The boys are fine waiting, now do you want anything from Honeydukes.”

She falters for a second, just enjoying being in his presence. Despite the short amount of time they’ve been dating, Y/N knows what she feels for him is love and she can only hope the tall ginger boy feels the same way in return. His embrace can only be described as comfort, all Y/N’s worries rushing away as his familiar scent of firewood and cinnamon fills her senses.

“Some sugar quills, please,” she mumbles into his robes. “Anything for you,” he replies, pulling away and grabbing her hand. “C’mon, you’re going to be late for potions.”

It’s after dinner by the time Y/N catches Fred again. She’s walking out of the Great Hall when she feels her robes get tugged on and she almost falls over.

“Hi,” Fred says, “some sugar quills for my sugar quill.”

Y/N cringes at the cheesy nickname as she thanks him, popping the sweets into her robe pockets, “What are your plans for tonight?” Fred shrugs, more quiet than usual as he plays with Y/N’s fingers. “Nothing, I was… I was wondering if I can come and hang in the Hufflepuff common room with you?”

He’s shy and Y/N almost coos at it. Fred ‘no filter when he speaks’ Weasley is blushing as he asks his girlfriend to spend some time with her in her house common room, this is a once in a lifetime happening.

“Of course, Freddie. Any reason why?” It’s not that she doesn’t want him spending time with her. But Fred’s never expressed an interest in spending the night in, rather opting to terrorise Filch or another teacher after dinner.

“You like spending your evenings reading in front of the fire. I feel like I’ve barely seen you today,” he whispers. At this, she decides not to torture the poor boy any further and grabs his hand. “C’mon,”

They arrive at the common room in no time, no one batting an eye at the Gryffindor waltzing into the common room where he doesn’t belong. In fact, he gets quite a few “Hi Fred’s!” from people in their year. He’s always been popular and well known, so of course, the house of kindness is happy to have him.

“I’m going to run up to my dorm and change, are you sure you’re okay?” Fred nods, sitting himself down on the soft yellow chair in front of the fire. It’s Y/N’s favourite chair to read in and Fred knows it. “Sure am, hurry back before I freeze to death.”

Y/N speed changes, switching out her uniform for some sweatpants, one of Fred’s old jumpers and her favourite fuzzy sock. While she’s up there, she grabs a spare sweater she’s stolen from Fred for him to change into and her copy of ‘Frankenstein’ from her nightstand and rushes back downstairs and straight into Fred’s lap. “Hi,” she whispers, kissing him on the cheek.

Fred hums a hello as he settles into the soft pillows of the couch. Y/N perches herself next to him, slinging her legs across his lap with her back against the arm rest. “What’s it about?” Fred asks, gesturing to the book she’s just opened. He knows Y/N’s love for muggle books and he loves hearing her talk about them, even though he never understands. “A scientist who creates a ‘monster’ through experiments… It’s one of my favourites.”

She waves the book in Fred’s face and sure enough, the sticky notes and the plastic tabs are sticking out, referencing all her favourite parts. “It sounds cool, can I read it after you?”

Y/N is shy about this. Books are very important to her and she feels her sticky notes and writing in the margins are her deepest thoughts, a peep into her soul. But the boy in front of her owns her heart, every single part of it, and she decided then and there, she wants to share every part of herself with him. “Sure, but you have to promise to not judge my notes.”

He could never, the Hufflepuff girl in his lap turns his heart to mush no matter how much he tries to hide it and he can’t even imagine hurting her. He holds his pinky out, “I promise,” he says as she hooks her own with his and he presses a kiss to her forehead.

They sit in silence for a while. Fred starts conversing with members of the Hufflepuff quidditch team (“We’re going to crush you next week, Kirke” she hears Fred say at one point and she has to nudge him with her knee to not start a brawl in the common room) while Y/N reads. At one point, her hand ends up in Fred’s hair, playing with the short strands at the nape of his neck.

When she does this, Fred leans into her touch and his eyes flicker shut for only a second. She thinks she’s finally found a way to quiet him down and she makes a mental note to play with his hair next time she wants to get some reading done.

The time starts to near 10pm as Y/N starts yawning, and as much as Fred would love to stay, he knows he’ll have enough trouble getting back to Gryffindor tower without George, Lee and their trusty Mauraders Map. “I should probably get going, darling,” Fred mutters after a while and when he looks at his girlfriend, she’s pouting.

“I wish you could stay,” she says and when Fred cocks his eyebrow she laughs, “not like that, you git!”

She quickly stands, pulling Fred’s gangly body up from the couch and into her arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, we have double Defence,” Fred says laughing and she feels his chest rumble with laughter. “Too long,” she mumbles in reply. When Y/N gets tired, she gets clingy which was one of the earliest things Fred ever learnt about her. It’s always one of the cutest things about her.

He walks to the portrait hole, his small girlfriend clinging to his body and he presses a soft kiss to her hairline before detaching her. “Darling, I have to go.”

He feels terrible. He knows she isn’t being clingy to make him feel bad, she genuinely just wants to spend time with him. She yawns again, eyes scrunched closed as she stretches her arms that somehow end up wrapped back around his waist.

“Okay, you can go,” she gives him one final squeeze before letting him go and looking up at him and before Fred can stop himself the words are slipping out.

“I love you.”

This wakes her up immediately and her eyes are wide as she looks at him, “R-really?”

Fred was going to pretend he never said it, worried it was both too early and that she didn’t feel the same way. But the way she’s looking at him, glints of happiness in her eyes and the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her face he knows now is the right time.

“I do, I love you.”

She jumps on him again, pressing her lips to his. Her lips are soft against his, they always are and the kiss is filled with love and adoration. Neither of them is aware of how long they stand there, embraced in each other’s arms until they’re barely kissing anymore, their smiles too wide.

“I love you too, Freddie. I love you more,” she says, full seriousness in her face. “Oh love, you won’t win this argument.” He presses a kiss to her lips again before slinking out of the portrait hole, leaving Y/N standing with her fingers pressed to her lips smiling.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley

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sehunniepotwrites · 3 years

Text

AS YOU WISH | J.JH | ONE

cover by @seostudios

SYNOPSIS. He was a boy, she was a girl— can I make it any more obvious?

But actually, she was a cursed genie of two thousand years who longed to be freed of her gilded cage and he was a modern but lonely boy who hoped to free her. He just didn’t expect to fall in love with her in the process.

GENRE. angst, slow burn, romance, genie!au, reincarnation!au, royal!au, thief!au PAIRING. jeong jaehyun x female genie!reader MINOR CHARACTERS. mark lee, moon taeil, jeong sungchan WORD COUNT. 10.6k+

WARNINGS. stealing, mentions of cuts and wounds, blood, physical beating, derogatory name calling

ONE: PAST | TWO: INTERLUDE | THREE: PRESENT

2000 YEARS AGO, THE KINGDOM OF NEIHO

“Stop, street rat!”

Heavens, how you hated that name. You ached to yell a taunting insult back but you were afraid of the royal guards catching onto your identity by hearing the sound of your voice.

“Grab that lousy thief!”

The calls of the guards continued to sound throughout the pathway as you ran for your life. The heavy bag of riches slung along over your shoulder pounded against your upper back as you felt the wind in your hair. The extra weight was beginning to weigh you down but you did not falter. Your strained legs propelled you forward and you stole a quick glance behind you— the burly men with swords were gaining on you and you could not let them.

“Wait— there are two of them!”

You cursed when your partner was spotted. From the corner of your eye, you caught a flicker of his cape turning a corner. You were supposed to be the diversion. The blazing sun burned your skin through your hooded cloak but you had to keep pushing. For them.

You would do anything for them, even give your life for them, just as your mother did before you.

Apologizing as you passed, you threw down displays of fresh produce to throw the guards off. You would come back to help clean up later.

You pulled the cloak down to better conceal your face before sprinting into a hidden nook in the village center. The bolstering guards ran past your hiding spot moments later, their leader barking commands to his subordinates before they all went their separate ways. Peeking behind a wall, you watched as their backs grew smaller and smaller and let out an audible sigh.

You made it another day. With a wide-eyed grin, you pushed yourself out of your hiding spot and walked an easy path to the outskirts of the kingdom where people were waiting for you.

If the guards were smart enough, they would have easily found you by they searched the outskirts of the kingdom’s stone walls. There was an opening in the walls, big enough for one person to fit through. You frequented that small hole often with a large sack hauled over your back. As soon as you passed that point in your path, you tossed your cloaked disguise into a nearby bush before trekking on to your final destination.

The path was lengthy but at least you were in the shade instead of under the blazing sun. The clanking of your stolen riches kept you company as you navigated through the many trees. It wasn’t long until you reached an open area filled with a variety of people. Lousy tents made of the thinnest cloth and held up by fallen branches surrounded the field and in the center was a large fire pit. There were clotheslines, cooking supplies, and a short supply of food scattered around the makeshift camp.

The plentiful conversations hushed when you dropped the sack at the end of the path. A shuffling of footsteps and the tinkling sound of coins clanging against each other reached your ears before another figure plopped down beside you, his body falling splat onto the soft grass.

“I refuse to do that again,” a boyish voice groaned beside you. It came from a boy around your age, give or take a few years, with messy brown hair and the cutest set of doe eyes. His thin face and sharp jawline were lined with dirt but he was still what you considered handsome.

“Minhyung, stop your fusing,” you scolded as you ruffled his hair. The boy whined at your actions, moving away to escape your teasing. “You say the same thing every single time we do this, however, you keep coming back to help me.”

“They almost caught me this time around,” he told you. “I barely escaped— one guard grabbed me by the ends of my cloak and almost saw my face! I thought you were the distraction!”

“I was,” you fired back.

“And yet, they still found me,” Minhyung reported dramatically, swinging an arm over his eyes. There was a beat of comfortable silence as the breeze came rolling in.

“But was it worth it?” you asked with a soft voice.

A pair of dirtied feet appeared in your vision. You and Minhyung tilted your heads up to find a small child, not even five years of age gazing at you expectantly. The child’s body was extremely malnourished and their cheeks were horribly sunken in. They looked bashful as they outstretched an arm towards Minhyung.

He sent the child a tiny smile, his mouth curving up at the ends, as he produced a small loaf of bread from beneath his cloak. The child’s eyes sparkled in delight as they snatched the piece of food from Minhyung’s hold and eagerly bit into it. You patted the child’s head lovingly as you hand them a grip of gold coins. They shuffled back to their family who gave their thanks.

As the other people in the open field started to line up to receive their share, Minhyung simply replied: “Yes, yes it was.”

You grinned at your fellow thief— you thought it was worth it, too.

Your gaze shifts to the high towers of Neiho’s palace peeking from behind the treetops. But sometimes, you pondered over how effortless life must have been when living like royalty— was it easy when everything was provided for you?

Unlike what most people assumed, living the life of a royal was far from easy.

Jeong Yuno, the Crown Prince of Neiho, had a sudden urge to bang his head against the library wall. He refrained from doing so, the action being far from princely. He looked up from his pile of parchment paper with glazed over eyes, the ink from his quill drying from the lack of writing. There were rows of untouched books lined up at his desk and none of them were of his interest. They skirted on the topics of Neiho’s history and politics; although it was something he was already versed in, he hated the subject unlike his younger brother, Chansung, who excelled and loved it.

Yuno longed to touch the atlas that was stationed on his tutor’s desk. He wanted to study it, chart a course to another far off land, and mark it with ink as he visited place to place. But instead of traveling, the crown prince drowned in his studies while his tutor looked down upon his distracted self.

“Prince Yuno, have you heard a single word that has left my lips or is your head still up in the clouds?” Moon Taeil, the kingdom’s main historian and tutor, scolded. His wooden stick struck the surface of Yuno’s desk and the shocked boy jumped. From his own desk, Chansung snickered behind his thin hand.

“My apologies,” the crown prince bowed his head, his ears turning crimson from being caught by the snippy tutor.

“Well, since I have gained you back from the skies, might you list Neiho’s past rulers and achievements in order?”

Yuno bit back a loud groan. He was in desperate need of a sweet escape. His gaze floated out the window and onto the blooming marketplace below. It seemed like the liveliness was calling his name.

One of the things you loved about your mother was her storytelling. You heard stories of all kinds of love while growing up on the fly. She painted clear pictures of people falling at first sight, of hate turning to overflowing affection, and so much more. Your mother sold you tales of star-crossed lovers that found their happy endings before she passed; her fables of love sounded nothing more than poppycock and folly.

That is, until it occurred to the unsuspecting you.

It was a usual day for you in the city— hood up, cloak flowing in the wind with a sack beating your back as you were on the run from the royal guards stationed in the marketplace. You weaved in between the townsfolk, your nimble body easily pushing through nooks and crannies when you bumped into something— or rather, someone strong.

“Oof!”

“Oh!”

The large sack you carried added some extra weight, leading you to topple over the stranger that ran into your smaller build. The stranger was about to mumble a quick apology before you heard the bellowing of the persistent guards.

You cursed. There was no room for hesitation when you were caught in a tight spot such as this. With staggering breaths and a pounding chest, you grabbed the man’s hand and navigated through endless alleyways and store fronts. You mastered the art of escaping at a young age while he had trouble keeping up with your speed.

And so, your first adventure with the man you would soon learn to love began.

Your hurried steps brought you to an unattended rooftop. You put one foot on the ledge and leaned your body over to glance at the commotion in the market. Down below, the guards were scrambling through the bustling crowds in a failed attempt to find you. Watching them struggle on their search sent you into a laughing fit that your then mysterious companion echoed.

With a heaving chest and rushing heart, you finally looked up at him for the first time and saw the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on. Despite only seeing him from his place on the balcony or painted portraits before, you immediately knew who he was: The Crown Prince of Neiho. He had deep chocolate eyes and jet-black hair that highlighted his sweat stained skin. His cheeks and ears were flushed with a rosy red as he gasped for air. He was dressed in a horrible excuse for a disguise; the high-end material he wore and golden shoes were purposefully stained. It was as if the prince wanted to be found.

You quickly retracted your dirtied hand from his soft one and immediately dropped to your knees. “My sincerest apologies for placing my soiled hands on yours, Your Highness. I ask for your forgiveness,” you said with a bowed head, your disheveled hair covering your embarrassed face.

Yuno let out a hearty laugh, one that was deep but still sounded like the lightest bells in your ear. “Please, none of that,” he said, helping you to your feet.

“If anything, you helped me escape from those wretched guards,” he sent you an angelic smile and you swore the heavens were smiling down on you at that moment. “I should thank you.”

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder as you felt your face flush with an unfamiliar heat.

“May I know the name of my savior?” Yuno questioned teasingly, his eyes looking deep into yours.

“Perhaps another time, Your Highness,” you said quite cheekily before running back into the crowd.

The second time you met Prince Yuno, you were both on the run once again. In a way similar to what you had done in the past, his hand slipped so fluidly into yours before you sprinted through the town square. You knocked a fruit cart down as a diversion and the guards struggled making their way through the mess. Through your hooded cloak that flowed in the breeze, you turned over your shoulder to chuckle at how helpless the so-called protectors looked.

“We must stop meeting like this, Highness,” you breathed out as you kept up with his speed.

“Why? I quite enjoy meeting like this,” he threw back at you with a sheepish grin. There was a glimmer of adventure in his eyes and you chuckled.

The hood of your cape fell back, revealing your face for a quick moment before you tugged it back up. It was too late, though, for he had seen your face. Having only heard your voice before, Yuno’s steps faltered at the sight of you. Taking charge at that moment, you overtook him and jerked him into an unpaved path.

You took him over and under until you found a safe haven on top of a building— your makeshift home. Ratty cotton sheets were tied to poles for shade and a pile of pillows was bunched together to make a bed. Random trinkets were scattered along the rooftop along with a scarce supply of food and sacks of stolen treasures leaning against a wall. You wordlessly made yourself comfortable, pouring yourself two cups of water from a jug and handed one to the stranger in your space. He took it graciously and gulped it down, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he did so.

“From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, my dear savior,” Yuno spoke to you for the second time that day.

“It was nothing, Your Highness,” you responded, waving him off as you sat at his feet.

“I feel like this was fate or destiny calling,” Yuno suggested out of the blue.

“This?”

“Us, meeting again,” he answered smoothly, his voice as melodic as a mother’s lullaby.

“I suppose it is.”

“Seeing as destiny brought us together, might I know your name?”

Despite being of a higher status, he didn’t seem as selfish as you thought he would be—Yuno seemed kind and trustworthy. You let down your walls and stuttered out your name. The dark orbs that you got lost in flashed with recognition and you wondered if you made a wrong move by revealing your identity.

“You!” he shouted, his voice booming loudly. “Yes, I have heard many things about you.”

You glared at him with panicked eyes and you rushed to cover his soft lips. “Are you insane, Highness? Speak like that and they will surely find us here!”

“My apologies,” he replied, tugging at his earlobe in embarrassment. “My excitement got the best of me.”

You snorted at his answer, “Excitement?” you probed. “What is there to be excited about?”

“It is not everyday you meet the infamous thief that steals from the rich to give back to the poor,” Yuno grinned with dimples sinking into his soft cheeks.

He was not wrong; you did steal for a living to help the less fortunate. Unlike many others your age, you were able-bodied and felt the mighty need to provide for others who needed extra support. This had been the fifth time the guards had almost caught you but it didn’t matter. As long as the children on the street did not starve, you would risk your life over and over again.

Your mother, compassionate and altruistic as one could ever be, had done so in the past and you were determined to carry her legacy. You wanted to make her proud.

“Are you going to arrest me then?” you challenged with a brow. You took a large step back, ready to be on the run if the situation called for it. “If that is your intention, Your Highness, it is in my best interest to leave you.”

“Oh, no! If anything, I agree with your actions,” he relayed, arms shooting out to keep you in his reach. The Prince’s touch pierced your skin with comforting warmth and you shudder at the odd sensation.

“The Royal Advisor, Rowena, insists on high taxes and taking from the poor while feeding the rich,” he started to explain, taking a seat on the dusty steps.

You hummed, recalling the many times you had laid your eyes on the advisor— she held her head high and wore a permanent, almost sinister smirk on her gorgeous face. Her eyes were as red as blood and hair as black as night. She was beyond intimidating, more so than the Royal Family and their guards.

“What she is doing to the people out here, it isn’t right,” Yuno added on. “They are suffering and I feel as if it is my duty to stop her.”

“I feel as if it is mine as well,” you replied.

“I tried to tell the King of how Rowena’s suggestions have been affecting the community outside the palace walls but it is as if she has him under a spell. He hears not a thing I say,” he explained exasperatedly.

He let out a defeated sigh as you crouched next to him. You let him speak, seeing how distressed he was by the whole situation. “He only listens to her and my younger brother, Chansung; he is the smarter sibling. I am nothing but a pretty face that represents the kingdom,” the prince chuckled darkly.

“Highness—” you tried to intervene, not enjoying how he was belittling himself. He stopped you before you could even begin with a mere glance.

“It is not I who deserves the throne, it is Chansung. I can barely do a thing when my mind is elsewhere. How can I rule when my mind is not focused on the needs of my people?”

You place a tentative hand on his knee to ground him before his thoughts send him spiraling.

“I apologize,” the runaway prince blurted suddenly. “I do not know you and here I am, spilling out my innermost thoughts. You must think I am a fool.”

“No, it’s quite alright. I imagine you have no one to discuss this with within the palace,” you comforted him with a kind smile. You encouraged Yuno to continue, hands urging him on. “But if your mind is not here, then…”

Yuno shot you an empty grin, the upturns of his lips not meeting his reddening ears. “I have been trapped inside the palace since birth. Raised inside these walls all my life. I am safe and sound with a set future here and yet…” his voice trailed off, looking at the overview of the kingdom. His stare then gravitated beyond the kingdom walls.

“And yet?”

“I want to go beyond our borders. I know there is more the world has to offer. I have read about it in books but I want to experience it in person, write it down, and bring back what I have learned to better Neiho.” There was a sense of longing in his voice and you could almost relate to his yearning.

You took a seat next to him, your knees touching his. Your body turned towards him, torso leaning forward to give the prince your undivided attention. “What have you read about so far, Your Highness?”

“Please call me Yuno,” he said gently, clutching onto your hand. You tried to tug it away, flustered from the sudden contact, and he only tightened his clasp.

“Yes, Your Highness,” you replied, “I mean, Y-Yuno.”

The instant his name left your lips, he sent you the most dazzling smile, his pearly white teeth perfectly framed by the pink of his lips and the curve of his dimples. Whiskers appeared around his closed eyes and his nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and you found yourself falling down the rabbit hole one called love.

Ever since that fated day, you arranged countless meetings in random nooks and crannies of the marketplace. Yuno taught you the many things he had learned from his readings while you showed him places he had never been before. He brought you books and taught you how to read. You taught him how to fend for himself in the forest.

You often found yourselves weaving through crowds as the guards attempted to follow your trails. Laughter bubbled through the prince’s chest as you tugged him along with intertwined fingers. Your heart leaped huge lengths across your chest every time he glanced your way through his fluttering eyelashes and you wondered if he felt the same.

Your days with Yuno always ended on that same rooftop, overlooking the beautiful sight that was Neiho, and you adored every second of it.

One night, you blurted out, “Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?” Yuno glanced up at you from your lap, head tilting with curiosity. Your fingers were tangled in his soft, clean hair as his hand played with the ends of yours.

“Do you?” he countered. The point of your elbow dug into his toned stomach and he winced.

“I asked first,” you said and he laughed at your argument.

“And I am the Crown Prince,” he threw back and you pouted at his response.

You were quiet for a moment, gathering your thoughts together before answering your own question. “Yes.”

“And what do you wonder about?”

“There are times I wish for a life where I am comfortable, where I’m not breaking my back for someone else’s sake.” Feeling a bit vulnerable, you drew your hands away from his head and wrapped them around your waist— it was your first time to reveal this hidden thought of yours.

“It’s not that I want to stop helping them,” you explained tentatively, “I just wonder what it would be like to start living just for me, without the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

Yuno only hummed in reply. You shook your head, snapping yourself out of the daze you were in. “Your turn to answer,” you pushed the heavy question onto him.

“I suppose so, yes,” he mused simply. “I would like to be a traveling scholar, see the world through my own eyes. I often wonder about a life of travel, you know this.”

You did know this—Yuno told you this many times.

“There’s another thing I wonder about, though,” he slipped in.

“And what is that?”

“I often wonder what life would be like if I had you by my side.”

You coughed at his sweet words, not at all expecting to hear a statement like that. He reached up to pat your back as you choked on air, giggling at your antics. Your breathing returned to normal and his fingers found their way to yours. With entwined fingers and hearts, he called your name endearingly as his head rested against your lap. You returned his earnest stare under the light of the moon with the same intensity, “Yes, my prince?”

He rolled his eyes at your response.

Yuno, hidden in a ripped cloak, brought your hand against his plump lips and looked into your eyes as he kissed your knuckles. “I arose from bed this morning with a sudden realization.”

“Have you come to the conclusion that Chansung is the better looking royal?” you poked. He gave you a look of betrayal and you giggled at his furrowed brows and flared nostrils.

“It was nothing but a joke, dear,” you laughed, running your fingers through his thick locks of hair. He huffed loudly, turning away from your playful gaze.

“My attempt to confess my love and she makes a fool out of me,” he mumbled under his breath but you could not catch his words.

“You would make a great jester,” Yuno added with another roll of his gorgeous eyes.

“I don’t think I would enjoy being the laughing stock of nobility,” you answered, poking at his soft cheek. He swatted your hand away in annoyance but your fingers were persistent. You continued to sink your finger into the skin of his cheek until he caught it and nibbled on your fingertip. Yelping, you drew back your hand and narrowed your gaze at the prince.

It was his turn to laugh at your reaction, blessing your ears with the sweetest melody. “My darling, you would never be a laughing stock to me.”

Although your finger throbbed, you were happy to see the playful side of the prince— he often had a stoic expression when addressing the people of Neiho from the palace balconies. The sight of his bright smile was enough to light the whole kingdom tenfold.

“What would I be then?” you asked mockingly.

Yuno shifted to face you, his ethereal features glowing in the starlight and captivating you in ways you could not explain. There was a fluttering feeling in your stomach and an intense pounding in your chest as Yuno gave you the simplest answer, “The love of my life.”

His words sent your heart soaring to the highest of places.

In that moment, it mattered not who you were and where you were because you were the love of his life just as he was yours.

Arriving at the clearing deep in the forest, you released the bag of stolen goods from your hold. Panting out breaths, you did your best to steady your heartbeat. The racing palpitations of heart felt different somehow, maybe because for once, they were not caused by the adrenaline of running away but by the highs of being deeply in love.

A gorgeous smile broke out on your face and you hadn’t a care if you looked like a crazy loon.

“Where have you been?” A familiar voice blasted from above you. Looking up, you saw Minhyung seated on a tree branch. He leaped down, landing directly on his feet with a playful smirk.

You coughed the grin right off your face. “I had to take a little detour is all.”

“A detour?” Minhyung questioned.

“Yes, a detour.”

Your friend circled you, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Quite unusual for your detours to last until sundown,” he teased, “and you look like you’re walking on air.”

You tried to bite back your grin and you failed. You could never hide anything from Minhyung, he had seen you through it all. He was your brother after all— not by blood but nevertheless, he was family.

“I met the Crown Prince,” you muttered under your breath.

“Do speak up, you know how I hate when you mumble,” Minhyung teased, using the words you often fired at him.

“I said, Minhyung, I met the Crown Prince,” you repeated with a louder voice.

You watched as Minhyung’s eyes widened like saucers and how they gleamed with intrigue as he squeezed you closer to him. “You met Prince Yuno?!” he gasped. “How— why? What?”

“Keep it down, will you please?” Clamping a dirtied hand over his mouth, you tried to shut him up. He simply licked your palm to which you smacked him across the head.

“Well, this isn’t our first time meeting. We’ve met many a time before,” you started off, going down your short history with the prince. Minhyung listened attentively— his admiration for the Royal Family, much like many of the other Neiho citizens, ran deep.

“How is he in real life?”

“Nothing short of wonderful,” you sighed, head turning back to face the city. You wondered how he was doing, if he made it back through the palace gates without any trouble from the guards he was escaping from. “He is like the brightest star I have ever seen, so beautiful and radiant but still so far out of my reach.”

Remembering the sound of his laughter and the look in his eyes, another soft smile appeared on your face. It was a smile Minhyung had never seen on your features. You appeared as if you were the star you just described, shining brightly for one person and one person alone. The light in your eyes was almost too blinding, he wanted to look away but Minhyung couldn’t.

It had been so long since he had seen you this happy— the last time you smiled so cheerfully was with your mother so many years ago. You adopted a harsher look throughout the years that Minhyung was beyond ecstatic to see that happiness still existed within you.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you answered gently. “He told me to call him Yuno.”

“And did you?”

“Of course, Minhyung,” you said with a chuckle, “it would be wrong to not obey royalty.”

“Yes, you’re quite right,” Minhyung hummed back.

“He is filled with kindness and loyalty to the kingdom, which is admirable.”

“But?”

Thinking back to the conversation you had with the prince, your eyebrows stitched together when recalling his dreams. “His heart aches for adventure and knowledge, things he cannot find here if he is to be King.”

Minhyung searched your face for a glimpse into your head. “Isn’t that what you’re looking for, too?”

Looking your best friend and fellow thief straight in the eyes, you were posed with a thought that hadn’t even crossed your scattered mind. “I suppose it is.”

Minhyung laughed as you came to the realization. The two of you sat in silence as you breathed everything in.

“The Prince isn’t that far from your reach then,” Minhyung posed with a childlike grin. “He is much closer than you think.”

The first time Yuno kissed you was underneath the setting sun. Hidden behind the stone walls of the palace, he pressed you into a dark corner where no one could catch sight of your unlikely pairing.

It was a long day for the both of you— you had snuck into the houses of nobles, stealing their smallest treasures to sell in order to feed the hungry while he shadowed his father during his audiences with the people of Neiho. Your secret rendezvous started with exchanging stories about your eventful day with shared laughter and the sweetest of touches. Yuno’s smooth hands ghosted against your dry ones several times, each touch sending tingles down your spine.

His arms caged you in between his strong body and the hard stone wall as his face hovered in front of your own. Your breath hitched as his intense stare shifted from your eyes to your parted lips. It was the dead of winter but you had never felt hotter under his fiery gaze.

“May I kiss you?” you found yourself asking as his plump bottom lip grazed against your own. You were shocked by your own bravery and you knew he was, too. Your heart pounded loudly like a beating drum and you swore the prince could hear it as well.

“Do as you wish,” the prince replied almost breathlessly, captivated by the way your eyes kept flickering to the lack of space in between your bodies.

“But is that what you wish for, Yuno?” you countered with a sultry tone. He gulped loudly at how confident you were and nodded almost too eagerly, lips barely brushing against your dry ones. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Then, your wish is my command,” you smile before closing the distance between. A light press of your lips onto his was all it took to send your world spinning round. Yuno deepened it by leaning his body against your smaller build, a hand tilting your jaw up in a different angle.

He held you so gently, making you feel as if you were royalty. Hands in his hair and his arms around your waist, his kiss made it seem like you had chased the blowing winds and touched the pastel sky. His love rose you to the heavens above and you soared with a rush of freedom you had never felt before.

You kissed as the sky cast a golden glow upon your bodies, too lost in each other to realize you were the focus of someone’s envious gaze.

While you flirted with the life of crime, Yuno made his way through the hallowed hallways of Neiho’s palace. His heavy steps echoed throughout the empty path but he couldn't even hear a thing— his mind was littered with scattered thoughts. He marched his way to his younger brother’s quarters, determined that would be the day he would reveal his heart to his kin. The crown prince groaned in frustration, decorated hands messing with his jet-black hair as he tried to piece what to say.

How did one even start this conversation? Yuno never had a conversation as deep as this with his sibling before. The only person he poured his heart to was you.

Does he start with not waiting to take the throne or with his dream of travel? Should he begin with his skepticism over Advisor Rowena and the poor conditions of their people?

Yuno stopped in place— Rowena. He cringed at the thought of her. He heard the rumors swirling around the circle of nobility. The servants in the palace could never keep their mouth shut at the whispers. There were tales of the King making the advisor his betrothed for the sake of a flourishing kingdom.

He couldn’t fathom how his father came to this as a viable option for the betterment of Neiho.

Yuno thought traveled back to you and what you stood for: how your gigantic heart only thought of others. He recalled how your body was drenched with wounds and scars and yet, you still kept going for the people that had everything to lose. He wanted to find ways to make your life easier but he knew he couldn’t find them inside Neiho’s borders. He had to leave in order to find that solution.

Yuno had no idea how long he contemplated in front of Chansung’s room before the door burst open. Yuno let out a shocked yell as his brother cocked an eyebrow at his older sibling.

“Brother, how long were you going to stand outside my door before simply coming in?” Chansung leaned against the wall as Yuno placed his hand over his rapid heart. He tried to catch his breath much to his brother’s amusement, but he was a bundle of nerves.

“Chansung,” he exhaled, still clutching his chest, “how did you know I was here?”

“It is impossible to not hear your stomps and groans through the wall,” the younger prince poked. “I imagine the townsfolk down below could hear your pacing.”

“Of course,” the older prince said with a roll of his eyes. His younger brother wordlessly invited him in by opening the door to his chambers wider and he breezed through, taking a seat on Chansung’s plush mattress. Chansung closed the door behind him to find his usually composed sibling with his head in his hands. A symphony of defeated sighs left Yuno’s lips and Chansung set a comforting hand on his brother’s back.

“What ails you, dear brother?” The younger implored.

“Chansung.”

“Yes, brother?”

“Have you ever felt like there was something more out there in the world, just waiting for you?”

Chansung paused at Yuno’s question, retreating his hand from his brother’s body. A silence surrounded the room as the younger sat next to his sibling.

“I suppose I haven’t,” Chansung answered with a hum. He turned to face his brother, finding the crown prince’s face contorted with furrowed brows and sucked in cheeks. “I knew that my place was always here in the castle and I have always taken that role seriously.”

This was true. Chansung always buried himself in his studies, gathering enough knowledge to to soon overtake the place of Yuno’s future advisor. He studied religiously to not let his people down, just as his Father and Rowena currently were.

The older nodded silently, the black strands of his hair shifting to hide his eyes as he did so. He tugged on his earlobe, a habit he picked up when he was deep in thought or stressed beyond belief. Chansung caught sight of Yuno’s tell-tale and his lips pursed on trying to figure out as to why his brother was stressed.

“See, Chansung, that’s the difference between us,” Yuno broke the deafening silence.

“What is?”

“You are the one who deserves the throne, not I.”

“Brother!” Chansung shouted in defiance. “Why would you say that? You would make a great king!” He pushed with such force. Yuno smiled, his brother always had seen the best in him.

“Chansung, one cannot deny the truth,” the crown prince smiled at his sibling. The upturns of his plump lip showed the prince’s fondness for his brother and a twinge of regret for not being the royal people expected him to be.

“I have known what people have expected me to be and I have tried my best to live up to those expectations but...” Yuno began. He stood up and walked towards the open balcony, Chansung following in his wake. The elder leaned against the railings, hands resting on the cold stone as his sibling chose to press his back against it.

Townsfolk caught a glimpse of them from down below and enthusiastically yelled for the royal duo’s attention. The younger greeted them with matched excitement, bringing his hand up for a wave while the elder just nodded at them with a forlorn expression taking over his handsome face. He stared at the crowd a little longer than he should have, his mind wandering to the thief that stole his heart. His deep chocolate eyes traced the busy streets and alleyways, through the ways of the marketplace and the housing area until he could no longer see the outlines of the path.

“But you feel as if you belong down there,” Chansung finished for him with a hint of understanding.

“Yes,” Yuno breathed out.

“Brother, you have always had a knack for escaping,” Chansung joked lightheartedly to ease his brother’s troubled heart. It was not everyday a royal revealed he wanted to be one of the people after all.

A hearty, deep rumbling laugh escaped the crown prince’s lips. “I suppose I was not as discreet as I could have been,” he said with the shake of his head, “I was too busy running away from the guards to leave quietly.”

“I suppose not,” the younger chuckled along, the sounds of their laughter drifting with the winds.

“But Yuno,” Chansung’s voice called, “will you be alright?” His voice grew faint towards the end of the question and Yuno caught what his sibling was implying. Would the crown prince be alright after leaving a life of comfort?

“Yes,” Yuno smiled, his eyes shining in a way the second in line had never seen before, “for I will be happy.”

“Will you really be happy?” Chansung asked softly, his voice choking at the thought of his brother leaving him behind. He shook the sadness away and grinned widely at his sibling.

“You are leaving your favorite person behind after all,” he teased, barely dodging a playful punch to the chest. Yuno slung his arm over Chansung’s broad shoulder, bringing a hand to ruffle the other’s neatly styled hair.

“When have I ever called you that?”

“Come, Yuno,” the younger man said with a proud smile, “we have much to discuss before we bring this to Father.”

Yuno laughed once more, his heart bursting with an infinite amount of joy. He was one step closer to being free.

Nothing could take away his happiness, or so he thought. Neither brother realized the person lurking in the shadows, hanging onto every word with disdain.

“He wants to abdicate the throne for a measly street rat? How could this be?” Rowena asked herself as she stormed into her secret hideaway within the palace walls after hearing the conversation between the siblings. The fabric of her robe flowed behind her and the mighty jeweled staff pounded against the floor as she rushed her way down steep steps.

“All these years of scheming my way to the top will be wasted if he leaves with that peasant,” she spat harshly. Passing by the mirror hanging on her wall, Rowena paused in place to admire her looks. Running a hand through her shining black locks and stroking the sharp line of her jaw, she wondered what you had that she didn’t.

She had the looks, the intelligence, and the kingdom in the palm of her magic hand while you merely survived by committing to a life of crime. Why wasn’t the prince in love with her?

“Yuno and the position of queen was to be mine,” the advisor hissed, hazel eyes darkening with envy with each word she spoke. “I have not wasted my energy spelling the king only to settle for the second born.”

Her reflection disappeared from her view, a bundle of smoke and clouds hiding her away before dispersing into a sweet image of you and the prince together.

A terrifying shriek left her lips at the new reflection. Picking up the closest item within her reach, she hurled it into the mirror projecting that horrifyingly romantic image. The crack of the glass echoed in throughout the room and it fueled her bubbling ambition.

As her grip tightened against the length of her staff, she felt a new plan hatching in her head and dark magic coursing through her veins. “Prince Yuno and Neiho will be mine, make no mistake about that.”

You thought your love was too good to be true and he tried to convince you otherwise— you were a mere village thief and he was the Crown Prince. You came from practically nothing while he was of royal blood and yet, your fragile heart couldn’t help but fall for the lost man behind the crown and jewels. Your relationship was against the fates and the aligned stars but the prince had the strongest urge to rewrite them just to keep you by his side.

“I have scheduled a private audience with the King tomorrow.”

“And what will you discuss with him, love?” You stroked his fringe away from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your gentle hold.

He nestled into your palm, sighing at your warmth. “Renouncing the throne,” Yuno announced casually.

“I beg your pardon?!” You almost screamed into the night.

The prince ignores your little outburst, continuing his explanation. “The life of a royal is not the life I wish to live. I want to live a life of travel and adventure.” He sat up to clutch your hands in his. “I want to live a life with you, if you will have me.”

“With me?” You managed to mutter. “Out of all people, why with me?”

“Because I’m in love with you. Any day with you would be an adventure.”

“But I don’t have anything— no riches, just rags,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. He took you in, dirt smeared face and ripped clothing, and still looked at you like you held the world in your hands. Yuno saw the stars, the sky, the whole entire universe in your eyes. He didn’t need anything else— he just needed you.

“I love you more than anything else in this world but all I have to offer you is everything in me. I’m not sure if that is enough,” you bit your lip, teething gnawing down on your sensitive skin out of nervousness. He was the boy who had everything and he was willing to give everything up for a life with you.

Yuno brought your injured knuckles to his lips. He kissed them gently, holding your gaze with a soft one of his own. “My love, that is more than enough. You are more than enough.”

“But what about the villagers? What will happen to them if I were to leave?” You sputtered out, worrying about others rather than yourself.

He smiled at your selflessness. “I have already discussed this with Chansung. He is aware of the village’s situation and is willing to make changes to better their livelihood.”

“I can’t leave them behind,” you pulled your hands away. “They need me.”

“He is willing to work with your partner, Minhyung, to reach out to our people. No man left behind,” he replied with a smile. “We thought of all the options.”

You wanted to go with him but they were all you knew. Protecting the villagers and providing them with hope was always your number one priority— you had never thought of anything else. Would your mother be disappointed in you if you left them all behind or would she be happy to know that you have found a potential shot of happiness?

“Please, just think about it, my darling.”

“And Minhyung, he asked me to think about it!” You shrieked while running through the trees, a sack of gold hitting the small of your back. You looked behind you to see your younger partner-in-crime giving you the smuggest smile.

“Well, are you thinking about it?” He questioned, curiosity burning in his doe eyes. He wiggled his brows to tease you and you wanted to slap him with your heavy sack.

“What is there to think about? I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Why is that?” Your friend pushed.

“Because you need me, they need me.”

“Do we really need you or is it you that needs us?”

You frowned at him, not understanding his words. “What do you mean by that, Min?”

He laughed, nose coiling up cutely as he did so. “You have been stealing all your life, it’s all you know how to do. It’s familiar.”

“I do not see where you’re going with this.”

“You love him and you want to go with him but you’re scared.”

“Of what?”

“The unknown.” Minhyung gestured to all the riches you’ve stolen gathered by your feet. “This is all you’ve known but wouldn’t it be nice to do something more?”

“But this is all you’ve known too, Min,” you countered defensively.

“True, but by working with Prince Chansung, I can broaden my horizons.” There was this proud glint in his eye. “I can help more people. And you—”

“And me?”

“— you can finally be free to see what’s out there just like you’ve always dreamed of doing with nothing holding you back.”

Your friend grabbed hold of your hand, his larger one clasping over your own. Minhyung’s grip tightened around your palm to reassure you. “You can be selfish for once, to think only of yourself, and it will be perfectly fine.”

“Min, I want to be selfish but I’m frightened of everything— life beyond the walls and forest. What if everything out there is not what I think it is? What if I’m not prepared to leave this familiarity?”

Minhyung whispered your name as you began to spiral down a road he could not follow.

“And being in love with a prince for that matter! Love could be fleeting. Any given day after I leave with him, Yuno may not want me. He could turn his back on me and leave me to die. He has options, Min. I, for one, am not that lucky.”

Your friend squeezed firmly on your shoulder before reaching down to take hold of your hands. He crossed your arms over your chest and placed each hand on a shoulder, leading your fingers to tap against your skin. Minhyung encouraged you to follow along as he began to guide you through deep, calming breaths.

As your heart rate and thoughts began to settle, you wondered when Minhyung grew up to be the strong boy who stood beside you.

“Life is frightening. We know that more than anyone, flying by the seat of our pants,” Minhyung said with a chuckle of his own. “It’s alright to be scared of the unknown but it should not stop you from living your life the way you wish to live it.”

As you took another breath, you nodded to acknowledge his words.

“Do you want to live a life with the Crown Prince?”

“More than anything in this world,” was your firm reply.

Minhyung grinned at you, “Then that should be enough. Your love will be enough.”

Tugging him into a hug, you tucked your head into the crook of his neck. The act of affection was a “thank you” you cannot express with words. You only hoped your friend would understand the meaning behind the gesture. Luckily, with years of experience being your partner-in-crime, the young Minhyung was able to between the lines.

“Will you be alright?”

“Of course,” he said, placing a faint kiss against the crown of your head. “You’ve taught me everything I need to know.”

Minhyung, the younger and more energetic one of your thieving duo, ran ahead of you into the clearing to make the first drop of goods. You laughed at his excitable demeanor— you knew he would be the person you would miss most once you hightrailed out of the kingdom. He was the only family you had left but there he was, happy that you were finally setting yourself free.

The upward curve of your lips dropped when you heard his voice yell out for help. Heart racing, you let go of your sack, legs running faster than ever before to come to your best friend’s aid.

Once you caught a glimpse of him, your heart dropped to the floor, right by your soiled and tattered coverings you called shoes.

Minhyung was fighting against the hold of the strong guards that always chased your tail. His hands were handcuffed in chains and tears were running down his sunken cheeks as one guard repeatedly abused his small frame. You screeched at the vulgar sight unfolding before you— your little brother was being beaten to a pulp.

Three rough strikes to the stomach was all you could witness before you went flying towards him, hands outstretched to catch him as his body fell to the floor. You never reached him, another pair of guards preventing you from doing so. They immediately cuffed you and pulled your struggling frame towards them. Your shouts and frantic cries for the injured Minhyung were hushed when a restricting feeling took over your vocal chords.

Opening your mouth, you tried your best to make a sound but you found yourself mute.

A horrifyingly disturbing laugh came from behind the trees and you scuffled to find the source through your tears. The tall and sleek figure, dressed far too nice to be caught in these parts, approached you with the most evil smirk. Her back was straightened, chest puffed out, and head held high with pride as she used the tip of her staff to lift your head.

“So you are the one who caught the crown prince’s eye,” the figure said, her voice as piercing as her glare. “The little thief.”

“You,” came your choked reply as she released the spell she casted on you.

“Oh, so you know of me?” she laughed haughtily. “Say my name then, child.”

Refusing to do what she said, you turned your head to look at the unconscious Minhyung who was slumped across the grass.

“I said,” she hissed, using her hand to force your gaze back at her. “Say my name.”

“Rowena,” you growled. “What do you want from me? I have nothing you want.” Her sharp nails dug into your skin and you winced at the pain. The royal advisor clearly did not appreciate your snark.

“That is where you are wrong, my sweet child,” Rowena almost purred back. “You possess the thing I long for most.”

You scoffed at her answer. “And what would that be, witch?”

“Be careful with your words, street rat. I can end your friend’s life in an instant if you fail to hold your tongue,” a nail scratched your cheek, leaving you with a new cut. A thin stream of blood flowed down your face, dripping onto your tattered clothes as Rowena watched amusingly. “You are in possession of Prince Yuno’s heart when it was destined to be mine.”

You fought the urge to laugh, “You are doing this out of jealousy?”

“Hold your tongue, riff raff. You forget who is in control here, I can easily command my men to strike another blow on your poor fri—”

“No!” you yelled, cutting Rowena off, suddenly desperate to get on her good side. “Don’t hurt Minhyung; he has nothing to do with the situation!”

Minhyung weakly called your name and you ignored his cries.

“But he is a thief and it is a great crime to steal in this kingdom,” Rowena drawled on teasingly, like a cat playing with a hopeless mouse.

“No, please,” you begged. “You mustn’t hurt him.”

“Then you must do something for me in return, peasant,” Rowena laughed at how easily she had you wrapped around her finger. You appeared to be strong, but your overly selfless heart was weak.

“I will do anything you ask me to if you leave Minhyung alone,” you petitioned. You couldn’t let anything happen to Minhyung— he was the only family you had left. “He’s a brother to me.”

Minhyung’s head shot up at his new title while he gasped for air. Locking eyes with him, you smiled painfully. He was always at your side, protecting you when he could. Now, it was your time to protect him.

“I will let the boy live if you come with me without a fight,” Rowena schemed, grin growing wider by the second. She had you in the palm of her hands. “He is of no importance to me.”

“He is of the utmost importance to me,” you said, the familial love seeping through your veins. Though physically far apart from him, you hoped he could feel the love you had for him. Minhyung violently shook his head, as if to tell you not to go. He refused to let you sacrifice yourself to let him live, you had done enough for him as is.

“I will go with you, Rowena. Just allow me a moment to say my goodbyes.”

The guards holding you and Minhyung back looked at their commander for an order. With a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand, you and your friend were freed of your confinement. You quickly shuffled to your feet and Minhyung fell into your arms as you sunk to the ground.

“Oh my stars, Min,” you sniffled as you took him in. Sandwiching his fallen face in between your hands, you stroked his cheeks and pushed back the strands of hair that stuck to his sweaty forehead. “Please tell me you’re alright.”

“I’ll be alright if you stay here with me,” Minhyung replied with tears welling up in his soft brown eyes. Minhyung was always the crier between the two of you. He cried more at your mother’s death than you did but this time, you let your tears cascade down your cheeks, knowing this was the last time you would see your best friend.

“You know I can’t do that. I can’t let anything happen to you, you have gotten yourself hurt because of me,” You gather enough strength in your shaking hands to squeeze his cheeks, something you always did to cheer him up. “I refuse to be the cause of your pain.”

“And I refuse to let you go,” Minhyung raised his hands to hold onto yours.

“I have made my choice,” you whispered harshly, “and that is to keep you and the others safe.”

You take a moment to hug the younger boy in your arms, trying to commit the feeling of Minhyung in your memory. Flashes of your best friend growing up by your side ran through your mind as your fingers stroked through his hair. Pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head, you shut your eyes and bit back a sob. “Do me one favor? Find your happiness, wherever it may be and never let it go, alright?”

When you released him from your hold, Minhyung whined at the loss of warmth.

“You’re my brother, Minhyung. I love you,” were your last words to your thieving partner before you turned away from him and his heart wrenching sobs and willingly stepped into your doom.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

What started off as secret meetings and stolen kisses in alleyways was ending with you chained to the floor of the palace’s throne room while your lover watched helplessly from the side. He screamed your name and struggled against the hold of his guards but you shook his head to silence him.

Stop, you begged in your head, make it stop.

The King and Prince Chansung did nothing to help you or their kin, only staring blankly at the chaotic scene unfolding in front of them. They had no choice; they were bewitched to be at the sorceress’ beck and call, just like the many guards that protected the kingdom. If only Prince Yuno had realized it sooner.

“Why are you doing this?” Yuno yelled, his deep voice booming throughout the large room. His harsh glare, a look you had never seen on him, was focused on the lady seated on his father’s rightful throne.

“Why?” Rowena echoed. “My darling prince, I did this because of you and your wish to renounce the throne for her.” Her extreme distaste for you was apparent as she hissed the last word.

She left her seat, leisurely sauntering over to Yuno with a smile as if it was a casual meeting when the situation was far from it. Rowena squatted down to reach his level and Yuno hastily turned his head to the side, refusing to meet her eyes. His jaw tightened and his teeth grinded against each other as she forced him to look her directly in the eye. “Marry me and crown me as your Queen. Only then will I let her go.”

Instead of answering the witch with words, he chose to spit in her face instead. “Never, you hag. You are not worthy of ruling Neiho, nor will you ever be.” Yuno’s voice was ruthless and unwavering, just as a prince’s should be. Even in a moment like this, your heart swelled with pride at his bravery.

“Long live King Chansung,” he jeered, which only set Rowena off. “He is the next, rightful ruler of the kingdom.”

“If this is how you want to play, so be it, Prince,” Rowena laughed in his face. The sound of her cackles made shivers run down your spine and cold sweat broke out in a number of places. You were scared of what was to come.

Using her staff to help her back up to a standing position, Rowena made her way towards you with a menacing stare. The curve of her lips grew wider as you flinched back in fear. You heard the clanking of metal chains as Yuno wrestled against the guard’s hold. “Don’t you dare do anything to her!”

“And what will you do, Yuno?” she threw back. “There is nothing you can do to help her now.”

Only a few steps from you, she points the end of her staff in your direction. A gleaming emerald jewel taunted you as you sucked in a breath. “You, peasant, have always given selflessly without expecting anything in return so selfless you will remain,” she started to say, a gust of wind bursted out the end of the jewel. It first surrounded her figure, then you, before spreading throughout the room.

A golden lamp appeared out of thin air, floating in front of your face before you felt the spark of dark magic course within you. It released you from your physical binds only to leave you immobile. A pair of gold cuffs materialized on your wrists and tugged you closer to the lamp.

“No longer will you be able to act selfishly for you are bound to this lamp and to these chains until a master wishes you free,” she explained. The taunting laughter that would soon haunt your memories echoed in your ears as ideas for a curse were thrown into the wind. “It will be at least two thousand years until you have the chance of seeing your precious prince again, that is, if Prince Yuno finds you first.”

“What? No!” Yuno howled across the room as you were slowly consumed by a dark cloud. Calls of your name were heard but you could not respond as Rowena began to chant,

“Golden lamp of antique old, Bind her body, mind, and soul. May she obey her master’s whim, Turn her future dark and grim. Freedom comes with just one wish Unless it is a true love’s kiss.”

The smoke spread throughout the room, leaving the surroundings in a haze. As the evil enchantress concentrated on the curse, the hold on the others in the room fell through. The king and Chansung snapped out of their daze only to watch the horrific separation begin to take place.

“Brother, what is the meaning of this?!” Chansung shouted to get his sibling’s attention, bringing an arm to shield his eyes from the powerful gusts. His father gripped at his youngest’s sleeve as the gale turned into a hurricane with you in the middle.

Yuno failed to hear his brother’s questions, eyes zoned in on you as your freedom was slowly stripped away from you. The sight of you crushingly accepting your fate tugged on his heartstrings. This wasn’t the ending he wanted for you. This was far from it.

"Remember me! You must remember me," he yelled over the commotion. You watched him struggle over the smoke as you cry out for him.

"How could I ever forget you?" you reassured him with a broken smile. You felt the tail end of your body being pulled inside your new cage and tried to fight the unbreakable force.

Yuno screamed your name once more. You locked eyes across the room, his dark orbs spinning with love and desperation. You wondered if your wet irises looked the same as his.

"I will find you! I will search until the ends of the earth until you are by my side again.”

You wanted to laugh at his hopeful optimism— how did love get you into this situation?

As much as you wanted to believe Yuno would find you, the situation was bleak.

Rowena’s body rumbled with a laughter so sinister, so piercing that you flinched at the sound as her dark magic ran through your veins. “I would like to see you try, my prince, but until then, you and the throne belong to me,” she sneered.

Ignoring the enchantress’ claims, his eyes continued to search for your disappearing figure. “I will come back to you, I promise!” Yuno’s deep voice rang into your ears.

“I hope you will,” you whispered a defeated reply back.

“If not in this life, then I will find you in the next! Mark my words!”

“Yuno…”

“In any version of reality, my darling, I will find you and I will choose you every single time. Do you hear me?”

You nodded vigorously as you choked back your sobs.

Just as the last bits of your being slipped through the spout of the lamp, Yuno broke free from the guards’ hold and rushed to your side. You reached out a hand and his fingertips grazed yours.

“Don’t forget me,” he mumbled through choked up sobs. His shaking hands grabbed at the dreaded lamp, clutching it to his broad chest like it was the most precious thing on earth.

The sight of him so desperate before you was reminiscent of the star-crossed lovers you heard about during your younger years, the ones that ended in the worst of tragedies. You pondered if this was your own personal tragedy, if this particular scene would haunt you for the rest of your cursed life.

You exchanged one last glance. One last touch.

Your hand clutched his cheek like it was made of the most fragile glass and the pad of your thumb stroked his soft skin. Yuno leaned into your touch, wanting to soak in his last moment with you. A spark flickered the place of contact, a sizzle of bright dust oozing from your fingers— your first dose of magic and you couldn’t even use it to keep him by your side. A glittering tear fell from your cheek and landed on his skin.

It was then you muttered your last words to the man who claimed your heart before being completely tugged into your golden cage, “As you wish.”

author’s note. hello, my darling readers! i know many of you have been waiting for this release for the longest time. this is the first of three (or four) parts. this part has been done for quite some time now; i’m just struggling to get the rest of it out.

but i thought it was too good of a story to just sit there in my google docs. i had this need to finally put part of it out into the world so here we are! i’ve been writing this since october and i would like to thank the many people who have helped me with the plot so far: kira, my chaotic gc, allex, and joyce!! ily all!! <3 this is for you!!!

part two is finished and i’m in the process of editing it! will it be out soon? who knows?

taglist. @rindomo @yshbaewenjun @hannie-dul-set @itsapapisongo @babyyynatty @notnctu @w0nni3wrld @yuta1forme @lucyinthesunshinee

i lost my original copy of the taglist so i’m sorry if i missed people! (especially since it’s been so long!) please let me know if you would like to be added to the list for future parts!

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #jung jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #as you wish

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kingfritzhater · 3 years

Text

If they lived...

AOT headcanons of how different ships would live if they were still alive.

Manga Spoilers!!!

Eruri:

They move outside of Paradis, Erwin always wanted to know if there were humans outside the walls and now he wants to know how different their lives are from what he knows.

Once they settle down and Levi opens his teashop, Erwin offers to help but Levi won’t allow him as he thinks the tea he makes is horrendous, in the end, Erwin manages the money and Levi takes care of the rest.

They still spend a lot of time with Gabi and Falco, Gabi always insists in moving Levi’s wheelchair (since Erwin is still missing an arm), and Falco adores listening to Erwin’s stories about the survey corps and life inside the walls.

Eremika:

They live hidden in Paradis, they built a little cottage in one of the giant tree forests outside of where the walls were and are very careful to stay hidden, Eren feels guilty that Mikasa has to live hiding like she was when her family was prosecuted by the government, but she doesn’t care, she still has him and their friends.

The remaining members of the alliance visit them pretty often, bringing them gifts from all around the world, Armin sends them books and pictures of the places they visit by mail every time he can.

Many years go by, and Eren still can’t believe that this is his life, the day he notices some grey hairs and wrinkles in Mikasa’s face he starts crying from just the realisation of how happy he is to grow old together.

Levihan:

Hange is pretty sad when titans stop existing, so to make them happy Levi helps them get their hands on any scientific information that the outside world has developed, no matter how much it costs.

Hange switched their passion for titans to the works of the human body (and they almost fainted once they found out about germ theory), so Levi became their test subject for any time she wanted to test something that they read in some book.

Hange makes it their life purpose to find a way to make Levi be able to walk again, and after coming up with a pretty good prototipe some previous members of the military come asking for help for their missing limbs, so now they make prosthesis for free to anyone who needs it.

Nicosasha:

They open a restaurant in the countryside, Sasha plants a garden to get fruits and vegetables and hunts for the meat and Niccolo does the cooking.

When Niccolo decided to propose, he asked her father for his approval, what he did not expect was having to get the approval of Jean, Connie, Mikasa, Historia and Levi, the old captain was just as terrifying in a wheelchair as he was before.

They usually babysit Historia’s child since they live pretty close and they get along pretty well, the first name she learned how to say was hers, though it sounded more like “asha”, Sasha will always brag that she is the best aunt in the world.

Yumihisu/Yumikuri:

The baby still exists, but the farmer is just a way to keep Historia safe, yet Ymir still finds similarities between them and jokes about if Historia isn’t sure that she isn’t hers.

Ymir always remembers how she didn’t even have a name as a child, so now every achievement of their daughter is recorded, in fact, she asked Historia to get her a camera from the outside world to be more efficient in this task.

They both are the kind of parent that likes to show off their child to anyone who will listen, no matter how ashamed she gets.

Mobuhan:

They never settle down, both travel the world discovering new places and wonders, it started when Onyankopon invited them to his homeland and now they can’t stop, unintentionally they’ve done more for Paradis’s international relationships than anyone else just by making friends wherever they go.

Moblit proposes out of the blue, even taking Hange by surprise, they were visiting some place and Hange looked the happiest they’ve ever been and with the excuse of looking for something he left, Moblit ran to the nearest jewelry store and bought a ring, asking the question that night, Hange said yes in tears.

Their wedding is the biggest event Paradis has seen in recent years, even when the current military does not like them they can’t do anything without risking a major international conflict, specially with so many important figures present.

Reibert:

They move away from Libero, Bertholdt’s father had died, and Reiner’s mother being there hurt him too much, so they go back to Paradis, enjoying their lives away from the city.

As a way to silently pay back to the people of the island, and also due to Reiner’s love for children, they often volunteer in orphanages or help local schools and families, it does not take them long to adopt a boy and a girl.

Gabi and Falco visit them constantly, Gabi is the only way Reiner keeps contact with the rest of his family and she adores their children, Falco almost fainted when one of them called him uncle.

Jeanmarco:

Marco lost an eye in Trost, even then, they both join the survey corps as a way to honor their lost comrades, any time he sees Marco during a mission Jean worries that he won’t be as lucky this time, and that Marco might die that day.

They were horrified when he discovered how deep the corruption in the military police went, more Marco than Jean, so once Historia becomes the queen they offer all the advice they can give about reforms to the military.

Post rumbling, they both settle down in a nice house where once was wall Sina, now tired from the battle, the only missions they do are negotiations between Paradis and the rest of the world, they are the first to retire.

Kenuri:

Uri punches Kenny in the face when he discovered that he hid the fact that he had a nephew and abandoned him, it took a week of Kenny begging for Uri to talk to him again, now he adores Levi and finds it amusing how similar he is to Kenny.

They both love Historia and try to help her in any way they can with her labours as queen, Uri gives her advice and helps her to gain the trust of many important figures in Paradis and Kenny takes a more aggressive approach, threatening to kill anyone who questions her authority.

When Historia’s baby is born they go in full grandfather mode, once they met her they could not stop crying and at one point Uri had to try to take her away from Kennys arms, a pretty difficult task due to their height difference

Petruo/Auretra:

They've been together for years, but only told their families after the female titan arc, Petra’s father felt pretty embarrassed about his earlier conversation with Levi, but didn’t tell their comrades as they felt pretty shy about it.

After the battle of Shiganshina Auruo proposed to her in front of everyone, holding a ring that belonged to his mother and had been holding on to for months now, the only one that wasn’t surprised with this was Levi.

Petra asked Levi to make a small speech at their wedding, which he surprisingly agreed to do, when he did he talked about how he knew Auruo liked Petra from the moment he saw them and how jealous he would get, and would intentionally assign them to the same tasks together by themselves so one of them finally dared to confess, by the time he returned to his table, both of their faces were completely red.

Mikenana:

While Mike managed to hide from the best titan and come out unscarred, Nanaba was not so lucky, losing one of her legs at Utgard Castle and having to retire from the military.

During the uprising arc, Mike joined the new Levi squad and went into hiding, Nanaba became essential to collecting information behind the scenes, as she could easily go under the radar, so she stayed with Hange and Moblit.

When Mike returned from the battle of Shiganshina, Nanaba ran to him in her crutches and jumped into his arms as soon as she was close enough, and didn’t let go until she could convince herself that he really survived.

Hilow/Hitchmaru:

Seeing as her efforts to convince him to not join the survey corps were failing, Hitch just directly confessed her feelings to him as a last effort to save him, Marlowe told her he felt the same way, but he knew his destiny was with the scouts.

Both Marlowe and Floch survived the battle of Shiganshina, when Floch starts talking very sharply to the families of the deceased Marlowe shuts him up, when Hitch asks him why he is so determined to stop him he says “Imagine if I died and he said those things to you”.

Marlowe is captured by the jaegerists and couldn’t join the alliance, once Hitch manages to free him he expresses his frustration with not being able to go to battle, yet he is still happy that he does not have to leave Hitch one more time.

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

Of Academic Interest

Fandom: Indiana Jones

Collection/Series: Tribute to/Part of @alloftheimaginesblog ‘s ‘Secret’s Out’ Saga world.

Pairing: Indiana Jones x Plus Size Female History Lecturer Reader (Glasses are mentioned very briefly)

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: T

Warnings: N/A

Summary: You’re one of the newest history lecturers and Indiana turns up to watch your open lecture on the Cult of the Beautiful Dead

Notes: I love Angela’s Secret’s Out Saga, i’m happy that I get to send her requests and see the amazing things she writes for it and lately i’ve been getting the urge to write something for the world/au/series.

This is a homage, a tribute, to it, obviously none of this is canon unless Angela says so.

This is set before Indy and the Reader are dating.

All facts come from an essay I did at university on the Cult of the Beautiful Dead, which I also did an hour long presentation on.

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You were relatively new to the history department at Marshall College and were somewhat of a novelty to students and staff alike having only been there for a few months. Being one of the few female professors and on top of that specialising in some more taboo or ground breaking historical takes on the history of gender and sexuality, you had successfully caused quite the stir.

The majority of your colleagues were accepting, happy to have you and generally interested by your studies and research. Despite being relatively new to academic teaching they were supportive, although there was a small subsection of the humanities department who, in typical old man fashion, talked down to you, treated you like a coffee girl and disrespected your expertise. You had taken to stealing their students from their modules and attracting them to your modules instead as a passive form of fighting back.

Students were clamouring to be taught by you, to get onto the list for your modules or to get to see your open lectures. You were the only member of the faculty who talked about the more riveting elements of history such as prostitution, sexualisation, and even ghosts. In comparison to the same lectures on Anglo-Saxon England and the Civil War, you were significantly more interesting to the student population. That did not, however, remove sexism within the student population. While female students actively enjoyed your lectures, got involved more so than in other modules, and felt a sense of comfort in a more female friendly space, you found that a small portion of the student male population tried at every turn to either explain your own specialism to you or to discredit you. You had long since taken to finding it rather amusing, especially when most of those individuals were failing your course.

You had been asked many months ago to prepare an open lecture on the history of surgery and medicine, the faculty head had told you to pick any topic you wished so long as it was well researched and you could put on a good lecture for the student population. For some it might well be their first ever history lecture, for others it was just an addition to their usual workload, nonetheless you’d chosen a topic that was of interest to you and that you felt confident presenting.

Standing before a podium in a large lecture hall, you push your glass further up the bridge of your nose and flick through the pages of notes in front of you to temporarily distract yourself from the crowds of people that were slowly making their way inside and to seats. It was a large hall, one that could hold upwards of 200 people and despite years of public speaking under your belt there was always an anticipation, a sense of nerves, before you began a lecture or presentation.

You checked the microphone on the podium, happy to find it in working order and smiled at a few familiar faces in the front row, some of your students who had apparently decided to spend their free period listening to you talk some more. Checking the time you waited a few more minutes before choosing to start, letting the last stragglers find a seat or for those unlucky enough to stand at the back after all seats were filled. It was a large turn out and you could feel those nerves buzzing in the pit of your stomach as you cleared your throat and picked up your notes.

“Good morning, everyone! Thank you for coming despite your busy schedules to hear me drone on once more about dead people,” Light laughter and small chuckles filled the space as you began, your students looking at each other with a shake of their heads. “Today i’m going to be talking to you about something called the Cult of the Beautiful Dead in Victorian medicine. Specifically surgery.”

You find yourself drifting from the podium, pacing across the stage even as this requires you to speak louder without the microphone. There is a familiar energy in your body that demands you move as you speak, to expend it in some physical way. “The Cult of the Beautiful Dead pervaded the world of art within the 18th and 19th centuries. It has been defined as ‘a subjective fascination with idealised images of the deceased in such a way that permanently embalmed bodies and stable images displace and replace impermanent reality’, but I would characterise it within medical and surgical art somewhat differently.”

You stop briefly, give yourself time to breathe and them time to process your words, in that brief moment your eyes glance across the crowd and spot a familiar face that makes your cheeks warm and your heart stutter. Professor Henry ‘Indiana’ Jones Junior.

Professor Jones was known throughout the history and archaeology department for his digs, his finds, and his immense knowledge, that and his good looks and charming persona. He was friendly, enticing, handsome, and treated you as an equal. While you could not consider yourself friends, you did have a healthy respect and rather decent crush on the man. In fact, the only reason you weren’t friends, you suspected, was your inability to talk around the man without stuttering. He had no reason to be at your lecture, but he’d come anyway, in fact it looked as if he were the only member of the archaeology department present.

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away and continue, “It is the idealised image of the female body on the dissection room table or the surgical bed with her flowing hair, her soft, pale skin, her perfect, unharmed nature and her sexualised passivity which characterises the Cult of the Beautiful Dead within medical art. On your seats you would have found copies of a painting by Henri Gervaux and an illustration by Hasselhorst, I will be talking today about these pieces of art and how they fit in with the realities of the dissection room.”

You move across the stage again, wait as they find out their papers and find yourself looking over at Dr Jones again. He is intent in his observations of the papers in his hands, interested, actively engaged and that is a bigger compliment than anything you think. It would be heartbreaking, you decide, if he were bored by or disinterested in your lecture. While you don’t need his approval, you are an academic in your own right, you do desire it.

You continue on when he looks up, shifting your eyes away quickly, “In the 19th century women were less likely to be patients of surgeons than men and even when they were operated on they were by no means symbols of the Cult of the Beautiful dead. See Before the Operation by Henri Gervaux,” You wait for them to find the print of the painting, “It is a portrait of Dr Pean, a French Surgeon, and depicts the moment before an operation on a young woman and fits into the ideal of the Cult even though the woman is anaesthetised and not dead.”

In this fashion you continue your lecture, moving across the stage discussing the sexualisation of the female body in medical art and the realities of surgery in comparison. You’re highly aware of Dr Jones’ eyes on you as you move across the stage, to the point that you stumble at points in your oration. As time goes on you find yourself relaxing under his gaze, accepting that he is here purely out of interest, not to judge you or pass criticism. His active engagement with your lecture, the notes you can see him scribbling down in a notebook, is rewarding and reassures you that he is enjoying himself even on a topic so far removed from his own studies of ancient civilisations and centuries old artefacts and skeletons.

You reach the end of your lecture, returning to the podium and straightening your skirt, “Are there any questions?”

Hands pop up across the room, but it is one in particular that you are drawn to. You don’t expect him to ask questions, you don’t expect him to have any, but you are a little scared to hear what he has to say. It shouldn’t scare you, this active academic engagement, the meeting of minds, but you so desperately do not want to make a fool of yourself.

“Dr Jones?” You gesture for him to go on and ask and he stands in response. Tugging at the tweed waistcoat and adjusting his glasses on his nose.

He smiles at you as he begins, “Dr Y/L/N,” He addresses you by your title, formal and respectful. You are reminded, once more, that he has never failed to treat you as an equal. Unlike some of the other male professors, “I was just wondering what your opinion was on the eroticisation of death in this period?” You let out a little laugh, for no reason other than a little relief at the ease with which you can answer that question.

“Thank you for your question Dr Jones, well art such as Hasselhorst’s helped to eroticise death in the 18th and 19th centuries, death became equated with beauty, even if the reality of the dissection room failed to live up to the standards of the Cult of the Beautiful Dead. What we see is death portrayed often as a young woman. She is often portrayed as beautiful with long flowing hair, a fair face, a soft pale body, naked, open to the eye and most importantly passive. The dead woman in this period is a passive object, dead, yet sleeping, immortally captured at her most beautiful and unable to object to any sexualisation or objectification. She cannot talk back. Death is an obsession of the Victorians and it’s prevalence in medical art like Hasselhorst’s shows just how deeply connected death, beauty and the erotic became at this time.”

“Do you think we’ve continued that desire for passivity today? The way in which we expect women to act?”

“What do you think, Dr Jones?” You turn the question back on him, eager to hear his opinion, knowing that your own certainly sees the way 1930s society demands passivity from women even if death is no longer eroticised in the same way.

“I think we’ve perpetuated that desire for passivity from women within our society, demanded they hold their tongue, keep themselves in check and in place and as objects of desire, but not too much or else they’re no longer respectable. I think we expect women to be passively sexual, unknowingly so, innocently so, yet they must be attractive else their worth is diminished. An outspoken or intelligent woman is demeaned, pushed out from academics or workplaces. Don’t you agree?”

“I do.” You take a moment, give him a smile before answering the next question and the next and the next. You expect him to leave like many of the other members of the audience once his question has been answered, instead he stays, listens to your responses to each question and pays you rapt attention.

You find yourself even more interested in Dr Jones than you were before. His acknowledgement of the treatment you and other women have faced when attempting to make a name in a career or in academics is refreshing and his engagement with your lecture is enjoyable and endearing. You curse him a little for making your crush, your infatuation deeper simply by coming to your lecture.

You find yourself packing up your notes at the end, listening to the sound of feet leaving as you grab your notes and stuff them into your leather satchel. A tall shadow falls over you as you heft the bag onto your shoulder and you smile up at Dr Jones as he stands before the podium notebook in hand, he folds the glasses off of his nose and pockets them.

“How did you enjoy the lecture, Dr Jones?” You run an anxious hand through your hair and twist your wide hips in a nervous movement, always finding yourself a little flustered when one on one with the man. There’s a part of you that worries about coming under scrutiny from him, the part that has so often been judged in life for your gender, your area of study, and your weight. Years of nasty comments, suggested diets and family obsession with the size of your body had created a paranoia almost, a sense of expectation. You were just waiting for the scrutiny to be voiced.

“It was one of the most interesting lectures I've had the pleasure of watching. You should write a book, it might be a worthy next research project and please call me Indiana.”

“Only if you call me by name. I think we can both drop the doctor? I wasn’t expecting to see you here, I...I didn’t think the Victorians would interest an archaeologist.” In truth the idea of Indiana Jones wanting to learn about people not long dead, a period which rarely requires archaeological excavation and has few true mysteries, had never crossed your mind.

“In all honesty?” There’s a pause as he looks away from you with a charming smirk before turning back to you, teeth showing through his smile. “You interest me. I’ve read all your books, all your papers, every time you lecture I stop at the door and listen. You’re a compelling orator.”

“You listen to my lectures?” You can feel warmth flooding your cheeks, your neck, your ears at his admission. Feel a familiar sense of butterflies flapping about in your stomach. You look down briefly, smiling at the ground before meeting his blue eyes again.

“When I have time, surprised you haven’t noticed me hovering in the doorway. You really are one of the best academics I've ever met.”

“I...thank you.” You’re a little lost for words, you have barely shared more than a few polite conversations with Indiana, too intimidated to talk in depth with him and yet here he is extolling your values and praising you.

“Don’t let Dr Carr convince you otherwise.” He taps his fingers in a rhythm on the wood of the podium, looking away from you and towards the door where you can see the much older Dr Carr standing waiting impatiently for you to leave the room for his next lecture.

“You heard...the other day.” You think back to the argument you’d gotten into with the old professor over his sexist attitude towards you, his constant demeaning comments. You had thought it had been a private argument, but it seems not. You were still rather angry about the whole thing in truth.

“Yeah, look he’s old school. Doesn’t think women should have degrees or PhDs, ignore him. You’re a better academic by far and he’s just angry that he’s been passed over for the chair again. He’s a washed up old academic, he’s only still got a job because the Dean feels bad for him.” He says the last part loudly, on purpose you’re sure, loud enough for Dr Carr to hear and turn a glare on him. You know he won’t say anything to him though, Dr Jones was the university’s prized archaeology professor, he brought in more artefacts than the other’s combined and more students. Dr Carr wouldn’t say a bad word against him. Couldn’t. It was enjoyable to watch the old fuddy professor go red in the face and huff at the doors.

“I don’t know what to say. I...Thank you. I know we don’t...we don’t really talk, but thank you, I. It’s been hard joining the faculty, it’s a very masculine environment and I...it’s nice to know there’s someone in my corner.” You think to your Grandfather telling you that academics would make you barren, cause you to go insane, think to your mother telling you to find a nice husband and settle down, that you should desire the life of a housewife alone. It has been very difficult simply getting this far and to know you have him in your corner, someone in your corner means a great deal, in a new city, a new job, a new career.

“Always.” The two of you stand there in silence, just staring at each other, despite the impatient noises being made at the door by Dr Carr. You grip the satchel strap tighter over your shoulder and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Would you like to get some coffee?”

“Now?” You don’t have any more lectures for the day, just your office hours later to answer any student questions, but the offer still surprises you.

“Yeah, I don’t have a lecture until later and...if you’re free I have more questions.” He holds up the notebook, little post notes coming out of the side, it’s thick from writings and usage. It flatters you that he’s so interested in what you have to say, in your mind. You think it might be more of a compliment than anything physical.

“So it’s entirely professional then, Dr Jones?” You’re not sure where the confidence comes from to cause the words to fall from your lips, to cause a little smirk to lift at them as you look at him over the top of your glasses. Flirtation is one area you are not confident in, despite it all.

“Well, I wouldn’t say entirely, sweetheart...I’d like to get to know you better.” He’s utterly too charming for his own good you think and too charming for your poor little heart, but despite any concerns you have, any worries about his intentions you still find yourself agreeing. You’ve wanted to get to know him better for so long, too scared to talk to him in more than passing that you can’t let this opportunity pass you by. Refuse to.

“That sounds...lovely.”

“Shall we?” He offers his elbow out to you and you take it, wrapping your arm through his and pulling yourself to his side. He is taller, broader, and warmer than you. He smells woodsy and a little like black coffee and everything about this moment has your heart skipping a beat.

“We shall.”

You take great pleasure in the dissatisfied sneer on Dr Carr’s face as the two of you walk arm in arm out of the lecture hall.

----

Taglists:

@charradelange @belfry-bat @gabile18 @beccaboo929 @trasheater

#plus size reader #secret's out saga #alloftheimaginesblog #indiana jones x reader #indiana jones #indiana jones/reader #female reader #female identifying reader #indiana jones reader insert #indiana jones readerinsert

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wyn-n-tonic · 3 years

Text

Oceans in the Desert

Word Count: 1,176 Warning: This is a couple dealing with the loss of a child, that is the theme. It is softness wrapped in grief. I am including an author's note at the end because what I have to say can also be triggering and I don't want to put that just out here and potentially harm or isolate somebody. Anyway, if you're reading this I love you and if you continue on, I love you. But if this subject matter is too triggering? Guess what! I love you.

Gif by: @aomine-dajki.

He’s…changed.

Since losing the baby, he’s changed.

It shouldn’t be shocking, there are two people feeling this sudden absence and it is a fire consuming the tangled branches of their lives. But she is, at first. The hard exterior he usually sported had begun to soften. It always was around her. But everybody else? He was no longer the strong Din. And in her arms? He was completely shattered.

She’s changed too. Resolute in the belief that a loving and full family wasn’t where her role was meant to be played. She expected his face to change when looking at her. Imagined him twisting away from her. But if it changed at all, it was only with the gentle understanding of shared sadness.

Their grief came in unspoken shifts. Hers flowing freely in the light, an open book adding new chapters to the pages he knew so well. His came softly in the night, the darkness veiling him in the same safety of his uniform, allowing him to become free.

Life pattered on in a four-four beat and so, too, did their graceful dance. Families are torn apart every day and the world doesn’t stop. The world won’t stop for them either, it can’t. To process is to work. To tinker. To lead, not to lean. It’s always been like that, the orphan and the runaway. But where they used to hold themselves, they now hold each other.

He became reckless, helmet tossed to the side. He traded the armor for vulnerability, seeking a different kind of anonymity in the eyes of the world.

“I think I’m done with this,” he whispered, “Ana, I can’t do this anymore.”

Her breath caught behind the ever-present lump in her throat, forcing her upward in shock. She looked towards the rough outline of him at the edge of the bed, heart leaping forward as the gunshot signaling the start of the race rang heavy in her ears.

This is it.

“Din, I—“ What does she say? She never was a beggar but this is different. She wasn’t losing him too. “I didn’t mean for it to all fall apart like this. I didn’t mean t—“

“What?” He turns suddenly and cradles her tear stained cheek in his hand, his heartbeat radiating through his palms. “Stars, did you thin—“

But she’s already nodding into his hand, holding his wrist in a vice grip refusing to lose his touch. He’s a space heater and that warmth’s not lost in the gentle laugh that escapes him now. It’s the sweetest sound the living quarters have heard in weeks.

“No.” He’s pressing that soft pout to her forehead. “Never.” The tip of her nose. “My sweet girl.” Her lips.

Water wells heavy in relief on her lids but, still, she says, “I'm sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I—“ he pulls her to his chest and swallows hard, unable to keep looking into those big eyes still wild with the fear of fresh loss. “We are fragile. I should’ve chosen my words with care, I’m sorry. What I meant was that I can’t keep bowing out and acting like everything is normal.”

He stops, a ragged breath drawn into tired lungs.

“I don’t understand, Din.”

The quaking starts from somewhere deep within him, somewhere far below his sternum. Hollow where his soul should be, as if reaching in and seeking it out would produce nothing but empty air. The same vacancy has carved through her.

His tears fall like stars in the galaxy of her hair.

He waits five beats of his exhausted heart to steady himself before he speaks again, somehow softer, “I can’t continue to run and hunt and hide like this. I cannot keep living in transience and call that healing from my trauma and I won’t let you either.”

“You want a different life? With me?”

“I want a normal life. With you.”

“Din,” she’s pulling back, hands finding his face in the dim light, “What about the Creed? The Guild?”

He pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ears and when he speaks again, he is completely calm. Firm. Resolved.

“I will no longer be bound by rules I did not create.”

Her eyes are searching his, looking for a shred of doubt but there’s none to be found. His mind’s made up but, “Din, you’ve spent thirty-something yea—“

“Fuck the Creed, Ana. The only good thing they ever brought me was my family,” a ragged breath draws through him once more, “but they’re the reason we lost our son. I will not do this anymore. I will not do this to you anymore. We both deserve stability after what we’ve been through.”

The pad of her thumb runs across the curve of his cheek, the constant tears doing in weeks what usually takes years. Her man, her mountain of a man, has been reshaped in front of her. "Where will we go?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere green. I think he liked green.”

He nods, sadder still. “I think so too. I wish I could’ve asked him.”

“I wish for so many things, Din. I would’ve waited centuries just to hear his little voice. What do you think his first word would’ve been?”

He laughs again and it fills the emptiness of the room, of them. “Well, he spent all his time with us so my credits would be on, ‘Fuck.’”

Her laughter bubbles up, lilting in time with his as they imagine their sweet boy, beaming up at them with his little teeth and wide eyes.

“And the thing is, Ana,” he’s settling down, chest rising and falling at a normal pace now, “I wouldn’t even have admonished him. I wouldn’t have denied that boy a goddamn thing.”

“No,” she brushes his overgrown curls to the side, “neither would I. He had us wrapped around his finger the moment he came into our orbit.”

His heart visibly sinks, “Laughing makes me feel guilty.”

“Yeah,” she bites her lip and pulls him into her, allowing gravity to take them both to bed, “it makes me feel guilty too."

“I keep wondering if this pain will ever end and then, in fleeting moments, I forget there was ever pain to begin with. Then it hits me all over again because I don’t want to forget him.”

“No, my love, I don’t want to either. They say forgetting is the ultimate loss. I won’t let you do that.” She takes a deep breath as her fingers tangle into the wilds that have claimed his crown. “Promise me that you won’t let him slip away from me either.”

He pulls her closer, wringing out what little space is left between their bodies. Lips finding hers in the gentlest kiss as salt water mixes in the shared space of home, he whispers, “I promise you.”

One day, the pain may subside into a dull ache. One day, it may even go away altogether. But for now?

The sobs that shook their bodies could’ve filled oceans in the desert.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This was one of the hardest, most cathartic things I've ever written. I lost a child when I was twenty-two and I did it all by myself while surrounded by people who said they loved me. I wrote this the way that I did because it's how I wanted my ex partner to behave, I wanted him to care and cry with me and he didn't. His reaction made me believe that nobody else would care or cry with me either. I stayed silent in my grief for years. I used to feel like losing that pregnancy made me a failure but when I finally opened up about it the amount of love and support I received was everything that I had been craving. If you are suffering through this grief alone, I promise you that you're not and I hope that the people you are surrounded by give you the love and the care that you deserve. I hope that the people around you cry with you. You're not a failure, you never have been.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars #sir i am crying because i will never be grogu's mother #pedro pascal #loss #ofc #original female character #baby yoda

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wososage · 3 years

Text

It’s too much: USWNT x baby!Reader

Request: hope ur ok! if ur taking requests maybe baby r is from a rough city and grew up dirt poor and when the team finds out they shower her with gifts and r tries to not accept them but the girls won't let her

Word count: 1119

Warnings: maybe cussing

A/N: so i wrote a thing. i felt inspired this morning and then was actually able to make my brain think words. anyways i am alive and well. i know its probably been like a year since i have posted an imagine but i am finally in somewhat of a good place with life. hope you like it. send me messages i would love to talk to you guys. you can send requests but i make no promises about when i will write again.

A/N part 2: apparently i posted something in august but i do not remember that all

Y/N POV

“What’s the best present you have ever gotten for your birthday?” Sam asks.

“I dunno,” I respond just above a whisper, hoping she won’t hear me and will let it go.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Sam asks flabbergasted. “There has to be something that sticks out in your mind.”

“I’ve never celebrated my birthday,” I mumble while taking an interest in the carpet. “We just don’t have the money for it.”

Thankfully Sam realizes how uncomfortable I am and changes the subject.

“Wanna see pictures of Finn?” she asks excitedly. I look up and smile at her, giving her all of the response she needs.

---------------------------

“Why are you being so weird right now?” I ask Sonnett. “You like on a whole new level of weird right now and it is kinda freaking me out.”

“I’m not being weird you are being weird,” Sonnett says to me.

“What are you and the squirrel planning right now?” I ask with a lot of seriousness in my voice. “Both of you have been acting weird all afternoon. Now that I think about it the whole team has been acting weird. Even Alyssa looked like she was hiding something when I met her for crosswords today.”

Sonnett just shrugs.

“I think that the chances of the whole team acting weird are really low which means that it is you that is acting weird Y/N,” Sonnett says. “Did you sleep well last night? Maybe you should go take a nap, you will feel better when you wake up.”

“I slept fine last night,” I counter. “I’m gonna go homework and zoom my teachers who aren’t acting weird like the rest of you. Maybe I will even go talk to Vlatko, he seems to be the only normal person around here today.”

I end up in my room doing homework for a few hours before there is a knock on my door interrupting my focus.

“Sup,” I say to Becky who is standing in the doorway with a suspicious look on her face. “Not you too! Why is everyone being so fucking weird today?”

“Watch your language,” Becky says with a pointed look.

“Sorry,” I mumble sheepishly while looking at the ground in an attempt to avoid her eyes.

“Come with me,” She says giving no further explanation.

“Why dinner isn’t for another hour,” I explain. “I want to finish some more homework so I can hang out with people tomorrow since it is our free day.”

“You can do your homework later,” she says. “Right now you are gonna take a break and come with me.”

“Fine,” I say grabbing my key before following her. “Do I finally get to find out why everyone has been acting so weird today?”

“Everyone seems to be acting normally to me,” Becky says.

I groan and start to drag my feet.

“That’s because you are also acting weird. All of you ate something or drank something and now I am the only normal human being on this team. If you all turn into zombies I’m going to kill you.”

“Wow Y/N, that’s just rude. How could you just kill us like that? We are the most important people in your life.”

“If the zombie apocalypse happens. I am playing to survive not to be nice to my friends who were stupid enough to get themselves turned into zombies.”

“Alright Y/N, do you want to know why we have all been acting weird?”

“YES! I have been wanting to know all day.”

“Come on then,” she says while opening the door to the meeting room.

When I walk in everyone is in there and the room is decorated for a birthday party.

“Happy birthday Y/N!” Becky says while hugging me.

“How long have you guys been planning this?” I ask. “This is incredible.”

“Since before Christmas when you told me you have never celebrated your birthday,” Sam explains. “We want you to be able to experience the joy of birthdays!”

“Thank you, Sammy,” I say while giving her a big hug.

“Present time!” Sonny yells while jumping up and down.

Everyone sits down in a circle and I realize that there is a large pile of presents waiting for me to open. Way too many presents for me to be able to accept.

“I can’t accept this,” I say. “This is too much.”

“Kid, please accept these gifts,” Ash says. “We are your family and we want to do this for you. We know your home life isn’t that great so we wanna help out how we can.”

“Are you guys sure?” I ask. “That’s a lot of gifts.”

“We decided that each person is only allowed to get you two gifts,” Becky explains. “One of them is something that will make your life easier such as clothes or gift cards to get food when you are home and the other one is something we want you to have because it will make you happy.”

“We also decided to have some fun with this,” Sonnett says while bouncing around like a hyperactive toddler. “You have to guess who the gift came from after you open it.”

“What do I get if I guess them all right?” I ask as my competitive nature starts to come out.

“Bragging rights,” Becky says.

“Good enough for me. Time to prove that I know you all very well.”

Grab the first present and as soon as I unwrap it, I know who gave it to me.

“Thanks for the pride flag Pinoe,” I say. “Also, I already registered to vote this morning but thanks for giving me instructions on how to do it.”

I go through all the presents and then I get to the final one but before I can unwrap it, Becky stops me.

“Almost all of us chipped in for this present,” Becky explains. “I know you are going to say it’s too much but we want you to have this and if it helps you can think of this as something that benefits us as well as you.”

I unwrap the gift and realize it is a switch with a bunch of games. As soon as I see it I tear up.

“This costs so much money. I’ve been saving up to buy one but there is never a good time to be able to drop so much money on something. Are you guys sure about this?”

“Y/N, we want you to have this. We know how much you have wanted one. Besides now we can force you to play video games with us all the time.”

“I love you guys. Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #sam mewis #emily sonnett #alyssa naeher #becky sauerbrunn #Ashlyn Harris #Megan Rapinoe

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dennou-translations · 3 years

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Violet Evergarden Ever After: Chapter 2

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

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The Night and the Auto-Memories Doll

Everything went around.

From past to present and from present to future. The dead bodies that decayed within the soil would dissolve into the earth, and from the earth, too, would new living creatures be born. Within a few hours’ time, curtains made of stars and nightly shades would be covered over by curtains in the colors of dawn.

People went around as well.

Children would be born, muster out their voices, start walking and, once they became aware of their own selves, their stories would begin. A cycle of discovering passion, coming to know love, stopping to be children and, upon sympathizing with other families, birthing offspring just as their parents had done. A cycle of learning about the world, spreading information, teaching their knowledge to younglings without sparing any of it away and generating more such younglings. A cycle in which someone’s story was someone else’s encouragement, and those who were encouraged would conceive stories of their own.

Everything went around.

There was one cycle here. It was the story of a meager cycle that likely could happen anywhere in the world.

A man picked up a wild beast from a small island to which he had drifted. It was a beautiful beast, but it had been stocked with skills long before coming to his hands. Skills for slaughtering people with ease and seeking submission.

Their first meeting was terrible. His underling had attempted to lay his hands on the beast’s beauty. As if it were a given, the beast had killed his many subordinates, leaving only one person. That was him. Granting him both disaster and salvation at the same time, the beast had sought subservience in regards to the man.

The man fled around the island where all but himself had been murdered, but gave in and accepted the beast. The beast was useful, but also an existence that he could not handle. Be it morning, noon or night, his head was troubled with the beast, his heart unable to calm down.

Essentially, he was a man who did not want to be shackled by anything. After all, he had a past of being forced into submission by his household and parents. He had escaped from his responsibilities and his home, jumping off into the sea. The man, who had been born in a family that bore the name of a flower, had run away and gained freedom.

He yearned for it – for a freedom that no one could steal from him – more than anything. Even if he had to cast away his little brother for it. Therefore, the man had done the same in the beast’s case. The one who mattered most to him was himself. He wanted to break free from that horror. Most likely, he had cut off from himself a child in need of salvation.

Everything went around.

——O God, I want to .

Everything.

A voice that sounded like bells echoed.

“Captain,” it whispered, as if to tickle the man’s ears. “Captain Dietfried Bougainvillea.”

It was evening. A time when people were returning to their homes.

“What would you like to do?”

An orange light shone from the window inlaid with stained glass. With the sunset reflected on the elaborately designed interior decoration, the place itself looked like a single work of art.

“Could it be that, because of the impact earlier, your hearing has...”

It was supposed to be. The place where the person who called out so insistently and the person who intentionally ignored her were in was an art gallery that just recently had its interior and exterior finished.

“As if.”

“I am relieved. Then, I would like to ask if you have a plan.”

In a place they were not supposed to be at, the two who were not supposed to be together were kneeling on the floor in resignation.

“Captain.”

“.............................”

“The civilians are in a predicament.”

“................................”

“Captain Dietfried Bougainvillea.”

“............”

“What would you like to do?”

“..................”

“I would like to ask if you have a plan, by any chance.”

“.....................”

“The civilians are in a predicament.”

“........................”

“If I may offer my opinion, firstly, I could act as a decoy—”

“Be quiet, monster. Don’t keep repeating the same thing over and over. Don’t breathe either. I’m thinking right now.”

Dietfried Bougainvillea, a naval captain of Leidenschaftlich, eldest son of the Bougainvillea – a household of patriotic national heroes – and the man who had picked up Violet Evergarden in the past and brought her to this country, was covering his eyes with his hands due to having too much on his plate. The little bit of silence and darkness had brought him relief, but someone’s sobbing, the voice of a man reproaching it and the sound of a person being brutally kicked and tumbling down dragged him back to reality.

He had a severe headache. Whether it was caused by his anxiety or his injury, he had no idea. He put a hand on the back of his head and examined it, but only a bit of blood had come out.

In order to somehow spit such awful mood out of his body, he took deep breaths. He felt that he had become a little better, but the unpleasant sensation returned once he opened his eyes and cast his gaze at the woman next to him. A spoon of discomfort, rejection and fear each was thrown into Dietfried’s emotional vessels, set on fire and boiled up. However, the most prominent feeling was something else.

The woman who had been talking to him so insistently until a moment ago was now quiet just and not letting out a single breath as he had told her. Violet Evergarden.

Dietfried looked fixatedly at his former servant. The woman, whose appearance had transfigured considerably in comparison to when they had first met, bore a radiantly shining cold beauty, which was even more conspicuous under such tense circumstances. She was almost like an ice sculpture, Dietfried thought.

——Even though you used to stink like a wild beast...

She now smelled of nothing but flowers.

——...you turned out just as I’d imagined.

“You’re a siren.”

Silence.

“My little brother destroyed a train station just to keep you alive; you’re a siren through and through. I’m not into you, but my mental stability is wrecked right now, and I’m sensing the harmfulness and influence that your existence brings about in that. You’re unmatched when it comes to breaking things and causing problems.”

Dietfried had once told his brother that the beast could become a siren. He had meant to say so including all sorts of matters. This young woman named Violet was a creature that God had created by mistake and had not been born under a good star. When one was by her side, there were many of them.

“Damn troublemaker.”

Many problems. Even though she had not wished for it, she had been born this way. Under a star that attracted disasters.

——It goes round. All of it.

He ran and ran from her, yet they would end up meeting, thus Dietfried had started to think that it might be some sort of divine revelation at this point. Telling him to face the girl that he had thrown away.

Violet was still, hand on her brooch. He someway guessed that it was given to her by his younger brother. He felt like clicking his tongue. This girl might become the worst-ever wife whose hand his most beloved little brother was going to take.

——We can leave that for later; gotta overthrow this situation first.

Determined to fight this reality, Dietfried then turned his gaze towards the sight that spread out before his eyes. Women, men, elderly people – everyone was crouching on the floor with guns pointed at them regardless of anything. Obviously, the same applied to Dietfried and Violet.

Unexpected situations – situations in which they could not make a false move even if they were on their own, let alone in the presence of so many civilians – were responsible for this. On top of it, Dietfried was also saddled with someone that he had to protect despite not wanting to. Of course he would feel like clicking his tongue at it.

Perhaps they were thought to be lovers, as no one said anything even while they stayed close to each other.

“Hey, did you really stop breathing?”

She did not seem to be in agony, but her figure as she diligently obeyed made Dietfried feel uneasy.

“I was joking; breathe.”

Violet’s blue eyes blinked with a snap.

“Yes.”

And then, she finally let out a breath. Dietfried hated himself for being remotely relieved that she had safely started breathing again, was what he thought.

“Hey, you.”

“Yes.”

“From now on, follow my orders. Don’t act on your own accord.”

“All right.”

“I’m gonna save the civilians. It’s my duty. There’s no helping it, so I’m counting you in that math too... No idea what my little brother would do if he found out I’d let you die. Even if it weren’t on purpose, if anything that could kill you happened under these circumstances, I really have no way of knowing what he’d do. He’d probably hate me.”

“No, Captain, he—”

“Have some self-awareness, Monster. My foolish younger brother blew up a train station to let you live. This fact did turn into a subject of teasing towards Gil for no matter how much time passes from now, but if you think about it on normal terms, it’s out of the ordinary. That’s the way you’ve changed him. Damn witch...”

She was the tool that he had found and that used to exist for his sake. A woman who used to be a dog with no name. An orphan whom he had picked up from a solitary island, brought back with him, attempted to get the most out of yet was unable to, and then threw away.

Asset. Girl soldier. Automatic assassination doll. Witch.

——Even if I don’t want to, for now, I gotta protect this thing and take it home.

“I’ll save you, so you save me too, Witch.”

Fate went around, adding a chance meeting as the best seasoning for a finishing touch. After all, at this very moment, Violet Evergarden and Dietfried Bougainvillea were being attacked by robbers and had weapons thrust at them.

“That’s awfully unpleasant for me, but I’ll take action by considering your life to be the top priority. Not for you. For my little brother.”

Understanding that she had received permission to talk once she had received permission to breathe, Violet gave her own opinion, “No.” She did it directly, without any restraint. “No, that is my job, Captain. Major... Lord Gilbert loves you.”

Dietfried’s eyes blinked. Those green orbs were staring fixatedly at Violet since earlier, enough to seem like they would suck her in. They were green jewels in a different shade from his younger brother’s. Those green gems, enveloped in shock, reflected Violet’s serious gaze.

“I shall guard you, no matter what happens,” Violet declared with resolution, like a knight. “I will obey your orders to the best of my abilities, but if I judge it to be dangerous, I shall take action with your safeguarding as the maximum priority.”

“Hey.”

“I will definitely protect you and bring you to Major safely. Please do not leave my side, Captain.”

“That’s my line,” Dietfried said while nonetheless wanting to kill Violet.

For the exchange between the two to reach this stage, things had first begun when morning visited Leidenschaftlich. This might be going back much too far in time for a clarification, but it all had indeed started since daybreak.

The morning weather was overflowing with sunlight on that day – typical of Leidenschaftlich in early summer. Early rising ladies formed queues in the bakeries that opened at dawn and little birds flew about the shops’ surroundings to receive breadcrumbs. There was a café three stores away from one of the popular bakeries, famous for serving floral teas, its signboard girl preparing to open it. If one went further ahead, there was a bank, and round said bank, there was a main street lined with large-scale shops.

An art gallery arranged to open the next day had been erected on the main street. Its name was Artemisia. It bore the name of its owner, who was an artist.

The gallery Artemisia displayed the works of its proprietor, of course, but it also had works of artists from within and abroad Leidenschaftlich. There were rows of works from unknown young artists that the owner had taken interest in as well, devoted as she was to the cultivation of new talents.

The Artemisia Gallery, which was to become a place where novel forms of Leidenschaftlich’s art would be born, was scheduled to hold a pre-opening party today, attended only by the people concerned. The gallery’s staff had started cleaning its interior and the sidewalk in front of it from morning.

Around noon, a restaurant employee hired for the sake of that day had visited, bringing in wine, snacks and table sets. As for the dishes, there were two types: the ones that had already been prepared and the ones that would be made by borrowing the kitchen of the owner’s residence, which had been built on the gallery’s top floor. Since eating was not the main focus, the preparations were merely enough for the upcoming guests not to feel hungry.

As evening came, the inside of Artemisia began to speed up with haste. If there were anyone in command of such a scenery, they would likely be asserting with a baton: “hurry”, “faster”, “elegantly”.

An envelope closed with a wax seal bearing the establishment’s crest. Customers arrived one after another with the invitation taken from inside of it at hand. For a pre-opening party with a limited number of invitees, there was a large amount of people. The elect few of Artemisia’s employees were in a flurry of activity.

“Bring me a coat” here, “not enough drinks” there, a plate breaking somewhere. “Where’s the owner?”, “Got caught by the guests”. “There’s no one to give us instructions”, “Oh, well” – just like this, things descended into chaos behind the scenes.

Normally, their job was to calmly recommend artistic goods. Therefore, they were unable to hide their bewilderment at handling so many visitors at first. Nevertheless, if one looked at the guests being entertained, how were they? Appreciating the artworks, looking like they were having a blast. Upon seeing this, the employees were able to understand deep down. That “what, so things are the same as usual”. By the time that the customers were completely familiar with the gallery’s interior, the employees were able to show smiles with a little bit of ease.

Among the guests invited to Artemisia, a foreign body completely unrelated to this world was mixed in.

It was a woman. A beautiful one at that. From an appreciative viewpoint, there would be nothing to complain about if she were one of the artworks. She was clad in a ribbon-tie one-piece dress, snow-white as a flower in full bloom on a summer day. Her long, softly curved golden hair extended to her waist. Perhaps she had come straight from work, as she held a heavy-looking trolley bag on one hand. “Click, click,” knocked her cocoa-brown boots against the marble flooring each time she took a step.

She walked while observing every artwork one by one. Idyllic landscape paintings, abstract paintings that looked like silver ink spilled on pure-white paper, oil paintings in which the people seemed as if they would move at any moment. Glassworks and ceramics that one would be very afraid even to look at from nearby. At first, the exhibition was of works from artists renowned within the country, but the small hall of its latter half integrated displays from artists who were still nameless. The woman stopped in front of one such work.

A painting of whimsical fantasy. Was it a winter sea? It depicted various things falling and sinking into dark and cold water. A pocket watch, a feather, a bed, a knife, a white flower and a chair. All were worn-out and had damaged parts. At first glance, one would not know what it was expressing. Only the boy painted in the center seemed to pierce through the viewer.

He was still a teenager and his appearance could also be considered that of a girl. After staring at him for a while, the feeling that he was supposed to be saved would surface. Because the boy had a facial expression that almost looked like he was making eye contact with the viewer as he fell. But this could not come true. He was sinking in the picture. No one on this side could do anything. One would not know what to do with themselves after looking at it – it was that kind of picture.

“Excuse me; I was the one who painted this. Is there anything wrong with this painti...”

Suddenly, a voice called to the woman from behind. A rock thrown into the quiet atmosphere. A low tone that cut through the dimness of the room.

People were mostly heading towards the famous artists, so the woman had been all by herself on that spot until just now. The man who had showed up a bit late was coincidentally the creator of that fantastical painting, and found himself talking to the woman who had stopped in front of his art. That was an extremely natural encounter for a pair. If their positions, circumstances and everything else were different, something might have been born between them. It did not have to be romantic love, just something – something else that “the two of them originally had”.

“Captain Dietfried Bougainvillea.”

The moment the woman turned around, the space resounded with a loud squeak. It actually had not resounded, but at the very least, Dietfried heard the thump of his own heartbeat, which gave his whole body goosebumps. He was enveloped in a strange sensation, as if the blood inside him were flowing backwards. One of the things he had once evaded in his life was standing there.

“What’re you doing, Monster?”

Violet Evergarden.

Before the emerald eyes that Dietfried possessed, of a hue different from his younger brother’s, there was a young female Auto-Memories Doll. The reason why he had not recognized her from the back was likely that her golden hair was slovenly loose.

He had not had a chance to see her after she had become a grown-up ever since the incident during the Flying Letters. Only people who had great amount of interaction with each other would be able to tell such a thing just by looking at someone’s back.

“I was looking at the paintings, Captain.”

Violet was expressionless. However, her hand alone promptly searched for her emerald brooch and squeezed it.

“You, paintings? Can you understand them?”

First, a scornful laugh, and then a head start with a verbal attack. She needed to put up a defense line. After all, this girl was formerly a weapon. An automatic assassination doll.

“I cannot. It is just that... my eyes and legs stopped.”

She was the one and only woman that Dietfried feared. If he had run into anyone else, his emotions would not be so disrupted.

Dietfried was scared. This girl was terrifying.

“I caused you trouble last time.”

He knew the things she had done. He knew whom she had killed. And he also recalled how he used to treat her, telling himself that it was all right.

“By asking about Major.”

Because she was a monster.

——O God, I want to .

These words wandered about in his head. They were words that he had prayed in his childhood to the one that he would meet at some point – probably in his dying moments. Thinking back on it now, it had been a foolish, immature and helpless wish, but he was serious about it at the time.

Looking at this girl made him remember his embarrassing past self.

“I shall see myself out. Captain, please take your time.”

“Hey.”

Violet had decided to retreat from the place, putting it to action. She concluded that this would be a peaceful solution for both sides and that it would secure each other’s survival.

“Hey, wait.”

However, Dietfried still had something that he wanted to say.

At the call of restraint, Violet’s feet halted mid-step. She then gazed at Dietfried. “Why?” her eyes were asking.

Choosing to leave must have been her own way of showing respect. Considering the current and the previous relationship between two of them, it was a sound judgement. Hence, she stared at him presumptuous and mutely.

Even now, it pierced Dietfried. That quiet “why” perforated him.

Despite being the one who had told her to wait, Dietfried lost sight of his next words. He had tons of complaints. Rather, complaints were the only thing that ever came out of his mouth. Most likely, he had never presented any warm words or attitude to her. No, he had at least patted her head when they parted. But what about it? That was all he had done. Which perhaps was the reason why.

——What did you think of that painting?

Just a question like this was exceptionally challenging for him. If it were anyone else, he would surely be able to ask as easily as breathing. He could also boast that he was the one who had painted it. However, only with this woman was it so difficult.

A long silence drifted between the two. A truly long, long silence.

The mood was almost like two beasts had come across each other in the wilderness and were estimating which would attack first. Both were underdeveloped and, not matching their insides, only their appearances were actually full-fledged. Seen from the sidelines, they were a beautiful adult man and woman looking at each other, but the air flowing between them was that of a battlefield.

Dietfried was starting to sweat. As for Violet, even her breathing was becoming shallower.

Violet seemed to be thinking about something. She opened and closed her mouth, repeating it several times. What should she do in that situation? What was best? She was probably unable to decide. This was something that not just Violet but also Dietfried was thinking about, yet the degree of seriousness in behavior was surprisingly higher on Violet’s side.

She would normally not be like this.

He was the person that even Violet Evergarden, who had written so many letters, was at loss as to how to act around. That was the man called Dietfried.

Perhaps her thinking had eventually arrived to a conclusion, Violet left her baggage on the floor and put her hands behind her back. “Feel free to.”

At first, Dietfried had no idea what she was doing. Violet looked like she was offering her body.

“Ha...?”

Without hesitation, almost as if she were a tool.

“I am still. Feel free to.”

“Feel free to feast on my life,” she seemed to say. Her current self overlapped with the beast of the past.

“To do what, is what I’m asking...” Dietfried’s mouth felt sticky, giving him a hard time mustering words out. His head had been occupied mostly with how to mend the blunder that he had exposed to her, so he could not respond to Violet’s surprise attack immediately.

“Do you not remember? I used to do this whenever I had to receive reprimand or punishment.”

He could not. All of the information that had been fluttering about in Dietfried’s head until now disappeared. It vanished.

“You, what the...”

The owner of the blue eyes that stared at Dietfried as if to shoot through him always did unexpected things, tossing him about.

“I did not know how to speak back then, so in order to show that I had no intention to attack you, Captain, I would do this.”

Those eyes.

“No matter what I say, surely... there is no atonement for me. With time, I have come to understand the things I... did. And how much terror I made you go through. Nevertheless, I am grateful for the kindliness of placing me under Lord Gilbert. I wish to pay you back somehow. If you say that it is unnecessary, at the very least, do as you please.”

For whatever reason, when those eyes asked him “why”...

“Be it with fists or with reproach, as much as you want.”

...his chest ached as if it had been stabbed.

“Feel free to.”

If that place were not a quiet art gallery, Dietfried would have yelled furiously at her, without caring about shame or his reputation. He managed to ball his fists hard enough for it to hurt and swallow down his angry voice due to his high level of self-respect.

“I hate that about you...”

This girl always made him aware that she would never act as he expected.

“...to death.”

At the words spoken by Dietfried’s quivering tone, Violet took a step back. Her stance of offering herself did not change, but her instincts were on-guard, wondering if she was not going to be killed by this man. Seeing that, Dietfried sneered at her figure.

“You’re the one who could choke the life out of me anytime,” he seemed to say.

Dietfried suddenly felt the heat that had gone up his head cooling down. Violet had taken a step back. That became the trigger for him to regain his composure. Because he was able to reconfirm that she was but a child in the end. This innocent aspect and action that were much like what a child would show to an adult exerted a great influence on the other party. Dietfried loathed that.

For he, who despised interventions from anyone, had so much aversion to it that it make him want to vomit.

Those who were accustomed to oppression from others would very easily choose to hurt people. She was inwardly frightened of that tendency. Yet albeit frightened, she prioritized others over herself. That creature was like a mass of contradictions.

——Disgusting. Stop. Die. Don’t look at me.

He did not want to get involved with her. But he had a mountain of things to say. However, when it came to whether or not he could properly do it, even if he managed to squeeze them out, they would turn into nothing but abusive language.

There was a large lake between the two of them and all they could do was gaze at the opposite shore, unable to tell how deep it was. Their first meeting was to blame for that. It was the cause of everything.

His underlings had attacked her and she had killed all of them. She then chased and chased after him, making him into her master. Despite there being a hierarchy, Violet was the one who had a grip over his life.

One would understand, after spending time with the girl, that this was a necessity for her. She was always like that, ever since the island only the two of them knew. Whenever anything happened, she would prioritize Dietfried. After all, even as he handed her over to Gilbert, she had not resisted.

If anything could be changed, that was the moment.

The two who never mingled with each other met again countless times in a parallel line. On such occasions, they would become unable to make a move due to shouldering the truth of rejection and of the things they had done, thus running away.

——Gilbert.

What did the person who brought the two together, whom they loved most, thought of that?

“You... I...”

——If I could change for Gilbert...

“Captain...?”

——If I could change, right here and now, for your sake...

Would it be easier for him to breathe?

Just as Dietfried was about to make a bitter decision...

“GYAAAAAAAAAH—AAAAAAH—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

...an incident occurred.

It was clearly not a hasty crime. The scream of Artemisia, the owner, echoed, and by the time that Dietfried and Violet had bolted from the quiet hall where there was just the two of them, robbers were already thrusting their weapons mostly at vulnerable women and children, having them on their knees. The course of action was far too swift.

Wide-eyed, Violet swung back her trolley bag and was about to throw it at them, yet Dietfried stopped her.

“Are you stupid?! Those aren’t all adults that can run...!”

Among the hostages, there was also a little girl held under someone’s arms, looking like she did not understand the situation.

“I will save them as fast as possible and take control of the rest.”

“They’ve got guns; what’re you gonna do if they hit someone else with a warning shot?! There’s the other artworks too... This ain’t a stage for a tactless bastard like you to brawl! Just stay put for now!”

“But, Captain—”

“Stay put!”

While the two were trying to push past each other, the robbers took notice of them.

In the main hall, perhaps in order to bind people up through fear, the men were being beaten without exception, being put on their knees over the floor. Seeing that, the women naturally sat down, trembling, and began to cry.

While screams were resounding like music, one of the robbers headed towards the duo. “So there were still weeds growing here?” was the look in his eyes as he swung his firearm emotionlessly.

Dietfried would have managed to avoid it. He had done it several times until now. He could do it as easily as floating on water. If he could catch the man’s gun with one hand and pulled it just like that, he was able to picture the opponent falling over as a reaction. Once he stole the gun, he could shoot each member of the robber gang one by one in the head. And then, there would be a gunfight. He would have done that if he were alone. Yes, if he were alone.

——Why now of all times?

There was nothing more humiliating than a punch that one had to resign oneself into receiving. But he had things he had to protect above his own dignity. Thus, he accepted the attack without dodging. If he were to start a scuffle amidst the current situation, he did not think that all of the people who had become hostages would remain unharmed. He would aim for a chance. That was what he should do. He made such decision not only for his own welfare but also for that of other people.

However, the automatic assassination doll made a completely different one. When her eyes glinted like that, she quite literally moved on automatic. She came forward to take his place. In that instant, the face of Dietfried’s younger brother was the only thing crossing his mind.

——Gil.

It was almost as if he had readied himself to do it. That was how quickly his arm reached out. He forcefully embraced Violet and turned his back towards the robber. A violent hit struck him from head to back. He could hear Violet’s breath quietly catching while holding her in his arms.

And such was how they had arrived to the present.

Dietfried did not think that his decision to suppress Violet was a mistake. He was aware that she was the woman who had fought by herself against terrorists inside an exploding train, but it would be a problem if she did something of the sort in the Artemisia Gallery.

Right now, he felt like a pet owner containing the rampage of his mad dog.

As for the mad dog herself, she had grown quiet ever since Dietfried had been hit, as if her functions were gone. Dietfried had pushed away the hands that had attempted to give him first aid. Any false moves and the robbers might beat him again.

She, who always took upon herself to protect, wound up being protected. On top of that, she had let the other be injured. This must have caused her to fall into despondency, enough to result in service outage. However, with time, she had rebooted and was rousing herself up once more to get through this situation.

“I understand that I should refrain from the use of force in an art gallery. But should we not place human lives above the artworks?”

——Whose fault do you think it is that I got hit on the back of my head?

Because she was saying the most obvious thing with the most serious face, Dietfried grabbed the collar where her brooch resided, taking the brooch along, without thinking. The thread that fastened the ribbon-tie dress’s button let out a screech. It was not the kind of deed that a gentleman would do to a lady. But Dietfried did not loosen the strength that he put into his grip.

“You... Do you still need disciplining from me?” he said, voice filled with rage, close enough for their faces to touch. “Think of this as a place that can hardly compare to any other... This thing’s pretty important for you, isn’t it?”

After blinking with a snap, she opened her mouth once, then closed it.

Once Dietfried’s hand let go of her, she grasped the brooch as if to protect it. She was more concerned about the brooch than the crumpled bust of her dress. She stroked it over and over, making sure that it had not been damaged.

Finally, she whispered in a dazed state, “I understand.”

“As if an idiot could,” Dietfried said with a snort, yet the other was a poker-faced Auto-Memories Doll. No matter how much he hurt her, it would have no effect. That was what Dietfried had thought.

“I understood completely. I will avoid combat here as much as possible.” Alas, her voice sounded a little faint.

Dietfried stared at Violet from the corners of his eyes. The brooch was indeed important to her. She was holding it down with both hands. She did not want anyone to touch it – that was what she was indicating. The two of them were speaking in an awfully low tone, but her timbre just now was as thin as the cry of a mosquito.

Dietfried said with a somewhat softer voice, “Good that you get it. I’m indebted to the owner of this gallery. I’m gonna choose the best I can for her sake too.”

“All right.”

“Human lives are the priority, of course. But we’re not gonna fight in a stupid way.”

Like a child, Violet nodded repeatedly.

“You’ve only ever been doing body guarding, murders and military action, and that’s why you don’t understand. In the sea... In fleet battles, we fight to protect. Our way of thinking is different from those who fight to conquer.”

“To protect...”

“If you can’t put brakes on them at sea, the enemies go to land. The reason why Leidenschaftlich is called a military nation ain’t just the army’s achievement. I’ve... never taught you how to fight at sea, huh... For now, forget the method of destroying and taking control of everything. Learn from my ways.”

“Understood.”

Dietfried was inwardly surprised at the obedient reply. Rather, even more than this, he was surprised that he and the “beast” were able to have mutual comprehension.

When she was in his hands, this beautiful Auto-Memories Doll was a “wild beast” that did not know how to speak, as well as a tool. An incontrollable beast, to boot.

“Still, if that is how it is, please do not forget that your wellbeing is my top priority all the more. I shall fight to protect you, Captain. Please do not think of protecting me for Lord Gilbert’s sake. If necessity arises, I will not might if you use me as a shield. I can be replaced, but there is no substitute for you.”

If, at that time...

“This is also linked to protecting Lord Gilbert.”

...in that place...

“Bye, Monster. This guy’s your next master.”

...he had educated and guided her instead of letting her go, would she have grown up the same way?

“Shut up.”

Would she have thought like that?

“Shut up, Monster.”

He had never even thought about it.

Another side of him immediately answered “no” to the self-questioning. Surely, a Violet Evergarden raised by Dietfried Bougainvillea would not have turned out like this. He might have at least taught her how to talk. They would have trouble communicating otherwise. He would have probably given her clothes and personal belongings for daily life. Bringing her along when walking around would look bad for him.

However, when it came to whether or not he would have bestowed this girl with something that would be enveloped in her hands with utmost zeal...

——I see; so it’s the same color as Gilbert’s eyes. That brooch.

...he would undeniably have not.

——Come to think of it, she was always following me around from behind ‘cause she hated being alone.

If there was anything he could have done for her, it was to at least fill up a coffin with flowers and leave it available for her. He did not intend for anything to happen, but he might have done that much. After all, if Violet had stayed beside Dietfried Bougainvillea, she would have surely died before him, for his sake.

“We’re gonna do an act.”

——Aah, Gilbert.

“An act?”

——I’m always late to realize how great you are.

“That’s right. You’re the one who suggested it, so I’m gonna make you into a decoy.”

——You’ve made that filthy beast into this.

“Understood.”

——You were able to change her like this.

“First, take this... It’s late for that, but... you got any questions about a joint struggle with me?”

As Dietfried asked, Violet responded with her neck tilted, “Why...? I do not.”

For whatever reason, his former weapon would show scraps of emotion only at times like these. Just innocently, unaware that it was merciless of her.

“Please use me correctly, Captain.” She smiled.

Why had robbers attacked the Artemisia Gallery?

There was a certain amount of history that led to such violence unfolding amidst everyday life. Firstly, it would be preferable to start with the time when a turning point happened in the life of the robbery’s main offender, but that would be rewinding too far. On to a brief explanation.

This case was a crime committed by a habitual criminal.

There were various reasons for people to rob, yet the advantage was but one. Earning compensation within a short period. Good citizens would be paid for their work, but thieves did not share this mentality. People received rewards through serving others. In order to gather a large sum, a long time and effort were necessary. Thieves abdicated from this. To achieve success, no matter in what land, a person had to be equipped with skills as a rule of thumb.

If one could stop after doing it once, why did they do it countless times? There were people here and there who thought this about criminals. It was because, if they had succeeded once, they could do it again. They were instantly able to attain things that they would have to spend a long time out of their lives to earn. This was the arrival of an opportunity to do that.

Once one got used to it, identifying opportunities was surprisingly easy.

Supposing that there was someone who excelled at predicting people’s thoughts. The other person’s personality would be determined by the movements of their eyes, the way they breathed, their voice tone, the relationships of power in their background, their social position and other such things, so one would be able to deduce what kind of conduct should be taken in order to derive the “correct answer”. It seemed like magic at first glance, but it was no more than the result of someone continuously keeping watch on another person for many years.

Since this was a strategy against individual matches, the robbers needed a slightly better ability to grasp the environment. As they were walking around the city, they incidentally found out that a new gallery was going to open. The opening date was also announced. It appeared that there would be an event only for those concerned on the day before.

No matter the establishment, dealing flawlessly with the inauguration of a new shop was difficult. Even if there were people in it who already had experience working in a gallery, but the use of their abilities to have control over such a situation and proceed with it smoothly was different. Employees would be in quite a panic on the day. If it was a members-only celebration day, there was no mistaking that the original state of the security that should be guarding the gallery would be insufficient.

And so, the robbers had thought, “Aah, if you poke this place, it’ll surely crumble down.”

They did not have any grudges in particular. They had simply judged that they could do it, thus undergoing the assault. The truth was merely that the Artemisia Gallery had been unlucky.

How many hardships the owner had gone through until she was able to open the gallery, had she lived her life bowing her head to other people? How many artists were looking forward to seeing their work exhibited in the gallery? The feelings of such people could be trampled miserably at times.

Not that many people paid any mind to weeds when walking. That was all. Except, this time, the Artemisia Gallery had been lucky about just one thing.

“No good... Hum, excuse me...! She suddenly...!”

A naval captain who loved art...

“Ugh...”

...and the woman who used to be called Leidenschaftlich’s War Maiden were amongst the hostages.

The man who had caused a commotion and pleaded to one of the robbers in a panic raised both of his hands as a display of no resistance. He was a long-haired a man. His slightly curvy dark hair went past his shoulders. Right next to him was a woman holding her stomach and trembling.

“What?”

A few armed men gathered around them.

“It seems her stomach hurts.”

“Just a stomach ache? Leave it alone.”

“You’re telling us to let her go to the bathroom? We still gotta watch these people. Besides, she’s a woman. If someone takes her to the toilet... Well, how much stuff did we get?”

“We’ve piled most of the paintings in the carrier, but there’s still the ornaments. It’s still gonna take a while.”

The robbers had a choice. The option to either silently let her suffer or kindly take her to the restroom. Beating only the men was likely one of their policies. They did not hesitate to make use of violence when needed, but when it was not, it was best to have as least animosity as possible in order to get through with things unobtrusively and quickly take the treasure. It seemed gentlemanly but was a self-righteous thinking.

“What do we do? The Head is...”

“The Head got in the car first. As if we can ask him stuff like this every single time it happens.”

“Head” probably referred to the member worthy of being their chief.

As the quiet exchanges continued in front of the agonizing woman, she finally lay down on the floor while still holding onto her stomach. The man who had appealed about her bad condition shook her shoulders, telling her to “hang in there”.

As if she had received a signal, the woman raised her face slowly. Her gemstone-like blue eyes were visible through the gaps between her disheveled golden hair. She was covering her mouth, perhaps trying not to vomit. Even so, it was easy to tell that the woman’s looks were remarkably good.

“It’s gonna take a while, huh. Besides, we’re gonna need the women later.”

Her eyes locked with one of robber’s as though sucking him in. One would not understand the destructive power that having this woman look up at them from their feet with her eyes wet had, unless they witnessed it themselves.

“Then, I guess it’s okay.”

From the vulgar smile of the man who had said so, one could presume what his intentions were. As the woman was covering her mouth, the robber instructed her to stand up, pointing his gun at her, and then took her to the restroom.

After that, the woman and the robber did not return for a while. Since there were no other people who mustered out the courage to say that they wanted to use the toilet, the period of their absence passed as if it were natural. In the meantime, the gallery’s exhibits were being carried one after another to cars with roof racks parked outside the establishment. The robbers were dressed as employees who worked with the transportation of goods, so even those walking down the street did not think there was anything strange about that work scene.

Once they had finished relocating most of the merchandises, one of the cars left the gallery. The other one that remained parked was meant for the getaway of those who were keeping watch. With the artworks that had been collected for the sake of this day snatched away down to the last one, the gallery was bare. The owner, Artemisia, had all the while been suppressing her cries and shedding tears.

Apparently, those thieves were quite the habitual criminals. They had threatened everyone with armed force upon entering the establishment, robbing people of any resistance, but after that, as long as everyone stayed still, they would do nothing but coldly keep control of the hostages, not even raising their voices. If people did as told, they would not lose their lives. That hope made the hostages obedient. Even though they were robbers, this seamless way of dealing with people was like that of artisans. They did not think of humans as humans.

“Excuse me; I just... want to lend her a handkerchief. That’s all. The sleeves of her clothes are already soaked with tears. Can’t you allow just this much?”

Hearing a voice from the back, Artemisia turned around. It came from one of the artists that she had invited over for today, whom she had known for quite some time. She was shaken by a sense of guilt that she had done something terrible to him as well.

Their first meeting had started at a certain recreational facility, when she peeked from behind while he was painting a landscape. She did not know his occupation, but they kept in touch and she had him show her his art. It seemed he had always been drawing as a hobby. He told her that even most of the people who were close to him did not know he painted, and that he had truly only been doing it for himself.

The busy man had weaved his way through spare time and the work he brought had swayed Artemisia’s senses. At first, he had hesitated at her request to put it on display, but then smiled like a boy and gave her his ready consent, looking happy.

——Aah, God. Please give it back. Please give that fun time back to everyone.

Artemisia was upset and vexed at the fact that the artworks were being stolen, but more than anything, it felt like the regret towards everyone who had been looking forward to this day would split her chest open.

“Hey, he told you to use this.”

He had lent a handkerchief to Artemisia through one of the robbers. Artemisia wiped her tears and managed to lock eyes with him somehow. She then mouthed a “thank you” to him without letting out her voice.

The man smiled. But it was not the smile that Artemisia knew. He was different when he talked about art. She had shivers before she could think. His eyes were not smiling.

“ .”

The man said something to Artemisia. As he had only moved his lips, Artemisia could not tell whether she had been able to read what he tried to convey. She could not, but most likely, he had said:

“It’ll be over soon.”

Eventually, the robbers started to create an atmosphere of evacuation at last.

“Let’s take one person with us until we leave the harbor. Can be a woman or kid. Which do we choose?”

“Woman it is.”

“That guy was playing around with the woman we were planning to use for that, wasn’t he? What happened to him?”

Assuming that they would finally be freed, the hostages started fidgeting. They had faced a disaster and the artworks that they had dedicated their lives to making had been stolen. This joyful day had been repainted into despair. But they were alive. That was the one and only bright side of today. They would not be able to maintain their rationality unless they comforted themselves with that. At any rate, they wanted to hurry and be liberated.

Amongst them, there was a man who merely observed the robbers’ movements in silence all the while. It was the man who had been caring for a woman that had a stomachache, looking worried. Once the woman had been taken to the restroom, he became expressionless, as if he had lost interest in everything. Occasionally, there were moments when he even yawned in secret, as if he had grown sleepy.

“Go call him. We could use that woman as hostage. She’s young, so she can come back walking if we throw her away on the street.”

Hearing these words, the man let out his voice and laughed. By the looks of it, he had not intended to laugh, but wound up doing so. He put a hand to his mouth, but then shrugged and let the robbers see it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun of you. But trying to rape that thing, huh? No matter how many lives you have, it wouldn’t be enough.”

“Hey, what’s with you...? Got a complaint or something...?”

The man kept laughing, as though to say that the robbers’ threatening figures were even more comical. With her eyes, the owner, Artemisia, begged the man provoking the robbers to restrain himself, for she could not afford to lose not only the artworks that she had collected but also a guest that she had invited, yet the man closed one eye at that and replied, “Artemisia, it’s okay.”

No one in this place knew his social status. Or his history.

In the past, Dietfried Bougainvillea used to wield a weapon that could become the world’s best. It was now away from his grasp, but it was not as if their master-servant connection had been completely severed. The beast had a high level of loyalty, so although they had met by chance after a long time, her heart recognized it. That he was the one she had been following in the past – someone worth being served by her. Therefore, the beast would attend him to exhaustion.

Only a limited number of people could handle the beast. The feeling that she had returned to his hands for now was somewhat strange.

“She runs quick.”

“Ha?”

“That’s why it’s the end for you guys. My bad.”

“Hey, shut this dude up.”

As Dietfried had suddenly started talking, the robbers naturally had a doubtful reaction.

“She’s as fast as a deer. And this is the city’s main street, so there are hotels nearby.”

“So, what’re you saying?”

“I left my bodyguards behind to come here today. They’re probably drinking at their room’s bar. There’re also guys among them who know that thing from the time when she was still by my side. I left my hair tie with her, so she should be able to convince them with that. I could predict that you’d take the things you stole to the port. It’s pretty difficult to get away from pursuers on land when you make such a mess in the center of this city. It’s harder to be tracked using the sea route than the land route, right? But the sea route doesn’t work against me. It looks like one vehicle left a while ago, but it’s over by the point they reach the port. You’ll probably go outside now, but if you’re thinking about taking someone along as a hostage, you’d better drop it. Many of my subordinates are hot-blooded. If you rouse them up like that, they’ll probably get too excited. If that happens, you’re the ones who’ll be getting the short end of the stick. No matter how many dead bodies fall down, we can deal with it all we want in the aftermath. We’ll need to get the stories straight, but today’s hostages will surely choose to cooperate with me. Having people trample on the proof of a life that you’ve lived with all your might is painful for anyone.”

The eloquent man did not run out of breath even when speaking nonstop in such a situation. However, this majestic aspect of him was reflected in others’ eyes as dreadful and similar to madness.

The robbers abruptly realized that all the hostages were looking far behind them. They felt that there was something behind them. It was like a ghost, hiding even its flame of life, simply waiting for the orders of its lord.

Outside the windows of the gallery, they could hear the sounds of someone fighting from around the area where the car was parked. Simultaneously, they could hear a faint breathing just behind them.

The respiration of a woman who was out of breath from running loomed over their ears.

“Do it, Violet.” Dietfried raised his thumb and made a swift throat-cutting gesture.

While watching his doll render the robbers unconscious with a strength as overwhelming as a monster eating people, Dietfried reminisced to the past.

——Everything goes around.

He recalled the time when the two of them were stuck in that isolated island.

The beast had been scared when the rescue fleet arrived. So had Dietfried. He would not be able to bear it if more of his comrades were murdered. Hence, he had taken the beast’s hand and guided her to the outside world. In his perception, it was the same as taking the reins.

There were no reins anymore now. No need for him to pull her by the hand when walking, either. There was nothing between them.

Not love, passion, attachment, desire, anything.

“Captain.”

There was nothing, but one thing was for certain.

“Captain Bougainvillea.”

If he called for her, this Auto-Memories Doll would most likely go to the ends of the world to save him. That was her nature.

“I have just returned. Are you unharmed?”

At that moment, the beast was well aware that he had called her name for the very first time. Her eyes were crinkling.

“Yeah.”

Just this much compensation was enough to make the beast smile.

After a little while passed, Leidenschaftlich was embraced by the gentleness of the night.

Summer constellations were decorating the jet-black sky. Just as sunny as it was during daytime, the night sky was twinkling so brightly this evening that it could be called a banquet of stars. The day was about to end in Leidenschaftlich. Today was filled with chaos ever since morning.

While being observed by gathered-up onlookers, the arrest drama that had unfolded in front of the Artemisia Gallery was already coming to a conclusion, its many procedures and processing passed over to the military police. Seeing the stolen artworks safely re-delivered to Artemisia, Dietfried took a breather. His gaze then fleetingly drifted to the side. A dirtied ceramic doll was standing there. A woman beautiful enough to look like such, who shone amidst the night, was standing there. He had to say something to her. As one would expect, he should do that at least now. But he could not think of anything.

——“You did well”. “That wasn’t too bad”. “Good work”. “I commend you”... Which one?

Inside his head, words were being conceived and then disappearing. Just like the dreams that the sleeping children all around Leidenschaftlich were surely seeing right now. They were born and then vanished.

At last, he attempted to open his mouth, “Aren’t you cold?”

“It is summer, after all.”

And ended up talking to her like a man who was unused to inviting women out.

Violet Evergarden, who had been fighting reasonably and in order to protect, was still by Dietfried’s side. It was fitting to say that she had been today’s most meritorious person. The one who had come up with the idea of the arrest operation was Dietfried, but the one who had done all the work for it was Violet.

First, she had put up the woman-with-a-stomachache act and gone with one of the robbers to the restroom. She had then quietly strangled the neck of the man who had reached a hand to her shoulder with her mechanical prosthetic arms, making him pass out.

She had broken out and escaped through the restroom’s window. Rather than going to the military police, she had gone to the hotel that Dietfried instructed her to and notified the naval soldiers, who were enjoying cigarettes and drinks in a room on the top floor, of the circumstances. One of the soldiers, who happened to know her, had been frightened at first, but upon seeing that she had been entrusted with Dietfried’s ribbon, his facial expression changed and he contacted the military police, then informed the port’s security to reinforce their inspections.

Without waiting for them to get ready, she had immediately run back to the Artemisia Gallery and infiltrated it through the same route. A few of the robbers, who had the bad luck of spotting her, fell to the ground with one kick or punch to the abdomen, and so, she had finally returned. As Violet stood behind the remaining robbers while catching her breath, the hostages stared as if she were their safety, but Dietfried was sneering as he looked at her.

Just as ordered, she had saved Dietfried without damaging a single artwork.

“About what happened...”

“It will probably be best not to tell Lord Gilbert. He would worry.”

Upon seeing the last artwork be brought in, Violet took the trolley bag that lay by her feet. She likely intended to go home by herself.

After making her do so much, something similar to guilt was now sprouting within Dietfried. He wound up acknowledging that she, too, was important to someone. That was what he thought after the battle, when he saw Violet stroking her emerald brooch as if to confirm that it was there.

Even though she used to be a wild beast whom no one would mourn if she died.

——Aah, that’s an excuse. It’ll be nothing but an excuse. If so, then I don’t wanna say it.

Back then, when she was by Dietfried’s side, every single day was filled with madness on all accounts. They used to roam around battlefields, fighting from dawn to dusk, growing too accustomed to violence. The war then ended, peace had returned, and he realized that an era in which he could even make art was arriving. That those times were abnormal and the way he felt now was the default.

“I’ll take you home.”

“No need. Your escorts must be waiting, so please, feel free to take your leave, Captain.”

“It’s fine; just this time. I’ll take you home.”

“No need.”

“I’ll take you. Listen up, this is an order.”

“I cannot accept your command.”

“You little... You were taking action like I instructed you to just a while ago.”

“Because it was a state of emergency... Besides, Captain Dietfried, it would be reasonable if I were to take you home, but the opposite is illogical.”

“What’re you talking about? You’re a woman, aren’t you?”

“A woman”. Finding himself asserting this with his own mouth, Dietfried regretted it even more.

The corner of Violet’s lips had a cut and blood was coming out of it. Her ribbon-tie dress was drenched in sweat. Even those who did not sweat much would be like this after such a huge scuffle during summertime.

“I’m calling a carriage. It’s all right; just wait right there. I’ll see you off until you get inside the Evergarden house. And then it’s goodbye. We’ll never see each other again. No matter what you and Gil become, we’ll never see each other again.”

What he had done today to this woman, who had become fully able to accept someone’s love, was not something that a son of the Bougainvillea should ever do to a lady.

After they had hopped into the carriage, a moment of silence went on for a while.

——Is it okay for her to keep such an open secret even though those two are a couple?

Dietfried found himself accidentally concerned about his younger brother’s love life. After all, this situation might be a betrayal to his dearest brother. Gilbert had completely forgiven Dietfried. For pushing the headship succession onto him. For not having any consideration for their family. For forcing an indescribable wild beast onto him. He had forgiven everything.

Thinking back, the only time that he attempted to push Dietfried away, saying he would not forgive him, had been when Dietfried offered Violet to him. He had called it “human trafficking”. Told Dietfried not to be violent with a child.

Most likely, those two were each other’s only exception from the very beginning. There was probably no pardoning what Dietfried had done to Violet today. Gilbert would forgive most things. Save for matters related to the one and only thing that was most important to him. Being hated by a loved one. This could cast a shadow over anyone’s heart, regardless of how old they were.

“It is all right.” The voice that cut through the silence was thrown at him as if to soothe him down. The words sounded almost as if she had perceived Dietfried’s uneasiness. “If, by any chance... word ends up reaching him through someone else about this case, I will definitely defend you, Captain Dietfried.”

“‘Defend’, you say?”

“To tell the truth, I often get involved in large-scale incidents without Major knowing. But I return without fail. To Leidenschaftlich. I will return today as well. Therefore, we are all right.”

“What do you do out there?”

“We were separated for much too long. Therefore, we have many moments that the other does not know about in the first place. Perhaps even now, too. I have work to do and so does he. We have limited time to see each other. However, I will definitely always return to Major. He knows this as well. Even when we are apart, that person is the only one who occupies my mind. I am not sure if I convey it to him properly, but that is how it is.”

Her statements were something that would normally make him burst into laughter, but Dietfried was unable to do so.

——When did you become like that?

Dietfried hated Violet. Several factors had induced his emotions to it.

——Now you can correspond to someone’s love.

He saw himself overlap with her. Her subservience to adults and the way that she herself wanted it disgusted him. He despised the wild beast that did not yearn for freedom. Despised the fact that she had been trained by someone to be this way. Despised everything. To begin with, Dietfried did not have many things that he liked.

Even the number of people who could become kind had a limit.

The truth was that, even if he wanted to be kind, it was no longer possible. He had prayed to God for it countless times in the past. However, unable to achieve this, a man named Dietfried Bougainvillea existed.

——O God, I want to, he begged a certain Someone in his mind for the first in a long time. Perhaps since his childhood.

Still, this sort of being did not give any reply to calls. Even now, he had no idea if his plea had reached Him. It was certainly impossible. His and Violet’s stars were in a position that would not radically change.

Nevertheless, for some reason, he had the overwhelming desire to ask someone for forgiveness today.

——I wanna go back.

Not even he knew where to.

——Hurry and be over, this day, today and the time I have to spend with her.

He was not annoyed.

——O God, I want to...

But painfully miserable.

“Captain.”

The carriage ran amongst trees dyed in the darkness of the night. A cool voice echoed amidst them.

Violet was looking at the scenery outside. She was observing the moon, which chased after them, no matter how far, far apart they were.

The moon was something that would continue to exist forever. Unlike stories. Regardless of whether Dietfried concerned himself with it, everything about his story would come to a closing one day as well. Demise would arrive even to the things that he did not wish to ever be over. Even the feelings he had now would end.

“How was I today?”

“What?”

“Did my work earn your satisfaction today?”

Dietfried could not read the intentions behind Violet’s question at all. She was someone whose emotions he could not read in the first place, but it was even harder to understand the meaning of that sentence.

“What do you want to say?”

Silence.

“Hey, just say it straight. Don’t be dodgy with me.”

“All right,” the cool voice entered his ears once more. Such coldness resembled the night, but it never left his ears, easy as it was to catch.

Violet turned her neck and cast her gaze at him. Slowly, blue and green eyes blended with each other.

“I...”

Bathed in moonlight, she was simply, purely beautiful, enough to take Dietfried’s breath away.

“When I was with you, Lord Dietfried, my work was never satisfactory. Now that I became an adult, have I finally been able to repay my debt... with my work?”

“What d’you mean by ‘debt’?”

His voice was hoarse. He suddenly felt as if this icy woman had robbed his entire body of its heat. The inside of his mouth was extremely dry.

“I mean everything. It all started when you brought me from that island. I am the way I am now because you entrusted me to Ma... to Lord Gilbert.”

“If you’d stayed with me, probably nothing good would’ve happened.”

“How would I be if I had continued to serve you?”

These words became a bullet and pierced Dietfried’s heart. He felt as if his breathing would stop at the unexpected question. Things had been like that since the distant past. Dietfried would reconfirm time and time again that she was a woman who could have become a lethal weapon for him.

“So you also imagine a hypothesis... of ‘what if’,” her exquisitely cold voice rang within the darkness. Upon being asked, “You too?”, Violet nodded.

That was his line, Dietfried thought, but Violet then sent his gemstone eyes a dream-like gaze. His existence might be devoid of realism to her.

Violet began to whisper. If only she had disobeyed that order back then. If only she had rushed to him a step faster at that time.

“Back then, if”. “Back then, if”. “Back then, if”.

She could not bring myself not to think that, if only she had had this extra step, he would not have lost that emerald eye.

“Besides, I wonder... if I had managed to protect him back then...”

She had to let go of her most beloved lord’s hand and was entrusted to someone else as if she had been thrown away.

“...I would not have had to spend that time away from Major.”

Thinking back, she had always been abandoned and then picked up by somebody. She should have been used to it. That was the star she had been born under.

She was originally a foreign body to this world and was supposed to have been eliminated. Her destiny had also flowed in this way. The reason why Violet had rebelled against her sectioned path, despite having been tamely submitting herself to it, was that the other was special.

——I also threw her away.

He had thrown his home away. Thrown away his little brother, who cried in protest. And thrown away this beast.

“I also wonder what would have happened if you had not left me with Major.”

This woman.

“But all of these are akin to dreams, crossing my mind and fading away. After passing through countless ‘if’s, I...”

He had pushed this woman onto his brother and forsaken her. Looking at her made him sick. He was also scared of her. Most importantly, he would have stopped being himself. This terrified him.

“And now, I have become an Auto-Memories Doll and am spending a night with you.”

This woman possessed an element that transmuted people.

“Y’know, you’ll be alone one day. You’re the one who’s got the longer lifespan, aren’t you?”

Violet closed her eyes at those words. If she had pictured numerous “if”s, this would obviously come to mind as well.

“I do not know.”

“If that happens, what’re you gonna do?”

“I do not know. But are you not the same as me when it comes to this? You love him, right?”

“I’m... I’m the older one. I’ll be gone sooner.”

“No one knows about that. But... if, one day... I do become alone... if I am left living by myself... my order will still be valid. I will probably live on.”

If she ended up living by herself, this supposition was the cruelest of things to the beast. Just what did he want to do by making her say this now?

Thinking back, ever since they had first met, he had not known how to deal with her. Should he have protected her? Killed her? Protected? Killed? Or perhaps...

“That is why I write letters every day. Even if they do not reach him, I write letters to Major every single day.”

Silence.

“Captain, what will you do?”

“Me, huh? I... let’s see. Paint, I guess.”

“A painting or Major?”

“That’s right.”

“May I go see it?”

To Dietfried Bougainvillea, this wild beast was both a woman and a monster from the very beginning. She was now as far-off as a dream.

“You’re the only one of my relatives who knows I paint. Do whatever you want.”

——O God, I want to be a good person.

#violet evergarden #fyeahvioletevergarden #veedit #dietfried bougainvillea #kyoani #kyoto animation #akatsuki kana #takase akiko #my translation

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penguintransporter · 3 years

Text

Every You, Every Me (a Leon Goretzka story) chapter II

I know it’s been a while, but I re-wrote this part maybe seven, eight times, only to settle on something completely different. Hope you like it, and I apologise if it is a bit too long (you know me). Tell me what you think about it, every heart, message, and reblog means much more than you can imagine. It needs some editing, but I will get around to do it sometime later.

Part I

Sofie rested her hands on her waist, overlooking the mountain of clothes piled on her bed — different shapes, colours, patterns and prints, interlacing and weaving in an incomprehensible bundle on top of her comforter. She didn’t know where to start, and for a moment, she wished she could wipe it away with a snap of her fingers, and be over with it.

She was tired after having a sleepless night, and she was hungry, but she had been putting it off for too long, and she knew it had to be done.

Shaking her head a bit, Sofie picked up a pair of black, over-the-knee boots from the top of the pile — the soft leather feeling smooth against the skin of her fingertips. She remembered the day when she bought them, matching them with a strappy top and a mid-calf, satin skirt — cashing out the last cents of her scholarship money in the outfit, hoping to catch his eye.

The confidence she felt when she made her way through the crowd in the outfit she couldn’t afford and with her makeup and hair immaculately done, trying to fit in with the people he invited to his birthday party — it all felt ridiculous and a bit childish in retrospective. The glances they shared across the room, the smile on his face when he opened the present she got him, the random touch of his fingertips against her bare back when he guided her to the bar, and the clearest of them all, the bitter taste in her mouth when he left with Yvonne — the girl he ended up dating for the next six months.

As she watched his figure walk out with his strong arm around the pretty blonde in luxurious dress, Sofie knew that the best thing would be to just give up, as any sane person in her place would, but she just couldn’t bring herself to listen to her brain. Instead, she booked a hairdresser the next morning, dyeing her hair in lighter colour and waited for him to notice it, feeding on the crumbs of his attention and sticking to it like a moth to the flame.

Yet, she was blind, diving deep into the pit of unrequited love, shedding the layers of her real self along the way, not thinking about consequences or the future.

Sofie breathed out a sigh before lifting up a dress from her bed — short and covered in sequins, and she couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at the mere thought of owning it, let alone wearing it. There was nothing wrong with the dress itself, but the cut, length and style of it, it was all, but something she felt comfortable wearing. Folding it gingerly, she glanced back at the clothes in front of her — realisation of how much she had changed herself for Leon hitting her like a train.

Sofie knew better than that.

Sofie was about to throw the dress behind her, in the same pile with her overpriced boots when her phone buzzed loudly on her dresser, startling her. Dropping it back on the pile, Sofie made her way towards the device that was hidden among one too many notebooks and course books resting on the IKEA piece before picking it up and smiling at the name written across the screen.

“You actually did it!” Elle screamed from the other side of the line causing the other girl to twist her lips and move her phone away from her ear for a second. If there was one distinctive separating the two of them, it was the different levels of their loudness at any given moment. “Turn the fucking camera on, and let me see it!” her best friend demanded — her voice still too loud for Sofie’s or anyone's comfort.

“Language,” Sofie laughed, fumbling with her phone, “you are not on the pitch, Ellenore.” Sofie finally turned on the front camera, pulling a face at Elle as her friend squealed with happiness upon seeing her hair, or rather lack of it. “I guess you like it then,” Sofie muttered, patting the top of her head, feeling slightly embarrassed with the attention she was getting.

“I love it,” Elle breathed out. “I was worried at first when you texted, but you have one sexy head, Sofie. How does it feel? Naked?”

“Light and cold,” Sofie responded with a shake of her head, “almost had a heart attack when I woke up yesterday morning and saw myself in the mirror.”

Elle laughed softly, adjusting her large bag across her shoulders as she walked along the small street that led to her apartment block - the red jacket with the Bayern Munich logo zipped all the way to her chin.

“What’s the mess about?” Elle changed the topic, making Sofie turn her head away to look at the clothes and shoes strewn across her bed.

“I’ve been—” Sofie paused to make herself some space before sitting down at the foot of her bed, “decluttering. Or something like that.”

Elle’s face dropped for a second, but she quickly masked it with a supporting grin that Sofie more than appreciated. If anyone knew about the heartbreak and the identity crisis that Sofie was going through, it was Elle.

“Are you getting rid of everything?” Elle asked. “Will you sell it or give away?”

“I don’t know what to do with it yet, but I know that it has to go,” Sofie admitted. She felt the tears glaze her vision, but she quickly gave Elle a small smile, trying to stop herself from being too pathetic. “I’ve made such a mess out of my life, Elle,” she paused, giving herself a moment to bite back her tears, “I could have travelled half of the world with the money I spent on frills and sequins, and I hate frills and sequins.”

“I think you are being too hard on yourself, Sofie,” Elle said as Sofie stretched her legs in front of her, “and travelling half of the world is more expensive than you think. Unless you are someone who is comfortable wearing the same harem pants and baja hoodie for more than two and showering once a week,” she added with an innocent smile, and Sofie couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“I am just disappointed that I let myself go this far,” Sofie admitted, focusing on the slippers on her feet - soft material worn out and discoloured. “Plenty fish in the sea, and I was pulling on the biggest catch. How silly of me.”

Elle was quiet as Sofie got up, making her way out of the room and towards the kitchen, closing the doors behind her. One thing was keeping herself busy with it, and completely different to stare at it and do nothing.

“Did you talk to him? Or Serge? They are back from Trentino, or at least that’s what I’ve heard from the girls at the training.” Elle stopped to unlock her apartment doors.

Despite seeing that Elle was concentrating on twisting the locks, Sofie nodded, pouring some of the juice from the container into her glass. “I had a missed call from Leon on Tuesday,” she took a small sip of her drink, relishing the coolness trickling down her throat, “and I called back. I know I shouldn’t have,” Sofie whispered, rubbing at her eye with her free hand, placing her glass at the edge of the sink, “but he didn’t mention anything about coming back early. Then again, I didn’t ask either, maybe I should have. And why am I being so pathetic, it's not like we had something going on? It was me running after him...”

“Sofie,” Elle sighed quietly — her voice careful, “I know it’s not easy to deal with the heartbreak, and you shouldn’t keep it inside. I am here, you know that?”

Sofie nodded, trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness in her stomach despite the juice. “Yeah,” she answered slowly, “but, I hav—” Sofie stopped, running her hand across the top of her head, finding comfort in the simple action of touching it. “How was your training session?” she asked, changing the subject clumsily as the doorbell rang out throughout her apartment. Sofie’s stomach grumbled at the mere thought of eating lunch soon.

“Did you order food?” Elle smirked, “sushi? Noodles?”

“Indian actually,” Sofie replied, walking towards the doors through the small hallway before unlocking the massive doors, only to stop in her tracks — the smile she had prepared for the delivery person faltering as quickly as it appeared.

“You know, Serge,” Sofie grinned as she twirled the last remaining of her already cold tea in her cup, “staring at me won’t make it grow back any faster,” she spoke, downing the leftovers of her drink while grinning at her friend over the lip of her mug. He only laughed in response, and Sofie rolled her eyes playfully before glancing briefly at Leon.

Ever since Sofie welcomed them in her apartment, Leon had been acting strange, quietly sitting at the edge of her couch — leg bouncing as he glanced at his phone every few seconds. He wasn’t as talkative as Serge most of the time, but having him say only few words was not a common thing. Sofie felt that there was something on his mind, and that he was going through something, but she didn't know how to approach him without being too noisy.

“I wasn’t staring at all,” Serge replied, still grinning, “and if I did, it’s because it looks really good.”

“Do girls drop their panties for you all the time, Gnabry?” Sofie asked, sarcastically. “Your charm is amazing.”

“I am being honest here,” Serge clarified, trying to contain his laughter, “it does look good. Right?” he admitted, looking towards Leon, but his friend ignored him — eyes still trained on the shiny device. Serge smiled in disbelief, glancing at Sofie with a goofy face before leaning closer to his friend and teammate, nudging him with his knee, “Leon? I am talking to you. Are you even here?”

“Hmm? What?” Leon suddenly asked, looking up from his phone, startled at the sound and motion coming from his left. “Did you say something?”

“Sofie’s new haircut. It looks good, no?” Serge repeated, much slower, stretching out every syllable for the confused German.

“Yeah,” Leon started, giving Sofie a long stare which made her heartbeat accelerate, “yeah, it does,” he repeated somewhat quieter, glancing at his phone again for a millisecond. “Can I make some fresh coffee, Sofie? I feel like some coffee?” he asked suddenly— eyes never leaving hers, and for some reason Sofie felt scrutinized under his gaze.

Sofie was a bit confused with the urgency in his voice, but nodded quickly, watching him get up and straighten his dark jeans in a hurry and putting his phone in the back pocket. He gave her a small smile in response before moving around the coffee table and walking out of the room, not looking back when Serge commented something that Sofie didn’t catch. There was a strange feeling inside of her stomach as she watched him walk out, before she leaned forward in her seat, giving Serge a quizzical look on which he only shrugged with his shoulders.

“I’ll go and check,” she whispered, getting up as well, and quickly following Leon into the kitchen.

He was resting his large hands against the counter, watching Sofie’s cheap coffee machine drip the liquid in the large container. In the small space of her kitchen, crammed with the table, uncomfortable chairs, and way too many plants and random knick-knacks, Leon’s physique was overwhelming. Sofie stood in the doorway, quietly observing him, and nervously bringing her hands together, unwilling to speak out and ruin his peace.

“You’ve been really quiet,” she finally said, moving away from the doorway and stepping inside the room and beside him. She wasn’t the shortest girl out there, but he was still towering over her, especially now that she was only wearing her slippers.

Leon briefly glanced at her — his eyes moving from her eyes to her hair, and down to her lips for a split of a second before looking back at the coffee machine again, making her heart soar. Up close, she could see the fine smile lines around his eyes and lips. He was beautiful.

“I didn’t sleep well,” he answered quietly, rubbing at the stubble along his chin, “didn’t help that Serge chatted my ear off on our flight back to Munich either. He sat with Hummels, but he shooed him over to my seat,” he added, giving her a small, one-sided grin.

Sofie smiled as well, turning around and leaning against the sink — the aluminium chilling her back through her worn-out tee. “He’s got enough energy for the entire squad, no?”

“Indeed he does.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, and the only sound was the coffee machine loudly filtering the bitter liquid in the scratched pot. Sofie took a deep breath as she stared in front of herself, focusing on the rotting banana in her fruit basket on the dining table, and before she could stop herself, the words that she was supposed to suppress and keep inside, left her mouth.

“If you want, you can stay and take a nap on the sofa as usual,” she suggested, and almost instantly regretted it. She had created a list of unwritten rules that were supposed to help her get over Leon, and offering him couch to nap on was not one of them.

“Thanks, but I think I will head out whenever Serge makes a move,” Leon quickly answered, and Sofie felt a pinch at her heart. “You seem busy too.”

“As you wish,” she nodded, moving away from the sink as she watched him pour himself a large cup of coffee, dropping a cube of brown sugar in it before taking a small sip. “You sure you’re okay, Leon?” she asked again.

“Yeah, all is fine, don’t worry,” he smiled, giving her another long stare, and under his gaze she yet felt naked and exposed. “Shall we go out for dinner tomorrow evening? Would be nice to catch up. It’s been a while,” Leon asked as she was about to walk out of her kitchen and back to where Serge was sitting, but stopped in her tracks upon hearing Leon’s voice behind her.

Sofie took a hesitant breath — her heart starting to beat faster in her chest, but she still managed to smile when she turned around, giving him a small nod. “Sure. Sounds like a plan.”

Wrong answer, Sofie.

Wrong answer.

tags:

@footballerimaginess, @littlebitofbluelittlebitofcoffee, @jordanspetkovics, @disneydaddyevans

If there is someone I forgot to tag, please let me know.

#leon goretzka #bayern munich #football fanfiction #footballer fanfiction #footballer oneshot #leon goretzka imagine #leon goretzka fanfiction #leon goretzka oneshot

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wisteriashouse · 4 years

Text

sweet confession.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 4351

You’d never thought yourself to be the jealous type.

But when your best friend, Rengoku Kyoujurou, asks you what a suitable gift to confess with would be after a morning of sparring exercise, that green eyed beast in you somehow finds the energy to rear its ugly head.

The second the question leaves his mouth, you pause with your towel in hand to stare at his hopeful, earnest expression for a moment, a little thrown off by his words. Kyoujurou isn’t particularly close to anyone out of the corps besides his younger brother, being far too devoted with his job as a demon slayer to have the free time to know many people outside of the corps. The few people whom he does interact much with are you, Shinobu, when he gets injured, and of course, Kanroji.

You purse your lips, suddenly contemplative. Does Kyoujurou have feelings for the Love Pillar?

Kyoujurou hasn’t mentioned anything about it to you, but it would make sense for the two of them to be especially close, considering that Kyoujurou had acted as her trainer and master in Flame Breathing back in the past. Neither has Kanroji, for that matter, but she’s always been closer to Shinobu compared to you anyway.

“Why do you ask?” You glance at him, trying to keep your tone as light and breezy as possible. Kyoujurou’s confident gaze falters for a moment, clearly hesitant, before he gathers his courage and opens his mouth to speak. “I would like to gift someone special to me with a present, but I do not know what I should give! I thought that I should ask you, since I trust your opinion!” His cheeks are dusted pink.

It’s almost painfully obvious to you who this ‘special someone’ is to him, but you force a smile onto your face, nodding in response to his question.

“Ahh... well, personally, I like western desserts, like the ones Kanroji-san makes.” The mere thought of them makes your mouth water, but you’ve never really been close enough with her to ask for them. You mostly just steal them off Kyoujurou, who she bakes for regularly on a weekly basis. “Castella, tiramisu, crème brûlée, you know, the works.”

Kyoujurou’s eyes are fixed on you as you speak, nodding attentively along everything you say. That’s when you realise that he can’t give Mitsuri her own cakes and hurry to rectify your earlier words.

“But since you’re giving it to someone special, you should find something that they personally like! You should ask them directly yourself.” You add on hastily, before he can ruin his gift giving because of you. “If it’s someone who’s really important to you, you could try making something with your own hands. It would be more intimate and from the heart, am I right? I think it’d be really sweet.”

The seconds the words escape your mouth, part of you wants to hit yourself over the head. Why are you helping him get together with someone else?

You wonder if you should invite Obanai along to your pity party. He’d probably send Kaburamaru after you to bite your fingers off instead.

Lost in your own thoughts, you don’t notice Kyoujurou staring at you, fingers twisted in the fabric of his own towel. Something made with his own hands? He’s never really ventured into the finer arts of cooking or baking, but if that’s what you want, he’ll try his best to give it to you.

“I think it’d be really sweet,” you’d said. Kyoujurou wants you to think of him as sweet.

There’s an important question he wants to ask you, after all.

>>>

“Like this?”

“Ah, no, Rengoku-san! You’re overmixing the egg whites!” Mitsuri yelps as she rushes over to his side, pulling the bowl from his hands. A bit of the meringue he’d been whisking splatters on his nose, and Kyoujurou peers into the bowl hesitantly, scratching his chin. “So, not like this either?”

He’s been doing this all morning, and he still can’t seem to get it.

“You need to handle the egg whites with a more delicate touch,” Mitsuri explains, setting his latest failed attempt next to six other bowls - prior victims of his dismal baking skills. “If not, the meringue will deflate. They need to have stiff, fluffy peaks!”

“Hmm!” Kyoujurou makes a noise of understanding, bending over the counter to study the batch that Kanroji has made earlier. Honestly, he can’t really tell the difference between and successful and failed meringue, but if Kanroji says that it’s not alright, there is no way he’ll be confident giving it to you. “This is more difficult than I thought it would be! Senjurou has always said my cooking isn’t that terrible, but I see now that he was just trying to make me feel better. I will never subject him to the torture of eating my cooking ever again.”

“Eh? No, Rengoku-san, you aren’t that awful...” Mitsuri presses her lips together as she looks over the mess that is her kitchen. Several broken egg shells lie on the ground, testament to Kyoujurou’s overwhelming strength and zeal. “Well... maybe just a little. As I said earlier, if you want me to bake them for you to gift, I would be willing to do that too!”

Kyoujurou shakes his head immediately, resolute in his determination. “No, I cannot.” He looks down at his hands, covered in egg white and sugar. “I want this gift to be from the heart, and it would lose its sincerity if I were to ask you to make it.”

He’s interrupted by a squeal from Mitsuri, her hands clasped to her chest and heart in her eyes. “That’s so sweet, Rengoku-san!” She gushes. “I never knew you were so romantic! Of course I’ll do my best to help you! You’ll definitely master the art of meringue whipping with practice!”

“I’ll do my best, Kanroji!” With that declaration, Kyoujurou takes a glance at his hands once more. The palms are calloused, small, bone white scars scattered over his skin. “A more delicate touch...”

Perhaps it’s because he’s really only known wielding a sword his entire life, so he struggles to understand just what it would entail. “What would be a ‘delicate touch’?”

Mitsuri pauses to press a finger to her lips, face scrunched up in concentration as she tries to think of a suitable explanation. “Well, imagine how you would hold y/n’s hands if you could. That would be a delicate touch!”

Your hands. Holding your hands.

He’d be gentle. Cradle your hands to him with tenderness, tell you that you’re the most beautiful person in the world in his eyes. Treasure you, love you-

Kyoujurou turns to look at Mitsuri with a frown, mildly confused. “I do not think I would want to tell the egg whites that they are beautiful!”

Mitsuri gasps, cupping her cheeks with her hands as she shakes her head from side to side. “Rengoku-san, you’re really too sweet and gentlemanly... ahh, my heart is fluttering. I love how romantic you are!” She takes a deep breath to calm herself, fanning her cheeks. “If you do hold y/n’s hands, you’d be firm but gentle, wouldn’t you? You should apply the same touch to the egg whites!”

More gentle. More delicate. Kyoujurou can do that.

Determined, he picks up another egg and holds it up.

“I can do this!”

>>>

He’s been spending an awful lot of time with Mitsuri lately, you think to yourself.

You’re waiting in the dojo of the Rengoku Estate for Kyoujurou to show up, bokuto in hand and absentmindedly practicing your kata. He’s late by a few minutes, and although you normally wouldn’t mind that, he has mentioned earlier that he’s meeting with Mitsuri beforehand. What for, however, you don’t know.

Pausing in the middle of swinging your practice sword, you glance down at your feet, pursing your lips.

Since when had Kyoujurou start to have feelings for Mitsuri?

“I can’t believe he didn’t even tell me that he was interested her.” You mumble to yourself under your breath, feeling offended for some reason before guilt hits right after. It’s not that he has to tell you, so why do you feel so annoyed? It’s not his responsibility to tell you everything that goes on in his life, not his obligation.

The door slides open behind you all of a sudden.

“Who is interested in who?”

“Ah! Kyoujurou! Don’t just barge in like that!” You cry out in shock, fumbling with your bokuto before you can drop it. Kyoujurou laughs brightly at your reaction, his face flushed as if he’d run all the way here.

“My apologies for making you wait, I had to rush here!” He grins at you, moving to drop his belongings at the side of the dojo. You squint; there’s a lacquered box typically used to store desserts, was it from Mitsuri? Before you can ask him about it, he’s already picked up his practice sword and smiling at you, adjusting the tie of his hakama. “I hope you don’t mind too much that I’m late! Let us begin training, then!”

It’s only then that you notice that his hair is damp, and his clothes seem ruffled. You blink, trying to keep your expression neutral as you ready your own sword into a fighting stance, but on the inside, your mind is racing. What on earth was he doing with Mitsuri?

Well, not that it’s any of your business, anyway. If Kyoujurou is interested in Mitsuri and the girl reciprocates, you’ll be happy for the two of them! Happy... for the two of them... the two of them going out on dates... and kissing...

Oh. You don’t like that idea very much now.

Kyoujurou lunges forward, swinging his blade in a smooth upward stroke before you can clear your mind. “Flame Breathing, Second Form, Rising Scorching Sun!”

Distracted, you barely manage to change your grip in time. “Snow Breathing, Fourth Form, Hoarfrost!” Kyoujurou’s sword collides hard with yours, the sound of your blades meeting echoing in the dojo. You wince as Kyoujurou forces you back and quickly disengage, retreating a few steps.

“Flame Breathing, Fifth Form, Flame Tiger!” Kyoujurou follows up easily, relentless as he swings his blade. Sucking in a deep breath, you dive between his legs and lunge.

“Eighth Form, Winter Avalanche!”

“Your stance is off!” Kyoujurou calls over the din as you press him with a continuous barrage of strikes, countering with his own fourth form. “You’re not focused enough!”

Breaking off the attack, you leap back, adjusting your grip again.

What does Mitsuri have that you don’t? Is it because her hair is such a pretty colour? Because her personality is so bubbly and sweet? Because she bakes really nice western desserts and you can’t? You aren’t as outgoing, your hair is drab compared to even Kyoujurou’s, and-

… and the tip of Kyoujurou’s bokuto is resting against the your throat.

“You really are distracted today.” Kyoujurou comments, and you let out a little groan of disappointment as he lets the point of his sword fall. The expression on his face is one of genuine concern. “Is something the matter?”

Smacking yourself on the head in an attempt to rid yourself of all thoughts, you shake your head and ready your sword once more. Focus!

“I’m sorry, it was my fault.” You admit, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “Come on, let’s train properly. I’ll do better this time.”

“It’s not like you to be distracted, however.” Kyoujurou takes a step closer and you glance up to see him standing far too close to you, so close that your eyes are level with the exposed strip of skin from his collar. There’s a faintly sweet smell of burnt sugar and cream lingering on him, the very same scent that Mitsuri wears. Did he... “There is a flush on your cheeks and your pupils are dilated. Do you perhaps have a fever?”

Alarmed at his observation, you clap your hands over your cheeks and shake your head. Who? Flushed? Definitely not you. “I feel fine.” You desperately lie between your teeth. “Come on, let’s go another round!”

“Hmm.” Kyoujurou stares at you for a while longer before he takes a step back, a stroke of fortune for your madly pounding heart. “Well then, let us continue!”

Glad to have averted that crisis, you force your mind to stay on track for the rest of the training session, allowing Kyoujurou to pound every bit of distraction out of your bones with his bokuto. At the end of a series of matches, you’re sure that you’ve turned into one giant bruise, wobbling when you try to pick yourself off the ground and finally giving up, collapsing back onto the mats with an unintelligible groan.

“It was a good spar! We ended later than usual, today!” Kyoujurou enthuses as he sits cross legged next to you, seemingly still brimming with an unholy amount of energy. Staring at him for a few seconds more, you shake your head before letting yourself slump over on the ground, unable to comprehend how he’s not yet flopped over next to you out of sheer exhaustion.

“It’s your fault for coming late.” You grumble, feeling the ground dig into every bruise you have on your body. Too tired to think straight, you drag yourself over the floor to Kyoujurou, who’s tying his hair out of his eyes, and promptly pillow your head in his lap like you’ve done since you were kids.

His thigh stiffens under your touch, but he doesn’t remove himself from you. Instead, his hand reaches up to pull stray strands of your hair behind your ear, before his palm moves to rest gently on your cheek. “When is your next mission?”

He sounds slightly nervous.

“Hmm?” You’re too tired to put much thought into it, letting out a yawn. You’re just so tired, and you haven’t been getting proper sleep for the last few days, too wrapped up with thinking about the man in front of you. “I’m leaving tonight... I think. Some demon rampaging about in one of the northern mountains. Hopefully it’s not too much trouble.”

Maybe when you’re away from him for a bit, you’ll be able to clear your mind.

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Kyoujurou takes a deep breath, trying to bolster his courage. “When you come back... I have something important to tell you.” He says aloud, his voice solemn. Kyoujurou has never once thought of himself as a coward, but the thought of so much as confessing his feelings to you... it makes his heart swell and feel incomparably tiny at the same time.

You’d never break his heart on purpose, of course, but he knows the power you have over him. It’s one that you’re perhaps not even aware of, but he feels it keenly with every word you say, every smile you send his way. It scares him sometimes, but he’s learned that it’s as impossible to escape as gravity - he can only let himself fall.

When you don’t reply even after a full minute, Kyoujurou looks down in confusion to see your eyes shut and your breaths escaping you in tiny snores.

“Oh.” His heart trips in his chest at the sight. Reaching over carefully so as not to wake you, he tugs out his haori and places it over you. Quietly, Kyoujurou picks up a few strands of your hair and presses his lips to them, eyes soft as he watches you sleep. He should probably wake you up so that you can head off your mission, but he can’t bring himself to interrupt your rest just yet.

Kyoujurou glances at the lacquered box out of the corner of his eye, at the slight burns on his fingers, before he looks down at you once more. There’s an unspeakable emotion welling in his chest. He smiles.

“I can be patient.”

>>>

You’ve been moping for an entire afternoon.

Sure, your mission ended up successful, but it fell drastically short of your usual standards. You’d been so ridiculously distracted by your own thoughts that you’d nearly let one of the demons get away - and you are a Pillar! If Shinazugawa hears about this, he’ll never let you live it down.

Groaning in frustration, you sink your face into your pillow, eyes shut tightly. Even in the darkness, you still see a familiar grin seared into your mind, those captivating golden eyes looking straight into your soul. It’s been like this for days, you blame all your distractions on Rengoku Kyoujurou. If only he wasn’t so trustworthy, so kind, so passionate, so him-

You can almost hear the way he says your name. Have you really been thinking about him so much that you’re hallucinating about his voice? With another groan, you burrow yourself deeper into the blankets. Just when had you fallen for him so hard?

“I’m sorry for dropping by without a prior notice!” His voice continues to say, and you pause in burying yourself in blankets, confused. That doesn’t quite sound like your imagination... “May I come in? I have something to tell you.”

Bolting upright in shock, you throw the covers off your head to see the outline of him through the paper screen of your door. He’s actually here! In a panic, you try to comb down your hair as quickly as possible, smoothing out your robes before you rise to open the door for him.

“You know I don’t mind it when you come by.” You scold, standing to the side to let Kyoujurou in. In truth, you want to pull out your hair - the suddenness of his visit has left your heart racing in your chest, and you’re not even dressed in decent clothes! He’s dressed casually today, one of the rare times you see him out of his uniform. “Why the sudden visit, though?”

Kyoujurou pauses for a moment, and that’s when you notice the lacquered box in his hands, a small affair elaborately carved with flower and flame motifs. “Sit first,” he urges, and though a little confused, you do as he says. To your surprise, however, Kyoujurou doesn’t sit informally in front of you - instead, he adopts the formal seiza position with both legs folded beneath him and takes a deep breath.

Quite baffled, you reach out to tug at his sleeve. “Kyo, what are you doing?”

“Please give me a moment.” You’re stunned at the solemnity of Kyoujurou’s voice, his fingers gripping the box in his hands tightly. Is he perhaps nervous about something? Rengoku Kyoujurou, who smiles even in the face of demons and bloodshed, nervous? “I must build up my courage.”

At this point, you’re almost starting to panic from all the trepidation. Did something happen with Senjurou? His father? The possibilities popping up in your head seem to only get worse and worse, but since he asked you for time, you’ll give it to him. Anxious, you play with the hem of your robe, watching as Kyoujurou closes his eyes and breathes deeply for a few seconds. Just what is it he wants to tell you?

Kyoujurou’s eyes flash open all of a sudden, almost as if flames have ignited in them, and he thrusts the box he’s holding at you with both hands and an earnest expression on his face. He parts his lips to speak.

“This is cake!”

Stunned at the volume of his declaration, you blink down at the box being offered to you, before you look back up at the man before you, taking in the way his lips are pressed tightly together, his eyes focused on the spot just above your shoulder. “This is... cake?”

There’s a sharp inhale, and Kyoujurou nods his head vigorously, still quite determinedly not meeting your eyes. “Yes! It is cake!”

Still not quite understanding why he’s so nervous about a piece of cake, you take the box from Kyoujurou carefully, flipping open the lid. To your surprise, there’s a slice of castella cake nestled inside, the top glazed with burned sugar and a small silver fork lying next to it.

“You got me cake!” Kyoujurou’s heart thumps wildly in his chest as he watches you lift the box closer, your eyes sparkling and a happy grin on your face. All those sleepless nights and failed attempts are forgotten in an instant, they’re all worth it just to see you smile like this. “Thank you, Kyoujurou!”

“I’m glad you like it!” Kyoujurou replies loudly, trying to calm his heart so that he can focus on getting the correct words out this time. “Please enjoy it!”

You beam at him, picking up the fork. “It looks a little lopsided,” you say, and Kyoujurou swallows nervously. To be honest, he hadn’t been completely satisfied with this batch, but Mitsuri had run out of eggs and he’d been forced to give up. Kneading his thighs in anticipation, he watches with bated breath as you cut a piece with the fork and lift it to your mouth, chewing it thoughtfully.

Before his thoughts can run away with him, your expression brightens and you turn to look at him, licking the crumbs off the fork. “It tastes great! The burnt sugar on top makes it really sweet, I love it.” You cut another piece, and this time, lean forward to hold it up to his lips. “Here, you try a piece too!”

You’re too close. Your scent is muddling with his head, the heat you emanate dancing along his skin - he’s too keenly aware of it. He wants to wrap you in his arms, bury his face in your hair, draw you close. But now’s not the time for that.

Very slowly, he opens his mouth and takes a bite, eyes fixed on the way you smile radiantly at him. Kyoujurou doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he can’t quite bear the taste of castella after having tested so many over the last few days. “Mm, it’s good.” He says instead, and you grin, pleased.

“So, what is it that you needed to say to me today?” You hum cheerfully as you cut yourself another slice. Ah, right, he was supposed to... Then you pause, and your eyes narrow as you squint at him. “Do you need something from me? You know I’d do it even without the cake, yes?”

“No, there is no favour I need!” Kyoujurou hastens to answer. It’s something else that he wants from you, and to ask you to give it to him would require far more than a simple slice of cake. He takes another deep breath, eyes flickering to you as you take another bite.

Say it now, Rengoku Kyoujurou. Say it!

“I-”

“Oh, you were mentioning something about confessing a few days ago.” You interrupt him, and the words are trapped in his throat once again. “How did it go? Did that special someone...” you purse your lips, “accept your affections?”

Kyoujurou looks down at the piece of castella sitting in front of you, a deep sigh rising up in his chest. “Well, no. Actually, I still have not confessed.”

“Eh?” You look at him, clearly shocked. “Why not? That’s not like you, Kyo.”

He manages a small grin, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Perhaps because I am afraid of the possible rejection.” Kyoujurou says lightly. “I do not know what I would do if that person turns me down.”

He tells you this as casually as possible, but then you surprise him by looking up at him with those sincere eyes, clasping his hand tight in yours. “To have your affection like that, I think that person is very fortunate to be so precious to you.” You tell him earnestly, and his heart skips a beat in his chest. “Mitsuri would surely appreciate it if you tell her directly-”

Wait, Kanroji?

“The one I wanted to confess to is not Kanroji!” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, desperate to make his feelings known to you. Was that what you were thinking the entire time? That he was interested in pursuing Kanroji? “It is you.”

There’s a clatter as the fork in your hand falls to the ground, the sound echoing in his ears. You gape at him, before you look down at the cake in your hands, and then back to him. He sees the moment the pieces fall in place, and then a little noise of realization escapes your lips.

“Oh.”

He decides to speak before his courage can abandon him completely. “I’ve been wanting to say this for a while now. Kanroji advised me to pair the confession with a gift, hence the question. I wanted to give you something you would like.” You’re still staring at him with wide eyes, a dumbfounded expression on your face. Kyoujurou swallows, fists his hands in his hakama trousers, and opens his mouth to speak.

“I love you.”

You blink owlishly at him.

“You do not have to reciprocate.” Kyoujurou reassures. His chest feels lighter now that the words that have been residing there so long are finally aired. He rises to his feet. “I just wanted to let you know of my feelings for you. Then, I will take my leave first-”

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait.”

He glances down at you in surprise. Your own cheeks are a beautiful hue of crimson, rosy as the rising sun, but there’s a brilliant smile on your face as you look up at him. “Are you really going to leave without letting me accept? That’s terribly rude of you.” Your laughter reminds him of tinkling bells.

“I love you too, Kyoujurou.”

He pulls you in close to kiss you, your laughter imprinted along his lips before he buries his face in your hair to hide his smile. Your lips taste like sugar, sweeter than anything else in the world.

You’re what happiness tastes like.

#MY GOD THIS IS THE SAGA OF I REALLY WANT TO DELETE BUT IT WAS TOO MUCH EFFORT NOT TO POST #rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu rengoku #kimetsu kyojuro

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