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ficsforeren · 2 years

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Shadow Kiss

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: Vampire AU, Roommates AU, Smut, Fluff, Comedy

Summary: Supernatural creatures don’t scare you, so when the cute neighbor who lives just across the hallway offers you a chance to move in for cheaper rent, you agree in a heartbeat–even when he consumes human blood on a daily basis and making thirst trap videos on TikTok for a living.

Warnings: vampire sex, drunk sex, sex in front of a mirror, blood sucking, unprotected sex, slight choking, swearing, alcohol consumption.

Word Count: 18K (I'm sorry, he's such a diva in this fic, I had to include a lot of his crazy antics 💀)

I'm very proud to announce that this is my first collab with Nokky from @rainbuniart! Thank you for the amazing drawing, baby. I can't wait to see your Vampire Prince Eren fanart next 😍😍😍

Supernatural things don’t really scare you. Growing up in a family that tells urban legends and mystical myths as bedtime stories makes you feel somewhat reserved toward spooky stuff, to the point that you won’t even bat an eyelash during a jump scare at literally any scary movie out there. It’s not like you’ve seen any supernatural creatures with your own eyes but you believe in their existence, especially when you live in a town where freaky things happen on a daily basis.

You’re not sure about werewolves and zombies, but vampires do roam the earth the second the moon replaces the sun. It’s not merely a rumor anymore, it’s a fact. But they keep their presence a secret, trying to act as humanly as possible so they won’t gather unnecessary attention. And since no one has found any dead bodies with bite marks or severe blood loss, people don’t identify them as a threat. You perceive things similarly. As long as they don’t bother you, then you can coexist in peace. That’s what you believe.

So when you visit your neighbor in the middle of the night, the unbelievably hot guy who lives just across the hallway, you figure you’ll see him smiling back, maybe even offer you a cup of coffee out of courtesy. Now, you don’t usually barge into someone else’s apartment even when the front door is unlocked, but seeing how the two of you are already on a first-name basis, always greeting each other with a nod whenever your eyes make eye contact, you think to yourself, Yeah, he wouldn’t mind if I come in, would he? What’s the worst thing that could happen anyway? He’s too cute to be a serial killer. Which, you realize soon enough, was poor, terrible logic on your part.

But you twist open his doorknob with a click and invite yourself in.

So clearly, you did not expect to see him sitting bare-chested on the couch with his girlfriend’s legs hooked around his waist. Clearly, you did not expect to see his hand yanking at the roots of her hair, forcing her to expose the column of her neck and making her call his name in the most wanton moan you’ve ever heard in your life—even if you’ve had a fair share of watching porn movies (for, umm, research purposes). And you most clearly did not expect to see him sinking his canines deep into her skin, paying no mind to the hot, crimson liquid that taint her bare shoulder, and groaning in bliss as he relishes the taste of her blood.

So naturally, the only thing you can think of is:

Oh shit.

“Wait!” A hand finds its way to tangle around your wrist when you slip behind his front door to run back to your apartment. His icy cold skin makes you flinch in surprise but you keep your face still. As you turn around to see the owner, you’re greeted by a pair of red, glowing eyes. You remember precisely that your neighbor, who you assume is in his early twenties, has a pair of emeralds instead of rubies. But perhaps your mind is playing a trick on you because, by the time you blink, they change back to green, only this time, they look darker than the night.

His brunette hair is long enough to cascade down to his shoulders, seeming unbelievably soft and silky as it frames his strong cheekbones. His lips and cheeks are smeared with fresh blood, possibly from trying to wipe his mouth in a haste with the back of his hand. His fangs are no longer shown and although he seems breathless, you can tell he’s not breathing from how still his chest is moving (but you’re too distracted with the sight of how toned it is to care). And his abs… Let’s not talk about his abs, you mentally slap yourself, knowing that you could make a whole PowerPoint presentation to inform the world about how perfect they are. His black jeans are hanging dangerously low on his hips, unbuttoned but not yet unzipped, and it’s harder for you to not stare at his V-lines compared to the amount of blood that painted his lips.

Trying to act nonchalant, you simply ask, “Yes?”

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you're not a vampire who was drinking blood from your girlfriend’s neck a few seconds ago?”

He gapes, eyes growing wide, before, “Okay, then it is what it looks like.”

You retract your hand, giving him a formal nod. “Cool.”

“Cool?”

“Yeah, as in, no problem.” You nonchalantly shrug. “You've got a kink. I understand.”

“No, I mean—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, somewhat dizzy from your reaction. “Why are you so calm about this?”

Your forehead creases in confusion. “Would you rather have me freaking out and tell our landlord that you’ve been spilling a maiden’s blood on his carpet?”

“Well, no, but—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Also, I’m a professional. I don’t leave stains.”

Your eyes drift down to the carpeted floor underneath him, stained by a few droplets of crimson. “Sure, you don’t.”

The man, catching your gaze, turns flustered. “That was from last night. I was in a hurry.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I haven’t spilled anything today.”

“Congratulations, I’m impressed.” You clap your hands twice, face blank. “Well anyway, I guess I owe you an apology. I didn’t mean to sneak into your apartment without permission and disturb your…” You scratch your cheek, attempting to find the right word. “Late night snacking time—”

“Oh, God.” He rubs his palm over his face but before he can protest any further, his lover is calling him from the inside of his room.

“Eren, baby, come back to me. I haven’t cummed yet.”

You stare flatly at him, trying not to look as judgmental as possible but most likely failing terribly at it. “She sounds nice.”

He mirrors the look on your face. “Yeah, well, she tastes nice.”

“Ugh, too much info there, buddy.”

“No, I mean, her blood, not her—” You’re not sure whether vampires can blush but this one surely seems like he can. “Why did you even come here again?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You recall. “This is completely cliche and I wish I could provide a better excuse but I was making coffee and I ran out of sugar. Do you have some I can borrow? And maybe some cream?”

“Seriously?” It’s supposed to be a sarcastic response, but when he sees you nodding your head, he adds, “Do I look like I drink coffee in my spare time?”

“You spend eternity without drinking coffee?” You gasp, laying a hand on your heart. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Leave. Please.”

***

On the next evening, you find yourself crossing the hallway and knocking on his apartment door again. Knowing how patience has never been one of your virtues, you spin his doorknob after your third knock. Like last night, it’s unlocked with a click so you invite yourself in, calling his name.

“Jaeger, are you here—”

“I really need to fix that stupid lock.”

The sound of his voice startles you when he suddenly walks into view, but not as much as the sight of him with a towel hanging around his neck. His long dark hair is pushed back, dripping water to his bare chest. You know you shouldn’t look but that’s exactly what you’re doing, following those droplets as they slide down his navel, soaking the towel he has wrapped around his waist.

He notices you’re staring and he lets you take as much time as you want to marvel at his body. When you come back to your senses, bringing your eyes back to his face, he tosses you a small smirk, “So, how was it?”

“How—“ You clear your throat. “How was what?”

“The experience of running your virgin eyes over my god-like abs.”

You cough once but other than that, you succeed at keeping yourself reticent and unfazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So, you’re fine seeing me with human blood on my face but completely left in shock when I’m half-naked?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You sound like a robot with the vocabulary of a toddler.

“You do know us vampires can tell when you’re lying, right? We can hear your heartbeat.”

Fantastic. “Oh, yeah, that’s right.” If acting nonchalant doesn’t work, it’s time to bite back with sarcasm—that’s always been your motto. “Because you totally heard me walking into your apartment last night.”

“That—” He clears his throat. “I was… distracted.”

“You mean you were too horny to notice.”

“You—” He let out a harsh breath, perhaps a habit he invented to make him seem more human? “Are you going to visit me every day? ‘Cause I’m gonna have to file a complaint if you are.”

“Can’t I greet my neighbor?” You sweetly ask, batting your eyelashes.

He snorts loudly but walks away, throwing himself on the couch. “Seriously, why aren’t you surprised about this?”

“About you being a vampire? Or about your God awful taste in women?”

“Yeah?” He mocks back, making a face. “As if your boyfriend Armin Arlert is any better.” When he sees you tuck your chin, seemingly mortified, he snickers. “Enlighten me, Princess. How does it feel to have a lover that can only last for one minute during—”

“Okay, I’ll take my words back. Everything. Can we move on, please?” You try to yank yourself back to your normal state, even when you feel downright ashamed. “So, this vampire thing. How long have you been a vampire?”

“Long enough.”

“How old were you when you first turned?”

“Young enough.”

“How often do you drink human blood?“

“Often enough.”

You glare at him, earning a sly grin in return. “You’re not taking me seriously, are you?”

He sends you the best solemn expression he can manage, even when his lips are itching to form a smirk. “Serious enough.”

“Right, okay, I’m leaving. Have fun being an asshole for eternity.”

But the second you pivot in your heels, Eren is already on the other side of the room. His superhuman speed startles you, almost knocking you off your balance. Closing the front door, Eren leans his back against it. “Now, now,” he croons, tilting his head, “You come in as you please, uninvited. You don’t think I’ll let you go just like that, do you?”

You raise an eyebrow in question. “What do you want?”

“I think it’s something that we both want.” He steps closer, his husky voice turning smooth and alluring. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”

You gulp, suddenly becoming nervous. He’s an arms reach away, and then closer, and closer until you can feel his cold fingers tracing against your cheekbone. He lifts your face, locking his striking green eyes with yours and you swear, you see them glow.

“I’m—” You can feel your breathing stutter. “I’m not giving you my blood.”

“But it’s not blood that I want from you.” His eyes are hooded, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “I’ve been thinking about this lately, so much that I could barely think about anything else.”

Your heart is a ticking bomb inside your chest. “A-about what?”

He pulls back his lips, showcasing a pair of white fangs that petrifies you at once. He dives his head, the tip of his canines grazing against the supple skin of your neck before he shifts closer to your ear and he whispers.

“About our rent. Do you want to move in together so we can split the rental fee?”

***

It’s both ridiculous and dumb, his offer to move in together for cheaper rent, so it’s even more ridiculous and dumb when you agree to it. Several reasons make sense, actually—at least, to you anyway: 1) your neighbor may be a vampire but he’s super hot and although that doesn’t make everything okay, it does make his offer sound incredibly tempting, 2) your landlord is going to raise the rent in the following two months, 3) your part-time job’s salary can only cover so much of your living cost and you have no savings whatsoever, 4) if you can ignore the fact that he brings random girls at night for midnight snacks, he becomes much, much more attractive.

Of course, there are risks to think about as well. Sharing a place with another person can be a hassle, so you can only imagine how problematic it would be to share your home with a vampire. What if he loses control? What if he gets too thirsty and starts drinking from you instead?

You swallow hard. The thought of it is actually kind of… sexy.

Armin. You mentally slap yourself in the head. You have a boyfriend, you idiot. Stop having a crush on your damn neighbor.

But it's not like there is anything serious going on with Armin, is it? You guys were just lab partners in high school, went on a couple of dates, had a terribly awkward first kiss, had a heavy make-out session with him ejaculating under one minute when you dry-humped him on the couch of your living room and that’s it. You like him, he likes you, but yeah, nothing serious.

“My apartment or yours?” You ask Eren after a week has passed by, the second he opens his door for you. “Your apartment is bigger, but mine is cleaner.”

“Whatever you want, Princess,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t mind as long as we can split the fee.”

“Yeah, why is that? You’re running out of money?”

His smirk instantly falters. It takes him a few seconds before he answers in chagrin, "Yeah."

"You've been alive for what, centuries? And you're still broke?"

Your judging tone makes him tighten his jaws. “Well, it’s not exactly easy for vampires to get a job these days.”

“You literally have superhuman skills.”

“Well, you guys have technology!” He throws his hands in the air, absolutely disgusted with the word by the sight of it. “And the Internet! Sure, I can run pretty fast, I have super hearing and super strength—hell, I can see in the dark too but these fucking technologies can do literally everything I’m capable of—and everything I’m not capable of—with only a few clicks! Do you think that’s fair? For me, an eight hundred-year-old vampire, to be pushed aside like this by a goddamn remote? And what is that thing you guys do on your phones where you dance to random songs and do things like taking off your shirt— ”

“You mean TikTok?”

“YES!” He exclaims dramatically with his head thrown back. “I fucking hate that thing! Back in my days, we needed to use flattery and gold and gifts to win a lady’s heart—not me, though, have you seen this face?” His cocky smirk returns for a few seconds to make a point before he starts raging again. “But look at them now! They just took off their clothes and they got hundreds of girls saying, Mmm, Daddy, spit in my mouth and call me a whore—how is that fair?! I also want to spit in a girl’s mouth and call her a whore without having her file a restraining order against me!”

Never in your life would you have thought that you’d see a vampire complaining about TikTok’s thirst traps with his cheeks puffing out in anger, but here you are. “Do you need a hug?”

He’s still pouting but he weakly shrugs. “Yeah, okay.”

“There, there.” You give him a pat on his back as he leans down so you can reach his height. “I’ll teach you how to make a thirst trap video someday, how about that?”

He nods like a child. “Promise?”

“Promise.” You pull away, squeezing his shoulders. “Don’t worry, you’ll get through this. So, about moving in together. Shall we talk about house rules and stuff?”

“Sure, but before that,” he sweetly smiles, opening his door wider for you. “Come in. I won’t bite.”

It’s something about him using that poor choice of words with that teasing smirk on his face that makes your stomach feel uneasy but you nod and let yourself in. As he closes the door, he adds, “Unless that's what you’re into.”

“Getting my blood drunk by a vampire?” You scoff, trying to steady your racing heart though he can probably tell already. “Why would it be something I’m into?”

“Well, my ladies surely enjoyed it,” he chuckles and you secretly think to yourself, yeah because you’re fucking hot, that’s why, but you keep yourself ignorant on the outside. “But if you’re ever curious,” he coos, eyes gleaming as he snatches a hair tie from his wrist, pushes his bangs back with one hand, and ties his hair up messily in a bun. “I’m down anytime you want.”

You shudder, but from disgust or excitement, you’re not sure. “Thanks, but no thanks. So, house rules?”

***

It turns out to be shockingly easy to share an apartment with an undead creature of the night. Your source of information regarding vampires is from the collection of your young adult supernatural novels, ranging from something serious like Interview with The Vampire to something mediocre like The Vampire Diaries, and something absolutely ridiculous and downright outrageous like Twilight. So it’s not really surprising when your first assumption of vampires are dead people who look unusually pale but strikingly attractive, have constant frowns on their faces as they brood over literally everything that’s happening as if they’re constipated all the time (they’re not since vampires don’t have that bodily function anymore) and kill people in their spare time by sucking their blood dry.

But Eren isn’t like that at all. At one point, you have to remind yourself that he’s a vampire who's lived for 845 years and not a brat going through puberty.

Because Eren isn’t pale, his skin is tan as if he was kissed by the sun when he has been hiding from it his whole life. It’s smooth, unscarred, and almost golden under the fluorescent light of your apartment.

He’s not heartless either. He cried (he wouldn’t admit it but he did) when he watched Hachiko, even when the dog owner was still alive and well. He kept shouting to the screen, “Bad shit is going to happen. Bad shit is going to happen to the dog—look how cute that dog is—look just how fucking cute he is—he doesn’t deserve any pain—if this dog dies by the end of the movie, I will combust!" By the end of the movie when the dog died (oops spoiler alert), Eren was bawling his eyes out, coughing and choking and everything. At one point, he even said, “Fuck, I feel like I’m about to throw up my intestines.”

“Chill, dude. It's just a movie.”

“THEY SAID IT WAS BASED ON A TRUE STORY, YOU COLD-BLOODED WITCH!”

So the thought of him killing someone by sucking their blood dry? Seems very unlikely.

And he’s not broody or angry all the time. Yes, Eren has quite a temper, but he’s extremely playful and annoyingly mischievous. He keeps his stock of blood in empty bottles of red wine and places them inside the fridge with a handwritten note that says: “It’s really just wine, Princess. I bought some as a housewarming gift. Come take a sip.” You did, once, out of curiosity, and from that day on you promised yourself that you would never trust his words ever again for as long as you live.

Being a monster, he should’ve been the cause of people’s fear, but in reality, Eren gets startled easily by a lot of things—even the things that shouldn’t scare a baby. You will never forget the day when a loud crash came thundering from his room, two seconds before he came barging into yours, screaming, “THERE’S A COCKROACH FLYING IN MY ROOM!”

“And what did you do?”

“I THREW THE TV AT IT BUT THAT FUCKING THING STILL LIVES!”

“What?! But that’s our TV!”

“IT WAS FLYING TO MY FACE AND I PANICKED—WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!”

Even a butterfly that sneaks in from the window makes him jump on his feet. It was cute the first two times it happened, but seeing how he keeps on throwing random things—your phone, included—to keep the bugs away, you probably should start adding another house rule.

Speaking about rules, they’re pretty basic. It’s settled that you’ll both do your cleaning separately. No borrowing things without permission, no spending too much time in the bathroom because although he doesn’t need to go to the toilet, Eren enjoys drawing himself a warm bubble bath for hours. He'd do the most cliche things too, like putting Michael Bublé’s songs on speaker, taking a sip of his ‘red wine’ and calling it the perfect “Bublé Bath.” Now, you might think he would look fancy when he does it. His beautiful long hair grazing his shoulders; the colorful bubbles (yes, he’s using rainbow bath bombs) doing a poor, poor job at hiding his God-like body; his tongue running across his lower lip to wipe the blood before it dribbles down his chin, maybe even a sight of his fangs peeking out behind his devilish smirk. H-O-T. But it turns out that’s not the case.

Imagine walking into the bathroom to find a vampire chilling inside your tub, his legs draping on the edge, his fist curling in the air as if he was holding an invisible microphone in his hand. He'd have his eyes closed as he belted out his high notes, passionately singing, "Let me go homeeeeeeee" as if he was auditioning for a lead role in Mamma Mia. This is what you have to deal with every Sunday morning.

And you’re fine with him bringing girls over to your place as long as he does his midnight snacking in his own room. You were against it at first, but then you figure that you’re going to have Armin in your room from time to time too (your date night is cheaper this way) so you really don’t have the right to forbid him.

But man, if only you could take your words back.

Because when Eren said his ladies surely enjoyed it when he drank from them, you didn’t think that they would enjoy it this much. And you didn’t think that drinking blood from a human equals having sex with them all night long.

The sound of “Aah, yes, fuck me just like that,” and “Bite me again, Eren, please, I want you to bite me just as hard as you fuck me,” can be heard coming endlessly from his bedroom whenever he brings a girl over—sometimes even two at the same time. You have to plug your AirPods into your ears to tone down your suffering, blasting the volume to the max until you can literally feel your ears turn deaf. Even when you’ve pulled your pillow over your head, you can still hear them. Your apartment has excellent sound-proofed walls so your neighbors don’t really hear the loud screeches they’re making, but for you who sleeps in your bed just across the living room? A living hell.

Fortunately, it doesn’t happen every day. It doesn’t happen every week, even, since he always keeps some stocks of blood in the fridge.

“Did you take this blood from those girls?” You grimaced one night, as you opened your refrigerator to slide in your leftover and noticed three huge bottles of red wine filled up to the brim.

He laughed, waving a hand. “Of course not, stupid. How could I even do that in the first place? I bought some blood bags from the hospital, obviously.” He was sitting on the couch before but when he delivered his next line, he suddenly stood behind you, lips hovering dangerously close to your ear. “And just in case you’re wondering,” you could feel his smirk grazing your earlobe. “I only drink directly when I want to have sex.”

The heat was spreading almost immediately to your cheeks so you hid it by throwing a punch to his stomach, which he easily dodged. “Still,” you complained, “There’s blood in my fridge.”

“Hey, I never complain when you keep your celery juice in there.” He scrunched his nose in disgust. “I don’t eat or drink human foods, but who the fuck drinks celery juice?”

***

Eren is also quite passionate and it shows whenever he talks about something that he likes or intrigues him. It’s nice to have someone to fill the silence, moving from one random topic to another, never letting an awkward pause stretch out for too long. But he can also be exceptionally annoying when you have some paperwork to do and he’s bothering you because he’s bored out of his mind. He’ll start pestering you with questions—unimportant questions—like, “If you only have one eye, are you blinking or winking?” Or “Why is it that when you are sleeping it’s called drool but when you are awake it’s called spit?” And the stupidest of them all, “Why did Superman wear his briefs on the outside of his tights?”

And you’ll eventually start to lose it, throw a pillow to his face and yell, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

But by the end of the day, it’s really fun to have him around. Not just because you can secretly enjoy the sight of him coming out of your shared bathroom with only a towel hanging low around his hips, but also because he’s a vampire and you can spend your time doing actual research about it.

“So,” you began one day after the sun had sunk below the horizon and he crawled out of his room with the biggest bird’s nest on his head. You had a romance novel on your lap, your fingers running through the pages. “Are you like an actual vampire or are you the romanticized, somewhat gay vampire they usually depict in books?”

“Well, I’ve been with a few men before but I still prefer women better.” He took a seat beside you on the couch, laying his feet on the coffee table. You kind of just stared at him, not exactly judging his words, just… bewildered. Noticing the look on your face, he added, “When you’ve lived for a century, you gotta learn how to keep things interesting, even if that means having a dick in your mouth.”

“That’s…” You swallowed. “Not exactly something I want to imagine.”

"You've never had a dick in your mouth? That's sad."

"I meant, imagining you."

"Oh." His devilish smirk returned. “You should, though. Try picturing me with your boyfriend Armin for a sec. Don’t we look cute together?” You had to look away when he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You just had to. “Actually, I don’t care what their biological sex, gender, or gender identity is,” Eren shrugged. “As long as they’re pretty and not hairy, I’ll sleep with them.”

“You’re okay with all genders but you can’t handle pubic hair?”

“No, I meant, hairy. Like a werewolf.”

“You’ve slept with a werewolf?!” You gaped. “I didn’t know they even existed!”

“Yep, not doing that again.” He shuddered at the memory. “I had fur in my butthole because of that.”

“You know there are things you can share, and there are things you should bring to your grave. That last one is the latter.”

“Sorry, can’t do that. You see, I don’t have a grave.”

He didn’t have one, true, but you were so tempted in making one for him right then. “So, these vampire books you said you read,” Eren went back to the previous topic after cackling for a whole ten seconds at the aggravated look on your face. “How do they depict us exactly?”

“You’ve never read one?”

“Have you ever read any books about humans written by vampires?”

“Fair point. Well, it said that vampires couldn’t see themselves in the mirror.”

“Myth,” he replied, leaning his head against the couch. “I can see myself in the mirror and I like seeing myself just as much as you do whenever I come out of the bathroom.”

You almost choked on the cinnamon cookie you just ate. “Excuse me?!” You coughed, eyes starting to get a little teary. “Who said I like looking at you?”

“You don’t?” The way his eyes twinkled made you a little bit weak. A puckish grin grew apparent on his face. “You sure about that?”

You cleared your throat, flipping another page of your book. “Next question,” you continued, ignoring the soft laugh he emitted. “Do garlic, holy water, and silver scare you?”

“They don’t scare me,” he clicked his tongue, vexed by the way you composed your words. “I just don’t like them.”

“Right, so that’s a yes. Do you have to be invited in to be able to enter someone’s home?”

He ground his jaw, bitterly muttering, “Yes.”

“Can you read someone’s thoughts?”

“No, but I can tell how they’re feeling through their heartbeat.” His eyes were boring into yours, lips curving upward. “Like you, for example. I can tell that whenever I’m around you, your heartbeat runs just a little bit faster.”

You glanced away, rubbing your nose. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Ah,” he showcased his perfect marbled teeth as he grinned knowingly. “Just like that. Your heartbeat is increasing again. Are you lying to me, Princess?”

“You’re so annoying, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Speaking of that,” you immediately said, knowing it was the perfect chance to avert his attention to another topic. “Can you charm someone?”

“With these looks?” He gestured to his entire body. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” But when you started scowling at him, he added, “But if you’re talking about mind compulsion, yes, I am able to do that. I can erase and alter people’s memories, even controlling them only by making eye contact.”

“That sounds pretty convenient.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like doing it.” The sudden change in his attitude left you frowning. He seemed pensive as he fixed his gaze on the ceiling. “I’ve done that many times in the past and I didn’t—” He released a sharp breath, as if talking about it reminded him of something that he loathed about himself. “I hated it.”

You tilted your head to the side, curiosity gnawing at your chest. “What… did you do exactly? If you don’t mind answering.”

His jaw tightened, seemingly conflicted for a couple of seconds before he forced himself to smile. “I do mind, actually.”

“Oh, umm… Sorry.” Eren, like everybody else, had secrets he wished he could keep to himself. And that was fine, you should respect his privacy. But seeing how he had no problems sharing everything else with you made you wonder even more, even slightly worried. Did he trick people to give him their blood? You mused. No, if he only did that, he wouldn’t look this distraught. A hint of dread crawled up your skin. What if he did… something worse? What if he—

“What are you brooding about?” He lightly nudged you with his elbow, tittering. “Relax, I’m not gonna use compulsion on you. Hypnotizing someone to get what I want just doesn’t sit right with me. I want to feel a connection, you know?”

You could tell how much he wanted you both to act casual, pretending like he didn’t say anything weird. Deciding to honor his privacy, you dismissed the matter for now and went back to your regular teasing. “So doing one night stands with vampire groupies is the perfect way to earn that connection, I suppose?”

He had his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he grew both irked and amused at your comeback. “You really know how to attack someone’s pride, huh?”

“Part of my charm,” you mimicked him with a nod. “Okay, next question. Can you die with a wooden stake piercing your heart?”

He rolled his eyes. “Everybody dies with a stake in—what is this, an interrogation?”

“Do churches—”

“Okay, Princess.” He closed your book, his smile stretching widely but it wasn’t enough to reach his eyes. “I think that’s enough. My turn now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, not entirely pleased with the way he just suddenly changed the direction of your conversation. “What do you want to know?” You indulged him anyway.

He tilted his head, propping his elbow on his thigh, fingers tapping against his cheek as he rested his chin on his palm. Gazing at you intensely, he asked, “Are you a virgin?”

It didn’t take even a split second for your cheeks to turn warm. “T-that’s—What kind of question is that—”

“Ah, so you are.” His smile grew a bit larger, but you weren’t sure whether he was entertained, aroused, or just excited to mock you about it. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me a lot lately? Because you’re curious?”

“For the last time,” you emphasized, though your heart was hammering against your rib cages. “I wasn’t looking at you. I never—”

“You’re adorable when you lie,” he snickered, a lopsided grin painting his face. “Your heartbeat sounds like you just did a marathon. Are you okay?”

You threw your book at him, successfully wiping the smirk on his goddamn perfect face before you raced back to your room.

“Ah, she’s really cute.” Was the last thing you heard him say before you slammed your bedroom door behind you.

***

For a vampire, Eren’s presence is as blinding as the sun, always managing to lift your mood whenever you’re too stressed out about your college assignments or drained from your part-time job. Of course, he’s also the cause of your stress more often than not, but whenever you get into a fight with him—usually because he’s so disorganized and you’re too obsessive to keep everything in order—it doesn’t last long and it always ends up with him making you the best dinner you’ve ever had to compensate for his actions, even when he’s not the one at fault.

Eren doesn’t consume human food but he makes the best cuisine you’ve ever tasted in your life. And the sight of him wearing your apron with his bangs tied to the side using your hairclip is really, really something to behold—which is weird because that obviously doesn’t scream sexy in any way, or masculine even, but it never fails to make your stomach somersault in delight.

“Dinner is served, Milady,” he says, laying down a plate of Spaghetti Aglio e Olio in front of you, making you gawk at the sight. “And it’s special because it contains a lot of garlic—seriously, like a lot. I had to put some gloves on and everything.”

“You’re an angel.” You nearly cry and it’s not an exaggeration. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.”

“Well, I haven’t really thanked you for covering my rent last month so…”

“It’s fine, you can pay me back later.” You take a hold of your fork, moistening your lips in anticipation, and wasting not a second longer before you dig in. When the cheese melts inside your mouth, you almost moan in joy. “Oh my God, this is so good. I love you.”

He chuckles, suddenly standing behind you, leaning forward so he’s right next to your ear. “Yeah? How much?”

You raise your silver spoon in the air and he immediately leaps to the other side of the kitchen, startled and terrified out of his mind. “Hey, that’s not cool!” He barks. “I thought we'd talked about this!”

Rolling your eyes at him, you take another spoonful of the dish. “Man, you should really make a job out of this,” you comment. He only cooks whenever he feels sorry for you for going through a hard day—whether it was because of him or something else—but if that’s what it takes to have this magnificent cuisine enter your mouth, you don’t mind suffering more often.

“I really should, huh?” He takes a seat on the kitchen counter, his legs dangling a few inches in the air. He ties his hair up in a bun like he always does, with a few strands of his baby hair falling to his temple. “I’m really running low on money.”

“I thought vampires were supposed to be rich and, like, noble.”

“You’re confusing us with Aristocrats.” He grieves. “I used to be filthy rich, actually.”

“And now, you’re like this. What happened? Did you get robbed?” You chuckle to yourself but he’s not laughing. He’s doing that thing again where he turns pensive, his lips squeezed tight as if he was trying to keep his thoughts away from morphing into words. “Sorry, that wasn’t funny.”

“It was kinda funny.” His little smile returns, albeit a bit forced and awkward. “Do you think I can get a night shift at a restaurant downtown?”

“Oh, I actually know a place. I’ll take you there tomorrow.”

“Like on a date?”

You almost drop your fork. “Why do you have to make everything weird?”

His cheeky grin is contagious but you’ve become a master of handling your expression. “I just like seeing you turn all flustered,” he confesses. “Have I told you how cute you are?”

“Today? Not yet,” you mutter as you munch on your food. “Yesterday? Approximately two hundred and thirty-five times.”

“Then I’ll try to break another record today.” He throws you a wink.

“Shut up and let me eat in peace, please.”

***

“Eren.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop posting a goddamn selfie every ten minutes!” You almost throw your phone to his face but since it’ll be a waste, you decide to throw your shoe instead. “I didn’t teach you how to use Instagram for this!”

Eren easily dodges every single thing you’re flinging at him. “Didn’t you tell me to promote my cooking skill? That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“How does this—” You show your phone’s screen to him, almost smacking him in the face with how fast and hard you’re doing it. You slide your thumb over his Instagram feeds, showing more than fifty different pictures of his close-up face (and he just made that account two days ago, Jesus Christ). “—promote your cooking skill?!”

“But, look,” he guides you, clasping his hand around yours so you’re both holding your phone. He taps from one picture to another. “This is me holding a spatula. This is me boiling water and this is me pouring barbecue sauce—”

“Oh my God.” You almost yank every hair out of your head—or out of his head. “I follow more than four hundred people and all I can see on my timeline is your damn selfies!”

“Correction, my damn cute selfies.” He pecks your cheek. “You’re welcome, Princess.”

But all jokes aside, it actually works. His adorable (and hot) selfies—no matter how bad you hate to admit it—are attracting more followers each day that by the time a week has passed by, he has gained more followers than you have (and you’ve had your account for three years, shame on you).

And in the following two months, he gets his first endorsement deal.

“I can’t believe this,” you say, gaping as you stare over his shoulder to take a glimpse at his phone’s screen, shamelessly reading his direct messages. He’s getting an offer to become a brand ambassador for this little bakery that has a cover photo of a lady with chubby cheeks baking cupcakes. “I can’t believe there are people crazy enough to hire you.”

“Hey, privacy!” He immediately stands up from the couch, covering his screen with his palm. “I could’ve been sending nudes!”

“You’re sending nudes?”

“Well, not my nudes.” He rolls his eyes.

“How is that any better?!”

“Look, I’m busy. I got a gig.” He grins proudly. “I’m on my way to becoming a celebrity, babe. Do you want my autograph now before it’s too late? I could sign your bra if you want. I mean, I’m totally down if you want me to sign your tits, but if you ever think that could be awkward—”

You smack his head with a spatula.

***

“What are you doing?”

You question the vampire the second you push open your bathroom door, catching him in the middle of lifting his shirt in a slow, sensuous manner as he casts a sexy smirk at his camera. He sighs at your presence, yanking his white wifebeater back down before he picks up his phone. “I’m making a thirst trap,” he explains, not even sparing you a glance. “People have been begging me to join TikTok so I made one last week and now I’m trying to reach a thousand followers by Sunday. I only need about a hundred more.”

“By making thirst trap videos?” It’s more like a statement than a question. The disgust in your voice is apparent but he plays ignorant.

"Obviously,” Eren says, tapping his thumb against his screen. Snickering, he adds, “They call me Daddy now.”

“God.”

“I won’t call myself a God, but,” he chuckles, hurling a flirtatious wink. “If that's how you think of me, sure. Also, what do you know about OnlyFans? They want me to make one too.”

“Kill me. Just kill me now and end my suffering. Please.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” He snorts. “Hey, recommend me a song for my thirst trap. I want one that makes me look like I’m the filthiest whore in town.”

“You already look like the filthiest whore in town.”

“Aaw.” He’s flattered. He’s actually flattered. “Thanks, babe. You too.” He puckers his lips, making a kissy face. “Now, enough with the praise. Let’s go back to this. I’m thinking about using Britney’s Gimme More but—”

“Oh my God, Ren, a cockroach!” You point a finger at the marbled floor, shouting as dramatically as possible.

“FUCK—WHERE?!” The second he’s distracted—yelping like a little girl—you jump on your feet, snatching away his phone. “Hey, what are you—”

Dashing toward the front door, you shout back, “I’M BURNING DOWN YOUR PHONE!”

“WHAT—GET BACK HERE!”

***

It’s your first date night after passing nearly half a year without contacting Armin due to him going overseas for his student exchange program, and now that he’s back, you’re nervous for various reasons.

First, you haven’t told Armin you’ve been sharing a place with a guy.

Second, you certainly haven’t told him that this guy is a vampire.

Third, you absolutely in any way cannot tell him that you’ve been secretly crushing on this guy while your boyfriend was away studying.

And last but not least, you know that if anything happens tonight, whether it ends up with you fighting with Armin or finally losing your virginity to him, Eren can hear every single thing.

So you barge into his room, hand laying on the front of his bedroom door as you push it open. “Eren.”

Like always, he’s laying idly on his bed, head almost dangling on the edge of it with his smartphone in his hands. “Yes, baby?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “How many times should I tell you? Don’t call me that.”

“You’re not my baby anymore?” He fakes a loud gasp. “I am shocked.”

“Armin is coming over tonight.”

His movements stop abruptly. “I didn’t realize you were still with him.”

“Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be? He’s been nothing but sweet to me.”

His eyes lose the mischievous spark he usually displays in them. “And yet, you keep drooling over my body. Can’t say I’m not hurt.”

“I never—” You exhale loudly, throwing your head back. “I’m not going to have this conversation again. He’s coming over tonight to have dinner—”

“But you’re a shitty cook.”

“By dinner, I mean take-outs,” you admit your defeat. “Anyway, I came here to ask you a favor.”

“Princess,” he calls, turning over to his stomach so he can face you without having to see you upside down. “I know I said I wanted to make things interesting, but having a threesome with you and Armin? So suddenly like this? Don’t you think it’s gonna be a little awkward between us? I barely know the dude. You should at least tell me what kind of person he is, whether he likes action movies or romantic ones, whether he blames someone else when he farts—I need to know him before I have his dick in my mouth.”

Talking to him gives you headaches, you should’ve really come prepared. “Are you done?”

“Do you still want me to continue? Okay, well—”

“Shut up, please for the love of God, shut up.” You know you should take your leave before he starts yapping again. “Look, that super hearing thing you have? Can you turn it off just for one night?”

“Sure thing. Click,” he says, snapping his fingers near his ear. “Done. Now I’m deaf.”

You flatly stare at him. “I’m serious.”

“Whaaaaat? I can’t heaaaaar youuuu.”

“Eren!”

He groans loudly, rolling his eyes. “Well, it’s not like my ears have on-and-off buttons I can just switch, okay? What do you want from me?”

He’s right, there’s nothing you can do. “Then, can you leave the apartment for the night?”

He opens his mouth wide, hand going to his chest. “You’re kicking me out of my own apartment? This is heresy!”

“Eren, please!” Great, now you’re stomping your feet like a child. “I just really need some privacy for tonight.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get laid, aren’t you?” He raves mockingly, but his eyes are somewhat cold. “Seriously? With that guy? I think you could do so much better, Princess.”

Vexed, you jeer back, “Yeah? And who do you have in mind? You?”

You’re not sure whether it’s your words or the way you say them that makes his blood boil but his eyes suddenly turn darker, almost glowering at you. It only happens for a second or two before he switches back to his happy-go-lucky self, so you’re not sure if you even see that clearly.

“Well, it’s not my business, is it?” He casually chirps, smiling at you again although something still feels off. “Don’t worry, I won’t eavesdrop on you two. I have a lot of kinks but voyeurism isn’t one of those. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“You…” Something feels really off with the way he’s acting. It’s like he’s visibly upset but trying to act nonchalant about it at the same time. “You’re sure?”

“You have my words.”

“Okay then.” Whatever it is, you figure you can deal with that later as you’re running out of time for your date. “Well, I’m gonna go take a shower.”

As you shut the door behind you, turmoil starts to fill your chest.

***

Your date with Armin is going well. It’s going so well, even, that you end up lying on your bed, perfectly naked, lips swollen from his kisses. He's hovering above you, both breathless and speechless at the sight of your curves, his sapphire eyes shifting from one spot of your skin to another.

And unfortunately for you, he is also clueless.

Armin has a packet of condoms in his hand, and no matter how embarrassing it is for you, you already have your legs spread on the bed, waiting for him to… well, do whatever it is he’s supposed to do. You always thought that it was okay for you to be clueless about sex because guys usually take the lead, right?

Wrong.

“Okay, wait, let me just—” Armin’s fingers are trembling due to anxiety. His poor, innocent mind cannot handle being so painfully turned on and awkwardly embarrassed at the same time. Your boyfriend has always been awkward with literally everything, which kind of makes him adorable but it does not come as cute—not in the slightest—when he’s doing the exact opposite of what he's supposed to do. Somewhere deep in his mind, he probably knows that he’s supposed to tear apart the package sexily with his teeth, put the condom on within seconds, and thrust into you as painlessly as possible. But in reality, what’s currently happening is he's trying to catch the condom that flew out in the air after he managed to tear the packet apart with his shaky fingers. He then progresses to try putting on the condom for approximately fifteen minutes while flinching several times when he accidentally slaps the elastic band against his cock.

The whole thing is a fucking disaster (no pun intended) and all the passion, desire, and arousal that you once felt swirling in your stomach vanish in an instant. And when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, it does, because being a virgin himself, Armin doesn’t really know where to, for the lack of better words, put it in.

“Armin?”

“Y-yeah?”

“That’s my asshole.”

So with a reassuring (fake) smile, you lay a hand on his chest and gently push him backward, trying not to wince in shame when you suggest, “Maybe we should stop and try again some other time?”

You two dress back into your clothes in silence and after you escort him to your front door, Armin tries to kiss you at the same time you’re leaning in for a friendly hug so it ends up with him knocking his teeth against your forehead.

When he’s gone, you close the front door with a sigh, pressing your spine against the wooden surface as you soothe the pain on your temple away with your fingertips. It doesn’t take long before Eren peeks his head from behind his door. Noticing you’re alone, he steps into the living room, leaning against the wall just a couple of meters away from where you’re standing.

“So,” he begins, acting casual with his hands neatly tucked inside the pocket of his jeans. “How was the date with—” He suddenly bursts out laughing, one hand holding his stomach as he nearly tumbles down to the floor, cackling like a mad man. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped but holy fuck, did he really put it in the wrong hole? Oh God, this shit is just beyond me, man.”

With your shoulders slumped forward, you walk back into your room, trying to gather back the pieces of dignity you have left.

***

“You know what I should do?” Eren asks with a game controller in his hand. To stop him from making fun of you and your terrible incident with your boyfriend, you’ve borrowed a PlayStation from your cousin. Even though he claimed that he despised technology, Eren is actually brilliant when he puts his mind to it. It doesn’t take more than two hours for him to master the game, already adapting to every button of the controller, even manages to land a few high scores in the last ten minutes. He used to prefer to live in the old school way, but that soon changed after your influence.

“Pray to God for forgiveness so He won’t send you to hell?” You offer, as you take a seat next to him on the carpeted floor, crossing your legs with your eyes staring idly at the screen.

“Cute, but no.” He clicks some buttons aggressively, trying to reach yet another high score. “I should become a historian. I mean, I’ve seen things happen with my own eyes—the first world war, the second world war, the worst of all: the birth of Donald Trump. Hell, I was even besties with Jesus at one point.” He sneaks a glance, but seeing no reaction coming from you, he juts out his lower lip in disappointment. “It’s cruel that you don’t indulge me with my jokes these days.”

“Oh, you want me to respond? I thought you just liked hearing yourself talk.”

“Heeeeeey,” he hisses, leering at you. “I know you’re hurt that your boyfriend tried to butt-fuck you but don’t throw this all on me.”

Oh my God. “Right, then let’s try this.” You have no choice but to please him this way before he destroys whatever is left of your pride. You do a quick search on your phone, throwing a random question from what you found in the article. “Who led our country in 1950?”

“Easy. The guy with the bald head. No, wait, is it the skinny one with the huge mole on his neck?”

“Name, genius. I need a name.” You exhale in exasperation.

“Oh, I got it! The one with the annoying high-pitched voice!”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Well, how the hell am I supposed to remember shits that happened seventy years ago?”

You give him a look, eyes staring at him lifelessly. “You’re right, you should totally apply for the job. You’ll nail it.”

***

“I can’t believe this.”

“Saying that multiple times won’t really change anything, Princess.”

“I can’t believe this,” you repeat, this time while standing up from the couch, slamming your fashion magazine down to the table. “I can’t believe our air conditioner broke when it’s nearly forty degrees outside! Aren’t you hot?!”

“Am I hot—” He snorts, flipping a page of his novel. Yes, it is actually quite bizarre that he spends his spare time reading. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I’m hot. Haven’t you seen the number of views my thirst trap videos got in one night?”

“Ugh, God!” You plop back into your seat, throwing your head back in vexation. “What are you even reading?”

“That vampire book you talked about the other day.”

“Which one?”

“The one that’s interesting.”

“Oh, Interview with The Vampire?”

“No.” The way he rolls his eyes as if he’s disgusted with your guess is beyond you. “Twilight.”

“Oh my God, stay away from me.”

“What—this is actually good!”

“These vampires sparkle under the sun—aren’t you, at the very least, offended? Because I’m human and I’m livid.”

“That’s what makes it interesting, actually,” he retorts, eyes moving back and forth as he reads through a passage. “They’re so different from us in real life, so it’s like seeing through a new perspective. I’m Team Jacob, by the way. I know I said I wouldn’t bang another werewolf but Jacob can, like, get it.”

“Good Lord.” You palm the side of your face. “You’re more than eight hundred years old but you have the taste of a teenage girl going through puberty. I’m ashamed of knowing you.”

“You’re just cranky because of the weather.”

“I’m literally dying.” You can feel sweat drenching your back, all the way to your shirt and you just took a shower twenty minutes ago. “You’re lucky you’re immune to temperature changes.”

“Then wanna sit on my lap?”

Your ears must be playing tricks on you. “Excuse me?”

Eren sighs, closes his book, and throws it away to the side. Turning to you, he repeats slowly, dragging out every syllable. “Do. you. want. to. sit. on. my. lap?”

You send him a blank stare, annoyed. “I heard you, asshole. I’m not an idiot. I’m just shocked at your offer. You’re really going all out in harassing me these days, huh?”

“What—” He throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’m a vampire, remember? I have cold skin. Here,” he takes one of your hands, sliding it down his shirt as if it’s nothing, and presses it against his stomach. “Can you feel it?”

All the blood rushes to your face, making you feel lightheaded but also conscious of how his skin feels underneath your palm. It is cold, though not as cold as he’d made a big deal out of it. It’s like the room temperature during the spring, at most. But compared to how sizzling it is right now, his skin is nice to the touch, relaxing even.

But all that thought just goes straight out of the window when he shifts on his seat and you can feel his abs muscles contracting.

“Whoa,” he stops, looking at you. “Are you okay? Your heartbeat is insane.”

You smack him on the head and try to suffocate him with your cushion. It doesn’t work since he doesn’t breathe, but at least it can stop him from seeing how flustered you are.

But when another day passes by and your landlord is still taking his sweet time trying to find a cheap handyman to repair your AC, you decide to take on his offer. You know it’s weird for roommates to cuddle but, as you try to reason within yourself, you will be sitting on the-sexiest-man-you’ve-ever-witnessed-with-your-eyes’ lap, your back pressing against his (hopefully) bare chest, and snuggle close until your body heat is no longer screaming at you in agony. You don’t really see any problem with this. After all, you have been imagining how it would feel like to sit on his lap every time he does that manspreading thing on your couch.

So, really, what’s there to lose?

“Okay,” you begin, standing in front of him in an already awkward posture. “So, how can we do this without being weird about it?”

Eren tilts his face up, leaning his back against the couch, phone in his hand. “Do what?”

“Do…” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “You know, what you offered me yesterday.”

“Hmm?” He raises his eyebrow in question, but the way one side of his lips curves upward betrays his act. “I forgot. What exactly did I offer you?”

“You’re seriously going to make me say this out loud?”

“Princess, I’m clueless.” His smirk grows wider, his voice dripping with allure. “Please. Enlighten me.”

He’s toying with you, that’s for sure. And no matter how much you want to feel those arms around you, there’s no way you’re gonna let him degrade you like this. “Fine, then forget it,” you sulk, turning around on your heels with your cheeks puffed out but Eren laughs in the most innocent way when he’s clearly nothing like that in reality. Calling your name in a sing-song voice, he circles his fingers around your wrist and tugs you back until you tumble down to his lap.

“You’re never honest,” he says, his velvety voice suddenly only a whisper away. His arms are tied securely around your waist, pulling you close until you can do nothing but lay your back against his chest. “But you’re cute so I forgive you.”

You can’t form a word, too busy trying to compose yourself. You can’t hear his heartbeat—since he’s the creature of the undead, obviously—but you assume with the proximity you’re being, you would’ve definitely heard it if he had one.

You didn’t notice it before but now that you’re sitting on his lap, your palm pressed against his thigh for stability, you realize that he’s wearing black ripped jeans with holes that are oh so terribly distracting. If you dare to move your finger, you’ll be able to trace the smooth skin at the inner part of his thigh.

You gulp hard.

You can hear him snickering behind you. “Thinking something dirty?”

It feels like you almost swallowed your tongue. “What—no!” Flapping your hands in panic, you almost fall from his lap but his fast reflex won’t let you. He embraces you tighter, causing you to fall back to his chest with a small oof.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he chuckles lowly, his lips grazing against your earlobe. “This is nice. We should do this more often. You fit perfectly in my arms.” He says his line sincerely with no trace of humor or teasing in it, which effectively makes you curl your toes in bashfulness.

“You’re gonna have a heart attack if you keep your heart rate going like that, Princess,” he titters.

“Yeah, well,” you try to push him away by pushing your palm against his cheek. “Unlike you, I don’t spend my time snuggling with the opposite sex, so of course I’m nervous.”

“You’re sure it’s not because of me?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I’d most likely have a bigger reaction if Armin was the one holding me instead.”

The way he suddenly goes stiff intrigues you, but you don’t dwell on it. “Is that so?” He simply retorts back, his tone suddenly turns cold and it makes you feel queasy.

“So, uhh…” Your breathing tatters when he becomes mute, only the sound of the ticking clock on the wall can be heard. “Wanna watch a movie?”

He only hums, placing his chin on top of your head. Since he’s always so talkative, it gets really tense when he’s quiet. “Did I offend you or something?” You question.

“I don’t know, did you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”

“Then let’s just leave it at that.” Seeing how you keep fumbling with the remote in your hand, he snatches it away and proceeds to switch the channels. “We’re watching Twilight.”

“Nooooooo, not again!”

But his arm, as he raises it high in the air, is longer than yours so you can’t steal back the remote no matter how hard you try. And as you jump up and down, shifting back and forth on his lap, Eren warns, “I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose, but if you keep doing that, I’m gonna get a hard-on.”

You immediately stay still, hands tucked neatly on your lap, chest thundering. “You—Why—” You shake your head, flushed. “How can you say things like that?”

“Things like what?”

“Sexual things like that.” The more you reveal your thoughts, the more you turn sheepish. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“What, I can’t be honest?” He snorts. “I didn’t mean to harass you or anything. Just letting you know in advance. It’s completely a guy thing.”

“No, it’s not just that. You always flirt with me—calling me baby or princess, telling me how I look cute all the time when you don’t even mean it—“

You’re interrupted with a loud sigh accompanied by an impatient groan. “Turn around. Look at me,” he orders and his tone is irrefutable. When you turn slightly, making eye contact, Eren has his eyebrows furrowed, almost glaring at you. “I know you’re gullible, and I know you’re dense when it comes to things like this but I swear to God, if you don’t start taking a hint, I’m gonna have to push you against the wall and kiss you to prove my point.”

You’re dizzy and nauseous, your stomach is flipping like crazy and you’re conflicted between believing him or laughing at him because although he looks dead serious right now, you can’t help but wonder what if, after you give in to your feelings, he sends you that signature cheeky grin of his to reveal he’s just joking all along? You’re not even brave enough to imagine, even when the vivid image of him pushing you against the wall, his knee slipping between your legs while he brings your wrists over your head and holding them still with one hand is enough to keep you awake for hours.

So you decide to take the easy path. “Okay.”

He blinks. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You shrug, acting casual. It’s a miracle that you don’t stutter when you deliver the next line. “You told me to take a hint, that’s what I’m doing.”

He raises one of his eyebrows, confused. “Just like that? You’re not gonna say anything more? Or do anything about it?”

“Nope.”

Slowly, there’s a shift in his expression. He shakes his head in amusement, tongue protruding against the inside of his cheek. “You really are something else.”

Surprisingly enough, he leaves it at that. Though it’s somehow uncomfortable, you follow his lead and just keep your eyes glued to your TV screen as he chooses his movie.

You have no interest in watching Twilight—absolutely nothing, zilch, zip, nada!—so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your eyelids start to become heavy in the first thirteen minutes of the show. You would’ve fallen asleep way sooner though, if you weren’t too distracted with the way he laid his hand on your thigh, sometimes unconsciously rubbing or squeezing it with his palm when he got a little bit bored with the scene, causing your breath to get hitched in your throat.

The room’s temperature is still hot even when it’s in the middle of the night, successfully making your bangs stick to your temple. But you feel relaxed as you listen to Eren quietly humming something to himself. Soft, melodious sound is resonating from his chest directly to your ear and you begin to drift away, floating into your dreamland.

***

“Hey, wake up. It’s almost morning.”

Your bleary eyes are greeted by the dim light of the room. The TV in front of you has already been switched off so the only thing that can be heard in your apartment is the buzzing sound coming from your fridge and the faint ticking clock.

“What time is it?” You rub your eyes, not aware that you’re still sitting on his lap, with your spine leaning against his chest. It’s until you feel his arms loosening around your waist that you begin to think, oh fuck, what have I done?

You immediately jump off his lap, tripping over your feet but manage to hold your balance by placing a hand on the coffee table. “Why didn’t you wake me?” You screech, face aflame. “You kept holding me in that position all night?”

“Yeah.” He stretches his arms above his head, cracking his neck. “I would've waited until you woke up by yourself, but you know, the sun is about to rise.”

You’re still pretty much flabbergasted by the whole thing. “You really should’ve woken me up.”

“Well, you seemed like you were having the best sleep you’ve ever had.” He stares at you with mischief in his eyes. “Did it feel that good being in my arms, Princess?”

You’re about to explode. “Okay, wow, look what time it is.” You try to look at your wrist and mentally slap yourself harder when you realize you’re not wearing a goddamn watch. “A-anyway, you really should go back to your room before it’s too late.”

He chuckles at your stupid antics before he stands up from the couch. Ruffling your hair once and making a mess out of your strands, he heads back to his room. As he slides open his door, he spares you a glance over his shoulder. “Hey.”

“What?”

“You kept calling my name in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?”

Whether it’s true or he’s just flirting with you to get your reaction, you don’t want to know. “Just go to your room!”

***

A few moments after the sun sinks below the horizon, Eren comes out of his room with bleary eyes and his shoulders sagging forward.

“Good morning, Princess,” you joke, your hands busy mixing coffee powder, sugar, and milk to make your own version of Dalgona coffee. Eren scratches the back of his head, his eyes are barely open as he heads to the kitchen, not even sparing you a glance. When he opens the fridge, he groans loudly, noticing that he forgot to restock his red wine. He slams the door with a loud huff, drags his body to the dining table, and sits down with his cheek pressed against the table. Seeing how you’re not paying him any attention, he groans again, louder and whinier this time.

“Okay, what?” You ask, leaning your back against the counter, a cup of coffee in your hand.

“I’m thirsty,” he grumbles, jutting out his lower lip.

“Then drink.”

“I don’t have any money left to buy even a bag of blood. Why do they have to make it so fucking expensive?” He grouses, pouting. “I mean, I can always steal one but I’m scared of being caught.”

“Scared of being caught? You, with your superhuman speed and strength?”

“Well, they have those security cameras installed all over the place! I don’t want to get arrested or worse, go viral!” You resist the temptation to roll your eyes at his nonsense. “These fucking technologies, man, I swear to God, they’ll be the death of me someday.”

“Then just go outside. Our town is filled with walking blood bags.”

He groans again, now pressing his forehead against the table. “Man, the effort I have to make just to survive. I’m so done with drinking blood from slutty girls. They’re bitter.” He sticks out his tongue in disgust at the memory.

“Yeah, why is that? Why do you only drink from them?”

“Because they’re the only ones who’ll agree in a heartbeat.” His voice is muffled as his lips are brushing against the surface. “Also the sex isn’t too bad if you can ignore how annoyingly loud they are.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” You grimace at the flashback. It really has been a while since he brought one of them back to his room and you were ecstatic about it, knowing you were the only girl he had been giving his attention to. “Why don’t you just compel someone to give their blood? You can erase their memories too after you’re done with them.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t like doing that. It makes me feel like a monster.”

It’s cute, you suppose, the way he tries his best to defy his nature. “Then…” You tap your fingers against the mug, somehow feeling timid. “Why don’t you try being in a relationship with someone? I’m sure they’ll be willing to give you their blood if they like you that way.”

“Yeah? With who?”

“I don’t know, like…” Your cheeks grow hot, bringing your face down to conceal your eyes with your bangs. “Maybe just someone you like.”

“Are you volunteering?”

The way he suddenly has you backed against the counter, trapping you inside his arms, and whispering seductively with his lips almost grazing your own makes you jump on your feet. Your mug slips off your fingers, crashing to pieces when it hits the marbled floor.

“Careful!” Eren holds you by the waist, stopping you just a split second away from stepping on the broken glasses. You realize your hands are fisting against the back of his shirt, embracing him for support without knowing. You pull away immediately, clearing your throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he says, letting you go. “I mean I did, but not like this.”

You sigh. “It’s okay, just step away. I need to clean this up.” He tries to help but you won’t let him, as having him in such proximity is only going to blind your senses, unable to function properly. Even just thinking about the way his strong arm fits the curve of your waist a few seconds before already makes you lose focus that you end up cutting your finger with a shard of glass.

He catches the little surprised yelp that escapes your lips and immediately bends down to check on you. “See, this is why I told you to let me clean up instead,” he complains, carrying you to the sink and drenching your finger with running water. “Let me see.” With a hold around your wrist, you can barely do anything but let him examine your cut thoroughly. “Well, it’s not deep but it’s… still…”

Noticing how he trails off, you look up to check on his face, catching how his green eyes are now glowing a bit brighter. His lips are parted as if in awe from the way droplets of blood seep from your fingertip, trickling down to your palm.

“Eren…?”

His eyes start to change color, drifting back and forth from your face to the tear on your skin. You know where this is going but when he brings your hand closer to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the blood off the lines of your palm, you nearly collapse to the floor.

“Eren, wait—” You hiss, cheeks reddening as you try to retract your hand but his hold is firm on your wrist. He licks his way up before he brings your fingertip inside his mouth. Eren has his eyes closed, a moan almost tumbles off his lip when the coppery taste taints his tongue. He sucks on the wound, wanting to taste more, to rip your skin apart with his teeth and—

“Eren!”

He jolts awake, his irises turning back from scarlet to viridian the second he witnesses the dread that paints your face. His fangs are drawn out but he immediately retracts them before you get a detailed look, his face flushed as he takes a step back.

“Sorry—” He looks away, rubbing his nape with shaky fingers. “I didn’t mean to—shit, I really have to go—I need to drink—” and when you blink your eyes again, he has vanished from your sight.

With your heart thundering inside your rib cages, you lean back against the kitchen counter, your legs trembling underneath your weight.

That was close. So fucking close.

There’s fear growing inside you but it’s not from the memory of him with his fangs extended like the true monster that he was. You’re not scared of him, you’re scared of yourself because you know you want him. Even when you've seen his true form, you still want him and you want him in any way possible. You want him to belong to you, to be with you, to be desperate for your touch, your blood, your presence, your everything, just as much as you are about him.

You bury your face in your palms. I am so fucked.

***

Hours turn into days and days turn into months, and before you know it, it has been a year since he moved into your apartment. The friendship that blooms between you feels nice and you want to keep it that way but it’s getting tough when he keeps on bringing random girls in skimpy dresses back to his room. You used to be furious by how loud they were being, but now you’re pretty much angry just from imagining him being with someone else. And it doesn’t even have to be sexual—just picturing him bonding with another person, even when it’s not as strong as what you two have, already aggravates you so much.

The thoughts of him keep revolving in your head no matter how hard you try to push them away. It even puts your relationship with Armin in jeopardy, as you can barely pay him any attention. It doesn’t surprise you at all when he decides to break things off, saying something cliche like, “I think we’re better off as friends,” and “It’s not you, it’s me,” which in normal circumstances will piss the hell out of you but when that happens, you simply reply with, “You’re right. Let’s be friends.” And there are no hard feelings—no feelings at all, even, which is weird considering you were only a month away from having your first anniversary with him.

Now that Armin is out of the picture, you can finally bring all of your attention back to Eren. But the more you think about it, the more you’re not sure about the whole thing. He’s a vampire, isn’t he? What future do you expect to have with him? Let’s say you date him and things go well with your relationship, and then what? He’s going to stay young with that cute, boyish look on his face and you’re gonna be all wrinkled and gross, how are you ever going to be able to stand that? What if he wants someone prettier than you? What if he gets bored?

Or maybe it’s just lust you’re feeling. You don’t love him, you’re just physically attracted to him. That’s right. Strictly physical.

And yet, as you see him dressed handsomely in a black button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows—him running a hand through his thick, luscious hair as he ties it up to showcase his temple, your mind screams: fuck.

And when he smiles at you, placing a plate filled with the exact dish he knows you love down to the dining table while saying, “I went ahead and did some research about you. I was about to buy you some presents but I thought it would feel more personal if I cooked something for you so,” and stopping to gaze at you with tender eyes before he adds, “Happy birthday, Princess.” You think to yourself: Jesus fucking Christ, just marry me already.

Eren goes all the way with everything, from placing scented candles on the table, playing soft music in the background, even escorting you to your seat, pulling your chair back for you, and setting down a napkin on your lap. It’s too much for your poor brain to comprehend, and your chest is suffocating from all the feelings swirling behind it. Eren looks so beautiful—almost goddamn ethereal, even—in that shirt and those black khaki pants, sporting that sexy man bun. It almost feels unreal to have someone like him standing before you in the dim light of your apartment. He looks like he belongs in one of those romantic renaissance paintings that they display in the museum.

“You’re not hungry?” He asks when a few seconds have passed by and you haven’t munched at your food like a caveman (because that’s what you usually do).

“I’m—you—” You splutter, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before you try again. “You look nice.”

You can already tell that he’s about to say something along the line of “But, baby, I always look nice.” So when he just softly smiles back and thanks you about it, telling you how you look just as nice when you know you look like a storm just hit you, you’re pretty much lost for words.

“You seem exhausted,” he comments, frowning in concern. “Hard day at work?”

You can’t trust yourself that you won’t start rambling nonsense again while answering his question so you decide to just reply to him with a feeble nod.

“Why are you so nervous?” He laughs, eyes turning into a beautiful pair of crescents. “Your heartbeat is going through the roof again.”

You loathe yourself for being so transparent. “I’m nervous because you’re suddenly being so nice to me. I can’t help but think you have a hidden agenda or something.” That’s a lie. A complete lie.

And you’re sure he knows it too. “And what if I do?” He challenges, raising an eyebrow seductively. “What kind of a hidden agenda do you think I have for you?”

Why is it so fucking hot in here?! “I don’t know…” You start fiddling with the fingers you have placed on your lap. “Drinking my blood, maybe?”

His expression is a mystery to you, even when his smirk seems familiar. “And would you be okay if that’s true?”

You can’t answer but fortunately for you, Eren lets out a chuckle, telling you that he was simply making a joke. You force yourself to laugh but it sounds like a wheeze so you stop before it gets even more humiliating.

Eren walks to your seat with a bottle of wine in his hands, sliding down the glass to your side as he smoothly offers, “Wine, Milady? It’s not blood, I swear.” And you believe him because this time, the liquid seems more ruby than crimson.

“You really need to relax.” Eren leans his back against the edge of the table, raising the glass of his usual red wine in the air before he clanks it gently against yours. “To the cutest, sweetest roommate in the world.”

You immediately take a sip to hide the flush that blooms on your face, flinching when the burning, mildly bitter flavor hits your tongue. You’ve never drunk any alcohol in your life and although this first experience feels rather unpleasant, you keep chugging more of it down your system.

“Does it taste good?” He questions, secretly smiling to himself as he witnesses how fast you’re drinking the whole glass down. You shake your head in response, which earns another laugh from him.

You’re not sure whether it’s because it’s your first time drinking alcohol or you just have a low tolerance when it comes to it, but you can feel yourself getting both lightheaded and drowsy not long after. Eren, who takes notice of that, moves you to the couch so you can rest more comfortably. “I better take this away,” he tells you, circling his lean fingers around your wine glass but you stop him.

“No,” you say, eyes a little bit unfocused as you push him away. “I’m fine. Pour me some more.”

“Don’t you think it’s enough?”

“Just another glass, Jaeger, don’t be a bitch about it.”

Your words stun him for a second before he chuckles. “Damn. All right, just don’t blame me for it,” he states as he pours you another one.

“I have a question for you,” you coo as he takes a seat on the coffee table, facing you. “What were you like in the past?”

He freezes, taken aback but collects his composure within seconds. “Why the sudden interest?”

“No reason. It’s just you’ve never really told me about yourself.”

“I thought I’ve told you enough. I even told you about my dick size.”

“Which I never asked.”

“But you were curious.”

You try your best not to get sidetracked. “When I asked you about mind compulsion,” you slur out your words. The alcohol in your system makes you feel brazen. “You looked like you’ve done something in the past. Something… awful.”

You don’t notice the way his hold around his glass tightens at your guess. “Well, they don’t call me a monster for no reason,” he keeps his voice light even when he feels something churning inside his chest. “I did something, yes, but… I promise you I won’t do that again.”

You can sense it again. That feeling where he seems like he wants to say everything but he’s too scared to do so. Reaching out to pat his hand, you assure him, “Eren, you know I won’t judge, right? What you did in the past wouldn’t change the way I think about you.”

His smile is melancholic, eyes dull with sadness. “I just don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“Afraid of you?” You tease him. “Ren, you’re a six feet tall vampire who’s afraid of cockroaches and makes thirst trap videos as a hobby. There’s literally no way I could be scared of you.”

Your laughter is a delightful symphony in his ear but for the first time, he doesn’t have the energy to mirror you. Your laughter subsides at his reaction, and you slide your fingers past his wrist to tangle around him. “You don’t have to keep everything to yourself,” you utter. “Eren, if you’re in pain, tell me. If you need help, let me know. If you want someone to listen to you, I would love to do so. And if you want someone to accept you for who you are—for who you truly are—not just a vampire but also the person you were before, I will be that for you.” You disentangle your hand from him just to brush a stray lock that falls out of his bun, tucking it behind his ear. “You’re not alone, okay?”

Eren watches you in silence, his lips parted but his tongue can’t shape the words, not when you’re smiling so delicately like this. There’s gratitude welling up inside him, as well as joy and the affection he holds for you, but there’s also fear. What he did in the past was… something he was sure you weren’t ready to hear. He’s afraid that your thoughts about him would change despite your promise. He wants to tell you the truth. He’s dying for you to know every part of him and the past he’s been trying to hide, but… He’s terrified.

He chews on his lower lip, contemplating. “Would you… believe me if I told you I was a prince?”

You blink. “You were?”If you weren’t intoxicated, you would’ve laughed.

“Yeah. Seems very unlikely, doesn’t it, with the way I’m behaving now?” He chuckled sheepishly. “But I was, eight hundred years ago. Before I was turned into… this.” He casts his gaze downward, looking at his palm and remembering the first night where he had warm blood staining his hands and his own fangs puncturing his lip. “I came from a place called Paradis. We were the strongest kingdom on the continent for decades, ruling over four others. I was their second prince.” He’s better at concealing his emotions this time, and with alcohol fogging your thoughts, you fail to notice the way he has his other hand clenching into a fist, his nails digging hard enough to leave marks on his palm. “It’s a boring story, though,” he says, playfully bumping his shoulder against yours. “I don’t want to put you to sleep. We still have a birthday to celebrate.”

“I wish to know more, actually,” you chuckle, swirling your wine inside your glass before you take a sip. “Eren Jaeger, The Second Prince of Paradis. Has a nice ring to it. Did people announce your title like that when you stepped into the room?”

Eren’s eyes widen as the ghosts from his past come alive in his head. Those voices he’s been trying to silence, those faces he’s been trying to forget, they’re all revived at once.

Look at him. Eren Jaeger, The Devil of Paradis.

A disgrace. A filthy half-blood. He should’ve died, just like that witch.

No. We should kill him.

“Yeah,” Eren swallows. “Yeah, they called me like that all the time.” He brings the tip of his glass to his lips, gulping down a thick amount of blood to distract himself.

Oblivious to what he’s feeling, you move toward another topic. “Does everyone’s blood taste the same to you?”

“It differs,” he answers. “But only faintly. I’m not that picky about it.”

“And how does it feel having your blood sucked by a vampire?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy.” He sways his head from side to side, chuckling lightly. “I mean, of course, I can have my blood drunk by another vampire but I’m not that kinky. I know some vampires who are into that kind of shit though.”

“Well, by the sound of your girls screaming like they were giving birth, it’s either very painful or very…” The sight of him staring at you intently, taking in your features, nearly throws you off tracks. “Pleasurable.”

There’s an awkward pause and silence hangs around to fill the space. The voices inside his head gradually turn into whispers, drowned by the curiosity that builds up within him. You’re being transparent, every emotion, every desire you usually kept hidden is now showing vividly on your face. He doesn’t intend to be cruel, but if this serves as a chance for him to know how you truly feel about him, then he will take advantage of it. “How come you’re asking me these questions?” He asks.

“Because that’s all I’ve been thinking about,” you confess, feeling braver with each second passing by. “And it’s not just about you drinking my blood, but more about you entirely. You know what I mean?”

Eren places his glass down on the table, leaning towards you. If his heart was beating, it would be pounding right now. “Not sure, but I’m all ears.”

“I… just…” It’s getting harder to speak when he’s so close, you can start locating every tiny mole he has on his face and his neck. The small one near his Adam’s apple is the one that distracts you the most. “I just think we’re compatible with each other, you know? And I’ve never enjoyed someone’s company this much before. You’re funny, you’re smart, and you’re both endearing and so freaking annoying at the same time—how is that possible?”

But Eren isn’t laughing. His eyes are deep and dark, raking over your profiles with so much intensity but when he swats the bangs out of your eyes, his touch is tender. “What else? Tell me more.”

You lean closer to his touch like how a kitten would, making him gulp slightly at the sight. “I get so vexed whenever you spend your time with someone else. I know I have no right to be jealous since we’re just friends but I can’t help it.” You exhale, rubbing the side of your face with your palm. “It’s so fucking tiring to think about you this much when I can’t have you.”

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that when Eren reaches out a hand to touch your face, you jump in surprise, spilling wine all over your blouse. “Shit, this is my favorite shirt,” you whine, hastily settling down your glass on the table. “Can you get me some tissues?”

But what he does is lift your body with both of his arms and carry you to the bathroom. You cling onto him with a yelp, trying to keep yourself away from falling even though you’re sure he’s perfectly able to hold your weight.

Eren places you down on the bathroom counter, your fingers gripping at the edge of your sink. Sitting up straight, you begin to feel conscious of your surroundings. “What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite shirt, right? We need to wash the stain before it sticks,” He explains, his fingers going to your collar. You nearly stop breathing when he asks for permission to undress you, “May I?”

You swallow the lump in your throat before you offer him a weak nod. “Yes.”

He takes time unbuttoning your shirt one by one when you know he can rip it apart easily with one finger. He’s so gentle, his touches are paper-thin but whenever his icy fingertips make slight contact with your skin, it sends electricity to every inch of your body.

When he manages to untangle the clothing from your body, you’re only left in your bra and your white satin lace cami top. You can tell he tries to be polite by not staring at your exposed skin, and instead, focusing on fixing your blouse. He drags it over to the sink, drenching it with water.

“Where did you place the detergent again?” He asks, reaching up over your head to check on the top cabinet and he’s so fucking close that you can see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he speaks. And it’s really, really tempting to just lean over and—

Eren flinches when he feels you sinking your face in the crook of his neck, mapping your lips on his skin and breathing in his scent. You don’t know what vampires usually smell like but Eren reminds you of summer even when you’re not sure what summer smells like. It’s funny how you’re not making sense, even in your own thoughts.

Pushing you away by the shoulders, Eren’s eyes gleam in a way you’ve never seen before. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I…” You can’t form a word—you can’t even form a thought as you’re too busy staring at his lips, musing over how smooth they look, how thrilling they must feel against your own. And perhaps he’s thinking the same thing about yours too because when you lean in for a taste, he meets you halfway.

The kiss feels warm and it doesn’t make any sense, because the rest of his body is icy cold but as you press your mouth against his, all you can think about is how his lips are hot and soft, so fucking soft and delightful and maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you but you don’t care.

You breathe heavily through your nose, yanking at the collar of his shirt so he’s closer to you than he’s ever been. You tilt your head slightly, angling your face so you can meld your lips deeper against his. He instinctively reacts by holding the side of your face, his fingers slipping between your strands, his tips curling around your nape.

He kisses better than any man you’ve ever been with and you’re sure he’s better than any man you’ll ever date in the future. Eren knows what he’s doing. Even when he’s caught by surprise, his lips are dancing against yours so sensually that they leave you melting in his arms.

Sliding your hand up to his chest, you can tell how his skin stands in contrast to the warmth of his mouth and it makes you shiver. Your breathing rags as you moan into his mouth, letting him taste the alcohol that lingers inside yours. You trace your tongue along the puncture of his fang that’s still retracted, almost as normal as a human’s but something inside you tells you it’s not going to stay that long if you continue with this. Anticipation builds up fast inside you. There’s absolutely no way you’re going to stop what you’re doing.

But Eren is surprisingly more chivalrous than he looks. He pulls away, giving you a few inches of space to break the attraction. It’s not enough, your mind is still heavily clouded by the thoughts of him, so you reach up to kiss him again, catching his lower lip between yours.

“No, wait,” he vocalizes, his voice sounding breathy even when his lungs no longer function in the way they used to. He circles his fingers around your wrists, holding them down against the counter so you won’t be able to move.

“Let me just kiss you,” you plead, eyes dazed and desperate. “Please.”

His chuckles are soft, almost inaudible. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not, I swear.” It’s horribly embarrassing how much you crave his touch as if losing physical contact with him causes you madness. “Hold up your fingers and ask me to count them. I’ll guess it right, trust me, so can you just—” You try to move your hand to pull him close but his grip around your wrist is stronger than your strength. “Eren—”

“Look, I want this just as much as you do—” He cuts his line short and continues it sharply with a groan when he feels your knee sliding between his legs, giving him the friction that he needs. “Fuck. I probably want this more than you do, but—” He loses control for a split second, re-attaching his mouth to yours with so much fervor, tongues desperate to taste one another. The way you whimper against him makes him groan, his hand gliding down your thigh and spreading your legs apart so he can fit himself between them.

It’s when his fangs suddenly puncture your lips, drawing a hint of blood and making you cry out in surprise that he wakes up from his reverie. He pushes himself away immediately to the other side of the room. You almost topple forward from suddenly losing his body to lean on, only managing to keep your balance at the last second by gripping at the edge of the counter.

Eren turns around, facing the bathroom tiles as he leans one hand against the wall while his other one covers his mouth. He curses under his breath, loathing how he nearly lets the monster inside of him take control of his body.

“Eren?”

“Sorry, let me just—“ His shoulders are shaking, trying his best to soothe the thirst that overwhelmed him earlier. His canines feel burning. “They’ll go back in a minute.”

“No.” You jump down from the counter, moving to his spot with careful steps. “Let me see them.”

He shakes his head, unable to find the courage to face you. “Stay away.”

“I want to see them.” You place your hand on his shoulder, caressing him gently until he finally submits to your touch.

You only ever saw him with his fangs retracted twice in your life but even then, it was always too dark and too fast for you to see him properly. But now… Now you can take your time.

God, he’s gorgeous.

His eyes, as they peer into you in concern and the uncertainty that he might hurt you, are radiant, glowing like ambers in the dark of the night. But instead of jade green, they shine luminously in crimson, so strikingly beautiful that you can barely look at anywhere else. His fangs are now twice their usual size but he can still hide them behind his lips if needed. It’s the way they become frighteningly sharp that sends a shiver down your spine but you brave yourself enough to reach out to him.

“Can I… touch them?” You hesitantly ask. Eren looks conflicted by the question but soon gives you a timid nod. He parts his mouth slightly so you can trace your fingertip along his cuspid. It feels like a knife splitting your skin, making you flinch in surprise.

He hastily pulls back, terrified at the thought of hurting you. “S-sorry—”

“Do it with me.”

“What?”

You take a deep breath, your heart rate soaring. “I want you to drink from me.”

“You’re being insane—”

“Please.” You lay a hand on his chest, inclining your head and pushing back your hair to expose more skin of your throat. He feasts on the sight of the pulsating vein that paints the side of your neck, his blood boiling with need. “Just try, Eren…”

The glimmer in his eyes shows that he’s yearning to fulfill your wish but he cups your cheek again, fighting back his raging desire to consume you. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“You’re gonna regret this in the morning.”

“I won’t.” Your fingers find home in his waves, pacifying him with your tender touch. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time and—”

A high-pitched yelp that flees from your lips cuts your sentence short and you have to muffle the rest of your scream by mouthing against the fabric that covers his shoulder. Eren doesn’t waste any second after he hears your confession. His canines are prickling against the skin under your jaw, just between the earlobe and the collarbone. It hurts when he sinks them—so, so badly—that tears begin to form almost instantly behind your closed lids.

Eren suddenly lets you go, his ruby eyes widening as he gazes at the way blood is gushing through his bite mark. “Fuck,” he says, “How can you taste so—” and he dives in again, moaning rather loudly when the warmth of your blood fills his mouth, swallowing a big gulp each time. “So fucking good,” he murmurs in pleasure, tightening his hold desperately around your waist as if you’re the thread that keeps him alive.

“Wait—Ah!” You’re being pushed back, your body squeezed between the tiles and the muscles of his chest. The key-shaped pendant he wears above his heart is digging into your skin. He lands one hand against the wall as he sinks his face deeper in the crook of your neck. You fall weak, your fingers fisting the back of his shirt, twisting and pulling until the fabric slides off his shoulders.

The pain only stays for a few seconds before a rush of endorphin seeps into your skin, running through your veins and pumping euphoria to every inch of your body. You begin to relax, eyes becoming half-lidded as you go into a trance, your heartbeat slowing down. You’ve never done any methamphetamine in your life but you imagine that it must feel somewhat like this.

“Eren…” You breathe out, feeling a little bit lightheaded. The strap of your camisole is falling off your shoulder while his shirt is pooling around his elbows. You can feel your knees slowly giving out under your weight and you claw against his back, your fingers gliding against the muscles underneath his shoulder blades as you try to maintain your balance. “Eren, I… I can’t stand…”

He breaks away only to haul you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist, and wind your arms around his neck. He carries you back to the bathroom counter, placing you down on the same spot as before, your legs dangling in the air.

“Better?” He rubs comforting circles with his thumb along your cheekbone, analyzing your expression. You nod, your gaze going down to focus on his fangs again. Your blood paints his lips. Some of it trickles down his chin. He’s a monster, he truly is, but his eyes, though they are now scarlet and flickering like torches, are tender and patient.

He slides his hand down to the hem of your camisole, fingers rubbing against the fabric as he peppers soft kisses along your jawline. “Is this one your favorite too?”

“Huh?” You’re having the hardest time trying to focus. “Oh… No, not really.”

“Well, then,” his lips are still sucking bruises on your neck when he rips both of your camisole and your bra with one flick of his hand, exposing your bare chest to the cold air.

Jolting in surprise, you squeak out his name but you’re silenced with another kiss, one that is so consuming, so deep, so wild that you nearly sob against his mouth. The taste of copper makes you frown in discomfort but the knot starts to loosen when his tongue darts out to meet you in a messy kiss.

His hand goes down to your breast, cupping the side while he runs his thumb along your sensitive bud. You rake your nails against his back in response, aching for more. His other hand is tracing the curve of your waist, going down to your hips before he tears your skirt away. He tosses the clothing somewhere across the room, following your previous ones.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he reminds you, hooking his hands at the back of your knees before he pulls your legs forward. Pressing his hardness against the wetness of your lingerie, you both let out a whine.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Want you so bad, Princess.”

“Me too,” you keen, circling your legs around his waist for stability. “Don’t stop, please,” you murmur against his ear, robbing a low groan from the back of his throat.

It’s unfair that he’s still fully clothed while you’re almost nude. You tug on his shirt and Eren helps you toss it to the floor. You roam your lips to every inch of his bare skin, your lipstick staining the front of his chiseled chest before you mouth against his shoulder.

Eren licks along the wound of his previous bite, emitting a sinful moan when your blood sparks ecstasy in his mouth. His fingers are tentatively rubbing you over your lingerie and you beg with your lips muffled by the skin that covers his collarbone. “Take it off. Just take it off, please—“

You can feel a tiny laugh reverberating from his chest from how desperate you’re being but you don’t care. You really are that desperate.

Eren is more than willing to comply, sliding your lingerie down your thighs and you help him push it off your legs completely. You guide his palm to your heat, breathing out his name in a soft moan when his fingers promptly slide between your folds, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. His mouth finds its way down the valley of your breasts and he goes lower and lower until he has his head between your legs.

You nibble at your lip in anticipation when he presses open-mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh. Eren makes sure he has his eyes fixed on yours when he dips his fangs into your supple skin, making you quiver with the sensation. The second bite isn’t as shocking as before and you’re so aroused by the little mmm that escapes him. He drinks from your thigh, his tongue flicking over the wound before he sinks his teeth again, maintaining his gaze on yours all the while. “Sweet…” His moans are so sexy and obscene, you feel like you can listen to them forever. “You taste so fucking sweet, Princess.”

“God, Eren.” You’re going insane, you can feel it. “I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me.”

And he probably is too because he’s abandoning all of his self-control at once. The way he sucks bruises on your skin, lapping at the trail of blood that painted your body is almost animalistic, raw passion mixed with lust and uncontrollable desire. He drags his mouth to your center, tongue darting out to lap at your folds this time. Your hand goes straight to his head, slipping your fingers between the strands before you tug on his bun. He grunts a little when he feels you yanking at his roots, his hair tie sliding off until his strands fall loose, brushing against his shoulders.

You rock your hips against his mouth, his eyes glowing even brighter, filled with lust. He retracts his fangs just so he can suckle on your clit, abusing the same spot with his expert tongue. You taste even sweeter than your blood, intoxicating him to his bones.

“Come back to me,” you plead. “I need you.”

He returns to his feet and unbuckles his belt in a hurry, his mouth finding purchase on yours again. He pushes his jeans and briefs down just low enough to release himself from his confinement. You can feel his tip grazing against your clit before he glides his length down your folds, pulling you by the legs so you’re almost lying down on the counter with your upper back pressed against the mirror behind you.

His eyes are hooded but they speak reassurance when they bore into yours. “I’ll be gentle.”

Now that it finally sinks you’re going to do this for the first time, your lustful desire quickly changes into jitters. You nod, permitting him to proceed.

The feeling of him stretching you little by little is excruciating and he can tell that too, hissing, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” as his eyebrows adjoin in the middle. Unable to handle the pain, you reach out a hand to stop him but he grabs your wrist and plunges his teeth into your skin.

Another jolt of pain sends tremors all over your body before the rush of endorphin hits you like a wave, gradually reducing your pain until you’re in haze again, blissful even, but also even more aroused than before.

“You’re okay?” He licks the blood that trails down your arm before he presses a lingering kiss against your veins. “Are you still in pain?”

You’re breathing hard but you can feel your heartbeat slowing. “No. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He brushes his smile against your forehead before he returns to position. “Let’s start slow, okay?”

“No…” You push your body forward, tangling your arms around his neck. “Don’t hold back.” You lean close to his ear, kissing his shell once before you whisper, “I want you to fuck me, Ren.”

His grip on your thigh tightens, his mouth colliding with yours in a frantic kiss. “I’m gonna move,” Eren gives his final warning before he rams his hips forward, filling you up so deep, you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

Even when he said he was going to be gentle with you, he’s doing the exact opposite. Or maybe he is going gentle, which only makes you wonder how wild he can be once he stops caring about your safety. The thought of him losing control of his mind as he pounds into you senselessly makes you shudder, your walls closing hard around his length.

“My God.” The feeling of your heat enveloping him—squeezing around him—makes him drop his temple on your shoulder, dissolving him into a groaning mess. “You are driving me insane, do you know that?”

“I can take it.” You hold his face, caressing his sharp jawline with trembling fingers. “It’s not painful anymore, so please, just… Do whatever you want with me.”

“But I’ll break you.” Although his eyes speak like he wants nothing but to grant your wish.

You let your tongue slide up from his chin to his lower lip, stopping just to whisper, “Then break me apart, I don’t care,” before you crash his mouth with yours again.

Eren’s thrust is both deep and hard, knocking your breath with each drive of his hips as he holds you by your waist, nails clawing into the skin. Maybe it’s because there’s still a trace of endorphin in your body that heightens all your senses and washes all your pain away because everything feels so unbelievably good. His touches, his kisses, his thrusts, and the way he moves his hips faster and faster until you can’t properly breathe—everything feels amazing.

And his voice—God, his voice—the way he moans and grunts against your ear, or when he sprouts expletives while he buries his face deep in the crook of your neck, lips scorching hot against your skin, makes you think fuck, why did I waste a fucking year doing nothing when I can have him like—

You’re interrupted from finishing your thought when Eren suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper from the loss. He turns you around, forcing you to land on your feet again with your stomach pressed against the edge of the counter. You place both hands on the marbled surface as he pulls your hips closer to him, pressing his hardness against your behind as he glues his chest to your spine.

“Come here, look,” he says, holding you by the jaws and elevating your face just enough so you can gaze directly into the mirror. He shifts his hand, now holding back your bangs so your eyes are reflected perfectly. “Look how beautiful you are,” he purrs right next to your ear, the tip of his nose brushing against your jawline.

It’s both embarrassing and arousing to see yourself being held domineeringly by him, the curves of your body fit his perfectly even from behind. Your lips are bruised and swollen, blood smears messily around your neck, your wrist, your thigh even on your hips from the way he trailed his coated fingers along the skin.

Eren raises two of his blood-smeared fingers to your lips, mixing your lipstick with your own blood before he slowly drags his fingers away, painting blurred lines of crimson on your cheek. He sighs at the sight, eyes half-lidded as they glow brighter. “If I’m a monster,” he says, voice low and breathy, “Then you’re a fucking goddess.”

You shiver as you avert your gaze, ashamed of how sultry you look in the mirror and how sinful his gaze is as they rake over your body. He presses close, completing the dip of your spine with his chest like a matching puzzle. His fingers curl around the front of your neck, forcing you to look at your reflection once more as he licks a stripe up your wound. “We look good together, don’t you think?”

You’re panting hard, chest heaving up and down with each breath you take. “Eren…” You long for him to fill you again like before. “Please, just—"

He glides his hand down between your legs, teasing your cunt with small touches but strong and fast enough to make you quiver. “So sensitive too,” he chuckles, nipping slightly at your earlobe. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Before you can retort anything back, he pushes the head of his cock into your heat again, agonizingly slowly at first but slams the rest of it with one snap of his hips.

“I’ve thought about this—about us. I’ve been thinking about you so much, it scares me,” he confesses, with low groans interrupting his lines. He thrusts steadily into you, his cock rubbing deliciously against your walls. “You’re driving me crazy with that face of yours. Your lips, your voice—whenever you call my name, whenever you pout after losing an argument—the way you secretly stare at me wherever I go—ah, fuck—”

“I don’t—” You gasp, thighs trembling under your weight. He wraps an arm along your stomach, holding you still while he pushes in deeper. “I never—”

“And the way you lie just like now,” He chuckles, kissing the middle of your shoulder blades. “Fuck, you’re so cute—so fucking cute that it pisses me off whenever you talk about Armin when we both know he can’t satisfy you the way I do—he doesn’t understand you—doesn’t get your stupid jokes—” He begins to fall out of rhythm, hips moving faster with each thrust. “He doesn’t deserve you—I deserve you.”

You catch the sight of your reflection, noticing how he sometimes throws his head back in pleasure, his strong hands gripping the sides of your waist as he rolls his hips, again and again, thrusting into you until you can only cry out his name and nothing more. It’s too obscene, too erotic for your eyes to witness, and when he locks his gaze with yours in the mirror, you nearly faint.

“E-Eren—” You reach out a hand behind you, trying to find him for support but he holds your wrist against your spine, pumping into you with strong strokes. He leaves you with no option but to press the side of your face against the marble countertop, your mouth parting in a silent scream.

The sounds of his groans and your whimpers echo through the bathroom walls, along with the sound of your skin slapping against his. His teeth prickling against your shoulder, his eyes drifting back to the mirror to see how you look underneath him. He sinks his fangs deep into you one more time, making various sounds of pleasure as he drinks your blood.

“Ren—”

“Cum,” he orders, growling against your skin. “Come on, baby, I need you to cum on my cock." The sensation of his thrust, his fingers slightly choking you as he holds you by your neck, and the amount of endorphin that washes over you soon drives you to your release. You mewl out his name, clenching tightly around him. "Mmm, yeah, fuck, just like that—" Eren lets out a guttural moan with his head thrown back in pleasure. He's not giving you a chance to ride your orgasm slowly as he continues ramming his length into you. "Perfect. You're so fucking perfect, Princess. Feel so good around my cock—”

A train of expletives tumbles from his mouth as he embraces you closer, feeling every shake that you emit directly with his body. You’re not sure if it’s from the loss of blood or everything else combined, but your vision starts to blur and suddenly your world turns black.

***

When you wake up, you’re lying down on your bed, staring at the ceiling you’ve seen a million times with your eyes barely open. You’re still pretty much in a haze, not sure if you’re still floating inside your dream or you’ve returned to reality. It’s until your door opens with a click that you can start to differentiate.

“Ah, you’re awake.” He peeks inside through the door holding your favorite mug, already dressed back in his favorite black tee and matching jeans. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Can I come in?”

He walks in without needing an answer and, weirdly, he doesn’t seem nervous or awkward. Unlike you whose blood is rushing fast to your face, your heart thrashing wildly inside your rib cages. A flashback comes in like an unstoppable train and you almost reach out a hand to your neck, wanting to know if his bite marks are still there.

The way he acts is so natural that you begin to wonder whether all that happened was simply your imagination. But when you try to move your body, jolts of pain run like electricity to your bones, and you freeze. It feels like somebody is trying to crack your head open, tearing your body apart. You fall back to the bed, weak and enervated.

“You all right?” He immediately rushes to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed before he gathers your face in his hands. He observes you closely, looking for signs of discomfort. “Be careful, okay? You lost a lot of blood, so I wouldn’t move too much if I were you. I brought you some coconut water. Here,” he places the mug down on your nightstand. “And some supplements too. They’ll help with your blood loss. I’ll cook some fish and eggs for dinner later.”

You can only nod, too tired to even speak. His eyes begin to soften, his fingers reaching out to caress the strands of your hair. “I guess I went a bit overboard, I’m sorry.”

“A bit…?” You croak out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, unable to stop a smile from forming on his face. “I tried so hard not to but you were so cute.” He leans closer, his lips hovering above yours but he rethinks his decision before he closes the gap. He moves to bestow a gentle kiss on your forehead instead. “You should go back to sleep,” he murmurs against your skin. “Call me when you need help. I’ll be right outside.”

He doesn’t spare you a glance as he stands up from the bed, but the way he trips on his feet once makes you realize that oh, maybe he’s embarrassed about all of this too.

“Eren.”

He stops in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder as he lays a hand on your doorframe. “Yeah?”

“Where does this leave us?”

His face turns stern. Spinning over to face you, he questions further. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you pause, wetting your lip in anxiety. “Do you want us to pretend it didn’t happen?”

His eyes darken, seemingly upset. “Do you?”

“I… Uhh…” Your heart is beating so fast that you feel nauseous. “I don’t, but—”

“Then don’t suggest something like that,” he sighs, walking back to your bed again. He kneels on the floor so you’re eye-to-eye, squeezing your hand with his larger one. “Don’t scare me, okay? I finally have you where I want you.”

You look away, attempting to hide your flustered face. “But then, what are we now?”

“I don’t care what we are. I just want us to keep doing this.”

“Doing what, having sex? Drinking my blood?”

“No, idiot.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean, yes, of course, that too. Plenty of that. But what I meant was I want to continue to have this kind of relationship with you. Just the two of us living together, making fun of each other, or spending hours watching re-runs of your stupid TV shows.”

“They’re not stupid.”

“They’re stupid. I only watch them because of you. You are my favorite show.” He winks to break the tension and you blurt out laughing, shoving him playfully by the shoulder. But when your giggle starts to fade, Eren leans in to cup your cheek, smiling softly. “I just want to spend more time with you, as long as you’d let me. So can we have that? Please?”

“I…” You’re so captivated by his features. The perfect shape of his lips is the one that steals your attention away. “I guess…”

“You guess?” He scrunches up his nose cutely like a child. “You’re playing hard to get again? Really? After all the begging you did in the bathroom?” Seeing you turn flustered only makes him want to tease you even harder. “What was it that you said? God, Eren, I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me—“

“Okay, shut up, geez!” You slap a hand against his mouth, steam practically coming out of your ears. “Yes, we can have that. I’d… love to have that actually.”

Kissing your inner palm, he lovingly smiles against your skin, appreciating your honesty. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Princess?”

***

A/N:

There will be a prequel for this fic, called BEFORE DAWN, which will flesh out more details on Eren's background story when he was a royalty 845 years ago. It will be a tragic love story between a prince and his servant, and how he ended up being turned into a monster at the end.

Click here if you want to be added to my taglist!

If you haven't read the other story I made for Vampire Eren called MIDNIGHT BITE, you can check it out here.

SUPER MASSIVE THANKS to Nokky and Sandra for being my first readers. I love you girls so soooo much ❤️❤️❤️

Also, this is a rewrite of my old NCT fic called Love Bites so if it feels familiar, you know why hehe

Tagging:

@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @princess-jaeger @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashgremlin36 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @ackersune @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult @holycandypizza Thanks for reading, lovelies! ❤️

#eren smut #eren fluff #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger fluff #eren yeager fluff #eren #eren jaeger #eren yeager #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #midnight bite canon

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Title: A Storm is coming (Chapter 27) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Chosen Undead/Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Lord's Blade Ciaran Word Count: 5.676 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603610/chapters/59304391 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/617920779524440064/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-26-fandom-dark

Summary: Ornstein needs a moment after Artorias' death, so Tempest leaves him be for the moment, exploring on his own, only for the dragon slayer to appear and tell him some bad news.

(Author's note: I was suddenly super inspired for this fic, so I decided to write the next chapter earlier. Please enjoy!

While not technically fanart for this fic, the wonderful @velvialines drew Ornstein and the little Storm as frogs, which you can find here, so please give them some love.)

“Come on, where is it?!”, Tempest murmured to himself as he was searching through Ornstein's bag, tossing a canteen and several wrapped pieces of jerky on the ground as well as a bag that smelled like it was filled with herbs (was that catmint?!). He only stopped tossing stuff on the ground, when he had a tea cup in the form of a dragon in his hand. Tempest delicately put it on the ground, pulled out a wooden dragon as well as a scarf with a dragon design, briefly wondering if he should use the scarf to bandage Ornstein's wound, when he finally found some bandages stuffed at the very bottom of Ornstein's bag.

Tempest unreeled the bandages, glanced at Ornstein who was currently still sitting near the lifeless body of Artorias and then used his sword to cut the right amount that would be needed to wrap Ornstein's arm. Once the bandages were prepared, Tempest walked over to Ornstein.

“Ornstein.”, he started. “We need to bandage your arm.”

Ornstein had his head lowered, his gaze probably fixed on Artorias, a face that looked peaceful. If not for the grave wounds on the wolf knights body, somebody could have thought he was merely sleeping.

“Leave me alone.”, Ornstein said without raising his head.

“...I know that you need some space.”, Tempest said, shifting from foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable. “But let me at least help you bandage your arm first, you are bleeding.” Tempest proceeded to come closer to Ornstein and attempted to remove the armour covering the dragon slayer's left arm, but before he could strip even one piece of metal, Ornstein was shoving him with his good arm, making Tempest land on the ground with a thud.

“I said, leave me alone, little Storm!”, Ornstein shouted and for the first time since Artorias had drawn his last breath, he looked at Tempest and despite all the rage and grief in his heart, he couldn't help but feel guilty, seeing the little Storm sitting on the ground like that, with his big blue eyes showing a certain disbelief, and, oh no, were these tears welling up in them?

“Please let me help you, Ornstein.”, Tempest said, getting up and slowly walking back to the dragon slayer, fiddling with his armour once again.

“Fine.”, Ornstein said, averting his gaze and looking down at Artorias again. He never had wanted to live through this ever again and now he had, up close and he now also knew just who had been the mysterious nameles Undead who had killed him. Freed him. His mind knew that Tempest had done the right thing, but Ornstein's heart wasn't ready to forgive him yet.

“Oh, ouch.”, Tempest said once he had stripped Ornstein's armour and saw the amount of damage on his arm. The wound was hefty, a deep gash, that surely would need stitches to heal properly. The area around the wound was heavily bruised and Tempest didn't want to know how bad it would look once it started to heal.

All Tempest could do for now was cleaning it, with Ornstein not even flinching, his mind was somewhere completely else and then wrapping the bandages around it tightly to prevent further bleeding. He regretted that he had forgotten almost anything about proper first aid and how to treat wounds, because as an Undead, Estus would heal any wound and if the Estus was failing, a bonfire would and if the Estus was empty and no bonfire in sight, death would await him and he had to take a long, arduous journey again, hoping to retrieve the souls he had lost.

“There.”, Tempest said once the arm was completely covered by bandages. “This should hold you over until we manage to return to Anor Londo and Gw..., the Dark Sun, can have a look on it.”

Ornstein didn't answer and Tempest got the message. Ornstein wanted to be left alone, how he had said earlier, so Tempest quickly put Ornstein's belonging back in his bag and then grabbed for his own.

“I will explore the garden.”, he said. “Don't worry, I won't run off and I won't turn hollow.”, Tempest took a few steps away from Ornstein before turning around another time, adding: “Please, don't turn hollow yourself...”

Tempest then went away with long strides, which still felt puny when compared to Ornstein's and crossed Chester, who looked at him. Tempest wondered if he had heard the fight, but wasn't too keen on talking with him or anyone at the moment, stepping on the elevator and riding it up. On the way, Tempest checked his Estus, it still was generously filled, because Ornstein had done the brunt of the fighting since they had last rested at a bonfire.

Arrived at the top of the garden, Tempest let his gaze wander over it and groaned. Ornstein had taken the shortest route to the coliseum and therefore all the guardians and scarecrows were still present. Tempest could at least spot three of the guardians and each and every one of them was accompanied by at least two scarecrows.

“Focus.”, he said to himself, putting an arrow in his bow and bend it, letting the arrow fly, hitting one of the nearest scarecrows right in the head. “Yes.”, Tempest whispered joyful to himself, his aim really was getting better. Though his joy was short lived, because the other scarecrow and the guardian were on their way.

Tempest switched to his sword and managed to get rid of the scarecrow by cutting off one of its arm as well as driving the sword into its head and then the guardian arrived. Tempest braced himself, his thoughts wandered to the giant sentinels of Anor Londo, foes that he never had quite figured out.

“Damn.”, Tempest said to himself. “Why did it have to be giant stone knights?!”

Tempest managed to dodge out of the way of the first strike, but the second hit him and before he could even get up, he got hit a third time and found himself back at the bonfire.

Tempest sighed and searched for a humanity, but decided against it, he would probably die a few more times while he tried to figure out the guardians, so he shouldered his sword and went back into the garden, dispatching the first two scarecrows that had somehow repaired themselves in the meantime and walking back to the centre, luring out the scarecrows again and grabbing his souls before the guardian came too close.

Three deaths later Tempest had figured out how the guardians worked and was looking at the cleared centre of the garden, littered with the remains of scarecrows and guardians. There was a little pond in the middle. Tempest went near it, but couldn't see anything valuable, so he sat down, removed his boots and dipped his feet into the water. Despite his hollowed out body it was nice to feel how the water cooled his overheated food down and he sighed as he relaxed, getting out the soul of Artorias that had latched onto his darksign after the fight, investigating it and cradling it in his arms. It was fascinating, but also felt kind of sad. The souls of the other beings, especially the lord souls, had been light and full of flames, feeling warm, this soul was tainted with the dark, feeling cold and.. wrong.

“You know, Ornstein always said to me that you would like me.”, Tempest said to the soul, even though he was pretty sure that Artorias wasn't able to hear him. Souls didn't possess any awareness and if, he would feel horrible for all the souls he had crushed to gain a bit more soul power. Still, it felt calming to talk to the soul, especially with Ornstein out of the commission for now.

“I was so excited to get to meet you.”, Tempest said. “I didn't had a clue that it would end like this... Ornstein knew it, but he never told me. I always thought the legend of the Abysswalker that my mom told me was true. The great knight Artorias, who traversed the abyss, fought the Dark Wraiths and slayed the beast that had born the abyss itself and saved the princess abducted by it, but tragically fell shortly after that to his injuries...”

Tempest lightly squeezed the soul which wavered under his touch. “Who would have thought that it was all a lie...?”

Tears started to well up in Tempest's eyes: “And... and Ornstein! He knew about all this! He must have made sure that the false version spread. How must he have felt?! About knowing that you, his friend, failed his mission and he had to tell people a lie? I can't even fathom it. He... he must have been through so much...”

Tempest sniffled and wiped his eyes at his sleeves. “Look at how emotional I get over him. I have to admit, I have fallen for Ornstein. Fallen really hard for him, but... he doesn't like me the same. He wants to reconcile with his old master...”

Tempest looked at the soul in his hands and then continued: “Oh, but I shouldn't bother you with my problems. I need to come to terms with it. I am just a human, even worse, an undead, Ornstein is some kind of demigod, why should he ever fall for me? He only promised to escort me to the flame, after that, our ways will part.”

Still, speaking it out aloud made something sting in Tempest's chest and it wasn't the darksign.

“...I want at least to be a good friend to him as long as we are still travelling together. Did you know that I found your old baking book? Ornstein told me that I can keep it. I still have it with me.” Tempest put the soul in his lap and searched through his bag, producing the book. “There are so many recipes in there and I made the sheep cookies, because Ornstein likes sheep. He loved them. If not for my mission, I would love to stand in the kitchen and bake all of the recipes for him all day.”

Tempest flipped through the book and rambled on: “Here, like the ginger bread cookies or the lemon pie or the dragon fruit cake or...” Tempest stopped as he read a certain note in the beautiful hand writing of the Abysswalker. “The apple pie... Artorias, you cared a lot for him, right? You two must have been best friends... I am... I am so sorry that I ripped you apart.”

Tempest hugged the soul with both of his arms, the book on his lap falling to the ground, thankfully not into the water and he couldn't stop the tears from arising anew. It was all too sad. The fate of Artorias, a fallen and failed knight, how much his death hurt Ornstein, who practically had to live through it the second time and that it in fact had been Tempest who had taken him down, not wanting to lose Ornstein.

“I wish I had never picked up that pendant.”, he choked out. “Then Ornstein wouldn't have gotten so hurt.”

Tempest stayed like this for a few more minutes, until his tears ebbed off and then put Artorias soul back into his darksign, getting up. He felt really hot and sweaty and planned to wash his face a bit deeper in the pond, so he went closer to the middle only to trip and fall face first into the pond.

The good thing was, that he wasn't feeling hot and sweaty anymore, the bad thing was that his clothes were drenched and his foot hurt. As he shot up, gasping and coughing because of the water invading his lungs, he noticed that he had tripped over a chest. Not a mimic or he would have already been eaten.

“Huh, I didn't notice this earlier...”, he said and proceeded to open the chest to reveal a titanite slab, blue in colour. “Hm, these were for the magic weapons...”, Tempest murmured and his thoughts wandered to Griggs and Logan. Griggs had left Fire Link Shrine the last time he had been there and he had last seen Logan in the Duke's Archives. He should check on them once they managed to escape this place. After Ornstein had gotten proper treatment for his arm and be put into a bed and got some proper food.

Tempest waded through the pond back to dry land, pocketing the blue titanite slab, planning to give it to Rickert. The blacksmith had locked himself in, in fear of Lordran and was bored out of his mind. He seemed to excel on making magic weapons, so Tempest planned to gift him some of the weapons he didn't use for him to tinker.

Outside of the pond, Tempest got out a towel and dried himself off as good as he could, at least his armour was made out of leather and would be able to dry easily, not letting too much water to his skin. After Tempest was reasonably dry, he put on his boots and grabbed for his bag, when a shadow loomed over him.

“Oh, hey, Ornstein.”, Tempest said, recognizing the sharp and spiky silhouette of the dragon slayer everywhere. “Are you feeling better?”

“It was you.”, was all that Ornstein had to say as response.

“Excuse me?”

“It was you, little Storm! You are the Undead who fought and killed Artorias and the very same Undead went to take out the beast of the Abyss and even Kalameet! It was you!”

“Huh?”, Tempest said, his eyeholes staring at Ornstein, slowly processing the information, before blurting out: “Wait, what?!”

“I know, it is hard to believe.”, Ornstein said, crossing his arms, but wincing and relaxing his left arm, letting it dangle limply at his side.

“It's not hard to believe, it's downright impossible.”, Tempest said, ruffling his wet hair with both of his hands. “I am a mess, Ornstein! I died a million times! I fought like... a whole week against you and the executioner and even after that, I wanted to give up and you had to come with me so that I had even the hint of a chance! How should I be the one who defeated this powerful foes?!”

“Little Storm, you need to calm down!”, Ornstein said, holding both of Tempest's hand, which only made the Undead blush in return. “Don't forget that I am here with you. I will help you taking them down, but... you certainly need to play a part in it too. Don't be afraid. I know a lot about dragons and the beast of the Abyss has already been weakened by Artorias, you can do it.”

Tempest took a few deep breathes and then nodded. “Y.. yes.. you are right. You are at my side, Ornstein. I can do anything when you are at my side.”

Hearing that made Ornstein's heart sink a bit, remembering just what would happen to Tempest once they had reached the first flame. He shook off the bad feeling and decided to instead motivate Tempest a bit, regardless what happened to him in the future, in the current time he was still there: “Don't forget, little Storm, that you made it all the way to the Lordvessel by yourself. That is quite some achievement.”

Tempest took a deep breath, putting a hand over his heart, or more, his darksign and said: “Y...yes, you are right. Thank you, Ornstein.” Tempest straightened his posture and then looked at Ornstein's arm. “But... Ornstein, you are hurt. Will you be able to fight?”

“Oh, that...”, Ornstein said. “Sure, it hurts, but I can still use my dominant arm. I should just try and don't strain my left arm too much. It least it doesn't appear to be broken, it is more a nasty cut.”

Tempest grimaced, thinking about how deep the gash was and how heavily the arm had bruised already. “Are you sure you alright, Ornstein?”, Tempest asked, referring to the emotional state of the dragon slayer.

“...I have to...”, Ornstein said and Tempest was sure that Ornstein simply was hiding his feelings, that he would like to lay in bed and cry until his tears ran out, but that he was keeping it together for the sake of Tempest.

“A...alright then.”, Tempest said and nodded again. “Then, uh, where should we head first?”

“The dragon.”, Ornstein said. “I saw him flying over to the basin, we should take him out first. Besides, I fear that killing the beast will throw us back into our own time.”

“Good.”, Tempest said, feeling light headed. He had fought dragons before, but one had been a horrible abomination with far too many teeth and the other one had been some mad sorcerer. Fighting a dragon like the black one they had seen made him incredible nervous. He would spit fire, wouldn't he? Would Ornstein be able to stay calm in the fight? Didn't he knew the dragon from earlier? Then why was he still alive? Had Ornstein never slayed him?

“Wait.”, Ornstein said, as Tempest turned around to head to the elevator. “Please regain your human form first.”

“Oh, of course.”, Tempest said and sprinted back to the bonfire.

As he returned, Ornstein waited for him next to the corpses of two scarecrows and started walking without saying a single word. Tempest followed him, also not saying a single word, assuming that Ornstein wasn't up for small talk and also because he was still nervous about having to fight this dragon.

The both of them rode down the elevator to the coliseum and Tempest followed Ornstein as he made a turn to the right, walking past Chester and entering a small chasm, crossing it with steady strides, Tempest running behind him, until Ornstein suddenly froze.

“Ugh, dogs...”, Ornstein said and took a step back.

“Ugh...”, Tempest joined in. “I hate them... They are so hard to hit and so fast and they killed me a few times surely...”

“L.. little Storm...”, Ornstein gasped. “C.. could you take care of them? Me and dogs... don't... work.”

“Um, alright.”, Tempest said, staring at Ornstein whose whole stance was rather stiff. He took this sword in both hands and charged at he first dog he could see. While they were swift and nimble, they weren't able to sustain much damage and so one strike of Tempest's sword was enough to strike it down. Unfortunately, the painful yip of the now dead dog attracted two others and while Tempest fought them off, he managed to get bitten once.

“Ouch, they never want to let go...”, Tempest hissed before he took a sip of Estus to heal the wound. Next to him, Ornstein seemed to relax.

“Thank you, little Storm.”, he said, continuing to walk.

“You and animals really don't get along, huh?”, Tempest said. “Well, besides sheep...”

“...I wasn't me who decided that they should dislike me.”, Ornstein simply grumbled, still making a curve around the corpses. They would come back anyway, the dogs were undead. How in the world an animal managed to get a darksign and turn hollow was out of Tempest's understanding, but he stopped trying to make sense of stuff once he had arrived in Lordran. Especially when he had found a message on the ground that told him to jump and only led to another painful death. Why would another Undead play such a cruel prank? Tempest had marked the messenger as liar once he had came back from the dead.

Ornstein only stopped once they were at the top of a basin, the same one that Tempest had looked down earlier from another angle, he recognized the sound and sight of the massive waterfall. While Tempest was focusing on looking down though, searching for a way to safely descend, Ornstein looked up in the air. Tempest joined him when he heard the flap of wings and saw the black dragon soaring over the basin.

“So what is our plan?”, Tempest asked. “You are the dragon slayer, so you probably know better than I how to tackle the fight.”

“...I think we should go and talk to Gough.”, Ornstein said.

“Huh?”, Tempest looked at Ornstein. “Why? Shouldn't you be able to weaken it with your lightning? Jump on its back and clip its wings? Isn't your whole being a counterpoint for that dragon?”

“It isn't as easy as that, little Storm.”, Ornstein said, shifting from foot to foot, readjusting his grip on his spear. “Why do you think this dragon is still around? Why do you think he is called Kalameet? That dragon managed to beat me. In fact, he is the reason for that scar on my left shoulder and back.”

Tempest's eyes went wide as he stared at Ornstein. There was a dragon that Ornstein hadn't been able to say. The dragon slayer had failed to slay this exact dragon. And now said dragon slayer wanted for Tempest to slay the dragon he couldn't.

“You couldn't slay it and now you expect for me to slay it?!”, Tempest practically screamed at Ornstein.

“It happened. I saw Kalameet's corpse. Gough confirmed to me that it was the same Undead that had slain Artorias.” Tempest didn't miss the bitterness in Ornstein's voice at the last part. “Under normal circumstances, I would be able to get that dragon from the sky and help you preparing him for the finishing blow, but... I am hurt.” Ornstein raised his left arm with quite some effort and then let it hang limp again. “And you are no match for a dragon that isn't grounded. It is luck that Gough is here, because he can shoot Kalameet out of the sky. In fact, he told me that he helped with grounding Kalameet, so we absolutely need to talk to him. Or, you should talk to him. I shouldn't even be here.”

“Oh, alright.”, Tempest said, a bit disappointed that he couldn't see Ornstein, the dragon slayer, in action again, but he had a good point about being hurt. Ornstein hadn't mentioned it, but he wasn't only physically hurt, his emotions were properly all over the place too, even though he tried very hard to stay calm and collected. Tempest wondered if a part of Ornstein resented him, because he had preferred to end Artorias's suffering instead of hoping that he would break out of the corruption.

“Where is Gough?”, Tempest asked, already turning around.

“In a tower watching over the coliseum. That is why he knew all about the fight with Artorias. He had heard everything.”

Heard, not seen? Only a few moments after Ornstein had finished speaking, Tempest rememberd that Gough had apparently fallen blind after the dragon war. If that was the case, Tempest wondered how he should help them. Would he shoot arrows until he landed a lucky shot? Tempest shrugged and followed Ornstein, who already had passed him and was heading back to the coliseum.

Once they arrived at the coliseum and Ornstein entered it, the dragon slayer suddenly snatched Tempest and was holding a hand in front of his mouth, preventing him from the rather important act of breathing.

“Hnngh, Orn...stein..”, he brought out, as he realized that the dragon slayer had trouble with his own breathing, muttering something like “Keep it together.”

“Orn...”, Tempest tried again and Ornstein aggressively shushed him, only to realize a second later how tight he had grabbed Tempest and let him fall to the ground, where the small Undead gasped for air.

“What was that about?!”, Tempest yelled, both hands at his hips.

“Shhhh.”, Ornstein shushed Tempest yet again and then pointed with this thumb into the coliseum. “Ciaran... she's in there...”

“The Lord's Blade?!”, Tempest eyes lit up, not only Gough, but also Ciaran, he was going to meet even the last of the legendary knights, but then his gaze darkened as he realized just why Ornstein was so nervous. “Oh... I am sorry.”, he said, scraping the ground with his foot. Ciaran wasn't there anymore in their own time. Thinking about it, Gough also wasn't there anymore. Tempest wondered how Ornstein was feeling, not only after having to see Artorias die, but then having to see both of his old friend and companion, that had died too, again. He just wondered why Ornstein was so much more nervous about Ciaran than Gough.

“...I can't go in there.”, Ornstein said. “Like I said, I shouldn't be here right now. My... past self stayed behind in Anor Londo. Ciaran went after Artorias on her own free will, but alas, she had been too late.”

“...Do you want me to go talk to her, Ornstein?”, Tempest asked.

The dragon slayer stared at Tempest for a while before slowly nodding and then adding in a quiet voice: “...I am sure she would like to have his soul.”

Tempest nodded and turned around to retrieve the soul from his darksign. Once he had it, cradled in both of his hands, Ornstein nodded ah him. Tempest didn't move from the spot and then slowly spoke: “...Ornstein. Do you want me to say something to her?”

Ornstein stayed silent for a moment, in fact, so long that Tempest almost entered the coliseum, thinking that Ornstein would never speak, but then he heard the dragon slayer's voice, speaking in a feeblish tone: “Please tell her, I am sorry...”

Tempest nodded and entered the coliseum. Hadn't Artorias said a similar thing? Tempest wondered more and more, what Ciaran was for a person and what she meant to both Ornstein and Artorias. Upon looking around, he soon spotted the hornet, looking just as in the tales he had heard and just as on the wooden board Ornstein had drawn her on, with the bluish leather armour and the long braided ponytail. He couldn't see her face, because she was currently kneeling in front of what looked like a make shift grave, but Tempest knew that she was wearing a mask anyway.

Tempest slowly approached her, looking down at the soul. It wasn't like he wanted these things, they just flocked to him, to his darksign and because it was feeling nice when it was filled with souls, he usually left them there. Tempest didn't really had any idea what to do with them other than crushing them, but he felt like he wouldn't respect the foes he had fought if he would do this. It was a lot different as with the souls of the nameless corpses he found littered through Lordran, that ones were just leftovers from a failure, not someone he had beaten in a fight to the death. Even though his death would never be final.

Once Tempest stood behind Ciaran, he cleared his throat and prompted the lord's blade to turn around. Like expected, she had her mask on and it was impossible to see what she felt, just like with Ornstein and his helmet, but when she spoke, Tempest could hear the pain in her voice.

“…You, is that not…”, she spoke. “The soul of the man who fell on this spot?” She hesitated for a second before speaking again. “He was a dear friend. I wish to pay proper respect, with that soul. Would you be willing to part with it?”

For some reason, Tempest was at a loss for words and simply nodded his head, handing the soul to Ciaran.

Ciaran spoke again, this time her voice took on a softer tone: “Thank you. You are very kind. Please take this. I no longer need it. May the Lord guide thee.”

When Tempest looked down at his hands, he saw that Ciaran had shoved both of her blades into his hands, when he remembered, they were called Gold Tracer and Silver Tracer. He frowned at them, why was she giving him her weapons?

“Um...”, he finally spoke. “Are you sure about this? Aren't this your weapons? Can you be a knight without them?”

Ciaran raised her head and looked at him. “There is no need for me anymore to be a knight.”, she said. “Surely you have other business to attend to instead of disturbing me in my grief.”

“Oh, yes...”, Tempest said, looking down, feeling awful for not having considered how she must have felt. She had just lost a dear friend and that after he had seen how Ornstein had reacted to it. He blamed it that he had expected for her to be more talkative. “I should go then...”, he said, but then remembered Ornstein's words: “Oh, just one thing. I shall deliver a message for you.” He took a deep breath and then whispered: “Ornstein and Artorias both apologize to you.”

Ciaran jerked her head around, staring at Tempest, but the small Undead had already running away, returning to Ornstein.

“Well.”, Tempest said. “I could give her the soul and your words, but I don't have the feeling she wanted to talk to me.” Tempest looked down at his hands and remembered that he was still carrying her weapons. “She gave me those. I don't think I could use them. Do you want them, Ornstein?”

“...So she had decided to leave as soon as Artorias had fallen...”, Ornstein said and took the weapons from Tempest's hands. “Her decision shocked me back then... I was expecting for her to come back to Anor Londo with me. I would have needed her, but at the same time, Ciaran would have needed me.” Ornstein traced along the weapons with his thumb, Tempest was glad that he was wearing thick metal gauntlets, because otherwise that probably would have meant death.

“Ornstein?”, Tempest asked, fidgeting with his fingers. “Do you need a moment?”

Ornstein stopped tracing the weapons to look at Tempest and then said: “Yes, little Storm. Let us sit outside of the coliseum for a while.”

The both of them sat down in the room with the elevator and Ornstein leaned against the wall, a deep sigh escaping his throat. “This place is opening all my old wounds.”, he murmured.

“Ornstein, may I ask what happened to Ciaran in our time?”, Tempest asked, knowing that he maybe shouldn't push Ornstein so much, but he was also curious why Ornstein felt the need to apologize to her.

“I haven't seen her sadness.”, Ornstein simply said. “I have been a bad friend to her, but seeing what happened to Artorias, it seems like we can't change the past, we are simply forced to see it all played out like intended. ...We probably have been here the first time it happened. In a sense, all what is happening is happening now and we are a part of it.”

“Ouch, Ornstein, you are making my head hurt.”, Tempest said, leaning against the other wall of the room, deciding to drop the topic about what had happened to Ciaran, clearly Ornstein blamed himself for it. Tempest could ask him when Ornstein wasn't forced working through the wounds of his past.

After a good while, which was spend in silence, well, Ornstein spend it in silence, Tempest tried to convince him to drink some water and eat some jerky, which Ornstein denied, they got up and went back to the coliseum. Upon looking into it, Tempest saw that Ciaran wasn't there anymore and so the both of them entered it. Ornstein straight went to the grave of Artorias and took in a prayer stance. Tempest followed him and also gave his respects, seeing the corpse of Artorias from the corner of his eyes. As his eyes went back to the grave, he saw a white flower and what looked suspiciously like the tassel of Artorias' helmet.

Ornstein rose without saying a word and then went to the other end of the coliseum, climbing a long flight of stairs, which made Tempest pant once they finally were on top, and then stopping in front of an iron door. He took a deep breath and reached for the handle only to see that it was locked.

“Damn.”, Ornstein said. “And no key in sight.”

“Can't you just break it down?”, Tempest asked, but Ornstein shook his head.

“If Gough has let this door locked, it has a reason. I don't want to go against his wishes by destroying the door, so that everyone can come and go as they please. The door was unlocked when I went here back then, after Ciaran had send me a message, so let's move on. The key must be hidden somewhere around here.”

“When I was able to find it, it can't be hidden that badly.”, Tempest grinned and the both of them left the coliseum, stopping at a bonfire which Tempest lighted and then used to strengthen his soul power. Ornstein in the meantime was staring down a warbled mess of what once must have been a town.

“The Oolacile township.”, he said. “It has been so long since I had been here last, but I still remember its dangers and perils. Little Storm, follow my lead this time around. And keep out an eye for that key. Naturally, when my past self got here, the whole place had already been looted.”

Tempest joined Ornstein and nodded, letting his gaze wander across the area that led downwards, trying not to appear to nervous. They were going to fight a dragon and an abyss beast, what could be the worst that could happen? He took his sword in both hands, gave Ornstein another nod and then the both of them stepped into hostile territory. (Author's note: I know this chapter is a bit filler, but when I would have added the township, it would have gotten far too long and crowded, so I decided to put it into the next chapter. Wish me luck, because I will attempt Kalameet with midroll. As always, I want to talk to you guys, so please talk to me in the comments.) Chapter 28

#dark souls #fanfiction #dragon slayer ornstein #chosen undead #oc tempest #orndead #lord's blade ciaran #littlewritesstuff

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rinusagitora · 5 years

Text

All that draws us together

Fandom: BLEACH

Characters: Momo Hinamori, Izuru Kira, Rangiku Matsumoto, Shinji Hirako, Nanao Ise, Roujuurou Outoribashi

Pairings: RenShuuKiraHina, Rannao, ShinRose

Words: 15,000+

Summary: Chapter 01. For Bleach Big Bang 2019. Fanart done by @worksbyweeds. WARNINGS--- smut, referenced abusive relationships, referenced self-injury, alcoholism; Momo knows all the ups and downs from life and love, yet she rides it again and again.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946449/chapters/47231944

Dreamwidth: N/A

FFN: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13345338/1/All-that-draws-us-together (sfw)

Momo's ears rang, an alarm may as well have gone off with the volume it blared. She couldn’t begin to comprehend even the simplest statements from the reports on her desk thanks to the phantom noise.

Truthfully, she expected no different. Sousuke Aizen was locked away more than two years ago, yet the fog never lifted. Her memories from the academy onwards were a big, ugly smudge only discernible as anxiety, and so much time had passed, Momo couldn’t begin to name the source of her ill feelings. Was it the taint built up inside of her guts? The sensation Sousuke was just beyond one of the thin walls on all sides of her, back to try again?

Izuru Kira sat before her suddenly. The chair he used scraped against the wood floor and the sound nearly made Momo hop out the window.

“Hello,” he greeted as he twirled a coin between his synthetic fingers. Momo never realized how lifeless his eyes were. Could he blink with such dry eyes?

“Hello, Kira-kun.” Momo wondered how long we watched her sweat. “Your arm is surprisingly functional.” She never cared for small talk, but she didn’t want to give away just how brain dead she felt.

“Kurotsuchi isn’t hailed a genius for no reason,” Izuru replied bitterly. Momo wondered if he wished Mayuri Kurotsuchi never resurrected him. The thought made her teary-eyed. Her and Izuru drifted after graduation. Izuru was transferred to another division, Momo moved up the ranks in gobantai, Sousuke’s plan to use them as pawns never kept them close either. But Momo still regarded Izuru as a dear friend. A symbol simpler days where she wasn’t beaten and he wasn’t dead.

“I hope rehabilitation hasn’t been too hard on you,” Momo said.

“No. It’s a part of me as much as my other arm.”

“What brings you here?” Momo supposed that was enough chitchat. She only saw at their lieutenant meetings, but his back was always to her and his shirt didn’t seem so baggy where the hole in his chest was.

Part of her wondered if he yearned for the years before they were broken too, when Izuru screamed how he didn’t want to die, and when her chest didn’t hurt all the damn time.

“I would like to reconnect.” That answered Momo’s question, at least.

“Me too. I owe you an apology anyways.” She owed him many apologies, him and so many other people.

“I owe you one too. But those can be postponed. I would like to take you to dinner tonight, somewhere nice if you didn’t have any plans.”

Momo never had plans. She was a homebody, always stuck in her dark barracks, where she obsessively cleaned everything in sight. Her bruised knees never healed because she scrubbed her floor every evening. She cooked for everyone under the sun and then washed her dishes twice over. She washed her upholstery twice a week because otherwise it smelled too much like Sousuke if she waited any longer. Momo hadn’t even gone out to eat for twenty years because her chest collapsed whenever she ventured away from her usual routine.

But she owed it to Izuru many things many times over. She needed a start somewhere.

“Tonight works fine. Did you have anywhere in mind?”

“We could meet at The Dragon’s Hoard in the North Rukongai. I could also pick you up at your barracks so you won’t have to walk. I made sure to clean the carriage,” Izuru propositioned.

A carriage was awfully flashy. Momo garnered enough attention after Sousuke Aizen defected. What would her squad think if she suddenly paraded around with another man, and one from money, after her tryst with a traitor and her attacks against her allies? Two years was decent time for her, but for some people, two or three years was a blink of an eye. “No need, I prefer walking,” she answered. “Shall I be there around seven tonight?”

“Splendid. I’ll see you then.” Izuru stood and deposited his coin on her desk. “I’ll get out of your hair now, Hinamori. Take care.”

Momo picked up his coin. He bent it into the shape of a heart and Momo’s heart felt like he bent it too.

He missed her, he loved her, and Momo was scared to love again.

---

It was impossible for Momo to sit still after Izuru’s visit. She needed her mentor, father figure, her monster spray.

“Captain!” Momo called outside of the rice paper door to Shinji and Rose’s barracks, “I need to speak with you momentarily, may I come inside?”

“The door is open, Momo-chan.”

"I hope I'm not intruding." Momo bowed as Rose motioned her to the table where he and Shinji sat.

"Not at all. We just finished supper," Rose said. "Shinji spilled some sauce on his clothes but he should be back momentarily. Sit, my dear."

"Thank you."

Shinji returned from the bathroom. "Just a heads up, you don't wanna go in there for awhile. That kimchi lit my ass on fire."

Momo grimaced. "So much for the sauce spill," Rose muttered.

"What's on your mind?" Shinji asked with a beer in his hand. "You look like you've seen a fuckin' ghost."

Momo bashfully glanced away. "I'm going on a date with Izuru Kira in a couple hours. I'm not sure how I feel about it."

"About him, or dating?" Shinji asked. “Two very different things, Momo.”

Momo frowned. She knew she missed Izuru Kira. Was it just their past she missed, or him? Or had Sousuke Aizen scared romance out of her altogether like a proper boogeyman?

"I… don't know," she confessed. "The history between us is enormous. I loved a man who hated me. I miss being a cadet with Izuru and Renji because nothing was complicated or painful. Maybe I don't miss Izuru, maybe I just miss the past we shared."

"Then maybe you aren't ready for dating again, Momo." Shinji took a swift swig. "It's only been a handful of years since you were betrayed by someone you loved and laid down your life for. That's a scar more permanent than the one on your chest."

"But there's no time like the present," Rose argued. "When was the last time you went out with a friend, Momo-chan?"

She didn't remember.

"Look, even if it doesn't work out between you two, you'll have tried. If your friendship survived through decades of abuse, will one failed date really smear that irreparably?"

"What if it does?" Momo asked.

"And what if not going means you lose out on a lifetime of happiness?” Rose took her hands into his own. He was knobby like a bird, but his hands cupped around her put her at ease. Rose's violet eyes glimmered too, the eyes of a man who made the most of a situation where he lost his humanity, was thrown from his home, lived a century in hiding, only to return home and marry the love of his life at the end of the whole endeavor. “Momo-chan, life isn't easy. If you are content with your life now, then by all means, go on alone. But if you want something new, perhaps happier, you should open that door and go on a date with Izuru."

Momo thought she ought to take a page rom Rose's and Shinji's book. Even as cautious as her captain was, the risks he took were calculated and almost always ended in his favor.

"I… I would like to go. I should get ready." Momo bowed her head. "Thank you, Captains. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Minutes later, Momo stood before her mirror. She stared at her reflection. With foundation and red lipstick, she looked healthier, younger. Like she didn't smoke religiously and slept uninterrupted for eight hours. Of course, it was all a charade. It was a matter of time until her foundation caked around her crows feet and her red lipstick stained her teeth.

She was nervous. Rose's pep talk only lasted so long. It rubbed off like her makeup rubbed off underneath her nails when she scratched her forehead. Momo knew romance was complicated. God knew she wasn't in her prime anymore. Sousuke soiled her, she aged like milk, her voice was gravelly, and foremost, Momo was a traitor. She turned her sword against her family and friends. She turned against Izuru himself. Not exactly someone to lust for.

But she'd be fine, Rose's voice said. Izuru Kira had his own duressed hand in Sousuke's plot. If anyone let bygones be bygones, it was Izuru.

Momo knew that. Fear was irrational though, she didn't know her way out of it.

A knock came from the door. It just about scared Momo out of her skin. The absence of reiatsu was Izuru's new fingerprint, and so she rushed to the door, smoothed her hair, and then as calmly as humanly possible, she opened her door. Izuru wore a brown yukata decorated with cross-hatching. He was handsome, even with a gaunt face. His throat and his hands were sinewy, and when Momo thought back on it, she was always attracted to that. Her own veins scared her but the lifeless blood in him made him look like marble. Immortal, artful. Handsome.

"Hello," she said, "it's good seeing you."

Izuru nodded, and then he held out his arm for her to take. "Shall we be on our way?"

She held the inside of his elbow with her cupped hand. They walked together slowly, sloppily, like they hadn't ever walked together before. It was kind of cute.

"How's this week treated you?" Momo asked.

"Alright." He shrugged. "Rose says life goes on. If I'm stuck with… with this for awhile," Izuru held up his black arm to demonstrate, "there's no harm in making the most of it."

That was the most optimistic view he had in awhile. She was glad Rose was a good influence on him.

"I'm glad. Paperwork is finally starting to let up, too. The cadets are all registered with my division now. There aren't many transfers or promotions either." She hated when she had nothing to do, but less paperwork meant she had more time for her charcoal drawings. There were so many things to do and just not enough time in the day.

"Yes. It's nice. I have a social life back now. I haven't gone out with Renji and Shuuhei until just recently."

"That must be nice." She was a little jealous of Izuru. Momo long abandoned her social life. Once in awhile she met with Rangiku or Nanao, but since Sousuke Aizen's defeat, she had gone out with them once during New Year's. Otherwise she just saw them at work.

"It was therapeutic," Izuru said. Momo gleaned they drank. A lot.

"So," Izuru began, "what about yourself? Other than work, that is."

She smiled. "I'm uninteresting these days. Work, drawing. I wish I had more to offer you but I'm just... tired."

Izuru sympathetically pet her knuckles. "I understand. It's hard, even so long without them."

Her shoulders felt lighter. "I expected to move on like everyone else, despise them-- no, him, that awful excuse for a man; Sousuke Aizen-- the same as the rest, but I can’t bring myself to. And I expected, with him locked away, that I would sleep easily, but I feel more and more hollow each day, like I’m rotting with him."

Izuru squeezed her fist with his black hand. "I've been without sleep for so long now. Now undead, I wish all of my feelings would vanish, but there is this cavernous negativity that spans more than my body. It's taken over my home. It's taken over me."

"I'm glad we can speak about this,” Momo smiled, “it's hard to do when it's anyone else."

"Yes. I'm scared to speak of it to even Rose. It's a solitary life having to keep all of it bottled up." Izuru turned to her. Even with his dried out eyes, he looked emotional, like they ought to sparkle with melancholy. "I'm glad we can talk about it, though. It hurts talking about it, but it hurts more keeping it bottled up."

"Yes."

She didn't realize how she yearned to complain about her own misery. Momo wouldn’t easily shove her ill feelings back down afterwards.

They made their way to a seafood restaurant in the first district. The establishment had grown on Momo over time. Sousuke didn't like seafood, so its purity of his memory made it her foremost choice on the rare occasion that she wasn't in the mood to cook herself.

Izuru sat across from Momo. Momo folded her legs neatly beneath her, smoothed her hair, and then opened her menu.

"I know you mentioned you don't retain your sense of taste anymore," which was unfortunate, "but if you order the fried shrimp, the server puts on this little demonstration for you. There's fire." Momo was partial to anything which happened to explode.

"We'll be sure to check that out then," Izuru said with a hint of a smile. She couldn't remember the last time he smiled in her presence. He looked positively angelic. "How are you getting along with Captain Hirako?"

Momo thought back to Shinji's visits to her while she was in intensive care for the injuries she received from that monster Ayon. Shinji had that monster within his reach, but he was smart enough to keep Sousuke at arm's reach. The damage would've been gargantuan juxtaposed to hollowfication if he was any closer. Everything Sousuke Aizen touched decayed. Later, when Wandenreich invaded, Shinji was always by Momo’s side like a guardian. Shinji understood her, and he chose to ally himself with her.

"Truthfully, I wasn't sure what to expect at first. Withholding my judgement turned out for the better though, so I'm glad that was the case. Hirako-taichou is very much like a father to me. Our leadership styles mesh very well also. He's not micromanaging us, even when we do something wrong. He's more virtuous than myself."

Izuru nodded. "Good."

After they ordered food, Izuru shamelessly asked for sake (she didn't mind so long as he didn't drink himself into a stupor, she supposed) and she picked at their appetizer. Fried food wasn't her favorite since it laid in her stomach like a rock, but she remembered it fondly from years ago. Afterwards their conversation lulled. It had been so long since anyone courted Momo, she was out of practice and strained to think of something to break the silence. Izuru must have been as uncomfortable as she.

"I'm... sorry, Kira-kun. I'm not very good at this."

Izuru shrugged. "We aren't strangers, Hinamori. There isn't a lot of familiarizing we have to do. Maybe catching up, but we can take that slowly. I feel bad about it as well, but... I don't know, part of me wonders if this is a natural part of us dating."

She smiled sympathetically. "Thank you." At least one of them was rational.

"Hinamori, would you humor me and allow me to read your palm?"

"Since when did you read palms?" she asked as she held out her hand.

"A couple years ago, just out of curiosity." He traced the lines of her hand with his rubbery nail. "Your palms say you've experienced much hardship. Your lifeline is short and branches down. This means you feel weakened by certain negative experiences. Your headline is curious. It's mostly fused with your lifeline, and it's wavy and broken. This means you're creative when it comes to problem-solving, but you can be indecisive when you’re under immense stress. Your heartline begins beneath your index finger. This tells me you're comfortable in long-term relationships, and it's significantly deeper and straighter than the rest of the lines in your palm. Your relationships are incredibly important to you but you can be reserved in your relationships."

Momo realized how close Izuru was to her. Was it a parlor trick to distract her from his proximity so he could steal a kiss? How sweet. Momo wouldn't mind a trick like that. The very thought made her smile like a virgin maiden.

"Kira-kun, are you flirting with me?”

“Is it working?”

“Perhaps.”

Their food interrupted their closeness. Upon the fiery presentation, they clapped and Momo clapped so hard her hands stung. The date was splendid! So splendid, she prayed to muster the courage to cross the threshold and sit in Izuru’s lap. Perhaps it made Momo a whore once again, but couldn’t she enjoy the spare attention handsome men paid her?

“Is it good?” Izuru asked.

“The food? It’s delicious.” Momo pushed her plate to Izuru’s end of the table and made her way to his side. She leaned against him and held up fried shrimp to his head. “I know you can’t taste, but humor me?”

Izuru leaned in and gingerly took a bite of her shrimp. His eyes were half lidded. Momo was so close she caught a whiff of medicated lotion. It wasn’t bad, like peppermint. Despite their proximity, he didn’t lean in for a kiss, or hold her waist, he didn’t dare brush their noses together. Was he gentlemanly or nervous?

She felt ashamed enough to want to apologize. Izuru was as soothing as he was painful. It must hurt him too, like his lungs hurt. She could barely breathe like it was as if her lungs were blown out.

"Did... did I say something, Hinamori? You look upset."

Momo’s breath rattled. “This is just hard. It’s hard keeping up with my thoughts. I just know I’m scared and enjoying myself at the same time, and it’s an overwhelming combination. I want to do the right thing for… you, for us.” Us, like they were already bound together. They were. For forty years, they were within reach, just separated by a chain link fence, where they could touch fingertips but the gate was locked. The lock was broken with Gin and Sousuke’s absence, and they could embrace freely, but the electricity between them, all the history, was too much to simply dive into.

“Let’s get you home. Ma’am, we’d like our check now, please.”

“I-I’m so sorry. It’s not you. I’m just new to all of this, Kira-kun.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Izuru picked her up by her elbow, handed over a handful of coins to the waitress for their meal, and when they came onto the street, Momo breathed fresh air. It made her eyes sting a little, but it was a relief to be away from the warm lights and her swarm of ponderences. The air was cold and his hand was cold. The cool air burned but it was better than those foreign walls. And when they walked, Izuru walked close, like she was coddled in a blanket of him.

“I understand this night wasn’t perfect,” Izuru said as they came to a stop in front of her barracks, “but I enjoyed myself. Immensely. I want to do this again soon, later this week soon. Can I bring you coffee and lunch tomorrow afternoon?”

The followup scared Momo. Would she always feel like she was squeezed like a balloon when they were together? Could she withstand the pressure? Was she ready? Izuru was. Even without the pulse in his neck, Momo knew he wasn’t nervous. They weren’t in the same stage of the relationship. Izuru was always three steps ahead of her.

“Do you love me? Can you love me?” Momo asked.

“There’s no can. I have loved you for decades. Even though I remember my life before I joined the Gotei, I don’t remember when I didn’t love you.”

Love scared Momo. But Izuru held her so fragilely, like her skin was porcelain, he adored her unceasingly for decades. Love terrified her, life terrified her, but Shinji and Rose told her nothing came from complacency. Nothing came from nothing. Momo risked her wellbeing in the past, what was the worst that could happen? Another flop because he didn’t adore her?

“Noon tomorrow. Come to my barracks, I’ll have lunch ready there. Do you like coffee?” Momo replied.

“I’ll take care of the coffee,” Izuru told her.

Momo smiled. She kissed Izuru’s cheek and said, “I’ll see you then.”

“Goodnight, Hinamori.”

Finally inside her barracks, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was a confusing, scary, nice, and yet it was nice. She would see how his visit over would fare.

---

Gobantai’s break room was well-used and therefore a royal mess since it wasn’t one of Momo’s many projects. She wiped down every surface, disposed of the trash behind the administration office, washed the windows, beat out the rug and the curtains, cleaned the sinks and communal pots, and mopped the floor that morning. She decided it was one of those chores she had to delegate in the future. Perhaps officers from other divisions who needed disciplinary action could be loaned to gobantai and deep clean her division.

Unfortunately, Momo’s work also piled up while she cleaned. She stared at her haphazard piles scattered across her desk from careless subordinates. As efficient as she was, Momo was certain she would have more overtime than usual since there wasn’t nearly enough time to finish it all before her lunch date.

Izuru met her at the door to the breakroom when noon rolled around. He carried a tin of gourmet coffee in his black hand.

“Hello, Hinamori.” He bent over her and kissed her cheek. Momo giggled girlishly.

“Hello there. Right this way,” she said as she motioned inside. “I made miso soup, fish fillets, and veggies. I didn’t know how much you wanted so… I made too much.” Which was fucking silly of her. He didn’t need sustenance, Momo scolded herself.

“I brought some coffee. This was my mother’s favorite, I wanted you to try it.”

Momo chose to ignore the sentimentality behind his statement. It was too soon for something so heartfelt, especially when his parents were dead. “Wow. This looks so… expensive.” The tin was a vibrant cherry red. There was a diamond on one face with the brand’s name in a sleek, sophisticated font. As scary as the sentimentality was, part of her was touched he wanted to share something so luxurious with her. “I’ll put this on the stovetop now. You’re welcome to eat.”

“I… wanted to give these to you first.” Izuru presented Momo with a bouquet of myrtles. “One of my officers is married to one of your officers. She told me there weren’t any real decorations in here, and I remembered you liked flowers, so I decided these were a good idea, I guess.”

“These are beautiful, Kira…. Thank you.” Momo adored flowers. They were the topic of her every drawing. It scared her how well he knew her, and how she actually liked the attention and the gifts. But his shower of gifts made Momo’s lungs tight like she drowned in them. If she wanted it, them, to work, she needed to trust his attention wasn’t a distraction from his ugly side. Trusting was so hard.

Momo methodically placed the bouquet into a pitcher with water and put it on one of the tables in the middle of the room. It melted lifelessly into the white walls and brown tables, like it had been there forever. It terminated her torrent of nervous thoughts with its natural aura.

“I apologize if it’s… unclean in here. I’m not in this room often so I don’t oversee much of the cleaning,” said Momo as she sat across from Izuru.

“If there’s any mess, I haven’t noticed.”

She popped open their lunch canisters and slid one half over to Izuru. “I wanted to make something easy on your stomach. I don’t know what heavy foods do to you.”

“Decadence is below me. I had my fill as a boy.”

“As nobility, you mean?”

“Well… yes. I was an only child of very wealthy merchants, I’m sure you know. They pretty well spoiled me.”

“Merchants?” Momo asked, “I thought you were… regular nobility. Born into superior blood, all that.”

“I was. My father was Kagekiyo Kira. He was an entrepreneur who saved his money farming and bought the silk farm which employed him once the master passed away. My mother’s father hemorrhaged money from his family, so they decided they could keep their lifestyle if my mother married rich, so they arranged their marriage.”

“I was unaware.”

“Of course. The only other people I’ve told are Shuuhei and Rose. I try not to flaunt my elevated status.”

Momo laughed. “You had no problem flaunting your intellect as a cadet. But your bragging was well-deserved there. You were one of the most brilliant cadets in Shinou.” He was the prettiest, too. Was he as pretty as his mother? Momo wanted to pry into his family, but his parents’ deaths was another sore spot, like patches of leprosy. “Did you lose the farm after your parents expired?”

“No. I still profit from it, although I have very little to do with the business now. I only attend to a few things. Quarterly inspections to make sure everything runs efficiently, occasionally scolding foremen when the situation calls for it.”

“What situation would call for your involvement?”

“A foremen or business partner behaving inappropriately with one of our women workers, disease outbreak among our silkworms.”

“I assume it’s… unpleasant.”

Izuru shrugged. “It’s frivolous when I compare it to our wartime experience.”

“Did the Great War do a number on your farm?”

“Due to evacuation protocols, our employees couldn’t work, and our consumers couldn’t buy. Our silkworms were surprisingly untouched. A few died of starvation, but most of them were fine. We’re recovering at a phenomenal pace thanks to an investor’s daughter finally marrying. Our textile company is supplying the marital outfits as well fabric for bedding, furniture, and baby clothes. It was an order which cost more than two million yen.”

Momo choked on her coffee. “How fucking much?”

“I told you it was a huge order,” Izuru laughed. “Of course, I decided to reinvest that money into the business. Equipment, facilities, payroll, et cetera. It’s not like I need any of it.”

“I had no idea. That must have been difficult.”

“I don’t know. There were other things on my mind. After losing friends and my arm, it all just blurred together. The simplest decisions were easiest to conjure and execute. I’m just glad they worked for the better. Losing our farm would’ve been detrimental to the Rukongai’s economy.”

Momo knew all about the poverty in the Rukongai. The best-off were the nobles, of course. But regular souls like herself grew up in two or one-room huts or row houses in less than enviable conditions, and the only reason they could afford homes and food was thanks to employment from nobility. As sleezy as the noble families were, they were integral to the survival of many souls. Izuru had half the brain to acknowledge that at least.

Izuru cleared his throat. “Enough about myself. I’m no businessman…. H-how’re you?”

“That’s quite a loaded question,” Momo remarked. Never okay. She always choked, always overthought, always misty-eyed. She needed out of her head because her hands were sharpened swords. Momo could grow flowers on paper or bleed herself like a pig. Momo could clean the entire barracks in a single evening or bludgeon herself with a meat tenderizer. It all depended on the day.

“I apologize. Do… you have any news with your hobbies?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“You draw, yes?”

“I do. I use chalk and charcoal to draw flowers and wildlife. Occasionally, I’m commissioned for larger pieces. I haven’t had any customers as of late.” She hadn’t bothered to accept orders in two years, however. It was… all too much for her.

“I haven’t seen any of your artwork, come to think of it.”

“I haven’t shown you any. I used to be very private about my drawings.” Everyone knew Momo was a traitor’s whore, though. Art critics were the least of Momo’s worries. “I’ll show you my sketchbook if you like, though. I have one in my desk I use while I wait for our meetings.”

“Let’s finish lunch first. I’d hate for this to go to waste.”

“Alright,” she agreed. Momo was too proud to admit she speedily finished so she could show off her drawings. She was eager for Izuru’s attention, eager for his praise. He helped her rinse their dishes and pile them into the satchel she carried them in. Momo guided Izuru to her office where she opened her desk and passed him a small, leather bound sketchbook.

“You’re welcome to peruse to your heart’s content,” she told him.

“These are gorgeous,” Izuru complimented. “Your use of color is breathtaking. I feel like they’re glowing.”

Momo’s ears warmed. She covered her mouth with her sleeve to hide her smile. “You think?” Izuru’s validation was intoxicating only two days into their relationship. Would she stumble like a drunkard if she stood next to him? “I just tried to exaggerate the color. Make it richer.”

“Well, you’ve done well. Can I see more of your sketchbooks sometime?”

“Yes. I would like that very much. A-are you free tomorrow evening?”

“Well, if you want to come for a drink with myself, Shuuhei, and Rangiku, you’re welcome to. This weekend would be easier for a private gathering.”

“Friday night, then?”

“I will see you Friday.” Izuru closed her sketchbook and bent over for a kiss. His cold, stiff thumb pet her cheek, like she was priceless and precious. She pressed herself into the curve of his chest and held his clothes in weak fists. It felt like the were light as butterflies, like when she opened her eyes, they’d be suspended by ribbon, puppets of pheromones and loneliness. Momo didn’t want to let go.

He slowly pulled away. Momo’s feet were firmly on the floor. Izuru’s eyes were partially lidded and a beautiful cobalt color. Breathtaking, like the ocean.

“Goodbye, Hinamori,” he said quietly.

“It’s Momo. Just Momo.”

“Okay. Goodbye, Momo.”

“I’ll see you Friday, Izuru.”

Izuru left her office. With every step, Momo felt hollow. He took a piece of her heart with him like the last one. She knew, she just knew, Izuru would put another scar on her heart like Sousuke did. Her scars already ached.

---

Momo tried to talk herself out of her paranoia. Momo knew Izuru for almost fifty years. She shouldn't question his intentions, she shouldn't have to. Izuru was always a friend, even when they were distant and hurting.

She couldn't keep her fears at bay. Eventually, Momo found Rangiku stashed in the corner of a cramped archive office in juubantai with a platoon of sake bottles.

"Miserable, are we?" Momo enquired.

"Yes and no." Rangiku slid Momo a drink. "Have some. You don't look much better."

Momo didn't drink. Alcohol touched her lips maybe once every few months, when she and Rangiku grieved together. She supposed she only drank with Rangiku.

"I think I'm in love with another man," Momo began.

"Izuru Kira?"

"Yes. Who told you?"

"He talks about you a lot." Rangiku lolled into Momo's lap. "Safe to say head over heels. Gets all smiley and talks fast and shit."

"I know…. I keep telling myself he's not Sousuke, but he's so perfect, Rangiku. Just like Sousuke was in the beginning. I feel like I'm freefalling into another trap. I'm fucking petrified."

"I see why. But you gotta take a risk, Momo."

Momo snort. "His captain said the same thing. I took a risk with Sousuke though, and look where that put me." Momo scratched her scar. "I don't know…. He compliments me and my brains drip out my ears. I'm still so juvenile when it comes to romance."

"No," Rangiku disagreed. "You didn't take a risk with Aizen. You were an innocent woman at the time. He took advantage of your trust and your love. There's a difference between him and Izuru."

"How do you know though?"

"What kind of gifts did Aizen give you?"

"Flowers."

"And what about Izuru?"

"Flowers and… and coffee. Expensive coffee. We drank it together, even though he doesn't like coffee. Sousuke never wanted it in the house. He complimented my drawings too. Sousuke never liked them. Izuru reminds me to eat too, and he asks me about my day,” Momo replied. Sousuke's eyes never smiled. Even in death, when Izuru kissed her, he looked so happy.

Momo wiped her eyes. "Why is this so hard?"

"Oh, sweetie, it's not your fault. I wasn't mad at you. I'm never mad at you. I just wanted to show you he's different." Rangiku coiled around Momo. "You're my best friend. I want you at my wedding and I want you to have someone to be so happy with it makes your head spin so I can go to your wedding too."

"I know. Sousuke left his mark all over me. Izuru deserves someone who can cope with their own feelings."

"Like he's any better. You two will make it work though. You're so sweet and he's so loving."

"But I turned my sword on him, Rangiku,” Momo wept. “He was protecting Ichimaru when Sousuke had that corpse doll on the wall. I ignored him for a man who tried to kill us all and now I'm punishing him with my own trauma."

"No you're not. He loves you, Momo.”

“So? He deserves someone more reasonable, someone who can tell when they’re projecting the past onto the present.”

“He’s got his own problems. He hates himself too. Gin left scars on Izuru too. What’s important is that you two love each other and help each other through these episodes,” said Rangiku, surprisingly coherent for someone who drank her way through at least a dozen liters of sake. “I know it’s hard. You don’t think it’s hard with me and Nanao? That I’m scared she’ll abandon me too like Gin? People like us deserve love, and we’ll get it, but we get the journey with it. You and Izuru are no exception.”

Momo buried her soggy, congested face in Rangiku’s shoulder, and she squeezed Rangiku as hard as she could. “I’m sorry for all this. I’m a disaster.”

“It happens to the best of us. Look at me, drinking my pain away.” Sterilizing Gin’s desertion with intemperance, exactly like Momo drowned herself in busywork. Something that kept grief at bay.

“Can I stay a little longer?” Momo asked.

“Of course.” Rangiku gave her another glass. “Drink with me, sweetie. Just exist for awhile.”

---

Momo woke up Rangiku’s couch with an enormous headache. Thankfully, Rangiku’s barracks were dark thanks to the thick curtains installed over the eastern windows, even though it was almost ten in the morning. Momo found her way to the bathroom, hesitantly pilfered the medicine cabinet for pain killers, and washed her sticky mouth with tap water. They drank too much whenever they were together.

She made her way to the kitchen to prepare Rangiku something to eat and a thank-you note. Her stomach was too feeble for anything but Rangiku was rarely hungover.

It was almost lunchtime when Momo walked into her office with another formidable pile she neglected thanks to her hangover. She was about to sit when she noticed Shinji laid across one of her sofas.

“Someone’s late,” he commented.

“I apologize, Captain. I was irresponsible last night. I’ll be more careful.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Shinji waved dismissively, “I’m more curious why. Does that Kira have something to do with it?”

“No, I was catching up with Rangiku-san.” Momo lied infrequently, but she was ashamed of her behavior over the last twelve or so hours. “I supposed we touched on myself and Izuru, but it wasn’t anything bad.”

“Izuru? What happened to the formalities?” Shinji sat up, folded his legs, and watched Momo with a coy smile. “Things going good for you two?”

Momo should’ve known there was no use to hide from Shinji. She was a terrible liar to begin with. “Yes. It’s… weird, sometimes, after having been Sousuke’s possession, but we mesh together well. I missed him. I missed feeling in love.”

“I’m more surprised you two got together. Rose tells me Kira’s been pining forever.”

“Sousuke Aizen swept me off my feet before Izuru could even consider romancing me.”

“So you won?”

“Won? I don’t understand. What did I win?” Momo asked.

“You told me Sousuke wanted to destroy you. To break you down, turn you into mincemeat. To need him so much you would die without him. Look where you are now: you got a man who loves you lots. You’re still alive after two attempts on your life. I think that counts as a win.”

She smiled. “I never saw it like that. Thank you, Shinji.”

“Anything for my baby girl,” he said with a wink. “I’ll catch you around. Take care, Momo.”

“Thank you. I will.”

---

Friday came with ease. Momo's days weren't by any means sluggish, but they weren't a blur either. It felt healthier than when time passed during her dissociative survival episodes.

She was undeniably nervous for reasons unknown as she approached Izuru's barracks. Momo told herself she was just the nervous sort. She was grateful it didn't show when she knocked on his door. Izuru opened his home with a smile.

"Good evening, Izuru. I brought some cooking supplies to fry up takoyaki."

"Come in. Thank you, I look forward to them."

Izuru's barracks were spartan. There was a grey couch, and grey curtains, and a square wooden table with square wooden chairs. There weren't any decorations. The only piece of humanity were his many nonfiction books in many bookshelves. Law, philosophy, medicine, language, history, zoology; Izuru was more scholarly than Momo realized. His brilliance only seemed more phenomenal. Although, Momo supposed his nights were filled with reading if he couldn't sleep.

"Did you want anything to drink, Momo?" Izuru asked.

Momo deposited her carry-on onto the counter. "Just water. Where are your pans?"

Izuru reached into a tall shelf and presented a large pan with tall sides. "Will this do?"

"Yes. Thank you." Momo put it on the stovetop. "I never realized how well-read you are."

"I feel like I'm wasting time when I read fiction. Novels aren't as easily dissected as poetry, so the theme isn't as clear, or as artful. Poetry speaks to the soul in a shorter and more poignant form."

She laughed. "I was talking about everything but your poetry books."

"Oh..." Izuru replied bashfully. "These books actually belonged to my father. He grew up very poor. When he had access to knowledge, he went overboard with it. But he shared the knowledge with me. I read them now. I feel like I'm closer to him and my mother when I read these books."

"You must've been close to your parents," said Momo.

"I adored them. My mother Shizuka was kind and wise, my father Kagekiyo was ambitious and devout. He told me the reason he wanted to buy the farm was so he could raise a family comfortably. They always found time for me. I remember playing with a ball in the garden. My mother taught me a lot about kidou too."

"That explains your advantage in the academy."

"I was certainly privileged." Izuru pulled an onion out of Momo's reach. "How finely do you need this cut?"

"No bigger than half the size of your pinky finger's nail. We'll only need half the onion to go with the breading, though."

Izuru swiftly halved the onion. "You don't talk much about your own family," he said. "I know your brother is Hitsugaya. Is he all the family you have?"

"No. We lived together with our grandmother before we came here. She’s a kindly woman. She's a maid for the Oumaeda family." Momo hadn't visited her grandmother in some time though. She was too ashamed that she attacked her brother to ever face her family and expect anything more than cold shoulders. She was too ashamed that she was brainwashed by a villain like Sousuke Aizen and gave everything to a man who just discarded her. "Unfortunately, my grandmother was unable to teach me like your parents could. Everything I learned in the Rukongai, I learned on my own."

"Momo, for someone self-taught, you are truly impressive. Your use of kidou is revolutionary. Your intrinsic power is sublime. I hope you don't think lowly of yourself because of something so silly."

"I don't. I suppose I'm just jaded because of the stigma against the common folk."

"The Seireitei is classist. There's no arguing that. I've always admired your innovation, however. You make kidou something mystical again."

Momo smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Well, thank you. I never saw it that way."

"Is it true you've invented your own kidou?" Izuru asked. "I heard a rumor from one of my officers who saw you fight during the Great War."

"It is. I have a number of spells I've created."

"I'd very much like to hear about them."

"Shizumu Hebi is my personal favorite. I create these snake-like ropes that slide across the ground and restrains anyone who steps on it. At first, it's nothing to worry about, especially in an open area. What makes them really deadly is when they begin multiplying every half minute. There's no limit to their growth until I cancel the spell, and even if my enemy is already captured, more can constrict them. It's actually how I killed a Jagdarmee. They suffocated from the tightness of my Shizumu Hebi."

"That is a formidable spell. That can't be all, though."

"It's not. I have a spell I call Ryuuzetsu that turns my saliva into a flammable liquid when I spit into water. I came up with it on the spot during the Great War and had access to a puddle. There's also Kijo Yubi, which makes my skin oil acidic. Kanbousu is a subzero kidou web that can peel off limbs or cause frostbite within minutes. Neneki Himo is a green goo that I have a number of uses for, namely support or defense. It's especially effective capturing melee weapons since it's so sticky. My most recent creation is Shinkirou. Sousuke Aizen and Shinji Hirako inspired it. It's a mirage that uses water particles in the air to bend light. When I tested it on myself, my environment refracted like a kaleidoscope. I need more time to tweak it, however. I can't find a way to exclude my allies from its effects."

"Momo, they're incredible. Your creativity is awe-inspiring."

"You know, flattery gets you nothing," Momo said with a teasing bump of her shoulder to his side.

"Not even a kiss?"

"Of course not." Momo puckered her lips and Izuru pecked her playfully.

"These should be done frying though." Momo dumped their takoyaki onto a plate lined with a fresh washcloth to absorb the extra oil. "They need to cool for awhile."

"Care to have a seat?"

"Sure thing."

“Oh, by the way, did Rangiku tell you she’s ring shopping for Ise-san?”

"She didn't...." Although, the last time Momo saw Rangiku was when they were drunk and miserable, when Momo thought it was more important to imagine bitterness in her and Izuru's hearts than check into her friends' personal lives. Nanao and Rangiku were her best friends. Momo wasn't nearly as good of a friend to them if she wasn’t up to speed with their wedding plans. "Has she chosen one?"

"Yes. I'd ask to see it after the ceremony, though. I imagine it’s meant to be seen with Nanao."

"Rangiku does have a soft spot for ceremony, doesn’t she?”

"Speaking of romance, have you heard from your brother?"

"No... what does he have to do with romance?"

"Rangiku tells me he has a girlfriend in the World of the Living. One of the Kurosaki girls, the one who can see us."

Momo frowned. "I didn't even know Kurosaki had siblings." If she wasn't comatose, she lived in solitude, away from current events, away from even her family. Toushirou ought to hate her and he had every right. Momo turned her sword on him, Momo hadn't spoken to him since their battle against Sousuke Aizen, she hadn't even visited him. She was a terrible friend, a terrible sister, and a terrible granddaughter.

"I'm sorry," Izuru said as he wiped her tears away with his thumbs. "I shouldn't gossip.... I think Hitsugaya should've told you himself, but he obviously hasn't reintegrated himself into your life."

Momo argued, "it's not his fault, Izuru. I left him. I attacked him. He's just a boy, he doesn't know how to cope with this."

"If you say so. I'm just livid whenever I think about it. I love you so much. I just want you to be deliriously happy, especially knowing how important your loved ones are to you."

Momo smiled and curled her legs to her chest. “If you don’t mind me prying, why did you join the Gotei? I know it’s a status symbol for most nobility, but you’ve never looked down your nose at anyone.”

“I wanted to get away from the family business so I took on other responsibilities here. I think my parents would have been disappointed, but….”

“We all have to leave the nest sometime. Your parents loved you more than anything, Izuru, I can tell. Even if they disagreed with your decision, I’m sure they would’ve loved you all the same and found a suitable heir to the business elsewhere.” Momo pushed his bangs behind one of his ears. “I want to think it’s for the better. I wouldn’t have met you if you hadn’t joined.” A selfish advantage on Momo’s part, but she was a selfish person.

“You’re right,” Izuru said after he kissed her cheek. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Momo. I’m glad I got to fall in love with you.”

She adoringly smiled at Izuru. He loved her so, and she loved to hear it, so she pressed a kiss to his lips. Izuru kissed her back. He pulled her closer by the back of her neck. Momo felt experimentive. She traced his lips with her tongue, Izuru happily pulled it behind his teeth. Sousuke Aizen was always so detached.... They never made out. He always just turned her over and did as he pleased.

But Izuru laid on his back. He pressed kisses across her jaw and her neck. Momo's cheeks were warm like her loins. He squeezed her breasts. She itched for his skin to scratch her, an itch she didn't realize until he touched her like an adult with fucking needs.

"Here," Momo sat up and eagerly untied her obi. "Undress me, Izuru."

His blue eyes bugged out of their sockets. Were he alive, she was certain his breath would have been ragged from arousal. His hakama bulged instead. He was aroused by her brazen order instead of her pain. It intoxicated Momo.

Izuru grabbed her open top and slowly slipped it down her arms to savor every piece of skin he uncovered. "God," he rasped, "you are gorgeous, Momo, every bit of you."

He kissed the top of her breasts, made way to her cleavage, and worked down to the underside of her breasts. She held fast to the clothes on his back because he was already so sexy and it was so long since anyone touched her so reverently and needily. When he kissed one of her nipples, Momo ground her hips against his. His erection wasn't warm but it was hard and strained against his hakama for freedom.

"I want to eat your pussy, Momo," he whispered against the shell of her ear. "Can I eat your pussy?"

Her brain must have fallen into her crotch because Momo couldn't conjure a verbal yes, only a loud moan and a fervent nod.

Izuru slipped off the couch, kneeled in front of her, and slipped off her hakama. Momo never wore underwear. They were too hot beneath her clothes. Momo guessed Izuru took delight in that by the way he licked his chops. He spread her legs, kissed the inside of her thigh, and kissed up into her groin. His broad tongue tasted her. Momo instinctively covered her mouth and Izuru pried it off. He pinned her hands to her sides and lapped at her moistened lips.

"Sweet god," Momo whined, "you're amazing. This is amazing."

Izuru pulled Momo's legs onto his shoulders. He followed her valleys and peaks with the tip of his tongue, and then he grazed over her clitoris. She gasped, her legs spasmed and closed around his head. He pulled her closer by her rear and enthusiastically writhed against it. "Fuck," Momo cursed. "Oh god, Izuru, fuck me."

Izuru stumbled back. "What?" he said.

"Fuck me," Momo pleaded as she pulled at his belt. "Please, I've never done anything that's felt so good. Please fuck me."

Izuru ripped off his obi, pushed Momo onto her back, and wrapped her legs around his hips.

"Just like that," Momo coaxed his cock's pink head into her, "treat me sweetly like you always do."

He wordlessly slipped inside of her. Momo's eyes fluttered shut. It was so much better when she was wet and needy like a cat in heat. Sousuke never treated her so well. He never pumped her slowly, never thumbed her clitoris for that extra euphoria. "Harder, Izuru, fuck me harder," Momo demanded. He scratched that itch so well and she wanted it more.

Izuru pound into her, the couch they fucked on rocked loudly, like music to her ears, her breasts bounced, Momo’s nails dug into his shoulders, he grunted rhythmically. Momo felt a kind pressure build inside her. It was so fast. Her everything from her chest down spasmed as she moaned. Momo had never orgasmed before but it felt like magic. “Yes. Fuck, yes,” she muttered gutteraly.

His constant piston finally became sloppy. Izuru’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as he orgasmed. His strength finally left him and he toppled on top of Momo.

For a minute, he only breathed. “Sweet mother of god, that was amazing,” he wheezed.

“It was fantastic,” Momo sighed contently. “I never… I never thought I’d actually enjoy it. But you are a stallion.”

Izuru kissed her. She tasted her cum on his lips. “It’s easy with you. You’re so beautiful. You’re classy when you’re like this too.”

Momo smiled. "Thank you."

He slipped off his kosode and draped it around Momo. "I'm sorry your takoyaki went cold. I can reheat them if you like."

"It's okay. I just want to lay with you."

“Okay.” Izuru guided her to his bedroom where he swaddled Momo in his arms. When she breathed, and smelled his medicine and linen, she found peace in what was once a cage.

---

Momo was decades older than what she looked, and as old as she was, the passage of time was always something weird. It crawled like molasses when she was younger. It was altogether surreal when she was depressed. When she was happy, it was a smudge, like she accidentally brushed her hand over one of her charcoal drawings before she sealed it.

Izuru perused her larger sketchbook and admired her flowers and birds. "Beautiful," he complimented. When he stumbled across a drawing she made of him, he smiled bashfully. "I suppose I have to acclimate to being a muse for another artist."

“You will. I plan to draw you every minute I can,” Momo said.

Izuru was found with her by Shinji or Rose every day around lunch or shift change. "My, you two are closer every day. One day we'll find you fused at the hip," Rose commented each time, and Momo always stroked Izuru's arm because it wouldn't have been so bad to be with him every minute of her life.

His uniforms began to turn up in her laundry. Momo cleared a drawer for his clothes in her barracks. She lost her charcoal in Izuru's home a handful of times so he bought an easel with a drawer. Somehow, they even swapped kitchenware. Momo's assortment of gaudy mixing bowls tumbled onto the floor when she looked for a bread pan in Izuru's home. Izuru's cups amassed at the foot of Momo's mug collection.

Momo missed the domesticity. When their homes felt like one, she never before felt so whole, even if it meant more cleaning she had to do.

Beneath where her uniform was piled in his closet, she found an open chest with a young, alabaster-skinned woman who wore a latex mask printed on a glossy page. Her heart fell into her gut and she burst into tears. She tore the chest from the closet and stormed into the common’s where Izuru nurtured another glass of wine.

She dropped the chest on the table. Her nostrils flared. “What the hell is this?”

Izuru normally has a passive if not mildly inconvenienced expression. His eyes were as wide as saucers then.

“Who the fuck are these girls?”

“It’s pornography. Th-they’re like actresses, but instead of performing for movies or plays, they're hired to act out sexual situations and then are photographed.”

Momo's blood boiled. Her chest burned. “Why do you have these? Aren’t I enough?” Was she ever enough?

"Of course you are." Izuru flew to his feet and held her by her arms. "Momo, I know this looks terrible, but I like certain things sexually that I know you're not comfortable with. I-I take care of my own urges so I don't subject you to them in the heat of the moment."

Momo shook her head. She reeled out of Izuru's hold. He lied. "You're lying. I'm not enough for you. You're exactly like Sousuke. I'm just a thing to rub one out in and clean your fucking house." She pushed her hair out of bed face. "I should've fucking known. I’ll never have anything good."

"Momo, that's not true. I love you. I-I know this is terrible, but it's cathartic for me to put myself in these situations---"

"Where girls are just things? Where you can slap them around? Fucking spank them like kids?" Of course Izuru groomed her to fit his fantasies. Sousuke played the long game, a couple years for Izuru to wait for her availability would've been nothing. Why her? Why was she always the object of people's malignance? How long would he have waited to shove her onto the floor with a bag over her head and sodomize her like the girls in his magazines? "Did you think I'd let you get away with this, Izuru? Did you really think I'd just let it slide?"

"Of course, that's why I kept it. You mean everything to me. This stuff is just recreational. There’s no emotional attachment."

Izuru was heartless and she was the fool between them to have let herself grow complacent with another man. They were all the same: they groomed her to be a domestic pet. The monsters were always so nice in the beginning. It was only easier for Izuru since Sousuke did all the work for him, forty years worth.

"You must think I'm stupid." Momo jabbed her finger against his chest. "Did you really think I'd be okay with this depiction of… of slavery? I'm no different than these girls to you! And you're no different than Sousuke. You know, you’re right. I'm so fucking stupid to have ever believed you were any different."

"God, Momo, you're acting like I fucking raped you. I'm not your fucking punching bag."

"This isn't my fucking fault!" Momo screamed. "Don't you pin this on me. I've never been enough for you. You’re selfish and twisted. It was only a matter of time before you wanted me to play like these girls. Fuck you, Izuru!"

Izuru rumbled like a volcano, "can you stop making me into the fucking bad guy? I love you! Something happens that you don't like, and you got to meltdown and you make some poor sod look like an evil bastard. I put up with it because you show progress everyday, but you can't treat me like a fucking fiend."

"This isn't my fault. You are a fucking fiend, apparently, with your sick bullshit. You people always treat me like a fucking blow up doll."

"You're a belligerent fucking martyr!" Izuru loomed over her with fiery eyes. "I love you so much but I will not let you treat me like a doormat!"

"You people are just evil! I am a plaything to you, and I'm a fool to have ever thought otherwise!"

Izuru slapped a vase off an end table. It flew across the room and crashed against the opposite wall. Her vision turned red, red like the blood on her teeth after Sousuke hit her, red like her hands when she picked up broken mugs. Momo shrieked in undilated horror. She scrambled for the door, bleary from her tears, and screamed for help, but the door wouldn't budge. Izuru's detestable black arm curled around her shoulder to pull her away from freedom.

"Shizumu Hebi!" Momo's kidou fell out of her pant leg and apprehended Izuru. She slammed her body against the rice paper door, fell into the porch, and ran for her fucking life.

Momo cowered in a dark, crowded closet somewhere in gobantai. She wasn't sure where else to go. Izuru would look for her at her house. She couldn't stay with Shinij or Nanao, they were too close to Izuru's friends Rose and Rangiku. She hadn't spoken to Shuuhei or Renji in some time, and she was certain Toushirou would've been no different. Izuru was like Sousuke: omnipresent even in his absence.

Izuru and Sousuke were one in the same and Momo hadn't changed one bit.

---

Morning came too soon. Momo only knew because she heard footsteps outside her nook.

She brought herself to her feet. Her throat was dry and she didn't bother to smooth her hair. She had a walk of shame to do, it wasn't her first. Momo saw their eyes in her peripheral. Her scar burned as they stared.

Momo took a seat at her desk and sighed at the stack of paperwork on her desk. It seemed like a mountain, a mountain to bury herself and her pain in like a tomb.

Sometime later, a knock came from Momo’s door. Kokona Honda, a beautiful young woman with blonde hair and dark skin, and a capable officer just a few seats below Momo, entered and placed a manila folder on the corner of her desk.

“Good morning. Here are the reports from the nightguard last night. How about some coffee--- holy shit, are you okay?”

“Yes. Bring me some coffee, if possible. Let everyone know all communications to me are to go through you first. Refill my water for my inkstone too.”

“Yes, Lieutenant…. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

Momo watched Kokona leave her office. Her fingers combed through her messy hair and returned to her paperwork. Momo worked herself into a familiar routine, just like her routine with Sousuke in charge. There was some comfort she found in that. Momo knew how to cope with dread.

Shinji was never punctual, not like her or Kokona. He was just on time according to his internal clock, but he took a detour from his ordinary route.

“Momo, I’m coming in,” he said. Momo cussed under her breath. "You two were noisy last night from what I heard."

"It's already made its rounds?" Momo asked hoarsely. No. Kokona told him, that fucking gossipmonger. All she really wanted for the time being was to be left alone.

Shinji placed a bottle of iced tea on her desk. “Drink. You sound like shit, and once you finish that, we can talk about what happened.”

Momo shook her head. She refused to drink. "Why does this always happen to me?" she asked. There was no point in hiding it from Shinji. "I'm never enough. My personality is bland, my sex is subpar, my food must be awful."

"Momo, drink," Shinji coaxed her. "Please drink for me."

For Shinji, she swallowed mouthfuls of tea until his bottle was empty. Her throat was sticky from the sugar.

"What makes you think you're not enough, Momo? You guys seemed to be doing just fine before."

Momo's eyes squeezed shut as she cried anew. "I found BDSM pornography stashed in his closet when I was folding laundry. Girls were tied up and smacked around a-and I lost it. We got into a screaming match. Izuru got so mad he hit a vase off a table a-and I got so scared that I ran and hid here all night."

"Oh, Momo," Shinji cooed, "I'm so sorry. You should’ve came to me."

"I couldn’t, your husband would’ve been so mad. I feel so stupid. I should've seen this coming. I should've known I don't get good men."

Shinji pet her hair. "Take the day off. I'll take care of things here. You need to get some rest."

"I don't want to go home," Momo croaked.

"Then you can sleep here. I'll turn off some of the lights, bring my work in here, but I won't leave you alone."

She nodded. "Okay." She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I'm sorry."

“It’s all okay, sweetie, just take it easy for a bit. Why don’t we do something together to get your mind off this. Let’s go watch a game. Kyuubantai’s rugby team is playing against juusanbantai tonight.”

“I never pegged you as a jock,” she replied. “I’d like to go though.”

“Well, Kensei is playing and I’d like to support him.”

"Okay. I'll be there."

"I'm glad, Momo. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime."

Momo nodded, albeit physically and emotionally exhausted. She had allies and that was all that mattered. The men she loved were questionable at best, but she was never alone so long as she had her captain.

---

Momo walked alone to the rugby game with hot coco in her hands. It wasn't a cold evening, but she preferred something warm in her when she was upset. She needed it. If Shuuhei's captain played rugby, Shuuhei was sure to be there, and by extension Izuru too since those two did almost everything together.

Shinji met her at the gate with a vest over his colorful kimono. "Hey, darlin', don't look so down! We're here to have fun."

"Okay," Momo nodded. Shinji swept an arm over her shoulders and led her onto the bleachers where Lisa sat with bleacher chairs.

"Hello again, Hinamori," Lisa greeted. "I wasn't aware you drank."

"Hello, Yadomaru-taichou. I don't drink alcohol often. This is hot coco," Momo replied.

"Oh, nice. Have you ever tried it with hazelnut creamer? It's really good."

"No, but I'll keep it in mind for next time."

Suddenly, a whistle went off and each team ran after a pigskin ball. Momo wasn't the sporty sort. She frequently lost the ball and she couldn't make out what the exchanges between the opposite team members were. It looked more like a fistfight than sports. Eventually, she became bored and instead absently scratched her hot coco. She felt Izuru on the other side of the bleacher's, however, his reiatsu was as faint as death. Had he seen her? Did he look for her?

Momo glanced up to check. She could feel his cold eyes upon her like a film of sweat. He was there and she wanted to leave very much. The wound felt like a broken vase, brittle, sharp, raw. It hurt to even be near Izuru.

"I just remembered I have a package I need to pick up," Momo said quietly. She escaped before Shinji could protest. As soon as Momo reached the backside of the bleachers, she burst into tears. She briskly walked in the general direction of her barracks.

"Momo, wait,"

Izuru stood behind her with Shuuhei yards away, and Momo cried out in fright. "God, what the hell are you doing?" she barked.

Shuuhei came to a stop next to Izuru. "I told you she doesn’t want to see you."

"I don't!" Momo spat. "What the fuck do you want with me, Izuru? Come to justify yourself like Sousuke? I've had enough of your guys' speeches."

"Okay, now that's just low, Hinamori." Shuuhei groaned with his head in his hands. "If you two wanna duke it out, we can take it somewhere private. We’re lieutenants. We can’t just cause a scene."

"I'm not here to fight," Izuru complained indignantly. He took a step forward. Momo took a step back. "I… I just want to talk about the other day, Momo."

"I think we know each other's stances on that subject. I'm not your fucking blow up doll."

"You're not. I'd never make you into something cheap and two dimensional. You're like your flowers. You're full of vibrance and beauty."

"Izuru, you threw a fucking vase at me!"

"This is a private fucking matter!" Shuuhei took them both by the crook of their arms and guided them into the equipment room nearby.

"You threw a vase at me!" Momo resumed only seconds after they were thrown into the equipment room. "You were so mad you threw a heavy vase at me so fucking hard it shattered. It scratched my wall and my floor."

"I'll fix them myself."

"I don't want them fixed. I want to stay the hell away from me. I'm not going to be wrapping my ribs again because you get fired up about your porn."

"I'm willing to give it up, Momo. I'd do anything for you."

Momo stilled. "Really?"

"Yes, of course." Izuru held Momo by her upper arms and pet her arms with his thumbs. "I love you so much."

She was conflicted how to respond. On one hand, Momo wanted to trust Izuru. Rangiku and Rose told her to take the plunge. On the other hand, how many times would she have to plunge? How many times would she have to compromise? What abyss would she sink deeper in with each plunge of faith? On the other hand, Izuru loved her. Even without his reiatsu, she could see his adoration in his angel blue eyes. Momo hungered for that adoration. She wanted someone to compliment her, take her into their arms and adorn her with kisses, someone to let her know how much she meant for the rest of her life.

Momo had forgiven worse sins in the past. Even though there was a pit in her stomach, she chose to ignore it and forgive him. Izuru was a man of his word. Her pain was sure to be impermanent.

"Okay. I believe you." Momo wrapped Izuru in her arms and laid her head against his chest. Izuru sighed in relief. Old habits never died, she guessed. "I love you, Izuru."

"I love you too. I love you so much."

Momo's gaze discreetly turned to Shuuhei. He watched with an indistinguishable expression. She hoped he was happy for them.

"Can I take you back to Hirako-taichou and Yadomaru-taichou? I hear we're having a celebration dinner for kyuubantai if they win. We can meet up at the restaurant after the game," Izuru said.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll see you then."

Izuru and Momo walked hand-in-hand back to the rugby game with Shuuhei behind them. Izuru kissed her goodbye. Momo returned to her seat next to her captain who greeted her with an inquisitive look. "I'll tell you later," she said. "Where were we going to for the celebration dinner?"

"A hibachi restaurant called Monkey's Nest. Are you up for going?"

"Yes, of course."

Finally, the whistle blew. The referee announced kyuubantai as the victor and Momo watched them celebrate on the field. The audience shuffled out of the bleachers. Momo collected the bleacher chairs for Lisa and they rushed to meet Kensei's supporters outside the field for dinner. Izuru met her again. He grabbed her hand in his own and they waited for their party to be completed. When Kensei and Mashiro arrived with wet hair from their shower, their gaggle made way to the Monkey's Nest.

"Have you ever been here before?" Izuru asked Momo.

"No, but I am excited to try it out. I've never seen teppanyaki before this. Are they going to have a table big enough for all of us?"

"Of course. There are only eight of us. Shuuhei and I made sure to reserve a full table too."

Despite their easy banter, Momo sensed the tension in their group. She was certain gossip about her and Izuru's fight had spread among their little family, and Momo cursed those gossip mongers. She hoped Shinji knew better than to divulge her personal matters to anyone but his spouse. When she glanced over her shoulder with one eye, she saw her captain and Rose sandwich Kensei. Shinji was visibly concerned by her proximity to Izuru, and she didn't blame him when just that morning, she was in tears and told him she had to run away after their fight. He must have thought poorly of her. In his shoes, Momo wouldn't have any different of a woman who went back to a man that terrorized her only twenty-four hours ago.

When they arrived at Monkey's Nest, Shinji cut between her and Izuru. "Looks like we'll be sitting together," he said, "seating arrangements and all that."

"Oh... alright," Izuru said.

"We're sitting next to each other, Izuru. Gonna get in some real bonding time by the looks of it."

Izuru remained sullen. Momo was ashamed that she was relieved to see Shinji let Izuru know he was happy to intervene next time.

"Right this way," their hostess said, who guided them to their respective tables. Shinji sat between her and Izuru.

"I'm in the mood for something new, Izuru, got any suggestions?"

"I'm not the person you should ask. I don't taste anything unless it's very spicy."

"Aw, c'mon, you gotta have something you liked."

"Beef yakisoba."

"Beef yakisoba? That's unoriginal."

"I'm a creature of habit."

Shinji groaned. "That's a shame. I thought you liked playing around."

"You heard wrong."

Momo worried they would devolve into a screaming match. Rather, Shinji would scream at Izuru and he would sit there and take it like a miserable sod because he thought he deserved it. Izuru wasn't an alpha by any means. While Momo was grateful for Shinji's support, she didn't want him to steamroll Izuru like Gin did. "Captain... please stop. We're here for your friend Muguruma-taichou, not to bully my boyfriend. Let's talk about this later."

Shinji frowned. "Alright, hun,” he conceded, “I'll drop it for now."

"Can I sit next to my boyfriend?"

"Can't say no to my daughter, can I?"

Momo sat next to Izuru and he gratefully held her hand on the countertop. She smiled at him.

"The duck yakitori is great," Izuru whispered.

Momo nodded. "I'll give it a shot. How're we dividing the check, by the way?"

"There's a maximum of three checks per reservation. I'll cover you, Hirako-taichou, Muguruma-taichou, and myself."

"I can pay for myself."

"Nonsense. I want to pay for your supper," Izuru told her and pet her back.

"Okay."

"How'd you like the game?"

"I was lost the entire time, truthfully. I don't know anything about sports."

"Me neither, I just like watching buff guys run around."

Momo giggled. "Well, I won't deny there were a couple of very good-looking gentlemen playing."

Their chef came and took their orders. When he spread oil on the grill and lit it with a match, Momo squealed in delight. She adored fire shows, and it stoked nostalgia for their first date only two months ago. It felt so long ago. Simpler and sweeter. Izuru was bittersweet.

Her food was dumped on her plate with a knock against its ceramic body. Momo tasted it and hummed contentedly. It was delicious. Momo's stomach actually rumbled gratuitously for the first time in decades.

Of course, all things came to an end. They covered the party's cost and dispersed outside.

"Can I hug you before you go, Momo?" Shinji asked.

She nodded. Her captain swept her into his arms. His embrace was fatherly. Momo rarely hugged anyone, but Shinji's embrace was reprieve. Like a fortress.

"Let me know if you need anything at all. I'm on your side and I always will be."

She held Shinji's clothes in her tight fists. That was all she ever wanted, someone ceaselessly loyal. Someone she was enough for.

"I'll take you home," Izuru said. She wrapped herself around Izuru's arm and waved farewell to her captain. When they reached her barracks, Izuru gave her a shy kiss.

"Can I stay here tonight?" he asked. "I know you're still hurt, but I don't feel right if I'm not with you after hours."

"Yes," Momo answered eagerly, "stay the night."

They were pulled like toys into her bedroom, where they stripped into more comfortable clothes and cuddled beneath her purple quilt. Momo knew moments like that, like true love, weren’t fleeting. They could be bruised but always healed.

---

Momo juggled unease and glee the days that followed. A cloud of doom followed her like she had it on a leash, but she told herself Izuru apologized, she told herself he treasured her enough to change his ways.

Kokona minded her own business. Momo was sure her keen subordinate picked up on the lump in her throat, but if Kokona noticed, she said nothing, only gossiped about her new friend from juunibantai when they accidentally melted something heavy through the floor of the monitor room. Her captain was the same. Shinji's poker face was convincing in most cases, but Momo got the sense Shinji itched to meddle like a father. Nonetheless, she was grateful for the space they gave her and Izuru.

She only saw Shuuhei one afternoon in a lieutenant's meeting. Perhaps it was her pet doom cloud, but Momo swore his jaw was tense and he talked quietly when he presented the emergency protocol in case of a large spread fire in the Seireitei. Momo had pretty keen hearing, but even she struggled to hear him. What had him so upset?

Momo and Izuru never returned to normal. Her need for affection was peppered with a chest ache, like there was a knife stuck in her ribs whenever Izuru kissed her. She promised all was forgiven. The doom cloud was just paranoia.

Of course, it stung worse when Izuru undressed her and tried to make love to her. Momo always ended up on her belly and dry by the time he finished, and then he rolled over onto his own side of whosoever bed they happened to use, and a horrible, vindictive part of her hoped it was shame that sequestered and silenced him.

In the past, Momo just floated through existence. She never slept, never enjoyed food or friendship, she hunkered down ten hours a day on paperwork. Momo was convinced even if their happiness was punctuated with misery, it was worth it.

Something in Momo told her it wasn't worth it. Her conflicted feelings were getting old, especially when she was distracted from the biweekly lieutenant's meeting. Iemura was sure to yell at her if she was caught.

When Momo came back, she saw Rangiku laze with her arms crossed, legs outstretched, eyes glazed over. Shuuhei was her antithesis when it came to work. He was always attentive and efficient. But he was distracted that meeting. His eyes were glazed over, they darted side to side. Momo knew he rest even less than herself, but come to think of it... Rangiku and Shuuhei were good friends. Rangiku divulged a lot to him. Something had to have happened to one of them for both of them to be distracted. Come to think of it, Rangiku normally braided her hair by that point. She was sullen comparatively.

But Rangiku was getting married, Nanao fret over a venue. They were happy. They couldn't have broken up. Had something happened to Shuuhei? Momo wasn't ever close to him. He wouldn't have shared anything with her that he shared with Rangiku.

When the meeting ended, Nanao and Rangiku caught up with her.

"Hello there," Nanao said. "I just finished the Yobanashi Mountain saga. It's a great series," Nanao told Momo. "Nawaka is long-winded when it comes to politics, but the world-building is worth it. Can you really believe he's an uneducated pauper when his grasp of economy, diplomacy, and language is so complete?"

Momo reluctantly fed into the distraction. If no one wanted to talk about it, she wouldn’t bring it up. "Is this really only the first book though? You could make a sturdy wall out of a couple copies of these."

"It is. The size is definitely daunting, but give the first chapter a try. You'll know you'll like it if it just sucks you in."

"I'll give it a read."

"Nonono. Momo, what you really need to read is the latest bulletin news section. Apparently, the Kuchiki clan's Ashitchi Kuchiki is being charged with the premediated murder of a sex worker in the upper Rukon. He, like, beheaded her or some shit. It was pretty gnarly. It's a shame they didn't include pictures of the body though."

"Oh god, beheaded her?" Nanao squawked. "Wow. Y'know, those upper nobles got some sick bastards in their families."

"Yeah, but will he be charged?" Momo asked.

"I don't know. The investigator for the bulletin, I think her name is Misaki Tomushiya, last talked to the family a week before the bulletin was published. Your guess is as good as mine."

"I hope they charge that creep. I'm tired of boys like that getting away with everything. Why do they get to live comfortably when they terrorized some poor, innocent girl. That's not right," Nanao said.

"It's not, but..." Momo shrugged. "Let's be real for a minute. She's a sex worker. No one cares about sex workers. Everyone reveres the noble families, especially Central Forty-Six. He'll get away with it. I bet Central Forty-Six will even pay him for his trouble."

Nanao shuddered. "I hate to think about it like that."

"Unfortunately, that's reality."

"It is. It doesn't mean it's right. We need a judicial body that completely ignores class, gender, occupation, all that."

"Or make sure Central Forty-six has middle to lower class individuals in it so the rich won't be let off scott-free."

"That's if the poor folks of Central Forty-Six are unsympathetic to the rich. You come across virtual cults worshipping the Kuchiki and Shihouin especially," Rangiku chimed. "In the lower districts, they either love the rich or loathe them."

"I didn't think of it like that." Nanao frowned.

"Speaking of the rich, though.... Momo, I hate prying, but I've heard down the grapevine that you and Izuru are in a bit of a rough patch," Rangiku said.

Momo's heart fucking stopped. Oh god, was it so bad? Was she fooled again?

"Look... Shuuhei told me about the game and the porno thing with Izuru.... I'm worried about you, Momo," Rangiku explained. It cleared up her brooding episode at least. "I tried to ignore it, but you've been off for the last two weeks sweetie. I'm just super worried a-and I know it's not my business, but you're one of my best friends and I want you to be happy."

Momo sighed. "I don't know, Rangiku. It's all confusing. I'm trying to sort it all out, but it's so... messy."

"God, I'm so glad I'm lesbian," Nanao grumbled.

"Have you guys even fucking talked about it, Momo?"

"Well... no. I don't really want to talk about it. Every time I think about it, all those girls being tied up and---"

"Hey now... sweetie, you don't have to describe it. Just talk about it. Humor me, please. All I want is your happiness."

Momo's brow furrowed. "Okay. I'll talk to Izuru about the pornography."

"And you won't yell?"

"I won't yell. We'll talk like civil adults."

Rangiku embraced Momo. "I'm glad. I love you both so much."

"I love you too, Rangiku."

Momo hugged Nanao as well. "I didn't want to leave you out. You're an amazing friend, Nanao."

"I know, and I love you too. Will you help me put together wedding invitations tonight?"

"Of course. I'd love to. I just need to send a message to Izuru to let him know I'll be late tonight," Momo said.

"Thank you."

---

Momo returned to Izuru's barracks well after midnight. He worked at his desk with red ink and his student's poetry.

"Welcome home," he said with an audible smile. "I made miso soup for you. I hope it tastes alright. I can reheat it for you, if you like."

"Yes, please," Momo said. Her heart pounded as she sat at the dining table. "Rangiku advised me we needed to discuss the... the pornography," she said. “Can we talk?”

Izuru dropped his ladle. "Momo, I-I'm sorry. I promise I'm not looking at it. I just want you, I want to make you happy."

"I... I know. Just... let’s posture that I am enough for you emotionally and physically. Why did you have the pornography?"

“I…” Izuru swallowed nervously, “I like it because I hate myself. When I picture myself in these situations where I’m being smacked around, I feel less hollow because I have external pain to concentrate on,” he explained. “It was never about you. I just needed an escape.”

“Oh.” Like how Momo craved to be hit. “Why did you have pornography of it?”

“Well… there isn’t porn of men getting smacked around, so I have to resort to BDSM on women. There’s a weird crossover of sexual stimulation and self-injury.”

So it wasn’t that he wanted to make her into a blow up doll. Momo was enough, but Izuru was already in pain and she only made it worse. “Oh, Izuru.” Momo threw her arms around him. “Izuru, I’m so sorry. I never even imagined.” She was so sorry, her heart broke. Momo was so cruel to the people she was supposed to love. "I never meant to hurt you. I was blinded by panic. Please, can you forgive me?"

"I forgave you long ago, Momo. I can never stay angry you."

"I'm so glad," Momo said tearfully. "I love you, Izuru. More than I could have ever imagined loving Sousuke or any other man."

"And I have forever, and will always love you," Izuru said.

Momo couldn’t hold back her grin. She pulled Izuru into the bedroom, her supper forgotten, and she pushed him onto his back. "I'll make you feel so good tonight. Show you how much you mean to me."

"Holy shit," he cursed as she pushed open his top layers. "You are gorgeous, baby."

"Yeah?" Momo pulled down Izuru's hakama. "I'm gorgeous?"

"God, yes." Izuru squeezed her breasts. Momo shrugged off her top to give him better access to her chest. Breathlessly, he said as he played with her nipples, "please fuck me.... Punish me for keeping secrets."

Momo's mouth went dry. The power was magnificent. It flooded her loins like a warm tidal wave. "You want me to punish you?" she said. Her fingers wrapped around his windpipe like bird talons. "I'm gonna fuck you sore. I'll milk you for every drop you have."

He groaned. Momo pushed down his pants and licked his partial erection with her flat tongue. Izuru's hips rolled forward with hopes to push himself into her waiting mouth. She repeatedly licked the opening of his head. Momo wanted to build up before she altogether blew him. She wanted him to be right on the edge, she wanted him to hurt for her softness to surround him.

"You're a naughty creature," she cooed. She licked the underside of his scrotum, and up and up she went until she reached the tip, where she circled it. Momo returned to the base, where his balls met his hips, and lapped at the flesh.

"Yes," Izuru whined, "I'm so naughty. Please punish me."

Momo mercilessly pinched one of his nipples. "I’ll make you fucking hurt, baby."

"Thank you, Momo."

Momo swallowed his cock and sunk her teeth into his wood. He gasped and tensed from the neck down. It throbbed and twitched in her mouth. Up and down she went, her teeth grazed his flesh. Izuru couldn’t feel pain, but she could tell he was delighted by her administrations.

Her nails dug into his testicles. He sucked in air between his teeth and moaned. “Sweet god,” he whined. Momo pulled his hands into her hair. His fingers happily entangled in her loosened hair. She reached the head of his erection and bit down into his engorged flesh. With her teeth and her soft cheeks around him, the contrast must have been delightful for Izuru because he bit his lip to stifle his moans.

Momo moved town to swallow his testicles and stroked his wettened wood with her hand.

“M-Momo, I’m so close,” Izuru whined. Momo immediately pulled away and sat on his sto mach.

“Well, that’s too bad. I can’t have you coming when I’m not even finished with you yet." She pushed down her own pants and slid down his thickened mast. She rode him like a toy. He squirmed beneath her. Momo kept her promise. With her newfound power gone to her head, she withheld her orgasm to draw out his again and again. Izuru's eyes crossed, he could barely move.

When Momo couldn't draw another out, she pushed off of his cock and sat on his lips. She was surprised and delighted to find he still had the motivation to lap at her soaked vulva. He reached inside of her with his tongue and enthusiastically stroke that special place he played with draw every bit of misery out of her and let her know how much he loved her.

Momo combed her fingers through Izuru's hair and pulled him harder into her. "Fuck.... That's right. You're a good cum-gargler, baby. I love your mouth." His groan vibrated against her and she shuddered. "Baby, harder, I'm so close...."

His head shook back and forth to increase stimulation. It was incredibly efficient. Momo moaned and bit her lip in bliss. She came on his lips. He gripped himself and stroked himself, and he lapped and lapped as she came. He came again just after her, like her pleasure was his, and the thought made her heat travel from her loins to her chest.

Momo fell off Izuru. Izuru sleepily kissed her.

"Thank you, my love," Izuru said. "That was… wow. I knew you would make a fantastic dominant, but that was mind-blowing."

She smiled. "I'm glad I'm good for you, baby."

"You've always been great, Momo. Always."

Momo kissed Izuru's cheeks, and he rubbed his nose against her like a sweet little boy. Momo turned onto her other side so she could fit her back side against Izuru. He wordlessly cuddled her.

"I love you, Izuru," Momo said. Perhaps she loved him more after that stint. He trusted her so much, he loved her so much he wanted her to hurt him. Wanted her in a way where he was her toy one minute and her partner the next.

---

Momo felt different in the weeks that followed. Braver, happier, she dared to conceive. Momo had an outlet for her anger, Izuru had an outlet for his self-loathing, and they fit together like snug jigsaw pieces outside the bedroom. Momo couldn't contain the news from Rangiku, of course. It was all thanks to Rangiku that her and Izuru's relationship reached their newest high.

On weekends, Rangiku was easily found in gross, skeevy bars. She was in a pub which swam with tobacco smoke and the smell of vomit. Rangiku was at the bar with another woman from juuichibantai, and Momo sat next to her and waved down the bartender for a mojito.

"You're the last person I expected to see here. Delightful, don't get me wrong." Rangiku swept her into a hug. "This is my friend Satochi Ganbe. He's our newest seated officer."

Oh dear... a man with breasts. Momo should've known better than to guess. She needed to change the subject before she made a fool of herself.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Satochi. I trust you know me. I just needed to speak to Rangiku real quick, I'll be out of your guys' hair soon enough."

"Oh my god, is everything okay?" Rangiku asked.

"Of course. I just wanted to thank you for your advice a couple weeks ago. I know it's well overdue, but I wanted to make sure Izuru and I were... well, okay, I suppose." Momo smiled. "And we are. Really, we're better than ever. He seems comfortable too."

"Oh shit," Rangiku cursed. "Oh my god. Okay, we need to go outside. Uh, Satochi, can you just... just meet me back at mine and Nanao's?"

Satochi blinked like a cat. "Sure. I'll see you there, Rangiku," he said, and then downed his drink and left for the door. Rangiku and Momo waited a minute for Satochi to get some distance between them. Momo's heart pounded in the meantime. What the hell was the problem? Her and Izuru talked about the pornography. Their relationship was fantastic. Izuru promised there wasn't anything else he kept from her. Had he lied?

"Momo, please know that I love you and I love Izuru too, a-and this isn't my place to tell you, but... clearly you guys aren't being forthright. Has Izuru told you about Shuuhei and Abarai?" Rangiku said.

Her mouth went dry. "What about them?" she asked grimly. Momo's thoughts raced and yet she couldn't think of anything that had to do with them.

"Izuru is in love with them."

Izuru was in love with them. Izuru was in love with other people. People that weren't her. And he lied to her about it.

Momo fell against the bar's facade and dropped onto the packed dirt ground. She still wasn't enough. She gave him love, and that wasn't enough. He had to resort to pornography to please himself. She gave him her domination in the bedroom, and that wasn't enough either because he was in love with other people.

Momo wasn't enough to keep Sousuke.

Momo wasn't enough to keep Izuru.

Momo wasn't enough to keep anyone.

"Sweetie, I know this is just... awful. He should have told you. But you're my friend, I-I couldn't keep the wool over your eyes too," Rangiku said.

"Is he fucking them?" Momo asked.

"No. They know how he feels, but they haven’t acted on anything."

Momo felt like her heart was scooped out like she scooped seeds out of a gourd. Her head was so foggy. She was duped again. Momo was duped again and she felt so stupid. She didn't want to feel anymore.

"I want to go home," she said. She just wanted to go home and draw, anything to get her mind off the news.

"Okay. I'll get you home, sweetie."

Rangiku helped Momo to her feet. She couldn't remember the walk back to her barracks. All she remembered was Izuru was on the couch with a book and she just felt dead inside.

"Was I not enough?" Momo asked. "Is that why you're in love with Shuuhei and Renji?"

Izuru was very much dead. Nonetheless, Momo could almost see him blanch like she caught him red-handed. "Rangiku, you told her?" he said indignantly. "I told you that in confidence!"

"And you haven't told your fucking girlfriend. What did you expect from me? She's my friend too. I-I can't just stand idly by while you fucking lie to her."

"We haven't done anything!" Izuru spat. "Please, Momo, you have to believe me. I love you so much. I know I've made mistakes, but you keep me on the straight and narrow path. All I want is you."

Momo refused to be fooled again. Izuru was like Sousuke, pathological. Everything that came out of his mouth, however sweet, however much Momo yearned to have faith in him, it was a blatant lie. It tainted every memory. Every time Momo kissed Izuru, every meal they shared, every time they slept together, every time they made love. It was all a lie.

"I can't believe you. Do you think I'm a fucking moron? A fucking thing you can just play with?"

"No, not in a million years, Momo. Never. You are everything. God, you are the very reason I get up in the morning anymore. Yes, I’m in love with Shuuhei and Renji, but I was so drunk and it just slipped out. I promise I was trying to tell you, I just couldn’t find how."

"Get out," Momo said. "I can't bear to listen to your drivel anymore. Get the fuck out."

Izuru stood statuesque with his eyes wide open and his mouth agape. It was like something was caught in his throat; tears, a plea to let him stay. But he said nothing, and he could no longer cry.

"I'll get my things tomorrow morning," he croaked. And then he left. His footsteps didn't make a sound as he walked out the front door.

Momo hobbled to her easel. She sat on her legs, she picked up a stick of pink chalk, and she scribbled some kind of flower on the coarse paper. The sound of the universe completely escaped Momo. Anything she could have felt walked out the door with Izuru.

"Momo... is this really the time to draw?" she asked. "Please, come sit with me.... I'll call Nanao over. We'll stay here tonight."

"I'd like for you to go home," Momo replied. "I would rather be on my own."

“Momo---”

“Rangiku, please. Just… go. I don’t want to be around anyone right now.”

Rangiku waited only a moment before she left too, with a sniffle that rang in Momo’s ears.

#bleach #bleachbigbang2019 #renshuukirahina #momo hinamori #izuru kira #rangiku matsumoto #nanao ise #shinji hirako #rannao #shinigami karin au

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dope-squish · 6 years

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Programmed And Damned [ RK800 Connor X Reader ] [ Detroit: Become Human ] - Chapter Four - Do You Believe In Soulmates

[ Goal - 60 Hearts/Reblogs ] [ Sorry for not updating. personal shit happened but now i'm back and i'm lowering the hearts or reblogs because why not ] [ Comments are extremely appreciated so please do comment. it makes authors feel great, i promise. it boosts our confidence ] [ Please press the heart button, the reblog button and share this fanfic to anyone and anywhere, this way, we'll more likely reach our goal ] [ Special mention to @timelizzy21 , @angsty-otters-blog , @connorshero , @divadonadance1 , @this-was-her , thank you so much for commenting *^* your comments made my day and i will continue making this story interesting so please keep reading on ][wanna make a fanart or soundtrack for the story? feel free to do so but if you ever do, please send them to me so i can post them in the future chapters so they can be appreciated]

It was basically considered a treachery when an android - a being created by humans' hands to obey orders they spout - feels any sort of emotion or anything at all but as you held a useless example of a father by his throat, the distressed crowd of humans is warm crimson blood stuttering to a halt as your fingers threaten to puncture the his rough skin - a total contrast to Autumn's which momentarily made you question about their relation - you can't help but to relish on the feeling of sickening pleasure it brought and it felt too fucking good to stop.

Ruth thrash about and put in great effort to oppose to your restraining and smothering clutch all around his bruising neck, brazenly sewing out string after strings of colorful and vibrant profanities that can and shall put a veteran sailor to shame, his livid glower zeroing solely on your monotonous facial expression. If his sight could burn as warm as the sun, then there was no ounce or a smudge of doubt that your optics would have melted. "You little plastic shit," A small but tempting part of your program felt the need to laugh at this man's chosen words - and broken speech - but realizig the gravity of the situation, you bit your tongue to refrain yourself from bursting out of laughter. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I am your owner. I control you ; you're supposed to obey me! Unhand me this instant! This is an order!"

An incredelous jeer dribbled from your sneer painted lips. An inhumane (so basically in-android? in-deviant) snarl was at risk to tear from your throat as your tongue spout out unregistered sentences from your system. "I don't take orders from anyone, and especially not from you." You spat out in disdain. "I am not a little plastic shit."

[ I AM DEVIANT ]

"I am a Deviant."

[ I AM HUMAN ]

"I am a human."

[ I AM ALIVE ]

"And," You wrenched him closer to your face until you were for certain he is aware of the warmth of your breath fanning his face. "I am alive."

Your vice grip around him was unyeilding and constricted even more so than you have ever imagined CyberLife would allow you (but then again, you are an android which serves a purpose for battling so it didn't really come much to a revelation). From this significant but effective change of strangulation, Ruth's calloused and grease tainted fingers let Autumn's silky auburn hair slide delicately through his ditt encrusted fingertips, unwillingly granting her freedom from his grasp and allowing her to flee from his ghastly intentions to lay a hand in her. Mentioned woman crawled away on all fours from her father and clumsily staggered back up on her feet, body lurching back and fro and hands blindlessly darting around her surroundings until they landed on some sort of leverage. Your enhanced pupils surveyed and calculated the enviroment enclosing Autumn's frame and the second you were guaranteed that she was safe from any form of hazardous danger, you - with a grunt in effort - inconsiderately flung Ruth as far as your arm power could conjure away from Autumn's location.

Ruth landed unpleasantly on more than a few heaps of bare containers and from the impact his stature had bestowed, their balance sense of stability became a chaotic jumble and plunged all over him, one particular box having been able to get caught on his head. A couple of men who stood standby, additionally the other Clashers - among them was Daryl's equally aggresive owner, William - scurried to Ruth's position to come to his aid. While they were being occupied with Ruth's welfare, your hand retracted from the puncture your fist constructed and outstretched it towards Daryl who immediately recoiled away from you, shrinking to what could be meraphorically described as a small mouse; traumatized to an absolute amount and thinking you were to move to harm him.

Your enhanced eyesight drifted to the microscopic wounds your android and mechanical induced body created around frail throat that were leaking with small amount of thirium. Undetectable by human eyes but noticable by androids's optics. An odd, indescribable feeling burst within the wires spreading across your body, overfilling you with the need to apologize and gain a confirming acceptance from the person included in your problem. Your system surfed throughout the web in search for an acceptable apology for someone you've almost and near deliberately harmed someone to bring them to their demise.

[ MALEWARE DETECTED :

GUILT ]

"Come on now, we don't have time to waste," You murmured under your breath and took tight hold of Daryl's hand in your own and hauled him back to his feet in one tug, steadying him as he tumbled wobbily on his two left feet. Your eyes surveyed the area and with a quick scan the surroundings, you manage to locate the oldest and rusting metal door in the arena which was your only hinderance to your desired freedom. Puckering your lips to point its idle existence, you clamored, "Over there!"

Avoiding all the pieces of what's left of the androids you callously obliterated in your state of android service for the humans - [ System Error ^ ] - you towed Daryl alongside you as your synthetic frames stood presented before the rusting door obstructing your journey to your freedom, you decreed, "Stay back."

Daryl had half the mind to part his dry lips to question your motive but his inquiry remained unspoken as he was rudely interrupted once your clenched hand made contact with the metal door, sending said object flying back to meet with the cemented wall right behind it with a booming and resounding noise within the interior of the factory that garnered the watchfulness of every being with a beating heart. Without sparing much less of an ounce of care for the destruction you've produced, you drew Daryl away from the arena and settled him behind you as your feet descended the small flight of stairs with hasty footfalls, thirium shaped footprints left staining the staircase. Daryl lurched at everg direction - threatening to fall off his footing - and had difficulty catching up with your pace yet - by some means - maintained impressive equilibrium, which you think was notable for someone having trouble inhaling. Maybe if he remembered he's technically still an android still, he would have no need to breathe.

Once your feet met the cold tiled floorings of the factory, so unlike the rough cement the arena held and as soon as your feet touched the very last staircase, they automatically brought you to where Autumn was positioned gripping her agobizingly throbbing scalp from the excruciating pain it endured from her only family. Your LED colored itself crimson red and your hand left Daryl's as it cupped Autumn's cheek gently, scanning if she sustained any fatal injuries. Your logical side was reprimanding you, telling you that you were overreacting seeing as Autumn had no evidence of red blood on any part of her nor does her clothes but you couldn't seem to find control for your motor skills.

"Autumn," Your murmured was broken from the concern injected into your tone, "Are you okay? How badly did he harm you? Can you move properly? Do you need my assisstance?"

Autumn softly took hold of the hand which held her cheek with an indescribable gentleness - which you didn't notice was quivering - and flashed you an uncertain smile as she pulled it away. She looked equally as perplexed at your uncommon display of affection. "I'm fine, [ Your Name ]," She reassured, her tone laced with scratchiness. "I'm fine," She repeated, more firmly this time around but the tragic lines of hurt on her face told you otherwise.

Your scanner made an attempt to inspect her wellbeing but for the first time, it failed to give any commonsensical information that would ease the concern blossoming in your thirium empowered artificial heart. "I apologize for my actions . . . I was, as humans say," You gulped. ". . . worried."

You didn't miss the dilation of Daryl's optics upon hearing your humiliating - as you deemed it to be - confession (the reason to your embarrassment must be coming from when you thought yourself as an unfeeling machine just a few minutes ago) as a small, jolly grin plastered on Autumn's features.

[ Autumn ^^ ]

[ Daryl ^ ]

Her beam brightened, if humanly. "Don't worry about me," She insisted.

Daryl interjected, yours and Autumn's heads snapping to his direction. "You must believe her. I scanned her. A few strands of hair was ripped off from her scalp and a mild numbing pain is present. Other than that, she's fine."

Your brows slanted as confusion positioned itself on your face. "But when I scanned her earlier - "

"She sustained no grave injuries, if that's what you're thinking." Daryl butts in. "What attained data your system received is undoubtedly an exaggeration. That's what commonly happens when an individual lets their emotions get the best of them."

The moment was cut off to a short when your proximity sensors caught a movement rapidly approaching your figure. In a swift motion, you grasped the arms of your two companions and pulled them down with you as you ducked. In unison to their bewildred yelps was the shattering of an empty bottle of beer that went overhead your frames and hit the floor with a sickening sprinkle. The surrounding crowd was chattering anxiously as they came audiences to a new scenario while some took the liberty to make use of this unfortune as an excuse to react negatively by spouting out colorful vocabularies and dangerous responses, hence the bottle.

Autumn was the first to stand, you and Daryl following suit to her actions. "That was a close one," She whimpered.

A smile threatened to appear on Darly's face - like some sort of silent agreement to her statement - but its possibility drastically went down as his sight trailed to the side. "You spoke way too soon." He spoke out in a tone you couldn't quite comprehend.

Autumn's brows furrowed in puzzlement, blinking. "W-What do you mean?"

Daryl's finger pointed and you followed its aimed direction only to locate Ruth Judge, along with the few other android Clashers all huddled together and glowering at the three of you with an intensity you cannot think was possible for any mortal to reach. From an expression you've stumbled across before in a shady website in the internet, if looks could kill, you'd be six feet below the ground by now.

Daryl faced them. "We need to go," He suggested. "As in, right now."

"No! We can't do that!" Autumn fought back, a scowl painting over her terrified expression. "We need to fight!"

A frown carved its way to Daryl's lips. "We're just wasting our time. And possibly compromising what little chance we have of surviving. We need to escape. And if you can't see, we're outnumbered."

Autumn, not one to back down on her decision, retaliates. "[ Your Name ] knows combat. That's enough. You've seen her take down those androids in the arena earlier. Humans are much more fragile and prone to injuries. We can help her fight back. We can't run away like cowards!"

He spat out, "There's nothing cowardly about wanting to survive, Autumn. It's too risky for us!"

"They're going to hurt us."

"Not if we run now." Daryl argues. "We can leave. We don't have to hurt anyone."

Uninevitably, the two faced your uncertain figure, both searching for your opinion in the matter at hand. To settld the feud, you scanned the premises and saw the probability of their suggestions.

[ Flee : 88 % ]

[ Fight : 92 % ]

You were torn between the two choices. Fleeing might be the wisest - and most pacifict - here for you had the knowledge these humans are no obstacle to you - a so called killing machine - but fighting was a display of dominance and in doing so, more humans will be less likely to chase you three after witnessing what brutality you had to initiate on them. After pondering and weighing the two options handed to you, you decided - [ Flee ]

"Your call," Autumn said so as she sent you a pointed look, as though telling you to make the correct decision. "Escape or fight back."

You took a moment to register your answer - making sure it was what you estimate as a better decision - before taking a hold of your companions' wrists and clamoring, "Let's move!" as you begin leading them through series of obstacles hindering your progress to flee from the group of men, sprinting as you rounded the large round arena in search for an escape passage.

[ Autumn / ]

[ Daryl ^^ ]

Regardless of the agitated screams tearing from the throats of countless frustrated Clashers, they were not the ones who managed to attain your undivided attention. Instead, from the corner of your eye, you took special note of the two familiar figures moving hurriedly with your pace - as though mimicking your response to run from danger - from the upper bleachers. Turning subtly to examine them more clearly, you spotted the same RK800 android sprinting - a look of programmed determination nestled on his perfectly symestrical features - with an old man with bulging stomach and untamed beard in tow who was clearly having a hard time catching up with the artificial human. Already knowing you can't extract any information from the android, your sight fleeted to the old man and scanned him for data instead.

[ Name - Hank Anderson ]

[ Occupation - Police Lieutenant ]

[ Handled Case - Deviants ]

"Fuck." The curse felt raw on your tongue as you spat it out in frustration and realization, head darting back to your main objective which was to exit the factory with Daryl and Autumn, unharmed and most importantly, alive.

"What's wrong?" Questioned Daryl as he matched your pace, brows burrowed together in concern for your outburst. "Is there something wrong?"

"A police lieutenant is chasing after us." You informed the two of them as you took a sharp turn inside a corridor, an unguarded metal door at the very end. "He has an android with him. A police android or something. They're here catching deviants."

The dilation of Autumn's frenzied amber pair of eyes was easily detected. "Deviants," She breathed out, "Like you and Daryl?"

You nod in response. "Like me and Daryl."

***

Once the trio entered a corridor and left his eyesight, a profanity spilled from Connor's lips and his pace significant quickened. "Hurry, lieutenant! They're getting away!"

"Well," An exhausted Hank huffed out as his cramping legs, damaged lungs and old age slowed him down to what Connor considered as a burden. "Try running after deviants and a very advanced prototype in my age."

Though hidden from Hank's sight, the RK800's LED bore a vibrant yellow color. "Androids don't age." Pointed out Connor in a matter-of-fact tone, to which Hank gritted his teeth to out of annoyance.

"Don't take it too seriously. I'm just stating my point." Hank retributed and soon enough, he slowed down to a stop. "Us humans aren't as indestructible and full of gasoline or thirium whatever as you are."

Connor's footsteps decelerated once registering the complaint that his human a parter spouted. "Do you want me to wait for you?"

Hank shook his head, back bent over and had one of his hand over his knee and the other dismissively waving his suggestion off like a pesky bee buzzing around. "No, no! Just go ahead and catch those deviants! I'll . . ." Hank leaned against the railing beside him, head thrown back. " . . . I'll just catch up with you."

"Got it," With an obedient nod, Connor whipped around and resumed his chase for the capture of the deviants and the female human. He scurried inside the corridors, his polished shoes slewing against the pavement and using his optics to unearth the faintest evidences of the combat android turned deviant's traces to pursue. He came to a skidding halt once a soft clink of a metal door softly closing reached his eardrums and soon enough, not a few second wasted, he found himself at the very last hallway built in the factory, and charged towards the door at the very end.

Shoving the door open with one of his calloused hand, he firmly stood at the very back of the factory where abandoned constructions machineries were laid like garbage and there - a cemented wall a few meters away from him - were numerous huge crates of different sizes where the duo of deviants and human Autumn Judge were using as makeshift stairs. New pop ups appeared on his optics.

[ Current Objective - Catch The Deviants ]

[ Side Objective - Question The Human ]

Without a single thought, Connor sprinted towards mentioned crates and as early as he calculated he was near enough, he extended his arm to reach and tightly took hold of the combat android's arm, tugging it back with all his might which caused it to stagger backwards until it fell from the crate it once stood upon and collapsed on the gravel covered groun. RK800 Connor parted his lips to reprimand the deviant of its desire to escape his clutches and the law's consequences - he could tell the deviant that it has the right to remain silent but seeing as humans' rights aren't applied with androids and deviants, it was out of the question - and surrender quietly but he nearly bit his tongue off when a swift kick was delivered to his face. Thankfully, his reflex saved him from ant damages. Before he could regain composure, a knee made contact with his chest followed by a powerful push. The thirium flowing in his thirium empowered pump temporarily stilled from the impact it endured and from that, Connor hovered a hand over his chest but kept his vice grip around its arm, unfazed as he staggered from its' assault.

"[ Your Name ]!" Autumn clamored in a moment of frenzy and made a motion to move from the highest crate to help and save the deviant - [ Your Name ] - from his duty-inclined actions but the other deviant - Daryl as it has stated earlier in the arena - was quick to hold her back and getting involved in the situation by wrapping his hand around her wrist.

[ Your Name ] moved towards him and grabbed both his arms, intending to redo its attack from earlier but already having seen it once, Connor successfully retaliated by ducking down, dodging the leg that thrusted above his head before getting back on his feet. Its leg got caught on Connor's shoulder and he used this opportunity to push forward in order to make it lose its balance and fall down and pin it helplessly to the ground. At this, it responded by letting go of both of his arms and flipped back to keep its state of balance. It's quite troublesome. Connor thought as he shot his fist towards it face but it leaned away and threw itself to the side. Connor had never encountered a deviant that could equal his intelligence and attacks, but encountering this combat android, he was proven quite wrong and if he ever had feelings, he wouldn't know how or what to feel.

"What are you doing? Let go of me! We need to help her!" Autumn cried out as she desperately tried tugging her wrist from Daryl's hold.

Daryl shook his head in disagreement. "You'll just get caught in it! We need to trust her!"

[ Your Name ] rolled towards the stack of bricks and skidded to a stop, teetering the said bricks to its precarious downfall. Connor took note of its subtle and sneaky fingers enveloping the brick that bumped against its footwear - he knew exactly what its intention was. It was too obvious to miss. Before he could process his next approach, the brick was already sent flying towards his rigid figure. In an instant, he swiped his arm to the side, the brick colliding with the synthetic skin of his forearm but his pupils dilated as a hand appeared charging to his face in a rapid speed. Though his bewildrement did not last long as the deviant wished it would. In a way to defend himself, he lifted his hand to catch the fist hurtling his direction in midair, just in time before it could cause any damage on him.

Connor's lips let a gasp slip from him, just like [ Your Name ]'s lips did once their hands connected. What information he failed to gain from the deviant was now within his grasp the second they their hands touched.

[ New Information Available ]

[ Model - AA 01 ]

[ Given Name - [ Your Name ] ]

[ Model - Combat Android ]

[ Owner - Ruth Judge ]

What on earth? Connor could see himself downloading all the information given to him but not because he wanted to or because of his purpose to acquire every single information needed to make a successfuly investigation, but because his subconsciousness wanted to. Subconsciousness, well that wasn't part of an android features and not having to run an analysis on himself, it especially wasn't part of his program. In that horrifying realization, Connor pulled away as though the combat android's hand stung him and fell to the ground with a soft thud, gawking at [ Your Name ]. It stared back at him with the same expression, LED glowing red. It must be experiencing the same thing but how come? He wanted to dwell more into this enigma but another realization dawned him - that after coming in contact with you, all his software instability disappeared in an instant. In fact, he could consider himself at peace.

"What are you waiting for? Let's fo [ Your Name ]!" Autumn hollered. Connor was idle, too stunned and too perplexed to chase after the three of them and settled only on watching as the female human dragged the combat android back up to the crates to escape the factory. Daryl jumped first, disappearing behind the wall and Autumn was next. [ Your Name ] was preparing to leap in tow with them but before it did, it spared a look back to stare at him. Connor stares back at it and said nothing as it jumped and ran off with its companions.

Connor picked up the subtle sound of the door slamming open behind him and the familiar footsteps of his partner in crime approaching him. However, he didn't look over his shoulder but rather fixated his sight on his hand which formerly held the deviant's fist. His hand was vibrating softly, as though desiring to touch and hold the deviant's hand once more. "Connor? Connor!"

Catching sight of the prototype merely sitting on the ground, Hank can't help but think of the worse and begab conjuring up ridiculous reasons as to why an android of his type was doing nothing to pursue its goal. "Are you okay? What happened? Where's the deviants? The human?" Hank questioned Connor but he was rendered shocked when an unexpected response from the RK800 reached his ears.

"Lieutenant," Connor starts as he begins looking back to stare into Hank's eyes, "Do you believe in soulmates?"

don't forget to click the heart button, reblog button and share this fanfic! wanna make a fanart or soundtrack for the fanfic? feel free to do so! please make sure to send them to me so i can post them on the next chapters so they can be appreciated [•^•].

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