#that's me scurrying out of sight when you notice me lurking

[kotoyin]

[act-nat-ural]

Occupied

Chapter Three: Debriefing

(this is so unserious and im obviously bullshitting certain stuff but oh well it’s fun. Enjoy!)

chapter 2 \\\ chapter 4

The pair of eyes behind that skull bore into your eyes, never leaving for a second.

He has very pretty eyes. Lashes, too.

You nervously swallow, about to explain how you weren’t technically eavesdropping because you hadn’t intended to listen in- when your sweaty hands drop the container of bleach.

THUNK.

The sound echoes through the hallway. This is it. This is how you die. Glared at and humiliated to death by a masked man with pretty eyelashes.

The door in front of you creaks open, their captain sporting an inquiring look. Faster than you’ve ever moved before in your life, you pick up the jug and push it into his hands. You point directly at the man behind you.

“He needs stitches in his thigh.” Just like that, you scurry off to the bathroom to get over the embarrassment of being caught eavesdropping. If you had lingered for just a moment longer, however, you would have noticed the look that the man behind you gave you that screamed ‘snitch.’

——

“What on earth was that?” Kyle asks, head nodding to the girl who just ran off faster than Usain Bolt.

“Simon gave her a bit of a fright, I suppose.” Price chimes in, chuckling a bit and shaking his head. Simon just rolls his eyes and goes to steps around him, before Price catches him by the shoulder. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your little injury. Our little hostess ratted you out, as well. Sit.” He orders, guiding him to a chair at the dining table. Simon sits down reluctantly, side-eyeing Johnny as he does. The younger man just grins back at him.

“Take your pants off for us, Ghostie.”

“…What?”

Seeing Simon’s dumbfounded face, Johnny starts laughing so hard he winces and holds his side. “For the wound, ye idiot.” Oh. Of course, Simon knew that. Obviously. He sighs, before unbuckling his belt and shimmying his trousers down. He can feel the blood on his pants forcing them to stick to his thigh and grimaces at the thought. You’ve been through worse. Any other person would probably have been embarrassed at being pants-less in such a scenario, but he knew these men. He trusted them with his life. They trust you with theirs too, and look at what almost happened to Johnny.

Kyle does him the honor of handing over the stitches, knowing Simon prefers doing it himself. Steady hands, you know. He hears Johnny sulking beside him.

“How long do I have to lay on this god-forsaken table? I’m all stitched up, and my back is killing me.” He whines.

Kyle doesn’t feed into his complaints, stating “You can make when we’re sure you aren’t leaking like a bloody hose.”

“Haud yer wheesht.”

While Simon fixes himself up and the other two bicker like children, Price stares contemplating the door that you disappeared into. You looked seriously shaken up when he opened the door on you and Simon, like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

“Simon?” He gets a glance up in response. “What were you two doing in the hallway? Simon focuses his sights back on his thigh.

“She heard you talking. About what to do.” Ah, so that’s why you looked so guilty. Silly girl, this was your residence, not theirs. You could lurk wherever you pleased.

“Guess we should explain ourselves then. Alright boys, finish up in here. Time to do some debriefing.”

——

You stare loathing at the reflection in the mirror. Why did you run like that? You didn’t even do anything that bad, just lingered outside the door for a little longer than necessary. But there was something about his stare, how it looked straight into you. No one has ever looked at you so closely before.

You turn the faucet on, splashing your face with cold water. You sigh, dragging your hands down your face. I wonder what time it is. When you reach for your back pocket, you pause. You don’t have your phone. You groan at the realization that you are going to have to do a walk of shame to go get it.

Cmon, you can do this. You are just being a little anxious that’s all. Who cares that you’re alone with four insanely attractive strangers? Not you, that’s for sure.

Taking one last deep breath, you give yourself a once-over in the mirror. Deeming yourself presentable, you step outside the bathroom.

Only for them to not be in the dining room. Where the hell did they go? You take a few steps farther into the room, noting the prominent smell of chemicals. A quick glance down tells you that they were true to their word and did clean up after themselves.

Just how long were you in the bathroom? They probably think you were taking a stress shit.

Sighing for about the trillionth time tonight, you take off in search of these mystery military men. You are overdue for an explanation for all this.

——

It’s extremely evident that they plan on staying here, as seen in the way that they have taken over the living room. They all look up at your entrance and the captain gives you a nod. The injured one strewn across the couch gives you a wave over saying, “Aye, there you are lass. I was beginnin’ to think you fell in the toilet. Saved you a spot, special jus’ for you.” He wiggles his toes (he took his shoes off?) at the empty spot on the sofa. Your jaw drops in disgust.

Ew.

“Stop scaring her, you freak.” The one sitting next to him, in the hat, delivers a swift punch to his shoulder. While he squawks back at him, ‘Am not a freak! Just having a bit of wee fun!’ you sit down, as far away as possible. Their captain clears his throat and positions his body facing towards you.

“I’m sure you're feeling a bit overwhelmed, right love?” He asks gently. You nod, unsure when to chime in. “Do you know what sort of occupation your friend Adam Baker is in?”

“Yeah. The creepy fucker makes bombs.” You say nonchalantly. Now, you aren’t sure if you are necessarily supposed to know this, but you and Eliza don’t keep secrets from one another. Including government or nondisclosures.

You can see him bite back a smile and nod in confirmation. The loud one barks out a laugh, ‘I like her,’ and you swear you heard a chuckle come from the masked one.

“Yes, yes he does. For the military. Now, I’m sure you can already tell that we are special forces.” He pauses so you nod in confirmation. “Right. Well, we had a… little mishap last night. More serious than I would prefer but we make do. This brings me to how we knew of this location. Do you have family in the military?” You have to think for a second about it.

“My uncle served, but that’s it. Why?” Where is he headed with this?

“Well, there’s this clause that was put in place a bit of years ago now. To sum it up, if there were ever an accident and personnel needed temporary housing, like us right now, government employees who signed consent forms would allow them to stay in their homes. Seeing as the Bakers are good friends of mine, I gave him a ring before we headed here.”

Okay. A lot to process. The wheels are spinning in your head, making connection after connection. I wonder if this has to do with his sudden trip.

“You still with us?” You are snapped out of your thoughts by his gruff voice.

“Yeah. So… how long do you have to stay here?” It may sound rude, but it was a valid question. You were hoping they didn’t totally monopolize your vacation. He takes a minute or two, making eye contact with the others. Uh oh. This isn’t going to be good. He clears his throat again before responding.

“A few weeks. At the very least.”

Great. All that time and money down the drain. All you wanted was a relaxing vacation and this is what you get. A dangerous situation with strange men imposing on you. What a dream.

“…Why?” He looks at you startled.

“What do you mean?”

“Why a few weeks? Why can’t the military just pick you up now and you be on your way? I don’t mean to be rude, I just don’t understand.” You rush out the last part.

“Leaving isn’t safe.” A baritone voice pipes in. You realize it’s coming from the masked man. You also realize that was the first time you heard him speak. He has the sort of voice that fills the room and suffocates you.

You must be making a horrified face because the man in the hat, (Jesus you need to learn these people's names) slowly turns and gives him a look that says ‘Are you fucking crazy?’

“It’s alright, you’re asking the right questions. It’s just not safe for us right now. We had a mole in our last mission and we weren’t exactly sure who it was. Also, I’m sure you noticed we aren’t in the best of states right now.” You think back to the blood pooling all over the tiles. Yeah, you’ve noticed all right.

“So… just who are you?” He smiles at this question.

“I am Captain John Price. Over there is Lieutenant Simon Riley, Sergeant Kyle Garrick, and Sergeant John Mactavish.”

TAGLIST: @scarletdfox

[sseulfleur]

Red's sight —

synopsis : you decide to help the stranger stopping a spike that was about to destroy your hometown, but of course the blue-clothed, weird looking guy knocked you out before you could run off, only to take you to the Valorant Protocol. the people who were originally on your #1 target list.

tags: f!reader, yoru x reader, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, you are a super radiant , valo protocol investigates you, phoenix being a flirt (as always), yoru is A DICK

a/n : it’s my first fanfic! waaaa pls dont be too harsh on me lol, i will be cross-posting on ao3 probably! link on my profile :]] thinking about posting pt.2/ continuing if this gets big

I.

You dreaded your next step, puffy eyebags slightly hidden under the mask. Avoiding your body, and noticing how exhausted it was, is a skill you’ve honed well over the months, but it isn’t possible to keep it going forever.

You leaned forward in your stance as you faced the little screen towards you, gaze tracing the pixels.

You looked at the map, including all the information you needed, and they were all filled to the border of the device you located them on.

"It's time." You thought as you went through the countless amounts of letters again, you've been hunting down those people for a long time; the Valorant Protocol.

A bunch of assholes that gunned down several locations that included your hometown, with the so-called "spike" they've also used for destruction, but what was their motive?

You tried and attempted looking–, no, you were looking for them for a long time, yet it always led to nowhere.

You remained there, trying to study the map location on A side more as you stared down at the device, your body was already moving, leading to change paths until you heard a wildfire of gunshots breaking out near you.

You clenched your hand on the rifle that was resting on your back before, you reloaded and decided to correct your body position. Cautiously looking around, scanning eyes around the area.

"It must be from B side." You muttered to yourself as you lowered your gun, the itch in your hands came back as dark red energy appeared around them, and your eyes started to turn into a lighter shade of red before you hushed your way over to mid.

FIRST ABILITY: Silent Scurry

The agent is so quick, that it almost seems like they're teleporting from place to place, but most dangerous: it's silent when needed.

Stay alert.

You plastered your back to the wall as you were about to push up to B side, the gunshots sounded even messier before you approached through mid. You glanced over the hallway while you raised your vandal and peeked; no one was there.

Like a shot, the sound pinched through your whole body, that goddamn high-pitched noise you know too well.

Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep

It was like a ticking clock that was even able to blend out the gunshots, the ones that were just louder seconds ago.

You lurked through the alley as you made yourself sneak over to B site, "Now was my chance", you thought. It was them who planted the bomb, they were here.

And you had to stop them.

Sucking in your bottom lip, you stood with a nod, a raised gun near your chest. You hesitated until u took a sharp breath and swung out onto B side.

You narrowed your eyes but didn't spot anyone at first which still brought you to not let your guard down. You were checking every corner until you heard a weird noise behind you, from the corner of your eye, you could tell someone was there.

Before you were able to aim at them, someone swung out and started firing, you rolled back as you got up and put a bullet between his two eyes, his body falling onto the ground. The person behind you was also shooting but not at you, were they... another citizen?

"Hey! Defuse the spike!" You screamed over to that stranger because it seemed like he was there to stop it, and you would sacrifice anything before your hometown gets torn into pieces.

The last thing you wanted was for this mission to be your last one. In front of you, that blue-clothed guy crouched even lower to the ground, pointing some device in front of the spike.

You fell back slightly behind him, noticing someone trying to come up to him, but you were aware and took them out before they could stop him or register your presence.

The ground started to suddenly break down as everything started floating, and the beeping of the spike got faster and more annoying to the brain when the frequency went higher.

"Stop the fucking spike, will you?!"

You screamed at him, but he seemed like it wasn't his first time being near the brink of death, the pressure was getting more overwhelming, your feet started to lift off the ground, and you furrowed your brows as you covered your eyes, unsure whether he was going make it or not.

You opened your eyes as hard surfaces met your body harshly, you huffed in slight pain but got yourself up, the spike was now defused, laying there motionless.

You were about to look at the stranger who just caused this, but the wall met your back pretty rough before you could even do so. You let out a grunt before you looked up.

"And who the hell are you?"

His accent was thick while his voice was monotone, that was more than enough to notice he wasn't from around here, but he seemed like he knew more than enough on how to cuss you out. You pushed the person in front of you away before you tilted your chin up, only to meet the gaze of two brown eyes.

"None of your business." You spit back as you scanned him, weird clothing that was centered around the color blue, his hair slicked back with gel, too much gel. His facial expression looked so angry that made you think you planted the fucking spike.

You were about to walk off when you noticed he wasn't planning on showing any of his gratitude until you got pushed back in place with a gun.

"Are you out of–"

You felt cold metal against your forehead which made you sigh internally, maybe it wasn't the bomb that was going to kill you.

The blue guy talked into his jacket which was most likely communications and him asking for support, so he was part of some group. You heard a crackle before some mumbling got out of his earpiece, you raised an eyebrow at him as he lowered his gun.

"Affirmative Brimstone, bringing her to base."

And before you could dedicate your thoughts to what that son of a fucker just said, a hit landed on your jaw, it started aching, and black dots decorated your sight before everything went pitch black.

Your mind was blank as your consciousness was the first thing you woke up with, you started to feel your body as you felt the slight pinch coming from your jaw.

Your eyes fluttered open as you noticed the outline of some people. You were in a room, but you don't recall being here before you passed out.

You let out a heavy breath as your recent memories flooded back into your mind, you looked at the guy sitting across from you while some people were standing behind him.

“Sage, did you heal that kid already?” he said, pinching the area between his eyes while he closed them. The guy smelled like old-man body spray, sweat, and ham sandwiches.

The woman beside him with long hair, tied back into a high ponytail, bobbed her head softly and gave a slight smile. She seemed the kindest one out of everyone in this room. "She seems fine for now, Brimstone."

“Okay now,” That old-looking man with a beard started, standing up and moving around you in circles, eyes not leaving you. There were a couple of other people surrounding you, but you didn't care. “—we're going to interrogate her first!”

I slowly shifted my eyes around the room to examine it, but I noticed from my eye corners that the old fucker was already following my gaze with judging looks.

"Escaping won't help, I can already tell you that."

"Keeping a woman hostage won't bring you further either." you hissed as you narrowed your eyes at him, you are more than ready to signalize you're not here for their fun.

Without the serious façade, that old man just lidded his eyes and stared at you with his eyebrows pushed up, wordlessly saying "really?".

He sat back down on the other side of the desk again, eying me.

What you weren't ready for earlier was when a 5'11 guy knocked you out while you were trying to help him detonate a spike, but hey, you should've seen it coming, right?

Now you're sitting here in a dark room, being interrogated by some people that were getting on your nerves already.

"What's your name kid?" That old man sighed, but you just remained silent out of spite, you were forced here, and that will be the best they can get.

"Where do you live?"

Silence.

"How do you know about the spike?"

Silence.

"Why did you help him?"

Silence.

"....Are you working for someone?—"

"I was only helping because I didn't want to die to a fucking bomb."

You said it in a somewhat decent tone to get your point across. "But knocking me out and dragging me here was unnecessary" You said in a backhanded tone and glanced over to the guy who was responsible for that.

“I need you to get your head out of your ass for a second, please, this is serious kiddo.” His lips pressed into a thin line, brows pushing into a hard look. He was slowly starting to get impatient. So this time he meant urgent time.

"My head's already up here." You said bluntly and suddenly that dark-skinned, tall guy, that looked like he was about to catch fire, snorted and tried to surpress his laugh. Now it was he who suffered under that "Brimstone’s” gaze.

I let my back sink into the seat as I looked back, I wasn't planning on staying here any longer and my temper was already adding to it.

“Just let her go Brimstone, I told you it’s useless. Or maybe get rid of her if she knows too much.” a feminine voice spoke out with a slight Spanish accent in it, I raised my head to see who it belonged to and saw a woman who was about in her 30s, looking at me suspectedly with her purple eyes.

Brimstone held his hand up annoyed as a sign for everyone to pause, he was a bit more forward, straight up trying to look into my soul.

“We need to get ahold of this chaos, she’s too dangerous to let go. Until then, she will stay here.”

[daydream-cement]

Violet and Rose Ch. 7

Larissa Weems x OC (Fern Rogers)

Authors Note: No notes people. It’s just a good ole chapter of our favorite lil babies.

“I’m a horrible daughter. How could I lie to them?” You ask Larissa. Your head was resting in her lap on a pillow as she sat with her back against the wall where a headboard would normally be. Her fingers danced along the edges of your face trying to sooth you, “You saw the look on my mother’s face. If she finds out the truth, she will be crushed…”

Larissa was only half paying attention to your words. Instead her eyes were glued to the ring that she now wore on her left hand. She absolutely loved the thought of being married to you and having it remain there, “You are not a terrible daughter.”

You took two deep breaths before working out a plan aloud, “We pretend to be engaged while we are here, then has soon as we hit security in that airport, you can take it off and won’t even have to think about it for another couple years.”

She wouldn’t tell you this, but Larissa knew she didn’t want to take it off and she certainly didn’t want to wait that long. Larissa loved the idea of spending the rest of her life with you. From early on you made it known that you had strong opinions about people getting engaged or married too soon. Because of this, Larissa was going to keep all of her opinions to herself and cross that bridge when she got there.

“You did a great job acting in front of my parents by the way. Keep that up and the next week will go by smoothly.” Larissa was looking at you as you spoke now. She smiled and brushed the backs of her fingers over your forehead before she smiled and kissed you there.

“Anything for you, dear…” Larissa smiled softly hiding the bit of pain she felt at you seemingly not wanting to marry her the way she wanted to marry you.

After a bit more talking, Larissa suggested it was time for bed. She fell asleep quickly with her arm slung over your waist. Unfortunately you couldn’t sleep. You took the opportunity to slip from bed, checking Larissa to make sure she didn’t wake.

You now found yourself outside on the porch swing so you could think some more about the entire situation. The guilt was almost debilitating. You had always shared everything with your parents, no matter how odd the outcast experience. Now that you arrived at Nevermore, you were realizing that the secrets you were harboring were growing.

You did want to be with Larissa. Forever, in fact. You were so confident about that feeling, you would marry her tomorrow if you could. Larissa’s life all all too structured, however, and you needed marriage to fit on a timeline so Larissa knew you would be there for the long haul.

Headlights turning up the driveway pulled you from your thoughts. At the sight of them, Dolly, the cat who had once been keeping you company, now scurried off under the front porch. Your thoughts of your family and Larissa maintained their place at the forefront of your mind, so when Sarah stepped from the vehicle, you only felt apathetic towards her.

“Thought I could find you out here, fiddleleaf.” You hadn’t heard that nickname in a while. It was a reference to a kind of fern you had once told her about and the nickname had stuck, “Waiting up for me?”

You never knew where she got her confidence with you. Even when you would have fights or share your hurt feelings, she would walk back in like nothing ever happened. Sarah must have known she wasn’t welcome on the front porch, so instead she leaned against the railing in front of you.

You had still been silent, not wanting to speak to her, so she kept going, “You can’t just run away from me. We have to talk about this. I know you’re still hurting and I’m not sure what this rebound is abo-”

“Rebound?” Your voice was filled with venom and Sarah knew she had struck a nerve.

Larissa was now standing by the screen door, lurking in the darkness. She had noticed you missing in bed, but when you hadn’t returned, she assumed that you were still upset about your parents. She had been about to walk outside when Sarah’s truck pulled up. It wasn’t her intent to come down and eavesdrop, but now that she was here, she couldn’t help herself.

“Yeah, rebound. We broke up a 5 year relationship a year ago. It’s impossible to move on so fast. I mean, is she a coworker? Did you just beg her to come here and play fiancé? She isn’t even your type.” Sarah was beginning to remind you of why you weren’t together anymore. She always thought she knew you better than you knew yourself.

“She isn’t my type because she isn’t you.” You deduced from her words, “Right? Is that what you are trying to tell me?”

“Come on, Fern. You aren’t meant to be apart of that outcast world. You are practically a normie like the rest of us. What is she anyway? A werewolf? A vampire? You’re gonna get hurt.”

“Spare me.” You growled. You feel the anger rising in you. You were offended on so many different levels. The type of your powers didn’t make you more or less of an outcast and regardless of Larissa’s powers, she would never hurt you.

Larissa was even a little shocked by your tone and words. She could only think of a couple times where you had been angry enough to use that tone with her.

“Ooh… Finally grew a spine at that school? Rowan been training you or something?” Here she was, the real Sarah had emerged.

“Something like that.” You shrug giving a flash of a smile to really twist the knife.

“I hear she is your sugar mommy. Run out of money or something? She’s too old for you, fiddleleaf. Don’t you miss all those good times between us? You remember that one time we took that late night drive to the creek?” You did remember. You went skinny dipping and she fucked you in the passenger seat afterwards. It made you miserable to remember a past without Larissa.

Larissa felt a small pang of hurt beginning to spread through her. Everyone keeps talking about their age gap, where it had never seemed like a problem back at school. Were you and her really so naive?

You wanted to say something that hurt her, but she was always so good at ignoring your words, “I haven’t thought of you since last summer. Even now, you are a faint whisper of a memory that I want nothing to do with.”

“Come on, Fern. Let’s go for a drive. We can talk this all out, maybe even head down to the creek.” Sarah stepped up onto the side of the porch, leaning over the railing a bit to get closer to you. Her hands reach out a bit. Long ago, when you rocked in this chair and she would come over, you would lean over the railing and kiss her. You imagined she was trying to tempt you with a recreation of that memory, “You are so beautiful… I remember the way you would-”

“Stay away from me.” You use a foot to keep the porch swing still, not wanting to rock any closer to Sarah.

Your words ignited something in Larissa. While she knew you could handle yourself, Larissa knew that she had an intimidating presence where you were far too sweet looking. She pushed open the screen-door, calling for you as she walked outside, “Fern, are you out here, sweetheart?”

“Tight leash, huh?” Sarah hissed as she stepped down off the porch, creating some distance between the two of you. You didn’t know why you wanted to prove so badly to Sarah that Larissa was incredible. You wanted her to hurt at the fact you were so happy without her.

Larissa came into sight and you fell a wash of relief tumble over you. She flashed you a smile before turning to Sarah. You listened as she used her signature, ‘I hate you but I’m the headmistress’ voice, “Well if it isn’t Sarah McCarthy. What brings you here so late in the evening?”

“Hard to ignore the siren song.” Sarah’s eyes never left you.

“Isn’t that the truth?” Larissa smiled with a nod and took her seat next to you. Dolly stuck her head out at hearing Larissa’s voice and found her way back between you both so she could be near the shapeshifter. You could feel Larissa’s possessiveness exuding from every pore in her body, “You know, when we first met, Fern was just so alluring. I couldn’t keep myself from her. I would find fake paperwork and even kill a few plants just to have a reason to go see her.”

You knew what Larissa was trying to do. You couldn’t take your eyes off her. You were so delighted that she was out here with you now, but Sarah seemed to take it as a challenge, “I know exactly what you mean. I remember all of those evenings with her parents trying to win them over before we even started dating.”

“That must have been wonderful. James and Diane really are a delight.” Larissa seemed unfazed which, from the look on Sarah’s face, was upsetting for your ex.

“Y-Yes. Yes, it was…” Sarah paused a moment. In that time, you leaned over and rested your head on Larissa’s shoulder. Larissa brought a hand to your cheek and turned her head to kiss the top of yours. Sarah knew she wasn’t winning this time, “I think it’s time I head home.”

“Perhaps.” Larissa nodded with a wide smile. Her leg began rocking the both of you on the chair and she turned to you, almost pretending Sarah wasn’t there, “I was thinking tomorrow we could go riding. You could show me how to ride a horse.”

“I would love that.” You smile in response, but your eyes were down on the little cat who laid purring between the two of you. Sarah walked away without another word, taking the hint that you were both too enamored with one another to even recognize her presence any longer.

Larissa spoke again when the truck was pulling out of the driveway, “If I hear you speak to you like that again, I might kill her.”

———

When you were back in your room, Larissa didn’t want to talk about what had just happened.

No, instead she pushed you onto your bed and made love to you. Your moans were so soft in one another’s ears as you tried to keep quiet as to not wake your parents. The entire time Larissa just kept whispering how much she loved you. With each moan, thrust, and ‘I love you’, Sarah was becoming a distant memory.

You slept tangled in one another’s embrace, only to be awoken to the sound of your mother, “Fern Elizabeth! Have some decency and sleep with clothes on!”

The blankets were covering both you for the most part, but your mother could see your bare back. You blink yourself awake and quickly respond, “Mom, have some decency and don’t walk into peoples rooms without warning.”

Larissa let out a snort at your statement, unable to hide how funny she thought the argument was. You turn over in bed, holding the sheets to your collarbone. Your mother dropped the basket of laundry she had on her hip to the floor, “Clean up your room. The cousins are coming today and this place is a mess.”

You watch your mothers eyes scan the discarded clothes and messy suitcases. Your eyes fall onto the purple strap-on at the same time. You speak quickly, “Get out, mom. I’ll clean it up. Just get out.”

“A mother shouldn’t know these things…” Diane closed her eyes and shook her head closing the door loudly behind herself as a sort of revenge for leaving the sex toy out.

“Fuck me…” You breathe out as soon as the door shuts. It felt like one thing after another. Is this was true adulthood felt like when you come back to live with your parents for a week or perhaps you just can’t catch a break.

“Give me a second. I need to wake up first.” Larissa smirked into her pillow at her own joke. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you had heard that joke many times before. As revenge for the terrible joke, you fake stretch to reach an arm out and mess up Larissa’s hair. She only swatted your hand away in response before turning over in bed.

You stood and fetched a sweatshirt to wear as you tidied the room and put clothes away, allowing Larissa to stay in bed. You made sure to tuck the strap away in the nightstand where no one should find it. When you finish, Larissa was finally wide awake and checking emails on her phone. You collapsed back into bed and rested your head on her stomach. She spared a hand for a second to stroke your head, but retracted it to finish the email she had been typing. Larissa hit send and dropped her phone on the bed next to her.

“What did you do with Sarah when you went down to the creek?” Larissa’s voice was quiet, almost like she was too nervous to even ask.

“Skinny dipping…” You respond. Any of those memories with Sarah caused you to cringe at how you wasted so much time with her.

“Anything else?” Larissa’s hands began playing with your hair, gently detangling and whirling it around her long fingers.

“I lost my virginity there.”

“Hmm… I lost my virginity on Vanessa Michael’s couch. She was my neighbor growing up. It was my second summer after starting at Nevermore. I was 16.” Larissa was making you feel less shame about it. You enjoyed her wisdom and comfort, “We had lives before each other, Fern. It’s okay. I never expected that you were waiting for me.”

Link to Chapter 8

[wrestlesin]

.·:*¨ What You Truly Are ¨*:·.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈• Warnings: 18+ ONLY

Tags: pet names, degradation, corruption, masturbation (f!receiving), unprotected sex, cream-pie, male orgasm, female orgasm, semi-public sex, implied compulsion, implied temporary dubious consent

Info: Repost Word Count: 2,457

Pairing: Original Female Character x Malakai Black Not proof-read. •┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Unhinged. Insane. Corrupted.

I’d been a hand backstage for months, watching from the sidelines as reality blended into fiction, twisting in a grotesque display of carnage. Whispers carried through the halls of every arena I was in, warning of the man always flanked by his disciples. Something was very wrong with him, but something about him gnawed at me each time he entered into my vision. An inky black intensity followed him wherever he went, his stoic gaze always in a broad sweep until one day he caught me staring. My stomach flipped, a strange heat spreading through my veins that made me jittery. As quickly as he’d caught me I was turning my head away and focusing down at the papers in my hand, but even still I could feel him watching. It seemed to take forever for he and his followers to leave, but when they did I finally found the courage to look upwards again. My heart was racing, my fingers trembling around the fingers as I caught sight of their backs down the hall.

That wouldn’t be the only time I found myself being stared down after that. He seemed to always be there, lurking in the sticky dark that clung to the corners of the arenas we were in. His striking white eye always catching my attention, holding it until my nerves yanked my gaze away, but each time was longer than the last. Seconds grew and the jittery fear that skittered through my bones became almost addictive; I found myself looking for him in the following weeks. Waiting for him. Then the little game stopped one evening. Each time I saw him he turned his jaw from me, casting his intensity elsewhere. I couldn’t stop staring though; I studied his outline, the way his tattoo’s peaked out from his suit. That jittery fear I’d grown so accustom too, so accepting and wanting of its warmth, had warped into something else entirely. Then he turned. His face over his shoulder, that white eye catching me where I stood. Then he smirked.

My stomach flipped as heat coursed through my entire body, pooling particularly between my legs. Worse yet I could feel that heat in my cheeks, red and blossoming even down to my chest. Once more I ripped my attention away, but instead of standing my ground and waiting for them to leave I scurried towards an empty bathroom. The door clattered shut behind me, leaving me in silence under the glow of the flickering fluorescent lights. My head swam, everything beneath my fingers feeling almost unreal to the touch. What had just happened? What was happening to me? My core throbbed as I thought back to that expression of his. He knew what was happening, he had the answers.

I tried to shake the thought out of my head, I tried to resist the way I felt compelled to go back to him. Had everyone been right? Malakai Black, a man lost to his own madness, truly was a corrupting force. I was there, teetering on the edge of my decision, too lost in my own head to notice the door to the restroom open. Then close.

Then lock.

All apprehension left my body when I picked my face up from my hands, cold water freshly dripping down off my cheeks where I’d try to cool myself off, and spotted the infectious evil behind me. He held my stare in the mirror, my breath caught in my throat. I knew I should run, I knew I should have bolted out of that bathroom, but instead I remained. His slow steps up behind me finally eased the air from my lungs, his intense attention making my knees feel weak beneath me. I simply couldn’t look away though. He said nothing at first, instead reaching forward and curling one of his hands around the softness of my neck and using it to tilt my head backwards. As he pulled I easily complied, chest now heaving upwards in labored breaths. He was pressed against me now, his hips flush to my ass as he bent me like a bow. The warmth of his fingers burned into my throat, a sensation I knew I’d never forget. “You’ve wanted this.” His voice startled me slightly, but his firm grasp on my throat never relented. My head tipped back further, forcing me to look up at him directly as he watched with a growing, sinister smile. “Say it. Speak your truth.” He coaxed as his thumb began petting over my pulse.

“I want this.” I found myself admitting beneath my breath. “Again.” He commanded while bringing his other hand to feel along the curve of my side. “I want this.” I whispered as heat pooled between my legs. “Louder.” That hand on my side latched down on my hip, yanking my hips back to press against his groin. “I want this!” I moaned out before biting my lower lip, the sound of my own wanting voice alarming me. “You just can’t help yourself. You give in so easily, don’t you?” Malakai brought his own voice down to a whisper, angling my chin to look back into the mirror as he held me. He had dipped down somewhat, placing his lips against my ear. From our reflection all I could see of him was that merciless grey orb and the smeared remnants of his personal corruption. I watched silently, mouth slightly agape, as the hand gripping my chin wandered further south to grope at my breasts through the thin blouse I was wearing. “Don’t close your eyes,” he commanded gently when mine fluttered closed, “watch.” I obeyed after a second of hesitation, watching as that hand slid further south. My pulse quickened, my stillness being broken by my legs parting on instinct. This seemed to please him, drawing a low chuckle from his throat while his finger worked over the button of my jeans. He never once looked elsewhere, even as he pushed my jeans down with both hands and I stared at his reflection doing it.

And then the soft slowness of it all ended in an abrupt shove. His hand found my hair and shoved me forward, hips pressing into the edge of the sink and my face nearer the mirror. Instead of the yelp of fear I should have had I offered a pathetic moan, my legs squirming beneath my as I tried to press back against him. “Patience, whore.” He tested the waters, almost grinning as my eyes shot up into the reflection to stare at him in shock. “Is that not what you are?” He questioned and rubbed over the round of my ass, fingers dipping into the edge of my underwear before giving a sharp slap. “You couldn’t stop yourself, you wanted so badly to come to me. You wanted guidance, discipline, purpose.” I whimpered as the sting of his hand subsided, but his words echoed in my head. He was right. “Don’t worry.” He used his knee to spread my legs further apart, most of my weight now resting on the edge of the counter as he kept my head lifted using his grip in my hair. “I’ll give you purpose. We both know precisely where you belong.”

His fingers slid down to my core, rubbing teasingly at my folds and grinning in delight as I arched back and whined out a quiet “please” in response. “What a good girl.” He cooed. “You’ve always known. You were just afraid.” Once more that gentleness vanished, ripping my panties down to my ankles where my jeans had pooled around my sneakers. The cool air of the bathroom hit my body like a truck, forcing a gentle shiver to travel up my spine. Malakai wasted little time sliding his fingers between my folds, quickly finding that little bundle of nerves he knew would make me buck against his hand. And buck I did, filthy wet and desperate for friction as the heat he’d spurred inside of me had yet to die down. I felt almost feral, carnal, with only one thing on my mind.

A brief reprieve was offered as he slid a finger inside of me, then two, and began thrusting them in and out. “Oh fuck!” I mewled quietly, but upon trying to press my head down I felt the sting of my hair being pulled back up. He wasn’t just happy corrupting me it seemed, he wanted me to watch myself fall apart. Not that I would object, my mind far gone from the morally correct answer to the situation. He knew where I belonged, he knew what I craved. Now he was giving it to me.

Pleasure. Discipline. Belonging.

His fingers toyed with me until my entire body went rigid, my lips red from biting on them. I wasn’t close enough to my orgasm as I would have liked, but it was near enough to feel its build. That’s when he pulled his hand away. I whimpered and tried to protest, thrashing slightly against the counter in frustration. “No, no, no.” He soothed and shoved me his fingers. “Look at you. No patience..” He scowled and leaned over me, bringing his fingers to my mouth. “Suck them.” He commanded despite my visible pouting. “Now!” He thrust against my ass and my jaw fell open, his fingers quickly diving in so I could taste myself on his fingers. That little shove was what I needed, just as I’d needed it before. Escalating my obedience, driving me further from reason. He stared at me in the mirror as I sucked his fingers, savoring them until I gagged on their length. Only then did he seemed pleased and pulled them from my mouth, drawing another impatient pout out of me.

“You’re greedy. Undisciplined. Bratty.” He explained. “We’ll need to change that. You’ll never be fulfilled if you can never satisfy your hunger.” I watched in the reflection in front of us as he unbuckled his suit pants and pushed them down, just barely able to see his girth spring free past my own obstruction of his figure. I could feel it though, scorching hot against where the tip dragged across my bare ass. “Ask for it.” Malakai commanded. I felt my cheeks heat up. I couldn’t bring myself to ask no matter how much I wanted it, no matter how right he was. A little bit of sense came to me then as I took in exactly what was happening.

That was short lived.

“Ask!”

He snapped and curled his fingers back around my throat, pulling me back against him once more. The thickness of his cock pressed against my skin and my core pulsed, the only thing keeping me from rubbing my thighs together being the fact that they were still being kept apart by his knee. “Tell me exactly what you want.” He growled into my ear and once more I felt my head swim off, clouds above me and the world span beneath my feet. “Please fuck me!” I cried out as the final threads of my sanity snapped under my sinful desire. “Please, I need it so badly!”

Behind me I could see his little smile in the mirror. Knowing. “As you wish.”

My fingers gripped at the edge of the sink as he suddenly bent me forward fully again, one hand in my hand as the other guided him inside of me. Every inch burned me to my core, finally releasing that thrumming heat that had been cursing me since we’d locked eyes in the hall. My jaw fell open in a blissful grin as he grabbed onto my hip, immediately finding a pace that was both slow and brutal. Every thrust shoved me into the counter, ensuring that I’d be bruised, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I choked out pleased groans with every deliberate thrust, his cock stretching and filling me as if he was what my body needed all along.

“Fuck yes..” I hissed in happiness as his thrusts started to pick up, faster and faster until the room was flooded with the sounds of slapping skin, grunting, and my own joyful, carnal groans. “Yes, more, more more!” I begged loud enough to be heard outside the door, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Only Father Malakai behind me. Using me.

Whore.

The hand on my hip moved around to the front of me, sliding between my legs and found my clit with ease. I knew he was close, I could feel it in the way his hips were beginning to stutter and his grunts were growing louder. I felt almost prideful at that, boastful even that he was coming undone behind me so easily, but as soon as his fingers began to rub at that sensitive little nub I found myself unraveling. Electricity raced through my limbs as I trembled and panted, wanton moans and half uttered pleas falling from my lips until my vision was blinded by hot white light.

He kept going through, his fingers never relenting as he rode me through my orgasm. Tears, happy tears, stung at the edges of my eyes as he kept going. Harder, harder, harder ---

And then he nearly stilled entirely, emptying himself inside of me with a few ragged, tired thrusts. Somewhere along the line I’d stopped watching, my head finally released and pressed down into the cold countertop. When I lifted my head back up, exhausted, I saw myself in the mirror. Makeup smeared down my cheeks, lips swollen, and hair ruffled beyond repair. God, I was beautiful. Slowly my gaze drifted upwards to the man half leaning over me, one hand braced on the counter next to me to keep himself upright. His own stare finally meeting mine again and this time I felt only calming, blissful warmth. Malakai’s cock slowly slipped from me and his hand between my leg slid away, carefully tucking himself back into his clothes and smoothing out the soft fabric of his suit.

I, however, did not move. My hips ached in the best way possible, my head still foggy from orgasm, and the cold counter feeling incredibly against my breasts. “Good girl.” He praised quietly and reached out to give my ass a soft, gentle rub. “You have so much to learn.” With that he walked off, unlocked the bathroom door, and slipped out. Leaving me in the silence of the bathroom.

Reality slowly began to sink in though. The entire event replaying in my head like the memory wasn’t my own. Yet this time there wasn’t a question about what I was going to do.

I knew he had so much to teach me.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Walk of Shame

Pairing: Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader

"I'm out of clothes," Bucky quietly complains, his voice muffled as he speaks into your his pillow.

"Just grab one of my sweaters," you suggest, tracing little patterns into the arm strewn over you. "Or stay here forever."

"Tempting," he chuckles, lifting his head off the pillow to face you. "But I have to go. And so do you." 

"Maybe if we're really quiet, they'll forget about us. I'm mean, do you really think they'll notice if I'm not there?"

"Will Steve notice if you're not on a three person assignment?" he rhetorically asks, reluctantly pulling the warm blanket off of him. "I'm going to say that that's a definite yes."

He sighs, sitting up at the edge of the bed to stare at the slowly growing pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room, but it's gone. He groans, remembering how he left his clothes in the laundry room as an incentive to actually do his laundry. 

It wasn't until a few days ago that he realized that he probably had more clothes here than in his own room. Now, he doesn't even have the option of putting on his wrinkled clothes from the night before. 

Most nights, but especially after missions, he'd simply come to your room instead of his own. You would always convince him to stay the night instead of going back into his room to get fresh clothes. You'd tell him he could go back tomorrow morning. It was always so easy to forget why it was a bad idea, and every morning he had to face this problem. But today, the consequences of his own actions seem a little bit worse. 

He looks at your closet, slumping his shoulders as he futilely scans your clothes for something half-way appropriate for him. He checks the time - it's probably early enough that no one else will be up. No one to see him do his, now daily, walk of shame. He huffs, grabbing the largest sweater he sees, knowing it won't even matter.

He reluctantly slips the sweater on - it's just big enough that it doesn't burst at the seams the second he puts it on. "I hope you're happy."

"Me?" you gasp, your lips pulling in to contain your humorous grin and laughter at the sight of Bucky in your clothes. "What did I do?"

"You're the one 'Oh, just stay here for the night' 'You can grab more clothes tomorrow,'" he says, doing a poor imitation of your voice. 

"Tomorrow was three days ago!" you remind him, gesturing to the clothes on the floor. "I told you to do your laundry."

"Yeah-" he falters, his shoulders slumping when he vaguely recalls you saying something along those lines. "But you could wear my clothes. When girls wear a guys clothes, it's cute, when guys do it, they look like this," he complains, tugging at the material that snaps right back against his torso. 

"No one's even awake yet," you assure him. "And I think it's sweet that you wear my clothes."

"Whatever," he grumbles, lovingly kissing you in spite of the annoyed look on his face. The sweater is at least three sizes too small on him and definitely too short on his torso. He doesn't look at himself in the mirror knowing he'll lose all his nerve to walk out of the room like this. "I'll see you later."

"Love you," you call as he leaves the door in your sweater. 

"Love you too," he mutters, closing the door behind him. 

He's acutely aware of how ridiculous he probably looks. With determination painting his expression, he scans the corridor for anyone lurking down the halls. When he's certain there's no one up yet, he quickly scurries down to the hallway where his room resides. 

He's made it down the entire hallway without being spotted, all that's left is to turn down one more hallway and he's free from any embarrassing encounters. He takes a large deep breath and with the last of his nerve, he rounds the corner - right into Steve. 

"Buc- Oh... Oh, this is too good," Steve begins, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips. His eyes scan over the sight of Bucky in the pink sweater he knows belongs to you. Steve teasingly whistles, "Wow... Nice."

"Go away, Steve," Bucky grumbles.

"I'm not the one you have to worry about," Steve chuckles, nudging his head to the person behind Bucky. 

"The walk of shame?" Sam wheezes in laughter, holding his phone to take a picture of the ridiculous sight before him.

"Get that out of my face or I'll break it."

"Wait, wait-" Sam snickers, trying to compose himself enough for a joke.

"Are you guys done?" Bucky impatiently asks, his arms crossed both in annoyance and in a feeble attempt to cover himself. 

"I don't know, Sam. I think pink's really his color."

"No, I can't make a joke yet, it's too much," Sam sputters, his eyes watering from his overzealous laughter. 

"Screw you guys," Bucky mutters, moving around the two men to walk to his room. 

He walks quickly, his hands stuffed into your pockets until he reaches the sanctuary of his room. And surprisingly, it doesn't come with the same sense of relief. Before, his room was the only place he could find peace - it was safe, familiar. The feeling simply wasn't there anymore. 

Bucky scans his minimalist room. He has a plant on the windowsill, but other than that, his room is almost entirely devoid of any of his own personal touches. If he didn't know any better, he'd think it was just a spare room. Even his toothbrush that sits on his bathroom sink isn't the one he uses everyday anymore. No, his spare that was currently placed right next to yours was getting more use than the toothbrush residing in his room. 

He finally peels off your sweater, quickly dressing with the few remaining clothes he had in this room. Once he's dressed and ready for his mission, he decides to make a pit stop in your room. As he walks down the hallway with your borrowed sweater in hand, he's just glad he doesn't run into Sam or Steve again. 

"I was hoping to catch you before you left," Bucky says upon entering your room, barely noticing that FRIDAY doesn't even ask for authorization anymore. 

"Still here," you chuckle, finishing the rest of your braid. "You still in a bad mood?"

He huffs, a slight humor in his tone as he presses a sweet kiss on your jaw from behind you. "Well, I'm in clothes that fit me now."

"Next time do your laundry," you jokingly retort.

"Or maybe I could bring my clothes here?" he cautiously suggests, one arm wrapping around your waist. 

"If you want to bring more clothes here that's fine," you nonchalantly shrug, moving away from Bucky to pack your bag for today's assignment. 

"Well, what if I brought all my stuff here?" he not-so-subtly hints.

"But then all your stuff would be here?"

"So... what if all my stuff was here?"

"Well, then you'd be going back and forth-"

"What if we move in together and you understand what I'm saying?" Bucky bluntly asks, giving up on subtlety. 

"Oh..."

"So... what'd you think?"

"I think... " you exhale, your head lolling back and forth though you really don't have to think about your answer. You decide to put Bucky out of his misery when he starts anxiously chewing on his lip. "I think that's a great idea. But you have to move here, I just hung up twinkle lights." 

"I hung those up," Bucky corrects.

"But they were just hung up and they're not coming down," you say, dropping your bag and sidling back up to Bucky.

"So, is that a yes?" he asks, resting his hands on your hips.

You softly smile against his lips, "That's an enthusiastic yes."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series

[swagatron9]

Forgotten Innocence

A Daryl Dixon Fan Fic Chapter One:

~ Sylvia Bennet ~

My eyes stayed glued to Silas as he bent down to look at one of his many findings. His innocence is portrayed by how he lost focus on this world's dangers and concentrated on the many beauties of nature. It was bizarre to me how Silas could keep to his calm nature whilst being surrounded by the dead, but I was thankful that it was possible.

Silas picked up what appeared to be a lizard and observed the reptile. "Sylvia! Look." He ran over to where I was standing and held his hands out for me to see, but the once tame lizard scurried out of his hands when he got closer. "Wait, no!"

Silas went to chase after the little animal but stopped when I called out for him. "What have I told you? You can't run away you don't know what could be lurking." I lectured him. He shamefully nodded his head and returned back to my side. "I'm just looking out for you, Silas," I told him. I placed my hand on the back of his head and ran my fingers through his knotted hair.

"I know." He whispered. "Maybe I could find another one later." He beamed up at me. I smiled in return and placed a kiss on his forehead before ushering him forward, knowing that soon enough those freaks would be coming.

I kept a safe distance to Silas as we tracked on ahead, we were still on the hunt for food for the night. "Sylvie!" Silas pointed off into the distance where we saw a deer peacefully eating grass.

Slowly we approached the majestical creature, Silas walking faster as he appeared to be mesmerised by the beauty of the animal.

I held him back when I heard movement from the bushes. To my surprise I saw another little boy walking towards the deer, he looked over towards us and stopped when he noticed our existence. Silas and I watched as other men appeared from the bushes and stopped in their tracks when they noticed us.

The boy, now unfazed by us, approached the deer slowly. "Can I go too?" Silas whispered. I was hesitant, but after seeing the two men put down their weapons to let their little boy see the deer up close, I decided to let him go.

My eyes darted around the area, keeping an eye out for any sort of threat as Silas joined the other kid. "It's pretty, isn't it?" I heard him whisper. I couldn't help the smile that revealed itself, this scene in front of me was beautiful, and it was a moment I would remember forever.

I heard the gunshot and suddenly everything was in slow motion. A bullet penetrated the deer and stopped the little boy, both collapsing to the ground. "Silas!" I ran over to Silas as he cried at the sight of the bloody boy.

Crouching down beside the boy, I looked at his wound and saw the blood seeping through his shirt. "Help!" I called out to the men that were frozen in shock.

They snapped out of their daze and both came rushing over. "No, no, no!" The deputy cried as he cradled the boy's head in his arms. "Carl, my son!" He sobbed.

I held Silas to my side as I kept an eye on the man patrolling the area with a gun. "Be careful and try not to move him around too much. It could make things worse." I told the man. "Here." I handed him a spare cloth I had from my pocket and placed it down over the bullet wound.

A man appeared from the trees, sweat dripped down his forehead as he looked over at us. "Did I do that?" He asked, his rifle still held out in front of him.

"Yes! Yes, you did do that." The other man yelled as he marched up to the hunter. "You shot him!" He grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him close.

The hunter trembled. "I can help him." He dropped the gun from his hands and held them up to signal surrender. "There's a farm not to far from here, we can get him some help." He pointed off in a direction through the trees.

"I know I said not to move him, but you're gonna have to. Come on." I stood up, tucking Silas underneath my arm and we took off in the direction of the so-called farm.

Running through the trees, I kept my weapon close and my guard up in case of any freaks. "Sylvie, what's happening?" Silas asked as he ran beside me. "My legs are hurting." He cried.

I let out a sigh as I stopped running and bent down so Silas could hop on my back.

Finally, we broke through the trees and ran into the open grass field. I could still hear the man crying for his son as he struggled to hold him up. "Would you like some help-"

"No, how far? How far!" The deputy yelled at the hunter.

The hunter, practically collapsing on the ground from exhaustion panted, "Another half-mile that way. Talk to Hershal, he'll help your boy."

The other two men got left behind as the deputy and I ran ahead, it was only when we reached the farmhouse had I realised what exactly I was doing. The second Carl had got shot I had let my guard down completely, instead of grabbing Silas and running away I stayed and helped, and now I had Silas on my back potentially leading us head-on into danger.

The people living in the house walked out, some had weapons in hand as they watched us come close. "Was he bit?" The oldest man shouted.

"I- he." The deputy stammered as he tried to talk.

"He was shot. We were told to find Hershel." I answered for him.

Everyone ran inside whilst I waited out, allowing Silas to hop off my back. "Is he dead?" He asked.

"He'll be okay." I smiled as I caressed his cheek.

"And the deer?" He questioned.

I shook my head at his innocence.

"That deer is long gone," I mumbled.

~

Silas happily ate the food he was given whereas I poked around at my own. The family was generous enough to give us some food and water, but I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Silas was the one to be hit. Unlike Rick and Carl, Silas and I didn't share the same blood type, leaving the two of us at a greater disadvantage.

"Excuse me, can I use the bathroom?" Silas asked Maggie. She pointed him in the direction that he needed to go and then it was just the two of us left alone.

The silence was loud as we awkwardly sat together. "He yours?" She spoke up.

I shook my head. "Nah, my brother." I answered quietly.

“Oh.” The silence this time was filled as the young boy in the room screamed from the bullet fragments being removed. “How long have you known them.”

“However long we’ve been here then probably 10 minutes before that. Don’t even know one of their names.” I replied.

“Oh.” Maggie once again replied and we fell back into that tense silence.

[axoxtxhxh]

First Date with the Vets - Erwin

Big shoutout to @chaotic-nick for making this lovely banner for me!

Overall Summary: I had this idea to do a first date with the vets and what it would be like. I am including Erwin, Levi, Miche, and Hange in this list. Each date will be different, but all of them will be set in modern au.

Check out Miche’s story here, Levi’s story here, and Hange’s story here

Pairing: Erwin x Fem!Reader

Content: Nearly all fluff

Word Count: ~ 6,100

Summary: Reader is on her way home to get ready for her blind date when she runs into a handsome stranger on her way home. On her way up to her apartment to get ready, the elevator breaks down with her and the handsome stranger stuck inside.

You were a little over a block from home, nearly running with your small bag from the convenience store clutched tightly in your hand. You hated running late. It didn’t really matter what the scheduled engagement was, you made it a point to always be the first one to show up. Today’s engagement was no different, but leave it to you to rip a hole in your pantyhose as you were getting dressed.

Your best friend, Fen, had set you up on a blind date with one of her co-workers. You hated blind dates, not to mention Fen had terrible taste in men. She had been begging you to at least meet him for a couple months now, but you kept finding reasons not to. The last time she asked, you ran out of reasons. So here you were, running back home ten minutes before he was supposed to arrive. With any luck, he will be as terrible as you expect and show up late, maybe not at all.

You turned down an alleyway, trying to save time by cutting through the side streets and picked up speed seeing your apartment building up ahead. The shortcut was quickly turning out to be a bad idea. There was only one streetlight all the way at the end and you couldn’t see anything, especially the puddle you barely missed, splashing dirty water on your leg. Perfect.

You rounded the corner quickly, ready with your key in your hand to unlock the lobby entrance when you slammed into the back of a large body standing in front of the door. Pushed back by the impact, you dropped your keys and bag on the floor, the cheap convenience store pantyhose rolling to the feet of the person you slammed into.

“Oh gosh. I’m sorry.” You reached down to pick up your stuff when the hand of the person reached it before you. A very large, strong hand with perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around the small plastic case of your pantyhose, holding it up to you.

Your eyes followed up his long arms. You could see how well-built he was even through the brown suit jacket he wore over a white button-down shirt, the top buttons undone so you could see the top of his strong chest. He had to be at least 6’2. Tall and broad.

“It’s my fault.” His ocean-blue eyes sparkled as his lips curled into a smile revealing his bright, white and honestly, dazzling smile. You almost giggled at the sight of him. “I shouldn’t make a habit of lurking in doorways.”

“It’s—uh, it’s not a problem.” You smiled, your eyes locked with his while you fumbled with your keys. Any other night. Any other night you could have stayed and chatted with this handsome stranger. But instead you had to race upstairs to finish getting ready. Your miserable Friday night was getting worse.

You finally fit your key into the keyhole and got the door unlocked, pushing it open. The handsome stranger helped you, holding it open and holding his hand to his stomach as he gestured you through. Damn, he even smelled good.

You moved quickly to the elevator, pushing the call button and trying not to focus on the handsome stranger following closely behind you.

“If you’re going to anything lower than the fifth floor, you might as well take the stairs,” you recommended, looking up to him, “this elevator takes so long, you could probably get there faster by walking.”

“I appreciate that information.” He smiled, pulling out his phone and clicking quickly, scrolling through. You used the opportunity to look at how you looked through the elevator doors.

What a hot mess you were in that moment. Your hair was a mess, your face red and sweaty, the bulky man’s coat you grabbed quickly on your way out the door hung on you like your dad’s t-shirt when you a child. The only redeeming thing about your look was your skirt. You had just bought the camel pencil skirt you were wearing a couple days ago, finding the high-slit a bit too sexy for your office, but it worked perfectly for a date night. The bottom hem shared the same dark stain from the rainwater as your legs and shoes did.

You sighed. Your shoes. You had on some old sneakers, knowing you needed to make the quick run to the store. It could have been that cute sexy-casual look if your shoes had still been white. Now they were brown and grey and smelled like a wet dog. Any chance you had in imagining this Greek god standing next to you would give you a second look were thrown out the window.

You could now see how well he was dressed. He had that dark academia look about him that made you weak. His slim-fit tweed herringbone pants accentuated the length of his legs and somehow made him look even taller, his blonde hair perfectly parted and smoothed back. He looked up from his phone and put it in his pocket.

“Looks like I’ll be taking the elevator with you.” He turned to look at you. “If you don’t mind the company.”

“Of course not.” You smiled back, biting your lip to hide your excitement. Maybe the night would be picking up after all.

The elevator dinged and the doors creaked open shakily. He held his arm out again, gesturing you inside first. It was honestly a bit unfair at how much of a gentleman he was. You dipped your head down and scurried in to hold the doors for him.

He stepped in after you and you pressed the close-door button, followed by eight, your floor. Turning to him, you noticed him staring at the buttons and asked which floor he needed.

“Eight as well.” He put his arms behind his back, and looked back at the door. You turned to face the door, mirroring him as you thought about which lucky woman on your floor was getting a visit from him. Possibly lucky man? Either way, someone was going to be having a great Friday night.

You filled your cheeks with air, puffing them up as you tried not to let yourself glance at him through the elevator doors. The building was old, the elevators dark, but it really was only the two of you and you were sure it seemed pretty obvious that you were staring.

Your eyes moved up to the numbers indicating which floor you were passing. Still only at the third floor, you let yourself peek at him from the corner of your eyes then turned your whole head when you thought he was staring at you. It turned out, he was only staring at the numbers and he quickly turned his eyes to you when he saw you turn to look at him. Damn it, you did that uncomfortable thing. You smiled and hoped that you seemed friendly and not creepy and stalker-like.

“You were quite right about the speed of the elevator.” He chuckled, a low hum that vibrated off the walls. “It’s exceptionally slow.”

You looked back at him, his teeth gleaming even in the darkness of the elevator. Was he trying to make small talk? You smiled to yourself at the attempt, assuming that’s what it was.

“It’s a pretty old buil—” The elevator slammed to a halt and cut your sentence short, both of you falling back. You reached for the rail next to you to brace yourself. The elevator lights flickered before turning off, seconds passing before the emergency lights came on.

“I take it that’s not supposed to happen.” You turned to him and shook your head.

“This is not happening.” You said aloud, more to yourself than anything. You were already running late and now this? You moved to the elevator buttons and started pushing them randomly, knowing they wouldn’t work, but hoping that your frustration was enough to get it started.

“I’m not getting a signal.” The man was holding his cell phone up in the air, trying to get a signal. “Do you want to try yours?”

You nodded and pulled out your cell phone. No bars. You tried holding it up, not reaching nearly as high as he was able to and finally trying to jump a little, trying to catch the reception you hoped sat at the ceiling. The man just stood there smiling at you until you finally noticed and you quickly turned away to hide your embarrassment.

“Maybe the phone here.” You opened the phone box to check inside only to find it empty and you dropped your head. “Damn it.”

This was even worse than how you had already thought your night was going to go. You checked your phone. You were definitely late now. Not only late, you were trapped in an elevator with no way of alerting someone that you were even there at all. Maybe Fen was right. Maybe you should have spent more money to move to a newer apartment building. You loved your little block though. Your apartment may have been old, but it was cute and had character. It was quiet on the weekends and it made the commute to work so much shorter than where you used to live. A cute apartment wasn’t helping you then though.

You heard a small sigh come from behind you and you turned around to see the man sitting on the floor. You didn’t think you were giving him any sort of look, but he stared at you for a second and then jumped up.

“My apologies.” He stuck his hand forward towards you. “My name is Erwin.”

“Y/N.” You took his hand which was surprisingly soft and gentle for someone his size.

“Y/N.” Erwin repeated. “Well we might as well get comfortable. I imagine someone will figure out the elevator stopped running soon enough.”

He sat back down on the floor, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing one foot over the other. He set his hand down on the area next to him and looked up at you.

“Would you like to join me?” He smiled and there was no way you were saying no to that.

One hour passed by remarkably fast. The two of you sat on the elevator floor and chatted about your jobs and where you grew up. At some point, both of your stomachs were growling and you opened up your big purse, pulling out some water and snacks. Erwin’s thick eyebrows lifted as you continued pulling out exactly what was needed.

“I like to come prepared.” You smiled shyly, hoping he wasn’t judging you.

“What else do you have in that magical bag of yours?” He scooted closer and you pulled out a bouncy ball, an old bus pass, your work keycard and a folded piece of paper. Erwin took the ball and the paper, opening it up and reading.

“Thirty-six questions to fall in love.” He held it up. “This is something you need to have with you at all times?”

“My friend gave me that.” You both laughed and you tried to grab it, but he pulled it away quickly.

“A friend, huh?” His eyes scanned over the first couple questions then looked at you. “I might be interested in asking you some of these questions.”

“Me?” Your eyes went wide. Why would he want to ask you any of those questions? You had to admit, you hadn’t actually read any of them when Fen gave you the paper, but if it’s about falling in love, you were sure the questions were about marriage and children. Why would Erwin want to ask any of those?

“I am a bit short on other participants.” He gestured around to the empty elevator. “Even so. You seem like you have a lot going on in your head.”

You looked up at him. This night was already a bust, stuck in an elevator with a stranger, albeit an incredibly handsome stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Why not reveal all of your insecurities, past boyfriends, career failures and whatever other strange questions that paper had.

You turned your body to face him, lifting your legs until you were sitting cross-legged and placed your hands on your knees.

“Fine.” You took a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

The rules were simple. You each ask each other a question, alternating who asks and who answers until all the questions are asked an answered. It was important they are done in order because they get increasingly more personal. After all questions were answered, you and your partner are to stare into each other’s eyes for four minutes.

You couldn’t even say that was easier said than done because it really didn’t even seem all that easy just saying it. Four minutes? You’ve never looked into anyone’s eyes for longer than a couple seconds. This doesn’t even touch on the fact that these questions were going to get more personal as you moved. The only thing that made this even remotely worth it was knowing every question you had to answer, Erwin had to answer the same one and you would be lying if that wasn’t exciting you.

…..

“Number three. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?” Erwin set the list down in between you as you thought about the question. It didn’t really require that much thought honestly. You were a highly anxious person.

“Yes.” You nodded once and smiled. Erwin waited for you to keep going, but you just stared at him and then remembered. “Oh right! I ask the next one.”

You picked up the paper and Erwin took it from you, holding it above him and laughing at you as you let confusion spread across your face.

“It’s expected you also answer why.” He explained. “The idea is to get to know each other.”

“Yes, but I thought the reasoning was obvious.” You pointed out.

“Not to me.” He lowered his hand, setting the paper down as he watched you fiddle with your fingers.

“I find it almost necessary to practice it. Otherwise I’ll stumble over my words and get confused.” You admitted, shifting uncomfortably. You looked up and smiled, trying to pretend you weren’t as uneasy as you looked. “I bet you don’t have to do that.”

“I think we each have our own insecurities.” His smile was so understanding it had you biting your lip and looking down quickly, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I appreciate you sharing your answer.”

…..

“Number eight.” You paused as you read the question to yourself, a small gust of worry running through you. This definitely meant he was going to look at you. “Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.”

You cleared your throat, keeping your eyes down on the paper, trying your best not show how uncomfortable it was going to be to have him staring at you. You could already feel his gaze. Was he looking at the dirt on your legs and skirt? Was he critiquing how messy your hair was or how your shirt didn’t match the rest of what you were wearing? Maybe he was judging your feet and your choice of socks. You looked down, making sure you did, in fact, shave your legs.

You couldn’t handle it anymore. You let your eyes slowly look up at him, meeting his stare. He was sitting cross-legged, his chin resting on his fist which was propped up on his knee, the smile on his face had a flush of warmth rushing to your cheeks and swirling in your chest.

“To start, I think we both care quite a bit about how we’re perceived by others.” He leaned back on his arms, straightening his legs out, his left leg brushing against yours and you shivered at the warmth. “We have a similar sense of fashion. I also have that same coat.”

He pointed to your jacket laying on the floor and you looked over at it, taking the moment to look away from him and gather yourself. He was quiet and you wondered if maybe he didn’t realize that was only two things in common. You turned to look at him.

“You’re supposed to name three.” You reminded him, looking at him with your eyebrows together. He smiled.

“I would stake a guess that we’re both big rule followers.”

…..

“Alright. Number thirteen. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?” He set the paper down in front of you, going back to resting his chin on his fist, a position you were beginning to realize was his go-to.

“Hmm…” You thought about it. There was no way you would ever want to know your future. You did that once at a carnival and you had anxiety for the next year over it. “I guess I would want to know the truth about myself.”

“What about yourself?”

“I think I would ask if I was a good person.” You nodded slowly. “Yeah, I would want to know if I am a good person.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A good person.” He laughed.

“That’s what I would ask. I don’t know.”

“Well what is a good person?” He sat up straight. “To you. Your definition.”

“To me?” You were fiddling with your fingers again, a nervous habit that you often did when you were feeling eyes on you. “I guess someone who tries their best to be helpful and kind to everyone equally.”

“I think that’s a fair definition.” He nodded and you picked up the paper. “Do you do those things?”

“The things I listed?” You knew what he was getting at. He nodded. “Yeah.”

“So you have a definition of what a good person is and you’re already doing those things. Why do you need to ask a crystal ball if you’re a good person?”

“For confirmation?” You honestly had no idea. Why did you want to ask that? Erwin had a point. “I guess I don’t feelgood enough?”

“But if a crystal ball told you it was enough, you would believe it?” It all sounded so good in your head, but when you put it out there and he repeated it, it sounded like something a child would say.

“I guess it sounds kind of dumb when it’s said like that.” You laughed uncomfortably.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.” He put his hand on yours and you shivered at the warmth and looked up. His eyes looked so concerned.

“No, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad for saying it. I just realized it sounded bad out loud.” You both laughed at your apologies. Erwin rested his chin back on his fist.

“I was just trying to say that if something as simple as a crystal ball was enough for you to believe you were a good person, would you believe me if I told you?”

“This is only number thirteen.” You smiled. “Are you sure you know me well enough?”

…..

“Fifteen. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?” You put the paper down in between you both, the space that was beginning to grow smaller as you each moved closer together.

You were both getting increasingly more comfortable with each other as the questions got deeper and more personal. You had removed your shoes, scooting closer to Erwin while he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, moving closer to you.

Erwin looked up, thinking about the question. You’ve been enjoying the questions more as they went on, making Erwin think a bit more each time before answering. It gave you time to admire his face, his perfect bone structure, his incredible blue eyes, and the way he liked to tap his finger on his lip when he thought about things.

“I want to say deciding my career path.” He looked at you and it made you smile. “I thought I would… I was expected tofollow in my father’s footsteps and become a teacher, but I chose my own path. I’m happy with that.”

“What do you like about your current job?” You asked him.

“I like my job because it gives me the freedom to continue things I have interest in, like teaching kids about finance.”

“Wait.” You held your hand up. “You are proud of not following your father and being a teacher so that you could get a job in finance just so you could teach kids finance?”

“It certainly sounds silly when you say it like that.” You both laughed.

…..

“Twenty-nine. Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.” You put your hand out and Erwin took an M&M from it, tossing it in the air and you caught it in your mouth, the only way you were allowed to eat them then, a rule you made around question twenty.

“Okay, I have it.” Erwin chewed his M&M you tossed him and continued. “When I was interviewing for my current position, I had never been to the building before that so I wasn’t familiar with it. The whole building is, in essence, a big glass box. It’s all windows, even the doors just look like large windows, but not the tinted ones. These are the completely clean and nearly invisible windows. As I made my way up the steps, I thought it was an open floorplan without any doors, so I just walked forward and stepped straight into the glass.”

You threw your head back with laughter and quickly tried to cover your mouth so he wouldn’t feel bad, snorting into your palm. Erwin smiled at you, his hand brushing over your waist before dropping to the ground.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized. “That’s a very understandable mistake. Honestly. It’s not so bad.”

“Yes, well.” He continued, a small smile on his face. “I also did it on my way out the building after the interview.”

You were roaring with laughter now. You tried your best to cover your mouth, but even your eyes were watering. You put your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, but dropped your face there until you could calm yourself down enough.

“I’m sorry. Really. I shouldn’t be laughing at you for that.”

“It’s quite alright.” He bit his bottom lip before quickly smiling. “It’s worth it to see you smile.”

…..

“Question thirty-one. Tell your partner something that you like about them already.” Erwin set the paper down. It was quite amazing actually. You had only been in the elevator for a couple hours. You’ve only known Erwin for a couple hours. Looking at the way he set the paper down, how he was holding his face, barely looking away from you, slowly sitting back against the wall, his hands rubbing over his thighs to wipe the nervous sweat from his palms, he was uneasy. You could see it. Even knowing him for such a short time, you could already tell what he looked like when he was nervous. Thinking about it made the corner of your mouth turn up in a small smile.

You had a feeling he would expect the obvious things. He was a gentleman, he was honest, he was kind, he spoke well. You wanted to give him something to make his eyes shoot up to meet yours and to make a small smile grow on his face.

“I like that you helped take this really terrible situation on an already crappy Friday night and made me have the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” His eyes shot up to look at you, a small smile growing on his face. Bingo.

…..

You laughed, blowing air from your mouth as you tried to hold it in, giving up and throwing your head back with a loud laugh. Erwin was smiling at you, his cheeks coloring pink as he absentmindedly slid his hands over your waist.

It was too embarrassing, too cringy, too intimate for someone you just met and you were sure even if you knew each other well, it would be just as awkward. You managed to calm yourself down enough, still letting out puffs of air and giggling every time the discomfort crossed your mind.

“Let’s try again.” Erwin spoke softly, shaking your hips a little as he smiled.

“It wasn’t embarrassing enough that you want to do it again?” Your eyes went wide.

“I just shared thirty-six highly personal pieces of information about myself. What’s four minutes of looking into eyes as beautiful as yours?”

Your jaw dropped open, bottom lip moving up and down as you searched for something to say. He was flirting, that was definitely flirting. The idea of a man like this flirting with you left you a bit speechless. You finally just sank back, smiling shyly as you looked at your hands.

“We don’t have to.” He leaned his head to the side to look at your face. “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s okay.” You looked up at him. The idea of a man like him flirting with you might be unbelievable, but this whole situation was a bit unbelievable and while you were living in a dream, you might as well really live in it. “Let’s try again.”

He smiled and it melted your insides. You weren’t a confident person naturally. There were a handful of things you could confidently say you didn’t overthink, but the majority of the time, you were always second guessing everything you did, every decision you made. So when you decided to sit yourself on his legs in front of him, hands resting on either side of his thighs, you were just as surprised as he was, his blue eyes peering into yours as his eyebrows dropped and he let out an exhale.

“Start the timer,” you instructed. He didn’t even look down at his phone as he started the four-minute timer from zero. He dropped a quick glance down to your lips and brought his eyes back to yours, a small smile played on his lips.

You weren’t brazen enough to sit on his thighs, your butt rested comfortable on his shins and your upper body leaned forward towards him, but the new shift in position gave you a confidence you didn’t have a moment before.

His phone let out one small beep and you smiled. One minute had passed. You held his gaze, noticing him licking his lips, his tongue fliting out and the tiniest lip bite before he rested his lips in a smile. You shifted in your spot and his hands inched their way to yours. His first finger getting there first, wrapping itself around your pinky and you smiled, encouragement to have the rest of his hand follow.

A second beep from his phone and he rubbed his hand gently up and back down your forearm. You sat yourself a bit closer, lifting yourself off his legs and slowly scooting forward until your butt rested on the cushy muscles of his thighs. His hands connected with yours until they slipped free and rested on your waist, sliding back and roughly grabbing the extra meat of your hips. He blinked slowly, licking his lips and you felt like your heart would beat out of your chest. He raised his knees, sliding your body down his thighs and pushing you up against his chest, your faces barely an inch apart.

You couldn’t help but smile at him and he brushed your hair from your face, his hand cupping your jaw while his other hand brought your body even closer to him. His eyes moved to your lips, looking away from your eyes for the first time since the four minutes started.

You rested your palms on his chest, feeling just how firm, yet soft it was before letting yourself lean in to press your lips tenderly to his. It was like electricity shooting through your body at the contact and your hands quickly moved to the back of his head, pulling him in. He must have felt the same way because his hands slid up your back to keep you in his lap and resting against him.

You moved your lips slightly against his and he opened his mouth, teasing your lips with his tongue until you opened your mouth. He didn’t push his way in, his tongue waited for yours to meet him halfway before he started exploring the cavern of your mouth. You panted against his mouth. You were amazed that he still tasted like minty toothpaste, even after all the snacks you both ate and you wondered if your breath had any remnants of anything fresh, but the pull of his hands to bring you closer had you thinking it couldn’t be that bad.

His hand slid lower down your back, the touch giving you chills. He timidly ran over your hips, and moved back up, settling on your waist. You slid towards him a bit, your hips barely lifting up before resting back in his lap and he groaned, a deep rumble that echoed off the walls of the elevator and vibrated through to your own chest.

You smiled. Your lips pulling away from his, but your hands remained in his hair, brushing through the blond locks now entirely out of place. He sighed, looking at where his hands were resting on your hips. He moved one of those hands to your cheek and leaned back in to kiss you as the four-minute alarm on his phone sounded and you both jumped, laughing quietly.

He turned back to you and continued leaning in, his hand moving to behind your head as his lips reached yours.

“Hey! Is there someone in there?” Someone called from outside the elevator. Your eyes widened and you stood up.

“Hello? Yes! We’re stuck!” You called through the doors, hoping your voice was loud enough. You turned back to Erwin, grinning with excitement and he stood up, fixing his shirt sleeves and moving behind you.

“Alright! We got a guy who can open up these doors.” The man called from outside.

You stepped back, directly into Erwin’s arms and he held your shoulders. The contact with him made you turn around to look at him. He had his suit jacket back on and you remembered your shoes. The man that was outside started prying open the doors and you grabbed your shoes, sliding them on and picking up the things from your purse that were scattered along the ground.

In the corner of the elevator was the small plastic capsule of your pantyhose and for a moment, you froze. In the time you were stuck in there with Erwin, for a short amount of time you had completely forgotten about your blind date. The man probably waited for hours only to hear nothing back from you. Guilt was starting to settle in. Even if you didn’t want to go on the date in the first place, you weren’t the kind of person to just leave someone hanging like that. And the whole time you were in here enjoying yourself with Erwin. Well, you may have been trapped, but knowing you were having fun with someone else made your stomach fill with shame.

You stood up, having collected all your things and faced the elevator doors. Your mood shifting entirely from only moments before. Erwin had grabbed his things and put his shoes back on. You could see light coming from the slowly growing crack in the elevator doors and you squinted a bit as your eyes adjusted. Erwin moved closer to you, his arm pressing against yours as he leaned in.

“Y/N, I…” You looked up to him.

“Alright, that’s it. You guys can come through.” The man told. Erwin pressed his lips together in a smile.

“After you.” He gestured. You stepped through the elevator doors onto the landing of the sixth floor.

You only had a couple floors to walk up and while you could have done it alone, it was nice walking with him. That is, until the realization hit that you were only going to be walking with him for a couple short flights of stairs, after which, you will say your good-byes and most likely never see each other again.

There really wasn’t any way this man wanted to see you more than the forced three hours he just had to endure. You sighed to yourself. That thought coupled with the mixture of guilt for your blind date was enough for this Friday night. When you made it to your floor, you opened the stairwell door, made sure to hold it for him and quickly hurried to your apartment and unlocked the door.

You rushed inside, closing the door behind you and resting your head against the door. That was fun, but there was no way it was going further. Your date may have been cancelled at this point, but Erwin still had time for whatever rendezvous he had planned. Just the thought of you kissing him without knowing anything about who he was coming to see was making you cringe.

Beyond that, there was the notion that your kiss would lead to something and that was embarrassing enough. You didn’t need to stick around after that. To think that anything else would come of it was a lot of pressure and expectations on him just to fulfill your little girl fantasy. You both got caught up in the moment and that was it. There was nothing else to it. You took a deep breath and set your bag on the floor.

Walking to your dining room table, you pulled out your phone to call your friend. You may not have wanted to go on that blind date at all, but forcing the poor schmuck to wait hours for you without even a text was unfair.

As you unlocked the screen, you saw twelve unread messages from Fen and quickly looked through them.

[6:30pm I just spoke with him. He’s on his way to your place now.]

[6:38pm I guess I forgot to mention how punctual he is.]

[6:38pm A lot better than me, right? XD]

[6:45pm What are you going to wear?]

[6:50pm You’re so lucky you have a friend like me to set you up on dates for a Friday night.]

[6:51pm He just texted me. He’s at your place]

[6:51pm Why aren’t you answering your bell??]

[6:52pm You’re not standing him up, right? Please, he’s so cute!]

[6:54pm Someone let him in. I told him your apartment number. You better let him in!]

[7:15pm I haven’t heard from him so you must be out. Why aren’t you texting me??]

[7:16pm I guess that must mean you’re having a great time!]

[7:24pm I just ate a whole pack of Oreos.]

Your heart was racing. Someone let him in? You checked the time of the message. Someone let him in around the time you were letting Erwin into the lobby. Your jaw dropped, your mind hurrying through your thoughts.

You didn’t have time to think about it because your doorbell rang and your head shot up from your phone as your heart nearly leapt from your chest. Hesitantly, you set your phone down on the table, letting your mind believe what you were hoping was true. Before you could overthink it, you walked to the door, unlocking it and turning the knob, taking a deep breath before pulling the door open.

Erwin stood there, his jacket back on, shirt straightened and hair back in place.

“I—uh… it looks like I’m your date for tonight.” He smiled nervously at you, his phone in his hands with Fen’s name on the screen. “If you’re still interested, I would very much like to accompany you to dinner.”

You were still interested. You were more than still interested. What were the chances that the man you enjoyed so much time with stuck in an elevator was the date you were supposed to meet all along? You made a mental note to thank Fen because, for once, she was spot on with this match. You smiled broadly and pretended to think about it, playfully tapping your finger to your lips in the same way he did when he thought.

“How do you feel about having dinner at my place?” You stepped back a bit, opening the door wider.

“I think I’d like that very much.” He stepped inside and you closed the door.

[delu-jean]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧: 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐔𝐩 𝐓𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮

(Jea x fem!/reader) -> Angst -> 4.2k 

XII > XIV

You and Reiner picked some flowers. They lay in one of the baskets you brought. They sat beautifully, making you reminisce the night Jean had given you that violet. Though these flowers were a lot larger, and the hue was more vibrant, the meaning behind that violet shone brighter than those characteristics combined. You grinned at such a thought, while Reiner kept on climbing the tree. 

You felt bad since you weren’t helping him gather the apples. Someone needed to hold the basket, making sure they didn’t touch the ground. Since the tree was becoming more barren as the years passed, the less fruit it would bear. So, you had to make sure no apples went to waste. Still, watching him do all of that hard work made you feel guilty. He reassured you (before), saying that it was better for him to actually do something right (since he trampled a lot of plants when picking flowers). So you let him be. Watching as each fruit fell. 

“It’s been a while...do you remember this place, Y/n?” 

“Of course I do…” you then gazed at the scenery in front of you. Being reminded of that one moment, that last moment you had felt such peace in Marely. The moment where Bertholdt had scurried to get you, the moment where you never thought that things would take such a turn. 

You looked at Reiner to see the guilt which struck him. Not only that, but the guilt then crept onto you. That peace was one which could never come back, along with Bertholdt himself. You felt burdened to say the least. Knowing how his best friend had died, yet not being allowed to tell him (since Jean’s cover would blow). It saddened you knowing how much weight was on his shoulders. Never knowing what had truly happened, but instead, escaping with survivor’s guilt. 

“Ah, two coming!” 

“Got it!” you caught them in your basket. Time passed as more apples stacked. He then decided to break the silence once again. 

“Do you ever wish that we could be kids again?” 

“Of course I do,” he nods in agreement. 

“If I could change one thing...just one of the many things in our childhood...it would be the fate we held in the military. Wishing things could have been different, and that you all could’ve been here,” you noticed how he didn’t say “we,” but instead said “you.” That meant he had wished you were all here, but not necessarily himself. You were going to question him, until he spoke yet again. 

“For Bertholdt to see such a sight. To see how grown the both of us have become, and...to see his family...just once more. Maybe even confess to Annie if he had the guts to,” you saw the pained expression he had which made you feel the same. 

“Bertholdt would be happy for us, especially since we’ve grown so much with the time given.” 

---

“Yeah...I guess so,” he then picked the last of the apples and came down. In the process, one of the better apples fell, cracking with the contact of the ground. Funny enough, it reminded you of Bertholdt. Since he unfortunately was one, if not, the sweetest apple. One who just had to fall far from the tree above.  

You both stepped into your house. Feeling tired as your arms limped, along with Reiner’s. You started to look around, wanting to see if Jean was at home. Lurking through the bedroom, and even checking your closet. Unfortunately (for you) he wasn’t. It’s almost as if he was gone with the wind. You felt a little bummed as Reiner stepped into the kitchen. Placing the baskets down, and washing his hands (readying himself for the session yet to come). He then asked you in a loud tone, hoping you would hear. 

“What are you doing Y/n?” 

“Oh, I’m looking for a pot!” you shouted back. 

“In your bedroom?” 

“Haha, yeah,” you were still feeling upset...but then remembered that you were the person who told him to leave (secretly regretting it qwq). 

You then walked over to Reiner, ready to help him make the pie. You both washed the apples, peeled, and chopped them. Reiner was a little klutzy with the knife, handling it like a weapon in battle. You found it quite funny, and guided his hands. Hoping he wouldn’t cut himself. To your surprise he didn’t, and ended up seasoning the fruit with different spices, sugars, and ingredients. When that was done, you put him in charge of kneading the crust. You (of course) mixed and measured the ingredients, and after doing so, told him to be gentle with the dough. Hoping his rough hands would maintain, and not ruin such a delicacy. 

You started to heat the filling as you monitored him from afar. He really was a quick learner, yet still needed to work on some of his skills. You wondered how Jean would’ve made the pie. If he would’ve added his own flare, or crust designs. Just thinking about it made you excited, hoping you both could someday. Reiner then started to roll, and place the crust. You both then finished your tasks. Thrilled with the results of your hard work. 

“Phew, thanks for your help Reiner.” 

“No problem. That was...a lot harder than I thought it would be.” 

“Mhm...oh yeah! I left some filling here for you. I tasted it and thought it wasn’t sweet enough, but I kept it that way since you know...Bertholdt preferred ‘natural’ sugars,” you smirked as Reiner tried a spoonful. 

“Haha, yup. Reminds me of Bertholdt. Also it's really tasty.” 

“That’s good! Okay, let’s put it away now,” you put both the filling, and crust away. Letting both rest separately so you could bake them tomorrow (before meeting the families). 

“I’ll pop it in the oven before leaving.” 

“Sounds good. Thanks for letting me help...or contribute at least. Sorry if I was a nuisance.” 

“Haha no, thanks for helping in general. Two pairs of hands are better than one, and you gave loads of help,” he then smiled, slipping his coat and shoes on. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” 

“No, I insist. I’ll come instead. You’ve been walking me home a LOT as of recently. Let me come get ya instead,” he seemed hesitant when you answered. Not sure as to why, you tried asking hoping you could hear his reasons. But instead he pestered you, insisting on grabbing you instead. Now you could understand Jean (in some way). Not being able to understand him directly...was making you feel frustrated. Not only that, but you weren’t able to understand why he was acting like that. 

Regardless, you eventually gave it. Though you found it suspicious, you decided to say no more. Not wanting to add tension, and instead, respecting his choice. 

“Okay fine. Get me near ten-ish?” 

---

“Alright, sounds good.” 

You got up, did your morning routine, got dressed, and had a filling meal. Each year, you and Reiner didn’t wear anything formal. Rather, you both stuck with a simple semi-formal outfit (didn’t want to be too formal, nor too casual). You never wore the same clothing, but rather, switched it up while trying to stay coordinated. This year, you decided to match in white, and beige. You wore a dress shirt, your sleeves puffed, filled with lace, two ribbons (on each side), a beige skirt which reached your legs, and a straw hat. While Reiner wore a beige cardigan, beige slacks, a dress shirt, along with a fleece vest. Though it was a semi-hot day, it was hotter than cold. So he decided to hold his cardigan for the majority of the time. He also brought a black leather watch, and a brown fedora (type of hat). You decided not to go all out since you wanted your interactions to seem civil. Nothing up top to make the families feel comfortable. 

You first went to the Galliard’s. Porco was home and didn’t seem happy with Reiner being there. Though there was some awkward tension, Reiner did his best to ignore any dirty glances. Trying to remember this visit wasn’t about Porco, but instead, Marcel. 

“You know, Marcel was a boy with less aspirations for himself, but instead for the people around him,” Mr. Galliard stated. 

Last night, Jean didn’t make his way back. You were a tad sad. Not being able to sleep with him there...felt unnatural. You really didn’t feel at ease in your own home. Constantly wondering where he was, if he was okay, or if he really had business. You honestly weren’t sure, but regardless, tried sleeping since today was important. 

“I never saw my son as a child, rather, the embodiment of an adult. One with the thoughts, and responsibility of a grown man. I felt, and still do feel guilty though...he never got the chance to be one. To experience the childhood he should have.” 

“Mhm,” you nodded after he said that. 

“I truly regret not making him live the life of a child, and it pains me that he was instead forced to be an adult,” his wife then put a hand on her husband’s. Giving him a stare out of grief, yet relief as she then eyed the both of you. 

“If my son had seen where you both are, he would be proud. He would be amazed with the work you both put in, and know that we are as well. We’ve seen the work Reiner puts in with Porco, doing his best to serve Marley with their titans. Along with you, Y/n. As you encourage and guide the Eldians to be the best they can. Both in the battlefield, and themselves personally. We truly are indebted, and hope you two will continue in the work you do for as long as possible.” 

“Ah I see, I’m glad our efforts have paid off. I have to agree though, Marcel truly was a great person-” 

“Tch,��� Porco snarled as his mother then elbowed him. Reiner then continued to talk. Telling the three about the gift chosen, how you both thought it would suit Marcel, and who he was. Not just a comrade, but a dear friend as well. The pendant shone beautifully, and had a glint just like Marcel’s. The framing around the jewel caved around like it was a crown. Smooth, and precise edges, along with a clean finishing. The back also had an engraving of his name, along with leather straps which could detach. Framed in the box it came with and accompanied by two letters. 

“You can read them whenever you would like. Although, I do recommend doing so when alone,” you told them, and then made your way to the door. Porco decided to escort you out. Though both you, and Reiner expected a cold gesture, he instead gave you an unexpected one. 

“Thanks...for the gift. It means a lot.” 

---

“Yes of course, no need to thank us,” Reiner responded for the door to then shut. 

You both went to Annie’s house, hoping her father would be home. To your dismay...he wasn’t there...like always (on that day specifically). You tried knocking the door yet again, but to your “shock,” there’s no response. You see...on this day specifically, he refused to see either of you. He knew that your gestures were filled with good intent, but just...couldn’t bring himself to do it. He would always see you both whenever else, knowing that the topic wouldn’t arise. 

“Let’s get going...Mrs. Hoover is expecting us.” 

---

“Got it...Y/n.” 

Still, it saddened you to say the least. The poor man was so hurt, and he couldn’t bring up the topic. Though you wanted to console him, even with the time given, it seemed like it wasn’t going to happen. You placed the box on his doorstep, leaving a note telling him of the gift, and why you chose it. Hoping he would keep it with him, and store it safely. 

“Ah Y/n, Reiner! I haven’t seen you both in a while! Come, come inside!” Bertholdt’s mother said, for the both of you to enter their house. Pulling out chairs while her husband did the same. His father then started to brew tea, while the three of you (Reiner, you, and Mrs. Hoover) sat down. 

“How have you been?” 

“And I as well,” Mr. Hoover then placed the tea. The two lovers smiled at each other, and then sat beside one another. You were glad they weren’t in tears, nor upset. His parents (surprisingly) seemed to have taken his death unexpectedly. Not as something light hearted, nor sympathetic, but rather...very “well” in your opinion. They mourned when you had returned with no trail of Bertholdt, but got themselves together. Making good of his passing instead of sulking. 

Reiner then pulled out the basket of apples, handing it to them. While you showed the bouquet full of flowers. You also held the pie in your hands while his mother went to grab a vase. 

“It looks lovely Y/n, I’m assuming you used the apples?”

“Oh, I’ve been well,” you responded. 

“Yes ma'am. Bertholdt’s favourite.”

“Speaking of my dear son, my one and only child… Oh how he loved such delicacies. I wish I made him more when he was with us. Not only that, but he was one himself, and I wished we would’ve handled him with more care. Being more fragile with such a thing….” 

You see, his parents were really invested into the whole “Honorary Marleyin,” and “warrior candidate” events. They just wanted their son to exceed, and to know that he could go above and beyond. But in said process, instead of doing that...it gave the opposite effect. Making him feel less if anything. He knew they loved him, but their encouragement...seemed more discouraging to Bertholdt if anything. Disregarding his feelings, and thoughts to the opposition, convincing him that he was strong enough and could do it. 

Never considering his doubts, nor fears. Instead, brushing them off and telling him he could excel. There was no comfort whatsoever, instead, expectations and tension which were burdened to him...and him alone. 

“That was probably why he was so timid...because of how we treated him…. I truly do regret such a thing, but I was relieved to hear how he was a great and loving person to the both of you. Even if we didn’t get what “we wanted” from him, he received the things that he wanted for himself. Pushing himself to his limits, and persevering...without us.” 

“Yes, he truly was an amazing person. The closest friend I’ve ever had,” Reiner said with a sincere tone. The father then stepped in, saying: 

“Bertholdt would’ve loved to see how you both had grown to be so mature, understanding, and great in general.” 

“Since he loved you both so dearly, he also would’ve been glad at the decision you two are making, about becoming one. Also, congratulations on that. I hope you both have the happiest of times while you can. Though, I won’t lie, I wished Y/n were the one to marry Bertholdt (she said jokingly). But even so, I’m happy for both of you. Reiner, you’ve got yourself one lucky lady, and Y/n, you a lucky man.” 

“Yeah...I guess so,” Reiner responded. 

---

You then thought to yourself. Would Bertholdt actually be content with the engagement? Though his mother had thought “yes,” you had thought “no.” He probably would’ve opposed, saying that the marriage would’ve been pointless, and unsettling. That being the case, his opinion gave you yet another reason for your opposition. 

You both were done for the day, and were relieved for that. You were glad that two out of the three were there, liked the gifts given, and that you were able to show respect towards your comrades. So being that, you both were now walking. Yes, your destination would be home, but you weren’t sure as to what detours would be made. Both you and Reiner actually. One thing you were sure about, was that the man beside you seemed frustrated. Even though he should've relaxed since your tasks had just finished. 

“Y/n, I don’t want to assume...but…were you the person who might’ve leaked things?” 

“Oh...no. It wouldn’t make sense for me to, in all honesty…” 

But then at the same time, she might’ve assumed so because of how long you were taking. Thinking you must’ve made a decision (by now) and just didn’t want to be vocal about it. Of course, that wasn’t the case and you made it clear to Reiner. He then decided to switch up the conversation, trying to avert from the unwanted thought. 

“I forgot to ask, but were you able to get home safely that night?” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“That means...oh gosh,” that’s when you both realized that the only person who could’ve, and would’ve done so...was his mother. You also remembered what Alexandra said, about his mother being ecstatic about the engagement. That point secured your thoughts. She was probably very excited, and had no malicious intent involved. She just wanted the best for her son, and you as well (thinking Reiner was the best for you). Regardless, it kind of annoyed you. Especially since you hadn’t made the decision, and she inferred you had instead of asking/confirming. 

“That’s good.”

“And you?” 

“Yeah, I did. I walked Gabi home first, then made my way.” 

“Ahh I see,” yout both walked further for him to ask:

“Where were you the morning after? I thought you’d be at HQ, like you always are.” 

“Ah well…” you couldn’t tell him about Jean, so instead, told him about Alexandra. 

“Well, a friend of mine came over. We caught up and….” you couldn’t say that you were talking about him (his looks to be more specific), so instead, brought up the first few things which came to mind. 

“She um, congratulated me.”

“Oh really?” he seemed glad and you went on. 

“Not only that, but that most of the town knows…and that your mother seems ecstatic.”

“Oh no…” You then saw a burdensome look on his face. 

“Haha yeah. She also asked if I had a wedding dress, or ring. Which I found kind of funny-” He immediately cut in. 

“So what was your response?” 

“That I have neither.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Hm?...the real question is, what do you mean Reiner?” you then stared at the gentleman, awaiting for his answer. 

“Oh...it’s just that...you do have one.” 

“What?..” 

“Not a dress of course, but a ring.” 

He then Proceeded to tell you that he did have one ready. He felt guilty knowing that you had told her “no.” He thought that maybe you had felt bad, being that your answer was “no,” even though he did have one prepared. After all, ladies did take marriage as a big deal. And even though it was one out of friendship, he didn’t want to make you feel left out. Being considerate of such a big event. 

Though you could’ve (and most likely would’ve) married someone after Reiner, it still was your first wedding. And your first anything should always be taken seriously. 

“If I knew you were going to be bombarded with the other ladies bothering you...I would’ve given it sooner,” he fished a box out of his pocket, and handed it to you. 

You then opened it to see a fairly modest design. It was a simple gold band. One with a centered jewel in an oval shape. There were also two other smaller stones which accompanied the ring, and the band sat in a black, velvet box. It was a very beautiful ring, and Reiner could tell you liked it (based on how you sat in awe). He was glad he got such a ring, knowing how simple you could be, and that it seemed to suit your personality. 

“I’m sorry for not being able to get you better, but I hope that it’ll be enough for you to show other ladies. And hopefully...you don’t feel the need to humble yourself when with others,” you could feel the sincerity coming from him, and were thankful. But...you ultimately just...couldn’t accept such a gesture. 

“I’m sorry Reiner...but I can’t accept this.” 

“Oh, why is that?” 

“I just...can’t,” he then took the hint, and instead asked: 

“Is it because you aren’t sure yet?” you then nodded, not giving him anymore context. He also did the same. Nodding and letting you be. 

“But I insist...you should keep it.”

“Oh, really? And why is that?” 

“Well haha, my mother will pester me less. But of course, only if you want. If not, I can take it back. I understand your decisions, and will respect them for when you’re ready.” 

---

“You know what...sure, why not,” you didn’t want to be rude, and you also wanted to be less of a burden.

 After receiving the box, Reiner does what he thinks is best. He shields you from others on your walk through town. Although they found his gestures quite adorable, he thought the opposite, but was glad there was no attention regarding the ring. Covering the box made you tense less, and his efforts were greatly appreciated. He understood the townspeople's intentions, but didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.  

“Hey reiner...when it comes to deciding, how much time do you think I have?” 

“According to what my mother said...maybe a couple months. That is...if you want to have a um...child of course. If not, really whenever. As long as I don’t die,” he chuckled and you nod, laughing yourself. 

“I see, well...I’ll be sure to relay my decision whenever.” 

You took notice of how tired Reiner was. His eyes drowsy, posture limp, and in general, was very out of energy. You decided to halt, stopping in front of him. Making his pace lessen as you stood still. 

“Why do you look so tired? I know it’s not because of any drills,” you laughed as he looked to the side. 

“Don’t worry too much about it...it’s nothing.” 

“Yeah, of course.”

“Come on Reiner...tell me! I feel like I play a part in it…. I’m not sure as to what, but yeah,” he then looked back at you. Though he contemplated his thoughts, he decided to be honest. 

“Okay fine. As of recently, I've been pushed around by my mother, a couple elders, along with the civilians, and troops in general. Meeting whenever my mother arranged things, taking the time to accept gifts, being congratulated, and having conversations even when I don’t have the time. Though it should be fun, it’s really not. Especially when the warriors are on my ass for being late, and then I show up to meetings with a bunch of gifts. At first they were okay with everything, but as time progressed, they were uh...pissed with my appearances.” 

You felt bad. Your delay was really taking a toll on Reiner, yet you felt like you couldn’t give him your answer. The pressure was immense, you would be letting people down, and the Braun’s would be in an awkward (gossip-ish) position after your rejection. But then again, you didn’t want to marry him anymore. You had Jean now, plus, Reiner was only doing his best  since he wanted to make things right. Being your friend, trying to help build a future that might satisfy you when he’s gone. Imagining you living alone without benefits he could’ve provided, made him feel guilty. He already put you through so much, and although this wasn’t a huge step to redemption, it was one skid closer. 

But honestly, you cared less (for the marriage, not his efforts). If you said no, the entire thing would be off his plate. Yet...you felt bad seeing how much effort he put in. You saying no would mean all of that effort being drawn to waste. You then decided to ask him what he would do with both responses. Towards both rejection, and the acceptance of his proposal. 

“Reiner...what would you do if I said yes?” 

“To my proposal?”

“Mhm.”

“Well I would marry you,” he smirked at such an obvious question. Not making fun of you, rather, just pointing out the obvious. 

“Oh...yeah haha. Anything else though?” 

“Maybe have a child...I mean of course, like I said...it’s up to you” seemed embarrassed to bring up the subject, which made you laugh. 

“Okay...then what would you do if I said no?” 

“Honestly I’m not sure, but, if that’s what will make you happy, so be it. If you want to love someone else, I won't stop you. If you want to love yourself, and you alone, I will support you. No matter what you do...I just want to be a good friend is all. Make up for all I’ve done.” 

Just through that, you saw how serious Reiner was when taking this path to redemption. Though, not in the way you would have both envisioned, he was truly trying his best. Being a good friend, and doing his best to get you what, and where you needed to go. You were very touched by his sincerity, and words in general. Reiner was truly a great friend. Though questionable at times, and it would take time for you to wholeheartedly trust him, he was getting there. And would probably at one point. 

“Thanks Reiner.” 

“No need to. I’m content either way, so it’s really up to you.” 

XII > XIV

[mangekyuou]

                           NOVEMBER TWENTY-EIGHTH ━ﾞ

⁺◟   PROMPT . . .           “why did you run away?”

⁺◟   CHARACTERS . . .           edward newgate           trans male son!reader ( ftm )           mentions of the whitebeard pirates

⁺◟   GENRE . . .           angst           fluff           comfort           platonic           oneshot

⁺◟   SYNOPSIS . . .           the whitebeard pirates dock on an island           all too familiar to ( y/n ), that makes his           blood run cold just at the sight. things get           worse when an old name he never wished           to hear again reaches his ears.

⁺◟   CONTENT WARNINGS . . .           mentions of transphobia ‘ intentional           deadnaming ‘ alluding to child abuse

⁺◟   WORD COUNT . . .           1.5k.

⁺◟   COMMENTARY . . .           i do know that november is long           gone but i wanted to at least finish           the event. i think this is among my           favorite things i’ve ever written.

          ( d/n ) = dead name

A distant hoot of an owl accompanied the gentle chirping of the crickets that scurried across the hard ground, through the high grasses and domestic flowers. 

What seemed like a hundred fireflies, shined dimly over a small pond somewhere deep in this huge forest, on this barely explored island. Though barely explored, a small port town had formed on its edge, leaving the the rest unexplored territory for the many creatures big and small.

Who knew what was in these woods, lurking in the shadows, crawling around all over, sniffling on the eroded pond bank-

A young boy sat on the eroded shoreline of the small pond, his eyes focused on the shallow waters before him, as he brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He watched the fireflies move from the reflective water, as he seemed deep in thought.

His eyes both red and puffy from crying. At some point, he had no tears left to cry and could only let out dry sniffles, as he tore himself apart from the inside. The young boy’s clothes were a bit tattered, the fabric catching on nearby trees as he ran as fast as he could through the forest just hours ago, ignoring his brother’s cries and calls for him to stop. But his legs did not stop, he continued. With each step, he felt himself fall further into a deeper despair, one that he knew his brothers would never understood...one he knew Pops wouldn’t understand.

( y/n ) reached for a blue necklace that mimicked a blue cross with a crescent curve jutting out from the bottom around his neck, fiddling with it between the tips of his fingers as he remembered when he joined the Whitebeard Pirates.

A petty thief.

That’s what he was.

A thief who stole from the rich and gave to the poor...sometimes, when he wasn’t on the brink of death, as he traveled the New World alone, as a runaway. All he had were the clothes on his back, a bow, a few arrows, and the name he clung onto for dear life. It was not enough to keep him going for much longer.

By chance, ( y/n ) had gotten wrapped up in a group of pirates he had no business with. When he had prepared for death, a man as tall a building back from where he came from how towered over his captors, a weapon at his side and a rather annoyed expression on his face.

He remembered the fear in his eyes, the trembling in his body as he recognized the man.

Whitebeard.

His captors were long gone, leaving him all alone. As the giant man was about to ask if he were okay, the young boy took his bow and two arrows, aiming them at the giant. His trembling, sweaty hands made his bow shake in his hands, showing just truly how terrified he was.

He could even remember his stuttering voice.

“Don’t...don’t pity me. I’ll...I’ll put these right between in your eyes, old man!”

 Whitebeard could only give a hearty laugh, making ( y/n ) lower his bow and look down at the boy. He could see a bit of himself in ( y/n ), being able to almost read him.

“Where’s your home....son?”

Son...

No one had ever called him that before.

Hearing a complete stranger say it...it felt almost freeing. He felt a joy he never felt before! He felt like had finally escaped! He felt validated!

He was valid. 

 He hadn’t even noticed Whitebeard continuing.

“You don’t have a home, do you?”

His answer was met with a shake from ( y/n )’s head. Without a second to spare, the giant reached out his hand, “Join my crew...become my son.”

And he took it. He kept to himself at first, fearful of his new brothers and the people they were. He had seen many of pirates just like them, who had only hurt innocent people. Though his feelings quickly changed after getting to know them.

They were a true family.

Then why did he run? Why did he ignore their pleas?

It was this island...his homeland in which he had run away from years ago with nothing. When the island had come into view out from the deck of the Moby Dick, he froze as the color drained from his face. That was when Whitebeard first noticed his son’s strange behavior.

As the ship had come to a stop, decking in the port, ( y/n ) kept his head low, hiding behind Marco like a child as he stayed quietly mostly. When the usual teasing of his brothers began, instead of laughing like he usually did he was tense, biting his quivering bottom lip, brushing them off, becoming distant. Until Ace being his usual playful self had told his brother to lighten up and gave him a soft punch on the shoulder and ( y/n ) snapped.

“I CAN’T LIGHTEN UP! I’M BACK HERE AGAIN!”

Regret set in, as he covered his mouth. He didn’t mean to yell at Ace, he didn’t know, and he wouldn’t understand. When he reached out to his brother to apologize, a voice sounded from behind him, a familiar voice that was the cause of his deepest fears and darkest nightmares.

“( d/n )? Is that...is that really you?”

He had become even more tense. His dead name.

( y/n ) saw the confused faces of his brothers and his father, as they looked at the owner of the voice that stood only feet away from them.

“Oi! I think you got the wrong person. There’s no ( d/n ) here.” One of his brothers questioned.

The panic that had already settled in his chest began to rise, knowing what was going to happen next. The fear of his brothers and his father knowing the truth about who he was...who he used to be. Would they respect him? Would they treat him differently if they knew?

Would they call him a―

He ran, ran deep into the forest and now he was here at the pond. 

He could hear the crumbling of leaves from behind him, making him reach for his bow, as he peeked over his shoulder. A familiar giant came into view, making him drop the bow and look back to the pond, seeing himself in the reflection of the water.

“There you are,” Whitebeard spoke, “Why did you run away?”

His son stayed silent, making him sigh. The giant man sat down. He placed Murakumogiri next to him, as he looked at the fireflies floating above the pond, “You have a knowledge of this island. Is this where you were born?”

( y/n ) hummed as a response.

“That person who had came up to us, do you know―”

“STOP!”

He dug into the fabric of his pants, tears beginning to form again, “Please just stop, Pops.”

“I won’t understand unless you tell me. I can’t know what’s wrong unless you open up to me.”

A brief silence sounded between the father and son until ( y/n ) spoke, “Did...did that person tell you all anything?”

“They seemed just as confused as we all were. After you ran off, they distanced themselves from the boys who were giving them glares. They didn’t say anything after saying that name.”

“Pops...?”

“Hmm?”

“I...I wasn’t...born like this.”

“Like what?” He questioned, he already knew what ( y/n ) had meant. He had known for a long time, however it was never his business and kept it to himself.

Tears began to flood down his cheeks, “That name...is my old name. They were looking for me because I ran away from home to be my true self. To be...a man. I was born female, but I...I never felt that I was female but they told me that was possible. They told me I was wrong, I was just dumb, I was just not in my right mind, I was just sick! I’m not sick! I’m not...crazy!”

The young wrapped his arms around himself, “Do you think different of me now?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Whitebeard’s mouth, as he climbed back to his feet, grabbing Murakumogiri. He extended his hand to the boy whose back had faced him.

“You’re still my son, ( y/n ).”

( y/n ) snapped his head over his shoulder, “Pops...”

“It doesn’t matter who or what you were in your past. It only matters who you in this moment. And in the past, you may have been someone’s daughter. But in this moment, you are my son. There is nothing that will stop you from being my son, ( y/n ).”

The father petted the top of his crying son’s head.

“Thank you, Pops. I’m...s-sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. We’ll keep this between you and I, unless you want to tell the boys.”

He shook his head, “Not now...I’m...I’m not ready.”

“And that’s okay. Whenever you’re ready, they’ll be ready to listen. We’re a family, ( y/n ).”

⁺◟   BACK TO NAVIGATION . . .

[kaetastic]

Secrets Not To Be Told

pairing: Lucius Malfoy x Pureblood!Slytherin!Reader

summary: Draco invites his circle of friends to his manor for an allegedly said-project. This brings a friend of the boy into his father’s attention. [requested: @queenofmankind​]

word count: 3k

warning: fluff, cheating, smut, fingering :)

note: the only reason i made the reader a slytherin and pureblood is because i needed her to be in the draco circle if you know what i mean. i hope this is alright! thank you so much for this request!! i truly love lucius <33 i think after posting one more request i’ll be closing it for awhile to spend more time on my posts :3

The scurrying of petite feet grazed across the stone floor, squeaking a screech every time the bare skin of the creature slapped the ground. Although the manor had been exceptionally cold the past week, the temperature had wrapped a blanket of icicles around the walls of the once a cosy home. If that ever existed with the infamous beliefs of the previous and current owners. 

The floppy ears of the elf danced with every stomp of feet he took, bouncing into the air just like that of the choreography of his heart. Arms swinging by his body, he could hear his heart thrum against his eardrums. Almost as if someone had plunged their fingers through his chest to pluck out the pumping organ. There was nothing else pinned on the board in his mind, just the change of events. Need to tell Master. 

The words echoed in his head, a reminder for him to get to the desired room as soon as possible. Even though the creature had been serving the Malfoys for longer than he could count on his hands, he couldn’t help but realize the different personalities of each owner. However, the ground remained stable with the current master. Slightly more merciful than the previous ones. The elf couldn’t help but shudder at the memories of being bruised to punishment. With the tainted thoughts of those who he had served, he passed a second to slam his head in the frigid wall. Bad Nory. Bad, bad Nory.

The elf barely had time for his lungs to increase to its maximum capacity and his head to digest what he was to do, his boney knuckles rapped against the wooden door. As the noise echoed into his ears in surges of wailing, no different to that of his spilt tears the night before, the creature finally understood what he had done. There wasn’t any time for him to waste by sprinting away to leave the master to be answered by silence. 

Master Malfoy had ordered a clear instruction; this issue was to be solved with the towering wizard of the home. Running away was an option, but the elf couldn’t see himself walking away from the scene without punishing himself. No sound seemed to seep out of the cracks of the sealed door. With a gulp, the elf took this as a reply. So, with his blood vessels quivering set an energetic speed, he opened the door with a creak. The noise that indicated the ancient hinges lingered in the air, longer than he wanted it to be. Almost as if it was to taunt him of his grievous mistake. Was it a mistake if he was to inform a sudden issue to his master?

“What is it?” The man who occupied the lavish green armchair practically hissed, his words swerving out the cracks of his teeth in a body of a slithering serpent. Even when he had found comfort in the tranquillity of the air, nothing fell into place to his desire. 

Lucius was a lucky man, some would say. The pureblood wizard had inherited money which seemed to be an endless body of water, the main reason why he had found no need to occupy a job. However, the demands he had asked, such simple ones, was of no use. His son had dragged his friends to the manor, individuals Lucius had approved of as their status. 

The pureblood wizard wished for the school his son had been educated at, to find the true meaning of blood. Blood purity. There would be no use of those with half-poured blood of muggles while the other half were to be species who held great power in their hands. Not to mention the wavering group of barely a tint of magical blood in them. Draco would have his fun while his wife had occupied herself in Paris. The beginning of Christmas looked fun as Lucius was left alone.

There was no need to wait for the creature to bring up its excuse to its... excessive, boisterous noise of walking. No matter the times the wizard had scolded the elf for creating such irritating sound, the habit was ingrained in the creature. 

“Master, Nory is sorry,” The elf stuttered, its eyes blaring onto the polished ground before it brushed over the overlapping strings of the carpet. “There’s a woman at the door, she said she’s Master Draco’s accompany.”

Lucius’s eyes snapped to the quivering elf, his peripheral narrowing onto its raggy clothing. Placing down the crinkling newspaper, he clicked his jaw, “I only assume that you have brought her inside because we treat guests at our utmost respect,” The elf watched as honey dripped from the wizard’s lips. Not sweet honey, never sweet honey. Venom embedded honey. The viscous liquid was ready to pierce blades. “Bring her in.”

Nodding (almost beheading his own head at the incredible speed), the creature’s feet echoed into the tranquil air, “Come in, come in.” Lucius listened to its muffled hearing before the noise of shuffling of feet amplified into the dining room. 

Towering over the elf was a figure, the cloak heavily rested on her shoulders, “I’m sorry if I caused any problems. I’m Y/N, Draco had invited me.”

Lucius quirked his eyebrows at her accent, “Draco came in with his friends.”

“Oh, yes,” Y/N let out a faint laugh. “There were some problems that needed fixing, so I was late.”

Lucius noted before standing, his stride towards the door halted to stand next to the witch, “Well then, I’ll show you to Draco.” The creature was long gone, knowing its presence was not needed by the two. 

Silence sang in the air, only their steps mumbled into the long hallway. Long for Y/N; a short path for the man who had grown in the manor. The same hallway his father and previous generations had sauntered through, “You’re not British, are you?”

Y/N couldn’t help the quirk of her smile, “No, I’m not. I’m a transfer from Ilvermony.”

“Your blood?”

“Pure.” That was all Lucius needed.

Lucius munched on the gentle texture of the egg, its creamy yolk caressed the muscle of his tongue with every so softness. Just the way he liked it. The bright yellow paint smeared against his porcelain teeth, cladding around to cover the source of sparkling glitter whenever the wizard was to shoot a smile. Not a smile of joyfulness because lately, life had been lacking in supplying said-happiness. Everything seemed to rather get on his nerves; no one seemed to comply with the pureblood wizard. Something that had infuriated him. Almost as if they had mocked him. 

With the freshest Daily Prophet hovering on the table, blocking his view of the wide-opened door, he was too caught up on grazing his eyes over the lines of the commotion of giants. Just kill the lot if you ask me. The wizard couldn’t help but curl up the corners of his lips from his thought. While he showered himself in the enticing idea of him ruling over the wizarding world (too brutal of gushing blood to clean out the bad blood), Y/N made way into the dining room. 

Too lost in the golden imagination, she took the time to take in the room. It was like no other. The rest of the house, those she had only stumbled into, of course, had been rather gloomy and full of lurking shadows compared to this one. While she had enjoyed her time in the Malfoy Manor, most of the moments of exploring the vast home with the owner’s son, she couldn’t help but be in doubt to why the room had been more... brighter. 

“My wife wanted more light,” Lucius answered the question she had quirked up in her head as if he had read her mind. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, had she said it out loud? With a flick of his wand, the swooshing noise of the newspaper slicing through the air to land its back on the grand wooden table crackled. “She said she could barely see what she was eating, hence this.” Following his gesturing hands towards the window wall that had been adorned by curtains that had been hugged at their waists to prevent it from closing, Y/N hummed. The morning light glistened through the glass panes, streaking lines of golden paints against the sombre-coloured table. 

The dining table was long, separating the dining room into two halves equally. Despite the enormous room, it didn’t feel spacey at all. There were clusters of iron armour statues decorating the walls, alongside moving paintings of landscapes and what Y/N would assume were family. Pushing the table aside, the twinkling chandelier was a sight to behold. Its arms, no different to that of an octopus. Teardrops of creatures that resided in the body of water draped from each rod, singing a faint song with every quiver despite the room being impeccably still.

“So, may I ask what you’re doing in my home?” Before she had the chance to think of what she was to do, a faint chuckle fell off her lips.

“Oh, right. It seems I had forgotten an item of mine.” 

Lucius quirked his eyebrow, “Well, wouldn’t it have been easier for you to just send an owl?” 

Y/N scratched the nape of her neck, “I have, it seems Draco had not received it.”

The wizard nodded before the clanking of metal slamming against ceramic echoed into the dining room, “Come, where was the last place you’ve left it?” Y/N was sure, with him being a pureblood- it would’ve been easier to accio the lost item. She didn’t question.

“Are they your family?” Y/N quirked up, slicing a blade through the thick air. Now that she had noticed, the hallway had not been occupied at all. Just the head of the family and her. Well, she wasn’t sure where Draco would be as Lucius had informed her that he was to do additional training.

“Yes, they are.” Lucius answered, the words lingering longer in the air as his eyes grazed over the paintings. The green wall had been plastered with squares of paintings and moving pictures. It would surely be just a cluster of dots if viewed from afar. The heads of similar blond hairs had tint features of what had been passed on onto Lucius. No doubt, it was his parents as the young Lucius sat on the chair with their hands planted on his shoulders. Oh, to be young again.

Turning her head to face the man, she inquired, “What were they like?”

Lucius pondered, a second of silence poured into the air, “Loyal.” Despite his short description of his family, Y/N knew it was more to it. There was never just one adjective for pureblood parents. However, she didn’t even bother pressing onto the manner. She gazed upon his eyes grey eyes.

The still air she once had cut into two loaves of bread had tightened around her chest as her lips rested on his. Her fingers hovered over his chest, awkwardly quivering at the peculiar position. Lucius saw a coat of darkness while his body had been leaning on hers, his ears fed with the sound of their lips; his tongue had been given a treat of the taste of her. Y/N watched as the familiar absence of light entered her peripheral, holding a sheet between her sight and her.

Although it had felt as if she had been snoozing off to the lullabies sung by the devil, she was soon shaken to her core at the realization. Yanking back to snap the sudden noise of their lips ripping away from one another, she stared at the towering man, chest heaving, “We can’t...”

“Why not?” Lucius questioned, eyebrows shooting up as his eyes narrowed at her.

A minute passed, and she had no answer to his question. Maybe it had been the captivating man who had sucked out all of her ability to grasp on reality. Or air was just not enough to supply her head, “I’m Draco’s friend, and you are his father-“ She hated that she stuttered. However, it had all to be blamed on her intermittent flickers of thought to come up with a reason. A reason to push away the man. A reason to stop him. 

“You are of age, aren’t you?” Y/N nodded, though, quite reluctantly as she feared for what he was to say. 

“Still, isn’t this wrong?” The words squeezed out of her throat, almost as if she didn’t want to say it.

“Nobody has to know.” Although the first thought that had popped up in his mind was his wife who was possibly sauntering on the roads of Paris, it was soon wiped off from existence as the familiar warm puffs of air-filled every crevice of his mouth. The wizard’s hands crept up, fingers trailing from his side to gingerly grasp her waist. 

Nothing was uttered in the air as the two lost themselves in a rhythm they soon fell into. With her hands plastered on his shoulders, she couldn’t hold back the shudder when her fingers grazed over the chilly ornament on his neck. The pureblood wizard pulled away, his eyes brushing over her confused orbs, “Not here, come.”

Breezes of wind kissed his skin, piercing an inch of skin as if a missed arrow that had somehow managed to caress his cheeks. Lucius didn’t know how fast he had paced towards his room. Maybe it had been a foolish thing to do, but he didn’t care. Nothing else mattered but the thrumming of his heart for what he was about to do. 

A cane in his hand for preventing any consequences he was to face, no walls would stay up high with the persistence of the wizard. Lucius wasn’t sure if he had felt relief when he had not seen those scrambling creatures in the hallways or up the stairs. He could’ve just pulled up the punishment cards or obliviate the house-elf. It would’ve been amusing for him to watch, but there was a slight clench in his chest that had been more than glad at the absence of the elves. What would’ve Y/N thought?

Flinching only slightly at the abrupt, boisterous noise of the door slamming shut, Y/N could barely let out a gasp before her lips were sealed shut once again. With her back against the wall beside the door, there was no time for her to gaze upon the room the wizard had dragged her into. That was until Lucius had somehow urged himself to pull away. Mumbling in a raspy voice, Y/N felt wind crawling down her back, “Undress.”

So she did. There were sprinkles of chest heaving from the air-stealing exercises despite the two shredding off their clothing. Lucius couldn’t hold himself back. The way her tongue brushed against his; the way her fingers would gently grip onto his chest was as if she had handled glass. It was entertaining, to say the least- Lucius liked it. It was different. Different than his wife. 

A sharp gasp fell off her lips as the mouth that was once smeared over with freezing paint which now had been warmed up as if it rested next to a fireplace landed on her neck. Lucius’s ears trickled with wanton sounds of her moaning, quivering down his body. She knew what it did to him, yet, her body was not placed in a position for her to decide. 

Tightening her grip on the crumpled cover of the bed, a staggering moan caressed her lips. Lucius pumped his sole finger at a languid pace, the corners of his lips curling up at the way her hips buckled. While she had been melting her head into the soft pillows, the same ones his wife would slumber upon, his lips descended down to flick his tongue on her pebbly buds. Y/N wasn’t sure if it had been from the second finger he had added or the way his tongue had suckled on her breasts, or both, but she didn’t bother. 

She arched into his body, fingers weaved through the long locks of his hair. Lucius grunted at the sudden clench of his fingers. Her legs thrashed, wavering in shudders when he drew quick circles on her clit. Then she felt as if she had been chunked down the mists of clouds. Y/N watched as his fingers that had been coated of her coat his tongue. If there was any slight drop left, it was to be mixed with the tint of his saliva.

His fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking the hardened shaft while his eyes watched hers. Inch by inch, his pelvis had splayed against her skin. Youthful skin. And oh, if Lucius had let down his walls, he was sure he would’ve lost at the tightness around him. Breathless puffs were then dancing in his lips. 

Lost in the way his tongue danced with hers, she let out an unexpected whimper as his hips pulled back. The emptiness of the inch was prominent. The feeling lingered in her. However, it was soon thrown out of the window when he had snapped his hips. The first of the many wanton noises were forgotten in a blurry haze as his thrusts started a series of moaning and groans, “Lucius...”

Her moan fell into his ears in a bouncing string, just like that of a fishing rod with bait at its hook. Y/N’s legs wrapped around his hips, another surge of pleasure crawling through her body. With his head bumping into her temple, it wasn’t long before they plunged into the sea of a familiar feeling. 

Still breathless, he huffed out, his skin finally screeching of pain from his back, possibly the clawing of her nails, “Listen, my wife shouldn’t know-”

A knock on the door sliced through the still air, “Father, mother’s home.” 

The faces of the two could have been seen as that of a permanent freeze.

[jimlingss]

Moirai [7]

Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 [Finale]

➜ Words: 6.6k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

         ❇ Royal Romances Chapter 3 -Prince Route- ❇   The darkness is pitch black. It’s heavy. Comforting. Eerie. All at the same time.   Anastasia lurks within the shadows, looking both ways with a flickering oil lamp carried in hand. She darts her head down the long corridor and when there isn’t a soul in sight, she sneaks past the archway before pressing her palm against a stone brick behind a marble pillar. There’s a shift, gears spinning and the wall pulls back and to the side, tucking itself in.   She enters through the hidden passageway and the wall seals itself shut again as it never opened.   The cobblestone spiral stairs are dusty and dank without a single window. She cringes and bats her hand in front of her nose, damning him for choosing such an awful place to meet. Who knows what’s down here!   Ugh. A bastard son born will be a bastard life lived.    No amount of effort can make someone noble if they weren’t already born with it. She doesn’t know why she was expecting that man to be dignified.   “I didn’t think you would come so soon.”   The King’s bastard son stands at the landing of the stairs. The spiral staircase seems to descend further behind him, but she isn’t curious to where it leads.   “Hmph.” She turns away, lamp still in hand, and she pulls her shawl closer to her. “I already made up my mind. I want to get rid of that orphan whore, so I’ll do whatever it takes. She dares to try to seduce my fiancé when she doesn’t even know her place.”   The corner of Taehyung’s thin lips curl. “Then by all means, I’ll erase that problem for you.”   The Duke’s daughter turns and her eyes glimmer with intrigue.   The man reaches into the sleeve of his cloak and hands her a tiny vial of green liquid. An emerald jewel on the cap shimmers against the dim candlelight that casts their ominous shadows on the walls.   “It’s poison. One drop in the Empress’ tea cup and you can frame her for it. That’s all it’ll take.”   Anastasia smirks, a rush of air leaving her nose in satisfaction. It might be easier just to dip the tip of a dagger in and stab that wrench with it, but framing her would make Jungkook lose his trust in the girl. He wouldn’t look at her twice. And she’d be executed without the real perpetrator ever being implicated in the crime.   She takes the vial, holding onto it carefully. Yet her eyes flicker up to Taehyung’s. “What’s in it for you?”   “All I want is the empire’s wealth.”   ….. .. .            ❇ Royal Romances Chapter 7 -Prince Route- ❇   Punishment does not come in the form of her stripped title or even her head rolling away from her neck. Punishment arrives in the darkened loneliness. That loss of sanity that whisper she has failed to capture the attention of the only person she ever loved. That she failed to make him love her.   Everything she did, it drove him away.   Every act of love placed distance between them.   Everything.   Liberation comes back with the music of trumpets muffled by the stone walls. “What’s going on?” her voice is hoarse through her parched throat. The servant screams when her arm reaches past the bars to tug on the girl’s dress. Her eyes are bleary as she looks up at the girl. “Why is it so noisy?”   “T-The civil war’s over.” The girl backs away and the celebrations become more distinct with the realization. “The villain is dead.”   The girl withdraws into the cell and cackles rip through her lungs, resounding across the empty chambers. The servant scurries away as the knight huffs out through his nose and shakes his head. But it’s the best news she’s received since she’s been stowed away.    That bastard son — Taehyung.    He was a liar. He tried to kill her beloved Jungkook. He dared to try and replace him. But no amount of effort can make someone noble if they weren’t already born with it.    A bastard son born will be a bastard life lived.    She may have been condemned as his accomplice — she may have been used as his pawn, too blinded by her own affections to realize. But she is mad with joy that she will not die alone.    She can only hope he died a cruel and painful death.   Anastasia cackles again.

You gasp.   Your entire body jolts and you tear yourself up into an upright position. The covers pool in your lap, your white nightgown stuck to your back slick with cold sweat. You press your palm on your forehead, focusing on studying your heaving breath. It was just a nightmare.   Or rather, it was scenes from the original game. The way it was supposed to be.   It felt so real. As if you were Anastasia and those choices and decisions were the ones you made.   The door opens and the maid entering is startled to see you already awake. “Good morning, my lady. It’s still quite early….”   There’s no way you can return to sleep after that. “Today’s a busy day so I’ll get ready now.”   The maid nods and follows after you to the vanity. “Lady Devon has a lilac gown prepared for you today, my lady. The late Queen wore the same colour during the inauguration of the last Head Priestess.”   “Shouldn’t everyone wear it then?”   “Of course not.” The young servant smiles as she runs the brush through your hair. “Only the future queen should.”   Pft. Yeah right. It’s a ridiculous idea that you would ever be queen. Anastasia never had the chance in any route or lifetime and you doubt you will either.   But rather than changing the dress like you normally would, your hand tightens in your lap.   “Bring it to me then.”   As the future Crown Princess, you’re dolled up by several maids. Your tutor paces back and forth, commanding the flurry around you on each of their actions, from a strand of your hair out of place to a loose thread sticking out. Your cheeks are powdered in a soft pink and your lips are painted in the same cherry blossom shade. You feel like a Barbie being dressed up and not in a good way. But thankfully, the dress is simple for the occasion and your hair is plainly clipped back on both sides.    It isn’t a ball after all where people are going to be flaunting themselves. The next two days marks the inauguration of the new priestess. It’ll be a day of celebration and then a day of solemn prayer and song at the empire’s largest cathedral.   Aka, it’s going to be boring as hell.   Once you’re free from outstretched hands touching your body and making sure you’re a photoshopped version of yourself without the photoshop, you head to the gardens for a breath of air. And also to escape Lady Devon’s lectures of how you should ideally behave.   But by now, you already know what she wants to say.   Don’t chew with your mouth open. Keep your back straight. Don’t back talk to your elders. Most importantly, don’t speak to Tae—   “Anastasia!”   The corner of your mouth tugs. “Lucy.”   You shouldn’t be so happy to see the heroine of this story. Not when her existence naturally opposes yours and you purely forged a friendship for your own self-preservation.   But somewhere along the way, you found that she’s the only female who doesn’t look at you any differently. She doesn’t smile just to make you happy. She doesn’t call you just because she has something to gain. Unlike so many others, you know she has no intention of using you.   The girl doesn’t have ulterior motives. Unlike you.   “Good morning.”   “Morning.” You meet her between the bushes of peonies on the cobblestone path. “What are you doing here so early? The play doesn’t start for another three hours.”    “I didn’t want to be late, but I guess I came earlier than expected.” Her smile is sheepish and she lifts her arm, a single white lily held in her fingertips. “I saw this on my way here. I heard it was lucky to have white lilies on the day of the Head Priestess’ inauguration ceremony, so…”   You take her gift. “Thank you.”   The petals are delicate and the fragrance is subtle enough that you lift it to tickle your nose. It’s then and there, while you’re twirling the stem with your fingertips, that you notice a gaze upon you.   By sheer coincidence and coincidence only, it seems like Taehyung was seeking refuge in his corner of the garden again and ran into you. The corner of his mouth lifts, distance kept yet he’s somehow close. You can’t pretend that he’s not there.   Your eyes have locked together.   Immediately, you grab Lucy’s hand and turn to her. “You have no one to accompany you to the Eastern Cathedral tomorrow, right?”   “Uh…”   Before she can answer, you take her to the dark-haired man and smile cordially at him. “Good morning, Your Highness.”   “Anastas—”   “This is Lucienne from the House of Liza.” You drag the girl to your side and she murmurs a timid greeting to him. “I’m sure the two of you must’ve met each other a few times. She has no one to accompany her tomorrow.”   “Anastasia.” Lucy shifts to you. She’s visibly uncomfortable, her brows knitted together, fingers rubbing the skirt of her dress. “It’s quite alright, I don’t need anyone to—”   “Nonsense,” you interject with another friendly smile. “It must be lonely to go by yourself. I’ll be busy with Prince Jungkook. It’s important that you get to know others as well. You shouldn’t latch onto the Prince all the time.”    She’s visibly taken aback at your insinuation. It’s not like you want to be so blunt, but there has to be no room for refusal. This is the only way.   It’s no longer about trying to avoid the three of them. It’s no longer about bringing Lucy and Jungkook together and remaining on the sidelines. If you want to save Taehyung too, you need to use the only person who can do so.   You’ll find other ways to save yourself.   But Taehyung needs her.   “I…”   Your voice remains firm. “You should go with Taehyung.”    Lucy is the heroine of this game. It’s possible that they can end up together instead. She can comfort Taehyung, change his mind about revenge, ease his suffering, rid his grief. She’s the only one who can clear the darkness stowed inside of him.   They don’t know it, but you do.   You push her towards him. The girl stumbles from the loss of her footing and he steadies her by her shoulders.   “S-Sorry!”   “It’s fine,” he brushes off quickly and then turns his head, eyes boring holes in you. “What are you doing?”   Taehyung holds his gaze, searching your impassive expression and the corners of your mouth pulls stiffly. “I’m just joining two people who I think really suit each other. Oh, look at the time! I should leave before I’m late for my morning greeting to my fiancée. I’ll leave the both of you to it then.”   You curtsy hastily and spin around to walk away.   But Taehyung is three steps ahead of you.   His strides are long and he overtakes you easily, stopping your form far away enough that it’s out of Lucy’s earshot. He grabs your arm, pulls you back and stares deeply into your eyes. His frown deepens.   “Is this because of what I did that night of the feast?” he asks in a quiet murmur that makes you swallow hard. You don’t want to be reminded of that. Not now. Not when you’re trying to pay back the favour of saving your life by saving his. “Anastasia, I meant everything I said that night. I meant everything that I was about to do—”   You interrupt him, not wanting to hear anymore of it. It shouldn’t be this hard.   “It’s not that.” You stare directly into his pupils, unwavering in your gaze. “I have to go now.”   You brush past him and don’t glance over your shoulder, even when the temptation is overwhelming.   It really shouldn’t be this hard. You know the future. You know what’s entailed in their destiny.   But why does it seem like you’re making all the wrong choices.   //   Your knuckles rap against the surface. There’s a muffled ‘come in’ and you open the door.   Jungkook is getting ready in front of the mirror. His cape is being pinned perfectly on his back, navy blue jacket with ribbons and golden buttons making him look like the picture perfect prince of every Disney movie. It’s no wonder all the ladies constantly swoon when he passes.   To you, he’s always been that doe-eyed boy afraid of ladybugs. But marrying him wouldn’t be so bad. You’re sure it would be a good marriage. At least one full of respect and mutual understanding.   It would be better than half the marriages in the twenty-first century that ends in divorce.   Jungkook looks at your reflection in the mirror. “Anastasia. What brings you here?”   “I have matters to discuss, Prince Jungkook.”   “Very well.” He looks to the attendants beside him. “Please bring in refreshments.”   “There’s no need.” You quickly stop them and the man in front of you turns, visibly surprised at your rejection of sweets and tea. It’s the main reason why you come to visit each other after all. “This’ll be quick.”   They bow their heads and the doors shut a moment later, giving you and Jungkook privacy.   He pinches the hem of his sleeve. “Did you get in trouble with your tutors again?”   “Jungkook.” Your voice is solemn, your expression even more serious. He looks up and the corner of his mouth falls into a straight line. He follows you to the sofa and sits across from you.   “What’s the matter?” He’s frowning, worried about your changed demeanor.   You take a deep breath, bracing yourself. “We should solidify our engagement as soon as possible.”   Jungkook’s eyes widen. “W...what? Why so sudden?”    “Is it?”   “You’ve never been interested in being queen before.” His eyes narrow in on you and his brows furrow more. “Is this about the Duke and Duchess? Are they rushing you?”   “No.” You shake your head. “This is about me. It’s about us.”   “But this isn’t like you, Anna.”   “Why is it so surprising?!” Your voice is pitched and instead of anger, frantic desperation seeps in. You don’t know why everyone has to make it so difficult for you. “We’ve been engaged since our childhood! It’s only natural to move ahead. Who else are you supposed to marry—?!”   As the words come out of your mouth, it slaps you right back in the face: you’re falling into the same pattern as Anastasia.   Demanding the prince to marry you. Being blunt. Curt. Upset.   It’s so easy. It was as if your entire life was set up to be the villainess.   Oh god. You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what the answer is. You don’t know what choice to make to wind down the best path—   “Anna!” Jungkook calls you for the fifth time in the midst of your meltdown.   You lift your head to find him sitting beside you, his hands firmly squeezing your shoulders. He��s asking you if you’re alright, if you need a healer or some rest to clear your mind. He’s saying how the two of you can talk about this later. But you don’t want later. It’s always been later.   Making choices now for later.   Making plans now for later.   Everything you’ve done is for later down the line and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to reap the benefits or find the happiness you were so desperate to have when you died the first time.   Now. You want someone to shoulder your burdens with right now.   “Jungkook, what if….what if I told you I was from another world and I know the future of this world?”   “What?”   You swallow hard and meet Jungkook’s doe eyes. He searches your visage, unable to comprehend where this is coming from, where you’re going with this. “What if...the only way to save Taehyung is through Lucy? The only way is if they fall in love and she saves him.”   He’s completely lost on that. “Taehyung? What does he need saving from? Who told you he needs to fall in love with her? What?”   Your mouth opens, but you don’t know where to start, how to explain, if he would even believe you in the end. “You just need to trust me, Jungkook. I know things you don’t.”   “I...don’t understand what you’re talking about.” There’s a simmering pause between the pair of you and Jungkook looks carefully at your profile. Then his lips part to speak forbidden words— “Are you in love with Taehyung?”   It’s your turn to be confused. Befuddled. Taken aback.   And Jungkook must read the expression on his face, since he replaces your speechlessness with his own voice. “Otherwise, why would you care so much about him? You’ve never brought anyone up to me before. Not even your own parents, Anna, and I know they make things difficult for you. I’ve never seen you care about anyone else more than you care about yourself.”   You rise to your feet in an instant and turn your back on the man.   “That’s impossible. It’s impossible.”   “Why? I thought you always told me it was okay if we ended up falling in love with other peopl—”   “I said it was okay if you did. Not me.” You don’t get such a privilege. Jungkook is the protagonist, the hero. No matter what route it is, which way the story goes, he always wins. He will always live. But you will either die or be casted away. “It’s different.”   Jungkook has nothing to risk. You have everything.   “Anastasia.”   “Don’t change the subject. I came to tell you that we should move ahead with the engagement. There is no reason you should refuse, Jungkook.”    You turn and leave the room, ending the conversation there.   He doesn’t know. He makes it sound easy. But you can never be with Taehyung.   The Crown Prince’s fiancée and the bastard son. What a pair that would be.   As long as you’re living in this world, in this society, any relationship deeper than an acquaintanceship would bring disaster. It’s not as simple as falling in love, calling off the engagement, eloping together far away. This isn’t a fairy tale. This isn’t a romance narrative.   It’s life. A society that scrutinizes and shames. A culture that slanders names with scandals.   The Devereux house will fail anyway and you don’t care about soiling your reputation and being outcasted. But the King would deem it treasonous. The royal family’s reputation would be marred and ruined, and he would never accept that. He was already unhappy when Taehyung danced with you at the debutante ball, when Taehyung handed you the Hunt’s prize, when Taehyung rescued you from being kidnapped. And you cannot risk your life and Taehyung’s like that any more than you already have.   Jungkook is terribly naive if he thinks it could ever work.   //   The royal court is lively with warm drums and bright flutes that echo throughout the capital.   Famous minstrels and troubadours across the empire have come to perform for the King, having made their way through the streets in the morning for the commoners as well. He smiles in approval from his throne, the middle-aged priestess to be coordinated tomorrow seated beside him and the pair look to be enjoying the show.   Your parents are no exceptions either, seemingly relishing in the festivities. They’ve brought Edith and Joan in tow as part of their entourage, faces you never thought you’d miss. The former nods her head at you in silent greeting and the latter smiles, but you don’t get a chance to speak to either of them. Not when your parents have kept their distance.   It seems like the last incident has made them rethink their involvement in your affairs. And for that, you’re glad you’ve been granted a little more freedom.   Marquess, earls, counts, viscountess and barons seated around speak to one another in between performing acts, sipping on their wine as the afternoon sets into evening. Once in a while, laughter sparks through the courtyard and thunderous applause succeed performances.   But unlike them, you can’t enjoy it.   In spite of sitting next to Jungkook and visibly smiling, the space in-between the pair of you is tense and stiff. Lucy sits a few rows down from where she is beside her father and you can tell she’s uncomfortable with what happened earlier by her expression that never seems to ease.   All of it would be easy to ignore. If not for Taehyung’s gaze.   He’s standing in the corner against the stone walls that line the courtyard, inconspicuous but not to you. A glance at a crowd and you could still pick him out in an instant. But he doesn’t watch the play, doesn’t watch the musical performances or the acrobatics twisting around. He looks at you. As if that alone could figure out your intentions, like he could deduct what’s in your mind.   You don’t spare him a peek. Even when it’s difficult to resist.   You avoid him until the very end.   //   The moon is full, a perfectly round sphere that’s golden. Like a firefly amidst the blanket of stars. It isn’t brighter than the sun, but not any less beautiful.   Taehyung stares up at the horizon and then his eyes stray to marble railings. He floats up to your balcony and his feet touch against the white, stone flooring. He won’t let you run away.   The room is dark, but he makes out a lump in the bed that’s turning and twisting. Taehyung knocks against the glass door and the figure freezes before it moves a moment later.   Within a minute, the door opens and you emerge into the golden moonlight. “Taehyung? What are you doing here? You’re not allowed to be here,” you whisper harshly, looking both ways of the castle grounds while tugging the white, laced shawl around your shoulders closer.   “I had to come see you,” Taehyung gazes into your eyes tenderly and he leans down to capture your hand gently in his. The skirt of your nightgown flutters in the warm breeze. “I know there’s something wrong. Did Jungkook do something? Did he say something?”   You shake your head.   “Then why push me away?”   You turn from him, ripping your hand away from his grasps. “I don’t know what you mean.”   Taehyung grabs your arm and your head whirls back to him, eyes connecting. “You know exactly what I mean.”   “I’m engaged.”   “To a person you don’t even love.”   Your eyes widen and your brows furrow. “You don’t know that.”   “I love you.”    It’s a bold confession spoken from his lips, his deep timbre that doesn’t lack any sincerity.    An earnest proclamation that has your heart stuttering in your chest, your breath hitching in your throat. Your heartbeat is thunderous in your ears and something stirs in the pit of your stomach at the sorrowful expression Taehyung looks at you with. He murmurs, “I was going to take that secret to the grave, but I can’t stand by and watch you like this. I love you. Be with me.”    Be with me.   A three word plea. Whispered secretly on a full-moon night. An affection full of warmth that you never had the privilege of receiving before in your past life or this life. Until now.   You never thought it would be like all those cheesy movies — Love Actually, Pride and Prejudice, the Notebook. But nope. They’re right. When you hear a love confession, when you hear someone say ‘I love you’ and ‘be with me’, it really does make you overwhelmingly happy.    It makes you want to cry. It makes you want to hug him, kiss him, throw your arms around him and scream ‘yes’. It makes you imagine the rest of your life, growing old with someone you love.   But you stagger away from Taehyung. No.   No. It can’t be. He can’t love you. No.   You aren’t Juliet. Elizabeth Bennet. Allie.   This isn’t your love story. You aren’t the main character. And this most certainly won’t have a happy ending.    Taehyung was never supposed to love Anastasia.    This is a mistake. An accident. Repercussions to your actions.   “Don’t mistake sympathy for feelings of love.” You surprise yourself at how stern your voice sounds, never once wavering. You suppose years of growing up in the Devereux household and being put under rigorous training allowed you to control your exterior well. “I don’t love you. You don’t love me, Taehyung.”   “You’re wrong.” He steps forward, closing the distance, as firm as you are. “I’ll even fight for the throne if you want. I’ll fight Jungkook if that’s what it takes for you to be by my side—”   “No!”    The scream echoes in your own ears, loud and shrill enough to bring alarm. “Please. Don’t. Don’t.”   It’s then and there, in the throes of his reckless promises, it slams into you — the realization of how desperately you don’t want to see Taehyung die.   You don’t want to witness his tragic ending. And you don’t want him to do it for you.   Taehyung’s expression is crumpled in anguish and his arm lifts, hand extending. The pad of his thumb tenderly wipes away the tear that’s streaked down your cheek. The corner of his mouth upturns, but the sorrowful smile never reaches his eyes. “Do you hate the idea of being with me that much that you’re crying?”   “No...Taehyung…”   He withdraws. “I’m sorry.”   Taehyung gazes at you and then he shuts his eyes, falling backwards off the balcony. You cry out in absolute terror and your legs lurch forward towards the railings. Your arms snap out to grab him, but your fists merely catch the passing wind.   He’s vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but traces of magic in the air.   You collapse onto the floor, grasping at the banister as sobs wreck through your body. “T-That’s...not...i-it—”   The matter of life or death should be simple. The choices should be easy. But you don’t know why each path you choose has its own tragedy, why happiness never seems to come.   Why can’t you control your own destiny?

A wheeze tears from the bastard son’s mouth.   His ruined hands are wrapped around his silver staff until his bloodied knuckles have morphed white. But it’s his leverage, keeping him standing on his shaking legs. He may have lost but he refuses to collapse until his last breath has been taken. His pride won’t allow him otherwise.   “Why?”   He lifts his head and locks eyes with the impassive Prince, dignified and noble. A hero to all. A brother who he never deemed as a brother. Only in blood and never truly in name.    “Why did you do this?”   The corner of Taehyung’s mouth curls. Even on the battlefield when they are both armoured and armed with weapons — in the moment of death — Jungkook is as oblivious and ignorant as when he was a mere child.    Taehyung spares a thought as to what it feels like to be that naive. He concludes it is a privilege.   “W-hy….d..o...you...think?”   The Forgotten Prince’s feet sinks into the mountain of brittle bones. He had to bring the dead back to life through necromancy to build an army for this war. No one would fight on his side after all. No one’s ever wanted to fight on his side.   But even so, he was never able to bring himself to revive his mother.   But it’s foolish he didn’t. She may have just been a marionette doll with tangled strings, a simple outer shell of a real human being, but he regrets not doing it. He should’ve.   Even if it was just to see her for a moment.   But it is a regret too late. He has another wish he wants to achieve in these last moments.   Taehyung chokes out that girl’s name.    He didn’t know he would have feelings for her. He was simply intrigued. Anything that belonged to his brother was always something worth envy. And he wasn’t wrong. She was a pawn on the opponent’s side who turned out to be more valuable than the queen.   “P-Please….” Blood curdles at the back of his throat, thickening his words into pathetic sputters. “Let me...see her….on.e….las...t….tim..e…”   “I’ll never let you see her.”    The Prince’s hands tighten on the handle and he rips the sword out of his abdomen in a single motion. The sound of silver cuts sharply through the air and Taehyung drops to his bruised knees. His own blood has splattered across his visage, scarlet drenched on ashy skin.   The Prince stands tall, the very furrow of his brows jarring against the cold, cordial expression he maintains. It’s an expression of contempt, of hatred and indifference. His shadow looms over him, the status he was born with intrinsic in his sheer presence.    “All...I...ever..wanted….was to be you. To be...powerful...to have everything you have.”    The Forgotten Prince rests against his staff and shuts his eyes. He ponders for a mere moment if he will be able to see his mother after this. But if there is such a thing as an afterlife, it’s still unlikely that fate would grant him such peace and refuge.   “I...d..idn’t...want….to...be...aban..doned…”   The remnants of magic surges through his veins and with a weak flick of his wrist, Taehyung’s last magic summons the girl who had occupied his thoughts. She appears in front of him, manifesting with his spell, and she screams.   Jungkook calls out to her and they embrace. He holds her, covering her body with his arm.   The two of them look down at Taehyung in fear and disdain.    But her vicinity is enough for him. He wonders when he became this pathetic. Or if he was always this way as their villain.   Taehyung chokes on the blood curdling at the back of his throat, but his lips upturn into a smile.    He mouths her name and dies at their feet.   ….   Anastasia.   You wake up with a gasp tearing from your chest. Your breath heaves out of you and tears coat your cheeks and the pillow beneath your head. Most of all, your chest fucking hurts like your heart’s about to burst. So you call for a maid at the top of your lungs and within seconds, someone scatters in.   “My lady?”    “Water,” you croak and she nods.   A glass is presented in front of you within moments and you down the entire thing, able to calm yourself down once you’ve finished. The maid notices your sweaty form and asks if you would like to change clothes, but you wave her off and she leaves.   Your worst fear came to life in a nightmare.   Instead of calling the heroine’s name, Taehyung called yours.   //   The ceremony at the Eastern Cathedral is exactly like all other events and celebrations in the castle.   Boring. Tedious. Like sitting in a lecture hall with the most unenthused professor droning on about the art of paint drying. Except you have to slap a friendly smile on you, sit straight, make small talk and pretend you’re intently listening. You wish cardboard cutouts were a thing, so you could just slap a picture of yourself in your seat instead of having to deal with it.   But the entire ordeal keeps your mind from wandering about last night.    There’s something about pretending that you’re fine that makes you feel fine after a while. Like you’ve tricked your own self into being okay.   You’re even anxious once it’s over. Once the quiet has settled back in.   Many of the guests leave, viscounts and countesses bidding their farewells from the cathedral and getting into their carriages. After you’ve sent off Lady Devon and you’re free of her scrutiny, you quickly turn around to find Jungkook and get out of here.   The last thing you want is to run into Taehyung right now. You don’t know if you’ll be able to manage your reactions, control your expressions.   But on your way back, your attention is taken by an elderly priestess dressed in white robes with a cane, hobbling around. Her hands are outstretched and she bats the air. She’s blind.   “Excuse me, do you need help?”   “Oh, yes, please, that would be wonderful.” She smiles and the tens of wrinkles on her face crease. The old lady reminds you of your grandma and the corner of your mouth quirks. You take her hand and place it on your arm, guiding her. “I’m usually not so clumsy but I lost my way and had to re-orientate myself. You can just bring me into the side house, it should be on the West side of the cathedral grounds.”   You look around and spot it around the building. “It’s this way.”   “Are you here for the ceremony?”   “Yes, I am.”   “How nice, Emelisse will make a fine Head Priestess. Her holy magic is quite powerful.”   You hum and get to the smaller building within two minutes. The doors are already open, so you peek inside to see if anyone’s there to take the old lady, but there’s no one. “We’re here.”   The Priestess reaches out and grabs the door frame. She smiles and gets up the steps herself, but not before turning around. “Thank you. Not many people would personally aid me in this day and age, and for that I’m thankful.”   “It’s not a problem.”   It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to speak so casually to someone. But it’s relaxing to forget about your titles. You don’t have to be the Crown Prince’s Fiancée. The future Queen. Or the heir of the Devereux house.   You’re just Anastasia. Y/N. A mix of both that makes you you.   “Would you be willing to hear an old secret in exchange for helping me?”   “Uhhhhh…..” You glance over your shoulder. There’s no palace guards or Jungkook in sight.   You really don’t want to stick around for too long. But you remember your grandma got pretty lonely towards the end of her life and was willing to talk to door-to-door salesmen for a good hour or two until they wanted to run away and blacklist the house from their list. Bless her heart.   You decide to indulge the old woman, so you go along with it. “Sure.”   “I once knew a woman, a kind but poor woman. She was with child,” her voice croaks and you lean in closer, realizing it’s juicy gossip and it sparks intrigue. “The father of that unborn child wasn’t very happy to know that child was coming into existence, so she, worried, came to see her fortune and her child’s on the eve of the Solar Festival.”   The old Priestess holds the handle of her cane with both hands, placed in the middle of her body. She faces the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin as she continues the story.   “She came to this cathedral and they told her about doom and her child’s inevitable doom. Desperate and heartbroken, she begged to find a way to deviate from such a fate. She wanted to do anything she could to change the predetermined destiny of her unborn child.”   Your brows furrow. You begin to wonder why she’s telling you this. “And?”   “She did a ritual of dark magic to search for a soul that would protect her son.” The old woman shakes her head. “She defied the laws of destiny itself without knowing the pain it would cause.”   “But through sheer will, she broke it!” The Priestess smiles, her voice having been a murmur drawing you in. “She found a fitting soul and that soul was sent to another dimension before this one to learn about what was to come, so that they could protect her son.”   You stagger back. Breath caught in your throat. Blood draining from your face.   There’s no way. It can’t be.   But everything aligns. It matches perfectly.   “W-What happened next?”   The woman hums a low note and you realize too late that she’s the former Head Priestess, the one who had just stepped down. “I’m not quite sure what the ending to that story is since that soul wrapped in dark magic is standing right in front of me.”   The former Head Priestess smiles gently and turns around, entering inside her abode. She leaves you standing rooted to the ground on your own as it dawns upon you —   It was all on purpose.   Being reborn into this world. Having memories of your past life. Being burdened with the knowledge of what fates there are, what the future holds. All along, it was to serve your purpose: to protect Taehyung.   Your destiny was entangled with him even before this lifetime.    But you’ve already failed. You let his mother die. And now his own time is running out.   You turn around. The urge to see him overwhelms your very being. You have to tell him how you really feel. You’re not just Anastasia. You’re Y/N. And you won’t allow the original storyline to confine your choices anymore.   None of this was an accident. You weren’t messing anything up. None of your actions, your feelings or his are wrong. Nothing was a mistake. You’ll find a way to save Taehyung, to be with him.    You have to.   In the south courtyard of the cathedral, by sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you see him there. Of all the places of these vast grounds where he could be, you still found him.   “Taehyung!”   You call out to him and he turns at the sound of your voice. But then your smile falls. Your feet slow. By coincidence, an arrow soars towards him, slicing through the air.   You shout at the top of your lungs and Taehung whips his head around. The tip of the arrow freezes an inch away from his nose and clatters to the ground through his magic. But then five more arrows splits the sky and flies towards him. Taehyung dodges, stops another, but one catches him in the arm.   He sharply inhales.    A scream of his name tears from your throat.   Taehyung winces and rips the shaft of the arrow out of his skin. He looks at the tip before throwing it away. He can feel the poison spreading in his veins, bleeding inside of his body. It inhibits his magic and before he can yell at you to get away, another arrow spirals in the horizon.   He shuts his eyes. Taehyung feels an impact. But the pain never comes.   His eyes shoot open, brows knitting together and his mouth draws open when he sees you.    Your arms have wrapped around his body in a warm embrace, shielding him away, protecting him like you were meant to. The end of the arrow has pierced into your shoulder.    But you can’t feel it.   Taehyung shouts your name and you collapse. He holds your body in his arms, cradling your head against his shoulder as he screams from the pit of his stomach for help. And you watch him through foggy eyes, a smile gracing your lips.   You’re glad he’s not hurt.   Your hand slowly lifts to caress his cheek and he looks at you.   “I….fi..nally came….on time, Tae...hyung.”

[ichor-and-symbiosis]

Subject of Sin - Part 1.

Incubus Shigaraki x Nun reader; NSFW

Warnings: noncon, dubcon, somnophilia, possessive behavior, desecration of religion, monsterfucking.

Word count: 2,520 

A/N: A huge thank you to @shigamothki-vs-the-lamp for beta’ing and inspiring me to finish this fic! 

Your innocent forays into temptation and sin catch the attention of a demon.

Part 1| Part 2

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‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‎‎‎“He sleeps inside my soul ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‎And sometimes wakes up in the night ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎And plays with my dreams.” ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎— Fernando Pessoa

Demons lurk within our minds, not in the crevices of forgotten places. If the darkness ebbs and flows, it is merely a reflection of our innermost desires — a manifestation of sin that refuses to be held at bay any longer.

You kept Father’s teachings close to heart and steadfastly studied the scripture. It was the only hope you had to cling to, having been hidden away at a monastery since childhood. Life was kind and peaceful, and you spent your days deep in prayer and tending to the ill and destitute alongside your sisters.

And yet, one way or another, something began to stir within you. It crept up on you throughout the years in the form of innocent temptations — a yearning to explore the local village for just a while longer, exhilaration after allowing a baker to slip a sweet roll into your satchel as thanks for helping his daughter, despite knowing you were not allowed to accept gifts from others, unrecognizable melancholy as you stared out into the sea of rolling hills on a crisp autumn day and admired the endless blue sky — so many little temptations that doused the bright flames of your spirituality and allowed the darkness to spread.

It was difficult to notice the change. Even when you found yourself restless and cursing the pain shooting up your knees as you knelt before a pew, you quelled your inner conflict with prayer and fasting. But adulthood brought about new challenges. The cracks within your restless spirit had spread like ivy and primed you for your first mistake.

Your day started like any other. Winter ensnared the grounds of the monastery in blankets of glimmering snow and stinging winds that proved difficult to overcome. The villagers were kind enough to send provisions to the monastery, ferried up the winding hills of gnarled oaks by a gentleman who you had seen many times. He was handsome and friendly, his inky windswept hair plastered across his forehead and cheeks nearly as red as his eyes. Father had the pleasure of speaking to him more often than not, but you still attempted to catch a glimpse of the man under the pretense of unloading the cart. Your heart always stirred at the sight of his warm smile.

You should not have entertained your silly whimsies. You should not have gone to bed with impure thoughts after a hasty Hail Mary, staring into the flames of the hearth as you huddled beneath your blanket and slipped a hand between your quivering thighs, watching the glowing red and orange hues of burning cracks within the firewood and remembering those beautiful eyes. The experience was so humiliating that you hurried out of bed in the dead of night and ran straight to the church, letting the sharp pain of cold snow against your bare feet guide you ever further towards your only chance of salvation.

The imposing silence of the church did little to soothe your nerves. Towering walls of barren stone and creaking wooden pillars surrounded you, devoid of hospitality in the dead of night. You took a few meek steps towards the altar. Unable to meet the solemn gaze of your savior, you scurried off to find Father’s private quarters instead. Your loud knocking had clearly startled the man into wakefulness. The poor priest looked just as frazzled as you felt, and you made sure to apologize profusely for your rude behavior as you dragged him to the confessional with tears streaming down your face.

Father had been so deathly silent while you told him about your infatuation with the villager that you were certain he would scold you good and proper. But no, he had been as compassionate as he always was, offering words of comfort and forgiveness.

That should have been the end of it. You did not see the villager for days after your shameful act. The mundane tasks of everyday life kept you busy. So busy, in fact, that you managed to work yourself to the brink of exhaustion one day, and you fell asleep in the alcove of the library like some kind of child.

You did not remember dreaming. Consciousness trailed on the edge of a feeling that stirred you from slumber — a barely-there touch brushing along your bottom lip, followed by a short puff of cold air that fanned across your face and startled you awake. The candle beside you innocently flickered and waved in greeting, and the shadows around you mockingly mirrored its dance.

This game of ethereal cat and mouse continued for weeks. Every so often you would feel lingering sensations trailing along your face whenever you let your mind wander, growing only bolder once you removed your constricting habit within the sanctity of your bedroom. With your hair freed from its confines as you brushed through the soft strands, sometimes you imagined a hand trailing after the brush with each downstroke. It reminded you of how your Mother Superior combed her fingers through your hair to prevent tangled knots from hurting you.

All of this, you could attribute to your imagination … until the sharp divide between fiction and reality steadily grew muddled.

A particularly strange encounter occurred one evening. You opened your small window and pensively stared out into the snowy landscape, a singular thought daring to escape your wicked mouth, where none but God could listen to your act of rebellion.

“I want to be out there,” you had whispered solemnly.

A breeze rolled through in answer, and you marveled at how the air caressed your cheeks and smoothed unruly strands of hair away from your face.

It had felt so tender and comforting. You froze in shock for only a moment before something spurred you to hurriedly close the window and hide yourself in bed.

If only it had been that easy — the following night proved to be more tempting than the last. You were woken up by a tingling sensation on your lips, and a new feeling altogether.

Something firmly cupped your breast through your nightgown. Or could it simply be your blanket tightened around you from thrashing in your sleep?

Your nipple hardened into a stiff peak, begging to be played with. You kept your eyes firmly shut and blushed at your wanton display, modesty briefly overtaking your lustful urges. Yet try as you might, you could not resist bringing your fingers ever downward. Your nightgown had ridden up to your hips, and as the blanket caressed the sensitized skin of your inner thighs and tightened around your breast, you buried your face in your pillow and gently eased a finger through your slick folds.

Your efforts were clumsy and inexperienced. It was utterly frustrating, your hips canting upward to try to find the right angle and failing miserably at it. Your brows furrowed in anger and concentration, and in your delirious frenzy to reach your peak, you found yourself arching your back into that strange grasp on your breast. A gentle swipe along your hardened nipple elicited a breathy gasp, and the feeling of fingers carding through the hair at your temple made you whimper and tilt your head in search for more.

Something slid along the back of your hand and coaxed it into a new position. Your mouth opened in a wordless cry as you finally hit a perfect spot deep within you. The tingling sensation tickled your lips again, and for some odd reason, you felt compelled to stick your tongue out just a little bit, your breath hitching as something soft and warm glided along the wet muscle.

It should have knocked all sense back into you. It nearly did, if not for your cunt pulsing around your fingers as you moaned and chased the aftershocks of heady pleasure with each roll of your hips. Liquid exhaustion flooded your body, urging you to slump back in relaxation. You had just enough energy to carefully remove your sticky hand from beneath your sheet and lay it on the edge of the bed before sleep overtook you. In the morning, you would find your fingers mysteriously clean.

You kept that night a secret. Overcome with shame and disgust, you could not bring yourself to admit to Father that you had broken your vows once again and strayed from his guidance.

“None will know, and therefore it never happened,” you angrily muttered to yourself as you strutted through the snowy grounds of the garden and tightened your wool cloak around you for warmth. “My sanctity is worth more than my foolish pleasure.” A stray rock caused you to nearly trip, and you had to suck in a deep breath to keep yourself from losing your calm.

The more you distanced yourself from the truth, the more you were drawn into the darkness. You kept your secrets safely guarded, playing the part of a devout sister while your aching loneliness was soothed by the balm of an unseen force that played with your senses.

Sometimes you imagined a glimmer of shifting light at the edge of your periphery, but you dared not look. Not ever. The gentle caresses were more than enough to satiate your desires.

Or so you told yourself.

A winter storm was in full effect tonight. Not a soul dared to prance around the cold corridors, which meant you had no chance of being interrupted by a wayward young initiate or an unruly sister with a penchant for late-night gossiping. You were freshly washed and warmed by the fire, your unbound hair fanned out across your pillow and your nightgown scandalously discarded over the back of your chair.

For the first time in your life, you did not bend the knee to pray before rest. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you stared at the golden cross hammered above your doorway, its edges aglow from the light of the fireplace.

“God forgive me,” you quietly uttered, and closed your eyes to banish the cross from your sight.

For a while, all you could hear was the sound of howling wind and crackling fire. You were half-tempted to begin all by yourself, but you had learned to be patient. Your visitor always made itself known when you were tethering on the precipice of sleep. Perhaps the delirium that followed exhaustion played tricks on you. Perhaps that had been the culprit all along.

Either way, you wanted it.

And so you let yourself slip free from anticipation and restlessness, the tension in your muscles dissipating as your breathing gradually slowed and you could no longer hear the wind or fire. All you knew was peace. All you perceived was stillness.

It was quiet. Far too quiet. Something felt different tonight.

You were overcome by the sensation of falling, and your body jerked lightly in response. It roused you from the precipice of slumber, and in your hazy confusion, you had enough common sense to keep your eyes closed. Ever so patient, you waited for what would come next, despite the goosebumps forming on your skin that had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the feeling of being watched.

A light weight pressed down onto your chest, as though a kitten had curled up there. You focused on your breathing and parted your lips, allowing your soft sighs to slip through. It always liked when you did that. Your mouth tingled a bit. You slowly licked along your bottom lip, and the weight on your chest became incrementally heavier.

A pulse of wetness gushed out of your cunt in anticipation. You rubbed your thighs together for friction and accidentally bunched your bedsheet at your feet, making it slither down your body to expose your breasts. The cold air caused your nipples to harden, and an even colder puff tickled one nipple before an altogether unique sensation followed — soft and textured, like a velvet ribbon, gliding around the stiff bud and ending its journey with a teasing flick.

You moaned quietly as you gripped the sheets beneath you. This time, something sighed against your mouth, trailing along your tongue and all the way to the back of your throat. Before you could make sense of the new experience, a firmer pressure settled over your lips, far more solid and real than any tantalizing tingle had ever felt.

You were delirious with need. Completely and utterly lost to your impulses, and you hadn’t even touched yourself yet.

Something was kissing you, and you were too far gone to consider the implications. Nevermind that you were in a compromising situation and forsaking your vows to the Lord.

Right now, all that mattered was how rough that touch felt against your lips, how slowly it guided your mouth into a deep kiss that smothered your whimpers and gently sucked at your lips with a lewd wet sound. Velvet glided along your tongue, twining like a serpent and licking every crevice of your mouth. It was overpowering, toe-curling, intoxicating. You were swept away by the myriad of sensations, moaning as your nipple was twisted and pinched, and the hair at your temple was lovingly, tenderly brushed through.

Familiar. You knew that touch. You craved it, and you wanted more. No one had ever made you feel like this before. No one ever would, not within these sacred halls.

What if —

What if you dared to look? Just this once, what if you stepped out from the protective embrace of your religion and just …

As though reading your mind, the firm pressure on your mouth disappeared. You opened your eyes, and forgot to breathe.

God help you.

Scarlet eyes. Redder than blood, oh so familiar in their beauty, yet entirely devoid of life. They burned like hellfire, slashed through by slitted pupils that honed in on you with an unyielding stare.

And the skin. You had never seen anything like it on a living creature, this sickly gray shade among numerous cracks and scars that marred the entity’s torso and face. Your gaze trailed over the strange markings around those serpentine eyes, your stomach churning uneasily as your worst suspicions were confirmed — the striated grooves winded and merged into the graceful arch of a pair of horns that curled back into sharp tapered ends.

You were consorting with a demon.

He looked corrupted, as though his very essence carved its demonic aura into his flesh. In a moment of bewildered hysteria, you honed in on the scars etched into his face, briefly noting that he had a mole just below the corner of his mouth, of all things —

The demon readjusted his position, comfortably resting his weight on top of you as his arms caged your head and his hands cradled your face. His fingers carded through your hair in a mockery of affection, and he smiled at you, all sharp teeth and cracked lips.

You wanted to throw him off of you. You wanted to kick and scream and beg the Lord for forgiveness and protection.

You were frozen in place instead.

[drabbles-mc]

Come Back Soon

Coco Cruz x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I’ve never written for Coco before, but when I stumbled across a prompt from This Post I thought it would be a nice silly one for him. This one is on the silly and fluffy side, so hope y’all enjoy it!

You were used to people stopping and lingering in the windows of your shop. It was a majority of your advertising. You always made sure that your display windows were immaculate. It was a small miracle that you had gotten a store space on the main strip in town anyway, and you had no intention of wasting it. It resulted in a lot of people stopping and staring at all of the cakes and pies that you had on display in the window.

Pastries appeal to everyone, no matter what walk of life they’re from. You’ve seen a little bit of everything in the couple of years that you had been running your own shop. Even so, you had to smile to yourself a little bit at the sight of a heavily tattooed man lurking in your window, gazing longingly at the cherry pie you had on one of the display trays that day. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, not wanting to make him uncomfortable and drive him away.

He disappeared as fast as he had come, and you went back to attending to all of the customers that were in your store. It was a Saturday and items were flying off the shelves faster than you could even ask your coworkers to prep more. It was a good problem to have, but it was still chaotic.

Right when the morning rush started to die down and you had a little time between the morning and lunch rush, you saw a somewhat familiar face outside the window again. You took a moment to get a good look at him this time, wanting to figure out a little more about this new window-shopper. He had messy, slightly wavy hair that fell a little above his shoulders. He had on a leather vest that was covered in patches, but you couldn’t quite read what they said. You saw that he was covered in tattoos and you subconsciously bit your lower lip.

He looked up from the window into your shop and caught you looking at him. You flashed him a kind smile and a small wave. A small smirk appeared on his face and he waved back before scurrying off again. You chuckled to yourself, wondering what he was all about.

You were against the back wall of the main room of your shop, carefully frosting a cake for a custom order that someone had placed. Somehow you managed to stay in the zone even with all of the people filtering in and out. You were thankful that everyone who worked with you at the shop was capable of running the register for a little while so you could take care of things like this.

“Hey, Y/N,” one of the girls spoke up with a light laugh, “That dude is back again.”

You set down your piping bag and looked over at her, “Who?”

She nodded towards the window, “That biker dude.”

“Biker dude?” your voice was hardly a whisper, saying it more to yourself than anyone else. You looked over and, surely enough, he was back for a third time that day. You would’ve been worried under most other circumstances, but there was just something about him that told you he wasn’t a threat or a creep—he was just a dude who really wanted some pie. You chuckled to yourself as you wiped your hands off on your apron and made a point to step outside to greet him and tell him that he was more than welcome to come inside and see what else you had to offer him. But, by the time you made it to the door, he was gone again. Your brows furrowed but you shrugged it off, heading back to your work.

The evening was slowing down and you had sent your girls home for the night, telling them that they should enjoy what was left of their Saturday. You could handle prep work on your own, and you liked seeing all of the youngin’s going out to have fun. You were wiping down the countertops when you felt eyes on you. You knowingly looked over to the window and you saw the same man standing there, disappointment on his face as he took in the empty display window.

You waved your hand to get his attention. He looked up at you, slightly startled. You waved him in, and when he tried to shake his head no you continued to pester him from the other side of the glass. You could see him thinking it over in his head, but he finally caved and walked towards the door. You didn’t know why you felt so excited, but you did.

The bell chimed lightly as he strolled in, hands shoved in his pockets. You could tell by his body language that he was nervous, but for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why. There was nothing intimidating about your bakery. The only frightening thing in there right now, arguably, was him.

“I’m Y/N,” you came out from behind the counter and extended your hand.

He carefully took it in his and gave you a solid handshake, “Coco.”

“Nice to meet you, Coco. I noticed you seemed pretty into some of my wares in the window earlier,” you chuckled, “They’re all for sale, you know. You’re more than welcome to come in and shop.”

“Didn’t wanna ruin the vibe of your whole place,” he shrugged as he looked around at everything.

You smiled, shaking your head, “Don’t be ridiculous. Food brings everyone together, right?”

It was the first time you saw a real smile on his face, “Yea, I guess.”

“Wait here,” you giggled excitedly, “I have something for you.”

He watched you with confusion all over his face as you disappeared into the back room of your shop. He shifted nervously on his feet, not quite sure what he was supposed to be doing. You reappeared with a white box in your hands and a huge smile on your face.

“This is for you,” you handed it over to him.

He took it in his hands, utterly lost. He pointed to it with raised eyebrows as if to ask if he could open it. You nodded excitedly, lacing your fingers together in anticipation. He set the box down on the counter and opened the box to reveal the pie he had been staring at all throughout the day.

You laughed, “I took it and set it aside after I caught you staring at it for the third time today.”

A smirk was tugging at his lips, “What do I owe you?”

You waved him off, “This one’s on the house. I admire the dedication you have to baked goods,” you chuckled, “I’ll consider this an investment. If you like it and wanna come back for more, you’ll have to pay me. Deal?”

He nodded, carefully closing the box, “Deal.”

“I hope I’ll see you again soon, Coco,” you found yourself biting down on your bottom lip again as you looked him over.

He grinned at you for a moment as he held the box in his arms, “You will.”

[writingletterstothefire]

She Loves Me

Chapter 1

A/N: Hi guys. It’s been a minute. Here is the long awaited (by no one) She Loves Me AU. I’m putting chapter 1 out here in the hopes that people waiting for updates will spark some creativity in me again. I’m sorry it’s short. If you enjoy, let me know

Word Count: 1703

Warnings: not proof read.

The sun was blazing down on you as you scurried down the busy New York sidewalk. The summer had decided to be blazing hot this wonderful morning, and you had decided to be extraordinarily late for work. Well, perhaps ‘decided’ isn’t the right word— you’d overslept on account of staying up extra late to finish a letter to your Special Friend.

There was no shame in using a dating service, you knew that, yet for some reason the very thought of joining one was something that you had scoffed at for so many years. “I want to meet someone organically,” you’d complain to your friends, “those services are full of strangers who have the weirdest quirks.” To be fair, that had been true in your brief experience using a dating service in college. It was definitely an odd time, figuring out exactly what ‘watersports’ meant. Needless to say, it had taken one single date for you to decide to withdraw your application and swear off dating services.

But you were getting older. And men seemed to just get more and more picky, the older they got. So, when you stumbled across an advertisement in your Sunday newspaper for a matchmaking service called ‘Special Friends’, you jumped at the opportunity. The directions were simple; you filled out the survey in the paper, mailed it to the listed address, and then your answers were compared with other submissions to find the best match for you. Once you received your match, you were to write a letter to them introducing yourself and signing off under the title of ‘Special Friend’. The two of you were given a specific P.O. box to drop your letters off to, provided by the matchmaking service. The only real rules were that the letter had to be handwritten, and you were only allowed to give real names if both parties agreed on it.

Your Special Friend was a true kindred spirit. It had been six months of trading letters back and forth, and the two of you spoke about everything, from your childhoods to your favorite books, from dream destinations to worst fears. About three months into this correspondence, you knew that, whoever this Special Friend was, you loved them. You stayed up until all hours of the night writing draft after draft until you formed the perfect letter. Because of this, you were often late for work in the morning.

Late. That’s right. You were very late. You willed your feet to move you as fast as they possibly could, cursing yourself for choosing this morning to wear heels. Finally, you managed to burst through the door just minutes before opening, scurrying to the back to drop off your bag. You made a mental note to yourself to start carrying flats in your purse, in case of emergency.

You’d just finished touching up your makeup in the small staff room mirror, when you felt someone sidle up beside you. You didn’t have to turn your head to know who it was. The smug energy emanating from his every pore was enough to confirm your suspicions of who was next to you. Santiago Garcia. Your worst nightmare in human form.

“Can I help you with something, Mr. Garcia?” You didn’t even spare him a glance as you finger-combed your hair, which was now windswept from your impromptu jog.

“Not at all, Miss Y/L/N,” Santiago flashed you a smile that, in any other circumstance, would have been charming. You, however, knew that pure contempt lurked behind those pearly white teeth. “I was just marveling at the rare sight of you, here, on time!”

“And why would that be something to marvel at, Mr. Garcia?” you scowled.

“Well, simply because it’s never happened before!” Santiago leaned against the wall, charming smile morphing into the smirk that often adorned his chiseled face. “You know, Miss Y/L/N, you may want to stop frowning so adamantly. At your age, those frown lines tend to stick around.”

“At my age?!” you nearly shrieked at him. “Mr. Garcia, need I remind you that you are older than I am!”

His smirk only widened. “Yes, but you seem to forget that one of us is ageing with grace, Miss Y/L/N.”

Your scowl deepened, and you shoved past him, making your way to the front of the store. You never did understand why Santiago didn’t like you. From the first moment you stepped into the department store, it seemed like he was trying to usher you out. Sure, when he thought you were a customer, he was the most charming man you’d ever spoken to. But once he had realized that you were trying to apply for the new salesperson position, he wanted nothing to do with you. He had insisted that there were no positions available, but Frankie Morales, his friend and co-worker, was quick to usher you to the owner’s office. Mr. Bailey had been a hard man to charm, but when you made your first sale to a woman who was insistent that she was just browsing, he hired you on the spot. After all, you’d gotten her to buy not one, not two, but five jars of various creams and lotions. None of Mr. Bailey’s workers had ever managed to sell that much in one go, not even his prized Mr. Garcia.

Making your way to the front of the store, you said hello and gave a kiss on the cheek to Frankie and each of the Miller brothers, Will and Benny. All three of the boys were quick to welcome you, despite Santi being the unspoken leader of the pack. They quickly became your protective band of brothers, something you’d long wished for as a young child.

“Good morning Frankie! How’s Elisa doing this morning?” You asked Frankie, your tone surprisingly chipper after dealing with Santi in the staff room.

“Round as ever!” Frankie exclaimed, a wide grin on his face. “The doctors estimate that the baby will be here in about a month, and Mr. Bailey’s been so kind as to let me have a month off after the baby arrives. I know it’s going to take a toll on Elisa, and I want to be there for her as much as I can.”

Sometimes, Frankie just melted your heart. It was so plain to see how much he loved his wife and their incoming baby. Their little family was everything you wanted. You only hoped that one day someone would love you just as much as Frankie and Elisa loved each other.

It was beginning to seem as though your Special Friend was never going to reveal himself to you. You had offered to meet for dinner on a few occasions, and each time he insisted that he had prior appointments. You didn’t want to assume anything, of course, but you were getting worried. Surely he wouldn’t lie to you about having a prior engagement, would he? But then, if he was so eager to meet you, as he claimed to be, then why did he never offer an alternative date?

On your way home from work, you stopped at the P.O. box. Your Special Friend had forgotten— or, well, neglected, you supposed— to write you the past two days, but you were adamant about writing at least every other day. You knew how much the letters meant to you, and if they brought him even half as much joy, you wanted to be sure he got it. Perhaps, if you hadn’t been so caught up in your own head, you would have looked up and seen the figure walking away from the wall of P.O. boxes.

To your surprise and delight, there was a letter waiting for you in the box when you finally opened it. If you hadn’t been so excited to read it, perhaps you’d have noticed the flash of a coat turning the corner as they walked away from the wall of boxes.

You hurried to open the letter.

Dear Friend,

I am so sorry to have not been able to write these past few days. Work has been an absolute train wreck, what with the most irritating co-worker constantly fumbling about. Somehow, the boss claims it’s my fault. Could you believe it? My fault that my imbecile of a co-worker is incapable of doing the simplest task that doesn’t involve talking a mile per minute?

But enough about that mess. I am supposed to be apologizing to you, my dear, sweet friend.

I know that you have been wanting to meet me. I am so sorry that I haven’t been able to make any of our appointments. As I’ve told you before, I was once in the army. An experience in war is one that I don’t wish on anyone. It takes a toll on you, emotionally, mentally, and physically. Because of my experience, I’ve decided to counsel other veterans and help them through their traumatic memories. On the nights you had wished to meet me, I’d had previously arranged counseling sessions, as well as one doctors appointment, a check up to see how I am recovering after all of my surgeries that I’ve told you about.

All of this to say, dear friend, that I’ve cleared my schedule for the night of the 27th. If you are available, I would love to meet you at the Ambrosia Garden down on the corner of 12th Avenue. I’ve made a reservation for two under the name Elizabeth Bennett, after you expressed how much you loved Jane Austen’s ‘Pride & Prejudice’. If you show, I will be wearing a purple rose on my lapel. I will look for you, where you will be holding a copy of ‘Pride & Prejudice’, with a purple rose tucked between the pages.

I sincerely hope to see you on the 27the, dear friend. I’ve been longing to meet you since we first exchanged letters, so many months ago.

Sincerely,

Your Special Friend

You had to meet him. You would get to the Ambrosia Garden on the 27th, no matter the cost. You’d find out who your Special Friend was if it was the last thing you did.

[random-imagines-blog]

Seeing Stars (Thranduil x Reader Oneshot)

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2189 Summary: A snowy walk with Thranduil goes slightly awry.

You’ve never breathed in air that felt so crisp and clean before. The cold was so much that you could barely feel it as you walked among the trees, bare during the winter. Your breath was coming out in a misty vapor, nearly freezing the tip of your nose, but once more, you could not feel it. The snow had paused for the moment, which was why you had decided to take this walk, and to your surprise, the grand King Thranduil of Mirkwood had decided to join you, leaving his covered throne room to walk outside. The stars were beautiful tonight, though the King was a distraction from the sights around you. And the sounds, since you could hear the animals in the forest scurrying around, getting the last of the food before hiding away for hibernation. There was no such thing as perfect in the world, but if there was - this was the closest that you believed anyone or anything could come to it.

“Is it hard to live in the forest during the winter?” You found yourself asking, then realized with horror that you had not addressed Thranduil in the way that he liked. “Your majesty,” You quickly added on. He, being taller than you, flicked his eyes downwards with amusement at how you hastened to add on the title.

“It  has flaws, though they are few, of course. We elves have learned to deal with things like ... temperature.” You could feel the ego in his voice. The ‘better than thou’ attitude that you had gotten used to from him, but you never spoke aloud about. Because you also knew that it was all just on the surface. If he truly thought he was better than humans, he never would have kept you around, surely.

“With your very long lives, you might have learned some manners?” You said, more as a suggestion. You really were overstepping your boundaries, you knew, but you were of the human reason, which automatically meant a stubborn streak. He raised an eyebrow at you, very much like the Drama King that he is.

“Manners?” He pondered, looking straight ahead of him. He’ll rise to the bait, he supposed, if only to prove you wrong. “Will you accompany me out of the forest tonight?”

“Why, what’s out there?” You asked, a shiver going up your spine. There may be peace in middle earth now, with Aragorn as King, but there were still dangers lurking about, like wild animals and bandits.

“Less trees, I imagine,” Thranduil said. He offered you his arm, and you took it. This was very rare indeed, since it’s not as if you were of elven nobility. You were just a messenger that Legolas had sent from Minis Tirith, a human that he trusted to get the message across. You had expected to return right after getting an answer, but Thranduil had invited you to stay and curiosity got the better of you. It wasn’t everyday that you were invited to stay in a beautiful Elven city.

“I almost think you’re up to something, your majesty,” You added his title on quicker this time. He seemed to like that since his hand patted your own which was against his arm. His footing was sure, quick and light, while you felt like an Oliphaunt next to you. While he didn’t make a sound against the ground, managing somehow to avoid any fallen brush and branch, you sounded like you were trampling through a forest thicket.

“At least any animal would be scared away by your noise,” He retorted. You curled your nose at his direction but didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. He hummed, amused by that, as you walked out of the borders of the forest, and into wide open space. It was almost scary how far you could see. How far, perhaps, someone could see you. The thought made you hold onto him a little tighter. “It’s not as lonely if you look up.”

So look up you did.

There were so many stars that at first, you thought that you had walked out to see a swarm of fireflies. But it was the wrong season for those, and once it reached your mind that it was indeed the sky, and that the cold of the night whisked away the clouds so you could see them properly, and the moon was barely a sliver so it’s light was not a distraction, your breath caught in your throat. Your neck started to hurt from bending it upwards at the angle, but that didn’t matter.

Thranduil stood beside you, not looking up, but looking at your profile. His eyes were narrowed at your reaction, a curiosity with a touch of confusion. He’d seen the stars many times, but did not pay them attention the way you did.

“I’ve heard that humans have stories for the stars. Tell me,” He commanded gently. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, waiting somewhat patiently. He didn’t like to not be the center of attention for the moment. He wanted you to look at him, or at the very least to speak.

“Stories?” You asked, finally giving your neck a break, and turned to face him. “Oh, I guess that there are a few. Don’t the elves have special meanings behind the stars?”

“Yes.” He said, but gave no other answer. He was still waiting for you to do as you commanded. There was an expectant look in his eye that drew you in, which made your mouth start to form the words.

“I guess the big one is shooting stars,” You started. “When you see one fly across the sky, you’re supposed to make a wish. It’ll make it come true. Though I haven’t tried that since I was young. My wishes never came true. I decided it was a waste of time and-”

“What did you wish for?” Thranduil cut in.

“Adventure,” You said with a laugh. You looked back upwards for a second. “I guess that it did come true, though it took some time.”

“Patience is a virtue,” He said, rather hypocritically, but you weren’t about to point that out. “Let’s begin the walk back.”

“Alright,” You said, falling back in line with him, but a step behind. “We also use constellations to find our way.”

“So humans do have some sense after all,” He said, the corner of his mouth going up in a rare smile. You laughed a little at that, smiling down at the ground.

“That’s almost a compliment, King Thranduil. Are you feeling alright?”

“Perfect,” He responded. “Does everyone wish for adventure on these shooting stars?”

“No, I imagine not. People want a wide variety of things. Love, maybe. Money, definitely. Gold. Power. The list could go on and on.” You two walked in silence for a moment, before a thought came to you. “What would you wish for?”

He turned to you, his perfect white hair hardly moving as he did so. There was not even a trace of a wind here amongst the trees.

“I am King of these woods. What makes you think that I have want for anything?” He questioned you. It wasn’t as severe as the words would have made you think. He was softer at that moment, like he had thought of something. It seemed more that he knew something was missing, and he was asking you to tell him what it was. You crossed your arms in front of you to keep in the shivers, as the still air still had a chill to it. You could smell snow in the air.

“A wish could be outlandish if you wanted it to be. The only limits are your imagination.” You let yours spread as you looked at the canopy that blotted out the stars above. “I would wish, right now, for my mother’s cooking. The way that she made bread, oh and the wine, and the cakes that were always moist! If I think about it anymore, I’ll be beside myself with hunger.”

“You’ve never tried elven cakes,” Thranduil said, as close to snorting as a distinguished elf could be. “They’d put your mothers to shame.”

“I ought to slap you for even making that comment. You’re lucky that you are a King, your Majesty. Such a thing is almost treason back home.” Your cheeks were starting to get red, as well as your ears. Those very words were fighting ones. Were you not getting closer to the company of guards, you would have yelled at him.

“And then I would have to imprison you for laying hands on the King. I’d end up having to keep you here forever. Perhaps that would be my wish,” He said, with a smirk that made orcs seem tame. Your human temper was flaring up now.

“That would be a cruel use of a wish. If I were you, I would use it on something more important, like a personality to go with those looks,” You shot back, your irritation was definitely clouding your judgment. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m the only person who spends time with you who isn’t a part of your guard. Maybe that should tell you something.”

“That I should attempt to swat the gnat that flits around my face?” He asked, clearly enjoying himself while your mood went darker and darker.

“You’re cruel,” You said with narrowed eyes, stopping your walk by going in front of him and standing. You were not the tallest human by any standards, not even as tall as Thranduil, but you knew some tricks to make you seem big. Puffed out chest, head held high. “And you’re arrogant, and you’re-”

As you leaned in to try to seem more threatening, your mind gave you a bunch of warning signs. A guard could come along and shove a sword through you at any moment for threatening the King. Thranduil himself could knock you away from him in a blink of an eye. He was a skilled warrior, after all. You froze, only a few hair widths away from the face of the King, who looked as if he were made of stone. He wasn’t moving. You weren’t moving.

But then thinking about all that he had just said, the fire returned. How dare he? Just because he was an elf, he thought that he was better than you. He thought that he could just imprison you.

You wanted to scream into his face, but that would just make things worse for you. An elf would come along and take your arm with ease and lead you to the dungeons. The tale of Bilbo and the Dwarves had reached your ears some time ago, but you would not have the same luck escaping, you knew that much. So you did something else. Something that Thranduil’s all-seeing eyes would not have been able to see coming.

Your soft lips touched his own cold ones, right at the corner where they went into a dimple, leaving just a trace of a kiss there. There was a thin line between love and hate, between lust and anger. Let him stew over this reaction for a while.

You blinked and settled back onto the soles of your feet, having somehow managed to go on your tip toes without realizing it. Thranduil stared at you still, not having blinked once during the encounter.

“I should keep you here,” He said, his voice low.

Well, that wasn’t the reaction that you wanted, or were expecting. And now you became nervous, almost terrified at the prospect of him locking you up because you went with a smug impulse. You weren’t so smug now, that’s for sure.

“That is my wish. There is a shooting star somewhere. I’ll wish on that right this moment. I wish for you...” You closed your eyes like a coward, expecting the worst. “- to stay here in Mirkwood with me for the rest of your natural life.”

“I don’t know if your son would like it that his friend,” You emphasized the word, though you were more of a messenger than a friend to the elf, “-is being kept a prisoner by his father.”

Thranduil laughed. Oh, he laughed, which would be damn adorable if it didn’t seem so threatening given the circumstances.

“Perhaps prisoner is a strong word,” He said, a rosy glow on his cheeks, which you noticed when you slowly opened your eyes once more. “I’d like you to continue to stay as my guest.”

“As your guest?” You questioned. “Even though I just kissed you?”

“It was certainly unexpected,” He said, offering you his arm to continue the stroll despite being near his palace once more. “I’m curious as to what you would do if I gave you compliments rather than teasings.”