#thatch x yn

[cyborg-franky]

hi franky!

Could I make a request with thatch, where the reader likes to wear expensive clothes even for everyday moments, please?

I hope you have a nice day ♡

Thatch x GN Reader SFW

He knows how much you spend on your clothes, he’s often by your side when you dip into the pricey stores and fancy boutiques on every island the Moby happens to visit. 

Thatch has a few nice shirts and pants that he only wears once in a while, on special occasions, or when going on a date with you but he would never wear them around the Moby in general. Not when there was so much mess and dirt and a member of the crew that was likely to combust into flames at a moment's notice.

So as you sit there at dinner, sandwiched between Marco who is only half paying attention to the coffee he was sipping and the book he was reading, and Haruta who was shoveling in food like his life depended on it he was close to having a damn heart attack.

Every fork clanked, and every time Marco set that coffee cup down closer to the edge Thatch was sweating.

You were wearing a very expensive outfit, it was worth more than his entire wardrobe and you were happily eating the pasta, red sauce dripping.

He was biting his thumb as he watched you eat.

“Hey babe, how about this,” He started, getting the other's attention before he grabbed a cloth napkin. “You will kill me otherwise, for my sake?” Thatch grinned at you though his chuckle was strained. He draped the fabric across your lap and tied the ends around your neck gently.

When you both retired to your room that night you slipped off your outfit, making sure to set it in a different hamper from his work clothes. He kicked off his shoes, slipping off the yellow scarf and eyeing you up.

“I didn’t mean to treat you like a child tonight at dinner,” he started and you paused, already slipping into your extravagant PJs, beautiful silk. “And I want you to know I love your clothes and how you look in them I just don’t want you to be upset if they get ruined.”

He explained and you smiled, walking over to him, placing a hand on his chest, tip-toeing, and kissing his cheek as he leaned down for you to do so. “I know, I appreciate it. But don’t worry. I know how to clean them.” You said with a grin and cupped his cheeks with your hands, feeling the rough skin of years of sailing through the salty breeze. “I have equally expensive cleaners that do just the job.” You winked and he laughed.

“Good, because I like seeing you dressed up all nice for me and feeling confident.” 

[library-of-ohara]

Anon requested

Hiii! Could I request Kidd, Thatch and Smoker and their reactions to a gn reader having an obvious crush on them. Thank you everyone, love the event so much!!

Oh boy it was hard to not write a whole novel about Thatch,becase he's my sweetheart and I adorethe dorky cook so much. Writing for the other two was a challenge, but I think I did get a good feeling for them. They aren't the muses I usually write for, but I like the challenge to write for someone new.

This was written by Didi [@usopp-writes]

Enjoy <3

Kid, Thatch and Smoker x GN reader (serpareately) SFW Word count: 537

Kid

He will not pick up on it at first, too busy thinking or doing something else than even take notice of you. You’ll have to do something really odd or stupid to get his attention.

When you do – intentionally or not – he’ll take some time to figure out just why you’re being so weird.

Killer is the one to point out that you are probably having a crush on Kid.

At first he’ll grin brightly and state of course you do, as he is too amazing to not be crushing on. The knowledge will only boost his ego more for a while.

Depending on how he feels about you, he’ll ignore you, laugh at you, tease you or give you a grumpy answer. He will not consider your feelings, when expressing how he feels about you crushing on him, if he doesn’t like you back.

No matter what, you will have to work hard to get him as your boyfriend. Good luck.

Thatch

He will notice it after a little while, if you have just been subtle about it.

The way you always seem to find a way to spend time with him – especially when you didn’t hang out this much with him before – is telling him more than you think.

He’ll be smiling and friendlier with you, when he realizes you’re crushing on him.

Be assured he will tell you if he doesn’t feel the same about you. In the most gentle way possible, as not to hurt you too much.

If he does like you, he’ll let you ‘hunt’ him for a little while longer, as he finds you cute and loves to see what attempts you will make to get his attention, when you don’t know you already got it.

Be prepared for a lot of cheesiness and teasing with this man, unless he’s turning you down. He’ll always be considerate of your feelings, though.

Smoker

He will not see it, no matter how obvious it is, so you either have to tell him straight up how you feel or hope someone else will point it out to him.

This man will be a flushed mess, once he finds out that you’re crushing on him. He will not know how to react at first.

For him to even consider any kind of relationship with him, you’ll have to be a good person. He isn’t the type to fall for the bad guy, as he takes his duty as a marine seriously (protecting the innocent and common people from the bad ones).

You’ll have to convince him that dating you isn’t bad and you can work it out. It takes some convincing, even if he likes you. Be prepared to live on the sea, hunting down pirates – especially going after Luffy –if he decides to give the two of you a chance.

Not one for showing PDA, so don’t expect much affection, unless you’re alone.

He will be smiling a little more, no matter if he likes you or not, because just the knowledge of someone liking him for who he is, is worth smiling over.

[bbyjackie]

𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐄'𝐒 𝐆𝐅 — ♡

one piece social media + dating pt.2 feat: ace

♡ liked by chef.thatch, marco_o and 11.4k others

_ynln: mad he lost a handstand contest to some kid 🥱🥱

tagged: ace

ace: tell me how i got rated a 6/10 and that rat of a human got 9/10 🫤

↳ marco_o: you definitely got bullied as a kid with that attitude (liked by chef.thatch, _ynln, yamatoto)

↳ _ynln: MARCO JWVFIJBVFQO 😭😭

↳ ace: just letting you guys know, i wasn't bullied. i was the bully 💪💪

↳ izou.u: that does NOT make it any better

↳ saaaa_bo: why are you proud of that, all you did was bully luffy

↳ ace: now i'm not saying i stand with bullying but.. ☝️

↳ yamatoto: BUT WHAT???

p1rateking_luffy: Hehe Ace remember when we used to have handstand contests and Makino was the judge! 😁

↳ _ynln: omg that sounds adorable

↳ ace: yeah and you would fall on your head

↳ ace: makes sense why you're so stupid

↳ p1rateking_luffy: what does that mean

↳ ace: see what i'm saying

↳ saaaa_bo: you're literally the last person that can say anything

♡ liked by nicorobin, p1rateking_luffy and 9.6k others

_ynln: girls don’t want no scrubs!

[music: No Scrubs - TLC ♫]

tagged: lovenami, nicorobin

nicorobin: had so much fun with you 💗

↳ _ynln: I MISS U ALREADY

ace: YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL I CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT THESE PHOTOS 😍😍❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💝💞💕❣️❣️

ace: I AM NOT A SCRUB GIVE ME A CHANCE!

↳ _ynln: stop i have a boyfriend

↳ ace: screw him, i'll fight your boyfriend

↳ _ynln: he'll mess u up

↳ ace: HE PROBABLY STINKS

↳ _ynln: yeah he does LMFAOO (liked by saaaa_bo, marco_o)

↳ ace: 😐😐

ace: PLEASE ONE CHANCE PLEASE 😩😩

↳ _ynln: YOURE SO ANNOYING 😭😭

lovenami: WHEN CAN WE HANG OUT AGAIN

↳ lovenami: I MISS MY HUSTLE PARTNER ALREADY

♡ liked by iampops, sh444nks and 13.1k others

_ynln: i want to be that dog so bad

tagged: ace

marco_o: holy shit i've never been jealous of a dog

↳ ace: dw u can kiss me anytime 😘

↳ marco_o: bruh no i meant i want to sock you in the face

sh444nks: HAHAHA this is so good

↳ _ynln: omg i made it in life, redhair shanks commented on my post????!

↳ iampops: Yn I comment too

izou.u: first photo made my day, thanks yn

↳ yamatoto: real!!1!

p1rateking_luffy: AHAHHAHAH THIS IS SO FUNNY HAHAHHA

saaaa_bo: this photo is free therapy

ace: WOW THIS COMMENT SECTION MADE ME REALISE ALL MY FRIENDS ARE FAKES

↳ yamatoto: so glad ur self aware!!

↳ _ynln: love u i swear!

↳ ace: u r full of shit

↳ _ynln:❣️

♡ liked by saaaa_bo, iampops and 18.4k others

ace: my pookie dookie 💩 💗

tagged: _ynln

_ynln: words can't explain how much i hate that caption

↳ ace: my sweet white mocha frappuccino with two pumps vanilla, chocolate drizzle and one scoop of java chips

↳ _ynln: omg wow i was so close to pressing the block button

_ynln: rare photo of ace w a shirt on ‼️

saaaa_bo: @_ynln blink twice if u need help

iampops: W photo 💪

↳ ace: POPS WHAT

↳ marco_o: WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT

↳ iampops: Big slay ☝️☝️

↳ iampops: Yn no cap 🚫

↳ izou.u: someone literally needs to come get their grandpa 😭

↳ _ynln: pops using colloquial language needs to be protected in a museum (liked by ace)

p1rateking_luffy: Yummy food 😋😋

[alexa-fika]

Just imagining cat child being a zoan cat type she loves napping in the sun(or cuddling against ace or marco) she would rather die than admit that she loves head pats.

When the crew gets to rowdy she just goes to nap next to pops.

Whenever they run into trouble on islands Ace is grinning before letting yn go and attack, because she's so tiny. She just bites the ankles

I think she'd get the nickname "ankle bitter"

Apawling Cattitude (Whitebeard pirates x f!Cat!child Reader)

A/N See what I did there 🐈 im so funny and goofy, anyhow I COOKED HERE, just pure cooked down below, especially on that ankle biter part 😎

Here Reader is replaced by Dokucha as place holder which stands for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Brother Marco, are you done yet?” the young child groans, lounging in one of his examining tables

“Not yet; there are still a few things I need to finish up,” Marco responds without even turning his head around

“I’m cold,” she whines

“There’s a storm outside, so I can’t warm up in the sun, and Ace fell asleep while eating again; you're the only source of heat around.”

He sighs, turning around on his chair and picking up the child from the table, putting them on his lap, and turning back around to his paper

“There, now will you let me finish these papers?”

She smiles, cuddling up to him and closing her eyes, basking in warmth

“You’re so warm, Brother Marco.”

“Yes, yes, I know, but you aren’t making my job easier.” He says as he works on finishing his papers, his actions betraying his words as he begins petting her head, scratching behind her ears

She hums, letting a loud purring sound at the sensation, leaning closer to him

He lets out a snicker at the sound

“Why are you laughing?” She mumbles

“Nothing.” He mumbles before continuing to scratch behind her ears

“I just remembered a conversation in which you said you did not fold at being petted,” he said with a chuckle

“Ten minutes ago, to be specific, if I am not mistaken.”

She jumps up at that, a frown on her young face

“I’ll have you know you are mistaken! I do not fold at something such as pets; I am not some stray cat!”

He raises his eyebrow

“Then, could you explain the purring I heard just a moment ago?”

“Yeah, you need to get your hearing checked.”

“Did you forget about my devil fruit?”

“Must be malfunctioning 'cause there is something wrong with em.”

“You’re such a brat; just admit you enjoy being petted.”

“Hmph,” she scoffed, jumping off his lap

“I'm going to go see if Brother Ace woke up; maybe his ears will be working better than yours, Brother Marco.”

He smiles, watching the child go, leaning his head on his hand

“Do come back if you want more,” he calls out

“Shut up!”

He snickers under his breath but says nothing else as she storms off

Tiny footsteps could be heard hitting against the boards of the Moby dick as Dokucha hurriedly made it to the mess hall, looking for her freckled brother, spotting the rambunctious man over in one of the tables

“Brother Ace, you’re up!” She hollered

Ace, sitting down in one of the tables with the rest of the brothers, quickly wolfs down his food at the sound of the voice

“What’s up?” He asks as he sees his sister approaching, raising an eyebrow

She stretches her hands towards him, opening and closing her hands

He chuckles at the motion before grabbing her and picking her up, placing her on his lap

“What is it, kitty cat?” He teases

“Nothing,” she smiles, cuddling up to him and his heightened warmth

“Sure.” He chuckles, rubbing her ears gently as they are on his hands

“Then why the sudden rush to see me?”

“Brother Marco was being mean, and I was cold,” she mumbles

He chuckles at the small girls voice

“Oh was he? You mean your kitty purr didn’t work on him?”

“I don’t purr!” She said once again, jumping up, glaring at him

“Hah, really?!” he gasps in fake surprise

“Could have sworn I heard it, din’t you, Thatch?” he asked with a grin, looking at his brother, who was putting some plates down on the table

Thatch chuckles, shaking his head with a grin

“I did hear a small purr, yes.”

She pouts about to tell them off when one of the tables when up in an uproar; by the look of it, one of her brothers had started a drinking competition once again

She sighed, jumping off Ace’s lap and continuing on her way to find a place to nap in peace

Whitebeard hums as he hears soft knocking at the door of his chambers

“Come in.”

“Papaw!” She whines, climbing her way into his bed

He chuckles as she climbs all over his bed

“Gurararara” he laughs scratching her head.

“What is it? Is there something you need?”

“Mess hall is too noisy; I wanna nap,” she said, cuddling into his chest with a smile, sighing in relief

“There,There .” He said strokinb her hair as she cuddles into his chest, his own soft smile growing as he looks down at his little one

“Sleep here for now, brats know to keep it down around here”

“Thank you, Papaw”

“Make sure to sleep well.”

Dokucha now sat on top of ace’s shoulders, leaning her face and hands on top of his head as they walked

“What are we looking for again?”

“Izou left ahead of us to intercept the guys we were after; we are his backup,” he answered as he briskly walked through the grassy field

“I see him. Okay, ankle biter, you’re up,” he said, grabbing the girl from his shoulders and putting her on the ground, kneeling down on the ground next to her

“See the guy with the red shirt? He’s a long-distance sniper; I need you to take him out while I go help Izou with the melee fighters.”

She grins, her two incisors poking out of her mouth as she did

“Bite?” she said, looking at her brother, waiting for permission

“Yes, you can bite; go get ’em.”

She grins, shifting into her cat form and running closer to the guy; once close enough, she began prowling, silently approaching the guy until she was right next to them, at which point she pounced on them, making quick work of them, removing their going and easily gaining a surrender

She shifted into her human form, grinning as she kneeled on the now fainted man, chuckling as she watched her brothers make quick work of the rest of the enemies

“Impressive.” Izou praised her, approaching the girl, Ace following behind him, looking down at the man she had incapacitated.

“You’re getting better at that,” he grins, rubbing her head

She gives him a toothy grin in response, purring at the affection

As a reward for her hard work, Izou decided not to comment on the very obvious purring coming out from her as he continued rubbing her head , her ears tilting and twitching as she enjoyed her hard-earned pampering

That scene where Dokucha was kneeling on top of the guy, I was thinking of that one scene where young shanks was doing the same, eating chocolate (?)

Shanks really be stealing hearts since back then, I ‘ll take 1000 chapters on Roger pirates, Thank you < 3

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[alicedash2]

Izou x Teenager!Reader - puberty and crushes

not reviewed

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Since YN came to the ship, it's been a blast, but let me tell you from the beginning!

Izou arrived with YN on his lap, a small girl with a miserable appearance, who held tightly to Izou, hiding her face in the older's chest, he ran his fingers through the dry and broken hair of the small miserable girl, who managed to touch the heart from the gunslinger of the Whitebeard ship, the way Izou hugged him comfortingly made her stop shivering

The girl turned her head a little to see the men staring at her with curiosity, but soon YN turned her head again hiding, hearing the man's voice comforting her that everything would be fine, that YN was safe

Marco approaches, Izou hands her over, but the little girl refuses to leave and stay away from Izou, because he was the one who found her, who calmed her down in that state of shock and abandonment.

What happened is that YN had been abandoned in a humiliating way, left to die on a desert island, just for not fulfilling one of the family's standards and refusing to submit to that tradition where YN would already have a destiny sealed by the family, destined to become marry a rich pervert man and raise an unhappy family

It was night when YN was found, crying under a tree, alone and in the cold at night, when a man approached by hearing the cries, the same man saw the deplorable situation and decided to ask what had happened, which in which, the little child spoke to the cries and hiccups, Izou, seeing that the little one had already spent a week on the island, decides to take the little one to the ship

- it's going to be fine, you need to go with him now - Izou smiles at the girl, who shakes her head in protest and goes to the man again, behind his comforting hug

- you need to go with him, princess, I'll see you soon - Izou gently pushed her away, Marco took her to his office where he examined her and asked questions

After a few hours of sedatives and questions, YN snuggled into the dream world.

- she needs to rest, she hasn't eaten for 4 days - Marco said, leaving the girl's room

- I'll take care of her, I'll be responsible for her from now on - Izou spoke, he knew that the girl would take some time to get used to the ship and all those people, it would be an extreme change in the little girl's life

- are you sure? It's a child, taking care of a child is difficult -

- but we can't leave her in that situation, I'm the only one she knows, everything will be fine -

Hours pass, the girl wakes up, the moment she wakes up, she tries to remember what had happened, then, noticing the place where she was, she goes looking for the man who rescued her, who, in which, was in the kitchen talking to Thatch, she runs to him and hugs him tightly

- did you sleep well? -she asked, while the girl just felt comfortable in Izou's embraces, who nodded positively

And so, a wonderful friendship was born.

Izou treated YN like a princess, taught and educated her, not that the others didn't do something, YN always had something to learn from them, it was a fun life, even if they spent days in the ocean, rain or shine, when they docked in an island, it was just a party, Izou took YN shopping and spoiled her, liked to get into trouble with kids her age

Here, a list of things Izou said to YN

- that's not what I taught you!-

-don't get in trouble, you're a lady!-

- I warned you not to go there! I told you you'd get hurt -

- come with me, no need to be afraid -

°•°•°

One day, on a peaceful island, the Whitebeard crew was exploring an island, and on that island, Izou lost sight of YN, desperately looking for the child who was migrating to adolescence, with her 14 years old, desperately looking for her, asking the people saw a small teenage girl with flashy outfits (Izou had lent one of her clothes to YN)

Until, in one person, the person said that he saw a girl crying near a square that was nearby, Izou goes there, looking for the girl, when he finds her, he runs to her, thinking that something had happened

- what happened?! You can't disappear like that, come with me- Izou spoke

- I can't leave here... I hurt myself, I think, but I can't leave -

- like this?-

- It's... red- YN said with shame

- red? Blood? To where?!-

-hmmm I don't know what happened, it was sudden! If I leave here I will be ashamed! I soiled your clothes, sorry!-

- don't worry, where did you hurt yourself?-

- ...hmm - YN refused to answer

The girl gets up and turns her back to Izou, where she sees a small bloodstain on the bottom of her clothes.

-ah, tie this around your waist, let's go to the ship-

- what happened?-

- It's normal, stay calm!-

- it hurts, I can't walk -

Izou picked her up gently, and carried her to the ship, thinking about how he was going to tell her about this.

When they arrived, the girl was going to take a shower, after the bath, Izou took her to the infirmary, together with Marco, they prepared to welcome the small and new teenager who officially migrated to puberty

- look, you didn't get hurt, but this will happen every month, okay?-

- but what is this?-

- you're ovulating, it's something that happens every month when you don't reproduce, your body is throwing things out-

- oh, I understand-

- listen to me, you're going to feel new things, you're going to think new things, you're going to want new things, it's a new moment, you're in puberty, you're going to see your body change, it's going to be a little difficult time, but we're going to help you-

- what happened? YN, why are you crying?-

- she... just entered puberty, she's suffering because it's something new and painful, she's scared-

-here, I'm sure you want this- Whitebeard extended his hand with sweets and treats, making the girl smile and say thank you

- I'll take you to your room, your body needs to rest, Marco took her to the room, where the girl lay down and relax in her bed

- in these moments, it's good to drink plenty of water, it can help you -

- I understood!-

- good girl, you are slowly becoming an adult-

-adult?-

-yes, it is a process in which you are changing from being a child to becoming a young and beautiful adult-

- hmmm-

- well, I'm going, you can call me if you have any problems -

Marco was leaving the room, when he came across Izou, who looked a little upset

- your child is gone, is starting to become a teenager -

-she grew up so fast-

- now to take care of her will be more difficult -

- my little one is starting to become a young adult -

- soon she will get married and you won't even notice the notion of time -

Izou smiled, wiping a small tear in his eye, he knocked on the door and entered YN's room, who received him with smiles

-Izou!-

- I didn't even realize how much you've grown, YN!-

- Marco said I'm becoming a young adult -

- you look beautiful, know this, you are just a flower that just bloomed on a warm spring day -

Izou stroked YN's hair, who smiled passionately at Izou

°•°•°•°•

- who is she?- a red-haired boy saw a female form

- I don't remember seeing her in Whitebeard's crew- a boy with blue hair and a clown nose also saw the girl, they spied on her through a tree, the boy with blue hair, called Buggy, looked away and looks at his friend, who blushes and smiles as he catches sight of the small young woman

The boy, newly in love, walked timidly towards the girl, who quickly noticed the boy's presence.

- ehm... hi - the boy said shyly

- hey...-

- w-what's your name?-

- YN...you?-

-S-Shanks...-

- hm...-

- He knows?-

- hm, what?-

- I thought you were cute and beautiful!-

- thank you, I-I thought you were very charming!-

- thank you, do you want to... go with me, walk?-

-I would love!-

Shanks gently takes the girl's hand and they leave the island, talking shyly, sometimes praising and receiving more gentle touches, such as gently squeezing the other's hand, running a hand through his hair and touching the other's leg lightly, the peak was when Shanks kissed her gently on the cheek

- sorry, I had to do that...- the boy hid his face in his hat, incredulous of what he had just done

- It's okay... I like it-

- I'll take you to your ship, it's getting late -

- Sure, thanks, Shanks!-

- I can't believe it!- Izou saw all that hidden, he knew there was something going on, YN had suddenly disappeared, but she always came back, what did she find so interesting to leave and spend hours without returning?

After YN entered the ship, already at night, Izou stayed behind her.

- are you going out with a crew member from Roger?-

- Ah!- Izou! Don't scare me like that!-

- tell me -

- n-not exactly, he just asked me for a walk!-

- you're growing up too fast, YN! Watch out for him!- Izou said

- just because he is a crew member of Roger?-

- no, actually he's a boy! A boy going through puberty! It's dangerous!-

- I don't understand - YN made a confused face, they were just young people in love!

- you should be more careful with who you're going to start having a relationship with, young lady! -

- b-but - YN was cut off by Izou, Izou had an almost angry face, he was just worried about YN being used by a boy who would break the heart of the young girl he had just fallen in love with

- just be careful! Adolescence is the worst time to be in a relationship -

- You're being annoying, Izou!-

- I'm just doing you a favor to warn you, dear! I wish you well, do you like Shanks?-

-yes, he even lent me his hat!-

- ...I'm going to talk to dad, come with me!-

- but I only talked to Shanks -

- it doesn't matter! -

- humpf!- YN pouted and rolled her face

- it's no use pouting or snorting, it's still early for you-

- YN going out with someone? How mature! - Marco said with a sarcastic smile.

- no! I won't accept that, she's not mature, he kissed her on the cheek!-

-but it was just a kiss-

- no! You do not understand!-

- Marco, defend me! -

- Izou, she's in her teens, let her experience love!-

- never! Come on, YN, we have a long talk yet!- Izou holds YN's hand and takes it to Whitebeard, closing the door behind them

- how much drama...-

And Izou took her to Whitebeard, to report what had happened, Whitebeard didn't like Shanks very much, but seeing that his youngest daughter fell in love for the first time was something beautiful, but it awakened the protective instinct in Izou, at the In the end, Izou ended up listening to Whitebeard's words to let YN feel new emotions, be they good, having a relationship and the bad, rejection, it was a new phase and YN needed new experiences, but with care and guidance

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Chapter 1 - Next - Masterlist - Playlist - Art - Ao3

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: princess bride!AU, pirate!izuku, reader is in an arranged marriage with someone else, angst, smut, brief mentions of alcoholism and drinking too much, izuku spends some time as a prisoner of war, specifically as a galley slave, implied SA but not to yn or Izuku

this is the first chapter for my entry of @thegetoufather's into the movieverse collab!

It was a quiet evening. A blanket of stars had been rolled over the sky overhead, and was tucked lovingly in at the corners of the horizon by the fingers of thin, wispy clouds. The moon was big and bright above a balcony of smooth marble; tiny bare feet slapped and tapped against the coldness of the floor. Saffron curtains, dancing in the wind brought by distant waves, were parted by gentle hands, and a mother looked out between them to find her child sitting sulky and slumped against the wicker furniture that faced the sea. 

“And just what are you doing up?”

The child— a little girl— turned her head to look at her mother. Her eyes were deepest green, and freckles spattered her nose and cheeks. 

"Can't sleep," she replied in a small voice, blinking blearily. "I want a story."

The mother smiled. With quiet steps, she slipped out from behind the curtains and onto the balcony, sitting next to her child. She drew the girl close, tucking her into the warmth of her side, and stared out at the ocean, watching the waves crash against the shore. 

“I know a few good stories,” she said. “Which one do you want to hear?”

The little girl turned to her mother and smiled

“The one about the pirate and the princess!”

The mother smiled in return.

“The one about true love?”

“Of course!”

The stars above twinkled merrily as if to agree, and a seagull cried in the distance.

“Very well,” said the mother. “It all started long ago, on a little farm far away from here… ”

***

Izuku Midoriya held his hat in his hands.

Nervous and trembling, he stood before a small, thatch-roofed cottage, struggling to pin his wriggling resolve in one place as he waited for the owner to answer his knock. The master of the house, he knew, was a hard, weathered man, but a fair one; he had shown Izuku nothing but kindness since he had come to work on his farm. Izuku had no reason to expect that to change now. No reason at all.

Well, no reason except that the man might not take kindly to Izuku’s intentions to marry his daughter. No reason except that.

The door to the cottage opened, and the owner greeted him.

“What can I do for you, son?”

The farmer stood a head taller and a foot wider in the doorway before him, and Izuku swallowed thickly.

“I want to talk to you, sir,” he said. “It’s about your daughter.”

Izuku was no stranger to fear. He had faced down man and beast alike in defense of this very farmer’s flock of sheep. Each time he had encountered a wolf, a lion, or bandit, he was tasked with driving away the threat with nothing more than a few rocks and a simple sling— and each time, he had been faced with the heavy, daunting fear that he might not escape the encounter alive. He had learned long ago that that was the way of things; fight to live, to protect what is yours, or let fear consume you and die. It was simple, easy. It was the way of things.

This was different. This was something else entirely. 

The farmer studied him. His eyes hardened with something akin to grudging pity, and he nodded to himself. 

"Let's take a walk."

Izuku agreed, and the farmer fell in step beside him. 

For a while, they walked in silence. They walked past fence posts and chicken coops and barking dogs nipping the heels of sheep. They walked uphill and downhill and all around the spaces in-between. Izuku allowed himself to breathe the earthy scent of hay bales and cow patties, to feel the shifting of the dirt path beneath his feet. The farmer seemed to be doing much the same. 

They came to a halt after walking for about half a mile. Together, they stood upon a hill overlooking the farm, and the farmer turned to Izuku and said,

"Son, I want you to tell me what you see when you look out from the top of this hill."

Izuku looked. Izuku saw. 

"I see land, sir."

The farmer grunted. 

"Land," he agreed. "Boy, you've been here for a few years now— you know as well as anyone around here that this ground has a heartbeat. She talks to you, if you listen. What does she say to you?"

Izuku wasn't sure what the farmer meant by that question, but he answered as truthfully as he could.

"I love this land," he replied, watching as a butterfly landed on a nearby wildflower. "It's as much of a home as I've known. It sustains me— er, us— and it's a good land. I think when we love it, it loves us back."

The farmer nodded, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. 

"To me, this land is everything," he said. "She's my first priority, second only to my daughter, my son, and the memory of my wife, God rest her soul. I lived here as a boy as my father did, and his father before him. This land has tasted my blood and my sweat and my tears, as well as that of my ancestors a century back."

The farmer turned to look at Izuku. 

"You don't know what it is to carry that burden, or that blessing, and I'm sorry for it. You're a good lad."

Izuku wasn't sure what to say to that, so he said nothing. 

"I know why you're here, what you wanted to talk about," the farmer continued. "My daughter loves you. Any fool could see it, and my God— my God, son, do you love her. It's written all over you, so strong and deep I wonder if you were born loving her."

The farmer shook his head. 

"But you don't have what she needs, son. You don't know land, you don't know home. You can't give her a life equal to this one. As you are, you're unfit, unworthy— you're not someone who can provide for her."

Unfit. Unworthy. 

"I won't let you marry her. I can't, not in good conscience."

Izuku's blood ran cold, and he felt a little queasy.

"I'm sorry," the farmer said, and Izuku knew he meant it. 

"I understand, sir." 

Oh, yes, Izuku understood. He understood better than he had a right to understand. He couldn't even blame the man. After all, what fool would let his daughter marry a farm boy with no prospects?

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" he asked, quiet and desperate, and the farmer nodded. 

"Go and make something of yourself," said the farmer. "Earn coin, buy dirt. Even if you don't have a roof over your head, if you have land, you have a fighting chance in this world— that's all I ask in exchange for my baby girl. If you can give her that, son, there's no man I'd rather see her happy with."

That was fair, Izuku decided as his nostrils burned and his eyes filled with tears. If nothing else, it was a chance— and Izuku was willing to take it, seize it by the throat. He would do anything for the woman he loved. 

"I won't disappoint you, sir," he said, his voice beginning to warble slightly. "I— I'll have to leave the farm, though, probably after the harvest, and—"

Izuku's voice broke, and the farmer patted him on the shoulder. 

"If you're going to seek your fortune, you're gonna need to be able to fight. I have an old friend that can give you all the knowledge you need— he lives in the village. When we go next week, I'll introduce you."

Izuku nodded, wiping the tears from his cheek, and the farmer studied him once more. 

"Good luck, Izuku Midoriya. You're going to need it."

With that, the farmer started down the hill, leaving Izuku there to cry, wringing every last tear from himself so that when he told his lover the news, he could do so with dry eyes and more composure than he could ever feel. 

***

“Mean old farmer,” said the little girl, crossing her arms. “He must not have believed in true love, ‘cause true love conkers-all!”

The mother shook her head, her expression serious.

“Not all,” she said. “True love  is one thing, but survival is another. In those days, life was harder, rougher. The farmer's land would pass to his oldest son— his daughter's younger brother. Izuku needed money and land so that he could take care of his love."

The child frowned.

“That’s dumb.”

The mother hummed. 

“Maybe,” she said. “But it was the way of things.”

All was silent for a moment, and the distant crashing of waves filled the lull. The child shivered, and the mother held her close. 

“So what about Izuku’s lover?” the girl asked. “How did she take the news?”

“She was devastated." The mom shook her head. "She cried, then begged Izuku to run away with her, to marry anyway despite her father’s wishes— but he refused. Izuku was too honorable to do such a thing. He told her he would wait for her, and even if she would not wait for him, he would rather die himself than sully her reputation or disrespect her person."

Pointedly, the mother did not mention what else the young woman had begged for, or what Izuku Midoriya had valiantly refused. Her daughter would be old enough to understand that one day, but not today. 

"She still loved him though, right?"

"Of course she did," the mother smiled. "After all, at the end of the day, true love conquers all."

The little girl nodded in solemn agreement. 

***

Dawn's greedy pink fingers gripped the sky, clawing its way past the horizon. Shades of gold, red, and dusty pink followed in its wake, stark against the faded blue of the sky, and (Y/N) cursed it, wishing the sun never to rise again. 

"Must you go?"

Beside her, Izuku Midoriya was crying. Together, they stood alone on the outskirts of the farm, watching as the sun made its slow, insidious journey from east to west, her soft hands gripping both of his large, calloused ones. Her eyes mapped his face again and again and again, tracing every freckle, every line of his frown, knowing today would be the last time she saw them for a very long time.

Maybe ever. 

"I must," Izuku told her, his voice cracking. "I want to make you happy."

You already have, (Y/N) wanted to say, but they'd had that argument countless times already. Starting a fight on this day of all days was the last thing she wanted to do. 

"Can I not persuade you to stay a bit longer? To put it off for another year or so, until… until I feel more ready?"

In response, Izuku took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles sweetly, slowly, reverently. His skin glowed a lovely golden color in the early morning light, and although (Y/N) had never seen an emerald, she decided then and there that no measly rock could ever compare to golden sunlight in the green eyes of her lover. 

"I will come back," he told her, strong and sure despite his tears. "I swear I will come back to you, darling— but this is something I have to do."

It was not good enough. It had never been good enough. (Y/N) was dying and he hadn't even left yet. How was she to manage months, maybe years alone?

"Take me with you."

It was not the first time she had made that same plea. Still, Izuku just shook his head, wiping away tear tracks almost angrily.

"No." His voice was strong, final. "You're too precious for me to risk."

As are you, (Y/N) wanted to say— but once more, she held her tongue. As if he knew what her silence cost her, Izuku drew her to him and kissed her forehead, his chapped lips soft against her skin. 

When they drew away from one another, (Y/N) noticed a shadow on the horizon. Across the way, in the direction of the village, (Y/N) could see a tall, broad figure approaching over the crest of a hill. The shadowy shape belonged to someone she had come to know well enough to despise a little, and her mouth turned downwards of its own accord as she noticed his approach. 

"Looks like your friend is here," she said somewhat miserably, and Izuku grinned a little crookedly. 

"Don't be so hard on Kacchan," Izuku admonished teasingly, squeezing her hand. "He's got mommy issues."

Despite herself, (Y/N) choked out a laugh, then a giggle— soon, both she and Izuku were breaking out into peals of laughter, and the grumpiest bastard from the next village was upon them in all his scowling glory. 

"'Dunno what's so fuckin' funny, but it's too early for that shite," Bakugou grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets against the cold. "Cut it out or I'll gag the both of you."

"We will not," (Y/N) shot back, prepared to go toe-to-toe with the man— but then she looked at Bakugou, really looked at him, and when she did, she found a deep, aching sadness behind his eyes. 

He's lashing out because he's in pain, she realized, and promptly felt like a fool. 

"Whatever."

Bakugou turned away, posture rigid— but (Y/N) was not one to let her wrongs go unaddressed for long. She left the comfort of Izuku's touch and approached Bakugou, patting his broad shoulder with a gentle hand. 

"I'm sorry," she told him sincerely. "I know you must be sad about leaving the village."

"Tch." 

Apparently, that was apology accepted in Bakugou speak, because he turned to face her for long enough to allow her a glimpse at the tears in his eyes. Izuku must have seen it too, because he walked over and slung an arm over Bakugou's shoulders, pulling him close in a way that Bakugou might once have attempted homicide over before they had begun training together. Now, though, it seemed as though a bond had developed between the two of them, so Bakugou just scowled, grumbled something unintelligible, and let Izuku comfort him. 

The three of them stood like that for a while— Izuku's arm around Bakugou, and his other hand in (Y/N)'s— until the sun had climbed too high in the sky to permit them to tarry any longer. Slowly, tenderly, Izuku disentangled himself from both of them, and placed both of his hands on either side of (Y/N)'s face. 

"Oh, don't cry, love," he said, though (Y/N) couldn't help the hot tears that stung her cheeks. "It destroys me when you cry."

Never mind that his own eyes were filled with tears— he kissed hers away, which only made her want to cry more. 

"You must come back to me, Izuku," she told him, her voice weak and watery. "If you don't— I just know I'll never love again!"

Izuku shook his head with the smallest smile, and pressed his lips against her forehead. 

"I swear to you, I will come back," he said against her skin, "and when I do, I'll put a ring on your finger and build you a home, any home, exactly as you want it."

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around him then, and Izuku held her close. With her head against his chest, she could hear his rapid heartbeat. 

A moment later, they pulled away. 

"Goodbye, darling," Izuku told her, his eyes wet and gleaming. "I love you."

Tears threatened to choke her, but (Y/N) conquered them manfully. 

"I love you, Izuku. Come back to me."

At that, he smiled.

"As you wish, my love." 

In something of a dramatic gesture, Izuku grabbed her hand and kissed it— a last goodbye— before he turned, starting off in the direction of the sun. 

In the direction of his destiny.

Bakugou turned to follow, but (Y/N) stopped him with a hand on his bicep.

"Take care of him," she pleaded, and Bakugou's eyes widened. 

"Uh, okay," Bakugou agreed. "Yeah— yeah, sure."

As far as reassurances go, it wasn't the best— but the fact that it wasn't a vehement fuck no was comforting. 

With that, both boys were off, leaving (Y/N) alone to watch them as they went. From the hill she stood on, (Y/N) could see them for a long way, and she watched them until she could no longer distinguish their forms from that of trees. 

Farewell, Izuku Midoriya, she thought, closing her eyes against her tears. May the gods go with you. 

[kriz-fics]

The Sword’s Legacy

Series Summary: As the heir of your father's lands, you have grown up knowing that one day you must wed to your House's advantage, and there's no better catch than the younger son of the Magister himself. Meanwhile tensions within the king's court are set to come to a head at any moment - it just needs that spark to send everything ablaze. Now in a court more dangerous than the one you entered, you find distraction and joy in the company of the beautiful boy with the beautiful eyes. You can only hope to weather the storm you can sense brewing in the horizon.

Masterlist

Chapter Twelve: Blood and Knights

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, Historical Fantasy AU, Romance, Politics, Warfare, Eventual Smut (future chapters)

Length: 8.5K

CW: Graphic violence, YN being horny (not graphic, unfortunately. Not yet, at least ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )

Tut-tut, it looks like rain.

The fact of which does not please the more uppity lords, Eren observes, eyes flickering from one delicate man to the next and trying not to let his disdain bleed into his features. That little mouse of a man, Anton Taran, looks as skittish as the pest he resembles; the Procurator’s small watery eyes dart to the sky above and back to the orating king, hands behind his back and bouncing ever so lightly on his heels, eager to scamper into his nice and dry hole before the sky breaks. Proctor Nick is little better standing next to him. The slight curl of his lip and the way those deep-set eyes sweep out across the grounds and into the gray above gives away his sentiments about the weather. Near the center of the line of councilmen Willy Tybur stands beside Lord Grisha, mouth set in a thin line as he looks upon the proceedings with his best approximation of the courtier’s hollow face stamped upon his highbred visage. Like his fellows, he is showing undue interest in the ether and their environs. It cannot have been any plainer that these men are in a tizzy to make an end of things quickly.

It is not as if they don’t have a bloody canopy above their feeble heads. Even the king and his son seem made of sterner stuff. The Prince of Crownglen Urklyn Reiss is standing upon the covered stage at the center of the newly rebuilt village, grave and regal, as his father Rod Reiss I holds forth at the front of the platform. The royal pair does not give two shits about the weather, which is more than can be said for their prickly underlings. 

What is a little rain upon their noble bodies? It is only water.

Eren shifts a little in his place within the squires’ row, the weight of plate and mail upon his person a familiar load, comforting even. He and his peers are standing below the stage to the right, close enough at hand to their masters should they have the unfortunate need to be squired for that day. The masters, barring the Lord Commander, are standing below the stage to the front, a forbidding barrier between the highborn and the low.

The royal pair, the Conclave, the lords Skaryn and Halkin, and the guards -  the Royal Guard among them - are the only ones of the court in attendance at the royal pardon. The rest of the nobility are at Merrydell, awaiting their coming so they may feast and celebrate the end of the Northern Matter beneath the Skaryns’ roof in the company of those who have been pardoned.

Mossreach is unrecognizable from the desolation it had been half a year ago. The burnt-out husks and the dead buried beneath snow and crows have been cleared away. Banners of a dozen colors flutter everywhere, green and red, maroon and white, purple, purple most of all from the royal standards flying the royal sigil: the head of the Founding Titan, with its purple eyes large and haunting and flaring, upon a purple field. The cottages that litter the sward are freshly-thatched and new-made, the land green and lush and unburnt. Even its people have been restored.

The king’s speech washes over Eren, something about the Mother’s mercy and the Father’s forgiveness and what other diplomatic tripe his Heralds have taught him to say to appease his malcontent masses.

Which is all well and good, for these ones. The cleared-away dead will beg to differ, their living kin more so. But as they have been banished to their true homes in the Midlands, they can hardly raise a hue and cry. Not that they truly can. Whatever hues and cries they may have raised have fallen on deaf ears, as the grievances of their northern foemen had fallen on deaf ears at the start of all of this.

And thus do the tables turn. So much for the Father’s justice. Rows of northmen face the platform, eyes trained on their king. Some are tall, some are short, some young, some old, some slight and some stout, yet somehow, they all look the same in Eren’s eyes. It is the hardness in their bearing, the hardness of the North, the same hardness he sees in Robert the Lawyer, who is standing beside the Crown Prince with that proud mien blazing like his red robes. Even their elderly, their women, and their children have traces of it, Eren can see as he watches them stand at the fringes of it all, every bit as stony as their men. Hard lands breed a hard folk. 

Admiration rises in him, despite all. They may have escaped justice for the lives they took so savagely yet there is something laudable about the way they fought for what is theirs by rights. Had the crown set out to crush them at the very onset of their offensive, Eren knows they would be hard-pressed to smash them down. They are the sort of foe he can enjoy pushing against, a foe strong of will and might.

Willy Tybur turns his head a fraction, to look towards the bordering woods for the hundredth time. Eren follows his gaze and looks upon the fount of his greatest shame. He feels his insides shrivel up at the memory but forces himself to hold and keep his eyes fixed on the green. 

Half a year gone and still it will not leave him no matter how much he thinks he has put it behind him. He wonders if he will ever truly be free of it and feels cold. The prospect of carrying that weight for the rest of his life is not an appealing one. I’ll rid myself of it for good and all no matter what it takes. He will know when to stop moving when needs must. Redemption is not beyond him yet.

A shadow stirs within the trees. Eren narrows his eyes, squinting at the treeline. Shades? But shades shine silver…

Ping!

The sky breaks at last, and Eren inwardly scowls as the fat droplets batter his helm, filling his ears to bursting with the endless clangor of ringing steel. He will be deaf by day’s end, like as not, with a splitting headache to boot. He would have removed the helm yet etiquette demands it stays on. This is not the first he’s worn steel in such weather yet he always removes the headpiece when not in active combat; he’d rather suffer the torrent full-on than go mad from that metallic racket.

Dusk seems to fall early today and the loud crashing of the rain upon them all only adds to the din inside his head. The world shrinks to his helm. Ping, ping, ping, ping, ping. So when the men come boiling out of the woods, their war cries one with the storm, Eren can only stare, uncomprehending.

Screams join the discordant symphony, and then madness besets them all.

Bodies are flying everywhere, men, women, and children all a-flutter like a flock of startled pigeons in some park, seeking to evade the oncoming attackers. They need not have bothered with that very convincing display; the raiders give them no more heed than Eren would an ant beneath his feet and flow right through them as water flows through rock.

Battle is joined moments later and there is no more thought, only the ancient animal wisdom of the flesh that tells him to move.

To be still is to die.

And he is moving, running, running toward his master with his sword in hand. A man looms out of the wet like a leviathan from the deep but Eren bulls forward with nary a pause. The outlaw bellows and swings down his hammer; Eren dodges aside, and his blade punches through leather, steel, and flesh. He pulls his sword free, feeling the steel scrape bone, and is moving once more before the corpse can hit the ground. He dispatches a second and a third man in like manner, and at last he is beside his master, guarding his back as a good squire should.

There is no end to them, these leviathans from the deep. Hardly has he cut down one than another will take his place, and the world tapers down to action and reaction, kill or be killed.

It is sometime later - a minute, an hour, a day - when Eren realizes his master is nowhere to be found. The tide of battle has parted them and there are only enemies. He hacks down across the face of a northman hard, and his head dissolves into bits of brain and bone and blood. Another falls beneath his steel, blood spurting from his open throat. And still they come, again and again and again, until somehow they are not.

The brief respite allows Eren time to take stock of his surroundings properly. He has been driven back to the canopied platform where the king had made his speech. He sweeps his gaze around, hardly sparing the scattered corpses around him a second thought, and watches the chaos of battling men amidst falling rain. He is utterly confounded by it all. They laid down their arms and swore never to take them up again. A faint whimper resounds from somewhere close by, and he turns, eyes widening in shock at the sight of the king huddling beneath the covered stage. Why is he still here? Where are the guards? Eren runs to him at once.

“Your Majesty, you have to get out of here!” he calls over the pouring rain and heaves at the royal arm to get him moving. The king looks up at him with terror in his wide blue eyes, but recognition soon follows and he is moving, meek and unresisting as the son of his Magister guides him away from the horror and the savagery.

They have hardly gone a couple of yards when something rams into them, knocking the king and squire off their feet and sending them sprawling in the mud. Eren rolls onto his back, stunned, the taste of rain and mud heavy on his tongue. The force of the charge had wrenched his sword from his hand and sent his helm flying off his head, though he is hardly given time to mourn the loss.

A man is atop him all of a sudden and silver steel gleams bright and deadly at him out of the murky gloom. There is no time for thought or fear. Eren grabs his foeman’s arm with both hands as it falls toward his face, and their lethal struggle commences. The man claws uselessly at one of his gloved hands, trying to pry his fingers open, but Eren holds on the tighter and pushes, straining with gritted teeth. The blade is all he can see, it is the only thing that exists in the world, the blade and its tip sharp as any needle, any razor… and it is coming ever closer no matter how much he pushes, closer and closer to the center of his forehead…

The northman pulls back an arm, his hand closing into a fist. Eren sees and catches the blow one-handed but near pays for it with an eye. The enemy’s blade slips and slices him clean just above his eyebrow, and the left half of his world goes black as blood drips down his eye. 

There is no pain yet the sensation of steel cutting his flesh sends a shock of clarity through him as though he has been doused with ice-cold water. He manages to get a leg beneath the man’s ribs and knees, hard. That shock of clarity lends strength to his limbs, and the outlaw is tossed aside, wheezing. 

Eren does not wait for him to recover. He scrabbles, half-blind, in the mud for his sword, feels relief - sweet, blessed relief - course through him as his fingers brush against something hard and metallic. Footsteps splash behind him and he does not pause to think. He strikes, his sword swinging out in a perfect arc, and his foeman falls back into the mud to rise no more. Eren leaves him there, with half his entrails spilling out onto the watery ground, to search for his king.

He finds him where he first saw him, beneath the wooden scaffolding of the stage. They had not gone very far before the dead man accosted them. “Your Majesty, it’s all right, I can keep you safe,” Eren avows, reaching for his liege. The smell of fear bears toward him and it smells of piss, faint and dampened by the rain yet wholly recognizable, as the king holds onto him with surprising strength. Eren pays it no heed. Piss, shit, blood, and sweat, the soldier learns to tolerate all, even the foulest of stenches. It is the stink of battle, and delicate men with delicate noses do not long survive in the field. The king is well within his rights to piss in terror. 

His Majesty and his acting guard once again make for safer ground, though where that is Eren does not know. Still the rain pours down in ceaseless buckets, and it welds his left eye close. There is as yet no pain but he knows that is not a good thing; he is not even sure the bleeding has stopped entirely. They have to get to safety and soon. For loathe though he is to admit it, something deep, deep down inside him recognizes that he is in no good state to be fighting much longer, with half his vision compromised such as it is. The king will not be harmed under his watch, gods help him.

Men dart around them, friend and foe both, their footsteps churning the red-brown mud into a frothing boil. Eren surveys the gray village as best he can with only one eye, looking for the royal congregation, or better yet a temple so they may claim the right of sanctuary…

The gods are with him, and he almost sinks to his knees in relief at the sight of a temple at the borders of the village - ruined, crumbled, blackened with fire but still a temple, and still well-placed to grant them safety by all the laws of the land.

Pain, red pain erupts up his right arm, and he drops his sword to the muddy ground. An arrow, he thinks with mild surprise as he stares down at the shaft protruding from his armored limb. It had punched through the plate as though it is nothing more than silk. Now where had he seen that before? And since when did they start using arrows? He does not have the chance to ruminate.

An outlaw is before him and his liege once more, axe raised to cleave one or the both of them in two. They are endless and everywhere, these outlaws, like fucking roaches. Distantly, Eren hears what sounds like the king bleat out, “Oh, gods be good,” as Eren shoves his royal person behind him to protect him, uselessly, with his body.

A foot of red-tipped steel bursts from the northman’s mouth like some grotesque tongue. His eyes widen and turn glassy in quick succession, and the axe tumbles from his hands. His pointed tongue retreats from his bloodied maw and his corpse falls to reveal Sir Levi Ackerman. The cycle of relief giving way to tension and back again is turning Eren’s head around, yet he is pleased to see his master all the same.

Sir Levi’s eyes flash from his face toward his injured arm and his mouth tightens. “Get the king to the temple, most of our men have taken sanctuary there. Me and the rest will throw the outlaws back. Go!”

For one mad moment, Eren wants to argue. He can still fight, still hold his own, yet the way his master’s eyes blaze up at him gives him pause. His arm is worse than useless now and better still he is half-blind, he will only get in the way. And he has the king to protect, a king who is in very real peril of being savaged if he insists on continuing the way he is now. His pigheadedness will spill royal blood in his hands, a much more dire consequence than a Lord Commander’s missing arm.

The king will not be harmed under his watch. 

Eren swallows, bites his tongue, and nods jerkily. He stirs the petrified king onward, favoring his right arm, and lets the others put the outlaws to flight.

“Any luck with Halkin and Skaryn?”

His sire sighs, unendingly weary. “I hardly think this is the right time and place to speak of politics.”

But, Father, the weather and my happy domestic affairs hardly make for scintillating conversation. Zeke turns away from the dark world outside the wrought iron window to glance at Lord Grisha in his seat beside the canopied bed. “Well, since we’ve thoroughly exhausted the topic of our dear youngest here, we had as well talk about matters of import.”

Their dear youngest is lying upon his chartered bed, soused in poppy and utterly dead to the world. Yet he lives to see another day, thank the gods, Zeke thinks, watching his little brother sleep and recover his strength. His fever has broken at last, a very promising sign, assures Healer Dmitriy. The youngest Jaeger is well past danger now, and his wounds are healing cleanly.

There had been a scare of festering and the possible loss of a limb yet the Healers worked their craft and they moved beyond that. Fresh poulticed bandages bind Eren’s arm and cover the left side of his brow, the fall of dark hair over his face stark against the white linen. He looks younger, as innocent as he is like to get at this age, more the boy of six of Zeke’s youth and less the young man of sixteen he has quickly grown to be.

In the end, only the scars should remain. And his knighthood. Scars and near-death for that honor, that is how you come into it. Eren will be well-compensated for his leal service.

He is luckier than some, to be sure. Good men were lost that day. “Any word yet on the new Guardsmen?” Zeke persists when his father keeps his peace. Most times silence comes easy between them; sometimes, Zeke even preferrs it so, yet silence of late is an uncomfortable thing. He has somehow tied it to Eren’s state. If they keep quiet, then surely Eren will weaken and pass away into the Fields. His brother must hear their voices, if only so he can have an anchor to the living. Zeke does not know why he insists when Eren is finally out of the weeds. But it is true what they say about habits.

The quiet snaps and pops of the fire are the only things to be heard as Grisha stares at him a moment through his lenses. The light of the flickering hearthflames reflects off the fine Rhoseine glass, only to give way to the green pools beneath. Eren has inherited those eyes, the Jaeger eyes. Zeke is a Fritz through and through, blue and gold and fair. And yet they insist he is his father in gold.

“Some candidates have been chosen,” Lord Grisha says at length. “The squires of two fallen, Bertolt Hoover and Conrad Springer. They are set to replace their former masters. No word yet for the other two replacements but some names have been put forward.”

“Our younger Eren would have jumped at the chance.” Zeke gazes down fondly at his sleeping brother once more. “I’ve always wondered what made him change his mind.”

His father chuckles, a rare sound these days. “I was surprised he reconsidered at all, not that it was such a terrible thing. There are other ways to win honor for himself and his House. Left him open to the marriage market, at least.”

Speak of the marriage market… His little lady will want to know she can visit him at last. Zeke had caught the poor thing hovering around thereabouts near every day since they brought Eren in. It will enliven the lad to see his betrothed. They seem to be sweeter on each other at present, Zeke is pleased to see.

“As to Skaryn and Halkin…” Lord Grisha sighs and rubs his eyes beneath his spectacles. “I’ll continue to lobby for their families. If execution is in the fates of Valko Skaryn and Yuri Halkin, then so be it, but to extend that punishment to their whole lines?” He rubs at his temples, his horror at the thought well and truly palpable. “To their wives and children and brothers and cousins… it is too much. Too much. I cannot let that stand.”

His Majesty had been sore wroth when he had recovered from the terror of his ordeal. The lords Skaryn and Halkin were arrested, accused of treason and attempted regicide. Both have been attainted, stripped of all lands, titles, and incomes, and sentenced to death by beheading. But that is not to be enough for the king. In his wrath, Rod Reiss has declared, in no uncertain terms, his desire to see both men’s lines ended. Every man, woman, and child who bear the name of Skaryn and Halkin shall be expunged. Even those merely married to the name found no mercy. Rod Reiss wants them gone, gone.

Zheletov, too, felt the flames of royal fury. Hundreds of Zhelevic were arrested, those outlaws who did not manage to flee further North. All have been sentenced to hang. Rumor has it that the king means to hang their families as well, to teach the North a sharp lesson in slaughter. Robert of Feyhill, the head of the northern faction and the mind behind all, is to be hanged, drawn, and quartered - a fate reserved for the vilest of traitors. A charge he still vehemently denies even at the rack.

What should have been a moment of festive reconciliation became naught but dross. The court is silent, reeling in the enormity of it all.

“Eren saved his life, he should grant me a boon, at least,” Lord Grisha murmurs, more to himself than to his eldest, who stares at him then at his brother, who lays oblivious to his burgeoning role as leverage and potential savior of the lines of Skaryn and Halkin.

Zeke supposes it is only fitting for his knightly brother. What are knights for but for the saving of innocent lives?

“His fever broke last night, my lady, you can see him at last.”

You have never heard anything sweeter.

“Oh, thank the gods.” You smooth down your crimson dress, making sure all is in order. He has not laid eyes on you for four days, you had best be presentable. And pretty, you must be pretty, a girlish voice whispers, which you hastily tamp down. As if he’ll care overmuch about such matters, not after his ordeal. A silver shield burnished to a mirror sheen is hanging from the wall opposite you. Surreptitiously, you brush back a stray lock that has escaped from your braids. All in order, you think, pleased, as you stare at your somewhat distorted reflection. Some effort will not be amiss, surely.

Healer Dmitriy knocks upon the wooden door to announce himself before opening it and entering. Aly the Cat slips inside at once; distantly, you hear your betrothed utter a pleased exclamation of the creature’s name. You feel your heart thrum faster. Your fingers twine themselves around each other against your fluttering tummy. He sounds well. That is good. 

“My lord, the Lady Rhyzkova is without and wishes to see you,” you hear the young priest say, his voice partly muffled by the half-closed door. The note of excitement in Eren’s voice as he bids the Healer to let you in makes you smile.

It is comfortably warm inside the chamber. A fire crackles merrily in the stone hearth before the canopied bed, inadvisable for a southron summer but perfectly acceptable for a northern one. Two bone-white velvet armchairs are arrayed before the fireplace. A table laden with what looks like the tools of the Healers’ trade - physic, rolls of bandages, and herbs of the medicinal sort - is sitting between the loungers. The brown linen curtains of the tall wrought iron windows are pulled back, illuminating the room with pale, watery sunshine and giving the place an airy countenance.

A green smell, the smell of herbs and plant life, pervades all. You find yourself breathing in deeply as you enter, your first few footsteps tapping lightly on the polished marble floor, yet all vanish as you lay eyes upon your wounded knight. The white hangings on his bed are tied back, revealing his form. He is sitting up, at least, with a wide grin on his bandaged face, his left eye swollen half-shut beneath the poultice. You would not have known he was ailing and lifeless for the better part of four days by his demeanor. Ginger Aly is curled up on his blanketed lap, eyes closed contently as Eren runs languid fingers over his short fur.

Your knight is awake, and smiling at you, and so wonderfully alive.

“How are you feeling?” you murmur as you sit on his bed by his legs. A flash of dark blue cloth sweeps by from the corner of your vision, but you do not pay it heed. Eren and his well-being come first.

He opens his mouth to answer but frowns almost at once. You mirror his expression and are about to ask what is wrong when he speaks. “Everything’s fine, Healer Dima, you may leave us.”

The straw-haired Healer in question freezes in the act of settling himself down upon one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. Nerves and uncertainty play across his thin features for half a heartbeat before he reaches some sort of resolution and sits down determinedly. “Oh, no, please do not mind me. Someone must needs stay to keep an eye on… your health. Just because your fever has broken doesn’t mean you’re not susceptible to a relapse.”

“Oh, in that case, your presence is a much welcome one indeed, Healer,” you say rapidly, as Eren makes to say something, something undoubtedly rude to judge by the look on his face. He curls his lip at your interruption but subsides once you shake your head at him a little. Let him be.

Healer Dmitriy smiles, relieved. “Very good, my lady. See, you’ll hardly notice I’m here.” He reaches into one voluminous dark blue sleeve and pulls out a small book - a missal of The Light of the Creed, the new faith’s holiest text, you see, catching a glimpse of the twelve-rayed sun of the Creed on the book’s black leather cover. The priest opens the primer and promptly vanishes within its pages.

Of course a godly, dutiful man like him will insist on playing governess, you realize belatedly. It had not occurred to you until you saw him glance from you to Eren with an expression of abject worry. He can hardly leave a young maid alone with a half-naked young man in his chambers.

For the young man is very much half-naked. You feel your mouth go dry as the realization hits you hard. You cannot understand how that detail eluded you. “I see you’ve made a new friend,” you gesture at little Aly on Eren’s lap, a ditch effort to distract yourself, and fail miserably. That only brings further attention to his hard, incredibly ridged stomach. Oh, gods above.

Eren stares down fondly at the cat, oblivious to your ogling. “We only properly met this morning but we’re fast friends now,” he laughs as the ginger tom rises and stretches, then proceeds to rub up against his Healer’s charge, purring loudly. Never have you wanted to trade places with a cat so badly in your entire life.

Suddenly, looking your betrothed in the eye becomes an endeavor of utmost difficulty, not when you want to look elsewhere. You have seen your fair share of half-naked men. Comely men and homely ones, paragons as sculpted as statues and pigs shuffling along like sacks of suet, you have seen them all. You never lack for those in summery Vascalin, where the sight of them is so common as to be unremarkable. But a half-naked Eren is a veritable god to their mere mortal flesh.

You peer up at him from beneath your lashes as Aly occupies his attention for the nonce. He is beautifully well-made. You have always suspected it to be so; some of his tunics show off his shape well, and he oft wears his daily linens with the laces undone, allowing one to get a glimpse of an expansive, defined chest. To see all of that bared before you to prove the truth of your fancies is astounding.

His shoulders, broad and striking, lead down to strong, sinewy arms. The bandage wrapped around the right limb flaunts the roundness of the muscle and stands stark against his tanned skin. A tiny cluster of leech marks speckles the skin beneath his dressings yet they do nothing to diminish the smooth perfection of his limb. His chest is as wide and well-muscled; verily, his torso is a vision, each muscle as sharply etched as though he is cut from stone.

Some other girl is giggling madly deep down inside. You feel like a bitch in heat. The thought near makes the mad laughter bubble up your throat but you quell it quickly. And then you make the singular error of allowing your eyes to follow the sloping trail of chiseled muscle beneath the blankets and almost choke on air. The expected sight of the waist of his pants is nowhere in evidence.

Gods be good, is he naked under there?! 

You squirm and press your legs together on your seat. You cannot have asked for better fodder for your fantasies. Suddenly, you can hear him, hear the deep, sultry cadence of his voice asking you if you will let him sate his lusts with you, feel the hard, chiseled torso press close against you as he leaned down to kiss you… Poxy Duty had robbed you of that kiss. More’s the pity. You wonder what it will feel like, to be trapped beneath that god-like body as freed of clothing as he is now, feel his heat and his skin bound you as you lay below him helpless but to take his lust and his amorous attentions…

Gods help you, lass, the lad is injured and just escaped death by the skin of his teeth. It does not do to entertain such unbecoming ideas. You’re worse than a dockside slut, you admonish yourself as heat courses through your whole body at the turn of your thoughts. There are better things to occupy yourself with than his magnificent body. His health is what matters most.

“Hey.”

You start at the sound of his voice and do not immediately meet his gaze. You hope to all the gods, both old and new, that your face is not a mirror of your desire. That is a discussion that can keep; your priestly governess will be shocked to his soul should he have the slightest inkling of what had flounced through your head these past few moments.

“Hey,” Eren says again, reaching out to lay a hand on your forearm. The touch comes lightly, so very lightly, yet the way it burns is anything but. You meet his eyes at last. “Are you all right? You look strange.” His concerned frown gives way to a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, see, healthy as a horse.” He wrinkles his nose at the idiom, making you giggle. “I’m well past danger now. The wound’s not going to fester, there’s no poison in my blood, I’m fine and whole. You don’t need to worry so much.”

“Thank the gods,” you breathe, instantly snatching at that sentiment. It is not as if you aren’t worried about him, but best have him construe your conflicted expression as concern instead of lust. This is not the time for lust. “Speak of the gods,” you smile down at Aly, who has padded over to you, seeking affection, “you are blessed indeed. Lady Alyrya has been with you this whole time.” Cats are sacred to the Gardener, but none more so than the ginger tabby.

“It’s a nice thought, that-”

“Oh!”

There is a great tug, and your hand flies to your chest as the laces of your bodice come undone. It will seem that Aly is feeling a little too neglected. Or desirous of yarn. You hold the tom fast as you unhook his claws from the crimson cords, your face smarting a little in mortification.

“Oh, dear.” Healer Dmitriy flaps over to the bed, the tips of his prominent ears pink. “A thousand pardons, my lady, it seems he’s in his excitable mood again. I’ll see him out.” He scoops his ginger attendant into his arms and bustles away, threatening the cat with a salmon-less dinner as he does so.

You sigh and tighten your laces once more. Aly had not pulled down far enough for your breasts to spill out from your bodice, thankfully, but that was a near thing. You are more comfortable baring skin than most women north of the Greatshield are, being from the sweltering South, yet you draw the line at exposure in front of two men. Well, perhaps one of them can get a pass. You bite the inside of your lip as you fumble briefly and have to redo the knot all over again.

“You know what they say about certain animals being able to channel people’s wills?” Eren lifts his gaze from your chest to your face. His eyes have darkened a little. Your fingers tighten on your cords. “Nobody can say for sure if that still holds true but it’s an interesting thought.” His legs shift beneath the blankets.

The return of the Healer saves you from having to form a reply. He gives you an apologetic smile and another apology before returning to his seat and his book once more.

“Your hair’s grown longer,” you remark arbitrarily, not quite knowing what to say to your betrothed’s earlier statement. Besides… Your face tingles a little. With the way he looked at you then, you cannot guarantee that your conversation won’t lead to… bawdier pastures. You had never truly touched upon the subject before but something about his demeanor then gives you pause. Best to nip that in the bud. Your governess will not stand for anything remotely suggestive. He will throw you out and forbid you from seeing Eren again for the rest of his confinement, and you cannot have that.

Eren tugs at the ends of his hair, looking at it thoughtfully. “Do you think I should cut it? I haven’t been up to calling on the barber lately…”

“It’s your hair, you’re free to do as you like.” You give him a small smile. “I like it, though. It makes you look-” comelier, “-older, more mature.”

He settles back into his pillows, appearing gratified. “Well, then, I suppose I’ll keep it as it is for the time being.” He gazes at you for a good long while, before his concern reduces his smile into something softer. “You look tired.”

The chuckle that escapes you echoes the sentiment, as though his bringing attention to the fact has drawn four days’ worth of weariness out. You rub a finger at the skin beneath your eye. “Between you and Father and this whole affair, I have been getting no lick of sleep.” You cannot count the hours you had spent in Merrydell’s sanctum, praying and praying and praying for him and your lord father, beseeching the old gods to bless and keep them. You had even visited the nearest temple of the Gardener to offer incense, a candle, and yet more prayers for your betrothed. He belongs to the Creed, perhaps his Lady will be better inclined to protect him should the old gods dismiss your pleas.

Lady Alyrya heard them, at any rate, her and the old gods. Father’s fever was only the chills brought on by the rains and not from a corrupted wound; he had taken a glancing blow from an outlaw’s knife but managed to come out of that debacle otherwise unscathed. He was right as rain after a day or so.

Eren had given you more grief. What time you had outside of prayer was spent hovering anxiously outside these very chambers, hoping you could visit him or at least learn of his condition. Still, you will visit the sanctum and the temple tonight, to give thanks to the gods for granting him further life.

“Ask Healer Dima to give you essence of valerian, it helps a lot,” Eren urges, fretful. He can be a rather fretful character, you have come to find. It only makes him sweeter in your eyes.

“I will at that. Although I’ll be sleeping more soundly tonight regardless.” Because you’re awake and all right and alive. A bowl of apples is sitting upon his bedside dresser. His mother’s key lays beside it, nestled amidst the coils of its leather cord. “Are you hungry?” you ask, gesturing at the fruit.

“Will you feed me if I am? I can barely lift my arm for the pain.” Eren blinks at you all innocent-like. The teasing tilt to his lips ruins the effect, however. From the distance comes the tiniest of coughs.

Your own mouth twitches up in amusement. “If you wish it.”

“I do wish it,” he says firmly, sitting up straight again. “I’m hungry, so hungry, famished, starving-”

“All right, your hunger has been well and truly noted.” You reach for an apple and the paring knife and proceed to cut the fruit. Needlessly, you know. He is not so injured that he cannot feed himself (despite his claims to the contrary). In this, you indulge him. The patient must have his way until he recovers.

A cough resounds from the distance once more, louder this time, as you reach forward to put a slice of apple in your betrothed’s waiting mouth. You both freeze and glance over at the Healer, who is staring at you beadily from above his holy missal. A prick of annoyance simmers within you, but you flash him a placating smile as you move to put more distance between you and Eren. You slip the piece of fruit into your betrothed’s mouth, careful not to let your fingers brush against his lips, those luscious, alluring, enticing lips…

You bite back a giggle as he chews the morsel, looking distinctly bad-tempered. Your fingertips still tingle from the warmth of his breath. “I see you still haven’t put on your mother’s key,” you observe, eyeing the forenamed pendant on the bedside table. His betrothal necklace looks rather lonely without its staunch companion around his neck.

His bad-tempered expression deepens. “He’s a priest, he’s as superstitious as they come. His precious sensibilities won’t stand for blasphemy.” Scorn drips from his voice as he says the word, further amusing you. “You’ll make a better Healer,” he adds, his expression softening as he gleams at you. “You don’t nag as much.”

That is an interesting thought, that. The past few days certainly lent further fodder to your long-held fancies of being a Healer. It is a flimsy whim, a glib thought born from a night of girlish diversion when asked that absurdly preposterous question: what would you be had you not been born into nobility? Your fledgling pastime in the gardens led you to answer as you had.

But perhaps that fledgling can grow into something more. Seeing people you care for hurt and ailing woke something in you, the desire to ease their pain if only but a little. You hope Healer Darya is willing to take on a new apprentice this autumn.

“Does it hurt so much?”

Eren chews on his apple, looking artless and very much innocent in truth. He does not stay so for long, though (not that you expect him to, the cheeky sod). “I already told you, didn’t I? I wouldn’t ask you to feed me if it didn’t hurt like blazes.” Something in your expression sobers him, and the smile he flashes you is gentle, tender. “I’m a little sore, but nothing you need concern yourself about too much.” He reaches out to take your free hand in his, lightly caressing your skin with his thumb. “And you have been, haven’t you? So concerned that you lost sleep over me, of all people.” He seems to move farther away, going somewhere beyond this room and beyond you.

You pull away from his hold to cup his face in your hand, as though in doing so you can keep him bound to yourself. You touch him as softly as you can yet still he flinches as your palm presses against the injured side of his face. That spasm of pain makes you pull back but he reaches up quickly to keep your hand on him, smiling up at you reassuringly as he does so. The green sparkling at you beneath his poulticed eyebrow is as vibrant as its twin, swollen and puffy though the skin around it is. He is still so beautiful, your battered knight. So beautiful, and warm, and alive.

The loud clearing of a holy throat reminds you of decency and decorum, and you make to pull away from your betrothed once more. He is not having it, though. His grip on your hand tightens, and his face darkens like thunder. “Bloody prissy priests… As if a simple touch to the face equates to… what exactly? A hot little romp?” His laugh comes out exuding derision and mockery. “I didn’t throw you down on the bed and have my way with you, did I? With the way he’s looking at us, you’d think he caught us fucking,” he grouses, in a voice pitched low so only you would hear him.

A lump rises inside your throat that almost chokes you. You cough to rid yourself of it. How he can say such things so baldly confounds you. “That’s… probably what he's thinking. I suppose he’s here to try and preserve my honor. For all he knows, you could be some sort of perverted lech,” you say, in what you hope is an offhand way.

That puts a thoughtful look on Eren’s face. Suddenly, the darkness in his eyes holds a very different sort of sentiment. He glances at you from beneath his lashes before looking down at his lap. Your fingers twitch a little against his face as he continues to keep your hand captive. Heat once again simmers beneath your skin to match the heat you had caught in his gaze before he averted his eyes. In a quiet voice, he murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like, “He’s not far off, then.”

Your heart almost stops at that. “Pardon?”

He lifts his eyes back to yours and blinks slowly. “Have I not been preserving your honor for the better part of a year already? He has nothing to worry about.” One corner of his mouth kinks up roguishly. “Unless my lady does not care for such things. I’d gladly play the perverted lech if you’d let me.”

Gods save me.

Eren’s smile widens as though he has heard you and he releases your hand, allowing you to pick up the paring knife from where it is sitting on your lap. You take a brief recess to settle yourself and cut another wedge off the rapidly browning apple in your grip. Your hand does not shake, to your credit.

“Good apple, that,” Eren notes conversationally, as though he had not been speaking of perversion and fornication mere moments ago.

“The Skaryns brought in a good harvest.” The discomposure leaves you at once as the name of that doomed family leaves your lips. You stare down at the halved fruit in your hand. A good harvest. And their last. Everything seems to dim then, as though a pall has settled upon the world. The Skaryn pall. It is a cruel edict. Your knight had saved the author of that cruel edict. And that is why you can now call him that. Your knight. “You will be a Sir in truth now.”

“I will be, huh…” Eren looks pleased, excited at the thought. As well he might. It is all he ever wanted and lived for, the culmination of years of training and service.

“What’s his name, your squire?” you query as you feed him another slice. The next slice you eat yourself. It is as good as he claims, browned though it is now; the juice is sweet, refreshing on your tongue.

His eyes widen as he munches his own mouthful, as though he has forgotten that knights need squires to squire for them. “Falco Grice.” He swallows. “I have a squire.” The wonder in his face and voice makes you smile. “How do I go about being a master, though?” He screws up his face in thought, then puffs out his chest. “Falco, muck out the stables. I want to be able to eat off the ground once you’re done,” he says in his best approximation of Sir Levi’s flat tone.

There is a pause as the both of you stare at each other silently before descending into fits of giggles. For a while, you cannot stop. He is strong and thriving, and he is to be a knight at long last. Everything seems good in the world again, and the fate of doomed families fades into the ether. But as the light of day gives way to the gloom of night, his cheer slowly gives way to something more staid, dour, even mournful. Eren looks down at his hands, pensive. “Do I even deserve that honor, though? After…”

Sir Erwin’s lost arm hangs heavy between you. Half a year gone and still it haunts him. His gloom seeps into you like some illness, only to feed your determination to see him rise above his guilt and shame. 

“You do,” you state firmly. You will not brook arguments on this matter. “You saved His Majesty, the king’s life, that’s not a small thing. And you learned, didn’t you? You didn’t get those injuries by running pell-mell into danger, did you?” As he shakes his head no, you go on, “Then let it go. Onward and upward and no looking back. It does you no good to dwell on such things. It’ll only eat you up inside.”

“Did I even learn, though? Because I thought about it. Running pell-mell into danger.” He picks at the skin on his forefinger, hunched over and reeking of shame.

Your heart goes out to him, your earnest betrothed. He is a young man, near grown, and yet in many ways he is a boy still. “The only thing that matters is that you didn’t act on it.” You brandish a slice of apple at him. “Sweet to banish the bitter.”

A weight seems to lift off his shoulders as he accepts your proffered piece into his mouth. “You always know what to say.” He gazes at you, soft, contemplative, considering. “And you have to know what to say. In that there is no choice, not for you, my Lady of Rhyzkov.”

You cut yourself a wedge and help yourself to your own sweet. There is nothing to add to the truth that you have always known.

“I grew up wanting to be a Royal Guardsman.”

As most boys do, noble or common.

“But then I served one of them.” Wryness taints Eren’s tone as he continues, “I saw him- them dog every step of this one man every day of their lives and realized that… wasn’t for me. Knights are for serving, yes, but I want the freedom to choose my own liege. If I am to spend a lifetime in thrall to one, I want it to be by my own will and not because tradition says I must.”

And to be a Royal Guardsman is to serve the blood royal for life. “But you didn’t choose me.” As either liege or bride.

Eren looks at you then and subjects you to a long and intense stare. “No, I didn’t.” This intensity is different, something you cannot quite place. 

He is such a forceful personality, you reflect as you hold his deep green gaze. Deep enough to drown in. And you are and will continue to do so, you know now, for the rest of your life. But there is joy in trying to keep up with him, something exhilarating about navigating his tides. He is quite unlike anyone you have ever met, and it intrigues you.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t serve you gladly, willingly, and with everything I have.”

Embers of green fire begin to flare up at you and you avert your eyes lest you be burned. His tides you can navigate. You cannot say the same for his flames. “I look forward to your investiture.” You cut the last bit of apple in half.

The reminder of his investiture banks his flames near instantly. “It seems… inappropriate to have it after the executions.”

So his father has told him all. A certain chill appears to cloak you in its folds. It is almost enough for you to wish for his fires back. “The court needs something to celebrate after such unpleasantness.”

“Unpleasantness…” Eren frowns down at the white linen sheets draped over his lap. “The northmen deserve their sentence for that treachery, but to eradicate whole bloodlines strikes me as being too much. Little Yakob Halkin could hardly conspire against the king. Six-year-olds care more for toys than treason.”

You have never thought to see the end of a line, much less two, in your lifetime. But that is the way of the lords. You yourself are descended from the Shrike, Queen Yelena Rhyzkova, the fourth to bear that name and title, who had rid the world of the Moldovans thousands and thousands of years ago. If your royal forebear had any compunctions about killing the children of her enemies in her bid for power, no one will know now. She had taken her sensibilities with her to the grave.

“The commons will go the way of their masters, if the talk is true.” You hand Eren his last morsel and bite into your own.

Eren eats his apple and reclines back on his pillows. “It’s only talk. He will get his blood price and be paid twice over with highborn blood. He’ll leave the innocent commons alone. They’re not worth that much, at the end of the day.”

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A/N:

Horny YN is horny. But, really, who can blame her? Have you seen the guy?

Knight!Eren is here at last, hurrah for him. But the Northern Matter has turned into... another matter entirely.

This’ll be the last update for this year, so it’s my Christmas posting for you, my readers, who I am very thankful to have! I’m glad to be able to share my brainchild to the world and I thank you so much for reading! Always, always <3

This may be my last TSL update but not my last post for the year... at least it depends on how fast I can get around to it. But I’m planning on dabbling in the modern AU and posting a smutty one-shot that will just not leave my brain and so I have no choice but to write it. Hopefully I can get it done before the year ends, if not... I can hail the New Year with good sexy smutty goodness.

Tagging: @princess-okkotsu​​ @lukepattersin​ @aki-and-saltfish​​

[usopp-writes]

It's March 24th and do you know what this means? It's the birthday of the fourth division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. Yes, that guy people often forgets, because he's just a man that needed to get the plot moving. But I - and more - haven't forgotten that man with the great pompadour. So here's a little story for his birthday.

@the-thatch-zine

Enjoy <3

Thatch x GN reader SFW Word count: 563

You were on your way back to your room, tired after a long day of hard work. Entering your room, you pouted, as Thatch wasn’t there. He should have been there by now; you’d looked forward to see him. Throwing off your shoes and placing them on the shoe rack, you flopped onto the bed with a deep sigh. You were too tired to go look for him.

You dozed off, but were brought back when you heard Thatch entering the room, the door closing behind him. Smiling you opened your eyes and sat up, watching him take off his belt and shirt. His eyes fell on you and with a wink, he put on a little show for you to enjoy, as he stripped down. You chuckled and enjoyed it, knowing he was going to take a shower.

“Coming, hon?” He asked, as he went to the bathroom and you forced yourself out of bed to join him. You washed each other and did your nightly routine, before going to bed, cuddled against each other. He seemed tired too and while it was early, neither of you minded the extra sleep nor rest that your bodies and minds were craving.

The next morning came and you smoothly prevented Thatch from getting up early and make breakfast for everyone, convincing him that the cooks could manage without him for the morning. You were honest, when saying you missed spending the mornings together, cuddling and kissing and just be together, so he caved. He’d missed it too. It was really a wonderful morning and you wish it didn’t have to end.

“Honey, we should get up or else we’ll miss out on breakfast.” Thatch spoke softly into your ear, though made no movement of indicating that he was ready to stop cuddling, making you smile. You knew he was way too content to go anywhere right now and that he knew that he as the head chef could just waltz into the kitchen and make you something to eat, whenever you wanted.

“I doubt anyone will mind.” You smiled and turned to face him, placing a kiss on his lips. “Also, happy birthday, love.”

He blinked and tilted his head lightly, before grinning. “Oh hon, thank you. You almost made me forget what day it is. Every day with you is a blessing and like I’m getting reborn.”

You blushed heavily at his words, as he leaned forward to capture your lips for a deep and passionate kiss. Soon you melted into the kiss, kissing him back with the same passion. You both were lost for the world, as your bodies got tangled, the need to feel each other driving your bodies so close that there were barely any air between them.

“We really should get going before anyone will come barging in.” Thatch chuckled and you knew he was right. Ace and Haruta would probably do so, if the family would grow impatient, while waiting for the birthday man to arrive.

“Let’s just hope we can sneak off early tonight and continue this.” You winked at him, as you untangled your limbs from him, earning a chuckle.

“I’ll make sure of it.” Thatch grinned, as he got up, placing a kiss on your head. “After all, you’re the best birthday gift and I would very much like to enjoy you all by myself.”

[cyborg-franky]

Happy Birthday!

Just a little something for @mamamittens <3 I hope you enjoy! Thank you for being an awesome friend <3

Thatch x GN Reader SFW WC: 700

Birthdays were a strange thing on the Moby Dick, when you had so many people it was hard to celebrate birthdays one at a time. Everyone would get one massive party at the end of the month. Thatch knew that of course he did, he was the one that had to keep notes on what his crew could and couldn't eat. They were pirates, sure, but not animals.

He knew that rule and yet here he was, making you a small personal cake once the dinner rush was finished and the clean up had been taken care of. Taking his own personal time to make sure you had something to celebrate your birthday.

Thatch knew he wouldn't get into any real trouble, just people teasing him about how he was going to the extra effort to make sure you had something on your day. Because he had the world's biggest crush on you.

–

Once the cake decorating was finished, he put it in a box and slunk away, dodging anyone who passed him as he walked to your room. Which was a much more difficult undertaking than he had anticipated, he was hoping anyone that was around had already had their senses washed away by booze or people had simply passed out around the deck. 

He ducked behind crates and barrels, evading the tricky small talk from those who had managed to see his hair poking out from behind a hiding spot. Despite all the obstacles he was outside your door, cake safe in the box wrapped with a bow as his heart raced.

Thatch knocked on the door and waited, hearing footsteps on the other side before the door opened a slither, you peered out with a quizzical look when you saw Thatch standing there, a big grin on his handsome face.

“Hey, I got you something!” He proclaimed and held the box up, puffing out his chest in pride, trying to hide his nerves behind a wall of confidence as you eyed him up, gaze drifting to the box in his hands.

“What’s this for?” You asked as you stepped back, gesturing for him to enter the room. He set the box down on your desk and told you not to look yet. That had elevated your curiosity a few notches as you did as he’d asked, turning your back to him,

Thatch looked over his shoulder, making sure you weren’t sneaking a look. He took the cake out of the box and stuck the candles into the cake, patting himself down to locate his lighter. You folded your arms over your chest, hearing his movements, your ears pricked trying to piece the sounds together to make a picture, impatient already.

“Okay, you can turn around now.”

When you turned you saw the cake on your desk, the candles lighting up the dim room and you blinked. “Happy birthday!” He cheered as you walked closer to the cake.

“But the rules?” You asked and he shrugged his shoulders. “I know, I know, I just… I wanted you to have something on your day instead of waiting for the end of the month,” Thatch admitted, he was glad you couldn’t see the tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“Anyway, blow the candles out and make a wish.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth in your heart. He was so kind and caring, no wonder you had fallen for him. You nodded and leaned down, blowing out the candles and making your wish. You wished and wished you'd have the courage to confess to him.

“What did you wish for? He asked, clapping when you’d extinguished the flames in one attempt. “I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” You smirked, seeing him roll his eyes, chuckling.

“Well, I hope it comes true.” 

You felt his arms around you and you melted against him. “Happy birthday,” he said once more, still holding you close. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the moment. “Thank you, Thatch.”

As you pulled away, your eyes met and you decided, maybe tonight was the night you made a wish come true…

[cyborg-franky]

Happy Birthday Thatch!

It's a little late... but Thatch!

Thatch x GN Reader SFW Modern AU

You wanted to surprise Thach, he worked so hard all the time. He spent hours and hours extra at his restaurant because it was his passion and he always covered absences unpaid. 

He worked harder than anyone you knew.

And it was his birthday and you wanted to do something nice for him.

He didn’t ask for much, wanted some new fancy knives for the kitchen. You got him a new spice rack which he’d loved. It was shaped like a whale and had room for all the jars on the back of it.

His smile made you feel so happy, just seeing how much he enjoyed his gifts.

You wanted to cook him a meal. Something he hadn’t had to make himself.

All day you spent in your kitchen, a thousand recipes at your fingertips, and you'd been planning the meal for weeks.

All the things you'd need, all the tutorials for the trickier things. 

You got this.

You didn’t got this.

The kitchen was a mess, you’d used almost everything to make the failed dishes.

You sighed and felt yourself close to crying.

You didn’t want Thatch to come home and see this mess.

You also didn’t want him to have to cook tonight either.

And you knew he wasn’t a big fan of going to other places to eat late at night, knowing what it was like trying to close up for the night and people showing up an hour or two before the last sitting.

As you sat on the sofa and contemplated the disaster you’d made of the day, the door opened and you blinked.

Thatch was home early..

“Hey, honey!” Thatch called and you then smelt food, it filled your nose and you realized how hungry you were.

“I was going to cook for you..” You mumbled and looked at the bags in his hand, mouth-watering a little.

“I love and appreciate you pumpkin’ but I knew that and I also knew what I saw in the kitchen was going to happen so I got us takeout.” Thatch started to set everything down on the dining room table as you watched.

“How did you know I was going to mess up?” You narrowed your eyes giving him a scrutinizing look, did he just assume you were going to mess up? 

“Well, when Marco AND Ace sent me a message telling me you were struggling I put two and two together. Anyone who asks Marco for help in the kitchen is in deep trouble.” Thatch said with a grin, leaning over and kissing your forehead.

“I got our regular from our fave place, I just wanna spend time with the person I love most in the world, in front of the TV with greasy food and a beer,” He said and wrapped an arm around you. “I appreciate the effort though, mean’s a lot.” 

You smiled and felt lighter, happy he was such a perfect, understanding partner.

[cyborg-franky]

yaaaay!! \(:D)/

can i please request the chefs -Killer, Sanji, and Thatch- with a partner who likes to cook/bake for them? but it’s like… 85% cooked? slightly underdone? not hard, just slightly chewy?

those boys seem too kind to tell their partner they suck at cooking, so it takes someone out side of the relationship to tell them they suck at it. cue angry partner shouting full names across the boat at ask “have you really been eating undercooked pasta for me for months?”

the other day, my friend asked why i cook pasta “like that”. apparently it’s not all the way cooked and i just never knew that. i liked it :<

thank you in advance <3 #^^#

- tnt !!!

OMG I loved this so much, good request anon, you get a gold star and can always come again.

This kinda got REALLY long so Sanji kinda got left out, I am sorry <3

Thatch

You cooked for him often, you liked to give him a night off, show him you wanted to spoil him as much as he did everyone else.

He would smile brightly at you as he ate the food, you always missed the little grimace on his face as ate the undercooked food.

One day in the kitchen you were cooking for you and Thatch when Ace and Marco barged in. Ace was grabbing at things as Marco happily chatted to you like you hadn’t seen him an hour ago.

“ACE! Git!” you said, slapping the commander with a rolled-up dishrag as he stuffed a handful of pasta into his mouth, pulling a face and pushing Marco out the way so he could spit it out into a trash can.

“What the hell did you do to that? Respectfully.” Ace mumbled and grabbed a glass to get himself water.

“What was wrong with it?” you ask sadly.

“You always undercook food, I was going to warn Ace but he was faster than me yoi.” Marco said with a nod.

“Always?” Marco nodded again.

Thatch had been playing poker when he heard THATCHAL THATCHAMUS THATCHWARD NEWGATE you had no idea what his full name was but it still sent fear through him.

“You’ve been eating my undercooked food for months! Why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighed and rubbed his chin, playing with the beard before sighing in defeat.

“Your always happiest when you cook Pumpkin’ an’ I don’t wanna be the person that ruins that for you.” He said as he wrapped arms around you.

Killer

Oh lord, thank the fucking gods for his mask. He could just hide the food in the mask until later.

Just slurps up that undercooked under-seasoned spaghetti like a champ, and tries not to drown in the sauce as his mask fills up.

You smile at him, asking him how it is and he gives you the thumbs up while he dies inside the pasta prison of his own making.

It wasn’t until Killer was running late, busy helping with something that you decided to take the stress off of the dinner rush and started to make dinner.

Kid was the one that burst your bubble, the belief you were a good cook.

Opening his mouth and shoveling in a mouthful he pulled a face and opened his mouth letting the food fall out, everyone else doing something similar and you furrowed your brows.

“What the fucking shit is this?” Kid snapped and poked at the noodles with a fork as if the pasta was going to form into a rope and strangle him at any moment.

“What do you mean? Killer loves when I cook this for him..” you said feeling a little hurt.

“Bastards a lair, this is, I wouldn’t strangle my enemies with this, but it’s so tough I COULD.”

You realize all this time that Killer was being nice, saving your feelings.

He’s happily leaning against the railings when he hears the scream of ‘KILLER WHATEVER YOUR FULL NAME IS, I SWEAR’ and his soul leaves his body.

“Why have you been eating my bad food? Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked gripping his shirt and shaking him a little.

“I didn’t want to upset you or discourage you…” he said from behind his mask, brushing back your hair.

The gentle touch made you forget just how much you wanted to kick his ass.

[cyborg-franky]

Hey Franky I was hoping to request a Thatch x reader where the reader is this shy timid person and Thatch and reader go on a date where the reader has to order food and is to scared to so Thatch helps them out

I have dated people like this and I have been the Thatch in many situations so I was excited to work on this one.

Being a chef at his own restaurant he knows the best places in town to take you.

Dressed up all fancy you head to the place, he booked weeks ago to make sure you guys had a table.

You are in awe at how nice it is here, dim lights but not too dark, every table is spaced out, there are plants everywhere, and a water feature in the center which you peer into and see fish swimming around eating their dinner.

You smile as he takes your hand, the waitress leading you to your seats. 

The place is full of chatter, not too loud, after all, Thatch knows you are a shy person and loud places make you uncomfortable.

Handing the menu the waitress asks “Drinks?”

And you freeze up a little.

You start to stammer and stumble to grab the drinks menu and flip through it.

“Hey hun, they have that mocktail you really liked when we went out with Ace and Marco the other week, and they have the regular soda you get when we go places.” Thatch reaches across the table and places his hand on yours, rubbing over your knuckles with a reassuring smile on his face.

You nod and feel a wave of relief wash over you as you order that. “And whatever the house has on tap for me, thanks!” He nods to the waitress.

“Thank you,” You say, feeling a little silly that you struggled with something most people would consider so easy.

“Hey, no problem, want me to go through the menu with you now before she gets back?” You nod and he shuffles closer.

“What are you in the mood for?”

The two of you go through the menu, you tell him what you’d like and he runs through the options, you find him much easier to talk to than most people so this is a breeze. You feel his hand on your thigh, always there to calm you, and reassure you.

He doesn’t order for you he doesn’t want to ever make you feel you can’t do it yourself, he will if you ask him through.

The woman comes back with the drinks, setting them down and picking up her pad. “Ready to order?” She asks and you nod, sitting up straighter and able to give your order, and you feel the hand on your leg give you a squeeze, a little extra courage, and a silent you got this.

“I’ll order dessert for us later, I want it to be a surprise anyway,” Thatch said with a cheeky grin and a wink, you could have melted.

“Sounds good, you know what I like, I trust you.” 

[cyborg-franky]

I've been trying to think what to request, and this morning, due to a small "quarrel" with my partner, I got an idea.

Could I please have Marco and Thatch's (separately) reaction to their partner waking up them in the middle of the night and accusing them of snoring? Thank you!

Ah I am sorry to hear that but I hope things are better for you <3

Marco

The times he does come to bed, Marco is a silent sleeper, most of the time.

If he’s had something to drink or has flopped due to exhaustion finally getting the better of him and he crashes he can be a little snore-y.

You wake up to the sounds of the slumbering phoenix.

His arms around you, face nuzzled against your neck as he snores.

It was right in your ear too, no wonder it sounded so loud.

You sigh and roll him over, or try to, he’s a tangle of long limbs as he tries to remain clinging to you.

“Marco!” you give up trying to get him to stop snoring the subtle way.

Tired eyes blink open and stare at you, thin bros both raised as he mumbles a ‘what yoi?’ like he had no idea what was going on.

“You were snoring…”

“No, I wasn’t, I don’t snore.” he protests and pull you against his chest, head buried against your neck, laying kisses across the skin.

“Hey, stop that, you can’t distract me. You were snoring and loud,” you complain and he paused, tilting his head to one side and considering the fact.

“Are you sure you couldn’t just hear Ace through the wall yoi?”

You sigh long and suffering as you turn to face him now. “Let me be the big spoon, you might snore less on yo-”

He’s already asleep and softly snoring against you.

In the end, you let Marco have his way, he didn't get enough sleep as it was. You just tried to phase it out and got ready to argue more tomorrow.

Thatch

Thatch is a heavy sleeper and the man snores loud.

You wake up, once again, unable to stay asleep since Thatch had flopped onto his back, he snores worse when he’s this way you’d noticed.

A gentle nudge doesn’t wake up, and neither does calling his name.

After the fourth try to wake him you lean over, drip your fingers in the glass of water you’d brought to be, and flick it across his face with a clearing of your throat.

He woke up with a start, drunk off slumber and mumbling as he tries to catch up with everything around him.

He doesn’t look at you first, he looks at the clock sitting on your bedside and notices he’d got hours before he has to get up for the breakfast shift and so, he flops back.

And you give him such a side eye before repeating the process.

“Are ya tryin’ to drown me darlin’ what’s up? Where’s the fire?” he asked, a little annoyance seeping into his sleepy tone as he sets his tired gaze on you.

“Your snoring again and it woke me up, I wanted to roll you over but I couldn’t,” you mumble and he nods, eyes narrowed as he tries to et your words sink in.

“Alright?”

You open and close your mouth, knowing this wasn’t going to go your way.

“Can you roll over for me? I’m so tired and this is the third day in a row.” it was in this line he heard the tired despair and he kissed your cheek, telling you he was sorry and he’d ask Marco about something to lessen the sound.

You smile, feeling warm that he would go to the effort to get it checked.

He rolls over and you become the smallest big spoon anyone had seen.

[cyborg-franky]

Kinktober Day 2 - Marking

GN Reader x Thatch N/SFW Biting/Scratching Word Count: 518

Thatch was a large man but he was one of the most gentle people you’d ever come across. The hands that held yours were so soft, holding your hand as you walked along the moonlit deck back to your bed chambers with him. 

The smile on his face when he leaned down and kissed you softly, his lips on yours, his beard tickling you, how he loved it when you’d giggle into the kiss each time. He never treated you like you'd break but he knew his strength and that was one of the many things you valued about him.

Sometimes though, sometimes you didn’t want him to be gentle with you, and sometimes, he wasn't and you loved him in those moments just as much as the ones where he carried you in his arms and showered you adoration and words of affirmation.

The way his lips claimed your skin in open-mouthed kisses, suckling at each point on your neck, sucking the skin between his teeth and hearing you moan, how you took that sharp delighted intake of breath, eyelashes fluttering as you closed your eyes and tilted your head giving him more skin to claim.

Thatch didn’t stop at your neck though, your collarbone was his next target, the always gentle kisses that made you melt against him, you were dough in the chef's hands as he gripped your hips tightly, leaving bruises of dedication.

Kisses turned into biting as he marked you wherever he saw fit, going based on your sounds of pleasure and gasps of surprise, gauging where you wanted it the most. He traveled down further, conquering you each time he laid another mark upon you.

The expanse of your chest became his next masterpiece, as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on the pert bud and sending sensations hurtling through your body, arching and crying out for him, begging him to go faster.

Thatch knew just how to work you up into a frenzy. You thought you’d die of being slow burned with his lingering touches, no haste in how his lips moved across your skin, his hands digging into your flesh as he sucked on the skin of your inner thigh which had you begging for him,

As he finally moved onto the main course, as he thrust into you firm but gentle it was your turn to leave your mark on him. Nails racking down his back, his hisses of pained pleasure against your ear, chuckling as you caused the lines across his back each time he hit somewhere deep inside of you that had you calling his name and proclaiming him a God.

He fucked you slowly but with such purpose and you knew when others saw the state of his back, the way your neck was a patchwork of lust they’d give you both teasing words but you and Thatch never listened, never really cared what people thought.

You wore the marks with pride and people could say what they wanted. You both knew the love that had been placed into each mark across your bodies.

[cyborg-franky]

Hi Franky! Another event... Another ask from me 🙈🙈🥺 Could I please ask for 8. "You just wait, you're gonna say my name (Suggestive) for Ace, or Marco or Thatch? ❤️ Thank you so much!

This was hard to pick between my three fave boys so I did small drabbles for each and I am not even ashamed -self care- baby.

You’d been laying on the bed with Ace, tracing fingers up and down his chest, teasing him with how low your fingers got, how you brushed across his low riding waistband, earning a ticklish spasm from him. Your eyes trailed up his body, reaching the blush that spread across his freckled cheeks as his mouth opened slightly.

As your hand tugged at his shorts, the look on your face as you tried to act coy like you didn’t know what you were doing to Ace. He let out a growl and rolled you both over so he was pinning you to the bed, he could feel the heat between you both, leaning down and whispering in your ear.

"You just wait, you're gonna say my name."

You were no stranger to Marco’s office, always helping the easy-going commander when you thought he needed it, he didn’t tend to ask for help, tried to shoulder it all himself with a lopsided smile and friendly chuckle.

It was, however, a little boring. That was why you’d decided to mess with the phoenix, just a little bit. Kicking off your shoe, running a foot over the tassel he wore around his calf, playing with the fabric, earning you a glance over his glasses, the lazy smile growing as his eyes focused on you.

Focusing on how your foot crept up his leg, teasing the inside of his thigh, feeling the heat starting to radiate from him. He let out a low chuckle, pushing away from your touches and pushing his chair out.

You could see the effect you’d had on him as he came around to stand behind you, making your head tilt to one side as he nuzzled your neck, taking in your scent, nipping your ear before he breathed out.

"You just wait, you're gonna say my name."

Thatch would like to consider himself someone in control of his emotions, down to earth, and grounded when it came to most things that came his way. He didn’t expect you to be able to fluster him the way you did. How you moved around him in the kitchen, purposely rubbing against him, using the busy and packed kitchen to your advantage.

Always fluttering your eyelashes when you passed him, knowing he’d noticed you wiggle your bottom against him as he tried to get by. He also didn’t fail to notice how clumsy you were when you knew he was watching, always bending down, definitely putting on a show for him.

He gripped your hips, pretending he was just trying to walk past, that someone had nudged him into you by accident. You turned around, bodies touching, the heat noticeable even in the hot surroundings of the kitchen.

You tiptoed up when he gestured you to come closer, that he wanted to whisper in your ear.

"You just wait, you're gonna say my name." he chuckled against the shell of your ear.

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[cyborg-franky]

Hi Franky! If it's not too much trouble could I please have Franky or Thatch with the fall prompts 3 or 7, thank you so much!!

Heeeey. I liked this one, very cute, I had a hard time picking between the two but I picked bread man.

Thatch x GN Reader Prompt: Watching Horror Movies Together SFW Modern AU WC:

“You don’t want to go to the party?” Thatch asked as you curled up on the sofa and shook your head, it wasn’t that you didn’t want to go hang out with all your friends you just wanted to curl up and watch movies, just you and him.

“Just not feelin’ it Darlin’?” He asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

He nodded humming in thought as he leaned down and kissed the side of your face, already working out what he was going to do for you. You leaned into the attention before he ruffled your hair and moved away.

“How about you pick out some movies for us to watch and I’ll be back soon?”

“Alright, anything in particular, or do you have a preference?” You asked, picking up the remote and snuggling into the plush sofa, enjoying the dimply lit room as you started to look at all your options.

“Anything you want love.” He winked and you felt heat rise to your face, no matter how long you’d been together he never failed to make you feel flustered with his charm.

–

He was gone longer than you’d expected, you sat up and peered into the kitchen, hearing him humming to himself as he moved things around, there was a wonderful smell coming from the kitchen, and you took a deep breath of the air, something sweet and spicey.

You’d added a few movies to your list and waited for him to return, you were about to call out to him but he appeared around the corner with a tray and a huge smile on his handsome face as he set down his offerings on the coffee table.

Hot chocolate, marshmallows, cream, popcorn, and you're favorite treat freshly baked, That was what had taken him so long you thought as you stared at him with confusion, about to say something but he sat down next to you, pulling you against his chest.

“What’s all this?” You asked as he reached over and grabbed your drink, handing it to you.

“I just thought I’d treat you, Happy Halloween, Pumpkin’!” He put his arm around you, kissing the top of your head as you got settled, feeling touched by his kindness and his love for you.

–

Eating snacks, drinking hot chocolate, and cuddling up next to your partner you watched movie after movie as the night went on. All the lights were off so no one would come to your door, and phones were set on do not disturb as you enjoyed your Halloween with the person you loved the most.