#v;; here my heavy boots find rest {modern} | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

is0gild · 4 years

Text

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 23

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 11,552

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

"Sorry, did I miss a point back there where my car transformed into a submarine to cross the Atlantic Ocean?"

I turned my head towards Lea, knitting my eyebrows together. "Pardon?"

"Well I just don't see how else we would have ended up at freaking Buckingham Palace," he muttered, keeping one hand on the steering wheel while the other tipped his aviators forward for a better look at the mansion at the end of the long, extravagant driveway he was currently cruising his car down. He gave a low whistle, "Shit, all it's missing are those dudes in the highschool band uniforms and big fuzzy hats."

Rolling my eyes, I snorted softly. "Oh come now, it's not that big."

He scoffed, "'Not that big' is something girlfriends say about their exes to protect their insecure boyfriends' fragile male egos. It's not what you say about the Taj Ma-fucking-hal here."

The dreaded weekend was upon us at last.

You know. The Weekend. Capital T, capital W.

Aka, the visit with my parents.

Operation Boyfriend But Shh Not Really was about to be tested to the extreme limits.

The chateau in question (maybe villa would be a better word? Or manor, perhaps? Really, it wasn't big at all, Lea was just exaggerating) belonged to my parents. This was the home I'd grown up in. It was weird coming back here now after all that had happened. Was still in the process happening, I suppose. My fingers fidgeted with my braid as the mansion loomed ever higher the closer we got.

Actually… now that we were more up close and I was really seeing it again… oh gosh, it was rather enormous, wasn't it?

...had it somehow grown in size since last I-?

Shush, now, don't be ridiculous. That was just the anxiety talking.

Of which I was in no short supply of. I still had no clue what was in store for this weekend. Anna seemed almost just as much in the dark as I was, which was strange seeing as how she still lived here. Then again, I was pretty sure she'd been spending a lot less time around home lately in favor of staying over at her new boyfriend's place. A man I still surprisingly knew absolute zilch about, but I was hoping Anna had invited him to join us for this weekend as well. That way, I'd get to meet him and maybe even have a little of the attention taken off me. Long shot, I know, considering he was only Anna's still relatively new beau whereas I'd skipped out on my own wedding and shamed my whole family (apparently), so this guy was kind of small potatoes by comparison. But hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

It was actually Friday evening right now, so we were going to be in for more of a long weekend - in every sense of the word. Lea and I had both worked early shifts today before going to our respective homes, getting changed, packing bags for staying over for two nights and then finally heading up. Not knowing what this weekend was going to entail was wreaking no small amount of havoc on my nerves. That said, it could have been worse. Pretty sure I'd actually been more nervous for the audition a couple days ago than I was for this. Maybe that was because the audition had just been so last minute, whereas I'd been preparing for this little get-together for a couple weeks now. Even I had to admit that Lea and I made a pretty convincing couple at this point. Sure, I still got a bit awkward with PDAs, but I was no longer anywhere near as bad as I had been the day I'd seen father at my old condo.

...then again, doing the whole relationship act around the mall for the past couple weeks was one thing. Trying to pull off the same charade in front of my parents now, not to mention the Duke as well? Probably was going to be a lot more complicated.

I really had no idea what was going to happen the moment we passed through those ornate double doors leading into my parent's home.

But I was about to find out.

Whether I liked it or not.

"Alright, we made it," Lea announced as he parked the car next to the big fountain in the middle of the circle driveway, shutting off his engine. He shot me a grin, "You ready for this, my lil sötnos?"

I blinked over at him, then narrowed my eyes. "Do I even want to know?"

"It's a Swedish term of endearment. Its literal translation is sweet nose. And if yours ain't the sweetest, I dunno what is," his grin twitched wider as he reached over to tweak said nose.

"Sweet n-" I groaned, swatting his hand away. "Veto."

"Aw c'mon, I thought that one was cute!" he gave a little whine. I just drooped my eyelids at him and he sighed, stretching over to open his glove compartment and pull a black marker from it. "Guess America's just not ready for the sweet nose," he grumbled, pulling the cap off with his teeth and marking something off on his palm.

I frowned. "...what are you doing?"

"Regrettably giving up on what is arguably the greatest pet name of all time, that's what."

"No, I meant with your hand." I snatched his in both mine, yanking it over in front of my face to discover a small list written on the inside of his palm, located at the top of which was sötnos with a line struck through it. "...are these... more terms of endearment for me?"

He smirked as he leaned in closer to stare down at his palm alongside me. "Yup! Since the big weekend's here, figured I'd best come prepared. This is important stuff we gotta nail down!"

I squinted at the words before me, reading, "Kruzynko…?"

"It means breadcrumb."

Scrunching up my nose, I stole the marker from him and crossed that one off. "No. Bogárkám?"

"My little bug," Lea supplied, sounding more confident in this one.

A snerk. "Nope," I popped the P. And another one bites the dust. My tongue tripped uncertainly over the next one, "Blodyn tatws?"

"Heh… potato flowers?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh wow, I love that one."

He perked up, "Really?"

"Absolutely... not," I said flatly, looking him dead in the eye as I drew a line across it as well.

"Aw man, not cool!" He pouted, then pursed his lips to one side. "Hey, is now really the best time to be doing this? We, uh…" he chuckled sheepishly, holding up his second hand to reveal a whole other list scrawled on that one too, "...might end up being here all day."

I stared blankly at him. "Just how many more of those do you have?"

"I'd show ya, but that'd require me going a lil more half monty than you'd probably prefer I'd get in your parent's driveway."

My brow furrowed and I leaned away slightly, eyeing him up and down. "...where…?"

He waggled his eyebrows at me, "That's for me to know and you to find out."

I let his hand drop from my grasp, "I'm good, thanks." As he snickered, I looked away, rubbing my fingertips over one of my (now brought to a low simmer) cheeks. "Can't you just stick to El? It's simple. Nice… I like El."

"You do?" I heard him ask and I directed a furtive sideways glance in his direction. A slow smile was curling his lips, "Alright… El it is." But then he was peeking down at his palm again. "...and also krúttið mitt."

Biting back a grin, I swat his shoulder. "How would you like it if I kept calling you some weird pet name in a foreign language all the time?"

Lea beamed, "I'd like it very much actually."

"Really? Fine," I took up his hand again, scrutinizing his palm, "...mo chuisle it is then."

His eyes lit up, "Ooo, that one's spicy!"

Oh dear, why had I thought this was a good idea again?

"...what's it mean?"

He bent towards me, eyes hooded as he purred, "You just called me your pulse."

I've made a grave error this day.

"Ah-ah!" he chirped, pressing a finger to my lips as they began to part. "Too late! No take-backsies!"

I huffed, unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind me.

Lea looked far too smug as he climbed out himself, retrieving both our bags from the backseat of the car on his way out and slinging them over his shoulder. He removed his aviators, hooking them into the collar of his black, fitted v-neck shirt as his eyes took in the mansion before us once again. He'd reclaimed his leather jacket to wear for this, accompanied by snug jeans tastefully ripped at just one knee and a pair a black, heavy, steel-toed boots. He'd blinged out a bit as well, sporting a small sun medallion that hung from a chain down to his mid-chest, along a few strappy leather bracelets and a couple of rings decorating his fingers. His winged guyliner was somehow even darker and bolder than usual and his hair had been pulled back into a half-tail.

Not going to lie, my traitorous fingers practically itched to pet that little red tuft at the back of his head.

Instead, I settled for fussing with the necklace that rested against my skin just above my collarbone. The pendant was formed of three blue, almond-shaped gemstones gathered together at one point. A present from Rayne to wish me luck on this trip. I was a much bigger fan of her good luck charm than I had been of the one Lea had "gifted" me with for the musical tryouts. I wore the small charm with a classic little wrap dress in a soft lilac. Off the shoulder of course - it was me we were talking about here, so you can probably guess it before I even say it at this point - and with the hem of the skirt flaring out around the knees.

Needless to say, looking at him and me side-by-side right now, it was clear one of us was either severely over or underdressed. Considering it was my parents' door we were about to knock on, one guess as to who was what.

"Try not to scratch the paint, chief!" Lea chipperly called out as he was suddenly tossing his keys at one of the staff under my parents' employ who just so happened to be walking past us in that second.

Eyes widening, the man fumbled to catch them. As Lea turned to head towards the front door, I followed, quirking my eyebrow at him. "What was that?"

"I'm blending in," he flashed a cheeky smile, shoving a hand into one pocket of his jacket. "Whatcha think, do I sound like a rich asshole or what?"

I tipped my head to one side. "...actually, you kind of sounded like my ex."

A snort escaped through his nose. "I'll take that as a yes then."

We walked a couple steps in silence. Then, "That wasn't a valet, by the way."

He froze midstep, looking at me sharply. "What?"

"That was a gardener. My parents don't even have a valet."

"Oh." Lea glanced back over his shoulder, frowning. "...maybe I should go get my keys back then."

I hid a small grin behind my fingers. "Maybe you should."

Waiting politely, I watched him jog back towards the worker to do just that, along with offering what looked to be quite the humble apology. "Got 'em!" he declared once he'd rejoined me, flinging them up into the air before catching them again to slip into his pocket. "So even a proper gent like your old man feels the need to prove what a hot, young stud he still is, eh? Wouldn't of thought him the type."

"What?" I blinked a couple times. Where'd that come from?

He tossed his chin back towards his vehicle. More specifically, at the few other cars he'd parked next to. "I recognize Anna's Porsche over there, but that blue Ferrari reeks of midlife crisis."

"...that's my car." Then I grimaced and amended, "Rather, was my car."

"Huh?" he looked taken aback. "You drive? Since when?"

I gave a small shrug, "Since always."

"Then why're you always having me n' your roomies chauffeur you around? Not that I mind..."

"I don't have a car or the funds to purchase one." He wordlessly jerked his thumb back towards the Ferrari, face blank. I sighed, "My parents bought me that. It didn't feel right keeping it after… everything. Not with me trying to separate myself from them and make it on my own. No, I plan to buy my own once I've saved up enough."

"Shit, still shoulda kept it," Lea said and I gave him a dull look. He hastily waved a hand in front of him, "Even if ya didn't want it, you coulda sold it and made bank before giving all that munny away to charity. Ya know, just so you could really stick it to your folks."

Shaking my head with a soft chuckle, I started walking towards the entrance again. "Let's just get on with this."

"Aye aye, Capitaine," he gave me a two-fingered salute, catching up to me with his long strides.

Feeling my chest start to constrict as we drew nearer to those doors, I blew out a soft, slow breath. "I hope we're not late. I shouldn't have let you talk me into that salon visit after we got off work."

"What, you needed something to help ya relax and a quick spa day was just the ticket! 'Sides, I wanted to make myself all pretty for this! Whaddya think?" He stretched his arm out before us both, fingers wiggling to show off his fresh coat of black nail polish. "If this doesn't impress your folks and tell 'em what a man of sophisticated tastes I am, I dunno what will!"

I snorted. "I think my father is more of a mauve man himself."

"Really? Crap, you shoulda said something! I'd have asked for a matching color so he and I could be twinsies! Shucks," he snapped his fingers, "missed opportunity."

Coming to a stop on the doorstep, I reached for the bell, but my fingers hesitated.

This was so strange. I'd lived here. Spent my childhood here. I'd never had to use the doorbell before.

...why did the idea of doing so now seem so hard?

A sudden warmth enveloped my other hand. I looked down to discover Lea was holding it. He gave it a small squeeze as he said softly, "Hey. Whatever happens in there, just know I'm here for you."

I felt a small stutter in my chest as a tiny smile tugged at my lips. "...thank you," I murmured, squeezing back before looking to the doorbell once more. Taking a deep, calming breath, I pushed the button at last and a heavy chime could be heard within.

While we waited, a glimmer of something at Lea's waist caught my eye and I turned to see what it was. A crease formed between my eyebrows. "...is that… a wallet chain?"

How had I missed that thing until now?

"Hm?" he followed my gaze. "Oh! Yup! Heh, thought it might really pull the whole look together! Do I look like a punkass bad boy now or what?"

"Or what," I fixed him with a deadpan stare. "You look ridiculous."

He splayed a hand against his chest in mock offense. "Rude. Can't believe you'd talk to your pulse like that."

Face warming, I hung my head. "...I'm never going to hear the end of that, am I?"

"Nope!" he grinned wickedly.

"Would you just take that silly thing off?"

"No can do, sweetcheeks! Boys like to accessorize too, ya know," he sniggered, giving the chain a little twirl. "Just be grateful I left the spiked choker in the glove compartment."

"Spi-?!" I spluttered over the word before managing a scoff and crossing my arms. "Oh, trust me, I am. The point is to get my parents to back off, not to send them into cardiac arrest!"

...huh… Lea in a spiked choker…

"You're trynta imagine what I'd look like wearing it now, aren't ya?" he'd hunched down beside me to whisper into my ear with a smirk.

My cheeks burned so hot, you could have roasted marshmallows on the damn things.

"...am not."

I was almost grateful when the door swung open just then. And also a little surprised, because the face that greeted me wasn't that of my parents' house maid Gerda.

No, instead it was that of a pale, wide-eyed, huffing and puffing Anna.

(With Gerda right behind her, looking quite harried and put out by the fact that my sister had stolen her job.)

"Elsa!" she cried out in relief. "Finally! What took you so long?!"

Furrowing my brow, I began, "Anna? What-?"

"No time! Get." She lunged towards me. "In here." Her hands seized my shoulders. "Now!" I was forcibly yanked inside.

I heard the door booming shut behind me and could only hope that Lea had managed to slip in himself in time as well. Gripping my sister's arms, I tried again, "What's going on? We couldn't be more than a few minutes la-"

Her hand suddenly shot out to squeeze my cheeks together between her thumb and fingers, squishing my face and effectively silencing me. "Shush! No talkie! Only listen! Oh, it's bad, Sis. Really, really bad! It's him! He's here! Like, here here! Right friggin' now!"

"Who's here?" I asked, tugging my face free of her vice-like grip and working my jaw. I knit my eyebrows together at Gerda, who was frantically circling us as she kept trying and failing to get a word in edgewise. "The Duke? I already knew-"

"No! Not the Duke! Of course not, he won't be here until tomorrow! Gah! You know, Sis, sometimes you can be really-" Anna cut herself off in a tiny snarl, fingers curling in front of her to strangle empty air. "Ugh! Anyway, it's- I didn't- It was just- Out of nowhere- Mom and Dad, they- He- His-"

"I think she's trying to tell us something. What is it, Lassie? Timmy trapped in the well again?" Lea snerked as he let our luggage fall to the foyer floor beside his boots.

Ignoring him, I gently rubbed my hands up and down Anna's arms. "Breathe. Calm down. Take a minute to gather your thoughts."

"People!" she suddenly blurted out, startling me a bit. "Lots of them! Loads of them! So many people!"

I frowned. "People? Where? You mean here, now?"

She shook her head rapidly, "No, no, no, no! Not now people! Future people! Tomorrow people! And… and caterers! And musicians! And decorators and, and, and him! He's- Right now, he's- just down the hall, he's- he's-"

"Who, Anna? Who?" I insisted.

Her hands violently shook me, "Him!"

Right. Thanks, Sis. Big help you are.

Why was she like this?

The maid finally managed to pipe in, "What Miss is trying to tell you is that your-"

"Got it, Gerda, thanks!" Anna huffed out with a tiny scowl. Then she took in a deep breath, preparing to say something.

"Crap, I think that dude just robbed us," Lea chimed in first.

Holding a finger up to Anna, I whipped my head around to see what he was talking about: an older gentleman in a black suit walking briskly away with our bags. "Oh, that's just Kai."

Lea cocked an eyebrow at me, "The robber's name is Kai?"

"No, the butler's name is Kai."

"Why would the butler rob us?"

"He's not robbing us, he's just taking our things up to our room." I blanched. "Rooms." Plural. As in more than one. My parents would never, not in a million years, have put Lea and me in the same room under their roof… right? Oh gosh, why was the possibility only just now occurring to me? "He's, uh… he's p-putting them where we'll be staying. Separately. As in, not together. Completely and one hundred percent apart," I (overly) clarified, fighting that blush I felt creeping up my neck now.

Anna suddenly grabbed my head with both hands and forced me to look at her again, grounding out through her teeth, "You're. Not. Listening to me!" Then with a grumbling sigh, she snagged my hand in hers and started dragging me down one of the many corridors that branched off from the foyer. "Come on, we better hurry, they're probably wondering what's taking so long."

Gerda squeaked and scurried after us. "Right this way, please, and I'll see you to the Marigold Room where your hosts await your presence!" she awkwardly trilled, trying to maintain some semblance of performing her duties despite Anna's continued interference.

A whistle from Lea confirmed he was following as well. "Lemme guess. The Duke in the conservatory with the candlestick."

"Wha-?" my voice faltered as my feet tripped trying keep up with Anna, only barely managing to keep myself upright.

He grinned down at me as he strode along, shrugging. "This whole place is a legit, life-sized Clue board. Just trynta play the game here."

I stumbled again. "Ow, Anna! Not so hard. What is the rush?"

Not slowing down, she glanced back at me over her shoulder. "Come on, Elsa, think! What day is it?"

"Uh…" Was this a trick question? "...Friday?"

A low, agitated noise emitted from her throat. "No, what day?"

I squinted up at the ceiling in thought. "...the seventh?"

"Yes!" she spun around to tap her nose excitedly, her feet still moving backwards. "Which would make tomorrow…?"

"The eighth." Lost by this line of questioning? I know I was.

"Of?" she pressed. "What month, Elsa?"

"The eighth of… oh!" It finally clicked and I staggered again, my eyes growing round. "...oh no. It's his birthday. Oh gosh, he's here?! Right now?!"

"Yes! Finally! Thank you!" Anna cried out in exasperation.

"Who?" Lea asked, both eyebrows shooting up his forehead at my sudden change of attitude.

"It's-" I began, but that one word was all I got out before Anna took a sudden sharp turn, yanking me into the Marigold Room with her and bringing us face to face with-

"Grandfather!" I breathed, feet faltering as Anna brought us both to a sudden and jerky stop before him.

He cut an imposing figure, my grandfather. Tall, like father, and with the same red hair too that had been passed down to Anna. His however bore prominent streaks of grey at his temples - really the only sign of him getting on in years as he otherwise looked remarkably good for a man of his age. Still fit as a fiddle, barrel-chested, with a strong, square jaw and a sharp, piercing gaze.

A gaze that was so cold right now that I didn't know how I wasn't frozen into solid ice on the spot.

Anna had been wrong.

This wasn't bad.

This was catastrophic.

Because my grandfather? Not exactly the nicest person. Remember what my father had been like? Well, just think - he'd had to learn it from somewhere. And next to Grandfather, my father seemed warm and cuddly. Like sunshine and rainbows. Heck, Father was as friggin' teletubby by comparison to the man who'd raised him. Grandfather was cut from the same cloth as his brother, the Duke. The epitome of old fashioned and proper etiquette. The thing was, where the Duke was all bluster and tantrums, Grandfather just got quiet when he was angry. Like... really, really quiet. An ominous kind of quiet. A bone-chilling kind of quiet. Whenever Grandfather stopped talking, that's when I really got scared of the man.

No, scratch that. That was when I got petrified of the man.

So the fact that he was just staring down his nose at me right now, eyes narrowed, lips set into a grim, disapproving line, and not uttering a single word? Would have been enough to turn my hair stark white if it weren't pretty damn close already.

And to make matters worse? Mother and Father stood not five feet behind him looking rather unamused with me themselves.

Oh gosh, this wasn't going to be some pleasant, little family gathering.

This was going to be an execution. Mine, to be exact.

Gerda suddenly appeared off to one side, panting to catch her breath and making a hasty curtsy towards my parents and grandfather before announcing, "Elsa and her guest have arrived."

...thanks, Gerda. I think they figured that out already.

I watched as she turned and hurried to make her exit before reluctantly returning my gaze to Grandfather. Still, he said nothing. Just arched one bushy eyebrow at me and waited.

Oh fudge, he wanted me to be the first one to speak? Where do I even begin? What do I even say? Could I even talk right now? I don't think I could, not with how heavy my tongue suddenly felt, like it had turned into solid lead. What was I supposed to do here? How-

Suddenly, I felt it. A hand. Lea's hand, slipping across the small of my back and coming to rest on my hip, pulling me gently into his side. "Aren'tcha gonna introduce me, babe?" he asked, voice low and sugary-sweet as he grinned and pressed a kiss to my temple.

Grandfather's thick mustache gave a little twitch.

That's all it took for me to know. Not thirty seconds into this and there was absolutely zero doubt in my mind.

Before this weekend was out, Grandfather was going to murder Lea.

Inhaling and exhaling, I wrung my hands together and somehow figured out how to do this thing called 'talking' once again. "F-Father, you've already had the, uh… the pleasure, but Grandfather, Mother… this… this is…" I screwed my eyes shut, trying to steel myself.

Come on, Elsa, you can do this. Just one word. Just one measly, little word.

"This is my boooooo-" What was this? What was I doing here? "-oooooooooooooooo-" Why was I stretching the syllable out so friggin' long? What, had I gotten stuck? "-oooooooooooooo-" Dear god, how was there this much oxygen in my lungs? "-oooooooooo-" I didn't think there was even this much oxygen on the whole planet, much less inside my lungs. "-oooyyyyyyy-" Oh good. Progress. At this rate, I'd complete the word sometime this century. "-yyyyyyyyy-"

Anna, my divine saviour and blessed angel of mercy, jabbed her elbow into my gut.

"-friend!" I finished at last with a cough. "Boyfriend. This is my...my boyfriend. Yes. This is he. He is this." A beat. Then, "Lea! By the way. His name, that is. Yup. Lea the Boyfriend. My boyfriend. That's right, Lea is my boyfriend. My boyfriend is-"

"I think they get it, Sis," Anna hissed quietly out of the corner of her plastered-on smile.

Gee, I was getting so good at this whole lying thing, wasn't I?

"Pleased to meet ya, Gramps," Lea stretched out a hand towards him.

Grandfather didn't take it. Instead, he just stared long and hard at it. At the black nail polish and rings adorning it. Finally, he lifted his chin with a sniff and straightened his already ramrod posture even further. "That'll be Sir to you, young man."

"Oo, how formal. Whatever you say," he retracted his hand with a smirk, "Sir Gramps."

This had been a mistake, using Lea as my rent-a-boyfriend.

Actually… no, mistake would be an understatement. This was a powder keg and Lea was a goddamn burning match.

Pushing past my now rigidly stiff grandfather, Lea approached my parents next. "Pops, always a pleasure. Ma'am," he took my mother's hand in his to politely press his lips to the back of it, "lovely to make your acquaintance."

She looked slightly taken aback, blue eyes widening. However, Mother recovered quickly, delicately plucking her fingers from his grip to smooth at the tight bun her brown hair was currently up in before primly folding her hands together just below her waist. When she smiled, it was gracious but tight. "As it is yours," there was a briefest of pauses before she tacked on a hesitant, "Lea. Please, take a seat. Dinner should be ready shortly, but would anyone like a drink prepared while we wait?"

I was relieved to hear Lea answer with, "I'm good, thanks." Because a return of Wine Tipsy Lea was by far the very last thing this situation needed right now. As I declined as well, a quick look around brought to my attention the fact that we were the only two not partaking as it seemed the others had already started before we'd gotten here. Mother and Father were sipping at what looked to be some sort of dark red cabernet, while Anna retrieved her own glass and moved towards the mini bar to refill it - most likely with something sweet, fruity and potent enough to bring down an elephant, knowing her. On the low table around which all the seats gathered was a sturdy glass full of ice and an amber liquid. Probably Grandfather's. Probably bourbon.

I shifted over towards the sofa opposite the table from my parents and all three of us took a seat at the same time. Lea joined me soon after, slipping his arm around my shoulders as he flumped down into the cushions beside me. Grandfather, however, hadn't budged from where he stood since we'd entered the room. Not one inch. "Father," was all my father said to him - partially warning, partially pleading.

Grandfather's mustache twitched again and his left eye ticked. But then he moved to sit down in the armchair in front of the bourbon, snatching up the glass and sullenly nursing it.

Dear lord, this was a nightmare. No, this was Hell. That had to be it - I'd died and was now in my own little corner of the Underworld specifically designed and crafted to torture me in the cruelest way possible. I could already feel the stress burning an ulcer into my stomach and no amount of Lea's fingers lightly trailing up and down my arm would calm me down.

There was no point in putting it off, right? I should just do it now. Bring up the thing that was on all of our minds but no one was talking about. You know, the thing. The wedding thing… or rather, the whole lack of the wedding thing. I should just get this over with. Rip the bandaid off. Getting it all out in the open now had to be better than this. Anything had to be better than this… right?

Hands fidgeting furiously in my lap and this close to dislocating a finger, I licked my dry lips and managed to find my voice. "Perhaps now… we should discuss what exactly h-happened on… on my-"

"That is a topic that would be best saved for later," Father talked over me, his stern voice cutting me off. "Let us speak of other things right now."

My head rocked back at that, my forehead wrinkling. I flicked my gaze over to Grandfather briefly - who was still stewing quietly over his drink - then back to my parents. "But I thought-"

"Now's not the time, Elsa," Mother insisted firmly. "This is not a discussion that will be brief, nor will it be suitable to have over dinner. Besides, your father and I will have our hands full preparing for the party tomorrow evening, so this is a conversation that will just have to wait until the day after."

A frown tugged at my lips. "You're hosting a party?"

"For Grandfather's birthday," Anna plopped down onto the sofa beside me, freshened drink in hand. "Since, ya know, it's such a huge one. The big seven-oh. The whole family is going to be there to celebrate. And I mean, the whole family," she shot me a pointed look over the rim of her glass as she took a swig.

Oh. So that's what she'd meant earlier by "tomorrow people."

Why couldn't she have been this articulate when she'd greeted me at the door?

Mother added, "You are, of course, invited to attend the celebration as well, Lea. I know Father would be thrilled for you to join us."

Uh-huh. Sure. Grandfather looked positively pleased as punch over there at the very prospect.

"Sounds like a blast, count me in," Lea grinned.

Alright so… the birthday soirée would be tomorrow, then The Talk™ would be the day after. Roughly two days… forty-eight hours of waiting and worrying and dreading and- oh dear, I had to wonder what the world record for longest sustained panic attack might be. Start the timer, I was about to shatter that sucker.

A hush fell over the room, with the only sound coming from the clinking of the ice in Grandfather's drink accompanied by the ticking of the ancient but well-kept longcase clock in the corner. The ticking seemed to get louder with each passing second.

After one painfully long minute, Mother was finally the one to break the silence. "So Lea," she began, her eyes intent on him, "please… tell us a little about yourself."

"Where to even begin? Lessee here." Uh oh. I didn't like that little gleam he had in his eye as he rubbed a curled finger over his chin. "Well, I guess ya could say I had the kinda childhood every lil tyke dreams about: full of joy and love and the foster system." It was probably a good thing I hadn't gotten a drink because I'd probably be choking on it right now just like my parents were with theirs. "But I mean, with a druggie dad who bought the farm and a druggie mom who split outta my life first chance she got, where else was I s'posed to go?

"As for the rest after that, let's just give ya the highlights." Now he started ticking off his fingers, "College dropout. Ride a motorcycle. In a hardcore death metal band. Smoke ten packs a day." For the love of… he did remember the part about not giving my parents a heart attack, right? "Just got my thirty-day chip from AA - hey, fifth times a charm, right? Oh, I'm also a wanted felon in three different states. Wait…" he squinted one eye, pursing his lips to the left, "...make that four. Always forget about Connecticut. Which reminds me, I need to check in with my parole officer."

"He's joking!" I said quickly with a tiny, nervous laugh.

"Or am I?" he leaned forward in his seat to whisper conspiratorially, eyebrows bouncing. I pinched his arm, forcing a soft tch from him. "But let's not forget the most important thing ya need to know about me: how completely," he kissed my pinky, "and totally," another one for my ring finger, "head over heels," three more, one for each word and each remaining finger, "I am for your daughter."

Alright, you need to cool your jets, cheeks. This was all just part of the show, after all.

A show that was possibly being performed a bit too well. Grandfather's knuckles had gone so white around his glass, I was surprised the poor thing hadn't shattered into a million pieces yet.

Lea tapped his index to his lips now, "Hmmm, what else? Oh! Got a pretty cool story about this gnarly scar my half-brother gave me with a-"

"Anna!" I suddenly burst out, turning towards her at the same time I snagged Lea's hand, keeping him from lifting the hem of his shirt. She froze mid-sip, glancing at me out of the corner of her eyes. "What about you? What's new with you? You have that new boyfriend of yours, right? What about him, will he be joining us this weekend?"

Who me? Trying to change the subject? Psh, I would never!

She winced, averting her gaze and lowering her drink as she traced a finger around the rim. "Oh jeez, my…? Well... he, er… he was going to make it for dinner tonight but… something… unfortunately came up! But he should definitely be here in time for the party tomorrow, so… don't worry! Heh… I- oo, little cheeses!" she cried out excitedly as Gerda abruptly appeared once more to place a small platter of hors d'oeuvres on the coffee table. Anna immediately proceeded to stuff her face with them before pointing at her bulging cheeks and shaking her head, signaling she could no longer talk.

A crease formed between my eyebrows.

Huh… was it just me or was Anna acting kind of weird?

Maybe the tension around the room just had us all on edge, even her. Yeah, that was probably all it was.

"And you, Elsa?" Father's cool tone snapped my attention back to him. Each word that followed was slow and measured, as if he were picking them very carefully, "Tell us how you have been keeping yourself occupied during these past several weeks."

"Oh!" I gnawed on my lower lip, my fingers already tugging at my braid before I'd even realized it. "Well, I've… reconnected with an old friend - you remember Rayne from when I went to summer camp? Well she's married now with a baby on the way, can you imagine? And… and I've gotten myself a place to live and have found a job and-"

-and auditioned for a musical.

That was what I'd been about to tell them. However when I tried, the words got caught in my throat.

I knew they'd disapprove. That they'd probably scoff and wonder why I was still wasting my time on such childish, useless things. But it wasn't childish or useless, at least not to me. To me, the audition had been so important, had brought me so much happiness. I didn't want to give my parents the chance to belittle and ridicule it. I didn't want them to take this thing that was so special away from me.

So instead I released my braid and folded my hands in my lap, sitting up a little straighter as I simply said, "...and that's it really."

I could sense Lea's eyes on me. I think he knew what I'd purposely omitted. Thankfully, he kept his mouth shut about it.

"So… Lea…" Grandfather spoke up suddenly, his voice dangerously low and making me flinch. "I hear you're in the…" his lip curled in a slight sneer, "...pizza business? Is that right?"

Smirking back, he slouched a bit more comfortably into his seat. "That's right. I sling dough at a lil pizza joint in the local mall food court. Great place by the name of Pizza Planet… you ever been?"

His jaw clenched ever so slightly. "No, can't say that I have. But this... Pizza Planet," he said it like those were the two most offensive words in the english language, "...is that where you see yourself working for the rest of your life?"

Lea chuckled, his hand batting the air, "Nah, that'd just be silly! No, I won't be selling pizza forever." His mouth curved into a cheshire grin, "Instead I'll be selling ice cream."

"He plans to own his own business, Grandfather," I hastily clarified.

"His own business… selling ice cream," he growled, pointer finger incessantly tapping against his glass now. "And this is how you would plan to provide for and take care of my granddaughter."

"Pardon me, Sir Gramps," there was a hint of an edge to Lea's voice now, despite his unwavering smile, "but I was under the impression that your granddaughter was her own person fully capable of taking care of herself."

You know that chilling, goosebump-inducing, hackles-raising energy you can feel crackling in the air right before a devastating storm strikes and ravages the land?

That was exactly how it felt right now in the space between Grandfather and Lea.

Luckily, Gerda appeared in the nick of time to divert the tempest by announcing, "Dinner is ready!"

"Thank you, Gerda," Mother had stood in the blink of an eye and was already making her way over to Grandfather. "If you would be so kind as to escort me, Father?"

His hard, unblinking gaze was still on Lea and for a second it seemed like he hadn't even heard her. But at last he tore his eyes away with a harrumph and put his drink back down on the table with a sharp, audible clink. "Of course, my dear," he said evenly as he rose from his own chair, offering her his arm and leading her out of the room.

I turned to Anna, but before I could say anything she'd already bolted up and around the table to grab both of Father's hands in hers. "C'mon, Dad! Walk me to dinner too!" she yanked him up, startling a soft grunt out of him as he staggered to his feet. Then she was hooking her arm through his elbow and all but dragging him out of the room with her.

What the…?

...maybe Anna was just super hungry?

"I think that went really well!" Lea chirped, giving me a thumbs up.

I merely drooped my eyelids at him and said nothing.

Later that night found me in my old bedroom. I'd deduced this was where I was expected to sleep, seeing as how this was where Kai had deposited my luggage. As suspected, Lea had been set up in one of the guest rooms further down the hall, so it was just me alone in here now.

It felt odd being back in this room. Just like it'd felt odd returning to my parent's home or going back to my old condo. I don't know, I guess I just didn't feel like I... belonged here anymore. Like I was some piece that everyone else was trying to force into the wrong puzzle, even though my edges didn't fit and the picture didn't match at all.

Sighing, I shifted in my chair to face the mirror on my vanity once more - this one a lot nicer than the one we'd scrounged up for my room back at the apartment I shared with Rayne and Riku, as you might imagine. Having just finished combing out my hair, I set my brush aside and my fingers idly went to work on rebraiding as my thoughts began to wander.

Dinner had ended up just being the sequel to drinks in the Marigold Room. My parents had continued to try and maintain some semblance of being hospitable hosts while keeping up strained conversation. Grandfather had continued to be a seething ball of barely-held-in-check fury and I don't think he'd said more than two words for the rest of the evening. Lea had continued to… well, be Lea. And as for my sister…

I quite honestly had no idea what was going on with her. Maybe it was just my imagination but it seemed every time I'd tried to talk to her, something else had always gotten in the way. Like I'd open my mouth to speak but before I could so much as make a peep, she'd already engaged Mother or Father in some new topic. Or I'd ask her a question only to have her look at me, lips pursed shut against a mouth full of food and shoulders shrugging. There was even one time where all I'd said was her name before she'd accidentally knocked over her drink. At least, I thought it'd been accidental… unless...

Could it be that she was... purposely avoiding talking to me? Had I done something to upset her? I couldn't even begin to think what. Last I'd seen her a week ago, she'd been fine. Everything had been normal between us. What could have possibly changed since?

...maybe I was just reading too much into it. It was probably just a lot of coincidence and poor timing. In fact-

There was a knock at my door just then.

Ha! Bet you that was her now. See? Nothing to worry about, I'd just been overthinking it all. Tying off my completed braid, I rose to answer the door.

And indeed, it was a redhead that I found waiting in the corridor on the other side.

Just not the redhead I'd been expecting.

"Lea?" I frowned, both my eyebrows rising.

He snerked, "Yeesh, don't act too excited to see me."

"What? No, I'm- You're just not who I-" I pressed my lips shut, heaving a small sigh through my nose. "...nevermind. What brings you here?"

"Brought ya something," he grinned and for the first time, I realized he was hiding his hands behind his back. "May I come in?"

My head tipped to the right. "Uh...sure," I opened the door wider, my bare feet stepping off to one side as I absently smoothed at my dress - the same one from dinner. Lea had arrived just before I'd been about to change for bed.

He was still in his earlier clothes as well, though he'd left behind his boots and jacket. I couldn't help but notice he hadn't taken that cute little half-tail out of his hair yet. I also couldn't help but notice the way he carefully managed to keep whatever he had behind him out of sight, even as he walked past me into the room. I closed the door and when I faced him, he hunched down to my eye level, "Ya ready?"

I crossed one hand over my abdomen and gestured with the other for him to continue.

"Ta-da!" he brought one hand forward now, revealing a little black strip lined with sharp, metal points dangling from the clasp pinched between his fingertips.

That's right. It was the spiked collar.

...whatever I'd been expecting, it hadn't been this.

My eyes blinked once. Then twice. "...you were serious? You actually have one of those?"

"Course! What, didja think I was lying? I'm offended, madame," he hmphed, putting his free hand to his breast.

I snorted with a roll of my eyes, "Well no, not lying, but more so just joking."

"I never joke about studded leather," he waggled his eyebrows at me.

Nose crinkling, I delicately poked a finger into one of the spikes. "Alright, so why exactly are you showing me this?"

Lea smirked and shrugged. "Your curiosity just seemed so piqued when I mentioned it earlier."

I gave him a flat look. "It was not piqued."

"Keep telling yourself that," he chuckled then paused, eyes crinkling. "...so you wanted to know what it looked like on me, right?"

Cheeks lightly toasted now, I scowled, "I never said-"

He wrapped the thing around his neck, holding it in place with a hand instead of fastening the tiny buckle in back.

Oh.

Oh, I see.

...it was, um… hrm, it was… interesting.

Damn it, face, be cool. That goes double for you, heart! Don't go thinking I can't hear that racket you're making down there!

"Well, I guess that's one mystery solved," was all I said as I glanced away, hand coming up to cover one cheek in a vain attempt to hide the growing blush.

"Glad I could be of service," he murmured as he (mercifully) removed the collar from his throat once more.

"...why do you even own one?" I asked, hesitantly reaching for the accessory now.

He let me take it from him. "Just a relic from my pissed-off, rebellious juvenile delinquent days that I managed to dig up again recently. What a punkass lil poser I was back then, huh?" he hummed a tiny laugh as he looked down at his feet, lightly scuffing one against the carpet.

Intrigued by it now, I turned it over in my hands as he spoke before taking it over to the mirror on my vanity. "I suppose we all try to find different ways to express ourselves when we're young. Just a part of growing up and figuring out who we are," I said distractedly as I watched my reflection bring the choker up to encircle her neck, tilting her head slightly to the left with a thoughtful frown.

"Well I guess that'd make me a-" whatever quip he'd had locked and loaded was forever lost as he made a sudden strangled, choking noise.

I looked over at him sharply, brow furrowing as I lowered the spiked collar once more. "You okay? What happened?"

His fist thumped his chest as he fought for breath, which was making his face red. "N-nothing," he wheezed, rapidly shaking his head. "Just oxygen, man. That shit'll kill ya, am I right? Heh."

I squinted at him dubiously.

Lea was such a weirdo sometimes.

He averted his gaze now, rubbing at the back of his neck. "You, uh… that choker looked good on ya. Like really, really good."

"You think so?" I frowned down at where it rested in my palm before holding it out to him, "I'll just have to take your word for it."

"Keep it," he grinned, pushing my hand back towards me. "Ya never know when you'll need one for an impromptu angry goth phase."

I smiled at that, "I think I'm in the clear. Isn't that more of a teenager thing?"

"Please. Angry goth isn't an age, it's a state of mind."

"If you say so," I snorted, but put the choker down on my vanity. I had to wonder what my parents might say if they ever discovered it in here with the rest of my things.

"So," he piped up once more, pulling my attention back to him, "this is the bedroom that sweet lil El grew up in, huh?"

As I watched Lea take a few steps further in now, it suddenly occurred to me... this was the first time a boy had ever been in my bedroom. And not just any boy - this was my crush.

Wow… it felt so highschool when I put it that way.

To be fair though, this wasn't an experience I'd ever got to have while I was actually in highschool.

Better late than never, I suppose?

I only wish it didn't make me want to squirm so much as his eyes roved over everything in here, from the big, purple, gauzy canopy bed to the embellished, oversized wardrobe and matching dresser set. From the cushy, inset bench beneath a grand window in the unique shape of a triangle to the tall, antique shelves of neatly arranged novels and DVD cases of old musicals and plays. From the small sitting area in one corner furnished with plush red chairs to the vintage Broadway posters hanging from the walls in expensive frames.

The room was not small by any means, but him being in it somehow seemed to make it shrink. Like here was this big guy that had somehow found his way into a cutesy little dollhouse room. The comparison did not make me want to fidget any less.

Trying to take my mind off it, I began, "So… earlier at drinks and dinner, did you really have to be so…" I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to find the right word. "...just so, ah…"

"So much of a grade-A jackass?" he suggested brightly. Not exactly the word I would have used, but still, I gave a slow nod and he laughed. "Remember, the whole point was for me to be a total hooligan so they didn't just think me some pushover they could boss around or scare off. Think they got that message loud and clear. 'Sides, pushing every last button of the girlfriend's folks is kinda a hallmark of being a classic bad boy."

My fingers found their way to my braid, running up and down it. "But there's a big difference between pushing a few buttons and having a deathwish."

"Aw, how sweet, you worried about lil ol' me, El?" He paused briefly in his casual perusal of my room to glance my way, flashing me that cursed dimple of his, "I'm so flattered."

I shook my head, "I just think you didn't have to go to such extremes or be quite so-"

"Gotta question for ya," he interjected, coming over to stand in front of me. "Say I had showed up on my very best behavior. The perfect gentleman, minded all my P's and Q's and was just the saintliest boyfriend to ever saint. Do you think your family would be singing my praises right about now?"

My eyes shifted about and I tried weakly, "...well… maybe if-"

"Do you truly, honestly believe that your family would ever accept a white trash lil nobody like me dating their precious princess of a daughter?" he pressed quietly yet firmly.

I tucked in my lower lip, hesitating for a long moment before a tiny grimace twisted my face and I mumbled, "Probably not, no."

Lea gave a little smile that almost seemed a touch sad before he turned away once more, returning his attention to exploring the bedroom. "Thought so. I was screwed the second I so much as dared to breathe the same air as your gramps. So if they're all gonna hate my guts whether I play the part of boy scout or hoodlum, might as well go with door numeros dos and at least have some fun while I'm at it," he chuckled.

"Fine, I see your point," I crossed my arms with a frown. "But still, you might want to tone it back just a smidge. Grandfather has munny and connections. He can seriously make you disappear."

A snerk. "I'd like to see him try. I'm one tough son of a bitch to get rid of," he muttered as he neared my bed now, reaching out a hand to poke some of the draping aside as he peeked in, "Trust me, no one axes me that easily, got it memorized? He's in for one rude awakening if he thinks he can just- gah!" he stumbled back in surprise, blinking a couple times before shifting the canopy again for a second look. "The fuck is that ugly lil bastard?!"

I rushed over, snatching up the stuffed plushie sitting atop my neatly made bed and hugging it close as I glared at Lea. "It's a snowman and shush, he's cute! Cuter than you anyway!"

His horrified gaze darted from me to the doll and back. "Dear god, I hope not!"

Sitting down on my mattress, I spun the little guy around in my lap for a better look at him - it'd probably been at least four-some-odd years since I'd last seen the plush, after all. And okay, sure, I could admit he probably wouldn't be winning any beauty contests any time soon, but give the poor, stuffed snowman a break! I had had him since I was a baby and he had had to endure more than one stitch repair job, especially with what a destructive little toddler Anna had been. Despite all that, I still thought him rather handsome with a unique, quirky charm to him.

Giving Lea a flat look and hitching my chin, I said dryly, "My statement stands."

"Wow, guess it's true what they say, beauty really is in the eye of the beholder," he grumbled, narrowing his gaze on the plushie as I snuggled it close to me once more. But then one corner of his lips quirked up and he bowed down to look me in the eye, tipping his head to one side as he murmured, "Hope I at least rate a close second."

Resident cheeks be advised: flash fire warnings are now in effect.

I held my tongue and just glanced away.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he straightened back up and shoved his hands into his pockets. "So… about that big party tomorrow…"

Thank goodness, a new topic! "What about it?"

Shrugging, Lea said, "Just wanna know what to expect."

My fingers idly stroked at the snowman's head - the fabric still felt soft after all these years, even if it had taken on more of a dull gray color by now as opposed to its original pristine, snowy white. "Well… it'll probably be held in our ballroom-"

"This small palace has a freaking ballroom too?" He shook his head with a snort, "I was kidding before, but this place really is just one big damn Clue board."

Rolling my eyes, I continued, "And it'll probably be packed with all our relatives. Believe me, there are a lot of us on both sides of the family. Acquaintances too. Honestly, it'll most likely all be rather boring. Just a whole lot of mingling, maybe a speech or two, and an over abundance of food accompanied by music."

"Music…" he repeated, frowning up at the ceiling now as one hand went to the nape of his neck, tugging at the little hairs there. "So that mean there'll be dancing? Like… the fancy kind?"

I cocked my head at him. "Are you worried about having to waltz?" Resting my stuffed doll against my pillows, I stood up, "I can teach you if you'd like."

He blinked at me, expression unreadable. Then, "Alright."

I stepped over to stand before him. Now that I got close, I was reminded of just how freakishly tall the man was. My stomach did a little somersault at that and I was already regretting this decision. But it was too late to turn back now. Beating the blush back, locking it up and throwing away the key, I schooled my face into seriousness.

I was going to handle this like a professional, damnit!

"It's fairly simple really, and you've probably seen more than your fair share of it in those sappy movies you like so much. Our hands come together, like this," I joined my right with his left, holding them up to one side. "While your other hand goes…" gingerly taking his wrist in my grasp, I tentatively guided his palm to rest on my hip, hoping the action didn't seem as awkward as it had felt, "...right there." Finally, I settled my left hand on his shoulder and looked up the few inches that separated us.

Big mistake.

Jeez, having eyes as green and beautiful and heart spasm-inducing as his should've been illegal!

And being surrounded by his warm, cinnamony boy scent was not helping matters one bit.

I hastily broke eye contact, opting to look down at our toes instead. Toes are nice. Toes are safe. "It's, uh... it's very easy. You just take steps in the shape of a square. Watch my feet and follow along, I'll go slow. Forward with your left foot first," I took a step back and he moved with me, "then to the side with your right… now bring them together… Good. Then back with your right… out with your left… and together again." I took him through it a few more times without issue. "See? Simple. You're already getting the hang of it."

"I just must have a really good teacher," he said in a low hum.

"At this rate I'll soon be the one following your lead instead of… wait," my forehead wrinkled, "...you are already leading." I looked up at him suspiciously. "Did you already know how to ballroom dance?"

He smiled sheepishly, "Heh… guilty?"

"You brat, why did you tell me you didn't?" I laughed, trying to step away from him.

"I said no such thing," his hand shifted from my hip to the small of my back, not letting me escape. To be fair, I didn't try that hard. "You just assumed I didn't know how. And you know what they say when you assume," he teased as he continued to lead me in our little dance.

I scoffed in spite of the upward tug I felt at one side of my mouth. "Where did you even learn to waltz?"

"My lil secret," Lea winked. "But you know the deal. I'd be willing to give it up for one o' yours."

"You want me to give you a secret?" My eyes darted to the left. "I'm not sure I even have anymore…"

He snerked, pulling me ever so slightly closer to him. "Now I know I don't believe that. You must be able to think of at least one."

...actually yes. There was… at least one more I could think of…

That of certain feelings I was having for a certain redhead.

Sensing a small, familiar heat creeping up into my face, I cleared my throat and shook my head, still not meeting his gaze. "No… no I don't think so. Pretty sure I'm all tapped out."

He dipped his head down next to mine and I could feel him smirking against my ear as he whispered, "You wouldn't be lying to me now, would you?"

His warm breath tickled and I had to suppress a shiver. Conceal, don't feel. Don't let him know. I finally looked at him with a small, playful smile that I hoped didn't betray my hammering heart. "Come now… does this look like the face of someone who'd lie to you?"

Lea bit back a tiny, crooked grin as his eyes hooded, his thumb tracing small circles against the fabric of my dress. Then his lips parted, about to speak.

That was when, for the second time that night, a knock came at my door.

That must be Anna. Smile widening as I continued to stare up at Lea, I called out, "Come in."

I heard it open followed by a soft, "Oh!" that caused me to pale and my feet to stumble.

That wasn't the sound of my sister's voice.

My head whipped towards it as I stammered, "M-Mother!" This time when I attempted to break free of Lea's hold, he let me.

She stood there, posture perfect and hands clasped together in front of her. "Sorry, I didn't think you already had company."

"S'okay, I was just leaving," Lea said before pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. "Night," he told me, voice low as his fingers tucked some of my hair behind my ears. Apparently, he couldn't just depart without giving me one final whammy of the warm fuzzies. Jerkface. "Ma'am," he nodded to my mother as he walked past her towards my door, closing it behind him on his way out.

My gaze followed his exit before drifting over to my vanity right beside the door.

More specifically, to the spiked collar still resting on top of it.

Fudge. Had I wondered what my parents' reaction would be if they ever discovered it in here? Yes. Did I particularly need to find out the answer to that little question this very night? Hell no!

Luckily Mother hadn't seemed to notice it on her way in and her back was currently to it as she said, "That young man is… quite the character."

Funny. That's what Father had said. Almost verbatim. I wondered if my parents rehearsed these things.

"He, uh…" I sidled past her, putting myself between her and the choker, blocking her line of sight to it. Then I forced an innocent smile and a weak chuckle, "...he makes me happy."

If she thought my movements strange, she was good at hiding it. "And he seems very fond of you."

"Ah… yes, I suppose so." I casually leaned back against the piece of furniture and slipped a hand behind me, discreetly moving the offending item into one of the vanity's small drawers.

Whew! Mission Hide The Goth Contraband was a success!

The small feeling of victory swiftly waned however and I frowned. "Mother, I…" I began, only to find I had no idea what to say to her.

I hadn't had any idea for years now.

It had not always not always been like this. In fact when I'd been very little, I'd felt like I could share anything and everything with her. She'd been my biggest supporter in all things, especially in my love of the performing arts. As I'd always been such a shy child, she'd gone so far as to even encourage the activity, perhaps in the hopes that it would build my confidence and make me more outgoing.

But as I'd grown older, our relationship had changed. She became more aloof and distant. I suspect she and Father had hoped my interest in theater was just a phase, one I'd grow out of eventually. But when it seemed I wasn't going to - not on my own anyway - she'd started taking a sterner approach with me. That's when she stopped being my friend. That's when it became harder to talk to her. And it'd only gotten harder and harder with time. Things were never quite the same between us after that.

She watched me now, patient for me to continue. Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I finally settled on, "Why are you here?"

"I would think the answer should be obvious." Her small, gentle smile caught me off guard, but not nearly as much as her now stepping forward to take both my hands in hers. "I wanted a little time alone with my daughter. Away from your father and grandfather... just the two of us."

My breath hitched, my chest constricted, and before I knew it I was blurting out, "I auditioned for a musical."

Her head reeled back slightly and I winced.

Welp. So much for not letting that cat out of the bag.

I swear, mouth, I can't take you anywhere.

Waiting with bated breath, I searched her wide-eyed gaze for any clue as to what she might be thinking. Was she angry? Annoyed? Disappointed? I couldn't tell as her face gave away nothing for several long seconds. Finally though, she tipped her head to one side, "...did it go well?"

I blinked, a crease emerging between my eyebrows. "I, uh… yes, I think it did. But they won't announce casting until next week."

"I see. Well," and here she was smiling again as she leaned in closer to whisper, "we can just keep that our little secret, hm?"

...who was this woman and what had she done with Mother?

I stared at her before slowly nodding. It was all I could do. Words abandoned me at the moment. I hadn't been prepared at all for this.

And I was even less prepared for what came next.

Mother's gaze softened as she brought her hand up, cupping her cool fingers to my cheek. "That must have taken a lot of courage. I'm very proud of you."

My throat tightened and I swallowed past the lump I felt forming in it. I blinked away some tears, my voice hoarse as I somehow managed to get out, "Th-thank you… Mother."

Had I entered some sort of Twilight Zone? If so, I never wanted to leave.

She regarded me kindly for a second more before her expression turned to that of concern. "You look tired. Have you been sleeping well?"

Honestly, I hadn't. The last good night's rest I'd had was the unplanned sleepover in Lea's room. Every night since then was one night closer and closer to this weekend and whatever unspeakable horrors awaited me. Every night had been less and less dreams, replaced by more and more tossing and turning. I'd actually spent all of last night wide awake, just staring up at my ceiling until the sun had at last arisen.

So, naturally, my answer to Mother was, "Yes."

Her quiet tsk said she didn't believe me. "Come here," she turned away, walking towards my bed and lowering herself down onto it. I hugged myself, feet rooted to the spot as I stared after her, bewildered. Sitting back against my pillows and tucking in her legs, her hand patted the spot on the mattress beside her, "Cuddle close, scooch in."

Instantly I was transported back to when I was a little girl. Back to the last time I'd heard her say those words to me. My response was automatic and before I'd realized it, I'd already curled into her side and was resting my head against her shoulder.

She started humming a familiar lullaby. One she had used to sing for me all the time when I was small. It was from my favorite musical, the same one that the song I'd sang in the tryouts had been from.

This was nice. It wouldn't put me to sleep, but still, it was... nice. Comforting. Nostalgic. Her hand was lightly stroking my arm, my hair, my cheek. Then she was trailing the tip of her pinky down the bridge of my nose slowly before bringing it back up to do it again. An old trick she'd used to use to get me to pass out. Cute. That may have worked when I was a child, but I was an adult now. There's no way it could still possibly have the same effect on me now, not in a million-

Within minutes I was out like a light.

Author's Note: Ah, it's finally here! The dreaded weekend with (dun dun dun)… The Parents (TM)! Elsa's spent most of the story in Lea's KH universe, now it's his turn to spend a few chapters in her Frozen world xP Let me tell you, when I was writing outline notes for this whole story, I had very little planned for this arc at first. I had a smattering of a few vague ideas, but hardly enough to fill even so much as one chapter with! But thankfully, Frozen 2 was released, coming to my rescue and giving me a whole new host of Frozen characters to include xD Then the ideas started flowing, thank goodness! Soooooo, more F2 characters to be introduced in the chapters to come! Fun Fact: Elsa's dress this chapter (complete with lil necklace) is loosely based on the dress she wears at the beginning of F2 for the Some Things Never Change song, just picture it shorter (cuz apparently I just want to do that to all her dresses) and with a maybe slightly poofier skirt.

Next chapter, what new trial and tribulations does The Weekend (capital T, capital W) hold in store for our couple? Is there something up with Anna or she just being her normal oddball self? Was there a reason behind Mother's unexpected show of affection? Will there be trouble brewing at Gramps' bday shindig? Just who REALLY is the cuter cutie to ever cute: Lea or Elsa's wonky snowman plushie? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

14 notes · View notes

laschatzi · 5 years

Text

Hook’s Smooth

For @thesschesthair, duh.

summary: just an ode to Killian’s body hair, really. And Emma’s obsession with it.

word count: ~1,4k

rating: G and F for furrrrrrrr

also on ff.net and ao3

She loves to run her hands over his hair and play with it, the smooth feeling against her palms. She loves to card her fingers through it and feel its coarseness between them – and then squeeze them together and… tug. Just a little, but enough to make him feel it. He protests every time, especially when she does it to his body hair.

Emma has always been fond of his body hair… even if she refused to admit it at first. Of course there was the fact that she simply denied liking anything at all about Killian Jones; then she had never been attracted by hair on the male body anywhere else than on the head. But truth be told – with him, that just didn’t seem to matter anymore: the generous amount of chest hair he always showed off with his stupid, less-than-half buttoned pirate shirts has always tickled her fancy, against her will and better knowledge.

For a long time, the constantly exposed patch of skin of his chest was the only part of him she saw bare, the rest always being covered by ridiculous amounts of clothing. That fueled her curiosity, and even though she tried very much to focus her mind on more important things – getting Henry back in Neverland, defeating the Wicked Witch, finding a way back to the future – she couldn’t help but wonder how the rest of him might look without all that black leather, and if there would be fuzz on more parts of him.

Luckily, eventually she found out how he looks without clothes on… and she wasn’t disappointed. His body, lean and firm, is a sight to see, he’s fit in a healthy, down to earth way with muscles toned by centuries of hard labor and lightly tanned skin scarred by attackers’ blades and abusers’ whips (it took her a bit of time and effort to find out about the latter).

And he is covered in body hair, all over.

It’s on his forearms, both of them, even if it looks a bit thinner on the left one, where it’s covered and chafed by the leather brace of his hook for most hours of the day. It’s in full bloom on his right forearm and wrist, and even the back of his hand is dusted with it, which she particularly appreciates.

The chest hair, like she suspected, expands over his flat stomach where it eventually runs together and points towards the bellybutton and then lower, narrowing into a neat, velvety treasure trail.

His thighs and lower legs are covered down to the ankles, and his really nice ass cheeks are sprinkled with fuzzy goodness. Emma’s secret favorite though might be the small patch on his lower back, spreading right above his butt crack and stretching across the two symmetric dimples at the base of his spine. It’s also her favorite place to tug, because he complains the most when she does it there.

The first time it happens more or less accidentally, when he wraps his right arm around her chest from behind while she’s on the phone with her mother, and she absentmindedly caresses his forearm, finding his shirt sleeve rolled up to the elbow. The hair is smooth and silky under her fingertips, and she finds herself playing with it and tugging just a little here and there.

The second occasion is less innocent; they’re in the middle of heavily making out while gradually ridding each other of their clothes. His denims are already unbuttoned and unzipped, and as she runs her hands down his back and into his jeans she notices that this is apparently one of those days when he deems underwear as highly overrated. She cups and squeezes his bare cheeks firmly, and as the fuzz on them tickles her palms she pinches little tufts between her thumbs and forefingers and tugs at them, getting a low growl and a thrust of his hips in response, which really isn’t a bad outcome.

From then on, it happens under various circumstances – sometimes it’s teasing and just for fun, sometimes sensual and in the middle of passion, and sometimes just lazy and a very particular type of caress.

When she’s snuggling into Killian’s side, resting her head on his shoulder, her fingers paint lazy patterns onto his chest, slipping in the v of his t-shirt if he’s wearing one (which he does to sleep or relax on their couch) and traveling to wider extent when he isn’t wearing one (which is the case when they’re just calming down in the afterglow of lovemaking). She loves to run her hand down over his chest and his slightly curved stomach and feel the different texture of his hair… it’s wiry and curly on his chest, tickling her palm, whereas it’s smoother and silky on his stomach. She loves to twirl it around her fingers on that spot at the base of his sternum (where it also holds the most enticing smell), just because she can. And she loves to follow its swirls and curves around his navel and down his treasure trail, to stroke her fingertips along it, sometimes until she reaches the wiriest patch of hair on his body.

He has noticed her fondness, of course, and sometimes he’s downright smug about it, just like could be expected from him. Then she tugs just that little bit harder at his butt fuzz when he parades around without even a towel after his shower and she walks past him. Sometimes that ends in a little melee, and that usually ends with her losing her clothes as well… or at least partly.

It’s one of those occasions when they’re cuddled together in bed, breathing calming down again, and she’s running her left index finger in circles through the hair around his bellybutton while he’s just about to drift off to dreamland.

“Killian?”

“Hmmm?”

“You could probably wear a Grinch costume and look good,” she declares out of the blue.

He opens one eye despite his sleepiness. “Without question, love,” comes his answer with slight amusement in his voice.

“Your sense of style is impeccable, and I do love all your modern clothes,” she continues, and now she has his whole attention.

“While I appreciate the sentiment,” he replies slowly, “I do have the feeling there’s a but somewhere in there.”

Emma huffs a little laugh and lifts herself up to rest her chin on his chest to look at him. “You know, sometimes I really miss your old pirate garb,” she tells him.

His raises his eyebrows. “Are you saying I’m not dashing enough in this realm’s clothes?” he asks, feigning bewilderment.

“No, no, don’t worry,” she quickly reassures him, “you’ll always be the most dashing of them all.”

“And you had better not forget that.” His eyes narrow. “What is it then?”

“All that leather…” she begins and then sighs longingly. “It was so hot.” She licks her lips and rakes her fingers through his chest hair. “And those pirate shirts… always half unbuttoned.”

Killian chuckles. “I always knew you were partial to my handsome appearance even when you were pretending you didn’t care for me,” he says nonchalantly, “but finally hearing you concede it…”

“Ugh!” She tugs a little roughly on a tuft below his collarbone, making him hiss. “I should’ve known you were gonna be an ass about it!”

“It’s not your fault, Swan,” he tells her generously and, with a sudden move that has her gasp, rolls them around so that he’s on top of her. “I tend to have that effect on people.”

Two days later, when she walks over the gangplank to board the Jolly Roger, because she got a call from Killian to join him on the ship for a surprise lunch, she doesn’t see him on deck and frowns. A little churn in her stomach reminds her that this is Storybrooke, after all, and just because they didn’t have to deal with a villain in a bit, that doesn’t mean it’s out of the question for ever. Her eyes scan the ship, but it seems empty.

“Killian?” she calls tentatively and whirls around when she hears heavy footsteps behind her.

And there he is, stepping down the stairs from the bridge in those old, pointed boots she hasn’t seen on him in a long time. Her eyes wander up from his feet along his lean, leather-clad legs, the shiny vest with the ornate silver clasps, and the fuzzy goodness that was his exposed chest, only loosely framed by his carelessly buttoned black linen shirt. Subconsciously, she licks her lips.

He hooks his ringed thumb into his belt with the heavy silver buckle; the movement has the long folds of his long-missed leather coat swing around his legs. His mouth curves into a grin.

“Might you be looking for me, lass?”

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cs #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #my ff #hook's smooth #cs ficlet

143 notes · View notes

infiniteshawn · 6 years

Text

Puppy Love | Part 5

2.6k of a bit of angst but lots of fluff

You sat in front of your computer screen, learning everything you possibly could to make sure Shawn was suitable for the Cameron House. Letting him down again would certainly destroy every chance of getting to know him at this point, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that.

You read the description on their website, discovering that they were in search of a younger artist who performed predominantly acoustic covers. Testing your luck, you pulled up YouTube in a new tab and searched Shawn’s name.

A ton of results popped up in no time, some having already reached thousands of views. Your heart broke a little, remembering that you were the reason he couldn’t do this anymore.

Your shaky hands clicked on the first result, a video taken just sixth months ago at the Horseshoe.

Your screen went dark, gradually illuminating as a stage lit up. Shawn stood in the middle with an acoustic guitar in front of a few other band members. There was a pianist, a drummer, and a guy with a bass guitar. You watched as Shawn stepped up to the microphone stand, exhaling softly as the bass guitar began with a little riff. Before you knew it, the piano had joined in and Shawn was bopping his head a little, singing the opening lyrics to Amy Winehouse’s version of “Valerie.”

It soon became a little more lively and upbeat that the original, and Shawn’s hips began to sway with the music. A smile uncontrollably crept up on your face as you watched his fingers strum the guitar, a rosy hue on his cheeks as he sang his heart out. The drunken crowd was cheering him on as he sang over their chants, a desperate rasp finding his voice and carrying throughout the chorus. Your head bopped along as your eyes remained fixated on the screen, mesmerized by his on-stage energy. He was so good.

The white lights on him grew a little dim and his hips slowed as song came to an end. As the pianist played the final few notes, Shawn darted to the side of the stage, setting his guitar down and returning to his spot. The lights slowly transitioned into a deep red, completely changing the atmosphere as he placed two large hands on the microphone that was still resting on the stand. You wondered what he would do next, furrowing your brow as you could see the video was only half-over. He stood before the crowd, head hanging low as the piano continued its interlude, soon transitioning into the opening notes of “Back to Black.”

Your stomach dipped as a smile erupted on Shawn’s face, looking up at the crowd as he began singing in a lower voice than before. You could feel your mood changing, quickly changing from a happy excitement to a hungry, lustful passion. Your eyes raked over his body as he moved against the microphone stand, slowly swaying along to the sensual melody.

He wore skinny jeans and boots as usual, accompanied by a button-up that hung open at the top. Now without the guitar, you could see his thin middle and broad chest, shirt tight over his bulging arms with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands gripped the microphone for dear life, causing the veins in his forearms to protrude and ultimately fuck you the hell up.

His jaw was defined in the dim crimson light and you could just make out the sweat dripping down his temples, thanking your lucky stars for the highly defined quality of the video. His cheeks were even redder than before, eyes shut tightly as he hit every note perfectly. The song was sultry and he was owning it, and you were absolutely fucked for him. How the hell was this your first time seeing him perform?

His hips loosened up a bit as the song neared its bridge, and you’d never wanted to become a microphone stand more in your entire life. His rendition was beautiful and his movements fit perfectly, causing a heat to shamelessly grow between your thighs as your lustful eyes focused on the vein in his neck. Before you knew it, the song was ending and he muttered a low “thank you” into the microphone, stepping off the stage as the video stopped. This boy had you shook.

Navigating back to the Cameron House’s website, you concluded that he was definitely suitable to perform there. You scrolled to their “Contact Us” section, emailing them a link of the video you’d just watched and giving them Shawn’s information. Satisfied with yourself, you finally felt as if everything was going to be okay, and it was probably safe to give him a call.

It rang a few times, a nervous feeling growing in your stomach as you wondered if he was asleep, ignoring it, or debating picking it up. Geoff had said he was really into you, which was either a lie, or Shawn was fighting a mental battle with himself over his pride.

“Hi, you’ve reached Shawn. Sorry I missed your call, please leave a message!” played in your ear as you swooned over the sound of his voice, unsure of what on earth you were going to say. Beep.

“Uh, hi, it’s me. Um, I know you deleted my number and you’re probably still mad, but uh, I need to talk to you. So, um, if you could call me back, that’d be great. Sorry, again, for everything,” you said a bit shakily, hanging up and tossing your phone down on your bed as soon as you were finished. Your fingers ran through your hair as your mind ran wild, desperate to fix what you had with Shawn.

You got up and ready a little later than usual, thankful to have Fridays off. Your hair draped over your shoulders in loose waves as you applied a little more makeup than usual, hoping to remind him of how much he liked you. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Your phone buzzed as an unknown number lit up your screen.

Hey, it’s Geoff. Apartment 819, remember? I’m not gonna be there but I told him I was coming over so he’d be awake and stuff. Good luck, kid.

You smiled, instantly typing a response.

Got it! Heading over soon, I’ll keep you posted.

You shovelled some breakfast into your mouth and took Chloe around the block, bringing her back home before setting out toward to Shawn’s building.

The sun warmed your face as the air chilled the tip of your nose, putting you in a good mood as you walked down the street. It was midday, so people were out and about, sending you smiles and waves as you passed them on the sidewalk. You took your sunglasses off and folded them up as you stepped into the vestibule of his building, thankfully slipping in behind someone else who’d been buzzed up.

The lobby was cute and modern, tempting you to sit down and collect your thoughts before facing Shawn. You decided against it, heart beating heavily in your chest as you stepped into the elevator and selected the button for the eighth floor. The mirrored walls allowed you to run a few fingers through your hair as you gave yourself a little nod of approval in an attempt to boost your own confidence.

Its doors slid open and you stepped out into the hall, turning left to go eastward. You felt your breath getting a little shaky as you straightened out your jacket, walking by a few front doors until you stumbled upon the one that read 819. Inhaling sharply, you decided to just go for it, firmly knocking on the door with your knuckle three times.

“Come in!” a voice called, making things a little better for you because he couldn’t really turn you away.

You slowly pushed the door open, calling out “Shawn?” to warn him that it was actually you entering his house, completely uninvited.

You slowly poked your head around the large door, stepping inside to see an empty kitchen and living room. His puppy came racing toward you, jumping against your knees as you leaned down to give her a little scratch. You froze in place as you heard heavy footsteps coming from one of the rooms, only to be greeted by a shirtless, tired-looking Shawn with grey sweats hanging low on his hips. You couldn’t help but eye his body, taking note that he was totally fucking ripped. The sweats hugged him in all the right places, showing the slightest bit of bulge and revealing the “v” of his lower abdomen.

“Oh, shit, I thought you were Geoff,” he said in a shocked tone, crossing his arms as he stood at the opposite end of the kitchen island.

“No, uh, not Geoff,” you spoke, unable to meet his eyes as you looked out the large living room window. “I need to talk to you,” you said a little desperately, eyes finding his in the bright kitchen. You stared into his honey orbs for a few seconds too long, noticing how hurt they looked at the sight of you. His lips were slightly parted, forming a bit of a frown as he reverted his gaze.

“I got your message,” he said sternly, standing up a little taller. “I didn’t call you back.” Your heart broke a little as your face fell.

“Shawn, just hear me out,” you pleaded, maneuvering yourself around the angled counter and stepping in his direction. “I realize you’re not at the Horseshoe anymore, but there’s an opening at the Cameron House and I think you’d be perfect.”

His chest fell as he exhaled, pondering what you’d said. His eyes found yours again as he uncrossed his arms and spoke flatly, “I don’t want it.” You took another step in his direction, now only a few feet away from him.

“Shawn, ple-“ you started, but he cut you off.

“No, I don’t want it. How can I even know if you’re being serious? How do I know your boyfriend didn’t send you over here to dangle it in my face?” he said angrily, shoving his massive hands in his pockets.

“Shawn, no,” you pleaded, shaking your head as he took a step away from you.

“You don’t understand, I was so close,” he spoke firmly, looking away and blinking a few times. He took a moment to collect himself, talking with his hands as he spat, “I was close to being fucking signed, and now I have to start over again. It took me so long to get that position. And you knew! You knew and you didn’t tell me. I liked you so much,” he shook his head, running a hand through his hair. Your heart fell again, noticing that he’d said liked rather than like.

“Shawn, he’s not my boyfriend, we broke up ages ago. And I realize you lost it and I’m trying to fix it, I don’t know what to d-“ you spoke, but he was trying to butt in. “No, let me finish,” you said firmly, causing him to fall silent and re-cross his arms. “I realize that I fucked up and I’ve already apologized so many times, I even researched you last night to make sure this new gig was suitable because I know I wouldn’t be able to handle letting you down again,” you felt a lump forming in your throat, and you knew you only had a few more seconds until the tears would spill over. “And to think, t-to think I’d ever want that asshole more than I want you,” you paused, eyes pooling with water as tears began rolling down your cheeks, “is just fucking rude, and you’re so wrong,” you tried to keep going but were overcome with emotion, frustration taking over as he wasn’t hearing what you were saying. “I just, I don’t know what more you could possibly wan’t from me!” you yelled, shoulders slouching a bit as the sobs began to escape your lips. Before you could process what was going on, Shawn had closed the space between you and pulled you into his arms. Your face was pressed against his bare chest, tears wetting his skin as he hushed you and rubbed your back with his strong hands.

“Shhh, it’s okay, honey I’m overreacting,” he spoke softly as you tried to compose yourself, the heat from his body making you even warmer, “I’m so sorry,” he said, voice laced with realization.

"I don’t know what you want from me, Shawn,” you said quietly, tears continuing to fall as you felt helpless.

His strong hands moved from your back to your shoulders, slowly pulling your face from his chest as he cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. His features were much softer than before, graced by a little half-smile, glossy eyes, and a loose curl hanging on his forehead.

“I only want you,” he whispered softly, pulling you closer and planting the softest kiss on your lips. His mouth was warm and smooth on yours, innocently kissing you as you melted in his arms. Your hands found his abdomen, pressing against his warm middle as he pulled away from your face. Your eyes fluttered open to be met by his soft chestnut gaze staring back at you.

“But you’re mad at me,” you whispered, inches from his face.

“No, I’m not. Baby, it doesn’t matter anymore,” he said quietly, “I like you so much.”

This time it was you who leaned forward, pulling him in for a kiss by the back of his neck. His hungry mouth moulded to yours as you pressed your body against his, parting your lips to welcome his hot tongue. His hands moved from your cheeks into your hair, attempting to pull you impossibly closer as he inhaled through his nose, deepening the kiss and releasing a soft moan.

You knew it was time to stop, pushing off his chest and separating yourself from his wet lips. He broke into a smile, kissing your forehead and stepping away.

“I should go,” you said softly, reaching for his hand one last time. “You’ll look into it, though?”

He nodded with a smile, a soft “yes,” escaping his bright pink lips. You gave a little nod of approval and turned on your heel, looking back at his giddy expression before disappearing out into the hallway.

Breaking into a smile, you continued toward the elevator and stepped inside, more-than-satisfied with how things went. As the doors began to close, you jumped at the sight of a large, tattooed hand forcing them open again.

Shawn popped around the corner with a lazy smile, a little shaken from running after you.

“Will you go on a date with me?” he asked quickly, eyes wild with excitement. “Tomorrow, please?” he pressed, an expectant look present in his eyes.

You laughed, stepping closer to his still-shirtless self, “Of course, Shawn.”

His smile grew as he leaned in once more, planting a soft kiss on your lips. You could feel him fighting a grin as his mouth pressed against yours, soon being pulled away as he stepped out of the elevator entrance. The doors began closing as a deep blush erupted in your cheeks.

“I’ll call you!” he yelled as the doors were almost shut, only allowing you to see one of his eyes and a thin portion of his body, causing you to laugh as the elevator descended.

Relief washed over you as you left his building, soon realizing he was playing no games as your phone lit up with an incoming call from Shawn.

a big thank-you to @achinglyshawn for helping me plan this one out! go show her some love!

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #imagine shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smile #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes series

728 notes · View notes

dvsvsgrr · 3 years

Text

ability to perform activities of daily living and other musculoskeletal wasting or muscle loss conditions

He say, ‘Yes—but maybe I shan’t find any I like so well as you.’ Den I say maybe he nike air max 102 essential white wouldn’t like my ways, ‘cause I’se an ole woman, and I hab four children by my first husband; and anybody marry me, must be jest kind to dem children as dey was to me, else I couldn’t lub him. Remember that modern SoCs can power gate quite a bit of the logic on the chip during video playback.. Here maybe we can say, if one works hard, and Mens JORDAN Hoodie shows great persistence, then success will occur to him or her.. Ser Barristan was still wrestling with that suspicion when he heard the sound of heavy boots ascending the steep stone steps at the back of the hall. And let me beg of you, before I proceed further, to construe nothing I shall say as being disrespectful to this assembly. He replied, with perfect frankness and ease, ‘The gang is not large enough for the estate.’ In other words, they were not equal to the work of the plantation, and yet were made to do it, though with the certainty of abridging life.. leon papucs győr An interesting point to be made is that on the surface folie samsung j6 2018 pt tot telegonil these results may seem like what we got from last year's iPhone 6s. According to Thirsty Camel pollsters it's 5pm; that's when we can all down tools and raise glasses. Return on invested capital (ROIC) is used by Air haibike e mtb 2020 Canada to assess the efficiency with which it allocates its capital to generate returns. Bohm wrote "Causality and Chance in Modern Physics" and "Wholeness and Order: Cosmos and Consciousness.". Eat sleep. Entered into a collaboration to discover and develop selective androgen receptor modulators, or SARMs, a new class of drugs with the potential to treat chronic sarcopenia, which is the loss of skeletal muscle mass resulting in reduced physical strength and ability to perform activities of daily living and other musculoskeletal wasting or muscle loss conditions, including muscle loss in patients catalog cercei aur turcia with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. This is a 1st time offer and provides the home owner with real savings.. Because the WHIMS followed its study participants very closely, we were able to gather detailed information on other factors that may affect an individual's risk for dementia, such as smoking, exercise, body mass index, hormone therapy and other clinical risk factors like diabetes and heart disease. It felt more positive and more exciting and I think it opened up more mochila apex puma 35 l puma story opportunity for us to say: Yes, this is happening, game on. These days he can be seen playing ex CIA agent "Sam" on USA Network's "Burn Notice," but Campbell still gets his kicks as a B movie actor, appearing in seemingly every made for TV, low budget movie SyFy creates. The left side of my left shoe is held together with dental floss, haphazardly stitched to keep my foot from falling out. After exchanging a few words in what sounds like Russian, the girls fight all the goons as Chuck locks himself in an office with the diamond.. The Cooler Master Seidon 120V All In One CPU Water Cooler is $39.99 shipped after rebate, so you can actually get a water cooler from Cooler Master for less than this air cooler. Thursdays, Grace Lutheran, 1812 N Highland Ave., Clearwater. The Cardinals were going to play Rice on Saturday, December 17 and he was focused on preparing his team for the game by watching a lot of film and conducting disco duro externo pita practice later in the day. Eng says their kimono long femme grande taille reason is pest control. Noticeably absent from the convention were moderate Republicans. In reading over some two hundred Southern newspapers this fall, the author has been struck with the very graphic and circumstantial pictures, which occur in all of them, 176describing fugitive slaves. A different kind of flour that these biciclete rusesti vechi recipes call for is usually rice flour. The question was asked whether anyone used to come to see him, but no one could give a satisfactory answer about this. When Maelys the Monstrous died upon the Stepstones, it was the end of the male line of House Blackfyre.” The cheesemonger smiled through his forked beard. The sophomore guard went scoreless on six shots and committed five turnovers.. The biggest saviour of this match was the weather, but still a great effort by the lower order batsmen. This fancy pink townhouse is sure to be on any young girl's Christmas or birthday wish list. By then all of Castle Black had come outside to watch. The broad wooden span of the bridge had rotted through, but some of the lamps that lined the way were still aglow. There actually are no doors. If your monitor can handle a 120Hz refresh rate, for example, that means V Sync will attempt to hold to 60 FPS. Ralston health clubs. Brinkley was a popular who attracted both publicity and controversy. I want to close in on the grove from three sides. 5) and Claremont Mudd Scripps (Nov. It cannot be unknown to you that the question of slavery in the United States, by the constitutional compact which binds us together as a nation, is left to be regulated by the several state legislatures themselves; and thereby is put beyond the control of the general government, as well as that of all ecclesiastical bodies; it being manifest that in the slave-holding states themselves the entire responsibility of its existence, or non-existence, rests with those state legislatures. East of the road lay a bleak and barren shore and a cold salt sea, to the west the swamps and bogs of the Neck, infested with serpents, lizard lions, and bog devils with their poisoned arrows... ReviveX water repellents are designed for breathable waterproof clothing, such as Gore Tex. But afterwards I detected in her every day something new of which I had known nothing, as though it had been intentionally concealed, as though the girl were hiding herself from me — and what a joy there was in this discovery.. I will give him a nice set of horns for his wedding gift. Regular athletic shoes utilizing biomechanical evaluation equipment including digital filming and pressure mats. A Hamilton resident who suffered an injury in this fashion set out to create a way to alert users when their shoes were wearing down.. During a recent phone interview, the Blue Jays front office admitted they were not aware of the trend but did not sound displeased. You must make it all clear to me, for about many of the chief points I can judge only by guesswork from what Alyosha tells me. We had the wiring mostly completed, but still had not applied power to the transmitter. Nearby personal economic provides. Here I was perplexed. The former was told that a price had been set on his head in Missouri,—a fashionable mode of meeting argument in the pro-slavery parts of this country. At Funky Monkey Toys, owner Tom Jones said he got a phone call about the fidget spinners in April. Weather Alerts Weather Apps Health Detail Mosquito Report Location Search Local Florida News Georgia News On Your Side Strange News Military News Health News More.

0 notes

somethinglacking · 6 years

Text

Cruel Angel’s Thesis Chapter 13

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: Mystic Messenger (Video Game) Relationship:707 | Luciel Choi/Main Character Characters:707 | Luciel Choi, V | Jihyun Kim Mary, Vanderwood 3rd, Jumin Han, Zen | Hyun Ryu, Yoosung Kim, Jaehee Kang, Main Character, Rika, Saeran ChoiUnknown | Ray

Nari smiled at the people checking her passport, the one Saeyoung had given her. She never was a convincing liar, heck even Saeyoung call her out one night, telling her that ‘even Yoosung had a better poker than her. At the time she laughed it off, now, oh now she wished she had that poker face to help her. She had made it through security in Korea, but nowhere in the states, she wasn’t sure she was going to make it. And after her flight she was worn, and stiff. The security guard stamped the little book and nodded her forward. With a huge breath of relief, she moved on to find her luggage.

Nari made a quick stop to the restroom, she took out her toiletries trying to make herself look more presentable after such a long flight. She brushed her hair out, before gathering it into a hair elastic, securing it to the back of her head. She then turned on the water washing her face. She smiled drying herself as she felt more refreshed and awake.

A little while later Nari looked around the airport for a familiar brown-haired man, with a pissy expression. So far she hadn’t even caught a glimpse of anyone remotely resembling him. She contemplated calling Saeyoung, but when she googled the timezone difference she realized he's already been on his own plane coming to her. Nari bit her lip, her phone had been jammed by Sayoung so it could not be traced or called. The only line open to it was the one to his very own phone. All in all, making it worthless at the moment. Now she was in a country and alone standing in the middle of an airport looking around.

With a heavy sigh, Nari gathered her luggage and started toward the front of the building. She was startled when someone tugged at her suitcase she was dragging behind her. “excuse me!” She snapped looking at the other person and her eyes went wide with surprise.

“Sorry figured you'd like some help, jeez.” Vanderwood snapped back crossing his arms.

“Don't just sneak up on a girl!” She scolded and he huffed slightly.

“I thought you saw me.” He explained.”You're not going to last long if you aren't more cautious of your surroundings.”

Then it hit her like a brick. Vanderwood had been testing her and probably hidden on purpose. She sighed closing her eyes for a moment before looking back up at the older man. “I failed.” She admitted and he smirked.

“It wasn’t that surprising that you did.” He said smugly and she huffed grabbing her suitcase and began toward the exit. Vanderwood to himself, but allowed her to throw her tantrum, and followed a few steps behind.

The drive was long, and silent except for some American radio station playing the ‘latest pop hits’ that had Nari internally groaning. She understood why Saeyoung had her come before him, but leaving her alone with agent Vanderwood was a far cry in the terms conversationalist that her loud, and the usually rowdy boyfriend was. If she was being completely honest with herself, she couldn’t remember the last time she had been left in a state of silence for so long. Without even knowing each other for very long, her boyfriend's loud personality and presence was something she was now accustomed to. Plus if she was looking for conversion, and Saeyoung was unavailable shed usually boot up the RFA app and chat with the others.

“Do I dare ask how much farther we have left to go?” She asked wincing at the sound of her voice in the quiet car.

“An hour.” was the older agents curt reply.

“Can I at least turn up the radio?” Nari asked and the agent looked sideways at her turning up the damn radio for her. Nari snorted at his expression as she turned back to look out the window.

Later that day they finally made it up to Saeyoung’s share real estate with Vanderwood. Nari must say she was impressed with the rather small, but still bigger than the bunker, mountainside two-story modern style house. It was indeed quite and rather remote if the five-hour drive from the airport was any indication. She realized this is a place that the agents probably used while on a mission here in America. That thought sent her lips curling downwards as she walked towards the front door.

From basically living at Saeyoung’s, bunker the open concept with the wall long windows allowing natural light to shine in, was a little bit of a shock. She didn’t really know what she was expecting from her boyfriend’s mountain home, but in her minds, it was more of a cave, much as the bunker was. Nari moved her eyes to the first room she met, it was well furnished for a place rarely used. The kitchen was open with an island separating it from the living room, and had bar stools set up at it. The living room had a modern looking fireplace, and one wall lined with a TV Nari seat her bags at the door walking more into the house eyeing the glass staircase leading to an overlook that has a couple doors.

“Both bedrooms has its own bathroom, Zero Seven’s room is here on the second floor threw that door.” Vanderwood pointed to a door. “ My room is the one down here, there is a bathroom we don’t really touch if you want your own.” He continued and Nari hummed taking it all in. “It’s small but for the price and location it was ideal.”

“Three bathrooms, and two bedrooms…. That’s rather odd.” Nari commented checking out the already stocked cupboards in the kitchen.

“It’s four bedrooms. Three bedrooms are upstairs, but one we use two to keep necessary equipment for Zero Seven, and the other we keep our weapons.” Vanderwood explained. Nari froze at the mention of weapons.

“I see…” She responded and continued with her exploration as if hearing that they had weapons, was the most normal thing. She could tell Vanderwood was analyzing her as he dropped such information on her, seeing if she would show any signs of weakness. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she wandered up the stairs.

Nari came first to a door that overlooked the living room. She opened the door to find a king size bed all made up nice, in the middle of a spacious room, with a door off to the left, clearly the bathroom. He eyes felt heavy just looking at the comfortable bed, clearly welcoming her. She smiled sleepily walking over to it. Jet lag was real, and it hit like a wall of bricks, as she kicked off her shoes sitting on the edge of the bed. She mummed laying back into the plush pillows and drifted off into a blissful sleep.

Seven looked at the familiar house, there was the soft glow of lights on behind the curtains on the first floor. He let out a sad sigh, knowing about his arrival had actually meant. Now Nari would start her training, and he would be working to make sure the three of them would be making it out of this thing alive.With a heavy heart, he took a deep breath and made his way toward the front door. He dropped one of his bags, and tested the door knock, and sighed in relief when it was locked. Not that he doubted Vanderwood, but he was glad to see they were taking precautions. He dug into his bag looking for his own key when he heard the door click and watched it open to reveal a very tired looking Vanderwood.

“It’s about damn time.” Vanderwood hissed looking the other agent up and down. Seven righted himself as he flashed a cheeky grin at the older male.

“Madam, did you miss me?” Seven teased, and the older male eyed him as he gathered his things walking to the house scanning the interior. He set his bags by the door, eyeing the place in search of her.

“Nari is upstairs asleep,” Vanderwood informed him stepping around the clutter of bags, eyeing them in slight disgust.

“Oh good. I imagine she is jet-lagged.” Seven mused turning toward the kitchen. “Aw, madam you even stocked us with Ph.D. pepper for me.” Seven sang as if it was the most touching gesture in the world. Vanderwood cringed looking at the redhead as he spread his arms wide walking toward the older agent.

“Touch me and I’ll tease you,” Vanderwood warned shooting a glare at the other man. Seven grinned lowering his arms.

“Any word from the boss?” Seven than asked grabbing on the sweet soda’s and cracked it open. Vanderwood watched as the hacker took a long drink from the can before speaking.

“They’ve been quiet… You are finishing your jobs one time, and the boss is pleased with the development.” Vanderwood explained walking toward his own room, as Seven nodded looking up the stairs. “Get some rest, Zero Seven.” Vanderwood order opening his bedroom door, and closed it behind himself. Seven stood there for a few more moments contemplating into his Ph.D. pepper.He finished his fizzy drink and set the can on the counter. With a heavy sigh, he made his way over to his bags, and gather them and made his way up the stairs.

Saeyoung quietly opened his bedroom door and smiled looking at the girl sprawled out on his bed. His love and his life looked so peaceful hopefully dreaming sweet dreams. She looked at her pile of bags and sighed, moving to places his beside hers. He then opened his book bag, grabbing a fresh pair of clothes and bathroom supplies before making his way into his now shared bathroom to quickly wash off before planting himself in front of his computer.

Nari woke and jolted upward, and a sigh left her lips as she looked around the unfamiliar room she was in. Daylight streamed in through the half-closed curtains of the window. Nari blinked letting her eyes adjust before she looked around the room. Nari eyed the new pile of bags accompanying her and she threw her legs over the side of the bed. She walked over to the trademark red carrier bags that belonged her boyfriend and smiled. He had finally arrived, and she felt a sense of ease wash over her. She looked to the book bag that was rooted through already and smiled noticing one of his t-shirts peaking out. Nari grabbed it along with some of her own pants, a bag of toiletries and made her way toward the en-suite bathroom.

Nari brushed out her hair and started the shower testing the temperature. When it felt ready she stripped out of her clothes and stepped under the spray of the water. She let out a sigh as the water soothed her strained muscles and she began to let it wash away all the stress of the last few days. They were here, together finally, and everything went according to plan. She didn’t have to worry any longer. She lathered her hair in her favorite sweet-scented shampoo, taking the time to thoroughly massage her scalp.

Once she rinsed off and stepped out of the shower she toweled herself off gently and proceeded to get dressed. She took a moment to inhale the scent of her boyfriends as she proceeded to put on his shirt. She smirked to herself looking at how baggy it was on her figure. She tugged on her jeans and exited the bathroom.

“Uh… Hey, …are you wearing my shirt?” Her boyfriend asked looking her up and down. Nari smiled running at him and wrapped her arm securely around his middle and burying her face in his chest. She felt the small quack in him as he wrapped his arms around her holding her close.

“I never want to be separated from you again,” Nari whispered rubbing her face on his chest taking in his comforting smell. Saeyoung chuckled lightly resting his head on hers while rubbing comforting circles on her back.

“I love you.” He whispered sounding broken and defeated. Nari pulled back from him to see him biting back tears. Her eyes watched his as she reached up to caress his face. She closed the distance between their lips, placing sweet lingering kisses. She didn’t know what was wrong, but she wanted to take his pain away, she always wanted to take his pain away.He hummed returning her affections.

“I love you too, Saeyoung,” Nari assured him lips still lightly brushing his. His hands moved from her waist and grabbed her hips pulling her closer to him as he licked at her bottom lip. Nari hummed tangling her hands in his hair gladly letting him deepen and lead the kiss. She arched herself into his enjoying the sweet taste of his favorite combination on his tongue.Saeyoung lightly rolled his hips into her as a knock at the door interrupted them.Still intertwined with one another they broke the kiss and both huffed an annoyed sigh.

“Who is it~” Saeyoung sang at the door, and the man on the sigh groaned at his stupidity

“You know who it is.” He grunted out and Nari buried her face into Saeyoung. “Look I know Nari is in there with you, I expect her downstairs in ten.” Was all he said before the listened to the man retreat down the stairs.

“Tsk.” Saeyoung released the woman currently latched onto him. “You’re probably still tired from the jet lag, look if you’re not up to begin your training-”

“Oh, we already started.” Nari cut him off releasing her own hold stepping away from him. “And I failed miserably.” She sighed offering a soft smile to her boyfriend.

“What do you mean you’ve already started?” Saeyoung asked with worry clear in his voice.

“Nothing big, just that he was testing my ability to take in my surroundings at the airport,” Nari assured her boyfriend hauling the shirt over her head, grabbing a sports bra from her bag.

“Excuse me.” Was all Saeyoung said before leaving their room and shut the door behind himself a little harder than necessary. Nari flinched slightly looking where her boyfriend stood just a moment ago. She sighed grabbing his shirt and reapplying it to her body, tying it tight around her middle, before she changed into some yoga pants. She had a sneaking supposition that Vanderwood wished to begin training her right away. She grabbed a pair of sneakers and made her way out of the room. She raised an eyebrow listening to the men down stair speak in harsh hushed tones.

“What do you mean you didn’t go right to her at the airport?” Saeyoung hissed.

“I was seeing how observant she was,” Vanderwood explained sounding bored with Saeyoung’s tantrum.

“What if something happened to her?” Saeyoung accused and the other man sighed loudly.

“I was watching her, nothing was going to happen,” Vanderwood assured him, looking up toward the top of the stairs as Nari was standing on the overlook.

“Nari, I mean it, if this gets to be too much for you…” Saeyoung started and Vanderwood snorted.

“She knows what she is getting herself into.” Vanderwood snapped tiredly of the conversion. Nari sighed making her way down the stairs and walked toward the two men in the kitchen.

“Let’s do this!” She smiled sitting on a bar stool to put on her sneakers. Saeyoung sighed moving toward her.

“Don’t overwork yourself.” Saeyoung pleaded and Nari shot him a warm smile.

“The reason we are here is so you both can train me, right?” Nari assured him and Vanderwood sighed again.

“You can’t baby her, if we want to get her to our level we’ll have to train her like an agent,” Vanderwood explained and Saeyoung nodded.

“Give me your worse boys!” Nari chimed pulling her hair up to secure it behind her head, as both men stopped to stare at her. She blinked a few times before blushing. “My god! BOYS HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER!” She yelled standing up and making her way outside.

“Your ass looks great!” Luciel called after her, and she flipped him off opening the door and closing it behind her.

“Could you both not be gross.” Vanderwood sighed pinching the bridge of his nose following after the girl.

“Negative!” Seven called after him grabbing a soda from the fridge, before following his companions outside.

Nari has showered for a second time that day after the intense work out the agents had her undergo. She smiled to herself remember Vanderwood praising her stamina and the look of surprise when Saeyoung let it slip that she use to be a dancer whilst in med school. But now her body felt spent, and her joints ached. She was dressed in a loose pair of shorts, and one of her own t-shirts. She stretched slightly looking around the bedroom, and let out a sigh exiting the room.

Nari looked into the cluttered computer room, looking into the faint glow of the monitors. She sighed, making her way in toward her boyfriend was set up typing like mad. He hadn’t rested since they arrived and she was worried. She could hear the blasting music coming from his headphones, as he bobbed his head to beat. He was way too engrossed in whatever he was working on. She spied the growing pile of Ph. D pepper, and a huge box of honey buddha chips in the corner. She sighed picking up a few stray empty bags haphazardly tossed behind that redheaded man. With an arm full she left the room quickly to properly dispose of the garbage despite her worn out protesting muscles.

“You shouldn’t be cleaning up after him,” Vanderwood commented sitting on the couch reading something while the TV was on a random English news station.

“I don’t mind, really. I just want to be useful.” Nari assured the older agent as she tossed the trash, and started to make her way back up the stairs.

“I’ll never understand how he managed to land a catch like you.” Vanderwood mused offering her a small smile before returning to his book. Nari smiled at the agent for a moment more, before continuing her journey up the stairs.

Naru re-entered the room her boyfriend had himself cooped up too. She smiled fondly listening to him sing to himself softly as he typed on his computer. She closed her eyes taking in his voice, it was her favorite sound in the world. She sighed shutting the door before walking further into the room, and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, startling him. He reacted up removing his headphones and turning in his chair causing Nari to release her hold on him.

“Hey-” He said softly looking at the tired woman standing in front of him, wrapping his arms around her middle pulling her forward into him. She smiled humming running fingers through his messy locks.

“Hey-” She whispered back as he snuggled his head into her chest, taking a deep breath. “You should get some rest.”

“I can’t relax.” He told her looking up into her liquid honey eyes. She smiled down at him running her fingers along his cheekbone.

“Hmmm… Anything I can do to help?” She said and he chuckled shaking his head.

“Not really, I’ll sleep when my brain doesn’t have enough power to keep me awake anymore.” He explained pressing kisses along her collarbone before releasing his hold turning back to the computer as it dinged. Nari internally sighed as his fingers went back to work at his keyboard. She stepped forward wrapping her arms around his shoulders again and buried her face in his hair. He hummed softly as she placed loving kisses to his crown, and continued typing away at the keyboard.

“Are you doing a new job for the agency?” Nari than inquired and he grunted a positive shifting himself in his seat rubbing at his tired eyes under his glasses. Nari sighed moving her fingers from his shoulder to his temples and started rubbing slow circles, he sighed softly.

“That feels amazing.”He cooed kissing her wrist for a moment before turning his attention back to the screen before him.

Nari kept massaging his temples in hopes it would relax him enough to go to bed, but it seemed to be encouraging him to continue his work tenfold. Nari bit her lip giving her redheaded nerd an unamused look he couldn’t see deciding on a new approach. She leaned in and nibbled at his earlobe causing all the air in his lungs to hiss out, and his fingers stopped moving. Nari smirked licking up the shell of his ear before planting messy kisses down the side of his neck causing him to let out a throaty noise.

“Nari-” He started as she bit down lightly at his pulse. She swung the chair around and captured his lips under hers, clearly downplaying games. His breathing was already getting labored as she made her way into his lap.Saeyoung hummed running him down her figure thrusting his tongue impatiently into her mouth. Nari moaned softly wrapping her tongue around his as his hands found her ass, pulling her even closer. Nari messed his hair with her fingers as she devoured his mouth with her own. Eventually, they had to part for air, their chest meeting each other as they panting and stared at each other daze overwhelmed by the passion that had just overtaken them. Their breath mingled as they looked at each other with half-lidded eyes. Nari rubbed her nose on his in small loving circles before pressing a kiss to his cheek. And then another, followed by another as she worked herself down, sliding herself off his lap.

Nari made herself comfortable kneeling in front of him on the floor, glancing to side feeling flush as she did so. She took less than a moment to compose herself before raising her eyes to meet with his. She felt herself throb between her legs at the raw desire this man held for her. She moved her tiny finger toward his belt, but he grabbed her holding them back. His eyes were still dark with lust as her surprised eyes met his,

“You don’t have to do this.” He told her voice thick, and tone low.

“Let me make you feel good Saeyoung,” She whispered sitting up enough to allow his lips to find hers.”Be selfish with me.” She whispered on his lips.

Nari tailed her finger along his erection finding the buckle of his belt. He let out a nervous sigh allowing her to continue to undo it. She bit at his lower lips releasing a breathless sigh as one of his hand found her breast, toying with it within her bra trying to find- “Oooh-” She gasped and he smirked pinching at the peak. Nari kissed his neck as working at the button to his jeans, while his other hand tailed her shirt up. Nari released another coo as she makes it possible for him to remove the fabric from her body. He licked his lips taking in her body as he felt his jeans get looser. She cast him a seductive smirk sitting back from him looping her finger into the fabric giving a slight tug. Saeyoung lifted his hips allowing her to relieve his throbbing cock of the confines, and he released a sigh looking down at her.

Nari smiled up at him licking her hand, and his lips pulled back at the sight. She brought her now moisten hand to his cock and covered its base to tip with her spit. Saeyoung clutched his teeth as he waited his love’s beautifully trained hand work his member.Nari shifted to make herself more comfortable, and get at a better angle before pausing her motions for a moment to reach behind herself and release the clasp of her bra. She ran the straps down her arms and flung the restrictive fabric from her body. Luciel growled looking at her swollen nipples, as she took hold of his member once more.

Saeyoung forgot how to breathe as she licked her tongue at the base of his shaft and ran it up his length, and took a moment to place sweet little kisses at his tip. He felt the urge to bury his hands in her hand and plunge himself deeply into her mouth. Her eyes gazed up at him, glazed over in desire as she took the head between her lips swirling her tongue, and giving a testing suck. “Fuck.” He breathed out his head pulling slightly to the side, feeling his lover smile around him as she pushed him further into her mouth. “Ahh- Shit, Nari~” He whined looking down at what was possibly the most beautiful thing he has ever laid eyes on. She hummed in response to his erection pulling her mouth up it.

“Shit-” He hissed again as she bobbed her head back down taking nearly all of him in, gagging as he hit the back of her throat. All sense leaving him now, Saeyoung wrapped his fingers into her hair, guiding her along with his cock, groaning and panting as his pleasure built. Nari moaned against him as he tugged at her hair, sensed chills of pleasure throughout her, and his sounds made her throb with need.

Saeyoung just about lost it, when he watches Nari slip her hand into her own shorts, and he watched her fingers move under the fabric. He growled slowing the pace of head as he watched hand start to vigorously work herself and she moaned sweetly on his cock. It was in that moment he couldn’t control the urge to come anymore, he tugged harshly on her hair, trying to take her off his cock as he felt his balls tighten, but she resisted him as his seed shot into her mouth. He grunted as he felt her swallow around him, and then her eyes shot open and she released him crying out in pure bliss. The remainder of his ejaculation hit her face and ran down her breast. Saeyoung went limp in his chair panting, as she let her head clasp on his thigh.

“You okay?” He asked running his fingers along her sweaty brow lovingly.

“I’m more than okay.” She assured him turning her head to look up at him. He smiled down at her caressing her face.

“Let’s get some sleep.” He suggested.

“Let’s.” She agreed.

#Mystic Messenger #mysme 707 #707 x mc #707 X Custom MC #Spoilers #Smut #Another Story retelling

10 notes · View notes

jediryssabean · 7 years

Text

you’ve got stars in your eyes

i want you all to know that i love eren jaeger very much. happy late birthday my beautiful boy and happy season two to the rest of us!

special thanks, as always, to @baegerbombtastic, who reads my garbage whenever i send it, regardless of what we were talking about at the time, and thank you to @ereriere for telling me i’m not a failure for taking too many months to post this.

Pairing: Eren/Levi Verse: Let There Be Light (a prince au) Rating: T (but E for last chapter) Summary: Stillness hits the dancefloor with all the weight of a summer storm, ending just as suddenly as it had started, and the index and middle finger of the Queen Regent’s right hand are pressed to Eren’s throat, her left pressed to the crook of her own elbow, while Eren’s fingers are curled around her wrist. It’s a scene from a fable that Levi had never retained over his decade of royal service, though Isabel had told it to him more times than he’d asked.

The Queen drops her arms when silence settles back over the ballroom, dropping into a curtsy modest enough for a Regent but deep enough to show gratitude—and the marble beneath Levi’s feet vibrates with applause. Nobles ten paces in front of him chatter back and forth in languages he doesn’t know, but some words are familiar, if only because of the context.

Prince. Regent. Beautiful.

Levi wants to agree, can feel the force of it climbing onto his tongue, scraping the insides of his cheeks.

When he looks back toward the center of the ballroom, he finds Eren’s eyes on him.

Or you can [Read on AO3]!

chapters: i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii | viii | ix | x | xi

(Levi had known it was a dream the moment that Eren had stepped from the shadows.

“who are you?” he’d said—only this time he’d been taller, older, rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand, his hair mussed from a too-deep sleep. Levi had known the sleepclothes he’d been wearing—a T-shirt from his university and the gray sweatpants—just like he’d known the clothes the Prince had worn when he’d been disturbed from sleep ten years earlier. There had been birds on them.

“it’s me,” Levi had said with the voice of the man he’d become, had taken one step closer and offered out his hand. The corridor was silent around them, the wall sconces cutting through the shadows so little that their light was almost negligible. “i couldn’t sleep.”

His knife had been a heavy weight inside his boot, just like the lie that he’d just told.

Levi’s clothes had been the same as those from his memory—dark and soft, his sap-soled boots silent against the stone floor. These had been the clothes he’d killed in countless times, their color too deep to stain with blood. Eren’s fingers had brushed against the hem of Levi’s sleeve as he’d taken his hand, hesitating not-at-all as he’d shifted his grip there, choosing instead to lace their fingers. His hand had been warm, his grip gentle, and Levi had pulled him close.

He’d smelled of sunflowers and winter, of late night coffee and garden chatter. Levi could feel his lips against his cheek, curling upward in a smile. “want to go for a walk, or something?” Eren had said, his nose brushing against Levi’s temple.

“isn’t it past your curfew?” Levi had asked, had turned his head for a kiss.

“isn’t it past yours?” Eren had laughed, had let it brighten his face and reveal his teeth—and then his body had gone limp, just a little, had sagged against Levi’s in the boneless way that bodies do when life leaves them sooner than it had been supposed to.

Levi hadn’t been able to breathe.

As Levi’s arms wrapped around his torso to keep him upright, he’d felt blood on his hands. There had been a knife in Eren’s back, perfectly placed between his ribs to cut through the muscle there, pushed in at an upward angle to hit the heart. The Prince had still been breathing as his fingers curled in Levi’s shirt, but it had sounded wet, had sounded like boiling water, and Levi’s knife was still in his boot. It hadn’t made any sense—

“i told you,” the sound of metal against stone, of the rattle of rock inside a glass jar, “i wanted you to end an empire, not fuck it into compliance.” The shadows around them had quivered, and Eren had said his name. “but i guess it’s better this way, isn’t it, boy? you didn’t have to kill him—all you had to do was make it easier.”

Levi had woken up gasping. Eren had stirred beside him.)

There are five entryways into the ballroom.

Eight stained-glass windows are set high into the wall, too far to reach from the ground, and all of them are triple-paned. There are two wide guest-doorways with two palace guards positioned beside each one, and at least three staff entrances, beside which stand two members of the Prince’s Guard each.

Levi hates that he knows that. He hates that he notices that the only armed guards in attendance are those of Eren’s retinue, hates that he knows that this exact spot has the most unobscured view of the room.

He shouldn’t’ve come here. There are too many fucking people, and his hands are clammy, his fingertips going numb, and he wasn’t made for this. He should’ve told Eren that they could meet afterward, that Levi could help him out of his laced-up clothing, that he could do it slowly and with an effort. He shouldn’t fucking be here, and yet—

The ballroom goes still the moment the royal family is announced by the herald. Levi’s never been in a room this quiet filled with so many people, and he’s been to enough functions like this that he knows a little of what goes on here. Usually there’s gossip, one perfectly coifed hairstyle leaning close to speak to another, perfumes and colognes carrying messages too loud for whispers. But the herald’s voice is uninterrupted—not by the quiet murmur of people angling for a better view, nor the soft music of jewelry shifting against skin.

The only sound that scrapes against the ceiling, after the echo of the herald’s announcement dies against the brightly colored marble beneath their feet, is the opening of the door that leads to the Sunlit Hall itself—where the Regent and her Consort take audiences. Where the floor is decorated like a starscape, cold and distant and divinely constructed.

And the Prince is breathtaking, enough that all of Levi’s second-guesses turn to dust between his fingers.

He’s almost fucking gliding at the King Consort’s heels, his eyes focused on the back of his father’s head as the royal family makes their way across the raised pathway. Even from this far away, even from across an entire ballroom, Levi thinks he can see Eren’s eyelashes, stretching into forever when he blinks. He can trace the column of Eren’s throat with his eyes, can follow the shift of his weight between his feet when the procession stops and reorients, can admire the curve of his cheek as he settles at the Queen Regent’s right hand side, his hands folded just below his abdomen.

There’s something funny about this in a way that makes Levi’s mouth dry. After all, he’s the only one in this room that knows that there are bruises just beneath the collar of Eren’s outermost shirt—a weird, modern crossbreed between a tailored doublet and some humane version of a corset, laced tightly in the back.

He’d watched Eren pull on the undershirt this morning, had seen the way that the fabric covered marks that Levi’s mouth had left behind.

“Thank you for spending this evening with us.” The Queen Regent’s voice has always sounded like a weapon, but Levi’s never heard this version of it before—a pipe organ in the distance, indicating a celebration of something, waiting to shift into the minor key at a moment’s notice. Power like that, Levi supposes, is something a lot of rulers could envy. “It’s our pleasure to welcome you to the palace to celebrate the coming winter, and the year’s harvest, and the triumph of the daylight even as our nights grow longer.”

It’s a delicate reference to her nation’s traditions—festivals that celebrate the triumphs and tribulations of ancient gods, the acknowledgement of the change in seasons that no longer really affect harvests and exports, the subtle reminder that it’s the hospitality of Samudr that has them standing here. Her guests murmur, some of them raising wine glasses in the direction of the pathway, and Levi thinks he can see a smile shift onto her lips, easing onto her face.

“It’s also our honor to get right to the party,” the Regent says, and laughter ripples across the ballroom from wall to wall. But it doesn’t swallow her words when she continues, “but first we greet the space between seasons with a brief demonstration of our beloved history.” Rose-gold bangles glitter on her wrist as he lifts one hand to gesture to Eren, still poised perfectly beside her. The King Consort doesn’t turn his head.

Eren bows only slightly, unlacing his fingers as he does so, and the Queen Regent sweeps the fabric of her dress in a circle as she descends the stairs, the deep red-orange fabric wrapped around her shoulder shimmering with stitched gold.

The audience in front of the pathway backs up with no help from the palace guards stationed in a line beside the stairs, their own red-orange leather catching fire in the light dripping from the chandeliers like liquid. The Queen Regent’s regal colors look almost too-warm beside the Prince’s white-gold and seafoam green, and yet as they stand across from one another on the polished stone of the dancefloor, there’s a complement between them.

Their hands rise to take position, the Crown Prince mirroring the Regent, and their bodies shift into a stance that Levi’s never seen before. This moment is one that he’d only ever heard of, that Isabel had told him stories about from past festivals just like this one. The year before, it had been the Regent and her Consort, just like it had been the year before that one, and the year before that, and the year before that.

This year is different. Symbolic. A show of the kingdom’s heir.

It’s a little bit like Eren’s first day as the Crown Prince, in some ways.

(It had been his twelfth birthday, the year he’d picked the colors that would be his during his Regency, and he’d stood at his mother’s right-hand side, while the Consort had been at her left. The ceremony had been held in the Sunlit Hall, while other leaders from other nations had congratulated the family on their beautiful boy.

Allegedly, the entire affair had been sweet. Beautiful. A celebration of the nation’s future. The palace staff had been unable to stop gossiping about it for weeks afterward.

But Levi had been in the gardens for that, and so had no gossip to share.)

The ballroom smells of rose petals, the columns and the window-ledges decorated with and endless number of flowers, each a different color, a different shape. The air is thick around his shoulders, and it’s absolutely still.

And then the music begins.

It’s all string instruments and tambourines as Eren and the Regent drop their arms at the same time, sliding into steps that reflect each other perfectly. Everything about their pacing is fluid—the way their fingers curl as they slip past one another, the rotation of their hips as they ease into footwork that Levi knows is happening only because of the color in Eren’s cheeks, the flutter of the Regent’s dress as she spins beautifully enough to almost pull down the shawl draped over her hair.

Watching Eren dance isn’t anything like watching him fight.

He’s still graceful, obviously. And the intensity carving out the line of his jaw is the same. But even though there are heartbeats where it looks like the Regent’s fingernails will dig furrows into the Prince’s cheek, and there are steps that make it seem as if Eren’s elbow is going to end up in his mother’s gut, none of the collisions ever come. It’s just a mother, and a son, and a dance that tells a story about not-yet-forgotten gods.

It’s as if there’s something softer about the way his body moves when he’s like this. Maybe he’d been too busy watching Eren’s face to notice, the first time. Watching his eyes, his lips, the flash of his teeth, the shifting of his hair above his eyebrows, and the sun etched in gold between them.

Or—no. It’s not softness. It’s like watching a thunderstorm from a distance, or seeing a river loop around a mountainside before it turns into a waterfall. It’s like seeing wind push snow from a precipice. It’s like knowing that the universe is moving through his body.

Something meaningful like that.

Eren turns on the toe of one boot, the Regent compensates by twirling in a counter rotation, the motion enough to give a glimpse of her braided hair behind her neck, still mostly hidden by the shawl. The way they move is effortless, and the chandeliers are turning Eren’s hair into threads of precious metals, and the poor angle Levi has from here does absolutely nothing to dim the glow of his basically-miraculous eyes.

(“so dance with me now,” Eren had said, and his lips had curved upward into a smile, and his hand had been warm as Levi had taken it. He’d been unable to refuse.

If he were to breathe just then, he’s sure he would taste the gardens weaving between his teeth.)

Stillness hits the dancefloor with all the weight of a summer storm, ending just as suddenly as it had started, and the index and middle finger of the Queen Regent’s right hand are pressed to Eren’s throat, her left pressed to the crook of her own elbow, while Eren’s fingers are curled around her wrist. It’s a scene from a fable that Levi had never retained over his decade of royal service, though Isabel had told it to him more times than he’d asked.

Prince. Regent. Beautiful.

Levi wants to agree, can feel the force of it climbing onto his tongue, scraping the insides of his cheeks.

When he looks back toward the center of the ballroom, he finds Eren’s eyes on him.

His cheeks are dark with the runaround he’d done on the dancefloor and his eyes are holding the lamplight in pinpricks, stars peeking through some unearthly, interstellar green as they rotate around the edges of his pupils. His body shifts, his weight moving between his feet as he lifts one hand to rest his fingers against his lips, and Levi can feel the atmosphere roll around his ears, can feel it pushing against his sinuses like too much water.

The Queen Regent’s final speech sounds as if it’s coming from far away—or from above the waterline. “And with that, we officially declare the festivities initiated.”

People begin to move around him, passing through the space between himself and the Prince, and the music that rises from the orchestral alcove is softer than the country’s traditional pieces—it’s less percussive, slightly slower, and feels more like a breeze. But all of these things are surprisingly inconsequential, fading into background noise and peripheral color.

Eren is smiling behind his knuckles. Levi can see it in the wrinkled skin beside his eyes, can almost catch a glimpse of his teeth, and it lingers on his face, lights it up from the inside, and when Levi breathes he can smell the remnants of summer beneath the perfume of the roses. Underneath everything else, there’s the sting of sawdust, the grind of dust in his teeth, the prickling of Eren’s attention beneath his skin.

This look feels more dangerous than the one they’d shared in the training yard. It feels like something Levi could lean into, like something he’s already leaned into, like a palm against his cheek.

Summer into autumn. Sawdust to honeysuckle to cosmos to roses. Sunflower fields to gardens to bedrooms. Whispers to laughter to kissing to dancing to—this.

The moment doesn’t shatter when Eren’s eyes are pulled elsewhere, it simply stretches. It sticks to Levi’s skin like dewdrops, presses against his chest hard enough to make his ribs creak with its weight. It’s a promise of fleeting glances, all fucking night, and it’s a promise of other things. Of a future. Of ballrooms and polished dancefloors and kisses that taste like sunflowers.

(“when i’m king, i’ll have to take breaks just to kiss you.”

The sound of tires against mud, scrambling for purchase and finding none.)

Levi takes a breath and indulges in the taste of roses. It doesn’t steady the tremor in his pulse.

“So which one’s yours?” A questioned dipped in dark chocolate drags itself across the wall behind him, curling against the grout. There’s no twinkling clatter of jewelry accompanying it—but there is the whisper of a knife in a leather sheath, and Levi can feel his teeth grinding together even as he turns his head to glance beside him.

While he’s never met her personally, he’s heard a great deal about Ymir of Yvini, the beloved bodyguard-turned-wife of Her Majesty Historia Reiss . He’s heard about her freckles and her height, and he’s heard about the deep color of her skin that contrasts in some sort of elegant way with the lavender-and-rose colors of her wife’s royal house. He’s heard about her age, and can see the laughter lines beside her lips.

The only paint on her face are kohl-lines, a relic of the country she’d come from, probably, though no one really knew for sure—and way she looks at him makes his skin feel like it’s covered in kindling. If he entertains that thought enough, he can almost smell smoke, can almost feel it stinging the inside of his nose.

“Pardon?” Levi shifts his weight to his right foot, keeping his arms crossed over his chest. He returns her once-over with one of his own.

“Which one is yours?” She takes the spot beside him against the wall, mirroring his posture by leaning her spine against it and crossing her arms just beneath her sternum. And then she nods toward the dancefloor, dragging Levi’s attention back to the sea of people—and the Prince. “Mine is the small blonde one. With the necklace.”

(Historia Reiss had been ten years old when Levi had last seen her, and it had been nothing more than a glance through a window. She’d been just as fair-haired and her eyes had been just as bright, and she hadn’t so much as spared him a heartbeat’s-worth of attention.

“beautiful girl you have there,” Kenny had said, rattling his voice around in a glass jar, sounding for all the world like every cigarette he’d ever dragged from.

“looks like a queen,” Rod Reiss had replied, all metal-on-stone, a blade cutting through pavement, “doesn’t she?”)

Historia’s hands are tiny where they fit in Eren’s, but her pacing is perfect as they sweep across the dancefloor, and the amethyst at her throat holds onto the lamplight, bouncing it between facets as her throat bobs when she swallows. But Eren isn’t looking at the stone on her necklace or the cut of her dress or the size of her hands—he’s leaning down to say something to her, his mouth moving too quickly to follow and then shifting out of view entirely.

On their next loop through whatever steps these are, Eren’s eyes flicker toward Levi’s face for half-a-breath. It feels like a kiss against his temple.

“Oh,” Ymir’s jacket rustles as she adjusts her position against the wall, “I see. So you’re the gardener.” The violins from the far corner of the ballroom fill the silence in a way that Levi refuses to. “What’s a gardener doing at a fancy party? Fuck knows I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be.”

Levi almost snorts, and he can see why Eren takes a shine to this couple so much. He and Ymir are similar, a little.

“If I didn’t come, how would I know if my roses were a hit?” His words chill the inside of his mouth when he says them, but they’re not icy enough to be a breach of protocol—and even if they were, he’s not entirely sure that Ymir would report him anyway. “I’d miss out on all the compliments that people would absolutely be showering me with if the royal family wasn’t hogging all the attention.”

Ymir laughs only once, and it’s soft, but it smoothes out the sharp edges of her cheeks, soothing the frozen rim of her irises. “Hogging the attention at their own shindig. Sure.” She hums, and her eyes follow Historia’s movement across the floor, catching the thrown looks and the almost-hidden fluttering of fingers in a wave. “They are very nice roses. Diverse. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many international roses in one place.”

Someone laughs too-loudly across the room, pressing down on the strings and the soft clatter of champagne glasses, but the dancing goes uninterrupted. “It took weeks to process the order and days to keep them alive, thanks for noticing.”

This laugh is louder only barely, but it lasts longer, fading into the rhythm of people’s feet along the marble of the floor. “Sure thing, Mr. Gardner.” The pause Ymir leaves between them is longer, too, and there’s no hum to fill it. “It’s kind of funny, though. You don’t really look like a gardener over here. Is it a new thing the Prince’s Guard has taken up? Plants on weekends, or…?”

Levi doesn’t look away from Eren’s face. One of his cheeks is dimpling as he smiles, tilting his head so that Historia can better reach his ear for some comment or another.

“Nope,” he says. “I’m just a gardener. But the vote of confidence is inspiring.”

Something in Ymir’s chest rumbles, and it’s not a hum. It reminds him of something else—of a tree falling against too-damp earth beneath the force of an ice-melt river. The sweat that had been drying on Levi’s palms starts back up again, numbing the heels of his hands.

“Eren talks about you, apparently,” Ymir says, rolling her words between her fingers like pearls. “To Historia, I mean. Which means I know you tangentially. You don’t have to act like you’re sucking a ripe lemon.” Her voice lowers to a whisper, and this time there’s something conspiratorial in the curse of her lips. The smell of wisteria rises from her collarbones, swatting aside the soft sighs of the roses. “I’m not going to tattle. And no one would believe me anyway!”

Her freckles are closer like this, and when he’s not watching the line of Eren’s shoulders or the curve of his mouth or the shape of his throat, it’s easier to quiet the longing to embarrass himself by moving across the dancefloor in front of too many people. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to look Historia’s wife in the face when she already thinks she knows what she’s talking about.

Maybe he’d just been getting too comfortable as a gardener. Maybe he’d just forgotten, for too many moments, all the things he’d been trying to hide.

“Are you saying that I’m not pretty enough to get the attention of His Highness?” Levi asks, and his voice is perfectly even, dropped onto the marble to rest beside Ymir’s boots.

Laughter like wooden chimes, round and warm. Leftover suspicion falls from her shoulders in the shape of feathers. “I don’t know his type, so I can’t honestly be sure. When I met the kid, I was sure that he didn’t have a type, just spent his time gathering dust by throwing around his Guards or reading books or whatever it is he does.” The kohl beside her eyes doesn’t smear when she rubs at it, clearing away an eyelash that had caught itself there. “But when he came to the—to our wedding, he looked so… I don’t know. It’s complicated. It was the first time I’d ever seen him chatty, so—“

She stops, then, and she turns her head toward the herd of people mingling at the edges of the dancefloor, watching as Historia appears from around some ruffled skirts. Her hair is still perfectly placed, strands of gold curling at her temples, and her cheeks are pink with the effort of moving across the ballroom for however many songs had passed.

Levi had lost track of some of the time.

Ymir is already moving away from the wall when Levi looks back for her, already sweeping Historia into a wide turn that fans her skirt, hiding the toes of her shoes. Historia laughs, swatting at Ymir’s shoulder, and it’s only when she’s got her feet on the ground again that she begins to address them both.

“You looked like you were having fun over here.” When she speaks, it’s just this side of breathless, and her accent strings her sentence together with lines of caramel. “I thought that I’d cut in.” Her hand comes up to tap Ymir’s elbow, and the freckles on her face almost disappear beneath the softness there. Ymir’s eyes are half-lidded and there’s a smile on her lips and Levi can feel something crawling up his throat that burns a lot like jealousy.

They’re here, in front of an entire fucking royal festival, filled with noble blood and expensive clothes, and they can look at each other that way. The whispers fall short of whatever space they had made for themselves, and the cutting glances are dulled before they can even get close to bare skin. He’s sure that if they’d wanted to, they could kiss where they’re standing, and there would be gossip tomorrow, and it wouldn’t bother them in the least.

Levi hadn’t thought that he’d ever want something like that this badly. He hadn’t thought that he’d taste it like this, that it would curl his tongue like this, that it would be bitter like this.

For the second time in his life, Levi thinks this must be what it’s like to know he’s starving.

Historia keeps speaking, but this time her eyes aren’t on him at all. “Eren says that he wants to see you on the dancefloor for a single dance before you can dance with me. He says that you’ll be unstoppable once you get your way, and he hasn’t seen you since the wedding.”

“High Highness deigns to tell me when I can and can’t dance with my own wife?” Ymir’s expression flickers between aghast and amused, and the kohl around her eyes bends into the delicate crow’s feet at the corners. “This is an outrage.”

Historia shrugs, her lips rolled over her teeth to push back the laughter that’s coloring the skin of her ears. “It’s his country. Do you want to dance with me or not?”

Ymir sighs loudly enough that Levi can feel the air pressure change around his ears, and she steps away with the staccato steps of a child sent to her room. But the crowd that isn’t dancing parts around her, and she meets Eren on the dancefloor as decorum tells her that she ought to, and when she hits the marble twirling, she’s sharing secrets in the exact same way that Historia had been.

Their steps are longer, this time. It’s more than likely because they’re both so fucking tall.

“So you’re Levi,” Historia says, sounding satisfied as she takes Ymir’s place beside him, though not going as far as to lean against the wall. The stone at her throat is no less impressive from this close up, and he keeps his eyes there for three breaths, steadying the vibrating in his bones. “The roses are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Levi replies. There’s blood rushing in his ears, and he can’t hear the violins anymore. “They turned out really well, considering the humidity when you gather a shitload of people together.”

Historia curls the fingers of one hand beneath her chin, smiling. “They’re gorgeous.” Her necklace bobs when she swallows, and her jaw works around words that Levi can see coming, and he can almost hear them crunch against her molars when she says, “I’ve heard a lot about you. Good things, I mean.” For a moment, it doesn’t feel odd that there’s no ‘we’ when she speaks. Maybe Eren’s spoiled him that way. “From Eren.”

Envy rises back up inside his chest, gathers at the bottom of his lungs, makes it hard to breathe. Inhaling through his nose doesn’t make it any easier, just makes the bubbles feel thicker as they press against his tonsils, cutting off his airflow.

There are conversations that he shouldn’t have, and he knows it. He knows that Historia is dangerous, if only because her despot father had ordered the murder of a ten-year-old prince that slept in pajamas with bird on them. He knows that the Reiss family had written his uncle into its employ, just like he knows that if Ymir wanted to, she could tell Eren that she’d smelled like lies on Levi’s breath.

But the violins are still pulling gently at his heart, and the smell of rose petals is sitting in his sinuses, and the memories of Eren’s hand on his waist and the rhythm of their footsteps is carrying through his pulse.

(“there’s weakness in you,” Kenny had told him once as he’d cleaned the blood from his knife, using one long and filthy fingernail to pry at something stuck in the serrated edge. “that bordello run should’ve been a fucking breeze, but you let the madam get in the way. she wasn’t even fucking armed.”

Levi had watched the shadows move across the ceiling, had listened to the tik-tik-tik of the way the knife pulled at Kenny’s nail. His broken ribs had made breathing a challenge, had made speaking into something like a chore.

“i wasn’t getting paid to kill the madam,” Levi had replied, and his voice had almost been a wheeze. “so what would’ve been the point in that?”)

His fingers find the knot on his ribcage where they hadn’t healed properly. He can feel the mark that Eren had sucked there when he presses down.

There are a lot of things that are dangerous these days. What’s one more?

“You don’t say,” Levi tells her, watching the sunburst on Eren’s forehead play in the light from the chandeliers, settling between his eyebrows, curving only slightly against the slope of his forehead.

An enigmatic smile rises to Historia’s lips, and her dress whispers-sighs-murmurs as she inches closer. She smells of wisteria, just as Ymir had. “I do say.” The fingers beneath her chin move to come up to her lips, hiding the shape they take but doing nothing to muffle whatever she speaks against them. “Do you want to know what he says about you?”

Levi catches Eren’s eyes for the—he hasn’t been keeping count. He doesn’t know the number, anymore, but his heart stops the same way it does every time, before it begins to whine against the dirt in his chest.

This time, he raises his hand in a wave that’s easy to miss. This time, he smiles.

This time, Eren’s face goes dark with color, and a grin rises to his mouth that’s wide enough to show teeth. This time, his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and Levi can see his ears go red. This time, the circlet flashes underneath the chandeliers, and Eren doesn’t look away, even as Ymir says something that’s too quiet to make its way across the ballroom, getting crushed between dancer's shoes instead.

“I’d like that,” Levi says, and he means it. “What does he say about me?”

Historia leans close, and she begins to whisper.

Levi’s skin doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

(Eren had been able to feel the way his hair was sticking to the skin of his temples, just like he was able to see with perfectly clarity the fact that Armin had yet to be dancing at all. His hair had been perfectly brushed, and the Gubernatorial robes of his grandfather had lain perfectly across his shoulders as if they’d been fitted for them.

They probably had been, all things considered.

“you look like you’re having fun,” Armin had told him, his hands folded and hidden beneath the wide sleeves of his robe. They’d been dyed the color of summer grasses, streaked with golden sand. “i didn’t even think you’d show up.”

“the queen regent would’ve gutted us,” Eren had told him, had decided to catch his breath in an alcove adjacent to the buffet table, a glass of water held between his hands. The regal plural had come to him naturally, as it had always done in large crowds. “besides, dancing isn’t so bad once in a while. great cardio.”

Armin had laughed, had waved at Mikasa from across the ballroom as she entertained yet another dance partner who definitely wasn’t going to be interesting enough for a second turn around the floor. She’d smiled, then, and it had been sharp enough to cut glass.

“you’re happier,” Armin had told him after a moment’s pause as he’d hidden his hands back away beneath his sleeves. Shadows of other attendees had moved along the wall behind him, their shapes moving together like pools of water. “it looks good on you.”

Levi’s eyes had been on him, had settled on the back of his neck. He’d been able to feel it, somehow, like fingertips tracing up his vertebrae. Goosebumps had risen on his skin.

“it’s lightheaded delirium,” Eren had said, had turned just enough to reveal the almost-too-tight lacing on the back of his jacket. “you know we get giddy when we can’t breathe.”

Armin had snorted at that, had slid his gaze over Eren’s shoulder with a hum just low enough to rattle the roots of Eren’s teeth. “sure,” Armin had humored him, had let a smile that told no secrets pull at the corners of his mouth. “whatever you say. in through the nose, out through the mouth, highness. wouldn’t want you to pass out and embarrass your family for decades to come.”

Eren had found himself laughing loud enough to make his ribs feel close to breaking, stretching the fabric of the jacket tight.)

He can taste roses between his teeth as he walks across the corridor’s thick carpet. Annie is two paces ahead of him, positioned slightly to his right, and her boots are silent as they make their way toward the guest bathroom. The dagger at her hip is a little louder, shifting in its sheath with every other step, the metal hiding stories inside the noise it makes.

“You know, there’s a staff bathroom closer to the ballroom,” Eren says, his shadow splitting into pieces as they walk through a gauntlet of all sconces, coupled with the wide lamps fixed to the arched ceiling above them. “No one’s gonna want to walk all the way down here unless they haven’t danced at all.”

The look Annie cuts him is unimpressed with his logic and with his almost-petulance. It doesn’t get any softer when he smiles. “Her Majesty would have a stroke if you were to use a staff bathroom, especially where one of the staff could run into you. Especially where someone of high birth could see you disappear into it. And then her ghost would come back to haunt me.”

Eren snorts, and it smells like wisteria and roses, like sweat and cold marble. “You sound like Jean.”

“If you hadn’t wandered off during the summer festival, Jean would’ve been here instead.” Her eyebrows rise on her forehead, but there’s a smile threatening to pull at one edge of her lips. “But no, you could’ve gotten him into a world of trouble, and his exact words were, ‘this is not my responsibility tonight, this is yours, and you better make sure you hold his hand on the way to the bathroom, because he’ll get lost.’”

“Is he allowed to talk about me that way? I don’t think he’s allowed to talk about me that way.” He tugs at the hem of his jacket, rolling up his cuffs past his wrists as the bathroom comes into view.

“Looks like he already did, Your Highness,” Annie replies, pushing open the polished wooden door and standing against it to hold it ajar as he walks through. The sound of his boots against the stone is sudden, scattering across the marble floor and puddling in the sinks. “Remember to wash your hands when you’re done thinking.”

Eren’s laughter settles beside the noise his boots had made, splattering against the mirror. “This is the worst part of having babysitters. What do they call this in public bathrooms? Performance anxiety?”

“Stop being disgusting,” Annie says, tucking her hands behind her and pressing them to the bade of her spine, “and go to the bathroom so we can get back to your party. Otherwise Her Majesty will think you’ve cut and run again.”

The stall is made of the same wood as the door and its frame had been, and it whispers shut behind him. It’s cold in here, far colder than the ballroom had been, and he can feel the coming winter threatening to creep through the floor and cut through his clothes.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” Eren asks, speaking over the lip of the stall itself. His voice is muffled by the wood, pressed close at either side.

“Probably not, no.”

The space between them goes quiet, then. Annie’s never been particularly talkative, but she’s always made an effort to try, and that’s something that he appreciates—but this isn’t really different for them. A joke, a conversation, and then it fades into silence, settling around their shoulders like curtains, or clothing, or mist.

And so he leans backwards to press the ridge of his spine against the stall door, listening to the wood creak softly underneath his weight. It’s a habit more than a decade old, and it gives him the time to separate himself from the noise. It makes him grateful, a little, that Annie was chosen for tonight’s babysitting run. The quiet soothes the ringing in his ears.

(“eren,” Hannes had been crouched outside one of the staff bathrooms, the toes of his boots peeking beneath the base of the stall. His voice had been gentle, and he’d been almost two years into sobriety, and Eren’s birthright had been a fresh wound between his eyebrows, “it’s time to come out if you’re not going to use the bathroom.”

“no,” he’d replied, had folded himself onto the floor, out of reach of Hannes’ search hands. “i’m tired of people looking at me and talking to me and congratulating my mother as if i’m a fucking newborn.”

A sigh, no wider than a thumb. “you shouldn’t say things like that, kiddo.”

“why not?” He’d bent his legs tighter, and his lungs had been burning with... something. He hadn’t known what. “you do it all the time.”

Hannes hadn’t known what to say to that, and Eren had felt like he’d won—until he’d heard the rustle of fabric and the creaking of Guard-leathers, and Hannes had taken a seat on the stall’s other side. The stone floor had been warm beneath his backside, a relic of the middle of spring. Eren had been able to hear the staff murmuring just outside the bathroom entryway.

“okay,” Hannes had said, and Eren had known that he’d have to explain this to the Queen Regent later, just like he’d known Hannes would take all the blame in the process. It had made his ribs feel too small for everything inside them. “let’s take a breather, then. there’ll probably be leftovers, anyway.”

Eren’s fingers had itched with the urge to pick at the golden scab on his forehead, and his eyes had burned with the urge to cry.

He wasted fifteen minutes on the bathroom floor, thinking. But he’d felt lighter after that.)

Eren can’t hear the ballroom from in here. Maybe it’s better than he’d chosen to follow Annie’s lead into the middle of a fucking hallway to hide in a noble bathroom. The staff rooms are always noisy, always in the middle of things, always someone coming and going.

The stall door is smooth beneath his fingertips. He can still smell the remnants of the wisteria perfume that Historia prefers. The back of his neck still tingles where Levi’s attention had been. There are kisses along his body that he can feel when his clothes shift along his skin.

And there’s a hollowness in his chest.

He’d known, objectively, that he and Levi would be unable to dance. And he’d known, too, that he wouldn’t’ve traded anything in the universe for Levi’s presence here, for the view of him leaning against the wall, for the soft smile he’d been awarded on a particularly quick step that had almost cost Eren his own toes.

Levi had been beautiful, like he always is. The urge to kiss him is still a painful presence curling keep in his gut.

If it had been a movie, he wouldn’t’ve cared, probably. He’d’ve eaten the ballroom with long strides, would’ve offered his one hand to Levi in the way that charming princes do, would’ve asked for a dance and wiggled his eyebrows, would’ve—he doesn’t know. Kissed him, maybe.

But Levi would’ve hated him for that.

“Highness.” His title drops to the bathroom floor with all the poise of falling snow when Annie says it like that, melting when it hits the stone. The endless possibilities of how tonight could be going disappear from behind Eren’s eyelids, and he clears his throat to show he’d heard. “What kind of king do you think you’ll be?”

It’s a surprising enough question that he opens his eyes. “What?”

“What kind of king do you think you’ll be?” The edges of her question sharpen, pressing against the side of his face.

“A good and fair one?” There are swirls of color in the stone of the wall across from him, and he traces them with his eyes. “I—I don’t know? I’m... trying to figure it out.” A pause, and his throat tightens. There are—he swallows against a feeling that threatens to choke him. “I don’t think I’ll be King forever, Annie.”

It’s a confession that no one’s heard before. Not Hannes, not Jean. Certainly not his mother. And not Levi, either.

“Excuse me?” There might be a tremor in her voice if he listens close enough—but it gets lost in the sighing of the air conditioning above them, and Eren can’t be sure that he’d heard it at all.

“I just—I don’t know. I think that... after—if I get far enough to be considered a good King, I might just transfer power. I think a governing body would be better for us. As a country. Like—a prime minister, or something. Armin would be good at that. He’s great at managing people. And the people deserve to have voices. Petitioning the Crown isn’t always the best—I just think that maybe the best part of us is our people. And we should lean on that a little more.” Soil is collecting behind his teeth and it makes him want to cough. Instead, he changes tact, twisting his sentences into something far less... disorienting. “I’m thinking of retiring. The first King in history to do so! Maybe I’ll teach physics. Be the first King with a doctorate, too.”

This silence feels different from the others they’d shared in their history, feels heavier and chilled-over and makes his ears burn. Whatever space Eren had needed, he’s had enough of by now, and he bends the stall’s handle under his hand, popping the lock when he does.

Annie is still exactly where he’d left her, positioned beside the bathroom entrance, and her gaze follows him to the sink. Her face looks different, though he can’t explain how, and if he squints, he thinks he can see her skin cracking around her cheekbones, as if she’d been molded from ceramic and left too long too dry.

Ah, he’s got the word for that. She looks brittle.

Soap foams between his fingers as he lathers it beneath the spray from the faucet. It smells of vanilla and something else.

“Annie,” Eren says, catching a stray cloud of bubbles that had gotten stuck on the heel of his hand, “you don’t have to worry about what I said, or anything. I was just talking out of my ass, as usual. When I’m—I’d like to travel, when I’m King. I’d like... alliances. I’d like to be able to meet people where they are, and I’d like them to forget that I didn’t travel a lot when I was a Prince.” Another pause, this one just as painful. Annie doesn’t make any effort to disturb it. “I want to be good at what I do.”

The sound that her boots make against the stone of the floor don’t alarm him. Neither does her reflection in the mirror, even as his spine rattles at the image of someone standing behind him, and so close.

His face hitting the rim of the lava stone countertop, however, alarms him deeply.

“Fucking shit—“ there’s blood gathering on the ridge of his eyebrows, catching on his eyelashes, and his reflexes move his body before his brain can catch up. The sole of Annie’s boot had been aimed where the back of his skull had been, and that would’ve hurt, would’ve knocked out some of his teeth. “Annie, what the fuck? I was just thinking out loud, and—if this is another one of Shadis’ bullshit ‘you have to be prepared for—for—“

His hands are shaking when he pushes himself upright. He doesn’t have the time to finish the thought that’s still on his tongue.

Annie moves forward, both her arms held in an offensive position, and she has the advantage. Eren is between her and the bathroom’s far wall. He won’t have any room to maneuver, to ask questions, to figure out what the fuck is going on while Annie has him here.

She throws a punch that catches him on the cheek, and he leans in, twisting his body so that he can throw as much weight as possible into the force of his right leg against her ribcage. She coughs, stumbles, catches herself against the countertop in front of a sink he hadn’t been using.

The water in the one he’d used has washed away all the soap and the smell of vanilla and mint.

Eren moves behind her, turning on the toe of one boot to keep his back to the entryway as he inches toward it, the front of his body facing Annie as she falls back into a stance that he’s seen countless times. Her arms are hanging by her sides, her right one poised just above the hilt of her dagger.

There’s a complicated expression on her face, pulling her skin tight across her cheeks, threatening to split them open, and as Eren watches her, he thinks he sees her pupils freeze in place. She’s always been better at controlling herself than he’d been, and whatever emotion had been trying to make its way across her features dies before it can hang itself there.

Her dagger comes out with a whisper, pulled from the sheath at her left hip.

Eren feels vomit pushing upward from his stomach, feels his palms go cold, feels—feels. His ribs are—he can hear them breaking.

This isn’t a test, or anything.

She’s simply trying to kill him.

“Annie, what the fuck are you doing?” Eren asks, even though he knows now. Daggers aren’t sparring weapons—shorter, fighting knives are. The stance her body shifts into with the blade in her hand is one that he’s never seen her use, and they’ve been practicing combat for... years. Ages.

“You’d make a great King,” Annie tells him, but her face is still giving him nothing. “I think that’s part of the problem. You’re already a great Prince.”

Eren doesn’t get it. Or—at least, he doesn’t think he does. Whatever is happening right now doesn’t make any sense, and his bones feel too heavy, and he can feel his blood drying on his forehead. There are stars swimming in front of his eyes when he moves them too quickly, and the heels of his boots are so fucking loud when he takes another step backward.

Annie’s toes seem to ghost across the floor when she lunges forward, the palm of one hand pressed to the base of the hilt of her dagger while the other is curled around it. It’s aimed for his solar plexus, and he’d drown in his own blood. It would take a while. It’d be painful, if she landed it.

She doesn’t.

Eren sidesteps, shoving her into the wall with his shoulder, but the dagger doesn’t fall from between her fingers, and she doesn’t lose her footing enough to take her to the floor. She shoves back, a schoolyard struggle, and Eren almost trips over the thick carpet in the main corridor before he turns his hips to compensate for his momentum.

He can taste sawdust in his mouth—can smell summertime and sweat, can catch the afterimage of sunlight on sword-sheaths behind his eyelids when he blinks.

But this isn’t the summer. This isn’t the summer, and this isn’t the training yard, and when her dragger comes for him for the third time, it comes at him hilt first. It hits him in the nose, propelled forward by her knees from a thirty-degree angle. Blood gathers in his mouth, pushes between his teeth, crawls down his throat like too-old molasses. He can’t tell if it’s broken or not.

When he speaks, it comes out wet, and it’s one word only. “Why?”

Annie pauses, then. His blood is on the hilt of her dagger. She sounds entirely sincere when she says, “it’s nothing personal, Eren.”

(Two horses. Two palace guards. A chef’s assistant with freckles.

None of them had died for any other reason than they’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. They’d simply been near him. Impersonal and professional, all of them. But not quite professional enough, because the only ones who’d died had never been the targets in the first place.

They’d just been in the way.)

Something blinds him, then.

The memory of smoke burns in his sinuses as he moves forward—one step, two steps, three—to keep up with the retreat Annie tries to pull. He aims one fist at her chest, can hear the wind tear from her lungs with a sound that’s a cross between a cough and a wheeze. His left fist goes for the side of her face but doesn’t land, blocked instead by the arm with the dagger. The light catching on the blade makes his head ache, the tightness of his jacket makes it difficult to catch a single fucking breath.

He swallows more of his own blood and moves to his right, just within the circle of her arms before she can shift her body into a guard position.

Annie’s dagger is close enough to his throat to be lethal, positioned point-first toward his pulse, and it would be absolutely problematic if he didn’t grab her right elbow, twisting his body and her arm at the same time. But he does.

The dagger hits the carpet, and so it doesn’t make a sound.

Her body is still close enough to his spine that he can feel the leather of her Guards’ armor brushing against the lacing of his doublet. They’re close enough together that when he slams his head backward, he can feel her forehead knock against it in a way that’s going to bruise them both.

Annie’s arms go loose and Eren steps out of them, his body falling into a perfect pivot, one hand reaching for the knife tucked away in his boot, pressed to his shin. It’s a motion he’s practiced countless times, and the reflex it had made for itself doesn’t care if Eren’s nose is bleeding or if his heart isn’t beating quite right. It just moves his muscles, curls his fingers around the ornate hilt, slams his knuckles against the side of Annie’s face, and sends her to the floor.

The reflex has the knife against her throat, has his knees on either side of her hips, but it hesitates.

No. He hesitates.

Blood drips from his chin to Annie’s throat, from his nose to her cheek, and her skin is turning purple. Her skin is turning purple because she can’t fucking breathe, because she’s dying, and it’s swallowing the freckles on her face, and her hands are coming up to her throat because she’s been poisoned, because—

“Are you going to do it?” She asks, and her face is normal. Her skin is pink from exertion, and his blood is drawing a line toward the carpet. “Or not?”

Eren punches her, and her head snaps to the side. His other hand is white knuckled around the knife.

When she speaks again, there’s blood on her teeth. “Try again.”

The second punch silences her, and it’s only when she doesn’t make another move that he uncurls his fingers from the wooden hilt. His palms are sweating when he stands, and his fingers won’t stop shaking as he ties her wrists with his belt. By the time he uses her own belt to bind her ankles, his hands are almost useless. Just like the fucking rest of him.

“I hope you realize that tying your boots is a poor excuse for leaving a party, Your—holy shit.” The voice behind him is loud, and it sounds like the captain of the palace guard. It sounds like Nile fucking Dawk, and it sounds too loud, and Eren’s ears are ringing. His ears are ringing and he can’t stand up. “Your Highness?”

Eren pulls his bicep back close to his body when Nile takes it in one hand, though his grip had been gentle. He’s sure that the guard-captain can feel the tremors in his shoulders as they rattle through his body, and it makes him sick. All of this makes him sick. Where had that come from? What had he done?

“Your Highness,” Nile still sounds too loud, though he’s speaking far softer now. His breath smells like orange juice as he crouches beside him. “What happened?”

“She tried to kill me,” Eren tells him, and his voice is—he can’t talk straight. His words had cracked open, and his windpipe won’t fucking cooperate. “She tried to kill me.”

He can see Nile out of the corner of his eye as he leans forward, can see the way the lamplight gets stuck in his stubble, sharpening each hair into needles. And then he says, “you’re bleeding. We need to get you looked at, and then you can tell me what happened. Okay?”

Nile doesn’t wait for a response before he’s already reaching across the short distance between them both to smear his thumb through the blood coming from Eren’s nose. But the contact doesn’t come, if only because his legs decide that they’ve had enough of bending, and that anyone’s hands on his face would surely make him vomit. It’d take forever to get out of the carpet. Blood will take forever to get out of these clothes. His blood. He’s bleeding, oh heavens above, he’s bleeding because Annie had just tired to—

“We’re going to our room,” Eren says with a voice that isn’t his. It’s too even and too cold and the breaths that make it up are too deep. They fill his lungs too fully and so they can’t be his.

Nile stands to meet him, a frown pulling heavily at the corners of his lips. “Your Highness, that’s not really wise right now until we know just what—“

“We’re going to our room right now.” Everything is edged in onyx, and for a moment he thinks he must sound like his mother, because Nile stops in his tracks. And so he proceeds. “Get her out of our sight.”

The guard-captain is caught between two emotions, and Eren can see them warring on his face. He doesn’t give them time to settle as he steps over Annie’s body, already stirring from where he’d knocked her unconscious, and his boots still make no noise against the carpet. It’s as if he’s walking on a cloud, or on water, and the only thing keeping him afloat is willpower.

“Your Highness—“ a groan interrupts him, soft enough to be Annie’s, and Eren is sure Nile isn’t following him, because then he hears, “oh no, you’re not moving an inch.” The sound of a knife moving out of reach, whispering against the rug before it clamors against the stone floor.

It’s a distraction enough that makes it safe enough to run.

Blood is congealing on Eren’s upper lip, and his hands are fumbling with the lacing at the back of his neck as he pulls at it, trying to make it easier—make something easier, just make one fucking thing easier, like breathing, or running, or escaping the rising noise behind him. Too many people are talking, and some of them are shouting, and there are members of the staff in the hallway that are watching him as if they’ve never seen him before.

Eren takes a corner and keeps moving. The laces aren’t getting any more cooperative.

He tastes smoke beneath his blood. Smoke, and a provincial Governor’s dining room. Smoke, and a provincial Governor’s dining room, and saltwater on a breeze. All of these things, and summertime, and sawdust, and he can’t fucking breathe. He can’t fucking breathe, he can’t breathe, and his jacket won’t come undone, and his knees are giving out at the staircase, and now his hands are shaking against the rug and they won’t fucking stop, they won’t stop, they—

“Eren?” Breathless and scared. Bootsteps, purposefully loud on the floor. There’s more shouting, far away, but it doesn’t matter. Levi speaks again, and his knees pop when he crouches, and there’s sweat at his temples. He’s panting. Watching is already-pale skin washout further looks like it’s happening in slow motion. “Fucking hell.”

“Levi.” His name breaks in his mouth and cuts the inside of his cheeks. “Levi, Annie tried to kill me.”

Levi’s pupils can’t seem to settle on a width as he looks over Eren’s face, and his lips go thin enough to become bloodless. His nose wrinkles with something that looks a lot like anguish, and Eren can’t explain where it’s coming from. Maybe his own face looks worse than he’d thought.

“The guard was pretty quick,” Levi tells him, and he’s not too loud. Thank the gods above that he’s not too loud. “They broke up the—everyone is being held in the ballroom. I used one of your—“ He stops, and he swallows, and Eren licks a flake of blood from his upper lip. It tastes of copper and salt. “One of your gopher tunnels. I—“ Levi holds out a hand, and leaves it raised. His fingers are trembling, a little. “Can I have a look at you?”

There’s a pause that stretches into... forever, it feels like. Levi leaves his hand there, looking like it’s ready to cradle Eren’s face. His thumb would be callused, if it did, and his fingers would feel nice there.

He feels his throat burn before it closes up. The stinging at the corners of his eyes feels like it’s happening to someone else’s body, his skin rippling as his ribs creak around a gasp that turns into a hiccup that turns into a—

Sob. It’s dry. Eren swallows. Coughs. Fresh blood oozes from his nose. Or maybe it’s mucus.

“She tried to kill me,” Eren says for the—again. He says it again. “She tried to—she tried to fucking kill me. She tried to kill me? Why did she—she asked me a question, and then she tried to kill me. I don’t know why she did it. Why would she do that? We were—she was my friend. We—for years, we’ve—she practiced with me, with knives. She��“

His throat is as weak as the rest of him, the words dying halfway between his chest and his tonsils, and they lodge into his windpipe in jagged shapes.

“Eren,” Levi tries his question a second time, and he’s being so—fucking soft. Gentle. Eren hates it. He fucking hates it—“Can I please have a look at you?”

There’s something fragile about the way he repeats his question. His fingers are blurring together in Eren’s vision. Everything his blurring together. Bleeding together. There’s still blood in his mouth.

All he can do is nod.

(An whisper of an echo, of a memory, of a dream. A dark hallway with muted wall sconces, a stone floor that had seemed to be freezing cold beneath his feet, pajamas that had been soft, and warm, and decorated with birds.

A shadow stepping out from the wall.

His own voice, heavy with sleep, barely loud enough to muffle the rumbling of his stomach. “who are you?”

A reply, barely remembered. Maybe fabricated. Maybe entirely a lie. “a ghost,” the shadow says, after a moment’s hesitation. Or maybe it had been two moments. Maybe it had been longer. “go back to sleep, okay? don’t come out again.”

A voice, pulled taut like a wire. His bedroom door, shut behind him. The lock clicks, in the memory. He falls back asleep, wrapped in a duvet that smells of lemongrass, or oranges, or grapefruit. Sunrise doesn’t come for a few more hours.

He wakes up craving toast. Or maybe pancakes. Or maybe waffles.

Or maybe it’s not even really remembered at all.)

#ryssafic #snk #shingeki no kyojin #ereri #eren jaeger #levi heichou #carla jaeger #ymir #historia reiss #annie leonhardt #nile dawk #let there be light #prince au #i love my son

61 notes · View notes