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chrollogy · 5 months ago

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iv. NEW YEAR BLUES

miya atsumu x f!reader

── next: v. Misunderstandings | series masterlist

synopsis: After sending a risky text to Atsumu, you avoid your phone the next morning like a ticking time bomb until curiosity gnaws at your skin but it doesn’t take long before you cave. Thus, with a bated breath, you brace yourself for his response.

chapter content warning: college au, angst heh, shrine visit (poor depiction), implied alcohol use, tipsy reader (maybe a dumbass too), miya atsumu is an even bigger dumbass, hinata mention LMAO, mutual pining, slow burn, requited unrequited love, miscommunication (it just got even worse. rip.), not beta read.

word count: 4.1k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. woweeee one more chapter and then we’re done ehehehehe >:)

It was quarter to two.

The mellow hum of Hyōgo’s early winter morning settled into Atsumu’s bones like a pair of invisible shackles, holding him hostage between the borders of sleep, and sobriety. On other nights, it lulled him to slumber without any problem but not tonight, not when his mind was plagued with thoughts of you.

Out of all times, his brain decided to recount every single moment with you from the trip. First, it was the happy, mellow memories of the first day—stolen glances full of yearning, his crimson-tinged cheeks, and fluttering heartbeats, and then came the uncomfortable haze that drove a wedge between the two of you. God, Atsumu didn’t even want to think about that moment on the boat.

Atsumu was fully aware that you knew his response was a complete lie but could you really blame him? What difference would it have made if he said ‘yes’? At the end of the day, what he felt for you was one-sided, nothing was going to change the fact that you only viewed him as a friend.

In fact, maybe this wall between the two of you was the cure to his yearning heart—a space to help him move on, and forget the familiarity of loving you.

As Atsumu’s caramel gaze bore into the ceiling above, tracing the moonlit glow that seeped from the window, his phone illuminated the dark room for a brief second, a tinge of blue catching his attention.

Mindlessly reaching for his device that lay on the wooden nightstand, he let out a tired sigh, honeyed eyes squinting at the sudden brightness that invaded his vision. Letting his eyes adjust, Atsumu carefully read the notification banner on the lock screen.

It was a message from you. His heart violently stuttered. Thank goodness for the tight grip he had or else his face would’ve been aching from his phone falling on it.

As if on instinct, Atsumu sat up, clearly sobered up from the fact that you texted him at almost 2 AM. Were you perhaps also having trouble sleeping? Atsumu wondered if your mind was also filled with thoughts the past few days��thoughts of him. He could only fantasise.

The blonde positioned himself against his headboard before clicking onto your message with a shaky digit, and a thundering heartbeat.

It was an absurdly long paragraph.

‘hey. i know you’re asleep right now, and you’ll probably see this in the morning but whatever :) . .’

Atsumu swallowed thickly. For some reason, he felt oddly nervous about this message but at the same time, anticipated the context behind it. Maybe you were trying to salvage whatever was left of the friendship? Or maybe you just wanted to cuss him out with a long, detailed message.

Nonetheless, Atsumu kept reading,

‘. . . i’m not going to beat around the bush or anything so i’ll get straight to the point. i like you. i’ve had feelings for you since highschool and i know it’s cowardly of me to confess over text but i don’t mind being called one.

god, i cannot even remember the feeling of my heart acting normal around you. my heart is so painfully familiar to yearning for you that it hurts. whenever i see you, i just can’t seem to act right. i hate how my heart stutters, how my cheeks heat, how my body suddenly doesn’t know how to act normally. it’s bittersweet because i feel guilty for falling in love with a close friend but also i’m not ashamed of it because you’re so amazing, and caring.

i cherish you a lot, tsumu, i really do and i know you do too but i don’t think it's in the way i want you to. i’m not pressuring you for an answer or anything because i already know you don’t like me back but that’s okay. i don’t know what will happen after this but just know that i really admire our friendship.

like i said before, you don’t have to reply to this. i just really needed to get all the pent up feelings out of my chest so i can finally move on :) just give me some time to be myself again.’

One word. Speechless. Miya Atsumu was speechless.

There were so many goddamn emotions that ran through every single fibre of his body to the point where his brain couldn’t process it all. Atsumu didn’t know whether to be ecstatic with the fact that—holy shit—you reciprocated his feeling, or to be frustrated with the fact that you thought it was one-sided.

His heart hammered against his chest, the pounding of it reaching his very ears. He was so fucking nervous that he breathed through his parted lips, honeyed eyes re-reading every single word you typed. The winter chill that filled his room went awfully warm, mirroring the crimson tinge that painted his cheeks.

So he was the one you were talking about back then; that drunken confession where you told him you had feelings for a certain someone.

Atsumu didn’t know what to do—didn’t know what to respond.

In all honesty, you put him in a very tough spot. How was he supposed to respond after confessing your feelings but also stating that you did not, in fact, sought an answer. Not to mention how you practically put words in his mouth.

Who were you to decide if Atsumu reciprocated your feelings or not?

The blonde took a deep, shaky breath, palms sweating as he gripped the device. Atsumu knew he needed to respond with a calculated mind��as tempting as it was, he wasn’t going to let his heart lead this time.

Not when his mind painfully reminded him of the conversation you two had,

“I don’t even think I’m ready for a relationship.” “So . . yer jus’ gonna confess for the sake of movin’ on? Even if he likes ya back?”

He vividly remembered the way you solemnly nodded to his question, a sad, subtle smile lingering on your lips as if to reassure yourself that you’ll be okay.

Atsumu closed his eyes, letting the sounds of crickets chirping outside consume him. The gears in his head turned, and turned, working overtime to come up with a response. He had to be sensible, whatever he replied was surely going to change the course of your bond, forever.

Though, there was only one thing he knew—to respect your decision.

The morning came rather quickly, early rays peeked through your window, mellow hues of yellow, and orange painted the ivory walls of your room to cast a warm, inviting glow—a reminder of the impending day ahead.

As you reached for your device to check the time, you were greeted with a black, unlit screen, your sleepy reflection staring back. Oh, that’s right. You had turned it off right after sending that risky text message to Atsumu, wanting nothing to do with it.

Vivid memories of last night came flooding in, filling every corner of your mind. All the words you typed down, the feelings that came with it, the hammering of your heart—it came back to you, and now, you were twice as nervous. You wondered if Atsumu had already read your message, even more curious about his response—if he did send one back.

Just thinking about it made your head dizzy. There was a ray of hope tucked neatly at the bottom of your heart, it wasn’t big but you held onto it like it was the most precious thing.

You let out a sigh, and tossed the device on your bed before getting ready to brave the winter day ahead. There were four more days before the new year rolled around—how you were going to spend the last two days heavily depended on Atsumu’s response.

It was inevitable. Every now, and then, your eyes mindlessly wandered to the device that lifelessly lay atop your sheets, its blackened screen inviting you to turn it on. You turned your room upside down for anything to distract you from the silent beckoning of your device—from re-reading your favourite manga to blankly staring at the ceiling above.

There was even an urge to read a syllabus from one of your new classes this coming semester.

Four hours. You lasted four dreadful hours before curiosity settled into your skin like a painful bite—no matter how much you ignored it, it seemed to worsen.

And with a hammering heartbeat, and sweaty palms, you turned it on. Patiently waiting, you watched as it displayed the brand logo, and then a few seconds before it loaded your lock screen. A heartbeat passed as the device showed several notifications from last night, and this morning. Disregarding them, you scrolled straight down until Atsumu’s message notification came into view.

You sucked in a breath.

The thread of messages between you two quickly popped up as you clicked on the notification. Bracing yourself, your eyes wander down to the start of his response—god, it was equally as long.

It was sent at 2 AM. It made you even more nervous after realising that Atsumu was indeed still awake when you had sent the message.

‘hey :) first of all, i’m very thankful that you had the courage to bring this up to me so please don’t call yourself a coward, i know how hard it is to try and confess to someone. i find it admirable, really. i think it’s brave of you to decide something like this.

secondly, i am over the moon after finding out you have feelings for me. it feels such an honour to be loved by a close friend so thank you again for letting me know. like you said, i, too, cherish our friendship. i don’t know what will become of our bond after this but just know that i am very glad to be friends with you.

thirdly, as you’ve mentioned in your message, i don’t feel the same way. .’

You stopped reading to stare at the ceiling above, a foolish smile plastered upon your lips—it conveyed anything but happiness.

Oh.

So, you were right. Atsumu didn’t feel the same way.

That little bundle of hope deep inside your heart disappeared, dissolving into nothing but what seemed like distant memories—memories of your saccharine moments together.

God, you already had a feeling he didn’t like you back but why did it feel like a hard slap on the face? As if reeling you back into dull reality after a haze of fantasy. This was what you wanted, right? To confess with rejection in mind so you could finally move on. But now that the answer lay right before you on a silver platter, why didn’t you want to move on?

You mustered every single bit of your strength to read the rest of his message, vision becoming blurry as tears slowly formed.

‘. . . you’re such a great friend. don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful both inside and out but my feelings for you are just platonic. i’m really sorry that i don’t reciprocate your feelings. i don’t know how much this will affect you but just know that if you want me to stay away, i will. it’s the least i can do to help you move on.

you’re an amazing person, and there are a lot of other guys out there who deserve you so much but i am not one of them. again, thanks for letting me know.’

You didn’t even realise hot tears started rolling down your cheeks until it hit the screen with a soft sound, one by one, droplets of tears scattered the surface of your device as if to wash away all of Atsumu’s words

A weird feeling blossomed in your chest, extending its sharp roots down to your stomach where it painfully planted itself. The grip on your phone tightened, other hand clutching—clawing—at your heavy heart, wanting to take it out from the confines of your ribcage and mend it with your own shaky hands.

Everything felt completely still, birds that hummed their usual morning song were no more, mellow sounds of the city became distant as you let yourself wallow in complete sadness.

It was odd, you felt nothing, and everything at the same time—the ugly feeling in your chest, the sting behind your eyes, the impending headache from your stuffy nose. Atsumu’s words repeated inside your mind, plagued it like an invasive plant which invited more pain to your strained heart.

‘I don’t feel the same way. My feelings for you are just platonic.’

It wasn’t just cupid’s stupid arrow agonisingly digging into the core of your heart, no, it also felt like he had wrung your heart dry with his bare hands, and he was laughing about it.

You felt like a fucking fool. Especially for hoping that somewhere down the line, Atsumu felt the same way.

The last two remaining days of the year were a complete haze, navigating through the last moments with a clouded mind, and an unmendable heart while putting on a brave face. And as the clock struck midnight on the 31st, you put on the happiest smile you could muster in front of your parents, and welcomed the new year with uncertainty. You tried not to think about Atsumu’s words but they were seared into your mind, a mocking reminder of your unreciprocated feelings.

It wasn’t long before the first morning of the new year greeted you with clear skies, and warm rays, paired with an early call from Suna. You already knew the reason for his call—of course, one cannot celebrate the new year without hatsumōde.

“It’s a surprise you picked up my call, you haven’t been answering my texts. Anyway, the twins, and I are visiting the shrine, coming?”

“How about Kita?” You asked. “He’s going with his grandmother tomorrow.”

With a sigh, you hesitantly agreed. It's only been two days since the confession, and you could already feel the awkwardness, and pain seeping into your bones. You knew you weren’t even ready to face Atsumu yet but you’ve never turned down a shrine visit from your friends, especially on new years.

Before you knew it, the crisp winter air engulfed your body. Clad in thick layers of clothes, you walked the quiet footpath to the local shrine, heart hammering against your chest with every step taken closer to your friends—to Atsumu.

His flaxen locks were easy to spot, standing out amongst the crowd of people with raven strands. Your heart violently stuttered but you kept your eyes on Suna, putting on a bright smile to greet them. They stood just before the grand torii gate which led straight to the shrine itself.

“Glad ya could make it.” Osamu greeted you with a hug, followed by Suna.

Throughout the whole exchange with the two men, you could feel Atsumu’s burning gaze on the side of your face, and god, was it an extreme sport to ignore it. The two didn’t notice the way you, and Atsumu awkwardly greeted one another—a tight-lipped smile, and a brief eye contact. You felt small, and naked under his honeyed gaze but it wasn’t anything intimate, you guessed this was the consequences of baring the contents of your heart two nights ago.

Tugging at the neckline of your clothes, you began to grow uncomfortable at the awkwardness that made itself known.

You weren’t going to lie, Atsumu looked devastatingly handsome as ever, and it pained your heart even more. Though, he had this familiar expression painted on his face—the one he always wore whenever he was upset about something. It was subtle but you noticed the way his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly, the light crease between his thick brows.

It was hard not to wonder what Atsumu was upset about.

After showing respect by bowing at the torii gate, the four of you fell into a step. Since it was the first day of the new year, the shrine was packed with families, friends, couples and people alike; some were at the chōzuya—water purification pavilion—to purify their body & mind while others were already lined up to pay respects at the main shrine building.

Keeping to the sides of the main path, You, Suna, and Osamu fell into a mellow conversation—talking about the new year ahead, and the upcoming semester. Surprisingly, Atsumu didn’t join in the conversation, hands tucked deep inside the pockets of his jacket, he stared hard at the concrete beneath.

It shouldn’t bother him but it did.

You were the one who got rejected so why was he more upset about the situation? Why were you able to easily slip into a cheerful conversation with Osamu, and Suna while acting like nothing happened two nights ago? Atsumu half expected you to not even turn up today, he had to practically stop himself from overreacting after the brunette stated you’d come.

Well, it was good that you were already moving on but whatever. Atsumu decided shoving away the weird feeling in his chest was the best option.

After doing the ceremonial purification rite at the chōzuya, the four of you headed at the back of the line for the main shrine. It didn’t take too long until it was your turn, Suna, and Osamu went ahead first which left you, and Atsumu to pair up.

Watching as your two friends prayed at the shrine, you dug your nails into the plush of your palms, awkwardness eating away at you. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes on both your’s, and Atsumu’s backs—as if they all knew what happened between the two of you a couple of nights back; it also didn’t help how you could practically feel Atsumu’s not-so-subtle stares from the side.

Sighing, you spoke to him for the first time since that moment at the boat, “If you’re uncomfortable with me, I’m more than happy to do it alone.”

You didn’t dare look at him, even when he fully turned to face you. It was dangerous, one look into his gaze, and you’d be a sobbing mess.

“It’s not that. It’s just . .”

Atsumu’s sentence trailed off as he noticed you walking up to the shrine. He closed his lips and silently followed, heart weighing heavy with every unspoken word that plagued his mind.

The two of you did the customs as usual: ringing the bell, tossing a 5 yen coin into the wooden saisen-bako, bowing twice, and clapping twice before praying. You, and Atsumu stayed still for a moment, eyes closed, and palms glued together to wish for good luck in the new year ahead. Ending the prayer with another bow, the two of you joined Osamu, and Suna.

“I saw ‘em distributin’ amazake. Wanna go grab some?” The younger twin pointed a thumb over his shoulder. His brother, and Suna agreed rather quickly, their throats bobbing at the mention of the sweet treat.

Feigning a yawn, you spoke up, “I think I’ll head home now. I didn’t really get much sleep last night.” This earned a unison of disgruntled sounds from Suna, and Osamu whereas Atsumu wordlessly looked over your way.

It wasn’t like you were lying, you really didn’t get much sleep, especially after waiting for the clock to strike midnight but it wasn’t like lack of sleep bothered you, no, it was the growing feeling in your chest the longer you spent time in Atsumu’s presence.

Bidding your friends a good bye, you headed home, each step taken away from Atsumu somewhat eased the strain in your heart.

Never in a million years would your old self believe that the feeling of being away from Atsumu brought a sense of comfort, a tranquillity in your heart. Albeit, not easy—nothing ever was when you’re taming a yearning heart—there were days where the urge to bask in his presence were strong, and there were days where you felt fine without Atsumu around.

Safe to say, your year started with the much dreaded new year blues.

Ever since the new semester started, you’ve busied yourself with assignments, weekly quizzes, and whatever else that allowed you to make several excuses just to not see Atsumu—whether it be movie nights at the twins’ apartment, afternoon library sessions, or simply just coffee runs with the group, you had an excuse

Before you knew it, it had already been a little over two weeks since you’ve confessed—two weeks since you last saw Atsumu at the shrine. Two weeks, and your feelings never wavered for him, not even once, that was the stubbornness you were dealing with.

“Whatever, I’ll come by your place tonight, and drag you out if I have to.”

You groaned, “Suna.” He said your name with an equally serious tone, his dulcet voice spilling from the speakers of your phone.

“You’ve been holed up in your room since forever, and we haven’t seen you that much. I miss you, the twins miss you, and Kita misses you. It’s just a few hours to let loose.”

“Isn’t it a bit too early in the semester to party? Also, Kita’s coming?” You tried your best to ignore the fact that your heart stuttered at the mention of the twins missing you. Atsumu missed you? Before you could pick Suna’s words apart, he spoke into the line,

“It’s not a party, just a small gathering with some familiar faces. And, no, he isn’t. He needed to work on an assignment.”

“I do, as well!” “Bullshit. I’ll see you at eight.” With that, he ended the call.

And that’s how you ended up in the twins’ apartment, lazily sloshing the alcoholic contents of your plastic cup. You don’t recall the amount of drinks you’ve drank but it sure was enough to have your head spinning.

There were familiar faces here, and there—which you took time to greet every single one—and some foreign faces. You assumed most of the people here were Atsumu’s teammates from the university team with how close they were with the blonde.

In all honesty, you had absolutely no idea as to why the twins were even hosting this gathering, it was so out of the blue. Though, you did hear an orange-haired male loudly exclaim to Atsumu at how much of a genius he was for organising a gathering this early into the semester.

So, it was Atsumu’s idea all along.

“Y’know, you can just talk to him, right?”

Suna’s slurred voice unceremoniously pulled you out of your trance, shifting your attention over to him. “What do you mean?” You coughed, cheeks heating, trying to hide the fact that Suna just caught you shamelessly staring at Atsumu who conversed with the orange-haired male. He sat beside you, body far back into the couch, narrow eyes fighting the sleep that slowly overtook him.

You didn’t like how your mind instantly agreed with his sentence.

The brunette let out a humourless chuckle but didn’t elaborate further, instead, he pulled out his phone to mindlessly scroll on it. Narrowing your eyes at him for a brief moment, you shifted your gaze back to the blonde, he had a big smile on his face, a tinge of crimson across his cheeks.

God, even under the shitty lighting of their apartment, Miya Atsumu still looked handsome as ever.

You stared at him for a moment, heart hammering against your chest, limbs tingling at the sudden urge to walk up to him. Oh, this was a very dangerous game you were playing, especially with the alcohol in your system. Your mind yelled go, go, go but you knew better than to play with fire, right?

Wrong.

In a heartbeat, you were on your feet, taking slow strides over to Atsumu. The sober part of your mind screamed at you to turn around, and sit back down but the tipsy part of your mind was stubborn—you wondered if it took after your heart.

The sudden urge to talk to Atsumu was fuelled by nothing but liquid courage—all the worries in your mind were magically solved; the weight that pulled your heart down was gone, and suddenly, it didn’t seem like a bad idea to even talk to him.

Deep down, you knew you were playing a very dangerous game right now but you couldn’t care less. Not when your heart pulled you closer to him.

As you neared, Atsumu cut the conversation short with his friend, and stared at you with expectant eyes, brows sky high in surprise. He sucked in a breath as you looked up at him through your lashes, the corners of your lips subtly turned upwards. Heart pounding, he shifted his weight from one leg to another as he waited for you to speak first,

“‘Tsumu, can we talk?”

Atsumu’s knees almost gave out upon hearing his nickname roll off your tongue, an icy shiver running up his spine.

—

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skzdarlings · 3 months ago

Text

the kingsguard ; jisung x reader ; part iv

pairing: han jisung/reader summary: You are a queen. He is a kingsguard - a member of a holy order that vows to defend the king in the name of the gods. They forsake all earthly goods and swear a vow of chastity to avoid all worldly temptation. When he stands in as proxy for the royal wedding, all those vows are tested.

content info: reader described with curly hair.

content warnings: the previously established story dynamics are prevalent in this chapter, please proceed at own discretion.

chapter word count: 12000 words.

Your body inevitably surrenders to its exhaustion. You sleep through the sunrise and past noon, opening your eyes to a day gone by. The deep gold of afternoon sunlight fills the room like a dreamy mist.

The golden shade obscures all your worries. You forget where you are. You forget who you are. You feel well-rested and well-loved, a warmth blossoming in your heart, reminiscent of a hopeful spring in this rotting hot summer.

You are brought back to reality by voices outside your door. You sit up in bed, straining to hear.

“—had me ride ahead to see the queen was safe.” That voice sounds like Changbin. You have only heard him speak a few times but he has a recognizable pitch, not to mention his tone when he says, “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Jisung replies. He sounds tired. You can only imagine what he looks like. Did he sleep at all?

There is a beat of silence. Maybe Changbin is waiting for more, but Jisung is not forthcoming.

“Did something happen?” Changbin asks.

“Huh?” There is some clattering as Jisung moves. “Yeah,” he snaps, in a tone more agitated than you have heard from him. “Someone tried to kill the fucking queen.”

“Hey, watch your tone with me. I know that, but you—”

Changbin stops halfway through his sentence. Jisung’s expression is evidently enough to quiet him.

There is some more movement, the swish of fabric, then Changbin says, “Go change into clean robes. Take a nap. I’ll guard the queen.�� When you’re done, I’ll ride back to the others and report. We should all arrive by nightfall—”

“I’ll ride back,” Jisung says, his voice and footsteps already sounding farther.

“Hey!” Changbin hollers. “You need to rest!”

There is no reply. You hear the creak of booted steps on the stairs, then Jisung is gone.

“Be careful with my horse!” Changbin shouts. “Ahhh, if he leaves her in the woods…”

Changbin keeps muttering even though Jisung is long gone.

You sink into the blankets.

It does not matter how far he goes. Not the shade or the sunlight or the mist can hide him. Even when you close your eyes, he is there, looking back at you. In a few short days, Han Jisung has inextricably twined himself around your heart. You don’t love him yet, but you could. You want to love him. That warmth in your heart is him, a blossom unfolding in the spring of your new becoming, but it aches – not because a love is ending, but because it can never begin.

Jisung has saved you yet again. He took care of you last night, disregarding himself as he has done before. You want to chase after him, swear new vows to him alone. You would give anything for him to experience the same devotion he has bestowed upon others. You want to fly out of this bed and saddle a horse, chase after him, find him in the woods and –

And what? That plan did not work last time.

You linger in bed for a long time, awake but nonetheless dreaming, pondering:

You. Your duty, your family, your people. The king. The marriage, the cruelty, the wedding bed.

Jisung. His eyes, his voice, his everything.

Hunger finally lures you out of the covers. You dress yourself in the gown gifted by the innkeeper’s wife. When your hair is pinned up as neatly as possible, you step into the corridor and greet Changbin. You go downstairs and the innkeeper prepares you a meal. You eat by the unlit fire, the same place you sat with Jisung last night, before –

Your whole body burns when you think about it. Whether you are with the king or on your own, you doubt you will ever touch yourself without thinking of Jisung and last night.

“Is the food all right, Your Majesty?” Changbin asks. His nose crinkles as he looks down at the bowl, as if he expects to find the source of your misery there. “It smells all right.”

“Oh, yes, it is,” you say. You suppose morosely poking at a bowl is bad manners.

The inn is bustling with workers preparing for the royal arrival. When you finish eating, you find the innkeeper’s wife and ask for something to do. Though she says the queen should not lift a finger, you insist that you prefer to stay busy. You tell her you have genuine technical skills and she relents, perhaps seeing the sincerity in your pleading. You do not want to sit in silent thought right now.

That is how you find yourself with the mending. Changbin loiters nearby, not hiding his boredom very well. He starts lifting random objects to exercise his already-ample muscles. He tries to challenge himself but it loses novelty quickly as there is nothing especially heavy in the room.

You ask if he wants to sew with you. He gives you a wary look but takes a seat. You show him some basic stitches.

“Kingsguards don’t do their own mending, I suppose,” you say.

He furrows his brow with concentration. He has thick fingers and struggles to thread the needle, but he cheers for himself like the winner of a game match when he succeeds.

“Ah, no,” he eventually answers, stabbing the needle into a torn shirt. “The squires take care of it. I haven’t touched a needle since my training.”

You chat about his time as squire for the kingsguard. Unlike Jisung, Changbin comes from a noble family, though he is the youngest of ten. Knowing he would never see a penny of inheritance nor an acre of land, he devoted himself to the gods. He claims beyond prayer, his only real skill is crushing skulls.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” you say, resuming your own mending now that he is easily sewing on his own. “You’re quite the seamstress.”

He giggles. That bubbly laughter in that bulky body makes you laugh too.

“Well, it never hurts to have more skills,” you say. “And I don’t think any work is beneath anyone. If you don’t take care, you may forget just how much effort goes into menial tasks.”

“Hmm.” Changbin looks thoughtful. “Yes, that does happen.”

The day passes with a few chores and some conversation. The sun begins its descent sooner than later. You are eating supper when the royal party arrives.

You promptly lose your appetite.

You and Changbin wait in the front room while the party loudly organizes itself outside. The contrast of quietude makes it feel like there is a bubble around the room – weak, vulnerable, about to burst.

Changbin looks at you sideways. He has spoken freely this afternoon and appears to debate whether he should question your wellbeing as a person or stay silent as a kingsguard. He rocks on his feet, fist curled around his sword hilt. His mouth opens with a question when the door swings open.

Chan enters first. He and Changbin exchange a nod, then Chan bows to greet you. “Your Majesty,” he says.

He moves aside swiftly. The king enters right behind him. Your knees knock but you conceal your fright, hoping your queasiness does not show on your face.

“My queen,” the king says. His tone is warmer than usual. He has only ever addressed you with open contempt, but now he approaches you with his hand outstretched and a respectful dip of his head. “The gods have surely blessed you to survive such a trying ordeal.”

You flinch when he grabs your face, though he does not strike you. That would have been less surprising than the kiss he places on the top of your head.

He drops his hands and walks away without another word, leaving you standing there in shock.

The other kingsguards follow. Minho does not show much expression but Hyunjin rolls his eyes at the king’s display. His aggravation seems as red hot as ever, barely concealed as he bows appropriately. When he rises, he gives you a look, one you can only describe as a warning.

Your shock settles. Maybe it is not strange the king is acting nice. He would not want anyone to suspect him of your assassination attempt. Feigning affection for his wife would redirect the accusations.

Hyunjin and Minho move along. Seungmin and Jeongin bow next. You wait but Jisung does not show, just an array of courtiers and servants that have been travelling in the retinue.

“Wife,” the king says, though bellows and commands is more appropriate. “Sit. Eat.”

You do not have an appetite. You sit beside the king as he glowers and mutters complaints about everything and nothing.

Part way through the meal, Jisung arrives. He makes some excuse to Chan, something about minding his horse after its ordeal.

You stare at Jisung across the room. He shakes out his robes, brushing a few twigs of hay from the black cloth. His dark hair is pushed back, his face open as he turns his face to the room.

He catches your eye before anyone and anything. Your heart reacts with an eager leap.

Last night was overwhelming. You remember his desperation towards the end. You can only imagine what was on his mind. You have spent all day in turmoil, alternating between reassurance and berating yourself. Perhaps he just needed to decompress, or perhaps he regretted ever telling you a word, that he would prefer to never look upon you again.

He looks at you now and you realize that was nonsense. It is the same roving, intense stare as last night, one that moves like a hungry touch. You shiver even though the heated room is packed full.

The king pays him no mind, engaged in conversation while he eats. Jisung bows from across the room and it is only for you.

He does not look at you after that, sitting with the other kingsguards while he eats his meal. When it is over, the king asks for music so Jisung fetches his guitar. His singing soothes your anxious spirit. It is so calming after so much turmoil, your eyelids start to feel heavy.

You fall asleep to his music. You wake to a gentle touch on your shoulder, finding yourself slumped over the table, head on your folded arms, a very un-queenly pose. You surface groggily, blinking slowly up at the guard who touched you.

It is Minho. The front room is empty except for the innkeeper, some servants, and two kingsguards chatting, evidently manning the front door. The king is gone, perhaps already to bed. You sigh with relief as hopefully that means he will not bother you.

Minho has been assigned to guard you tonight. He sweeps through your room, checking the windows and locks, but thankfully does not stay inside. You prefer privacy, though you would not mind if it was Jisung, even if it is dangerous to think that way.

Yes, very dangerous, as you close your eyes and imagine his dark eyes, watching you from across the room. You kiss your fingertips and touch your neck, just like he showed you, feeling that tell-tale flush of warmth when you imagine his lips on your throat. Your body feels tight, everything from your waist below clenching inside.

Your hand slips under the covers. You do not think of the king even once, all your thoughts rivetted to Han Jisung. You follow the natural call of desire, going so far as to curl your fingers inside yourself. You dare only a little touch but it still makes you gasp. You bite your lip to stay quiet, even though you want to scream a certain name when you stroke the place he showed you and come apart with the same earth-shattering release. You picture his face the entire time, specifically the dark and desperate way he looked at you when you put your fingers in your mouth.

You do it again, imagining those fingers are his, imagining kneeling in front of him like you desired last night. You take your fingers to the knuckle and wonder what he would say, what he would do. Just watching you made him blaspheme, the gods on his tongue as his whole body shook with a deep breath.

You fear you may be an insatiable, lecherous creature on top of irredeemably sinful, as you lower your fingers and do it all over again.

You whisper his name as you come over that crest of pleasure. It sounds like a prayer in the quiet dark.

A long day of travel looms ahead of you. You do not want to give the king any excuse to berate you, so you rise early and dress quickly without assistance. You intend to be the first downstairs.

You open your door without warning, causing the guard to stumble backwards because he was leaning on it.

The guard is no longer Minho.

Jisung spills into your path, eyes flashing with surprise. You are surprised too. The guards must have traded posts overnight, allowing the first group to get some sleep.

Of course, no one thought anything of assigning Jisung to your room. No one would have reason to believe you would stand like this in the doorway, staring at each other so intently.

You make no sound, just the gentle exchange of breath, but your heart races towards him in a noisy stampede. Given how he leans towards you, as if enthralled in a spell, his own heart is doing the same.

“Ah, uh, Your Majesty,” he finally says, sweeping into a bow.

His dark hair falls over his face. Unable to resist the soft allure of each dark wave, you touch the back of his bowed head. It is a soft, quick caress of your fingertips.

He makes a wounded sound. When he stands, his face is flushed.

“Are you, ah, ready for me to take you?” he asks. His eye twitches. He clutches the hilt of his sword very tightly. “Downstairs,” he says quickly. “Are you ready for me to take you downstairs? Yes. That.”

You nod. You have not spoken a word out loud, but you suspect your gaze gives you away, because Jisung looks into your eyes and makes that same sad whimper before darting down the corridor.

“Downstairs,” he says, a sing-song as he scuttles down the stairwell. “Downstairs, downstairs, la la—”

The king arrives while you are having breakfast. Before long, you are gathered outside the inn, preparing to travel. There is a long stretch of countryside between this city and the capital. The next few nights will be spent camping in the woods, then you will arrive at the capital city and stay at an inn, then finally traverse the great city to the palace.

You are not sure what fate awaits you there. It seems so impossible and far away, but the interim is only a handful of days.

You stand on your own, watching the activity around you, anxiously twisting your fingers around the sleeve of your dress.

In the midst of the hustle, your eyes find Jisung. He is adjusting his saddlebags, surreptitiously glancing at you from a distance. If anyone caught him looking at you now, you fear they would see far too much of everything. Those eyes betray him every time. Right now you see anxiety burning in them. Perhaps he is picturing what you are picturing: that you will have to ride with him, your back pressed to his front, and you will not be able to think of anything except the other night.

You make your way over to him. He turns his attention to his saddle, securing and re-securing every strap, rein, and buckle. He keeps his eyes occupied and his hands busy, even when you finally step into his periphery.

“Jisung,” you say.

“Hmm?” He tightens a strap he just loosened.

“Is it all right if I ride with you?” you ask.

“Of course!” he says, his voice bright and joyful, like a bard entertaining a crowd rather than a man in conversation.

“I just thought I would ask, in case there was a problem,” you say. You get more anxious the longer he does not look at you.

“That’s nice,” he says, in that same boisterous tone. “But why would there be a problem, ha-ha?”

He steps away, circling the horse to adjust something on the other side. You blink at the empty air then follow. The horse dips its head you so you take a second to stroke its muzzle. To anyone passing, you and Jisung look perfectly occupied and uninterested in each other. Truly, you can feel the distance straining. You step a little closer.

“Can you look at me please?” you say softly.

His frantic hands finally stop their fluttering. He looks the other way. It is towards the king’s carriage where the other kingsguards are organizing.

In the blink of an eye, that cheerful bard disappears and a much more solemn character stands before you.

“No, Your Majesty,” Jisung speaks in a low voice. “Not when you’re this close to me.”

It is good he has the sense to look around, because you forget about everyone but him. You are rooted to the spot, unblinking and not breathing. It comes in a shallow gasp at last.

“Why not?” you ask.

His brow furrows with utter confusion, like he cannot fathom the question because the answer is so obvious.

“You know why,” he says.

You are not sure how religious you are anymore. You have drowned in the silence of the gods. When Jisung says those words, this quiet but honest acknowledgement that he is just as affected by this power between you, you feel a force of nature rise within you. It is the closest sensation to the breath of the gods, the supposed life force they breathe into their chosen ones. It moves through you like lightning. You feel hot, dizzy, and not from the sun as it creeps towards its midday pinnacle.

You look at Jisung. He looks at nothing.

“Your Majesty,” Chan’s voice breaks the wall of intense silence.

You and Jisung both whip towards him. If Chan saw anything untoward in your nervous behaviour, he does not comment. He strides to you with the confident steps of an authoritative man. He dips smoothly into a bow. When he rises, one hand rests in a fist above his heart. The other sits on his sword hilt.

“As I’m sure you know by now, yesterday was not just a robbery,” Chan says, getting to the crux without wasting a breath. “Jisung is a very capable soldier but if there is another attempt on your life, the safest place will be with me. If it’s all right with you, Your Majesty, I would personally escort you to the capital.”

There is no reason to refute his request. Perhaps it is better you do not even try. With the intensity of the last few days, maybe it is better to let all these passions simmer. When they have burned themselves to ash, it will be easier to sweep them away.

“Of course,” you say. “Thank you, kingsguard.”

Chan guides you towards the front of the train. You do not look at Jisung until you are perched on the horse. You intend to merely glance over your shoulder, but he is staring intently and it locks your gaze on him. Fortunately, before it lasts too long, Chan swings onto the horse and blocks your view.

You let yourself settle near the kingsguard leader. All the while, you feel a different pair of eyes on you.

It feels like ages before you finally depart. After some time on the road, the others begin their chatter and sing-song. Jisung starts the singing, as is his wont. You wonder if anyone else notices how he starts the songs but never finishes them. As soon as the others begin their jovial singing, Jisung goes silent and remains quiet until prompted again.

You do not have to turn around to know his expression is solemn between bouts of entertaining giddiness.

Chan does not sing or chat much. He has a clear respect and even affection for his men, but he puts his duty first.

Chan is also better at keeping an appropriate distance between your bodies. Perhaps that is because the king’s carriage is close enough that you can catch a glimpse inside. Some of the king’s favourite courtiers ride with him, all of them adjusted to the uneven road as they play card games and drink while talking. You are sure some of their gossip is about you given the side glances and whispers.

You are not sure if Chan notices. You get periodically tense and he is close to you, so maybe he can tell. Perhaps that is why he lets his horse fall back just enough to lose view of the inside of the carriage.

With the king’s judgemental eyes no longer snapping towards you, you can breathe easier. You even dare start a conversation with the kingsguard leader, though it feels intimidating in its own right. Riding with Chan is not like riding with Jisung, and a conversation with the devout leader is very different than giggling with the bard.

“Why doesn’t the king want me to ride with Hyunjin?” you ask curiously. “He seems like a competent soldier.”

“Ah.” Chan laughs, a nervous little giggle. “He is. It’s, ah, not for any real reason. Really. Just that, well, Hyunjin is good-looking, I guess.”

“But he’s a kingsguard,” you say.

“Yes, he is,” Chan answers more seriously. “Honestly, I know the guys joke about it but… Hyunjin is one of the most devoted soldiers I have ever known. There’s a reason he’s in the order. He can’t really helps what he looks like, but whatever you hear: it’s not true. He’s good, Your Majesty. They all are.”

“I believe it,” you say. “I’ve never known a more loyal group of men. They live up to their reputation.”

“Yes, they do,” Chan says with obvious pride.

You were seeking the warmth that is now in his voice, the respect with which he clearly regards his men. It makes the real question inside you burn.

“May I ask something more serious?” you finally say.

“Of course, Your Majesty!” Chan says. “You can ask me anything.”

There is not a hint of insincerity there. You truly do believe Chan wants to do the right thing, but you are still wary in conversation with him. Chan is steadfast with his responsibilities. To him, the right thing will always involve the king in some capacity, so you cannot be as free as you were with Jisung.

“The matter does not necessarily concern me,” you explain.

“Hm, you’re the queen,” he answers. “If it’s about the kingdom, it’s to do with you. Ask me.”

He lends himself easily to trust. With his competency and sincerity, you see how he easily rose the ranks of the kingsguard. Jisung mentioned Chan was one of the youngest squires in history, setting records for length of time spent in training. Those years of study and prayer make him incomparable. He is the best and worst person to ask this question.

“The guard who ran off,” you say, “and the king’s former mistress… What will become of them?”

The king has not forgiven nor forgotten the treachery. It contributes to his constant stream of anger. You cannot imagine anyone, even this spoiled fool, possessing the energy to rant and rave so incessantly, but his passions will not be tempered. He has mused aloud all his gory desires, threats you know he will manifest if given the opportunity.

It makes you sick to your stomach. The details of the king’s fury are nauseating, not to mention your personal connection to the couple. You saw them with your own eyes. You saw their hope and their desire as they risked everything for freedom.

You know that Han Jisung was involved.

All those gory images dance across your mind like tableaus from some horrible play, too gargantuan and horrifying to be real life.

“Ah,” Chan says. Though he encouraged your question, he does sound a little hesitant now. “I understand. That was a… bad introduction to the kingsguard, I guess, wasn’t it?” he says. “We couldn’t spare the resources to search for them, not without delaying our return. The king wants to launch a kingdom-wide search once we are settled in the capital.”

“You’ll be the one in charge?”

“Well, I’m issuing it to Changbin and probably Minho, because I’ll have to attend to my usual duties. But I’ll oversee it. Why?”

“How much will a search like that will cost?” you ask.

The question surprises Chan. Perhaps he did not expect such a pragmatic question, but there is an emotional underbelly to your query. That is your family’s money the king will use to satisfy his own petty grievances, rather than putting it towards the kingdom he is sworn to protect.

“It won’t be nothing,” Chan finally admits.

“What purpose will finding them serve?” you ask.

You want to turn around and shout it: that the king is pursuing them to soothe his own damaged ego and not because they are any threat to the wellbeing of the kingdom. Surely, a man as capable and intelligent as Chan must know that.

You wonder how it must feel for this dedicated guard to be sworn to this type of king. He deserves better. Everyone does.

Chan bristles, hearing the unspoken accusation in your question. You feel his upright posture straighten even more.

“They broke the law,” he answers, his voice steadier than his body. “He broke his vows. She broke her promises. There are consequences.”

“Consequences?” you ask. “Or punishments?”

“Your Majesty,” he says, as sternly as he can without being rude. You suspect if you were a foot soldier, you would have been told to shut up. “The kingsguard is pure. When we give up our earthly goods, that doesn’t just mean literally, it means emotionally. We trade our present life for eternity. Everything we do, we do in service of the gods who provide for us. Then and only then can the kingdom thrive. A slight against the king is a slight against the gods. Corruption can’t be allowed to spread.”

“Corruption,” you say softly. “You truly believe in the king’s purity?”

When he does not answer right away, you look at him. He looks at the carriage. His brow is furrowed, his jaw set, looking very austere and cold. He softens his expression when you meet eyes.

“I think you’re a good kingsguard and a good leader, Bang Chan,” you say. “Your men are good and they put their faith in you as much as the gods. Whatever you believe, I will believe too.”

You know Chan will not speak ill of the gods-chosen king. You also know he will not commit a sin like lying. So when you ask if he believes in the king’s purity, you are not surprised there is no answer. He simply sighs as he turns his gaze ahead.

“Maybe we should talk about something else,” he says.

It is all the answer you need.

Your journey follows a river that flows to the sea, now behind you. The course ahead lays inland. Rest comes a few hours into travelling. It is at a clearing not far from the river. You can only just hear as it rushes and pours in a steady stream that leads far away from here.

Everyone mills about, stretching their legs or sitting in the shade, while some prepare food and share drinks. The king is with his courtiers, Chan close to him as usual. You sit near the remaining kingsguards, close enough to be guarded but not so close to make them uncomfortable. You know they will not speak freely in the queen’s presence so you grant them privacy.

It means they are distracted just enough, blind to the way you and Jisung lock eyes across the breadth of woodland space. After your conversation with Chan about the potential fate of the runaway lovers, you have fought to restrain all those deep, complicated desires. You are less committed to true obedience, resigned to your own tragedy if the king moves against you, but you cannot be so careless with Jisung’s fate.

It should be easy. You hardly know the man. But those dark eyes find you and see you, always right down to the core of you, and it is so difficult to wrench your gaze away.

Jisung turns first. He mutters something to Minho who is sitting beside him. Whatever he says makes Minho freeze, a drink halfway to his lips. His eyes dart over to you.

Your back straightens, goosebumps rising, wondering what Jisung just told him. Whatever it is, Minho makes the same report to Seungmin who also looks your way.

Startled with all the attention, you resume focus on your idle task. You dug some embroidery tools out of your trunk, so you sit on a stump threading patterns with no particular end design in mind. It is just way to look and feel busy. Your loneliness is less acute when occupied with a familiar task.

You are disrupted by the crunching of the dirt path under booted steps. You lift your head, gaze travelling long dark robes until you meet Seungmin’s eyes. Seungmin is not exactly the friendliest, but there is an honest simplicity to him. He does what he must, when he must, and he does it well, with no subterfuge or obfuscation of true intent. So he must mean it very sincerely when he tips his head towards the circle of guards, clearly inviting you to join them.

“Your Majesty,” he says. “The kingsguard would be honoured by your company.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised.

Seungmin does not leave time for argument, taking your embroidery out of your hands and offering his arm. You accept it blindly, ushered along before you can think twice. You are soon seated, this time a part of the kingsguard circle. You take a seat between Seungmin and Hyunjin.

Seungmin returns your tools once you are settled, skirts neatly arranged around you. The boys continue their conversation while you work, a tenderness and warmth in your heart that was not there before.

“I can do that too,” Changbin says, pointing to your embroidery. It makes Hyunjin spray his drink everywhere, the others similarly laughing. “I can!” Changbin protests. “Tell them,” he says to you. “Tell them how good I am.”

“Tell them, Your Majesty,” Jeongin reminds him, nudging him with an elbow.

“You don’t have to call me that,” Changbin jokes, ruffling the youngest’s hair.

“Yes,” you say. You laugh at their antics, but lay a hand on your heart and declare with teasing solemnity, “It’s true. Kingsguard Changbin is quite a natural with a needle, I must swear it so.”

Seungmin whistles, the others still chuckling.

“I believe it then,” Hyunjin says, a twinkle in his eye. “If the queen swears it, it must be true.” There is a hint of seriousness to the proclamation, a knowing glance cast aside. “It’s easier being a queensguard when the queen is true.”

Though it is not unusual to refer to the kingsguards as queensguards in relative context, it is rarely done, and certainly no one has said it yet. You suspect this king would not be so partial to acknowledgement of shared power. Any reminder of your own latent holiness just angers him.

Not to mention, while Hyunjin does not mention the king directly, the proclamation it is easier to guard a true monarch nonetheless carries a hint of accusation.

You say nothing to refute nor encourage the claim, anticipating someone else may correct or shush him.

Instead, Minho tips his cup in your direction.

“Mm, hear to that,” he says casually, before taking a sip.

“To the queen,” Jisung says, lifting his own cup too.

Your gaze flies to him. He smiles from across the circle, his arm outstretched and his cup tilted towards you. Strange to say you have missed that sincere smile after so short a time, but you have, and it moves you more than the toast. It reminds you of the first time you saw him, the first time he saw you in turn, when he stood above a crowd and sang to you across hundreds of people.

The other guards follow his prompt. They lift their cups and take a drink, leaving you more than a little flustered.

“You’re the queen,” Seungmin says with that wide, cheeky smile, lightly nudging you with his elbow. “You’ll have to get used to this.”

You find it unlikely anyone but the kingsguard will ever toast to you, but you smile and express your gratitude.

Conversation has scarcely resumed when Chan comes stomping over. His agitation ripples like rings in a disturbed pool of water, spreading to his men who are follow his flow. They all sit straighter, looking at him for orders.

Chan, clearly frustrated, just huffs and takes a seat.

“Jeongin,” he says. “Go stand guard over the king.” He unwraps some food and takes a bite, shaking his head all the while. His irritation clearly gets the better of him because he mutters through his teeth, plenty loud enough for the others to hear, “I can’t listen to more complaining.”

“Is he mad about the weather again?” Changbin asks with a laugh.

“He’s the chosen one,” Minho says with a sly grin. “Why doesn’t he just make it less hot?”

Chan clears his throat loudly, though he doesn’t berate them beyond that.

“Jeongin,” he says, making a vague gesticulation in the direction of the king.

“Why do I have to go?” Jeongin asks, wearing a petulant pout that only the youngest could get away with. You suspect anyone else would have received a lecture, but Chan just gives him a look, eyebrow quirked, and Jeongin complies with a tired sigh.

“That’s what you get for eating so fast,” Seungmin says, earning himself a smack up the head as Jeongin passes him.

“He’s right,” Minho says. “You eat like a horse.”

“Whoa, hey, man!” Jisung says. “Don’t insult our horses like that.”

There is some more laughter. Jeongin shakes his head but his deep dimples show his amusement. You giggle too, though it is probably inappropriate to jeer and chortle with a group of guards, hiding it behind your palm. It is just too funny. You watched moments ago as Jeongin shoved a truly impressive amount of food in his mouth, all but unhinging his jaw as he crammed it in like it was going to be taken away. The jokes are mostly to that effect as the youngest ambles over to the king for guard duty.

The conversations splinter after that, everyone more or less talking in pairs. You just listen while working on your embroidery. When Seungmin leaves to relieve himself, it opens an empty space between you and Chan. The others are engrossed in their conversations – and playful but rowdy debates – while Chan just smiles and listens. He occupies his hands with sharping the point of a dagger.

You shuffle closer to him. The motion catches his eye and he looks at you. Though your conversations on horseback were polite after the initial topic, he still looks wary, perhaps now recognizing the look in your eye.

“May I ask a question?” you ask.

“You know you can,” he says, though he looks even more concerned.

“It’s about the kingsguard vows,” you say. “I know you said it prevents corruption – but how? But why?”

“Why those vows?” Chan asks.

He picks up the sheath for his dagger, eyes there as he slides it back in place. The other guards notice his contemplative attitude, eyes flicking towards him then towards you. Their conversations trail off when Chan begins to speak.

“The kingsguard is an old service,” Chan says. “Almost as old as the kingdom itself. The gods chose favourites even before the palace had walls, and those favourites become kings, yes? But with palaces, and money, and power… comes corruption. There was a king who lost his way. He stopped listening to the gods. Sin and lust and anger: he let it conquer him. The kingsguard was formed to save him from himself and, when that couldn’t happen, to save the kingdom. The first kingsguard order burned all their clothes, put on the black cloth, and vowed to never be swayed by any temptation or sin. It is not an order you can just join. It is not a vow you just make. The king, your brotherhood, and all the kingdom rely on your sword. The corrupt king was executed by the kingsguard so the gods could choose another. Since then, there has been no need for intervention. It has been a perfect harmony for centuries. So we maintain the vows of those first kingsguards and so the kingdom stays in harmony and order.”

“So it is of utmost importance both the king and the kingsguard keep their vows,” you say.

There is a beat of silence, like Chan knows you are going to say something that will make his forehead throb, but he relents and says, “…yes.”

Rather than torment him with more implications the king is not pure, you ask, “What makes a sin?”

His shoulders fall with a sigh of relief, though it doesn’t last. His eyes dart over the other guards, aware they are waiting for an answer too.

He slowly turns to you and says, “Anything that distracts from the gods.”

“I see,” you say. You can feel the kingsguards looking at you, their attention moving between you and Chan as if watching the volley of an intense game match. It makes your skin prickle, sweat on your nape as you swallow your nerves. “Such as lust and anger, as you said?”

Their eyes flick to Chan.

“Yes,” Chan says.

Their eyes flick back to you.

“Yet I fear I feel the gods most strongly in the throes of such things,” you say. “The gods created all those feelings. I have spent much of my life suppressing the call of great emotion. Perhaps it is not a coincidence that since being chosen by the gods, I have felt their designs all the more powerfully.”

Their eyes practically bulge out of their heads. Chan just stares at you, barely even blinking.

“Perhaps the king does too,” you say, your voice light, like this is a simple remark. You draw your needle through the fabric, watching the colourful thread as you draw it heavenward. “Perhaps that is why his relentless wrath is considered a permissible action.”

Hyunjin makes a sound, a short, sharp cackle, throwing a hand over his mouth before it can grow. The others wear long faces, not daring to remark. Jisung is wide-eyed. When you glance at him, he tips his head, at once curious and concerned.

You tear your eyes away from him. You smile at Chan.

“Ah,” Chan says. “Well.”

“I think it might be the same for other so-called sins,” you say. “Lust for example. I think… I think it’s a lot like prayer.”

“I’m sorry.” Chan shakes his head rapidly back-and-forth. His eyes close in a painful wince. “Like.. like prayer?” He looks at you like you just smacked him. He probably would have preferred it. A kingsguard can take a hit, but you are not sure they are built to withstand the queen speaking like this.

“Yes,” you say, smiling. You look down at your embroidery, threading a little flower. “I think intimate intercourse is like praying. It is the highest expression of gratitude and love, showing appreciation for the life the gods have given you, and the appreciation of the life they have created in another. I think this can be turned into a sin, of course. When it is stolen, when it is forced, when it is coerced, when it is taken without care or consideration for the other… Yes, I believe this great gift can be corrupted. But I believe it can be the holiest of all earthly actions. I dare say there is no way to be closer to the gods.”

There is a long gap of silence. Hyunjin still has a hand over his mouth, like he doesn’t trust himself otherwise, and Jisung is still wide-eyed – and more than a little flushed. Tufts of dark hair are flicked up at the nape of his neck, a scarlet tinge to his complexion.

Minho and Changbin eventually say, “Wow.”

“Um.” Chan clears his throat.

“I know,” you say, smiling at him. “We should talk about something else.”

You focus on your embroidery, humming to yourself.

Seungmin returns and sits down in the silence. He looks around the quiet circle and lifts an eyebrow.

“What did I miss?” he asks.

Rest comes to an end. There is a bustle as everyone packs up and prepares to continue the journey. You will travel a few more hours, at which point the sun will begin its descent. You should reach the predetermined site to build camp before nightfall.

You wait near Chan’s horse, stroking its muzzle, lost in thought. You imagine what would have happened if you died yesterday. Would the king have the audacity to celebrate, even in the face of his solemn guards? His success might have emboldened him, made him feel justified, like the gods were on his side. You like to think his failure has tempered him, that he will take it as a sign of the gods’ disapproval, but you doubt it.

You spot Changbin in the middle of the crowd. He is helping the servants with some heavy lifting, packing cooking instruments back on the wagon. Chan looks like he will be another minute. While he is distracted, you wander over to Changbin.

Changbin puts the last piece of equipment on the wagon. A servant bows and thanks him profusely. Changbin grins and lifts the servant out of his bow. He winks, saying, “Ah, no work is beneath anyone! You don’t need to thank me.”

You smile as Changbin gives the flustered servant a friendly pat on the back. Of course, Changbin is quite strong, and the willowy servant stumbles, but it is still a sweet moment. Once confirming the servant is all right, Changbin approaches you and bows.

“Your Majesty,” he says. “Can I help you?”

Changbin is in a good mood. The kingsguards did not seem angry with your earlier words, just surprised, even amused. You think they just like to see their incorruptible leader so flustered.

“Not so much,” you say. “I just have something on my mind. Chan told me the king intends to launch a search for the missing guard and mistress. He said the primary duties may be relegated to you.”

“Ah.” Changbin’s eyes darken with the furrow of his brow. His grin disappears and he looks very morose. “Yes. Most likely. Do you have something to report?”

Flashes of that night play in your mind. You shiver as you suppress them.

“No,” you say. “I just – I have a great deal of respect for the kingsguard. This is a difficult situation for you all, I am sure. I just wished to make my allegiance to you known. In the event of any… complications.”

“Complications,” Changbin repeats.

“Yes.” You weigh your words very carefully. You can either win Changbin’s confidence or push him further away. “Like Chan said, the vows are so important, and your brotherhood relies so strongly on each other. I’m sure Felix meant a great deal to you, at a time. This must be very difficult.”

“Yes.” Changbin’s brow unfurrows, his face softening in a moment of obvious reminiscence. He seems to stare right past you, lost in some faraway thought. He sighs and runs a hand through his black hair, smooth strands falling back over his forehead. “Felix was a good man,” Changbin says. “You… remind me of him, a little. The things you say. Ahhh, this is all wrong.” He shakes his head, his expression pinched with frustration. “It shouldn’t be like this. I don’t like the idea of going after him.”

You restrain yourself, not leaping too eagerly at the brazen remark. With the well of emotion rising in your chest, you ask, “Then why do it?”

“Because those are my orders,” he says, like it is obvious.

“What if those orders are wrong?” you say.

“They’re the king’s orders,” Changbin says, not quite an argument, not quite an agreement.

“Yes,” you say. “And the king is heaven’s earthly sovereign, who rules us all by the will of the gods. But what if those orders are not actually coming from the gods?”

The king is close to you. Changbin sees him first, but too late to spare you.

The king shouts your name like it is a blasphemous slur. The scream is imbued with so much fury, it sounds as though he means an exorcise a demon right here, right now.

Although you told yourself you were resigned to his wickedness, the terror of that voice makes your whole body shake. Bravery is much easier in theory, a whispered voice in the back of your head that extends no further than stolen words in shadows, but it is different to stare down a hateful man whose cruelty knows no bounds.

You turn to face the king, grateful for the length of your skirt as it hides your trembling legs. You summon your many years of etiquette practice, feigning the most stoic countenance you possibly can.

The king gets right in your face, screaming so loudly it blows a loose curl out of its pin.

“You have the audacity to blaspheme against your king?”

A deathly hush has fallen over the forest, all conversations ended. You hear nothing but the shuffle of bodies as people either retreat or approach the action. Servants make themselves scarce, courtiers gathering with eager eyes. The kingsguards swarm, abandoning their horses and forming rank with a hand on their swords. You are not sure who they mean to protect.

Chan is the only one to directly intervene, shoving through the throng to reach the king.

“Whoa, whoa, Your Majesty,” he says, skidding to a halt, his black robes swishing around him. “What happened?”

“This blasphemous creature dared to question the will of gods before my people,” the king snaps.

“I did not,” you say, wrenching your voice from the nauseas pit of your gut. “I did not question the gods.”

“You have the nerve to call my authority into question?” the king asks, taking another menacing step forward.

You instinctively stumble back. Your gaze darts when you move, eyes finding the other kingsguards. Minho, Changbin, and the younger two watch the scene intently, hands on their sword hilts. Hyunjin has partially withdrawn his sword, hilt firmly in hand and a shiny length of silver catching the sunlight.

Jisung has one hand on his hilt but his grip is loose. He is the only one moving, taking tentative steps towards the scene. His wide eyes are concerned but not frightened, his shoulders tensed, entire body braced. A fist uncurls, hand lifting. You are not sure if he is reaching for you or warning you.

The king is still ranting. All he does is repeat the same accusation, hurl the same slander. There is a wretched delight to his snarling ire. Because of the assassination debacle, he has been forced to feign a modicum for respect for you. Your remark serves as justification for unleashing all that contempt once more.

He calls you every foul name a man can call a woman. No doubt you are also subject to his anger for the mistress. It makes your hands curl up in fists at your side. Your trembling body is building adrenaline with every quivering shake. You think of the mistress, of Felix, of Jisung, of a cluster of crying servants, of your own body slumped in a carriage with an arrow in your heart, when all you ever wanted to do was help your people.

“I would never speak ill of the gods,” you snap. Perhaps it is your shaking or perhaps it is heavenly intervention, but you feel your voice as it thunders out of you. It reverberates in the arching trees and quakes underfoot like an earthen tremor. “Even in moments of my greatest doubt, I use them as my example in how to conduct myself.” You speak loud but steady, looking the king in his startled eyes. “I would never speak against them. I would never act against them. I would never assume I have the perspective to rebel against their will. No matter how someone might offend me, I would not attempt to intervene on the god’s will by bringing harm anywhere near to them.”

Ostensibly, this is in retaliation to his comments – but everyone knows the attack yesterday was not just a robbery. No one is speaking the accusation aloud, but it sits on the tip of every tongue when the subject is broached. Yes, everyone here knows what the king has done, and when you make your declaration, it is all anyone hears.

Only one of you has kept your vows. Only one of you is righteous.

He backhands you, clean across the face. It lands even harder than on the wedding night. That slap burned like a hot iron welt, but this one drums like a storm. It knocks you to the ground, the earth rushing up so quickly that you cannot even catch yourself. Your cheek hits the dirt, your body crumpling on impact.

Your face is downturned but you hear the zinging slash of sword after sword as the kingsguards reveal their weapons. When you look up, you see every blade partially drawn. Hyunjin is the only one to fully draw his weapon, his sharp, intense face focussed on the king while the other guards look at Chan.

Jisung is the only one who looks at you. He does not draw his sword. His hand leaves his hilt and he runs straight towards you. He slams onto his knees with so much impact, it sends leaves and gravel flying. His hands are on you, shameless and without delay.

“Your Majesty,” he says. He holds your shoulders, guides you upright into a sitting position.

You can barely see him through your tears, watering from the sheer physicality of such brutal pain. You face is numb so you do not even realize Jisung is wiping it clean.

His efforts accomplish very little because the king kicks you over, a sharp jab in your side that makes you cry out. It is more unexpected than the smack and makes everyone gasp.

Jisung catches you, drawing you protectively into the cradle of his arms. You imagine his face, his wide, startled eyes turned up to the king in questioning terror as he clutches the queen to his chest. You fear he will be kicked for insubordination. You press against his chest and will the world to disappear to around him.

“Are you seriously going to allow this?” Hyunjin’s voice rips through the clearing.

You turn your face, cheek pressed to Jisung’s chest. Hyunjin has stepped forward but he does not address the king, anger bright red on his handsome face as he stares at Chan.

Chan looks at him but it is the king who answers, spinning on his heel to march up to Hyunjin.

Bellowing, the king begins, “The kingsguard does not allow or disallow me anything—”

“The kingsguard has a right to intervention in the face of injustice!” Hyunjin shouts back, driving his sword into the dirt a mere foot from the king.

It draws the man to a halt, a flicker of intimidation crossing his face as he looks at the guard. He quickly shakes it off, pointing a threatening hand at Hyunjin.

“What do you dare accuse me of?” the king demands. “Do you have the audacity to make so formal a claim against me? Tell me, kingsguard! Use your rights! Make your claim! And I shall make mine, rest assured!”

Hyunjin cannot say anything more. He stares at the king, fuming. Chan was not exaggerating when he spoke of Hyunjin’s devotion to his beliefs. More than a pretty face, indeed. He does not budge an inch for the tyrant king.

While the king is distracted, Jisung helps you up. You rise on shaking legs, using his arms for leverage. He murmurs your name, not your title, so soft an utterance that no one else hears. It affects you more deeply than the king’s shouting.

Your watery eyes lift to Jisung. You are clasping his forearms for support but you want to fall against him. Your heart and body both call to him. You are overwhelmed with the memory of being in his arms at your most vulnerable moment, bare and open and overcome. It makes you feel like if he is close, there is no height you cannot reach, no harm that can ever pursue you there.

With your eyes locked so reverently on Jisung, you do not see the king approach. You turn your face as he throws Hyunjin an arrogant, challenging look.

Then the king reels back and punches you. It is clumsy and too emotional, his anger getting the better of him, so it lands with less force than intended. You still feel it right down to your toes, a shock of awful pain. You are not sure what actually hurts, if he hits your nose or something else, but you taste blood, tangy and metallic on your lips and tongue. Jisung catches you when you fall, keeping you upright while you spit blood onto the forest floor. If anyone gasps, you cannot hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Hyunjin instantly explodes. He attacks the king with his bare hands, his swing far cleaner, a swift punch that strikes the royal face so hard, it makes a cracking sound. Hyunjin is lean but evidently strong because the king reels upon impact.

Hyunjin does not let him recuperate. He lands another blow, then one more, coming at a different angle each time. The king hits the ground on the third punch, landing with a humiliating scream and thud.

Everyone is chattering and shrieking now, even the most eager courtiers retreating from the violence. Minho and Seungmin spring into action, charging Hyunjin before he can chase the king to the ground.

“Hold him back!” Chan shouts at them. Like everyone else, pure shock delayed him.

Minho and Seungmin seize Hyunjin by the arms, hauling him away from the king while he froths with anger. The king recoils from him, then starts to rage because he has been humiliated. Hyunjin shouts back, so much piercing chaos that you hardly make sense of it.

“This ends now!” Chan shouts above it all. He does not need to draw his sword or swing his fist. Hyunjin finally goes silent, shrugging Minho and Seungmin away. Even the king ceases his hollering, spitting blood onto the ground.

Your own mouth is still streaked red. Chan looks at you, his hard expression softening.

“Your Majesty, are you okay?” he asks.

The king begins to answer, a furious exclamation that he is obviously not okay, then he realizes Chan is speaking to you.

“How dare you address that creature—” the king begins.

“That creature is the gods-chosen queen!” Chan shouts. Where Hyunjin and the king raged with a red hot fire, Chan is cold, the harsh narrowing of his eyes speaking for him. It cuts across the clearing. Everything, high and mighty or low to earth, seems to bend in acquiescence. “The queen is not to be struck under any circumstances,” Chan says sharply, a hand on his sword hilt, his eyes on the king. “I am making a formal accusation against you as I just witnessed the offense with my own eyes.”

The silence is more deafening than the chaos. You watch as Chan shakes his head. His booted steps roll like thunder on the dirt as he approaches you. His arm is outstretched, a word on his lips, but he interrupted by the king.

“I want him flogged.”

Chan freezes. His back is to the king and all the courtiers, guards, and servants. Only you and Jisung see the flash of fury, barely tempered as Chan clenches his jaw then draws a breath.

“The gods spoke to him,” Chan says, frighteningly calm. “They told him to defend the queen who should never have been struck so carelessly.”

“And for that I won’t have his head removed,” the king snaps. He spits blood on the ground again, looking at Hyunjin as he does. Hyunjin stares back but has the sense to not act again. The king lacks any and all sense. No sense of duty, no sense of responsibility. He points at Hyunjin like an infant points at a child, stamping his foot and crying to his parents of some petty, childish plight. “Twenty lashes,” the king demands. “Ten for each time beyond this so-called defense he dared laid his hand against the holy king.”

Chan turns. He looks at Hyunjin. Hyunjin stares back, a silent conversation unfolding in the space between them. You see the calculation, the surrender. Chan shakes his head and Hyunjin clenches his jaw.

Your hand twitches at your side, instinctively searching for Jisung. He finds it, clasps it, hiding your joined hands between his robes and your dress.

“Jisung,” you whisper.

“It’s all right,” Jisung whispers back. Despite his words, he sounds upset. “Hyunjin can take it.”

In proof, Hyunjin does not await further instruction. He rips at his outer robe, tearing it off his body and dropping it in a heap on the forest floor.

“Jeongin,” Chan says. “Get me a horsewhip.”

You jolt. Jisung squeezes your hand, holding you back, shushing you gently. You watch, heart in your throat, as Hyunjin tugs off his under-shirt. He drops to his knees where he stands, Minho and Seungmin backing away, their faces plastered with practiced stoic looks. Seungmin betrays only a hint of thought, shaking his head an infinitesimal degree as he backs away. Minho flashes Jisung a look of similar aggravation.

You still taste blood, even when you wipe your mouth with a shaking hand.

Hyunjin prostrates himself on the ground, a full bow as if at prayer. Chan has the whip in his hands and he snaps it open at his side. You do not know if your eyes water from pain or sorrow.

The king stands nearby, arms crossed, a smug look on his face. You look at him as Chan swings an expert arm and brings the whip down. The king does not flinch, his pompous self-satisfaction only deepening.

You jump at the crack of the whip, eyes racing back to Hyunjin. There is a welt across his skin, pale as it is never exposed beneath those layers of black. Despite all the jests made at his expense, Hyunjin does not remove those robes for anything. He keeps his vows with an unrelenting determination. He is a good kingsguard. It is not his fault he has a bad king.

“Stop,” you say.

Jisung tries to hold you back but you drop his hand. You are still dizzy and speaking with a mouth full of blood, but you march onward. The king is probably looking at you with all that heated aggravation but you do not care. You look at Chan, the only authority you respect.

“Hyunjin was defending me,” you say. “He acted on my behalf. I will take his punishment.”

There are immediate protests, not just from the kingsguards but from servants and even scandalized courtiers. Their vocal protestations make chaotic discord, the forest shaking with every shout and holler.

You hear Jisung above the rest.

“Chan!” he says. “Don’t you let her, Chan! Chan!”

You and Chan are the only ones who remain silent, staring each other down. You are perfectly calm, holding his gaze. He looks at you like he is reading a book in a language he did not even know existed, scrutinizing the shape and sound of everything that lies in front of him.

“Silence!” the king finally shouts, curtailing the worst of the chaos. He marches over to you, hand out like he intends to grab you. “Stand down, woman! You’ve caused enough problems today!”

You storm towards him too, wiping the blood off your face with such a flourish that it flicks towards him. He takes a step back, so surprised by your approach that he almost trips over his own feet.

“Am I not correct in saying that a citizen has the right to stand in for another when a punishment has been issued?” you ask.

“You are not a citizen, you fool, you are the queen,” the king snaps.

“Oh, so now there’s some fucking rules about propriety!” you snap back. “Punching me in the face did not account for it, but this does? I am curious where your lines are drawn, Your Majesty, and which gods drew them, as they certainly do not resemble any teachings I know.”

The look on the king’s face is more satisfying than any welt or punch.

“Enough,” Chan says, not raising his voice. He drops the horsewhip to the ground and Hyunjin lifts his head. “This has gone on long enough,” Chan says firmly. “We have a long journey to make today. This was a petty disagreement and a misunderstanding, and it is an insult to the gods and all of us present to draw it out any longer. Hyunjin, get up. You’ll spend the night in prayer asking the gods for forgiveness for any slights they perceived. Accept their revelation and be done with this. Everyone, back in formation. Now.”

Finally, the crowd disperses, speaking lowly amongst themselves as they return to their former tasks.

Chan faces the king. In the same tone, he demands, “You too, Your Majesty.”

The king boils with such a quiet, fiery rage that you are amazed he does not burst. Chan does not relent in the face of his threats, standing firm until the king storms away. Once he is gone, your own adrenaline cools. Your legs feel weak again. You stumble.

Jisung catches you. His arm swings wide, catching your waist and drawing you into him.

“She’s still bleeding,” Jisung says.

“Take her,” Chan says, nodding sharply. “Get cleaned up. Meet back at the horses soon. He’s not going to be in the mood to wait.” Chan rolls his eyes and turns away.

You and Jisung are the only ones left. You are standing too close to him, his familiar heartbeat pounding against yours, and you need to rip away but you want to be even closer.

Jisung takes a step, guiding you towards the sound of the river. When you try to separate further, he pulls you back into his side, that hidden strength revealing itself. Your feet only skirt the ground as he practically carries you the riverside, like if he lets go for a second the gods will sweep you away from him.

Jisung holds the briars as you cross through dense brush. The riverbank is on the other side. You step onto the gravel bed, breathing a sigh of relief as you feel separated from the world again at last.

Jisung touches your lower back, just a press of his fingertips to get your attention. It certainly works, sparks shooting up your spine as if he traced the length of it. But no, it stays there, palm on your lower back, nudging you towards the water.

Earlier, he could not bring himself to look at you. Now you are the one hiding your gaze. After a tumultuous day of warring with yourself, of provocations and retreats, accusations and regrets, you feel tired and unsure, hurt and embarrassed.

“What were you thinking?” Jisung asks.

You kneel at the same time, at the river’s edge, the cool fresh water lapping at the edge of his robe and your skirt. It is paid no heed. You gather water in the cup of your hands, bringing it to your face in a gentle splash. You close your eyes, relishing in the cool kiss of the stream. The water runs pink as it spills over your lips. You scrub your mouth on the sleeve of your dress.

“It doesn’t matter what I do, does it?” you ask. “It doesn’t matter if I follow every rule he makes or if I break them in front of him. He is going to hurt me. He is going to find ways to justify it.”

Jisung is still bad at hiding his emotions, looking at you with sad, shiny eyes, his face long with sorrow.

You spare him a momentary glance, too affected by his empathy. It would be easier if he did not care. It would be easier if he did not look at you. It would be easier if he did not gather every undone curl to pull them back over your shoulder.

It makes you shiver like the first time. That chill is swallowed by heat as you remember him looking at you through that mirror, drawing your hair off your shoulders, firelight warm against your naked skin as he choked on his breathing.

Even now, his hand lingers on the back of your neck, on your shoulder, your arm. Every touch is just a second too long. He looks at his hand like it belongs to someone else, curling his fingers towards his palm like they hurt.

“Your Majesty,” he says, not much louder than a whisper.

“You can use my name,” you say, just as quiet.

The roar of the river makes you bold. You are alone but even if you were interrupted, you could never be overheard. It makes everything feel so natural, so right, like the gods themselves have aligned the world in such a way that you would be here with him at this exact moment. Yet at the same time, that is impossible. The gods chose you for the king. It was you who chose Jisung.

“I know,” he says. With a laugh, airy and humourless, he runs a hand through his hair and says, “Believe me, I know.”

You finally look at him. His eyes are drawn to your mouth, but that is because you missed some blood. You fold your hands neatly in your lap, the very picture of lady-like perfection if not for your bloodied lips and the aching swell of your cheek.

Jisung cups water into his own palm. With one hand, he holds your face, thumb and forefinger curled around your chin to tilt your head. He brings the water to your lips, pours as neatly as he can.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers. “I mean, you’re crazy— Fuck, I shouldn’t say that to the queen – Fuck, I swore again – don’t listen to me – Your Majesty, with all due respect, you’re just—” He laughs, truly and deeply, wiping blood off your cheek while you stifle your own giggles.

The ordeal is still too fresh to truly have any perspective, but you suspect you will be reeling later tonight as you remember your own adrenaline-fueled actions.

“Don’t tell anyone I told you that,” he teases.

“Our secret,” you say, smiling.

His eyes are on your cheek, his thumb scrubbing a mark. When you say that, his gaze flicks to yours.

Your whole body reacts to his eyes. You feel – tight, clenching, stomach twisting with heat. There is at once an impossible emptiness at the centre of your being, and also a penetrating fulfillment as he looks at you so intensely that you feel it deep inside of you. You think the king could come to your chamber every night, could do whatever he would, and it would not feel half so thorough a claiming as one glance from Han Jisung.

“I, um, oh. Oh.” Jisung shakes his head. He looks down, hair falling into his eyes as he swoops over to cup some more water. He still holds your chin with his other hand, fingers loosely clasped.

He straightens, tossing his hair out of his eyes, focussed on your lips.

You know it is just because he is cleaning the residual blood, but his searching glance moves through you. It deepens when he wets your lips, as he lets that little bit of water pour off his skin and onto your mouth.

Your lips part, trusting. His fingers on your chin tremble just a bit. When he exhales, it flutters through a loose curl.

“Thank you,�� you murmur, lips moving against his fingers.

“Your Majesty,” he says, trying to be jovial, trying to laugh, but it comes out like a croak. “It’s why I’m here,” he says in a voice that sounds as rough as it did the other night. “I’m supposed to serve you. And – And I—”

His thumb runs slowly across your bottom lip, his eyes entranced with the way it gives under his touch, where it softly springs back. Your breath spills over his fingers and he swallows.

“And,” he tries again, breathing deeply when you do.

“And?” you say on that breath.

His gaze moves from your lips to your eyes. He drops one hand as if startled, fumbling for nothing, accidentally finding yours in its descent. You clasp that hand in your lap, heart racing as he so tightly curls his fingers around yours. It is such a desperate clutch, but it does not hurt. No, it never hurts.

“And,” he says, those other fingers still curled under your chin. It would make any defense impossible, his fingers so obviously guiding your face closer to his own. His mouth is a breath away, every exhale soft against your lips. “And I want to serve you, my queen,” he says in a soft, low murmur. “I need to serve you.”

You make a noise that could be mistaken for pain, wounded and sharp, but it is not that. It is the sound you make when you draw your kiss-wet fingers down your own throat, the way his damp fingers now trace that same descent. You tilt your head, offering him all that vulnerable skin, shivering under the long, slow touch.

He recognizes that sound too. He heard you make it two nights ago. You remember him kneeling, just like this, looking at you, just like this. You remember him, slouched in that chair by the fire while you dreamed of nothing more than kneeling in front of him. What would you even do from that vantage? You do not know. You just know it beckons to you like a call from above.

“Oh,” you say, trembling for a very different reason than earlier. “Jisung,” you whisper, “I want to serve you too.”

It is that remark that petrifies him, his hand freezing, his eyes wide. He stares at your neck like it is more dangerous like a sword-hand. A million complicated thoughts seem to flash across his face, one after the other.

His fingers splay open across your throat, your pulse beating under his hand. You swallow.

“What are you doing to me?” he breathes.

Then his fingers are under your chin again. Your faces come close. His lips are touching yours but it is not a kiss, just the promise of one, so painfully close to kissing that your mouths brush with the slightest twitch or breath. Still, he does not close the space entirely. He leans into it like he will, but then he collapses with a pained whimper, abruptly letting go, turning his face to the side.

“Fuck,” he says. He puts a hand over his face and shakes his head.

You turn your face the other way, closing your eyes too, breathing hard. You also touch your face, fingers shaking as you touch your unkissed lips, still tingling from the proximity.

Your other hand is in your lap. It is still tightly clasped around his.

“Oh gods,” he says.

“Yes,” you say. “I feel them too whenever you’re near.”

You look at each other. His mouth opens, some sentiment on his lips, desperate to be uttered, but he only manages to move his lips a few times before surrendering to muteness. He stands. With a gentle tug, he brings you with him.

The river laps at your feet. There is a swirl of pink where your blood spilled. You look at it for a long moment.

“In the banquet hall,” you say, watching the pink wash away. “In the wedding ceremony. On the road. In that inn.” You lift your eyes to his. “I felt it everywhere,” you say. “The gods, or just you, all around me, like nothing I have ever felt before.”

You lift his hands, bringing them to your lips as he did last night. He just stands there, mouth open, watching as you kiss his knuckles with the same devoted press. Where he was all desperate teeth and lips, you are tender, a soft wet kiss that lingers on his knuckles, scraped and scarred from so much work.

“These hands are a testament to years of hard work, kingsguard,” you say. You give his hands one final squeeze before letting go. “They should be worshipped too.”

He makes a sound you can only describe as a comical squeak. Your sweet, complicated, funny guard. Big eyes blink at you as you step back.

“Shall we?” you say, nodding to the brush, to the world that waits on the other side.

He nods, still too stunned to speak, staring at you as if in a trance. You bow your head to him, clasping your hands politely in front of you. You turn to leave.

You have only taken one step when you feel his hand on the back of your neck. It sends a bolt of fire shooting down your whole body. Your heart, moments ago doused with cold water, comes roaring back to life, shooting heat to every extremity.

You remember the strength of his arms. Yes, you will never forget. He wraps one arm in a possessive grip around your waist, just like before, but more. The other hand stays on the back of your neck, buried in your half-pinned hair, leaving it even more dishevelled.

The state of your hair is a perfect visual metaphor for what you feel inside: unravelled, undone.

He pulls you right into him. His name has scarcely left your lips before he swallows the sound, mouth pressed to yours in a hot, hungry kiss. His lips, his tongue, his teeth, all of it there, soft and hard and needy.

A kiss is the most you ever dared to steal over the years, silly childish exchanges that amounted to nothing.

But this –

This is everything.

“Jisung,” you say, like begging, almost a cry against his mouth before he steals the sound again.

You are both clumsy from lack of practice, or maybe lack of time. You are desperate to feel everything in the few moments afforded to you. There are lifetimes of desire packed into that kiss, eternities surrendered to the passionate press of his lips on yours.

He breathes your name, cups your jaw, tilts your face just so, kissing you slowly despite the ticking clock. You shiver, humming a sweet, amorous sound against his lips. The taste of blood is long gone, replaced with him. Just Jisung, on your lips and your tongue. You want it everywhere else.

You would give yourself to him if he asked. You would forget about everything and do it right here on this riverbank.

Fortunately, he has more sense than that. He lets you go, takes a small step back. He breathes unevenly while raking his fingers through his hair.

“We can’t do that again, okay?” he says.

You blink at him. It must be a convincing argument because he groans, then grabs you by the hips and pulls you towards him. He kisses you again, mouth open against yours, coaxing all those tender sounds you did not know you could make. It feels wet and messy and it should be awful, this frantic animal hunger, but it just feels good.

You just – feel.

“Okay,” he gasps. He clutches your waist, holds your body in his hands and counts under his breath. Finally, he steps back, nudging you away from him. “Okay,” he says, wiping his mouth and shaking his head. “That’s fine. That was – that was just. Exactly, you’re so right. Yes. All right. Very fine. Very good.”

He clears his throat, adjusting his black robes neatly like he did not just ravage your mouth in his holy garments. He tips his head back and stares up at the sky, holding the briars back for you, pointedly not looking down even when you approach.

You could walk right past him. You should walk right past.

You lean towards him and whisper, “I thought of you again last night.”

You step through the brush. You listen as he somehow accidentally slams them all in his own face, sputtering as he fights through the greenery to join you. He shakes himself out like nothing happened.

“Right,” he says. “Right. Right. Right. Go.” He points ahead.

You walk a few paces ahead. He escorts you back to Chan. When you are perched on the horse, you look back over your shoulder, once more intending just a fleeting glance. Jisung is already looking at you, fingertips pressed to his bottom lip. He lowers his hand.

You smile softly. Like something heaven-sent, he smiles back.

#han jisung x reader #jisung x reader #han jisung x you #jisung x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz x reader #skz x you #kpop fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction

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lilbitdepressed27 · 8 months ago

Text

Lorraine Day/Fem implied G!Preader

Summary: modern AU you're a helping farm hand at the Days

Warnings: death, violence a little bit.

WC: 4.9k

Author's Note: been wanting to do one for Lorraine. So here it is. Ive also got two AUs for Tara almost done:D. Hopefully they’re done soon. Well hope y'all like it. And like always. Not proofread, so sorry for any mistakes.

It was your second week of working for the Days farm. You had grown around horses and became extremely handed in training horses. Even at such a young age you had a connection with animals. You had grown up wanting to be a veterinarian. Now as senior in high school you landed a job working as a horse trainer. Back in your home town you had helped your grandfather train horses. It was a task you loved doing as a kid. You had missed doing that when you moved to the states a month ago. Your mother also worked for the Days and she told Mr.Day about you.

He had given you a chance and for the past week you had heavenly improved one of the young horses that had been very stubborn. The horse still had his moments but you worked hard to make him listen. You always carried sugar cubes or carrots with you. Using treats to make him listen. It was a way that had always worked for you.

It was a beautiful day outside, the weather was perfect. Not too hot, not too cold. It was the perfect type of weather to have Dante (the horse you were training) out and about. You were also helping the horse be around other horses. Mr.Day had said that he had bought Dante from someone who had no idea how to care for a horse. Dante had been alone and had been neglected his first year of life. So it was a little hard for him to get used to other horses.

"You're doing good kid. Look at him it's like he knows you'll give him a treat if he's good." Mr.Day had been observing how you worked with Dante. He had watched from the moment you stepped foot into the paddock, how Dante kept his eyes on you. He had watched how you spoke to the horse in your native language. The way you spoke so softly and gently to Dante. Showing him you weren't going to hurt him. He had watched how you would award Dante for the smallest things with a treat. Showing him he was a good boy. But also being firm with him when he did something bad.

It had taken him and a few others to even attempt to put on the bridle. They had all been unsuccessful. But after two days of you being with Dante he had let you put on the bridles with no hassle. He wasn't going to lie. He had been a bit jealous. He had spent so much money on Dante only for someone else to be the favorite. He smiled nevertheless. Once he was done with his other work he would stop by to see your progress. And he was honestly amazed. Dante had taken such a liking to you.

"All he needed was some love sir." You smiled back at him, fixing your hat. You like Mr.Day he was a nice man. Letting your mom and you work here. The way he interacted with every single one of his workers was admirable.

"What have I-"

You turned at the sound of a van coming down the driveway. The van looked out of place in place like this. You turned back to Dante who nudged you forward. He had been wondering around the paddock with the saddle on his back. You wanted him to get used to it first before getting on. It was the second day of him wearing it.

"Great job Y/n keep up the good work."

You nodded as he walked away. Going back to work. You handed the half of an apple to Dante who happily took it. You patted his head moving to get on his back. You moved slowly and gently. Making sure not to scare the horse. You sat on his back as he stood still.

"Good boy Dante. Good boy." You reached over and gave him the other half of the apple. You held his reins wanting him to get used to following the direction of the pull.

"You're doing great Dante. You're such a good boy." At the sound of his neighing you smiled and continued the process. Giving him small treats in award for his good behavior.

You had just taken off his saddle after putting him back in his stable after a good day of training. "Good job today buddy. You did good. Now get some rest and I'll see you tomorrow." You closed the gate to his stable after petting his head. You left the stables looking for your mom. It was almost time to leave and you were starving.

"Come on honey. Let's go. The Days are hosting a small party and they invited us. Don't worry I said maybe another time. I know how tired and hungry you get."

You sighed in relief. You weren't really up to being at a party. Tomorrow was another day and it was probably going to be harder cause Dante was set to make new friends.

You and your mother had arrived early at the Days. The sun was out and you were excited. Dante had come a long way. You knew he was a nervous one, which are usually the mostly dangerous ones. But you had a plan.

"Good morning Dante." You smiled when the horse stuck his head out from his stable at the sound of your footsteps approaching. He neighed excitedly, you chuckled and got his bridle. Putting it on after brushing him down. You lead him out of the stables. Another horse was already out, it was the horse you knew as Princess. It was a beautiful all light brown horse. You could see a girl riding the horse from a distance. They were on the other side of paddock.

You felt Dante nudging you forward with his head. You continued your walk to the paddock. Padding Dante's head as you closed the gate to the paddock. Letting Dante a few minutes to roam as you got everything ready for todays training. You had gathered the treats, along with the saddle. You had a few other workers help you divide the paddock. In the stables Dante was far from the other horses, he had shown signs of aggression towards other horses. Mr.Day had to put him in an other stable to make sure Dante didn't hurt himself.

The more you worked with Dante, the more realized that it wasn't aggression. It was fear. Dante had been by himself since he had been born. He just didn't know how to interact with other horses. You were to fix that.

"So you're the new trainer daddy has been talking about." The sound of a sweet but sudden voice had startled you. Turing to the sound of the voice to be faced with a beautiful dark haired woman. A beautiful smile directed your way, the dimples on display had you weak to the knees.

"Uh yes Ms.Day." You knew Mr.Day had a daughter. You just didn't think she would be so beautiful.

"Oh please, call me Lorraine."

Her southern accent was just so attractive, so soothing. You could hear her talk all day. You smiled towards her.

"Nice to you meet you ma'am." You tipped your hat towards her, smiling bit more when she returned the smile. Seeing the dimples on full display was a sight you'd want to see more.

"He looks more approachable now. You have done such great job. Daddy couldn't even get his bridle on."

You smiled feeling a bit proud of Dante's achievements so far. "He just needed some lovin and a bit of patience."

"Mmh well you done a fine job, I didn't catch your name."

"Thank you and it's Y/n."

Lorraine watched from the window as the horse trainer rode Dante. It had been a week since she met you and she couldn't stop thinking about you. The way you spoke to not just Dante but also the other animals. Your smile, your eyes, your voice, your laugh. You. She had spent most her time with you. Getting to know you, how you were a straight A student, how you wanted to become a veterinarian.

She knew that what she was feeling for you was wrong, it was wrong. Cause after all she had a boyfriend. A boyfriend she was planning to breakup with, but a boyfriend nevertheless.

"What are you staring at?"

The sudden presence of her mother had startled her. "Mom! What are you doin'? I was just-Enjoyin' the view?"

"Mama!" The blush on her cheeks had her own mother laughing at her.

"Can't blame you honey. Y/n is very handsome. Gotta say if I weren't married-Mother!"

"Aw I'm only joking. It's a shame you aren't single. You both would make such a cute couple."

Lorraine looked away from her mother to look back at you. You were handsome. You were breathtaking. She watched as you smiled at Dante. There was something about you, something that captivated her. She wanted nothing more than to spend time with you. To know you even more. And if she was own thing, it was persistent.

"Who's this church mouse. Hiding her all for yourself?"

You jumped up from your leaning down position when a hand touched your backside. Turning around to see an average height brunette. She leaned into your space as you stepped back you looked behind her to see Lorraine standing there with a scowl in her face.

"Leave her alone Max." Lorraine stepped away from her boyfriend to stand in the small space between you and Max. The way Maxine touched you had her feeling a sense of protectiveness. Especially with how uncomfortable you looked.

"Is that what you want sugar."

"Uh yea." You took a step away from Lorraine when she brushed her back side with your front. You had heard her let out a small gasp as she did. She had been so close to your front, you hoped she didn't feel anything. Afraid of what she might think.

"Okay than sugar. I'll be here when you change your mind."

You watched as she walked away, moving your gaze to a boy with glasses who had been glaring at you throughout the whole interaction.

"I'm RJ. Lorraine's boyfriend. Who are you?"

"Y/n." You couldn't help but to feel the disappointment. Of course someone like Lorraine wouldn't be single. You felt your shoulder slump just a bit. You didn't like the way this guy was trying to size you up. The way he was looking at you was giving you the creeps.

"Say sweetheart ever think of going into the movie business?"

"I'm not really an actress." You said as took off your gloves putting them in your back pocket. Facing the older man that had a cowboy hat.

"Oh we don't really do acting if you're catching my drift."

You furrowed your eyebrows confused. Not acting in a movie? What could he possibly-Oh. You felt your eyes widen.

"There we go. Now, if you're interested in making some extra cash. Give me a call." He winked after putting a small card in your chest pocket. Padding your shoulder as he walked away. You fingers took out the card. Your mom has been needing more money.

Lorraine had seen the whole thing as RJ spoke to her. But she hadn't heard a single word that had come out of his name. The bitterness, the jealousy, the protectiveness. She was feeling too much. Just the thought of one the girls touching in such way had her feeling in such way, a way she had never felt.

You never pictured yourself as someone to do...those type of movies. Not to mention the extra appendage you had hanging between your legs. It was something you never really talked about. If you did it, you wondered how much money you'd make.

"Are you considering it?"

The sweet southern voice had startled you. Turning your head to see your favorite brunette. You weren't really good at reading people but you weren't blind. You could see the frown that was on her beautiful face. Even though she was trying to hide it.

"I don't know. Maybe? My mama can use the extra cash." You shrugged looking back at the sunset. You had finished your work a while ago and were now just enjoying the sunset.

"If you're looking for extra cash, I can talk to my daddy-No, you don't have to do that." You refused to accept that. You didn't want them to think that you were using Lorraine for extra cash.

"Would you be comfortable with, doing that?"

You turned your head to look at Lorraine. The sun making her freckles stand out more. "Maybe? I don't know. Have you joined them?" You couldn't help but to ask.

"Me? No. RJ doesn't let me."

You furrowed your eyebrows at her. RJ did seem like a controlling type. "Oh, you should do what ever you set your mind to 'Raine." Cheeks hearing up at the slip of the nickname.

Lorraine also felt her cheeks heating up, no one calls her 'Ranie. She liked the nickname. More than what RJ calls her. He had settled on calling her Lori, which she hated. But Raine sounded so much better. Especially since it was coming from your lips.

"Come on Dante be nice. Make friends, who knows maybe you'll find yourself a girlfriend." It was another day and you had another horse on the other side of the fence. Princess. She was Lorraine's horse. You watched as Dante got closer to the female horse. Sniffing her, Princess was nice and calm letting Dante do as he pleased. He let out an excited neigh. You smiled when he didn't show the aggression he once had.

You sat on the fence as you watched Dante and Princess run back and forth.

"Well looks like they are getting along just fine." Ever since that day you had grown much closer to Lorraine. A lot closer than before. You both told each other everything. Well mostly everything. She now knows about your extra appendage. You had honestly been mortified when she asked. She had been sitting right in front of you while you both rode Dante. It had been truly mortifying. You couldn't keep your little friend down.

Lorraine on the other hand had never felt so hot and bothered. She didn't care about your...extra appendage. If anything she wanted to-, her whole body heated up at just the mere thought.

Part of you had felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Seeing that Lorraine didn't seem bothered by your difference.

Lorraine had never touched her self in such way that night. The only thoughts in her mind as she pleasured herself was you.

You smiled at the sound of your favorite voice. Seeing her dimpled smile as you looked down at her. She looked awful red, the heat of today must be really bothering today. She barely reached the top of the paddock fence. You chuckled as you got off the fence to stand beside her.

"Well hello to you to 'Raine." You tipped your hat, loving the blush on her cheeks. You loved how easy it was to fluster her.

Lorraine had loved the nickname you gave her. It was a name you only used. The warmness that spread in her heart had her almost swooning. "Hi Y/nn." She couldn't help the smile that made its way on to her face. The way you were looking down at her with your arms crossed. Your arm muscles bulging through your tight shirt. She was sure the blush on her cheeks had gotten bigger. She just hoped you couldn't tell.

"So how have you been. I heard you were going on trip with your boyfrie-we leave in two days and I'm not dating him anymore." She gladly accepted the side hug that you offered. Your warm body pressed on to hers. She leaned into your embrace. Feeling herself relax as you ran your fingers through her hair.

"I'm sorry to hear that 'Raine." You weren't. You had met RJ and even though he seemed nice at first. Once you got to know him more, he was a complete asshole. He talked down to Lorraine, spoke to her like her opinion didn't matter. You had wanted to punch his teeth in when he kept degrading her as a person. But a look from her had you biting your tongue.

"No you ain't. You hated RJ just as much as daddy did." She giggled, remembering how you would glare at RJ any time he would cut her off when she was talking.

You let out a small laugh, before letting Lorraine go so you could continue doing your job. Taking some hay from the truck to feed Dante and Princess.

"They want you to come, Wayne said he's been waiting for you to call, you know."

"I got to thinking about that and I don't know maybe I'll give it a try." Your eyes never leaving hers. A confidence you never felt before, flowing off you in waves it felt like.

Lorraine bit her lip to hide her smirk. "Maybe you should."

The confidence you felt before had all and vanished. Wayne had been excited when he heard you were tagging along. The vision he was seeing had apparently been upgraded. You were now gonna have a roll of the ranchers helper. One that would have a sex scene with one of the daughters. Which happened to be Lorraine.

Lorraine had asked to be in the movie. RJ had tried to fight it but no one listened to him. The look shared between you and Lorraine had been filled with so much. But yet no words came out. The cabin that Wayne had rented looked like something out of a horror movie. The elderly couple also gave you a creepy vibe.

"Okay, ladies. Are you ready? And don't worry about those old folk." Wayne said in excitement. They had already filmed some scenes, now you were being led into a room. Anxiety slowly making its way through your mind. You saw RJ holding the camera first. He refused look at you. You were nothing but a towel and your sports bra. Seeing as you would be naked, you had to tell Wayne and the others about your little friend. Surprisingly they had taken it well. Maxine making a joke about wanting to see it. A joke Lorraine didn't find funny.

Upon entering the room, you were left frozen on your feet. There near the bed was Lorraine getting her hair done by Maxine and Bobby. As much as you tried not to, you felt yourself harden. She was in just her panties and yellow bra. A sight you were now for sure to fantasize about.

"Wait! Before we begin none of you are virgins right?"

You and Lorraine both shook your heads.

With excitement Wayne led you to the bed and had you lay down on your back. Sitting up on your elbows as Lorraine crawled onto your lap. Your throat dried up at how sexy she looked. The way her steady hands gripped the towel. It had your heart racing.

In that moment it was just you and Lorraine. No one else.

Lorraine had never been left so satisfied but yet hungry for more. The way you had left her shaking, seeing stars, the stretch, the places you hit that she didn't even know of. The way you handled her, the way you had looked down her as you railed into her. She never she had never felt so sore, her lower region ached. But it was a type of ache that only one person could fix.

You.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" You had wanted to check on Lorraine the moment Bobby and Maxine helped her after the filming. You never knew you could feel so horny. Even after everything. You wanted more of Lorraine.

Lorraine felt her cheeks heat up, it was way past dark now but she couldn't sleep. "Yea I'm okay." She felt your warmth the second you sat next to her on the bed.

"I-" You both said at the same time, then laughed lightly. You didn't want things to be awkward.

"I like you. As more than a friend." Lorraine blurted out. She refused to look your way. Cursing herself for not keeping her mouth shut. Now she had foolishly thought that you felt the same just because of what happened earlier that day. Now she wanted nothing more than to di-your lips were on hers completely cutting her off. She felt herself lean into your body more, her own hands clutching your shirt to bring you closer to her.

"I like you to 'Raine." You whispered to her. Your lips only centimeters away from hers. You had never felt so happy like you did in that moment. Just before you could continue the door swung open.

"Sorry to interrupt you ladies but RJ is missing."

Splitting up from Lorraine had been an awful idea. You shouldn't have listen to Wayne. Cause this elderly people were fucking crazy. You never knew an old man could be so strong. You fought with that old bat as he had tried to beat you with what looked like a bat. He had gotten a few good hits in, including a knife wound to your thigh. He would have won if you hadn't gotten a thick tree branch and swung it. The branch had connected to the old man's temple rendering him unconscious.

You stumbled away. Trying to stop the bleeding on your thigh. You needed to find Lorraine. Praying to the lord above that she was okay.

Crossing the lake to only trip. Falling hard on to the dirt floor. You groaned in pain the wounds you had burning in pain from the sudden movement. You looked back to what you tripped over, your eyes widening in fear and grief. There was Jackson eyes wide open, no life in the eyes that once held so much.

Getting up was harder but yet you still did. The need to find Lorraine was stronger.

Getting to the cabin was closer now. You limped up the steps. Using the wall to study yourself, trying to be as quiet as possible. You needed to find your phone. Wayne had told you not bring it. Said something about disconnecting with the outside world. But you hadn't listened and snuck it into your bag. Calling the police, and hoping that Lorraine was in the cabin.

The phone call was quick. The dispatcher promising to send the police. But you knew it would be awhile before they arrived. The farm was in the middle of nowhere. The nearest town being almost an hour away.

Getting into the farm house was your next option to find Lorraine. Upon entering the house, the loud noise of the tv was the first thing you heard. But the more you tried to focus, the clearer you heard someone crying.

With no other option you followed the noise into the kitchen. Seeing a door with some blood on it along with a hole. The crying being much clearer now. "Lorraine?"

"Y/n? Oh thank god you're okay. Please get me outta here. These people are fucking crazy." Lorraine sobbed, she felt relief that you were still alive. But the fear she felt was still there and growing at the sight of your beat up face and body. The pain of her broken fingers making her whole arm hurt.

You moved quickly to unlock the door. Her body falling into yours. You held her making sure not to hurt her.

"We have to hide. The cops are on their way. Here let me see." You took off your shirt carefully wrapping Lorraine's injured hand. Apologizing when she cried in pain. "Come on."

You both froze in fear at the sound of what sounded like Maxine screaming followed by a loud gun shot. You were faster to react, taking a hold of Lorraine's uninjured hand and leading her up the stairs. The more you tried to find somewhere to hide. The more fear you felt like those crazy people would get to you and Lorraine. That's when you saw the door to the attic. You moved quickly to get the rope and pull it down. The ladder falling, making sure to catch it before it made a loud noise.

"Come on. Go." You made sure that Lorraine made up the ladder safely before following her. Getting the ladder back up and closing the door. Lorraine was right behind you her face buried into your shoulder as she tried her best not to make a sound. Her shoulders still shaking form trying to control her sobs.

You heard the old man murmuring to himself. "Damn gun. Damn kids. I'll show them. I'll show them."

At the sound of something hard hitting the floor. You looked down through the small cracks on the floor boards. Seeing that he had dropped the gun. Taking in that he no longer had any bullets.

"I'll find them. I'll find them."

Dread feeling your body when he looked up, it looked like he was looking right at you. "Found you." Gripping the rope to hold the door in place.

"Fuck, Lorraine find another way out." Your grip tightening when you heard the old man trying to pull on the rope that was on the other side. Hearing him hitting the other side with a hard object. You were not going to let this crazy bastard get any where near Lorraine.

"There's a window." Lorraine did not want to die on this farm. And she sure as hell did not want you to either. Ignoring the pain she used both hands to open the window. But it had been nailed shut. So she used the lamp to break the window. Moving faster when she was hearing you struggle to hold the rope.

"Go Lorraine. I'll be right behind you."

"No but I-Go!"

Once she was out you let go of the rope, running the best you could with your injured leg to the window. Lorraine helping you out the window with her good hand.

"We're going to have to jump. Look the bed of the truck has hay. Co-" Your sentence being cut off when a sharp pain came from your back. The blade going in and out, your limbs losing their strength far too quickly. Before being pushed off the roof. Faintly hearing Lorraine's scream. Then gun shots ringing out before your world faded into darkness.

Bright lights were the first thing you saw. Sound being muffled, the pain from before being numbed. You looked around to see your mom sitting by your side. At the sight of her you finally let yourself cry. Hearing you cry, your mom looked up. Her own eyes filling with tears.

"Oh my baby." She knew, she knew she shouldn't have let you gone when you had asked to go on that stupid trip. But she had seen how excited you were, you had finally found a good friend in Lorraine. And since Lorraine was going as well, she thought that everything would be okay. It was just a normal trip between friends. But good god had she been wrong.

"Where's Lorraine? Is she okay? Please tell me-She's okay sweetheart. Three broken fingers. But she's okay. She's been begging to see you." Your mother couldn't stop crying. She remembers the call. How the officers called her telling her how you had been stabbed and beat. How the people that owned that farm had tried to kill you and Lorraine. How that crazy old couple had succeeded in killing Lorraine's friends. Although they couldn't find the body of Bobby's.

"Take me to her please. I have to make sure she's okay."

Your mother nodded. Knowing very well that there was going to be no stopping you. "I'll tell Mr.Day that he could bring Lorraine in."

It wasn't long till the door to room was pushed open and Lorraine came in followed by her dad and mom.

Lorraine cried tears of joy and relief. Seeing you fall off that roof had been the worst feeling. Not knowing if you were dead. She remembers screaming. Before the sirens were heard. Along with shouting from the police and the old man. He had shouted and threatened to kill her. But the second he moved towards her he had been shot and killed. The crazy old lady as well.

Lorraine felt herself shake at the sight of your beat body under bright lights. Seeing you motioning for her to get closer. She wasn't one to deny you. Quickly getting to you and hugging you. Body melting in your embrace, careful not hurt your wounds. "Thank god your alright. I was so scared."

You moved your arms around her waist bringing her in closer to you. You looked towards Lorraine's parents. Who gave you a nod with a small smile before stepping out of the room followed by your mother.

Lorraine got comfortable on your bed. Loving the way your arms wrapped themselves around her. She thankful that you were alright. Her body being able to relax in your warmth. The steady heart beat lulling her into a deep.

#lorraine day #Lorraine day x Fem!reader #x movie #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #x fem!reader #wednesday addams x reader

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poisonedprose · 10 months ago

Text

𝐈𝐕. 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐎 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋. ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 - taglist

IN WHICH, leon is giving his all and trying so hard to save your relationship after the tragic incident but you have given up all hope on everything, including yourself. you've let yourself go, pretending like your actions have zero consequences, fighting with leon in the early mornings, making up with sex, and then doing it all again. doesn't it get exhausting making the bed?

WARNINGS, iv. 1k, angst, curse word, alludes to sex, sex as an apology, toxic reader, alludes to reader doing drugs, leon is desperate,

"Carlos? 'Goodbye, Carlos'?" Leon was angry, angry couldn't even begin to describe the emotion he was feeling. He felt like his blood was bubbling with rage. No, it wasn't rage. It was betrayal. "Leon.. It's not what it looks like—" He cuts you off, not even bothering to hear you out. "Oh? It's not? Really? Cause it looks like you were on the phone with your ex boyfriend." You sigh, cringing at the fact that he was in fact right. You caved, weakened your common sense and called the one person you shouldn't of.

Leon was familiar with Carlos, well, at least his legacy. Leon knew all about how Carlos fucked you over and you expressed to him you were terrified of him doing the same to you. Now here you both were, you were the one breaking the promise that you insisted on having. "Leon, please. I was just..." You trail off. You were just what? Desperate? Leon sighs, throwing the bouquet of flowers onto the coffee table, small drops of water sliding out of the plastic encasing. He was trying to do something nice, try to cheer you up.

You were so sweet last night, so apologetic. Now, he thought he was a fool for even thinking you were getting better. There was not an ounce of courage in you to change. He knew that, but once again, he fell for your simple minded games. He was getting tired of it, tired of being led on just to be let down. It was silent as the two of you exchanged looks, almost like you were trying to communicate through your eyes. You were the first one to look away, the way he looked at you with hurt was eating at you, making you cave.

He didn't know what to say. Was there anything he could say to make this better? His stomach turns with doubt. Had you finally cracked? He knew this day was coming, the day where you lose it, lose all your morals. The sickest part of it all? He was okay with it. He was okay with becoming a martyr to you. He would testify until his final breath that you were a good person. He would cling to as he took his last breath to die in your arms, even if you didn't want him to.

It was pathetic almost, to love someone so much that he could look the other way in times like this. Could it even be called love anymore? It was silent. Was it because neither of you dared to speak? Or because neither of you knew what to say? Was there even anything to say? Leon knew he should protest, call you some kind of degrading word for cheating, or even imploring the idea, but he doesn't. He couldn't. He swallows, his mouth is dry. He felt like a fool. You were the queen and he was the court jester.

The silence was starting to become unnerving. Serving as only a cruel reminder that he couldn't stand up to you. Sure, he could scold and yell at you for hours. But this. This was different. This was do or die. At least, that's what if felt like. He could feel you slipping through his fingers. He wanted to hold on, despite how much you've hurt him. You were still his everything. Insecure thoughts filled his overworked mind. Would you really go back to Carlos? He couldn't put it past you.

Maybe a few months ago he would know you wouldn't. He wasn't so sure now. You'd done things you swore you'd never do. Was your word even loyal anymore? Were you loyal? The silence goes on. You weren't even looking at him. You couldn't even muster up the courage to face what you'd done? He watched you stare at the floor, bottom lip slotted between his teeth, biting at the pink skin. They'd surely get swollen later. He waited, he would say for what, but he knew. He was waiting for you to offer sex. Offer your body to him like that was some kind of remedy and maybe it was.

He was weak to you, your body. You knew it, he knew it. You could stop him in his tracks like no other. Make his mind turn to mush with just a simple flirt. You were his drug, but he wasn't yours. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you stood up, walking over to Leon with a defeated posture. "Let me make it up to you..." You finally spoke the magic words. Those words were practically tattooed in his mind now. Your offer hung in the air, tempting and dangerous.

He couldn't help but feel like a pawn in your game, a game he never signed up for. The room echoed with the weight of the decision he was about to make, a decision that could either solidify your relationship or tear it apart completely. The silence lingered, a deafening sound that echoed the uncertainty of the future. The clock ticked, almost taunting Leon that he was running out of time.

And in that fragile moment, Leon found himself grappling with the choice between holding onto the love he had for you or letting go to preserve what was left of his shattered pride. He looked deep into your eyes, searching for any sign of sincerity, any glimmer of the person he fell in love with. You were looking up at him, he could get lost in your eyes. The longer he looked at you, the less everything seemed to matter. Was this really a big deal? It was just a phone call, right...? "Okay..." He nods with a weak voice.

The bouquet of flowers, filled with lilies and irises, now sat abandoned on the coffee table. They'll probably die before either of you gets to put them in a vase of water. Drops of water escaped the plastic encasing, mirroring the tears that threatened to spill from both your eyes. Leon's shoulders were slumped, wondering if he made the right decision and he allows you to lead him into the bedroom. It was midday, but it looked dark out already. Maybe it was supposed to rain.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎┊ㅤㅤ🩻 ㅤㅤ ﾟㅤㅤ ┊‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎@ginswife @catsareawesomek @valsthea @mememgx @nuo-444 @hermizery @bearieio @coqvttes @kennedysbabygirl

#! 𖦹 ₊˚✧ re .#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy angst #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 #re4 leon #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 x reader

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angel-kyo · 9 months ago

Text

Pay it no mind

Part XIV

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. There is a mention of reader being injured, and I guess everyone is ooc here, but thank you for bearing with me.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII

----------------------

A week. Seven full days of silence. When was the last time you had gone this long without any contact with Satoru?

No calls. No messages. Not even a glimpse of him. You had learned from Ijichi that he had been sent on a mission to a distant part of the country just a couple days ago. In other words, there was nowhere to see him.

Initially, it had been a relief. After he left on that fateful night, and you allowed your feelings out. It was only then that it hit you: you had never cried over his rejection. It had hurt, and you had grieved in some way, but maybe by immediately pretending it had never happened, you had prevented yourself from accepting heartbreak.

The truth was just too scary to accept, so you had told Satoru the same lies you had been telling yourself for the past months. ‘It was just a crush’, ‘It has passed’, ‘I’m over it’.

“Liar,” you muttered to your own reflection on the bathroom mirror. Dark bags were starting to form under the eyes that returned your gaze.

Your back was sore and your sleep had not been the best during the last few days.

At first, you had been upset with Satoru, and then upset with yourself for not being able to just dodge the hit and play it cool.

Satoru must have known how much of an unpleasant memory it was for you. Why did he have to bring up the rejection again?

He was not that dense, and neither were you. Your friendship had often felt as both of you stepping right on the line between friends and lovers. Sometimes one of you would lose balance and almost fall on either side of it. Even if both of you denied it, none of you had a similar relationship with anyone else. Still, you believed he had given you the definitive push the day he rejected you.

If he could not feel the same, you could respect that. In fact, you had vowed to just forget it. But why did he have to kiss you while being aware of the hold he had on you?

It’s probably nothing to him, that’s why.

You remembered what Shoko had told you once.

“He is a bit selfish when it comes to you,” Shoko said softly, putting her head on your shoulder.

It must have been summer with how hot it was, and you could see droplets of sweat forming on Shoko’s forehead. You and she were sitting on a bench, outside of a convenience store. She had sent Geto and Gojo for drinks inside.

Satoru had initially said that Shoko and Suguru should go, but Ieiri had refused, saying she was getting a heatstroke and needed to sit down, with you to keep her company. Gojo rolled his eyes but let Suguru pulled him into the store anyway.

“Are you really feeling unwell?”

She only smiled.

At the beginning of your friendship with Suguru and Shoko, Satoru had wanted for all of you to get along, but he was not particularly appreciative of you spending too much time with either of them without him. He had loosened up quickly, though, but Shoko and Suguru were an exception. If he could keep you by his side, he would.

He could not take it back. All he had said and done; all the ways he made it look like there was more to it when there was not.

He can’t take any of it back, and neither can I. Paying it no mind is not going to solve it either.

You looked at your phone. You had sent Satoru a message earlier, just to make sure he was okay. Not that you should worry; he was strong, and if the world had not yet collapsed under curses, he was probably still alive. However, it was not like him to stay away from you this long with nothing but radio silence in between.

I guess I did kick him out, so I can’t blame him.

You washed your face and went to bed, not bothering to take your phone back to the bedroom. You needed to sleep, and the only person you cared to chat with at the moment had not even read your message.

***

“Okay, this one is it. Just try it out.” Satoru patted the mattress of the queen size bed he had found at the department store you were currently at.

You sat down. “It’s… It’s okay,” you said.

To Satoru, you did not sound impressed at all. “Just okay?”

You nodded. “Comfortable.”

“Is that how you try out a mattress? Do you sleep sitting up, [name]?” he asked smiling as he laid down on the sample bed.

You looked around. None of the other clients were really looking at you, too focused on their own shopping to care, but still…

“It’s kind of embarrassing.” You directed your eyes back to Satoru.

“It’s not, and it’s the only right way to do it,” Satoru said smiling and patting the mattress again so you would lay down too, which you finally did.

“And?” he asked.

The ceiling lights of the store were a little too bright, but if you focused only on how the mattress felt, it was indeed comfortable.

You had just signed the lease for your first apartment and getting some furniture was the next thing on your to-do list to become an independent person. Among the basics, having something to sleep on would be nice. That is how Satoru had accompanied you shopping for your first mattress.

“It’s more than okay,” you admitted.

“You should get it then.”

“How much is it, though?” Your eyes widened a bit after looking at the price, and you got up from the spot immediately. "Forget it. It's one zero too much."

I wouldn’t be surprised if they charged for just trying it.

Satoru, on the other hand, could not have looked more unbothered even if he tried. This was why going shopping with him and a budget in mind was useless.

“If this is the one you like, I would not mind…”

You shook your head. “No way. I have a budget, I just need to stick to it,” you reassured him. “Besides, this one would not even fit in my bedroom.”

Of course, he would not mind lending you money. He might not even ever ask you to pay back, but this was your quest for independence. You would rather not to lean on his resources. It was the same reason you had declined Yaga’s offer to crash at the school dorms, even though now that you were starting your teaching career there, it might have been convenient. It was going to be nice to have your own space, plus, now that all your former classmates had left, the dorms were too empty and too full of memories at the same time.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” A store clerk had spotted you and landed next to you. The woman was quick to compliment the model ‘you two’ had chosen.

Satoru had sat up and was now looking at her. When she looked at him more closely, her words halted, and a light blush appeared on her cheeks.

Right, that’s the effect he has on people.

You mentally thanked Satoru for being so good-looking that people would become speechless on his presence and allow you to speak instead.

“Actually,” you started, “this is not quite what I’m looking for.”

“Oh, well…” She seemed to have recovered from the momentary shock of first meeting Satoru’s face, “We have some other options that are preferred by couples. I will be glad to show you…”

You and Satoru shared a small smile. Another one, huh?

“We are not…” he said.

“We are friends,” you stated.

“Oh, sorry.” Her smile looked sincere, “Then is there anything you are looking for in particular?”

“Are there any… smaller options?” you asked hopeful. Maybe she had some cheaper ones too.

She nodded politely and asked you to follow her to another area of the store.

“Smaller?” Satoru had stood up to follow you. “How will we both sleep in it?” He was smirking.

You elbowed him, and he was kind enough to pretend it had hurt.

“Don’t say anything else that will confuse the lady,” you hissed and he chuckled.

That day, Satoru pretty much ended up picking your bed. It was not as big as he had wanted it, but it was comfortable enough and, to your delight, within budget. The only downside to Satoru was that it would require a bit of effort for both of you to fit in.

***

“Fancy seeing you here.” Satoru sat across from Shoko at her table in the school cafeteria.

She had decided to take a break from reviewing files at the infirmary and usually, she would not go to the cafeteria, but you had pulled her there so many times that her feet had carried her there almost automatically.

She looked at Gojo’s face. “You are back.”

“Got back last night.” He took out his phone and Shoko saw him check something on the screen and put it down on the table. Was it her imagination or he seemed tired? Tough to say without seeing his eyes, but he did have a duller aura around him right now.

Shoko raised her cup of tea to her lips and eyed Satoru’s phone.

“New phone?” she asked.

Satoru had leaned back on his chair and a adopted a more carefree expression. Even if he was a grown man, Shoko would have said he looked just the same as when they were highschoolers.

“Yeah…” It was impossible to tell, but Ieiri also thought his eyes were looking around the cafeteria, and she had a hunch on what he was searching for, or rather, who. “The other one broke down. It’s the same number, though.”

His phone had broken down three days ago, it slipped and the screen turned pitch black. It had not shut down immediately, though, and it still rang when Ijichi called him, but if he could not see the screen, it was no use keeping it.

Satoru had not really cared at first, only getting a cheap phone to communicate through the end of his mission. Ijichi had gotten a more suitable replacement ready for him when he got back, and it was only after setting it up and retrieving his backup data, that Satoru realized you had actually messaged him days ago.

Unlucky.

He had not replied yet, figuring he would see you at the school anyway and could maybe set things straight between you two. However, he had not encountered you across campus, and when he peeked at your class, your students were being looked after by a first-grade sorcerer he had seen around a few times, filling in the substitute teacher position.

He wanted to ask Shoko. “Say, Sho-”

“[name] took a couple days off,” she interrupted him while placing her cup back on the table and encircling it with both hands.

Can she read minds?

Shoko could not, but knowing Gojo, it was taking him long enough to ask about you.

"Oh."

She looked at him. “They...”

Shoko wanted to tell Satoru you had paid her a visit after one of your missions that week, but she was not sure you would have wanted Gojo to know.

Ieiri had been surprised at first when she saw you that day. A lot of blood always made it difficult to perceive at first glance how big a wound really was. After a closer inspection, she realized the injuries on your torso were not too concerning, not for someone with her abilities at least.

But if they were a regular person and I was a regular doctor, they would have probably been bed-ridden for a while, she thought.

She had had you in walking condition after a couple days, but it still bothered her. Getting injured during missions was the norm for sorcerers, especially younger ones, however, she knew you were experienced in battle. A scratch here and there was expected, but she had seen you returning more beaten up lately.

They are taking on more difficult missions, that was what she wanted to tell Gojo. She was not sure whether you were trying to get promoted or if for some reason they were actively assigning you missions above your rank.

The cup Shoko was holding was warming her hands.

A thought assaulted her mind: There is no predicting the higher-ups.

If you had upset one and now had a target on your back, Satoru could help you out, could he not?

“What is it?” Gojo tilted his head looking straight at Ieiri, or at least she felt this time he was looking at her.

“Nothing. I think they will be back tomorrow.”

Satoru had thought about visiting you, but seeing how that turned out last time, he decided to wait.

Giving you space was the right call in his experience. Usually, no matter what the problem was, you could talk it through when you both had had some time to mull it over.

But, in this case, how much time did you need?

The whole situation was like nothing you and him had faced before. Fighting over snacks or over a joke that went a step too far was one thing. The look you had given him that night and the way you called him selfish, that was completely different, and it had haunted him since he left your apartment.

Satoru grabbed his phone and finally replied to your message. He hit 'send' and offered an attempt of a smile to Shoko.

“If I asked for advice, would you give me some?”

----------------------

Note: I almost forgot my iconic note (even though I'm the only one who thinks it's iconic). And the note is... there is no note, just my love. <3

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XV

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh

#gojo satoru #jjk #gojo x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fanfic #gojo x you #jjk gojo #gojo x y/n #gojo fanfic #satoru gojō x reader #satoru x reader #pay it no mind #jujutsu kaisen

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year ago

Text

Greatest Fan of your Life

➪the one where you get your wisdom teeth removed and bradley takes care of you.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of a bad past dental experience, mentions of teeth being removed...because, you know, mentions of blood, anesthesia, use of an iv, mentions of not eating properly, reader is going through it, bradley being the best boyfriend ever, literally wrote this because i just had three of my wisdom teeth removed and needed some comfort

Word Count: 5.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

You were nervously chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced up at the sign of the best dental office in San Diego. As you read over the sign a couple of times, Bradley reached over from his place behind the wheel and grabbed your hand. “How are you feeling?”

Tearing your eyes off the logo that resembled a tooth, you give him a weary smile. “I’m nervous,” you state the obvious in a quiet voice.

Bradley raised your hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it before rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles with his thumb. “You’re going to be fine, pretty girl,” he said in hopes to provide you with some much needed comfort. “I’m going to be waiting right here when it’s over, and then we’ll go home and I’ll cater to your every need.”

You give him another smile and lean over to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I like the sound of that,” you murmur and he smiles back before placing another quick kiss to your mouth.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” He asks when he saw you reach for the handle.

“Please,”

And with that one word Bradley was hopping out of the Bronco and grabbing your hand as you both walked up to the door. He could feel just how tense you were and he wished there was something he could do to ease your nerves, even a little bit. He knew there was nothing he could say or do to help you, as having anything done to your mouth, from a filling to a simple clean, made you beyond nervous.

You had never liked the dentist, ever since you were a kid and they had to hold you down while extracting a tooth that was no good. They hadn’t given you enough freezing for it to numb properly, so you felt pretty much everything. Safe to say you never went back to that dentist office.

Maybe that was why you had waited so long to make an appointment to have your wisdom teeth removed. You were told back when you were twenty one that you should get them extracted as soon as possible, but that was ten years ago, and you still hadn’t booked the appointment.

You were fine, for the most part, up until a few weeks ago. You were barely able to chew tough foods because your gums ached beyond words, and you had resorted to drinking shakes to get you through the day. That was fine, until Bradley noticed you had lost a concerning amount of weight due to the lack of actual food you were getting into your body.

He went ahead and booked the appointment for you pretty much instantly after that. He had to sweet talk the lady on the other line, who was insisting that it should be you who was making the appointment, but she eventually gave in when he told her about your fear of the dentist.

Bradley still wasn’t sure how he had gotten away with that, but he was grateful nonetheless, even if you didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day after he informed you of your upcoming extractions.

While you were upset and scared, you were also glad you would be able to go back to eating solid foods in about a week after today.

That positive still didn’t help tune out all the negatives you were feeling.

As you walked up to the front desk of the office, you didn’t loosen your hold on Bradley’s hand once, not even when the lady behind the desk handed you a clipboard with papers you needed to sign since this was your first time in this office.

You both sat in the waiting room, and you were shaking so badly you were afraid your writing was so messy that you’d have to ask for a new page. With a nervous glance up at your boyfriend, he just pressed a kiss to the side of your head and took the clipboard from you, filling out your information for you. Most he knew off by heart, thankfully, and he handed it back to you so you could scribble down your signature at the bottom of the page.

It was only a few minutes after he handed the board back to the lady when your name was called. Bradley could tell that you were beginning to freak out once again, so he took your hand and walked with you over to where the procedure will be done.

“You’re going to be fine,” he assured you, his hands tilting your head up so he could press a soft kiss to your lips. “It’ll take an hour at the most, and then we’ll be back home.”

You just nodded and allowed him to kiss your forehead. “I love you,”

“I love you, too,” and he watched as you were guided into the room by the assistant.

You hesitantly sat down on the chair and kept your eyes on the blank wall in front of you. Off to your left were various paintings, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look over at them, despite them probably being there to calm down the patients. You were so nervous, you couldn’t even voice your opinions on the decor of the waiting room. This was by far the most elegant dentist office you had ever seen in your life.

The assistant took a seat next to you and began wiping down your forearm, and you began mentally preparing yourself for the eventual puncture of the IV. “How are we doing?” She asked softly. “Are you nervous?”

You give her a tight smile as she tosses the wipe into the trash can. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only a little bit,” she teased as the Doctor came in. “Your boyfriend mentioned that you have had some pretty tough times in the past regarding previous procedures. I want you to know that you have nothing to be afraid of. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You nod at her as the Doctor gently picked up the IV. “Hi, Y/n,” he smiled at you. “I’m Doctor Brown.”

“Hi,” you nearly whisper back.

He asked you the standard questions, like; are you taking any medication currently, are you a smoker, is there a chance you’re pregnant, when was the last time you had something to eat or drink. All that fun stuff you were barely able to answer.

“I’m going to insert the IV now, okay?” He asked and waited until you gave him verbal consent before gently piercing your skin with the needle. He looked at the fluid bag before sitting down on the other side of you and grabbing gloves. “I hear this is your first time with us, is that correct?”

You nod as he adjusts the chair so you are laying back. “It is,”

“And you have a reliable ride home?”

You nod again. “Yeah, my boyfriend,” you answer, wondering when exactly you were supposed to start feeling sleepy.

The assistant, whose name tag read Alia Clark, grabbed her own gloves as she asked, “What does your boyfriend do?”

“He’s in the navy,” you mumble with a small smile. “He’s an aviator.”

“Oh, wow,” she replied and smiled down at you before checking over your chart. “And what is his name?”

For some reason, that took you a bit longer to answer as you felt your eyes begin to feel heavy. “Bradley,” you were finally able to say. “His name is Bradley, but he also goes by his call sign, Rooster.”

“Rooster, huh?” Doctor Brown hums and you were only able to nod as you felt your eyes close.

“Don’t worry, Y/n,” you hear Alia say. “You will be back with Bradley, or Rooster, in no time.”

And that was all the assurance you needed before you let yourself fall asleep.

Bradley wishes he was able to stay in the room with you, but he knew he couldn’t, so he finally made his way back out to the Bronco once he saw the Doctor enter your room.

Once he was back behind the wheel, he sighed as he had an hour of time to kill.

He had taken the week off work, after informing Mav of your fear of the dentist. The older man seemed to have taken pity on you as he had no problem letting Bradley skip this week to look after you.

As he began to wait, he pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to you, knowing you wouldn’t see it or read it until you were back home. You told him beforehand to take your phone away from you until the effects of the IV wore off completely, nervous that you would embarrass yourself if you were to go on it in your drug induced haze.

After typing out a sappy little message, Bradley ended it with a simple red heart before sending it, hearing the buzz of your phone from where it was on the center console.

He debated on whether or not he wanted to stay in the parking lot the whole time, or run out to the store to get some things that would help make the next few days easier for you.

He reluctantly chose the second option, as he knew you wouldn’t want him to leave your side once you were back home.

Bradley drove to the nearest store and bought a few packs of pudding, apple sauce, ginger ale, yogurt and even some more of those shakes you had been living off of, something he was still mad about as he hated the way you turned to practically starving yourself to avoid this appointment, before stopping by the pharmacy to pick up more painkillers.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the smallest bit excited to be the one taking care of you. Usually it was the other way around, with you being the one to look after him every time he returned home from his deployments. Whether that be with making him his favorite foods, giving him some much needed massages or simply just laying with him in bed for a few hours, it all made the welcome home much nicer than it would have been if he was still living alone and single.

This time he got to be the one to look after you, and he couldn’t wait to cater to your every need. He couldn’t wait to spend the whole week with you, even though you would most likely be miserable and uncomfortable due to the pain in your mouth. Still, he would do his best to make things better for you.

Your surgery should be over soon, so with twenty minutes left on the timer he set for himself on his phone, he drove back to the dental office and was back to waiting for you.

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to go in and wait for you inside, or if they’ll call him to come walk you out, but he decided to go in a bit early, anyway, and wait for you in the waiting room.

Bradley remembered when he got his wisdom teeth removed, back when he was still a teen. He remembered just how uncomfortable he was during the recovery days, and how he didn’t really have anyone to look after him. He got his aunt to drive him there and home, and she stayed with him for a few hours after the surgery, but eventually had to return to her own home.

He had to stick to sucking on popsicles and protein shakes until he was feeling well enough to go back to eating normal food.

He was completely on his own back then, and he’d make sure that wasn’t the case with you.

A few minutes go by, and when he heard the assistant call his name, he paused the latest newscast that he was watching on his phone and pocketed it before standing up. “How is she?” He asked as Alia getsured for the lady behind the desk to ring up the receipt. “How’d it go?”

Alia smiled at his multiple questions as she watched him insert his credit card into the machine. “It went well,” she answered and gave him another smile when he slipped the card back into his wallet and took the receipt from the receptionist. “She’s just resting now, but is able to go home since most of the anesthesia has worn off.”

He nodded and followed her back to where you were. She stepped aside as he entered the room and found you still laying on the chair, your eyes barely open as you stared blankly at the TV that was hung from the ceiling. “Hi, pretty girl,”

At the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, you look over and tear up. “I don’t look pretty right now,” you mumble and try to avoid moving the cotton pads that were stuck to either side of your mouth.

Bradley hushed you and quickly walked around the chair so he could press his lips to your forehead. Your mouth and cheeks were swollen, and he could see a bit of blood on your bottom lip, but other than that, he still thought you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen. “You do,” he said and grabbed your hand when you reached it out to him, careful to not touch the bandage from where the IV was inserted. “Mouth full of gauze and all.”

“You’re Rooster, I’m assuming?” Doctor Brown asked as he held a few pages of paper in his hand.

“She told you my call sign, huh?” Bradley shook his head while you avoided eye contact with him and instead decided to stare at the wall.

“She was the perfect patient,”

Bradley looked over at you and gently rubbed circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. “I believe it,”

Doctor Brown went over what exactly he and Alia did to you, before handing him a small bag that held antibiotics inside. The whole time you remained silent as you tried not to cry in front of the Doctor and assistant, squeezing Bradley’s hand whenever you felt the pain beginning to form.

“She should be okay now,” the Doctor finished with a smile at the two of you. “There should be no more pain from having them in. If there is still a bit of discomfort after about two weeks, come back in and we’ll check up on the healing process.”

“Sounds good,” Bradley answered and gently pulled you up from the chair. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” you mutter as he guides you back towards the exit, with him carrying most of your body weight. He led you back out to the Bronco and helped put your seatbelt on before he was getting in on the drivers side.

“I know this will be hard for you to do,” he began, checking you over once more before putting the car in reverse and beginning to back out of the parking space. He puts his right hand on the back of your headrest and gives you a teasing smile before continuing, “But I looked it up and Google says you shouldn’t talk too much. It might interrupt the healing process.”

Despite him really wanting to hear all the odd things you’d say in your daze, he didn’t want you paying the price later by having a sore throat.

You send him a dirty look and raise your brow, as if to say, really?

He just winks at you after taking off his aviators and reaching over to gently place them over your eyes, sacrificing his own in hopes you would appreciate the gesture since you had forgotten your own during your rush to leave this morning. It was nearing the afternoon, so the sun was shining down on the both of you, but he would deal with it to make you more comfortable.

He was right about you appreciating it, as you give him a closed mouth smile, your cheeks puffed out due to the gauze. “Tell you what,” he says as he pulls out onto the main road, his right hand instinctively reaching over to trace random shapes onto the skin of your thigh. He keeps his left one on the wheel as he glances over at you, seeing your eyes already on him from behind the glasses. “Once we get home and you rest for a few hours, maybe we can go out and get milkshakes if you’re feeling up to it. Might help with the soreness.”

You instantly perk up at that and nod, grabbing his hand and bringing it up to your mouth. Bradley held back a laugh at your attempt to kiss the back of his hand, your lips clearly still numb as you couldn’t seem to get them to move properly.

He just gave you a grin when you looked over at him in defeat.

The swelling had gotten worse as the time went on, and your throat was dry beyond words. Bradley had guided you towards the couch as soon as you got home, flipping the TV onto one of your favorite shows and making sure you were comfortable before he was leaving to tidy up the small mess you had made in the bedroom a few hours earlier, when you couldn’t decide what to wear and had thrown multiple articles of clothing onto the floor.

Within minutes he was back at your side, your head resting on his lap as you stared at the screen of the TV. Bradley ran his fingers through your hair as you both watched the show, listening to your uneven breaths as you fought back grunts of pain.

He looked down and gently held your chin in between his fingers, squinting down at you as you opened your mouth. “I think it might be time to change the gauze, baby,” he murmurs and you wince in at the thought of seeing the bloody cotton leave your mouth.

Bradley gently sits you up before reaching over and grabbing the bag from the dentist and pulling out a fresh set of gauze.

After damping them with water, he sets them aside before mumbling a quiet, “Come here,” and he watches as you lean towards him and slowly open your mouth. Bradley caresses your jaw with one hand and uses the other to slowly pull out the bloodied gauze. He does it one by one, murmuring a soft, “I’m sorry,” when he sees the tears form in your eyes. He places both pieces of gauze on the palm of his hand before handing you the clean ones.

He sits with you until you’ve successfully placed the new cotton into your mouth, and then stands up to throw away the blood filled ones.

Once Bradley returns back to the living room, you move over and give him space to sit down before laying your head in his lap again and trying to focus on the show instead of the throbbing in your mouth.

With your head still feeling fuzzy and the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingers running through your hair again, you give yourself a bit of relief and fall asleep.

When you woke up alone a few hours later, you noticed that Bradley had left the TV on and had also put your phone on the coffee table beside you. You could hear him doing something in the kitchen as you reached for it, and knowing him, he was probably making something to eat as his stomach was like a bottomless pit.

You sat up with a groan, still a bit groggy from the anesthesia, and unlocked your phone. Instantly, you were met with a couple of texts from your friends and family, and you smiled as you read them.

Mom: I heard from Bradley that it went well and you’re resting now. Call me when you’re feeling up to it. Love you x

Nat: I told you that there was nothing to be scared of. Have fun being stuck with Rooster for a week ;) Text me when you can!

But the one that had you smiling a little bit more was the one from Bradley.

Bradley ♡: I love you, pretty girl. I promise I will be there with you as soon as it’s done. I’m all yours for the next week, and after that.

You send him a heart emoji back, then realize that the gauzes are all soggy in your mouth, and you once again had to hold back a gag as you leaned over to put your phone back down.

When you bite too hard down on your cheek through the cotton, you wince and accidentally drop your phone onto the floor. It landed on the rug with a thud, and you heard the sounds coming from the kitchen stop.

Seconds later Bradley was standing in the doorway to the living room, a cloth in his hands and he was still chewing something as he asked, “Are you okay?”

You give him a thumbs up before pointing down at your phone.

He looks at it and shakes his head as he tosses the cloth back into the kitchen to find later, before crossing the room and picking up the device. “I knew giving you back your phone would be a bad idea,” he teased as he sat down next to you and gently ran his fingers along your still swollen jaw. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged and blinked away the remaining sleep from your eyes. “Dry,” you said and wince at how raspy your voice sounded.

Bradley nodded, murmuring a quiet, “Okay,” as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Do you feel like trying to drink something?”

You look up at him with a small smile. “Milkshake?”

He laughs and kisses your forehead. “We can go get milkshakes,” he says as he gently tugs on your lower lip with his thumb. “But first we need to change those again.”

You groan as he helps remove the stained gauze from your mouth again and wonder how he wasn’t grossed out by holding them in his hand. You supposed he’s seen and done worse, and he’s not exactly new to having your saliva on him.

He uses his free hand to grasp your chin between his fingers and tilts your head so the lamp next to the couch was able to shine somewhat into your mouth. “It doesn’t seem to be bleeding much right now,” he hums and stands up to toss the gauze away. “Do you want to see how it goes without them for a bit? Just until you get something into you. If it starts to bleed again after the shakes, I’ll help you put new ones in.”

You agree instantly, happy to be rid of the uncomfortable cotton for at least a little while. After he throws the used gauze out, he returns back to the living room with his keys and phone in one of his hands, the other free for you to hold as he held it out to you.

He pulls you off the couch and guides you back out to the Bronco, making sure to grab the bag that holds the gauze and meds that you would need to take afterwards. He knew it would be an early night as the medicine would most likely make you sleepy again, and that was why he waited until it was nearing eight before taking you out for milkshakes, so you could go back home and go to bed at a reasonable time.

Bradley couldn’t do much for your discomfort, but he could sure as hell keep your sleep schedule on track.

You leaned your head against the window as he drove into town, your eyes hazy as you listened to his quiet humming of the song that played on the radio. “I like your singing,” you murmur as you look at all the lit up shops that passed by. “You should do it more often.”

Bradley laughed from beside you as he pulled into the drive thru. “I sing all the time for you, baby,”

“I know,” you say and lift your head, looking over at him while he eyed all the flavors to choose from. “But I can never get enough of you, you know that.”

He lifted his hand and ran his knuckles along the bone of your cheek, admiring the way your pretty face looked in the dim lighting of the Bronco. “The feeling is mutual,” he grinned at you when you turned your head to place a kiss to the back of his hand. “What kind are you wanting to get?”

You hum as you lean over the center console, reading over the various flavors. “Strawberry,” you decide and run your nose along the sharp angle of his jaw. “Please.”

After ordering two shakes, and asking for a spoon, Bradley pulled into one of the many available parking spaces. He pulled off the lid of your shake and stuck the plastic spoon in it before handing it over to you.

He watched you carefully as he sipped on his own shake, holding back a laugh at how puffy your face is. Of course, you saw him shift out of the corner of your eye and turn to him with a raised brow. “Sorry,” he grinned and set his shake down in the cup holder. “You look like a chipmunk.”

You just shake your head at him and slurp on the spoon, waiting until the cold substance dripped down your throat before saying, “You’re laughing at me,” you state and hear him snort and cover his mouth. “I’m in pain and you’re laughing at me.”

That just made him laugh harder, and you found yourself smiling at the sound. “I’m sorry,” he says and reaches over to gently caress your swollen cheek. “You still look as hot as ever.”

You roll your eyes and bring another spoonful of the milkshake to your lips. “Liar,”

“I mean it,” he promised, running his fingers over your jaw in a feather light touch before pulling away. “You’re the sexiest chipmunk I’ve ever seen, baby.”

When you laugh loudly, you wince immediately after, and Bradley quickly decides that you’d most definitely be a lot more comfortable at home.

“Alright, I think we should get going. Are you okay to…eat that while I drive?” He asked as he sipped on his chocolate shake. You wave him off and take a much smaller amount on the spoon, knowing that Bradley would go off on you for spilling anything in his precious Bronco, but you also knew he’d wait until after you were feeling better. The thought had a warm feeling spreading all over your body, as did his next words, “Okay, we’ll head home. You should take one of the antibiotics, first.”

You agree, and he holds your shake as you take the pill into your mouth. After rummaging around in the back with his free hand, Bradley hands you a warm water bottle, and he puts a reminder in his head to put the bottle in the fridge once he got home.

“Okay?” He asked when you took back your milkshake.

You nodded and have him a half smile, “It’s probably going to make me tired,”

“I know, that’s a good thing. You should be pretty tired by the time we get back home, and then you can go to bed and sleep off a bit of the pain,” he pointed out as he put the Bronco in reverse. Before he actually started moving, he gave you a serious look. “Do not spill that shake, pretty girl.”

You laugh quietly and give him a side glance as you sipped a bit of the milkshake from the cup.

“I mean it, baby,” he was only half serious in his warning as he started the short ride back home, one hand on the wheel while his other one held his plastic cup. “That cute face will only get you so far.”

You just shake your head and lean over to press a kiss to his cheek that you couldn’t feel yourself do. Your lips were still numb, so you were really trying to be as careful as possible with not spilling your milkshake.

Luckily, you arrived back home without letting a drop hit a single spot in the interior of his Bronco, and Bradley gave you a chocolate tasting kiss as a reward as he led you back up to the house.

Once you were in your room, he helped dress you in one of his shirts and sweats. After concluding that the bleeding had stopped, he decided there was no need to shove move gauze into your mouth, as that would most likely make it start to bleed again.

He pulled back the covers and sat down next to you, smiling down at your emotionless face and tired eyes. “You doing okay?” He asked as he brushed away some of your hair.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, taking his hand in yours and trying to kiss it. He just grinned at your attempt. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Bradley leaned down and kissed your forehead gently. “I always will, you know that,” you nodded as he pulled away and stood up. “Do you want an ice pack for the night? Might help with the swelling.”

After thinking about it, you nod and wait for him to return back into the room with the ice pack. He wrapped it in a dish towel and gently placed it against your jaw before stripping down into just his boxer briefs.

He settles down in bed behind you, hesitant to touch you at the moment in case you needed space. When you just laughed quietly and grabbed his hand so you could wrap his arm around your waist, he inched closer to you and allowed you to rest the ice pack between his shoulder and your jaw. He was glad he put the towel around it, but he also wouldn’t have minded having to feel it unwrapped against his bare shoulder. He’d suck it up for you.

“I love you, pretty girl,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” you mumbled back, snuggling closer to him as the effects of the antibiotics began taking over your body.

As Bradley held you while you slept, he felt glad that he was the one you wanted to look after you. He loved you beyond words and he felt as though this was the beginning of his attempts to even out the balance in your relationship. It was you who constantly looked after him, and though he loved it, he also felt guilty that there weren’t many occasions where he was the one who looked after you.

After spending the day taking care of your every need and being the one person you wanted to see you vulnerable, he decided that after this he would put more effort into showing you how much he appreciated and adored you.

He was ready to move onto a new chapter in his life with you by his side, if the small box tucked away in his box of collectable cards was anything to go by.

All he had to do was hope you’d say yes.

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littlelovelyra · 6 months ago

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I'm with you - Astarion FanFic

Fem tav x Astarion

Tav is a bard

Summary: Unbeknownst to you, Astarion has realised that perhaps his plan is falling apart, you have felt him distancing himself for a few days. You now arrive at last light inn where one night Alfira asks you to perform one of your latest songs. Which leads to you and Astarion alone in your quarters later.

Notes: Ive written this based around a song by vance joy, there will be the use of the lyrics from the song (maybe a few changed lyrics) for the plot of this story, so you will be reading the song lyrics - if you wish to listen to how its meant to be sung, the song is called “Im with you” - I suck at fanfic writing but I day dream a lot and since hearing this song I have had this “encounter” in my head so I like to get it out.

Warnings: Fluff, Oral, PiV, fingering

MINORS DNI

He’s been distant, and you don't know why. You spend your time lost in thought, replaying moments in your mind, searching for what you might have done to push him away. He hasn't sought you out for his daily feeds either, which surely means he must be growing weak. The last time you were alone together was two days after obliterating the Githyanki Creche. You wonder if he's still mad about the blast from that weapon you triggered. But you'd asked him multiple times if he had forgiven you, and he had reassured you that it was in the past. He had even warned you that next time he would be the one to wield the powerful weapon, as if he were more responsible than you.

You arrived at Last Light Inn in what you believe to be the early hours of the morning, though time feels different here. Your companions insisted you take the single room available, with its own bed and privacy. Perhaps they don’t know that Astarion hasn’t visited you for the past three nights…

Three nights ago, you had quietly slipped into his tent for him to feed on you. You remember how gently he laid you down, cradling your head with his arm as he carefully kissed your neck before sinking his teeth in. You can still feel his other hand cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing loving circles around your jaw. His soft moans as he drank you in echoed in your mind. After he had his fill, he placed another tender kiss on your wounds and slowly pulled you into a long, slow kiss that felt earth-shatteringly intimate, something you had never felt from him before. Remembering the feel of his cold hands exploring your body with such tenderness and purpose sends a shiver through you, as if you can still feel his touch. The breathlessness you both shared while tangled together in a night of passion, only to wake up the next morning with him already gone. You wondered if you had imagined the love radiating from him.

But now, there is nothing but silence. Eye contact avoided. Your chest feels as if it has caved in. You don’t know how to repair this, so you do what you know best. You pick up your lute and begin to compose. After what seems like an eternity of trying to collect your thoughts, you compose something that perfectly captures how you feel in this moment. Yet, the heaviness still weighs deeply within you. Sighing to yourself, you set down the paper and your lute and decide to purchase a drink at the bar.

“It’s you!” A familiar voice calls out from across the room. You lift your head to see the friendly face of Alfira, a fellow bard. You meet her smile with one just as wide and pull her into a warm embrace.

“I’m so glad you made it here, Alfira! I hope you’ve been keeping yourself out of trouble!” you say, holding her at arm’s length, taking her in. She seems healthy and safe.

“Well, it’s all thanks to you, Tav! I’ve been keeping out of trouble, just working on my music. In fact, I’ve been providing entertainment here for a while. I thought this place needed some nightly music to lift everyone’s spirits… OH! YES! I have the BEST idea!”

You know where this is going, and you don’t like it.

“You need to play here tonight, Tav! Please!” Her eyes are practically sparkling with excitement.

“Look, Alfira, I’m sure nobody wants to hear my stuff. Yours is probably way more interesting.”

“Nonsense.” She looks around the bar and loudly announces, “Who wants to hear Tav tonight instead of me?”

Gale, being Gale, yells in agreement, and the rest of the bar follows suit. You shoot daggers at him, who holds his hands up in surrender, offering an apologetic smile.

“I suppose I can, but one song only, Alfira.” You offer her a small smile. One song—you can handle it. It will be fine.

“Amazing! I heard some music coming from your room before, which is why I came inside. I’d like to hear that one, please! OH, I can’t wait. This is going to be AMAZING!”

Before you can protest the song choice, she gives you a quick hug and exits the building, spreading the news of your performance.

__________________________________

You spent the rest of the day polishing the lyrics of the song, and the time has finally come to head out and wait for Alfira to bring you up on the makeshift stage set in the corner of the room.

“We have an exceptional surprise for you all tonight! Our very own Tav will be performing one of her latest compositions! Please help me in welcoming her up!” Alfira extends her hand out and you sheepishly take it to hop up on the platform. Casting a look around the room you take a moment to compose yourself, this is what you did for a living before all hell broke loose. You can do this… and that’s when you see him lingering in the back, swirling his drink in his hand, his gaze completely fixed on you. You inhale deeply and you begin to play your new song, your stare never leaving his as you sing…

“I saw you standing there, the curls in your hair, the way it came tumbling down, just like a waterfall. And if you need a light I’ll be the match to your candle My Darling I’m ready, to burst into flames for you.”

Holding his stare you see something flicker in those ruby eyes but you continue without faltering.

“I was just coasting till we met. You remind me just how good it can get..

Well I’ve been on fire dreaming of you Tell me you don’t, it feels like you do Looking like that you’ll open some wounds… How does is start and when does it end? I’ve only been here for a moment but I know I want you But is it too soon? To know that I’m with you? There’s nothing I can do”

“There's nothing I won't do to see you shine I'll swing for the fences I'll run to the line And it's high time that you love me 'Cause you do it so well Oh darling, I'm with you There's nothing I won't do…”

You concluded the song, and the entire Last Light Inn erupted in cheers and hollers of approval. It had been a long time since you had experienced such genuine appreciation for your music, and your heart swelled with gratitude. You offered a small bow from the waist and made your way off the platform, shaking a few hands along the way. Alfira had returned to the stage, and the entertainment resumed.

_______________________________________

After a brief conversation with some of your companions, you excuse yourself and head to your room. Placing your lute gently on the table, you begin to prepare for bed, starting to undress. As you stand in your underclothes, a sudden chill envelops you from behind, causing your body to tense. You inhale a familiar scent - bergamot, rosemary, and a hint of aged brandy - and realize that you are not alone.

"Hello, darling," he breathes into your ear as he places a hand on your bare waist, sending a cold shiver down your spine. You slowly turn to face him, lifting your gaze to meet his. A thousand questions scream in your eyes, and you can tell he clearly sees them.. Before you can even form a sentence his mouth is on yours, with heated desperation his hands moving across the fullness of your body, taking you in, holding you as if he would never hold you again. Your questions vanish and nothing but desire flows through you down to your precious core that is aching with need for him. In an instant he’s guided you to the bed in the corner, placing you down, his kisses never missing a beat as he undresses you. The peaks of your breasts swell with anticipation as he scatters kisses down your neck, across your collarbone and eventually sucks in one of the tender peaks. A moan escapes your lips as you feel his hand moving toward your core.

He finds the bundle of nerves that eagerly await his touch and he begins rubbing slow circles around your clit.

“Astarion.’ You breathe out in a soft moan that sends him trailing kisses down your body until his head is at your very centre. You arch your back in anticipation, your body begging his mouth to find its home.

He lets out a soft growl as he buries his head in you, his tongue expertly delivering long calculated strokes, flicks and swirls. As he feels your body nearing its end he curls two fingers inside you and pumps them in and out while completely devouring you. You feel yourself becoming light headed and your body shaking as the wave comes crashing down. You let out a loud moan as you completely shatter around his face.

Astarion comes back up to you slowly cleaning his fingers off with his mouth while never breaking his stare. He slowly brings his face to yours kissing you deeply and you feel his hardness through his clothes pressing against you. A soft gasp escapes your lips as he undoes his trousers, springing free you feel his hardened flesh on yours.

While never breaking his kiss he slowly eases himself into you, the two of you exhaling the moment he fills and stretches you. He moves in and out in a slow rhythm, one almost matching the composition you had performed earlier. You can feel the passion and heat with every kiss and every pump that fills you.

“Astarion…” you whisper between his kisses, his pace quickens as if a torch had been lit under him, he drives into you harder, faster more desperate and you can feel him reaching his end. You are not even aware that you are doing it, its as if its become instinct, you turn your head exposing your neck, an invitation for him to have complete satisfaction. Without hesitation he sinks in groaning so loud you swore you felt the bed shake. You can feel his body starting to twitch and buckle as he comes undone, you find yourself exploding in ecstasy with him.

The two of you lay there, breathing heavy. All is silent for a moment until his gaze meets yours.

“Why?” You manage to choke out, your throat tightening. You wish you could demand answers, explain your hurt, anything but this pathetic whimpering mess. Your eyes are stinging while you hold back tears, screaming to yourself in your mind that you will NOT cry.

Astarion’s ruby eyes slowly scan your face, understanding flickering through them and his face softens; you think you see a hint of shame there.

“I was afraid,” he whispered softly. “I… I’m not good for you, Tav.”

You look at him and place a hand on his face. “Let me decide what is good for me. Please. It's okay to be afraid… I thought I had done something wrong. I thought… I thought you grew tired of me.”

Pain flickers across his features that vanishes all too quickly and is replaced with a quiet chuckle. “You do everything right, Tav… I cannot fault you on anything. As for growing tired of you? I don’t think I would ever be capable of doing that… ever… and perhaps that’s what scares me the most.”

You understand now. For an immortal, growing close to someone must be a frightening thing. Maybe, just maybe, the two of you could find a way for you to be with him forever.

You keep your thoughts to yourself and softly place a kiss on his lips.

He smiles and whispers, “For the record, Love, I’m with you too.”

#astarion #bg3 tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #tav #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfiction #astarion x female tav #astarion smut #astarion fic #astarion x you

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stardancerluv · 2 months ago

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A Space Journey

Part Two

Summary: New developments for Tyler. Reader and Tyler

Notes/Warnings: Mentions of fights in Tyler’s past. Esteem issues with Reader. Company induced angst with Tyler. Drinking. (Be safe and responsibly)

Runs long. It’s been writing itself. Ooh, he so deserved better.

❤️s, feedback, comments & reblogs are welcome!

Tyler, stood outside of the office. Opening and closing his hands, unease prickled him. The rain was particularly heavy today and he was more then happy to be out of it. He couldn’t imagine what they would want. He just had a very good salvage. They should be happy.

“Harrison, get in here.”

Turning sharply on his heal he went into the office. He bit the inside of his cheek when he saw a high ranking military officer and someone from the science office.

“You wanted to see me sir.” He kept his eye level straight. Just past the balding, company man that sat behind the desk and directed to to his salvages.

“Yes, Harrison. We’ve noticed you.”

The seat creaked as he sat back.

He felt his heart pick up speed.

“Me sir?”

The man nodded. “One of our bigger cargo ships has gone missing. It’s beacon recently came back online but no one is answering any of the coms we sent.”

The man gave an indifferent shrug.

“Perhaps, space pirates took it, raided it and killed the crew; we can’t be sure. But we want you to go and look into it.”

“When sir?”

“Fifteen days, Harrison.”

“If I may, depending on where it is why not send me now and perhaps I’ll come back faster then planned like with the Omega 17 salvage I just came back from.”

For a moment, a smug expression fell over his face. The pay day and his efficiency was superb. But he caught himself, and went back to a blank expression.

The man behind the desk chuckled.

“Told you guys, my boy is motivated.” The glanced at the two other men. “And he’s good. My best.” He gave him a smile. It made his stomach churn.

The military man stepped forward. “We believe, this time you will encounter hostiles.”

He pressed his lips together.

“Alright. I’ve never dealt with hostiles or anyone for that matter.”

“What about the few fights that led to a late night, dawn in one of the 4 by 10 rooms?” The man’s razor thin mouth cracked into a smirk that spread across his face.

This was beginning to sound like something he may not walk away from. He felt ill.

“Easy. You will get some training. You don’t get it, it doesn’t sink in before we need to ship out; we replace you.

“Hey, you said it would be my man we’re using.” The man behind the desk genuinely rankled.

Tyler never would have guessed that he cared one way or another.

The military officer shrugged. “My men will give you a rundown on how to handle yourself.”

“What about my crew?”

“Honestly? We are well aware of how important your family is to you, they can stay on the Corbelan IV, your cousin doesn’t need any help from us. Or we can give you a different crew.”

The man’s tone was as flat and as unforgiving as he looked.

“We don’t care as long as you accomplish what we want you for.”

“How’s the payout?”

The man behind the desk let out a chuckle. The military officer glanced down at him and back to him.

“If it all works out you will be able refit uthe Corbelan IV with the repairs its been needing and more.”

“Alright done.”

“Go to quadrant twenty seven at eight hundred hours tomorrow.”

********

Tyler, moved through throngs of people. Another miserable day in Jackson. His mind was a jumble. Did be really say yes?

“Baby want a good time?” Hand reached out, he grimaced and shook his head barely stopping.

He had to get out here. You all did. Damn, you had never even see anything else.

He was grateful, when he got to the Corbelan no one was there. He needed some time to think.

He plopped down in one of the chairs. It barely gave under his weight. But it would have to do. Looking out of the shuttered smudged window, he saw more dark clouds had rolled in bringing more rain.

He raked his fingers through his hair. He could do this. If he felt strong enough he’d bring the others along. How would he even explain using another crew.

He smirked to himself, at the idea of making some solid credit. They had wanted him. His eyes moved over the small sitting space. Grungy, cramped. Far too small. He rested a boot on the table.

Two small hands that had rough softness covered his eyes. A broad smile curled his lips.

“Guess who?”

He chuckled, tilting his head to one side. “My annoying sister.”

A peel of laughter came from above him.

“Guess again?“

“Oh! Oh! I know Navarro.”

“No!!!” You slipped to the side of him, hand on your hip.

“I knew it was you.”

He chuckled but as he looked you up and down, a smirk curled his lips. Damn. Even in your faded, torn company shirt and cargo pants you looked good.

“Looking good baby.”

You shrugged. “May I?“ Your eyes fell to his lap and back up to his eyes.

“Please.” He smirked pushing against the chair, it was unforgiving. So he could happily make room for you in his lap.

You easily made yourself comfortable. It relaxed him after what he had just gone through, good or bad. It had filled him with unease filled confidence if that was even possibly.

You wiggled more and then giggled.

“Tyler? Are you off world?”

Another giggle came from you.

His attention coming back to he rose an eyebrow as he saw you giving him a playfully serious look from under the shield of his cap. You were far too cute sometimes.

“Just the meeting I had.”

He made a face, mentally shrugging the feel off. He looked at you, cocking an eyebrow.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“What? Oh this?” You playfully placed your hands on his cap.

He motioned for it. “Give it back.”

“Nah, its comfy. I like it.”

He made a swipe for it. You avoided his hand and squealed.

Wrapping his arms around you he held you close. Easily snatched it off your head, pulled it onto his.

You were beginning to protest, when he dipped close and pressed his lips against. He felt a soft push before he felt you melt against him.

*******

Eyeing your reflection in the scrapped, mirror. You frowned. Even though the rain had let up and you all could walk to the bar with just ash and soot hanging in the air, your hair fell flat.

You had never been one to use taming spray. But it just looked so boring and dull. You had wanted to look good for Tyler.

Kay came bouncing up behind and gave you a tight embrace. You could smell the soft scent of the drinks she had been enjoying. She endearingly, pressed her head against yours.

“What’s the matter? Is my brother being insufferable?” Her eyes met yours in the mirror.

“No.” Your shoulders slumped. You patted her arms. “He’s great. I just don’t think I’m enough.”

She pulled back and turned you to face her. “What is this?” Her eyes were sharp with concern. “He adores you. I’ve never seen him so happy.” She chuckled. “So full of himself. He’s like I got the best so I am the best.” She smiled.

“Truly.”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen him so confident.” She looked playful. “If I didn’t like you so much, I would have pushed him out of the Corbelan long time ago.”

You smiled then. “If you say so.”

“I do.” She offered an arm. “Now, let’s get back out there! We have to get a few more dances in and have a few more drinks.” She gigglee.

“Yes!”

******

“One more.” He gave you a wink, taking the glass. “You gotta finish yours too.” His gestured to yours.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” You hopped onto the stool beside him, grabbing your own glass.

You glanced over at the small very jammed dance floor Kay was shimmying with some random blonde guy you once or twice saw in your sector of the mine. You had lost track of where Bjorn and Navarro were.

You looked back at Tyler in time to see him bringing the glass to his lips. In the hazy, warmth the drinks you had distantly made you jealous of the glass. Looking him over, you noticed how sweat prickled his dark strands, his cheeks were flushed and how he tilted his head back as easily drank the entirety of the glass.

A loud sigh came from him, slamming the glass down he wiped his mouth the back of his hand. “Ready?”

You nodded, happily taking his hand.

His hands were firm, as he held you to him. You fingers grazed through the shorter strands of where he shorn some of his hair. It was a wonderful contrast to the longer, soft strands.

You giggled softly as he leaned in close, his lips grazing your throat. He nipped at you. It made you wiggle against him.

“Man, I want you.” His voice rasped in your ear.

Moving just so. Loving how his scent enveloped the two of you. It pushed away the others or even the place.

“I will always be yours.” You whispered in his ear.

He pulled you even closer to him.

******

He rubbed his temples under the water beating down at him. He really shouldn’t have drank that much last night.

But then again, it was the night before the company owned more of him. He was doing this for you and the others. He had to keep telling himself this.

******

He swished the water and the paste in his mouth after scrubbing at his teeth. Might as well not look and smell like he had danced and drank the night away.

Going into the kitchen, he opened one of the containers and snatched up two blocks of the corn bread. Sighing, he munched on one. By the time he came back to his room. He placed the one he grabbed for you by the environment gauge and time giver.

Carefully, he pulled on his long sleeved, thermal shirt leaving the buttons undone, always felt strangled otherwise and then he pulled on a pair of his heavier socks. He looked back at you. He had wanted to tell you, more then he even wanted to tell Kay or Bjorn but right now, he couldn’t he had to get the feel of things.

A soft sound came from you, still asleep as you moved and settled onto your back. You had snagged one of his shirts. Seeing you in it, made him smile.

Looking away, he reached out and pulled over his boots. Another soft sound came from you. Maybe he should leave a note, but you and the others knew how sometimes he would leave early if he had a good lead on a new salvage. But this was different. He chewed the inside of his cheek.

“Tyler?” Your voice was soft, still heavy with sleep and he felt your hand on his back.

He put on a brave face, a winning smile

“Hi sleepy.”

“You are already leaving?”

He nodded. “Got to.”

“Ok.” He felt your hand leave his back. He shuffled a bit to face you more.

You looked back at him.

“Look you trust me right?”

You nodded.

“Good.” He chuckled softly. “Look I got some good things ahead. I promise.”

You pressed your lips together. “Good. Just be safe.”

“Me? Always.” He pointed at his table. “Look, I even nabbed your favorite. The corner of the corn bread.”

You smiled then. “Thank you.”

“Nothing but the best, I can give.”

You moved fast and hugged him tight. You tucked in under his chin.

“Baby?“ He without hesitation hugged you back.

“Had a nightmare.”

He squeezed you. “Nothing will get me.”

He felt as you nodded.

“Now you are one that’s gotta to be safe in the mine today.” He rubbed your back. “Take a tablet before you head out, to clear your head. I’ll get us some good rations for tonight.”

*******

A few hours in, sweat was running down his face. He rubbed his forehead with his arm. They prodded him, pricked him to draw his blood. Now, he was hooked up to something and he was running on some kind of device; it beeped in time with the beat of his heart. He could not wait to get back to you and the others.

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playboysaleen · 3 months ago

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Kalopisa. (3)

Kalopisa: (n.) The delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are.

Parings: Victoria Neuman x Supe!Reader (GN) (Slight AU)

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three

Summary: You never had the best life. Being abducted at a young age, being raised in the most wanted mafia as a weapon, hell- becoming the most feared in the gang. But…Truth is, you only wanted freedom. Being able to wake up and not have to wonder if you were going to see the sunset again. What happens when your wish partially comes true and you are offered your freedom but at what cost? Oh, you’ll see.

Warnings: Death, Swearing, everything you done seen is the Boyz is what you should expect here.

Word Count: 5.3k (slightly proof read.)

I just want to put out there that there is a age gape between Neuman and the reader. I think in the show she is like 35 and the reader is like 25-28. I dont want to make the gap so damn big but I know all ya'll reading like them older. Yall just like me lmfao. Imma take a break after this one cause ive been writing since 8pm and it's about to be 4 in the morning- Im tired as fuck. Enjoy and thank you for reading.

_______________________________

“Where is the fun in that?” You whispered as your eyes flashed the red that has haunted her dreams since. You wanted to kill her but something about her led you to wanting to see a certain side in action.

“You’re a fucking monster.” She grumbled, rolling out of bed placing on her heels. You scoffed standing up from the sofa making way to the door. You stopped taking one good look at her as she caught your gaze through her lashes.

“Takes one to know one mon amour.” she rolled her eyes as you leaned back disappearing from her view. You shuffled down the stairs seeing M.M sending you a look,

“If you a Supe; I wanna see some Supe action.”

You nodded, looking around the room waiting for his command when you swiftly moved your head to the side watching the bullet fly by your head into the wall. Your eyes locked onto his, sending him a smirk.

“What if fast reflexes was not on my resume?” Your eyebrow raised with a questioning look. He shrugged his shoulders replying,

“Then I would have to deal with a very angry Frenchie.”

“You would have made my life easier if you actually sent it right between their eyes.” Victoria spoke out walking past you, plopping herself into the chair next to Kimiko. She sent the girl a small smile but Kimiko rolled her eyes tossing you the strawberry covered donut. You send her a nod in which she smiled your way. Victoria huffed, leaning back watching you take a bite out of the treat.

“Most Supes have fast reflexes, what else do you have?” Butcher asked, cleaning his handgun on the kitchen table. Hughie decided to stay back to ‘keep an eye on you’ but he really missed the days it was you and him at the shop. You reminded him of a younger(out of control) sibling.

“Ah…super strength, super speed, but not fast like that blue connard (asshole). I remember Nina mentioning other things but I haven’t découvert(discovered) them yet.” Hugie stood up grabbing a folder from his desk plopping it on the table that was in the center for everyone to see.

“Y/N.”

“Who is that?” You asked, confusion swarming in your eyes. Wait- No- that can’t be-

“This is a file I found from one of our old busts. It was associated with the Red Rivers Underground Enhanced Program for children.” Hughie started, he opened the file to find a mugshot-like photo of a younger you. You were probably twelve in it. You remember the scar that was seen starting at the top of your right eyebrow running across the bridge of your nose. One of Nina’s boys slammed a hammer against your face for attempting to ‘escape’ when all you wanted to do was see this ‘blood moon’ everyone was talking about that morning.

“It says here that subject was admitted for a few days but then taken out of the system due to being too-”

“Dangerous.” you finished Hughies statement, when you sighed, turning away from everyone's eyes. You remembered that week. It was the week you decided to put a barrel down your throat pulling the trigger. You couldn’t take it anymore. The needles being pricked into your veins, watching the blue liquid course through you. The pain that felt like someone was yanking your spine out but what made it worse, they wanted to test your weaknesses. You were their submissive little mutt for a week with no blood in your system. You thought killing yourself was the most easy way out but you remembered waking up with a headache only to throw up nothing but the bullet that was intended for freedom.

“I do not have a name. I do not remember being called that.” You spat turning on your heels following the sign that read ‘roof’. The sound of the door slamming shook everyone. Even Butcher.

“Bloody hell, the kid has no soul. No childhood. What did Nina do?” Butcher spoke, snatching the file from the table reading all of the intel they had.

“Psychotic reactions. They literally snapped an officer's neck when given a stuffed animal.” He started reading aloud,

“No interest in children's activities, when asked about parents- the patient…” Butcher let his words die out in his throat but he kept reading,

“Butcher, what did that motherfucker do?” M.M spoke out, everyone's attention was on Butcher when he sighed closing the file clasping his hands together,

“A bunch of shit that we need. In all red it said- ‘Neutralization Aim- Homelander. Viable.’ This kid is the key to sending Homelander straight to the Devil's Den.” Butcher smiled once he saw M.M and Frenchie sigh softly. You were almost identical to Homelander except you were somewhat a-

“How the hell are they going to kill Homelander when they’re literally a vampire.” M.M questioned when Butcher tossed him the file,

“Little Nina didn't mention the potential shit that bloodsucker has cause she knew her entire organization would be slaughtered. Burned to the ground.” Butcher continued, Victoria sat in her seat soaking in the entire biography on you. You didn’t even notice but you were almost invincible.

“Let’s not make cauchemar feel like they are in another one of Nina's plans. They are good people once they let you in. Besides,” Frenchie defended you, rising from his position walking to the door, “they want the same thing we want.” Victoria stood from her seat walking to Frenchie placing her hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll handle it.” Victoria said as everyone huffed. Frenchie opened his mouth to protest but she leaned over whispering to him. “They don’t want to be pitied. They want to be understood.” Frenchie turned to face her, eyes wide but all he could do was nod.

You sat on the edge of the ironhouse building watching the sun slowly peek from the horizon. The breeze that danced along your skin sent a sigh out of your mouth, you felt free. Expensive perfume darted into your nose when you heard rustling next to you, burgundy slacks poked into your peripheral when you huffed.

“They must really be having a laugh sending you up here.” mumbling, you placed the bottle of chocolate milk next to you. You glanced, letting out a bitter chuckle.

“They must be since I volunteered.” your head turned her way when she shrugged her shoulders looking out to the horizon.

“Why are you still here? I should have killed you when I had the chance.” You spat. She turned your way sending you a look,

“But you didn't, so what does that say? I’m not who I was years ago.” She whispered her eyes still boring into yours. You tried to search for any feelings of betrayal in her blood but the way her heart sped up and her breathing changed…she was genuine coating her words.

“You killed Malina.”

“And you killed Tony.”

Damn.

“It was the underground way.” You defended.

“But there is no more underground…You did what you were taught. You don’t have to follow those orders anymore.” She mentioned leaning closer to you. Huffing, you ran your fingers through your hair.

“What do you want from me? I spent almost eight years playing cat and mouse with you and all of a sudden you want to be friends?” You spoke turning to face her. She raised her eyebrows nodding,

“We both want Homelander dead and we are the only two that can do that.” She said, you noticed the goosebumps rise along the side of her neck when you noticed the weather around you.

“That does not cancel the fact that Malina died.” You continued to defend the death of your…friend. Victoria leaned back huffing,

“For fucks sake, Malina worked for Vought.”

What? What- no.

“Malina was the one running the organization with Red River. She was the mole.” Victoria finished. Nina mentioned a Mole but after the countless integrations and fingers being cut off the mole was not confessing. Everything made sense…but you knew Malina since you were sixteen. Why would she-

“I get you loved her but why love someone that was finding ways to terminate you?” Victoria reasoned when all you could do is turn to the horizon, gazing back at the sun now fully visible.

“I am not sorry about taking Tony's life, but I am sorry about the reunion.” You actually meant it. Apologizing is something you never did only when Nina gave you that motherly look when you did not leave a perfect painting of the bodies from her hitlist. You stood on your feet removing your jacket taking a deep breath.

“I can hear them fighting downstairs about us.” You spoke, tossing her your jacket. Her eyes widen but you waved your hand,

“I’ll handle it. Plus, give Zoe a call, I’m sure she misses you.” Her eyes followed your movement as you walked to the door, sending her one last look. She could've sworn you sent her a small smile. Exiting the rooftop down to the boys, a chill ran over Victoria's body as she looked down at the jacket in her hands. She placed on your clothing inhaling your scent that brought a small smile to her face.

You apologized.

≈☆≈

You fucking apologized. You did not want to, but you did. It rolled off your tongue so effortlessly. Those brown eyes were as bright as the raging sun and the color of dancing flames sent you into this new feeling that terrified you. You were taught that the feeling of your stomach turning would be felt when you see the money in your hand disappearing little by little. The feeling of your heart racing should be felt when you need to do anything and everything to keep the underground private. If you slipped any kind of intel? Might as well tell your goodbyes cause you won’t make it to see the sunrise. Humming at the thoughts that danced along your mind, you opened the door to see everyone engaging in a very heated argument.

“Ah, music to my ears.” You sang out, strutting to the open chair next to M.M

“Kimiko’s making the most sense here.” Butcher claimed, crossing his arms as Hughie raised his own in defense, “She isn’t saying anything?”

“Exactly- Look, it is best if we let the Supes handle this one. Little Vampie-” You lifted your hand up towards Butchers name suggestion,

“Call me that again and I will rip your tongue out- What are we talking about?” Butcher scoffed at your insult but you heard his heart race. He liked you. M.M turned his head to face you sighing softly,

“We need to gather more intel on what Vought has on Singer. We have Annie and Victoria on it but we need more eyes since we can’t just waltz in there like some Men in Black motherfuckers.” He explained to which you nodded along gathering the information when Butcher now stood next to Hughie patting his back,

“And that is where you come in Little Vamp, you will be Victoria’s new assistant!” He said, Hughie displayed a look of surprise when you chuckled flashing a fanged smile,

“You can not be serious?” You looked at every face in the room and they were indeed serious. “Tu es.” (you are) you grumbled out running your hand down your face. Victoria was sat at Hughies desk sending the man a look,

“Their records are clean, you can’t say the FBSA will recognize them since all you have listed is ‘Red Eyes.’ but no visual or actual proof of who they are.” Hughie defended when you smirked at how she never really had anything on and against you. You were a free birdie- well this ‘Y/n’ could be your twin but it’s an easy dismissal with the matured eye color change and a nice wavy short wolf cut- you do not look like this…Y/n.

“Well that settles it!” Butcher interrupted Hughies' attempt to redeem his stuttering fit as he took a look at his watch pointing your way.

“Dear Neuman and Starlight need to be at Vought Tower by Nine, it is six. Hughie will take you to his place and get you a nice little office mutt look going,” You looked down at your clothes. You didn’t need to change-

“I look fine.” You said, Frenchie snorted nodding,

“You look fine Cauchemar, for a remake of the crow.” Frenchie joked when Victoria snorted, you huffed, shaking your head in defeat.

“I hope your inseam isn’t so tight,” You grumbled out standing up walking to the door, Hughie scoffed following behind you.

“I in fact have a big dick-” He argued out closing the door behind him, Kimiko snorted covering her mouth. Frenchie laughed softly shaking his head,

“I hope Hughie gets a picture of mon cauchemar.”

“If I hear another sound of that phone I am going to shove it up your ass.” You snapped at Hughie who released a breathless laugh as he stood in front of you fixing your tie.

“You look like serious shit V.” He smiled but you frowned at his name for you.

“V?” Your asked, he shrugged his shoulders adjusting your collar,

“I mean yeah…I know you’re like a vampire but I am not going to look like a dumbass calling you that so I went with V.” He spoke going over your outfit one last time giving you a nod of approval. He stepped to the side letting you take in your reflection.

“Oh the boys are gonna love this.” He said typing away on his phone. You stared at yourself taking in everything. A simple suit but it made you feel some type of way, you looked like you were…someone. The collar to your black button up hid the necklace you wore no matter what you placed on. The black fitted blazer was slightly tight due to you being a bit more built than Hughie but you weren’t complaining due to how it could shield your sleeves of scars that could maybe expose what was left of the underground. The slacks? You weren’t complaining, Hughie was maybe an inch or two taller but the struggle was-

“You cannot wear your boots into the Vought tower. They’ll automatically flag you.” Hughie said, grabbing a pair of his dress shoes to which a look of disgust flashed across your face. Hughie caught it sighing,

“Come on V, it’s just for today and maybe tomorrow.” Tomorrow????

“Do not tell me I have to wear another suit-” You started walking out his bedroom into the living room. Annie walked in through the front door, stopping in her tracks taking in your attire.

“Huh…so you can clean up nice.” Annie hummed out as Hughie walked up to her, giving her a chaste kiss. Rolling your eyes, you snatched the black dress shoes from Hughies hands taking a seat on the couch.

“Victoria is waiting for us outside the tower, we need to go.” You finished up tying the laces on the shoes that magically fit perfectly. You stood up fixing your blazer when Annie stood in front of you grabbing your tie. Lightly flinching, Annie's eyebrow raised,

“Easy…Hughie never gets his tie right, don’t need his minor mistake blowing your cover,” she fixed the black tie that poked out your collar. Huh…you didn’t see that. She tapped your chest backpedaling to the front door. You sent Hughie a nod as you followed Annie out into her car.

“Here are your comms,” she started as you both got into her car. Looking at the earpiece you grimace lightly, now you’re gonna hear them annoy you ten times louder.

“They will think you are Victoria’s little starbucks bodyguard.” She said watching you place the object into your ear, she started the car backing out and driving off. She went over the plan and who you were.

“You are originally from France cause of your accent- okay, you did a tour and now you are now working for the FBSA,”

“Woah woah, not those connards.” You spat when Annie just rolled her eyes pulling into a parking space. You sighed, nodding your head in defeat. Exiting out the car you button your blazer following behind Annie.

“Oh and your name is Alex.” She finished walking up the stairs, you groaned, shaking your head following her.

Your eyes caught the burgundy heels that connected so well with the tone legs your gaze were following. Your mouth almost pooled when you saw the beige skirt start right above her knees. She knew you were watching her, with the way your gaze slowly racked her body and to top it off a beige blazer with a maroon blouse that the top two were unbuttoned.

“No coffee? So much for an assistant.” Victoria attempted to joke but you ignored her going up the last step ending up only a few inches from her face.

“Write me up then, Ms.Neuman.” You whispered, your stare held fire but it only ignited the flames that blazed in her chest. You sent her a fake smile walking up to the main entrance. A shaky breath was released from her when she lifted her head letting her pride take the wheel as she turned on her heels making her way to the door. You held the door open as she walked in while Annie followed suit.

You watched in disbelief at how quick the woman placed on this million dollar smile and was this woman you saw on TV. She shook hands and hugged people you couldn’t keep count on in the span of walking into the tower to entering the elevator. You leaned your head back against the metal wall of the small box sighing softly,

“What? Can’t take a few hello’s?” Victoria teased when you sent her a look,

“Not when I can smell the blood of those men running to leur bite when they see you.” You admitted fixing your blazer aggressively. The doors opened when you were the first to step out, your body slightly rammed into a buff man.

“Watch where the fuck you’re walking.” he shouted backpedaling away with his eyes glued on you. You crumbled your hand into a fist as you kept your eyes on his. A hand was placed on yours when you saw Victoria leaned over sending a apologetic smile,

“I’m so sorry! It’s their first day!” She shouted out when he disappeared down the hallway. A growl bubbled in your throat when her hand gripped your jaw bringing you down to look into her very fiery eyes.

“Control yourself.” She gritted out, lightly patting your cheek with a smile when you saw someone walk by. You don’t know what happened to you but you unclench your fist as you sent her a nod. She took a step back nodding towards Annie who held the tiniest smirk, continuing her way down the hall. You entered a room that seemed to be a quarter for meetings, Victoria handed you her purse as you huffed sending her a smile. She mirrored you walking down the table taking a seat, you took a few steps back noticing a small chair in the far corner where no one can see. Unbuttoning your blazer, you took a seat placing the purse in your lap hearing the start of the meeting. A man started speaking and you tried your best but after a few minutes everything became muffled. Spacing out, you didn’t notice the woman that placed a hand on your shoulder. You looked up clearing your throat,

“I’m sorry?” The woman chuckled softly at the speed you were moving to stand up giving you her full attention.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to pry but I wanted to just ask…how is it being the vice president's assistant?” She asked, smiling your way. You internally grimace at how big she was smiling. It seemed a bit sketchy. You blew a puff of air out chuckling softly,

“It’s not for the weak, I can tell you that.” You spoke, the woman laughed quietly placing a hand on your bicep. “But I am very grateful to be able to be a part of the upcoming for Ms.Neuman. Look at her; she is extraordinary.” You gestured your hand her way as she stood talking about the military. The woman's smile faded as she gave your bicep a light squeeze turning your attention back to her.

“Oh come on, from the looks of it…looks like you are more than just her assistant.” She said pulling you in a bit closer. You can’t lie, you wanted to snap this woman's neck if she didn’t get her hand off you. You shook your head smiling softly,

“Just her assistant, unfortunately…” you softly laughed out. You heard the chairs moving and voices from the men when a hand was placed on your shoulder,

“Ashley, so happy you met my assistant!” Victoria beamed, you felt the woman's hand release your bicep when you turned your head sending Victoria a small smile.

“Oh of course, how could I miss someone looking this good.” Ashley gushed letting out a laugh, Victoria did the same but you chuckled softly to mask the hiss you held from her nails digging into your shoulder.

“Mmmh, I don’t know where you get assistants like this but I hope you have a variety of skills outside of politics…isn’t that right Vicky?” Ashley spoke laughing, patting your chest without giving you a light squeeze. Nervously chuckling, you glanced at the woman who still had a grip on you smiling at Ashleys remark. Her phone vibrated causing her to wave to the two of you,

“Work calls. If you ever need another woman under your belt let me know.” Ashley said, grabbing a small business card from her files, sliding it into your blazer pocket. You laughed nodding her way when she slipped out the room. You kept a smile painted on your face as you handed Victoria her purse following her into the elevator. Annie entered after you pressed the lobby button sending you a look.

“Now what the fuck was that?” Annie whispered-yelled when the smile on your face dropped.

“You did good defending her like that but do not let Ashley think you’re fucking the vice president.” She scolded, sighing loudly. Victoria watched the way your jaw flex refraining from saying any smart remarks. Shaking your head, you kept your mouth shut when Annie waved her phone in your face when you all walked out the elevator quickly exiting the building. You heard your conversation with Ashley ring in your ear as you walked to the valet. You rolled your eyes when you heard your compliment and your voice sounded a little louder than you expected. Neumans phone rang when you heard a gruff voice on the line.

‘A dead officer was found in your hotel room.’

You grabbed the keys from the valet waving your hand at the designated driver. He nodded making his way back into the tower as you hopped into the driver's side waiting for her to close the door.

“I know a place.” You spoke out after you heard a frustrated sigh from the woman in the backseat. You glanced through the rearview to see her nodding, you exited the free way starting your route to the destination. Once the call ended when you pulled the car into a small parking lot, killing the engine turning to face her.

“Take off your blazer.” Confusion flashed across her face but she understood when you started taking off your own. You groaned softly, rolling up your sleeves when a gasp was heard from the woman, you turned to see her eyes raking up your arm. You shook your head, yanking off the tie and tossing it into the passenger seat.

“Here is how this is going to go.” You started undoing the top three buttons from your button up pulling out your necklace displaying the sapphire gem. “You have to follow everything I do. Do not engage with anyone without me. Do not look at anyone but me and do not pop anyone understand?” She nodded, grabbing her purse as you hopped out the car, opening her door. She noticed a small run down building a few yards away that had music blaring out and a man being thrown literally into the street.

“You brought me to a fucking Supe club?” She spat when you started walking towards the club, she felt your hand sit on her lower back when you looked her way,

“The one place they will not find you. Trust me,” You whispered as she saw your fangs protracting out of your gums. Your bright golden gaze was now caged by the dark veins that swarmed in and under your eyes. You ran your hand through your hair letting a loose strand fall on your forehead. At that moment, she knew this was going to see a side of you she is going to regret but deep down…she trusted you. The both of you walked to the door when the security guard placed a hand on your chest. You were a bit shorter than the man but the energy that seeped from your skin caused him to retract his hand nodding your way.

“Je suis désolé, Cauchemar, tu peux entrer” (I am sorry, you may enter.) he spoke, opening the door wider for the two of you. The smell of alcohol and sex slapped you both in the face as you made way through the sea of dancing bodies. Luckily the only lights that were on were the black light helping the neon strobe lights pop out. The molded bodies soon became a few when you entered into the booths, you walked up the two steps that held a ‘PRIVATE’ sign. Walking right past it, you grabbed her hand sitting next to a woman whose attention was on a man snorting a line. You clapped loudly when his head shot up to meet your fanged smile. Neuman felt his heart speed up and a feeling of…fear.

“Je savais que je te trouverais ici.” (I knew I would find you here.) You spoke leaning down grabbing the man's shoulder pulling him close so that your faces were inches apart.

“S'il vous plaît, je vous donnerai l'argent bientôt.” (Please, I will give you the money soon.) he cried out, wiping the excess powder that covered his nostril. You leaned back nodding but quickly grabbing a fist full of his shirt slamming him into the table that sat in the middle of the section. A sharp breath was heard from the man when everyone around him scattered away like roaches. You looked up to see guards heading up the stairs when you raised your hand, noticing who you were they cowared away as if nothing was happening. The woman stood there in shock at the power you held in this building but what took her breath away was when the man spoke-

“Tell my wife that I am sorry.” He sobbed out, you sent him a nod grabbing the collar of his blazer sinking your fangs into his neck. Blood splattered beneath the man gasping for air when the woman flinched back at the sound of the ‘SNAP’ when his head whipped to the side. You leaned back moaning softly, wiping the blood that dripped from your skin. Your eyes found Victorias as you sent her a smile displaying your coated fangs. She braced herself for more of you as you leaned down grabbing the keys from his pocket. You sighed softly at the mess you made but moved towards Victoria extending your hand,

“Let's go.” She gave in, grabbing your hand as you helped her up walking further into the club. She glanced back to see the men grabbing the dead man and quickly cleaning the section. Her eyes widened when she no longer saw his body but the amount of people that entered the booth partying as if you did not kill a man. You finally got to the back of the club where a small door was hidden, grabbing the keys of the man, you unlocked the door that revealed a flight of stairs. You opened the door wider letting her walk in as you followed behind closing the door and locking it. She kept walking till she saw a view of the city, especially the Vought Tower. You sighed, scanning the loft of the man as you went into the kitchen grabbing a bottle of vodka from the cabinet.

“Get some rest, that meeting wasted the entire day.” You spoke pouring yourself a shot, Victoria couldn't believe your calmness after murdering someone in front of many people. She walked to the kitchen and took a seat on the barstool that gave her a view of your back as you searched through the cabinets,

“You just killed a man and you are telling me to rest?”

Oh she wanted answers huh. Opening the last cabinet, you grabbed the small safe that hid behind the old pancake mix as you placed it on the small bar that separated you and her. You grabbed the top of the safe yanking it off with ease, at least twenty grand, a harddrive and vials of temp V were stashed.

“How did he get a hold of temp V?” She asked, grabbing the vial, making sure it is what she thinks it is. You grabbed the cash stuffing it into the backpack that was hidden in the pantry, answering,

“He was one of Nina’s suppliers. She planned on getting enough Temp V to test and if it worked… she was going to use Compound V to make soldiers.” You spoke with ease grabbing the thumb drive and placing it into your back pocket. You grabbed the Vials from her hand opening them, you tilted them over the sink watching them flow down the drain.

“But he was short and on the run since. I was ordered to kill him the night before your FBSA killed the underground.” You finished dropping the vials into the trash can. You walked into the bedroom/living room going through the closet grabbing a bag that contained clothes. You tossed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt pointing to the bathroom, she kept her eyes on you when you spoke.

“Wash up. Tomorrow’s meeting was canceled…I heard Ashleys call on the way down.” You walked up to her when she didn’t mutter a word. Her eyes were just stuck on you.

You swiped the pad of your thumb on the tip of your tongue running it across her cheek, her breath was caught in her throat when you placed your thumb in between your lips licking off the red substance.

“You have blood all over your clothes.” She blinked away the trance she was in walking to the bed grabbing the clothes as she walked into the bathroom locking the door behind her. She leaned over the sink, her hands gripping the sides when she looked at her reflection in the mirror. God she was a mess, blood from the man was splattered across her face and stained into her clothes. How could you be this evil ...well, she couldn't say that about you knowing the things she has done to get her to where she is now but she couldn’t stop the whimper that dashed out her mouth when the thought of you running your tongue down your neck cleaning the blood for her.

She huffed turning on the shower letting the steam from the hot water fog up the mirror. You sat at the dining table with the shot glass between your lips listening to every move, breath and sound she made.

______________

Off to bed i go.

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threepandas · 3 months ago

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Bad End: Traps

"Darling~!" A rich voice greeted me, as I stepped through the final doors leading to an opulent office. "You're looking better! Are you finally adjusting to the anti-poisons? I know they made you feel quite sick."

THAT was an understatement. Try worst cramps and fever of my life, with a dose of puking for days. They put me on IVs. Buuuut? I wasn't gonna say THAT. Not a chance in hell. We, team Earth that is, were supposed to be here for DIPLOMACY. So? Fucking LIE~☆

Yep! "Bit" sick. Just a touch. Hardly noticed, really. Took a nap.

Veneni laughed, rising from the elegant sprawl she'd been resting on one of her "not called couches but totally are" things. To be honest, her voice reminds me of those old "radio stars" from the clips at the museums. All smooth yet husky, curling around you, like they're going to invite you somewhere dark to learn a naughty little secret if you're very VERY good.

Kind of voice you could listen too for HOURS, reading the most boring shit imaginable, and it be the best time you'd had in years.

I am... SO gay, for Veneni.

Like? You DO NOT UNDERSTAND. She SASHAYS. Not walks. Not strolls. Sashays! Like life is a catwalk and she is the alpha bitch here to show these other models how it's DONE. But also? Like she doesn't even NOTICE! It's just... effortless. How she moves. All delicate hand motions and rolling hips and curves.

That I Can Not Touch because she is SUUUUPER poisonous.

Which is? Frankly? Homophobic and a crime against me, specifically. Yeah, her whole species is like that. And it's why all of us are suffering through the Anti-poison adjusters. But STILL! I can't even "accidentally" brush her hand? No potential kissing of hot hot hot alien gf? Illegal. Blocked. Everyone here is a bastard and I want to complain.

.....not, mind you, that I have the metaphorical lady balls to actually CONFESS anything.

But you know... maybe.... maybe if I pine hard enough?

Good ol' stand awkwardly nearby and mentally project "NOTICE ME SEMPAI!" At her? I put on my nice outfit! Makes the girls look-! Wait, does her species even give a shit about boobs? FUCK. Okay, see this? THIS is why I was a flight assist. Just inventory and handing stuff to people who knew what they were doing.

MASTER of the fine arts of "I Can Understand The Instruction Manuel, In Case Of Emergency"!

Pretty good at coffee, too. Not to brag.

But, like? Jokes aside? Things had been... Bad.

Everything had gone to shit. Then somehow found a shovel in the manure pile and started digging. Started OUT okay! Really, it had! Travel was unexpectedly a bit rough. Some sort of space storm that went RIGHT over my head, but we dodged every major catastrophe. Got here in one piece.

There was a fancy meeting party. Whiiiich? In hindsight? Terrible idea. WAY too many people with hella poisonous skin, standing WAY too close. Only reason we didn't IMMEDIATELY lose the head diplomate? Was the regulation "new planet, unknown pathogens" full body biosuit. He? Got a HUG. Like... right out the ship.

Oof. That would have been IT, for him. Unfortunately, he didn't make it past that much longer. Someone's pet bit him. And? Yep. Completely fucking venomous. Lethally so. A tragedy, right? Outlier, surely?

Ha!

No. No this planet was trying to fucking kill us. It was a toxin coated hellpit and had so far? Murdered just over half the diplomatic crew. Those that were still alive? Over half of THEM were in emergency care. With just over a forth of the OTHER survivors being the only ones who could safely care for them.

Rest of us were either in isolation or sick as FUCK.

Isolation for those who needed to get rescued, because the Anti-poison adjusters would fucking kill them. Or sick as hell, for those few who remain that finally, FINALLY had found a way to Not DIE.

ALL WHILE PEACE TALKS WERE TRYING TO HAPPEN.

It was a shit show~☆

I? Went from basically a nobody? To "congrats! By merit of NOT being dead or dying, you're the head diplomat by proxy!" Which? Fucking WHAT? You could physically SEE the stress radiating off the poor guys back home, as they tried to speed run me through "how to not Accidentally A War 101".

I was pretty sure his cup, did in fact, NOT contain coffee. But I wasn't telling.

Instead, I got the honor of carrying the video call. Literally. Since our tech was incompatible. I got to carry the whole set up. Portable battery included. So the ACTUAL Really, Actually, Trained In Diplomacy, Diplomat could call in. And then I could look pretty and nod seriously at the appropriate times.

Mmmmhmmm. Yes. I agree. I both understand what is being said, AND support Earth's position on these matters! I have definitely studied the materials. Am supposed to be here. We have DEFINITELY suffered no catastrophic loses, pay no attention to the chaos behind the curtains! Diploooomacyyyyy....

God, she is pretty.

Watching her smile, her sensors gently shift around her like flowing water, the way her hand delicately gestured as she spoke? I... I wanted to build her, like, a cabin or something. Bring her breakfast in bed. Maybe adopt an alien dog together. And like? I don't even KNOW how to build shit. But, fuck it. I'd learn.

Cause I mean... you KNOW you got it bad, when you look at Toxic Super Hell the planet, look at pretty lady, look BACK at the planet that in no uncertain terms ACTIVELY thirsts for your blood... and go?

"So when do I move? Feeling REAL patriotic for my new home! Wooo, New Home!"

Yes I have a problem. Shut up, I'm aware.

A quite click signaled the end of their talks. Finally done for the day. I definitely, in now way shape or form, perk up like an excited puppy hearing the word "walkies". Because that? THAT would suggest I had WAY more dignity. I am a thirsty, thirsty bitch, okay? SO PRETTY. Nice laugh! Calls me Darling!! I have a LIST!!!

"Mmmm, what an unpleasant man that was. Did something happen to Mr. Ho?" She asked, stretching in the slow rolling way of hers. It looked boneless and decadent. REALLY distracting. "I hope nothing Serious~. We were nearly on the cusp of getting you home! I do hope he gets well soon. But, ah~, where ARE my manner today, Darling? You must be starving!"

Veneni sweeps forward to tuck my arm in hers, pulling me against her side. Even through my biosuit and her modest dress... I... I can FEEL her body heat. How soft and warm she feels pressed close against me. She smells tingly and spiced, kinda like citrus and mulled cider. NOT! That I'm smelling her! WHICH I'M NOT!! Because that would be so, SO creepy! It's just-!? You know-?! AaaaaaAAA???

She guides me to our little table. Probably set up for guests in general. But... you know... kinda like to THINK of it? As ours?

I REALLY need to stop while I am ahead. Good fucking gods. Ignore me.

Mmm, yes, distraction cake! Let's talk about THAT instead! Wonder what she-? I then choked on my drink. Because... because after bringing out the usual traditional deserts of she was teaching me about? And dishes I could try? Veneni... c.. casually as you please rests her chin, propped up on one hand, then reaches out with the other... to place it on my hand, which rests on the table between us.

Hear that? That's my soul screaming at a pitch only dolphins can make.

OH MY GOD.

I'd like to say? I don't immediately embarrass myself? But that's a lie. I make a wheeze reminiscent of something dying horribly. Against all odds. She is NOT immediately disgusted and done with me. Dear lord, my parents may actually have a chance at seeing me married! Holy FUCK.

Wait. No. Slow your roll.

SMILE first. We GOT this! Seduce her!

I open my mouth... and stupid fell out. FUCK.

"Calm yourself, Darling!" She laughs, the bemused fondness lighting up her face. "You hardly need to impress ME! Believe me. I knew you were mine the second I saw you. Nothing could possibly change that~"

Her cute fangs catch the light, deadly sharp. Her's is a predatory species. I wonder if they like social touch? Cause I REALLY want to cuddle. Hold hands. Touch. Ooooother stuff~ But! Mostly the Hold Cute Alien GF! Assuming that's where this is headed. Please GOD let that be where this is headed!

"I was thinking... and I don't want to be too forward, of course," oh god please do "and I hope I'm not interpreting things incorrectly!" You are not. Take me you magnificent, purple, high femme queen amongst the masses. "But... I would VERY much like to... get to know you, Darling. On a more... personal level...?"

I kept my lips pressed desperately together to keep from literally shouting the word "Yes" in her face. Be cool. BE COOL! We are both cool and Very Normal About This! Scream in incoherent joy later!

Y..Yeah! Sounds great!

This is the best day of my-!

An explosion shook the biodome. While the whole planet WAS toxic as fuck? There were levels to it's toxicity. Some places too much for even native life forms to handle. And, of course, no place that non-natives could safely survive. Thus the capital's biodome. Highly filtered air, earth, and resources. Built for diplomacy and several critical care hospitals.

Now under attack. Another bomb exploded. Cracks in the dome.

I could only stare in mute horror at the pillar of smoke. Because... Because that was the isolation area. Our evac's. Someone just blew up... Then my brain seemed to comeback online all at once, as adrenaline flooded my system. I looked between the still unpacked call system and Veneni.

A piece of tech or a high ranking, probably high interest target. My maybe hopefully girlfriend. Not really much of a choice.

Fucking LEAVE IT.

We had to go. I pulled Veneni up, told her as much. She looked so startled.

"Of... Of course, Darling. Yes. You're right. I AM probably a target, aren't I?" The thought didn't seem to have occurred to her. God, I felt like a monster having to bring such ugliness to her attention. Scaring her like this. But ignorance wouldn't keep either of us safe.

"I...I think there was a safe room?" She faltered, arms crossing almost artfully, looking so uncertain I couldn't help but want to comfort her. "But, Darling, I'll admit.. I'm.. I think I'm rather scared. Will you protect me? Stay with me? ...please?"

I couldn't help it. She looked so scared. So delicately small. I stepped forward, arms going around her. Pulling her close like I could shield her from the world. I wouldn't let anything happen to her. I promised myself. Felt her arms, a few of her sensors, desperately curl around me.

I didn't see the smile, pressed against my front. That quickly vanished as she pulled back. Nor did I notice the calm technician, hidden in the shadows of a side hall, who nodded at Veneni as I herded her to "safety". Would think nothing of how, tragically, my rooms were hit in the follow up blasts. How very lucky, that Veneni has rooms to spare. But oh~ she would not want to over step!

I don't notice a lot of things. But hey, things are great! I got a girlfriend! Or, as she likes to joke,

She Got Me.

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yanblr #reader insert #yanderecore #oblivious reader #in love reader #lesbian yandere #alien yandere #Machiavellian yandere #manipulative yandere #tw vomit #reader is sick off screen #reader is THIRST incarnate #lesbian reader #bad end traps #bad end traps au

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wing-ed-thing · 6 months ago

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Marriage Pact (Erwin x Reader) Part IV

Synopsis: To the surprise of the cadets, Commander Erwin is married to more than just his work. Their curiosity brings up fond memories of your and Erwin’s early days in the scouts.

Word Count: 6.4k

Tags/Warnings: Language, No Reader Pronouns, Fluff, Marriage Pacts, 104th Cadet Corps Shenanigans, Proposal, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Inflicted Injury (Non-Mental Health Related), Animal Death, Divergence from Canon Mechanics

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Finale

Notes: Erwin Smith has a playful side. Erwin Smith loves teasing. Erwin Smith loves banter. I will DIE by this in this essay I will—

You were ready to be done. Your days passed by with the sun rising over your early morning drills and setting past your office window where you slaved over your never-ending mountain of bureaucratic work.

As expected, the second expedition served little more than to record Erwin’s exemplary performance as part of expedition command. He all but took the lead, riding front and center as he orchestrated his new Long-Distance Enemy Scouting Formation (LDESF). The formation had been used before, but not with Erwin at the helm. You knew he’d be Commander Erwin before long.

All the backers had high expectations of him, and suffice it to say, he blew all predictions out of the water. No matter how much Erwin liked to deny and parry your predictions of his promotion, the evidence rapidly mounted against him. And with backers and donors all in agreement at his display of talent and reassurance, the Scout Regiment faced restructuring.

The following month was one of the busiest you had seen in your career. Save for a few elite soldiers handpicked by Erwin, the rest of his squads were relocated to be under different section commanders. You gained an additional two squads and a handsome raise while the other three were dispersed unevenly between Hange and Fletcher. To a lack of surprise, Fletcher received less than half of the members that Hange had gained, leaving Erwin with one special ops squad and a small team of medics and veterinarians.

It was the mundanity that centered you in the coming weeks, and the time you would have dedicated to reading into interactions with Erwin was properly directed toward your career. Your squads kept you busy, and the most face time you had with your fellow section commanders existed strictly between trainings and within supervisory meetings. And although you found it slightly more difficult than usual to focus on the new policies with Erwin sitting right across from you, your unconscious searching for his neat blond hair gradually dwindled.

The marriage pact was a thing of the past: a joke made after you and a coworker had one too many. You were ready to leave it behind, hoping you could laugh about it sometime down the road when you might actually be married.

Married, but certainly not to Erwin Smith. And his new promotion to special ops section commander only served to further solidify the fate you assumed was laid out for you.

In addition to the overhaul, the funds all four section commanders secured during the Military Ball allowed for an influx of resources, all of which had to be organized into expanded storage facilities. Trost Headquarters was busier than ever, and in the midst of it all, you hardly had time to talk to Erwin, let alone see him.

“Erwin’s in Stohess?” You frowned with a crinkled brow. Miche stood attentively as you both wordlessly side-stepped to an uncrowded portion of the hall. He held a sizeable box of supplies against his hip. Despite the heavy metal contents, Miche didn’t appear to struggle with its weight in the slightest. “What? Is he meeting Edmonds again?”

“Said he wanted to get some shopping done.” Miche shrugged, ever a man of few words.

“Shopping,” you repeated lightly with a downward nod, “In Stohess?”

Miche shrugged again, “Maybe to blow some of that special ops salary money.” His eyes were beginning to wander, thoughts of finishing his task more prevalent in his mind than whatever Erwin was up to.

“I don’t think Erwin is the kind of person to blow money, let alone in a place like Stohess.” You tapped your foot in thought as you played with a stay strand of hair at the back of your neck. Like most zones in and around Wall Sina, Stohess was known for its affluent districts abundant with skilled craftsmen and desirable goods.

“Who knows, maybe he wanted a chandelier.” Miche shrugged a third time, shifting the oversized box in his arm. He seemed awfully jumpy today. “I hear you can find quite the artisans there.” His eyes darted to the end of the hall leading to the staircase. “Gaffers, blacksmiths… jewelers,” he murmured. You wondered if he was waiting for someone.

You sighed.

“Well, if and when you see him, could you tell him to come by my office? You have better luck tracking him down than I do.” You gestured in the vague direction of your office space. Miche offered you a simple nod before you wordlessly left in opposite directions.

But even with a messenger on the lookout, Erwin ultimately didn’t appear during work hours to talk about the upcoming expedition. You heard him at one point. (His workspace was at the other end of your lengthy hallway, and the stone tiling bounced voices around until everyone on the floor could hear.) But when you had the chance to pop your head out into the hall, Erwin’s door was closed. Clearly, he had just about as many meetings as you did.

It wasn’t until the end of the work day that you received a knock at your door. You were already staying later than you should have. Erwin let himself into your office as you were wrapping up the last of your files. Your jacket rested on the edge of your desk along with your work bag.

“I’m a bit surprised you’re here,” he said, stopping in your doorway. Erwin leaned into the room, resting a fraction of his weight on the grip he still had on the door handle with one foot poised on the hallway's tile.

“I’m not surprised that you are.” You quirked a smile, dipping your head to the side in a roundabout nod. You placed a few things on one of your bookshelves. Erwin stepped fully into the room, closing the door gently behind him. “I take it you saw Miche?”

“We, unfortunately, didn’t see each other until he was leaving for the day.” He stuffed his hands under the straps stretching over his sides as he strode to your desk. He sat halfway on the surface as you continued filing your bureaucratic work. His eyes flickered down to your jacket. “I thought maybe I could catch you, but you seem like you’re on your way out.”

“I mean, how long were you planning on sticking around?” you asked, turning your attention toward the clock. You surveyed the small pile of items that needed to be filed away, weighing if you would be in the mood to deal with them the next morning.

“Probably not for very long,” Erwin admitted. He coiled his arms over his chest, still half sitting on your desk. His feet could still touch the floor. You heaved a light sigh, but ultimately, not getting the chance to chat with Erwin about storage organization and horses didn’t quite end the world for you.

“I thought you always stayed late,” you responded, more asking than stating anything specific. You shuffled a few things around your desk to look busy. You placed the bottom file you were holding on top of the top one before switching them back again.

“Is it such a surprise that I don’t live in my office?” Erwin cocked his head to the side, his thick brows high on his forehead. “I make plans, too, you know.”

“Like blowing your bonus in Stohess?” The words tumbled from your lips without you even processing them, a playful retort than anything of resentment. Erwin blinked a few times. The surprised crease on his forehead remained. You offered him a taut smile, trying to play off the forwardness of your assertion.

“Did Miche tell you that?” he questioned, shifting on the surface of your desk to face you more directly.

“Oh, you know, word gets around.” Your tongue darted out at him in jest. You snickered to yourself as you reorganized a few papers on your desk with your free hand.

“What else did he tell you?” His tone was straight, letting on little besides the hint of tentativeness in the undertone of his voice. You could feel Erwin’s eyes on you without even looking up. “Not much else. You know, tight-lipped as usual.” You shrugged, finally filing away the last two bundles in your arms. Your thin smile gradually morphed back into the natural orientation of your lips.

“Clearly not…” When you turned around, Erwin had his gaze on the carpet below. He rubbed at the bottom of his lip with the back of his index finger, holding an otherwise neutral expression about him. You couldn’t help but think he looked troubled: not overly angry or worried, but so deep in ponderance you wondered if you could pull him out of his own head.

“Erwin?”

“Hm?” He perked up out of his daze as though he hadn’t been lost in his thoughts to begin with. A beat passed the two of you by as Erwin discretely gathered his bearings. You picked up your jacket, draping it over your arm.

“I had some squad stuff to talk over. If you had time tomorrow, we can just do it then.” You looked out your window at the state of the sun. A few clouds passed overhead. You turned to peer at him out of the corner of your eye. The number of items you needed to speak with Erwin about far exceeded the ten or so minutes he probably had, and you were willing to bet that he knew that. “There’s also still the talks with the farms about renegotiating our agreement with the increased demand for horses. We need everyone on board.”

“That’s all?”

You turned to him with a curious hum.

“What do you mean?”

Erwin stared at you for a beat before shaking his head. He slid off the front of your desk, part of him still appearing lost in thought as he stared blankly at the shelf you had just reorganized. The side of his mouth dipped in tandem with his chin as if he had come to a mediocre conclusion in his silent debate with himself.

“What?” you asked again, finally able to wrangle Erwin’s attention again.

He blinked a couple of times. His lips parted with hesitancy.

“I just thought you wanted to talk to me about personal matters.” His chin dipped again. Erwin glanced at you out of his peripheral but didn’t linger. “But if you want to talk about work, I have time tomorrow morning at, say—” He studied your clock before turning back to you. —“Nine o’clock?”

Personal matters? Given the amount of time that passed since your supposed agreement— you still considered two and a half months to be an excessive amount of time to have never spoken about it to the point where it must’ve been purposeful— you just assumed the engagement was off.

“If that’s all…” He chirped before heading toward the door. You called after him and scrambled to the other side of your desk. “Horses…” he mused to himself.

“Wait, hold on a second.”

Erwin was already halfway across the room. He turned again, not fully facing you. His irises held a confused surprise in them as he stopped, looking at you innocently as he waited for you to speak.

And that’s when you realized he knew exactly what he was doing.

Jackass.

“What was that?” Erwin’s astonished voice snapped you out of your freeze. The feigned shock in his eyes solidified into interested amusement as his mouth slowly contorted into a barely suppressed smirk. Erwin stepped closer.

You said that out loud, didn’t you?

You grasped at something to say, a million thoughts racing across your mind all at once. Maybe you should apologize. Erwin was your peer, after all— calling him names was hardly professional— but was it such a crime if it was true? Or maybe you should clear the air and play it all off as if you had no idea what he was talking about. You could both never speak about the marriage pact ever again as if it never happened and move on— oh fuck it.

“What about our— the agreement?” you exclaimed, your voice so loud you practically screamed it at him.

He let you stand there as the words hung awkwardly in the air. It was truly a question drenched with desperation and hesitancy.

Erwin pivoted a half-step to stand fully in front of you. His feet sat almost shoulder length apart as his tongue poked at the inside of his bottom lip. He glanced off to the side before meeting your eye again. You wondered if you were missing something. The bridge of his nose creased, and the smugness you thought you saw before melted into genuine confusion.

“The agreement?” He asked, and with two words, your heart sank to your stomach. Erwin repeated it like a question, and you knew he was too smart to have simply not remembered. “I thought we were still figuring that out.”

You waited for him to say more, but Erwin made no motion to continue as you stood in the spotlight of his gaze, burning with embarrassment.

“Oh.” You breathed in sharply, shaking yourself as you slipped on your jacket. “Still figuring it out… Well, it's not urgent anyway. Let's just… move on from it.” You tried to make for the door, but Erwin sidestepped to intercept you. A single, firm touch found your uniform-clad elbow.

He spoke your name with a similar sternness, almost as if he were chastizing a child. He held a frown on his lips and a tension-filled crease above his brow.

“If there’s something on your mind that you want to talk about right now—” Any remaining amusement in his eyes was eclipsed by severity. You didn’t stick around to see much of it. With your gaze cast somewhere else, you shooed him out of your office, and Erwin said little as you swiftly locked the door to your office.

You tuned out whatever else he was saying, muttering some retractions to play off your disdain before bidding him farewell for the day. You exited through the stairwell at the end of the hall.

***

The third— or now just a routine— expedition arrived swiftly. You found that time passed faster in the service and seemed to with each passing year. But with most of your waking hours spent with a mandatory, purposeful rigor, you hardly felt the weight of what was to come until you were already seated on your horse.

No night full of drinking and games occurred that eve. Everyone had their fill of booze and celebrations at the beginning of the month. The increased wages for leadership, heightened equipment quality, and rations hadn’t hurt their spirits either. But above all, every troop appeared invigorated with the introduction of the LDESF, and their high spirits were palpable for the entire ride to Wall Maria.

The people appeared equally cheerful, if not more. For once in a long time, they crowded the streets and filled the air with their enthusiastic praises. Hange took their hands entirely off their horse, waving to everyone with an excited rigor.

You heard your name several times as you rode past the throng. The people of Wall Maria shouted words of encouragement, confident that you and your fellow section commanders would surely reclaim more lost territory. Even the horses under your saddles moved with anticipation.

You glanced at the back of Erwin’s head as he rode in front of you. He held his upright posture, not even acknowledging the shouted praise beyond a few polite nods.

You kept a firm hand on your reins with your eyes cast upward to where Wall Maria towered directly overhead. The sky was a rich, light blue and cast a pristine background to a flock of birds soaring above. Not a single cloud accompanied them as the atmosphere swelled with cool, spring air.

The gates opened a short distance in front of you, and the shuffling of your horse beneath your saddle grew more restless. As the heavy metal door pulled upward, light trickled into the exit tunnel, and you were on your way.

The squads fanned out quickly, with all four section commanders taking charge of their respective units. You paced yourselves, Commander Shadis setting a fast but manageable tempo. Even at the break-neck pace you were traveling, the whole battalion fell into place neatly, forming the arrowhead shape of Erwin’s formation.

You held your smoke gun at the ready, eyes trained on the peers around you for your first signal. You had significant ground to cover.

The pop of smoke guns sounded in the distance, draping the atmosphere in vibrant pigment. The formation drifted, forging on together as a titan appeared in the west. More popping echoed somewhere behind you. Horse hooves thudded arrhythmicly across the grassy plain. You swivveled your head briefly.

Two teams behind you had engaged with two five meter class titans and were making short work of them. You loaded your gun, shooting the colored smoke into the air to notify the rest of the battalion not to move too far ahead. A pellet of the same pigment shot up into the air from the west.

The formation leaned to the east, advancing forward directly toward the patch of forest straight ahead. Three wagons carted ahead of you, gradually closing in the clear path between the formation and the trees.

Everything had gone so smoothly. With a clear goal in mind, you had no doubt that this expedition would go by quickly. And once everything was finished and you were, hopefully, back home, all would return back to normal.

***

One of the Scout’s major priorities was to set up several bases outside the Walls, which was the main objective of your current mission. Utilizing the dense, wooded area rather far into titan territory, it had been a previous section commander who had proposed the idea of a lofted base of operations high in the trees.

After some trials and rigorous testing, leadership intended to have the scouts run expeditions from the base. Being in titan territory, many hoped that it would allow soldiers access to resources and medical care much faster than a trek back to the Walls. The woods also provided ample cover, ideal for ODM gear, which would hopefully make patrolling the immediate area more manageable. Not to mention that the height of the trees made this newly established base the most titan-proof, at least according to higher leadership.

The groundwork had already been laid. A colony of several wooden structures was built onto the branches. They were simple in architecture but boasted a sturdy structure. They housed enough to support basic camping and material storage, in addition to a landing platform just outside the roofed portion.

It had been a mission with a purpose and a clear, achievable goal to the end. The scouts utilized lifts to haul all the cargo up into the canopy, and a small team patrolled the edge of the forest to clear out any titans that wandered too close.

The few days that you spent in the forest went suspiciously smoothly. Your squads ran new drills to get used to the new base, and you worked with your fellow leadership to analyze their progress to report back when you returned to headquarters. And by the time your expedition in the forest was over, the scouts had achieved their best stats perhaps of all time. While your troops had experienced some injuries, they had been few and far between with the most severe being a broken bone.

The luck you were having made you uneasy as you prepared to depart. Your squad was at the back, following the rest of the battalion as the scouts gradually left the forest. In experimenting with the new formation, Shadis wanted to stagger each wave of troops to create a less concentrated grouping. Erwin came up behind you, riding around you to your left.

“You alright being at the back of the pack?” He stopped next to you, knocking your shoulder with the back of his hand. Erwin smiled at you, and you let the corners of your lips twitch upwards back.

“We’ll be alright,” you said with a nod. You glanced down at the ground, your horse shifting under you.

“I know you will,” Erwin hummed. His hand brushed over your shoulder as he rode away. You watched the back of his head as he took his place ahead at the center of the formation and continued to keep him in your peripheral until he rode away with his wave of troops.

You waited, watching as the last few squads trickled off. It was only when they had begun to disappear into the distance that your last patrols swung around the corner.

“Section Commander! We have a problem!”

It was too late.

And it had to come at the worst possible moment.

The ground shook.

You sat on the saddle of your horse, feeling smaller than you’d ever felt before. Eight titans bounded around the trees and surrounded you, all of varying sizes, but most in the 15 meter class. You were seasoned enough to not underestimate a single titan, but an entire hoard was an entirely different level. They completely surrounded your team, some hunched over and staring with drooling mouths.

Before a single word left your lips, one of your patrols bounded around the corner with a loud battle cry and swords at the ready as he swooped toward the nape of one of the titans. Your hand shot out.

“No! Don’t—”

The titan was too fast in plucking him out of the air and crushing your soldier in its fist. The other titans ran through your group at the sight of limbs and blood, causing your horses to move erratically.

“Retreat!” you shouted just as everything plunged to hell. You narrowly missed getting stepped on as the titans gathered around what was left of your patrol. A titan shot its hand forward to grab at one of your squad captains, and with a swift draw of your swords, the hand fell to the ground with a soft thud. “Get back to the group!”

You veered your reins, eyes on the group of titans as your troops sped past you in the direction of the greater battalion. Your forehead crinkled as a thousand thoughts raced through your mind at once, and in between the static and the rapidfire calculations, you quickly came to a conclusion.

You took a knife from your equiptment pocket and drew it quickly across the back of your forearm, leaving a long, red slit that immediately began to drip blood. You veered your horse around violently, causing it to rear up on its hind legs with a startled neigh.

Didn’t hesitate in following your orders, galloping through the plains at a breakneck pace as you started in the opposite direction. You hit your swords together, creating a discordant clanging as you swooped circles around the group of titans. You heard your name being called by a few of your troops, but they were whisked away by your formidable leadership team.

“We have to help!” one girl cried, loading up her smoke gun. It was smacked out of her hand.

“The section commander is buying time to let us escape! If we don’t leave now, the titans will chase us to the rest of the squads,” one of your squad captains shouted, his voice cracking. He hurried her along, all of your subordinates ensuring that every soldier was riding in the direction of the rest of the scouts. He gulped, horrified and grave tears beginning to pool at the corners of his eyes. “They’re acting strange and the section commander knows that’s gonna save out hide. Someone has to stay behind.”

You maneuvered around the trees, whipping around speedily, but not making very many strikes. Even for your skill set, taking on so many large titans at once— and by yourself— wasn’t an easy feat. Your skills lied more in speed, aerial agility and team communication, and only two of which was of any use to you in the moment.

A titan’s hand flew through the air, and you maneuvered just in time before the large palm smacked into the tree branch you were just standing on. The wood splintered and the limb went crashing to the ground.

You kept moving, falling deeper into the forest toward the canopy base. While conservation of gas always mattered on the field, you could afford to exert some more gas than usual in an effort to draw the titans away. Keeping their attention would serve to be the hardest, as titans by nature were more keen on pursuing larger groups, but by keeping the scent of blood in the air and right in front of their eyes, you could hope to lure a good chunk of the titans to the other end of the forest. You trusted your team and the greater battalion to be able to handle any stragglers.

You leaped across the branches, swinging both your swords down onto the nape of the largest titan. At the very least, you could get that one off your plate, but the motion left you vulnerable.

Giant hands swiped at you and fingers clenched inwards with force as you blasted through the group, contorting your body as you managed to slip away.

You shot your ancor at another tree, managing to use your momentum to your advantage to take out the ankles of a titan to the rear of the group. As it fell, you sliced the neck before shooting back off toward the canopy base.

Your canisters were less than a third empty and you would need to refresh them soon to take on the remaining titans. You blasted ahead at lightning speed and the giants followed at a breakneck pace.

The base sat just ahead, more in the middle of the eastern sector of the woods rather than directly in the middle. Considering you just restocked it yourself, you knew there were more than enough materials to expand your options.

Another large hand reached for you, and twisting at the right moment, you managed to spiral over the forearm and up the bicep to make a deep cut. You shot forward, ancors firing left and right as you swooped up into the canopy.

Even as your boots hit the hard wood landing, you were wracked with a feeling of dread that fell into the deepest pit of your stomach. You retreated into the rooved portion, releasing the blades you already had in your grips in exchange for fresh ones. Your canisters also hit the wood floor as you rifled around for fresh ones.

The titans, now joined by one more, crowded around the base of the trees. The temporary checkpoint wasn’t intended for longterm use in it’s current state, but as a stopping area to restock on necessary supplies, treat the wounded, and other services that couldn’t be done on the run with the hopes that it would elongate expeditions. It was meant to be used in the way you were using it now, but being a single soldier, you weren’t sure if a simple restock was enough to bail you out.

Titans would only continue to gather around you, and even if you decided to stay, you weren’t sure if or when you could possibly be retrieved. In all likelihood, your best guess would be a month away when the Scouts had their next expedition. That is, if they made it that far or even had the clearance to enter the forest. Even then, given the accumulation of titans without a patrol team to thin them out, you would be the reason many soldiers would be risking their lives. The base was meant to be used for a portion of a day or overnight, not for a month.

You stood on the edge of the platform, refreshed swords drawn and your whistle between your lips. The titans squirmed around eagerly below, gnashing their teeth and letting drool dribble from the open mouths. With a deep breath in, you called your horse before pocketing the whistle and letting yourself fall off the side of the platform.

Even as an experienced soldier, you didn’t think you’d ever get truly desensitized to facing titans. You supposed that the blunt nerves you felt was only a testament to your humanity. You tried to find satisfaction in that.

Your body worked on it’s own, diving straight into the den of the beasts and felling one on your departure down. It was a jumble of metal, blood, saliva, and teeth. The leather straps of your uniform were beginning to dig uncomfortably into you, straining your limbs as you fought gravity and for your life. They strained more than usual.

Titan blood mixed with your own, staining your steaming white clothes. Two more went down, then one more, leaving a hot mass of meat behind as you finally saw your horse galloping in the distance. You whipped through the trees, adrenaline coursing through your veins and determination manipulating your movements as you swiped past the very last titan of the group with your sword.

That was it.

You positioned yourself to be able to fall right into the saddle of your horse, your anchors recoiling as you sheathed your swords and took the reigns. It was a long way out of the woods, and even longer back to Wall Maria, but if you were dying anyway, you might as well try.

And it was a cruel sense of irony that allowed you to see the edge of the forest.

You rode along, trying to center your breathing and your head and you glanced around widely for any signs of titans. And when you saw the golden light of the day ahead, you were almost relieved.

It was right there, but so was that very last titan.

The just-too-shallow cut on the back of its neck was gone, and the repercussions of your carelessness swiped your horse out from under you in an instant. You flew forward, your ankle twisting as you landed in the leaflitter. Your thigh slammed into your sheath on your way down, and as you tumbled, your bulky equipment tore at your limbs as you tumbled.

You skidded back, somehow able to get to your feet. Sticks, leaves, and dirt scratched at the backs of your ankles as you came face to face with the ten meter titan behind you. Your horse was splattered against an adjacent tree, and your hands flew to your swords. You pulled on the grips—

You pulled on the grips—

Your eyes glanced down in horror at the grips jammed in your sheaths. You kept tugging on them, only to hear the sobering sound of metal shaking but not giving. And then the gear at your lower back began to fall.

It was only then that you realized that your straps had completely given way, having been torn and hanging limply off your body. Your straps, the ones that you had been meaning to replace. Your weight shifted to one side as one of your sheaths began to fall to the ground.

Your head snapped back toward the titan as it raised a giant hand in the air, lunging forward with its mouth wide.

Suddenly, a giant mass swept in from the side, swiping you out of the way and knocking just about all the wind you had in your chest out of you. You nearly heaved at the impact, but the bile in your core was sated by sheer shock. Another impact made you slam your chin against hard leather. You felt blood begin to dribble across your cheek.

Your head spun, able to focus on little else but a tuff of blond hair. The front legs of Erwin’s white stallion galloped under you, and your hand immediately shot out to grab anything you could to balance yourself as you laid sprawled out on your stomach.

“E—Erwin?” you could barely get the word out. “Why— why did you come back? I thought— thought you—”

“We had a deal. Don’t you remember?” He called over the whooshing of the wind and the harsh pounding of the titan’s stride from behind you. Your head spun from the motion and the thumping of Erwin’s horse directly under you. You strained your neck, barely able to catch sight of how Erwin’s bangs blew in the breeze. The sun illuminated the back of his head in a golden glow, and in the haze of it all, the only thing you could focus on was him. He glanced down at you, a slight smile on his lips. “I can’t marry you from the stomach of a titan.”

Electricity shot through your chest, but you hardly had time to think, let alone speak. Erwin’s anchors shot up somewhere out of your sight.

“Brace yourself.”

Erwin shot up into the air, leaving you to cling onto his horse for dear life.

There was a hiss from his canisters. The noise of harsh metal on metal rang out as Erwin manuvered somewhere behind you.

Light ahead grew clearer as you fought for your place on the back of Erwin’s horse, the stretch of forest you were galloping through growing shorter.

A great whoosh of wind came just before an even louder slam that shook the ground below, giving you little warning as you were thrown through the air. Erwin’s horse went on without you, leaving you to tumble out into the grass just beyond the edge of the woods. Your arms came up to shield your head, but your shoulder hit the dirt hard.

You rolled violently before skidding off a good distance away. You landed on your back, bleeding and unable to breathe with your eyes were still scrunched closed.

The uproar in the background ceased and you heard the recoiling sound of Erwin’s coils as he swooped out of the forest. He moved somewhere ahead, reuniting with his stallion. You couldn’t even muster the energy to look, but you knew your nightmare was over.

“You alright?” he called, and the sudden professionalism in his voice made your eyes snap open. You sat up in the field, wondering if you heard him right. And when your head swivveled toward him, Erwin wasn’t looking at you at all. In fact, he was already back on his horse as red titan blood evaporated off of him.

“No!” You answered, your relief being swiftly replaced with anger. His words had sunk in and the sheer audacity he had to speak to you normally after that slammed the energy back into your body. “What the hell, Erwin?” You screeched across the field as the world continued to spin. You picked yourself off the ground, debris smeared across your face as your stumbled to your feet. “That was the stupidest stunt I’ve ever seen! I had it! And you— and you—!”

“You certainly did not have it.” Erwin’s brows bounced on his forehead, his eyes widening for a moment as he blinked in adamant disbelief. His white stallion trotted slowly away from the steaming titan in the background, meeting you just a short distance away as you stormed forward, still subtly off balance. “There’s a reason those straps are meant to be for your dress uniform only. You can’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

You chose not to hear that last part.

“And you chose now? Now of all times?” You continued to rant, curse words falling from your lips harsher than you had fallen out of the air. Erwin paid you no mind as he dismounted from his saddle. You nearly had a conniption as he ran a hand through his hair before adjusting his jacket. “You haven’t said anything about marrying me once in three months and you have the goddamn nerve— We’re on a job for— Erwin Friedrich Fucking Smith, you waited until now—?”

“Oh, you’re getting serious,” he mused. You jabbed a finger directly into the middle of his chest.

—“And you know what, no! I’m over it. You do know that Pixis offered me a position not too long ago. When we get back I’m putting in for a branch transfer so I never have to see you again, I swear! I’m sick of guessing and not knowing and what the hell is that?”

You did a double take at the box that sat right in the middle of Erwin’s palm.

No, it didn’t quite sink in for you.

It would take you a moment, just like when you were still processing his words from before.

“Well, I wanted to wait, but if you’re going to throw yourself at a titan if I don’t propose, then I suppose there’s little else that can be done.” Erwin slowly dropped to one knee, opening the leather box to reveal the simplest, yet most beautiful ring you had ever seen.

It sat perched between two velvet cushions, shining in the light of the day. It didn’t even look real, and you were convinced that the sight in front of you wasn’t happening. The anger and annoyance that had built up in your chest and exploded melted away, leaving a confusing mix of energy and high emotions in its place.

And you were at a loss.

You couldn’t even think.

You stood in front of him with your mouth agape, staring dumbly from the ring to his face as your thoughts short-circuited. Every piece of inner commentary went blank.

Erwin’s brows knitted together.

“You remembered, didn’t you—?”

“Shut up,” you spoke quickly, but your answer only made Erwin tilt his head in shock. He opened his mouth to say more. Your palm flew out in front of you. “Nope! Shut it. Shut up.” You took a deep breath, glancing to the side and then back to where Erwin kneeled patiently in front of you. And it was only when you noticed the slight smirk on his lips did you spin around, your hands flying to your face. “Erwin, you ass—”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He caught your hand, having stood up somewhere behind you, and unceremoniously slid the ring onto your finger. He held your hand draped over his.

Erwin circled you until he stood in front of you again, one hand still holding your own. A knuckle pressed under your chin, tilting your head up and you didn’t even notice the small amount of wetness pooling in your eyes until he swiped the back of his finger under your lower lids.

“Are you alright?” His tone was ever-serious, but his voice was soft.

“Yeah,” you nodded. You squeezed his fingers gently. “Yeah, it’s a good thing.”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Author Commentary: I was hesitant to add the humor I did because I was overly concerned about Erwin's characterization, and I suppose the tone matching him? But then I remembered the first chapter started with a comment about how nice his ass was so I just—

Also, this chapter took so long because I had no idea how I was going to write the proposal scene and the set up. This chapter has been half done for months and it was half the proposal and half the titan scene. I actually hate writing AOT action which I suppose so many of my AOT works are about the characters doing paperwork at HQ... We ignored a lot of titan rules in this chapter, but what can you do?

Also also, this fic kinda turned into a different story in the middle of this huh? Kinda cool. There's one more chapter. I wanted to cut back to the cadets at the end of this chapter but I wasn't expecting the titan fighting scene to be so long. The wedding, the aftermath, and everything in the present will all be stuffed into the next chapter.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Finale

Deleted Scene - can you see why i deleted this now haha

Stupid, Stupid, Emotionally Unavailable Erwin Smith (Levi x Reader x Erwin)

Notes: I’m happy to add people to the tag list, but requesting to be added without interacting with any part of this series outside of your tag request will result in a swift block.

@goddessinsweats @lionhearted-soldier @answer-the-sirens @piercedddriver @scarletrosesposts @thewrittenromance @erwinawesomeness

#erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #aot x reader #erwin smith #erwin x you #erwin fanfic #aot fanfic #aot reader insert #x reader #x you #reader insert #fic: marriage pact #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #snk x reader

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