#just had to clean up red nail polish off the floor that wasn’t even my mess

[missbunmuffin]

I fucking hate nail polish especially ones in darker colors that shit really stains

[carterashofficial]

Octavia and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day

This is my bard's backstory. It starts about 24 hours before she wakes up on the Mind Flayer ship, and just goes downhill.

____________________________________________________

Octavia de’Mire (pronounced ‘deh-meer’, thank you very much) had woken up to a horrible crick in her neck, discovered she’d forgotten to clean her flute the night before, and- And there was a rat chewing a hole through the toe of her boots. Her only pair of good boots, which were also her only pair of shitty boots.

“Get!” She rolled out of bed onto the floor, startling the rat and herself, and let out a curse as pain flared in her neck.

Her foot has been tangled in blankets kicked to the foot of her pallet.

So it’s going to be that kind of morning.

She hauled herself to her feet and stared at herself in the mirror she’d nailed to a barrel. What she saw was fixable, even if the boots weren’t. “You know you’ve got this. Boots won’t matter if you’re good enough. Might even be charming.”

Her reflection told that she really should brush her hair. And that she looked nervous.

Tavi scoffed at herself. Appearances only mattered on the job when Angus got a bee in his bonnet and wanted his bards to match the decor, except she wasn’t going down to the Plunging Neckline today. She needed to put her best foot- or in this case, non-eaten boot, forward.

Angus wouldn’t forgive her for playing hooky. This had to work.

So she dipped her rag into yesterday’s bucket of water and washed off last night’s face paint, gave the rest of herself a quick wash, and combed her hair back as best she could. 

Her costume- technically it was a handful of different pieces of costumes she’d gone searching through the brothel’s wardrobes for. It was a ridiculous pair of striped pants, a frilly white shirt that had a suspicious stain, and a patterned vest that covered the stain. And her now-holey boots. And a belt that had probably not originally meant for holding pants up.

It looked like a clown had tried to make interesting clothes out of old jousting flags. Did everything match? No. Did Tavi care? Marginally. She looked like the bards illustrated in the fancy books she’d seen as a child, and that would work. She looked like she’d put everything together with intention. 

That was what mattered. Looking intentional. Like she belonged. Like she chose to dress like a grubby bard.

She reached for her flute and grimaced. It should’ve been polished last night, but Angus had her stay late for a well-paying patron who apparently had a hankering for a harpsichord, and she was his only bard who could play it half-decent. 

The filigree was dull with fingerprints, yesterday’s lipstick smudged on the mouthpiece. The flute deserved better, and probably knew it.

It would have to do.

Tavi slipped out of her room and crept down the hall to the window over the kitchen roof. A glance out revealed Angus having a heated conversation with the baker’s boy who was delivering the day’s bread next door. 

Probably how Angus wanted to pay the bare minimum for the crusts. A coin pinched was a coin saved, he said. It made him insufferable to the suppliers. Few seamstresses even considered taking commissions from him because he’d argue over the price by the stitch and no self-respecting seamstress would let anyone out in something that was held together with hopes and dreams.

The baker’s boy was not having whatever Angus was insisting on.

So she couldn’t sneak out on the roof, but she could instead just go out the front door.

The stairs creaked faintly as she slowly descended. The downstairs hall stank of stale pipe smoke, and leftover cheap perfume. The threadbare rug, once red and now a sad, faded pink, had sawdust piled in the middle of it to absorb someone’s emptied stomach.

Probably a good thing she was leaving early. Angus would have one of his bards (that sounded like there were a lot of bards. But really, it was just the two of them, Tavi and Adolphus) clean up the vomit, because his other employees were too precious for such a demeaning task.

She almost felt bad for Adolpus, but chances were he was the one who’d thrown up, because the kid held his watered-down ale like a sieve. 

Tavi made it to the foyer before she was caught.

“What in the hells are you wearing?” The voice’s owner snorted in lazy laughter.

Dammit.

“Good morning to you, too, Bea.” Tavi sketched a small bow to the centerpiece of the Plunging Neckline, currently sprawled on a chaise lounge with a little teacup of coffee and yesterday’s newspaper.

Bea sneered at her name. She’d started trying to only go by her stage name, Begonia. Tavi refused, mostly just to piss her off. Bea had started out as a bard, like Tavi, but she’d decided she’d rather be one of Angus’ ‘flowers’ as he called them. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, in Tavi’s opinion. Her distaste of Bea came entirely from Bea’s snooty attitude that she was now better than the bards.

They all provided pretty services. Tavi’s were pretty on the ears. Bea’s were pretty on the eyes. 

“And what are you doing dressed like that?” Bea’s eyebrows migrated down. “No, wait, where are you going? Angus didn’t say you had the day off.”

The accusation hung in the air.

Tavi shifted towards the door. “That’s my business.”

Her eyes shifted to the holey boot. “Sure, what little of it you get. I take it tips haven’t been good?”

“We both know Agnus gives me the worst rooms.” 

Angus had been trying for the better part of a decade to get Tavi to quit, because young bards like Adolphus were easy to take advantage of and he could save money by paying them with exposure. Tavi got five gold coins a week, a private room, and she got to keep half her tips. 

“Hm. Pity. I’m the best performer, and I get the best tips. I’m sure once you improve they’ll get better.” Bea innocently tucked a fiery curl behind one ear, looking the perfect portrait of friendliness.

Tavi didn’t have time for veiled insults. “Fuck you too, Bea.” She stormed out the front door of the Plunging Neckline, and right into a puddle of what she was praying was water and not horse piss.

Her sock in the holed boot was now wet. Disgusting.

She steeled herself and started towards Bloomridge Park, trying to polish her flute on her sleeve.

It wasn’t doing much.

She veered around a carriage of someone far more important than she was, and ignored the cries of newspaper hawkers going on about some murder.

Murder wasn’t that uncommon. Half the time it was because someone drunk got offended at a drunk someone else or something, and one healer later the dead soul was being brought back. Whoever had been killed this time would either be in a better place, or be brought back thanks to a fair amount of gold. 

She slowed on the sidewalk, seeing the line outside the park’s gate. A bright red pavilion was erected in the middle, the line snaking out and spilling down the block. Damn, and it was still early morning. Everyone else here seemed to have the same idea of getting up with the sun. She joined the back of the line, behind a woman in a brilliant blue outfit that shimmered as she moved.

Her own outfit was already drab, but now it just seemed pathetic in comparison.

The woman turned around to take in Tavi. Her expression said everything manners wouldn’t let her. She carried a lyre gilded in gold. It looked expensive, probably worth more than she’d ever see in her lifetime.

Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea. Maybe she should’ve practiced more. Or picked a better outfit.

Tavi returned to trying to shine up her flute on her sleeves.

The line shifted forward. 

Her wet sock squished. It was definitely not water that she’d stepped in.

The blue woman plucked at her lyre, humming. Further ahead someone had a massive drum slung over their chest and was louding banging out a beat. A lute, some violins, a pan flute were further up. Everyone was practicing as they slowly moved closer to the pavilion. 

Tavi pursed her lips and played a soft lullaby to warm up. 

The lyre woman turned around, appraising Tavi again. “Nervous?”

She nodded.

“First time?”

Tavi paused her playing, trying to see what this woman’s angle was. She’d dismissed her earlier, but now was trying to be kind. Time to play stupid. “No, I've been nervous before.”

The eavesdropping violinist behind her burst out into laughter. 

The lyre woman raised a manicured eyebrow. “First time auditioning for a lord?”

Tavi sighed and lowered her flute. “It’s that obvious?”

“There’s a certain… quality they’ll be expecting.” Her eyes strayed over Tavi’s wrinkled and overly-frilly shirt and mismatched vest and trousers, and then settled on the flute. “That is a magnificent instrument.” There was an implication in her words.

The flute was gilded in silver, filigree swirls around the holes and mouthpiece. The lower keys had little leaves engraved. It was far nicer than anything Tavi had ever owned. It spoke of quality, and Tavi didn’t look like the sort who had ever owned anything quality.

“It was my mother’s.” Tavi shifted to the side, ignoring the lyre woman as she continued to warm up.

The line moved forward again. And again. The violinist and her took turns saving each other’s spots to go run to a food cart or find a bathroom.

 Again the line would move, again, and each time Tavi hated her holey boot and foul sock. There was no time to run back to her tiny room in the Plunging Neckline for a clean sock that would just get dirty again.

The sun climbed higher over the city, and made it abundantly clear that summer was on the way. 

She wished she’d brought a hat. Tomorrow she would have a sunburn red enough to make her look like a tiefling.

They were close enough that Tavi could see into the pavilion by the time mid-afternoon hit. 

She was thoroughly tired of hearing the violinist behind her play the same three songs over and over. The drummer with the wardrum had vanished into the tent and the cobblestones had stopped vibrating. The woman in front of Tavi looked as though she was miserable in the heat. Tavi felt only mildly warm, because she wasn’t wearing a taffeta confection covered in (probably fake) sapphires. 

The park trees offered some shade from the sun.

And Tavi’s shoulder had been an unfortunate victim of the birds living in the trees. 

Another shift forward.

Then they were in the tent, and Tavi understood why the lyre woman had put up with the heavy dress.

In the red half-light through the pavilion canvas, it was hard to see where the jewels were attached, so it looked like the night sky fashioned into clothing. The sapphires were stars, twinkling and inviting. The sweat made her skin look dewy-

A servant nodded for the woman to go around the cloth partition.

Tavi took a shaky breath and flexed her tired fingers. She was sunburnt, sweaty, and the bird crap on her shoulder was not going to be easy to wash out. But this was what she’d been practicing months for. 

She couldn't recall the last five minutes. Nerves were making her fingers twitchy. She was next and good gods, what was she doing here, she played in the background of the second-worst brothel in the city-

The lyre woman began her audition. And she could play the lyre better than anyone Tavi had ever heard.

She risked a look around the partition and steeled herself. 

A thickset, stern-looking woman sat behind a desk, frowning and unimpressed. 

Oh, this had been a terrible idea. Tavi was not meant to be ambitious. Hadn’t she learned her lesson last time?

I’m an idiot.

The lyre player finished her song- 

How was she done already?

And then it was Tavi’s turn. She took a deep breath and shook off the nerves. She’d played thousands of times.

Tavi strode around the partition and dropped into a bow. “I’m Octav-”

“Just play.” The woman waved a hand laden with triangular silver jewelry. 

She stood tall and brought her flute up. Song of Balduran was a simpler song, but it was one of those songs that would worm its way into your head for hours. It was a favorite song of the city; everyone knew it and she’d passed countless taverns with the patrons belting out the words and echoing down alleys. Nop one could go a day in Balder’s Gate and not hear it.

“Thank you, you can stop.”

Tavi pulled away from the flute in the middle of the second verse.

The woman waved her hand. “You can go. Next.”

The world went silent. No, it was the blood rushing through her ears. Her hands had gone numb. She found herself outside of the pavilion, legs carrying her back towards the Plunging Neckline because she couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. Embarrassment and shame and other, harder-to-identify emotions were clawing at the lump in her throat.

They hadn’t wanted her. She hadn’t passed the audition. She’d skipped work for nothing, and Angus-

Oh gods, what had she done? Her heart and stomach seemed to be trading places; her heart sinking and bile rising. She hadn’t done enough, she wasn’t good enough. And she’d played as well as she ever had.

Tavi’s hands were shaking. She couldn’t think. The pain of tears prinkled behind her eyes, making her squint in the early dusk.

Had the woman even been listening-

She’d failed spectacularly. Her head felt hot, hands clammy, her hands wouldn’t stop shaking so she gripped her flute tighter. 

“And look who’s back.”

Tavi brought herself back to her surroundings. She’d made it back to the Plunging Neckline and Angus was leaning against the front window, blocking the gawking passerby from catching a look at whoever was meant to be dancing.

Somewhere, Fate was probably laughing at the cruel joke of the situation.

“Angus, I can-”

“Nope, I ain’t gonna hear it. What’s the point of letting you live here if you ain’t even gonna do your job?” He spat at her feet. “Consider yourself now lookin’ for employment. An’ don’t use me as a reference.”

Tavi felt like she’d been hit with a fireball. “What?” she repeated. That couldn’t have been her voice, it was too thin, too high- Oh dear. She was going to cry.

“I’m no longer employin’ you. I’m terminating your job. Canceling your position. However you wanna put it, just don’t come back for nothing.” Angus generously spat at her feet again.

She caught the sight of Bea watching her with a smirk in the window.

Angus waved at her. “Now shoo, you’re blockin the door from cust’mers.”

Tavi opened and shut her mouth. Everything had gone silent because her ears were ringing. Heart pounding. Her skin felt tingly and both too hot and too cold, fingers numb again.

Fired.

A failure.

Shame burned at her throat. Or perhaps it was bile, and she was going to vomit up her heart.

She didn’t have anywhere else to go. Her clothes, her books, the good pillow she’d bought with a month’s worth of wages. “I need my stuff-”

Angus paused in the doorway. “Forfeit for the day’s work. And for takin’ costumes.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “You took advantage of me, so it’s all fair. I coulda called the Fists. Now get or I will call ‘em.”

Tavi took a step back, and another, and another, until she realized she’d made it back to Bloomridge Park, watching the great pavilion be taken down. She entered through a different gate, and stood there, trying to breathe and tell herself that it would be alright. 

Except she had nothing to her name, save her flute and the ridiculously stupid over-the-top bard costume. 

A tear leaked out. She was going to cry, and she didn’t care. Tavi slipped deeper into the park, to one of the private fountains that would muffle her tears. Dusk was being evicted as night fell. She sunk down in front of the fountain and let out the sobs. 

Come on, think!

Her mind lost the battle to her emotional turmoil. She could think about what to do later. A good cry would sort her out emotionally-

Tavi whipped her head around, ponytail flying and crick in her neck protesting, as she listened. She could have sworn she’d heard something over the gurgling fountain.

Hadn’t the newsboy that morning mentioned a murder?

It had probably been a rat in the bushes, if she’d even heard anything. But still, this wasn’t a safe place to be, even if she didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Tavi stood-

And everything went black.

[akamikazae]

Love me Mercilessly 🍁Kakashi x Akami🍁 Chapter 32: Loose toothed and tight lipped word Count: 19k tw: mentions of blood/suicide, sexual content, previous chapters: Ao3 or under my tag ‘Love me Mercilessly’

Kakashi struggles with what he wants and what he thinks he deserves, his internal conflict causes him to revert to old behaviors. Sasuke looses the last piece of his childhood and Akami doesn't want to let it go. But it also comes with a sudden, jarring unexpected realization, one she won't admit to.

Kakashi stopped by Akami’s office, she wanted him to see it now that she hauled off all the junk and dusted out the cobwebs. Her very own office with a desk and a window with a view. She even had a cup filled with loose mismatched pens perched on the corner of the desk. The back and side walls were a muted emerald green, offset with a warm beige that paired with the rich natural floors and mahogany furnishings. It felt more like a library than an office. 

“Look!” Akami said, “I’m a real person now, with a real job and a whole desk!” She hopped up to sit on the edge of said desk. “And I don’t get blood under my fingernails or nothing!”

Kakashi smiled, he wouldn’t know—she painted them now, she didn’t before because the nail polish would chip off an hour into training. Now they’re nice and trim and her cuticles are clean, today they were painted a cool shade of red.  Sometimes red nails looked a little trashy but it was a color that suited her skin, she looked especially pretty when she tucked her bangs behind her ears or scratched the side of her nose, red made her eyes shine and the mauve markings around her eyes pop. 

It was crazy how varied one single color could be, like the vivid incredulous red of his fathers blood. The blood he scrubbed out of his own living room floor. That stained his fathers shirt and dripped from his famous blade. That red seeped into the weave of the tatami and spread out turning a putrid pink. And when he came home from the hospital that once rich gooey blood dried on his hands in crumbly burgundy flecks. 

The red of her nails was pretty, not grotesque or trashy. It made him happy that she didn’t have to have blood build up in her nail beds and that her hands weren’t dry from washing out stains with bleach and peroxide. She was a normal person with a normal person job. (As normal as Shinobi jobs got anyway). He didn’t know how he’d fit into her normal life. Would he sit in a framed photograph on her desk beside the one of Sasuke? Or would he be another case file, stored in the tall black cabinet by the door. And Kakashi wondered—right as she leaned back on her palm and crossed one leg over the other—if he’d feel like a normal person inside her. 

His eyes followed the curve of her legs, accentuated by the fit of her normal pants, not at all suited for combat. He closed the distance between them two steps at a time, she uncrossed her legs and invited him in. Akami unzipped his Jonin vest, he wore it all the time, just because everyone already knew he was Anbu didn’t stop him from pretending he wasn’t. 

Kakashi leaned in enough that he could still look at the pretty golden yellow of her eyes, and the parting of her lips as she sighed softly. Her knees braced over his hips. He slipped his mask down to feel her breath fan across his face and brushed his thumb over her plump bottom lip. “Fuck me on my whole desk” she whispered to the hand cupping her jaw, her secrets felt safest there. 

Kakashi leaned in, taking her lip between his. “Yes Ma’am,” he spoke into her mouth. He felt her lips curl and he cradled the back of her head, angling it back to deepen the kiss. 

She ran her hands up under his shirt to feel his chest. She loved and also hated how broad and full he was. It made her feel safe in a way she didn’t think any one person could ever make her feel—she splayed her fingers over his pecs and worried for a minute that Kakashi and that feeling would slip away, oozing through the space between her fingers. 

He kneaded the edge of her hip and he pulled away from her lips with a pop. He hoisted her legs over his sides and laid her back. He swatted the cup of pens to the floor with the back of his hand not breaking eye contact. It made her laugh, and Kakashi wished she had another cup of crap he could unnecessarily swat away just to hear it again. Akami buried her smile into his jaw, nipping and kissing at his neck.

He ran his hands up the sides of her waist and beneath her shirt, hiking it up over her bra. He mimicked her and placed small pecks from her collar bone to her stomach—It was strong like the rest of her except for a tiny part just below her bellybutton, beside that giant sweeping scar. The scar that crept up over her high waisted pants, she helped him shimmy them down. He kissed the jagged pink flesh wet and tender, scraping her skin with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue. She hummed her approval and combed her fingers through his hair. He could smell that she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her. Kakashi hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants and tugged them all the way off. 

He kissed her over her panties, they were sleek and red–not silk but a material a lot like silk–silk wouldn’t be practical and it made him like them even more. She whined from the back of her throat when he did it again, the bright red satin turned a shade darker from his lips. “These are awfully pretty to wear to work,” he said. 

Akami could feel the thrum of his voice between her legs, it fluttered around her stomach.  “Who said they were for work,” 

He smirked as she struggled to keep her voice composed and he got down on his knees. He pulled her hips to the edge of the desk and hooked her knees over his shoulders. Kakashi slipped her pretty panties to the side. He put his mouth on her and felt stupid for imagining that it would make him feel normal. 

Her painted nails raked through his hair and she tugged when he dragged the flat of his tongue from bottom to top, gathering her arousal and sealing his lips to her clit. She made this gagging gurgling sound so he sucked harder and slipped a finger–and then a second inside her. Her hips jumped and he dug his other hand into the meat of her thigh. “Fuck..” he panted, “You taste so good”.. .being normal was overrated.

Akami’s orgasm started just behind her belly button then hit hard against her pelvic floor. 

Kakashi curled his fingers and she whined soft and high pitched. She felt his tongue, his lips and teeth. She swore she could even feel that mole she loved, the mole beneath his lip, the mole only she knew about… my mole. 

He sucked and kissed and lapped at her clitoris and Akami felt like he was sucking her up with a straw. The pads of his fingers found that spot that made her moan loud and lewd, her fingers twisted into the edge of the desk and the hair on the nape of his neck. 

Kakashi kissed the inside of her trembling thighs, giving them his undivided attention and stroking his fingers into the fat of her hips. Akami opened her eyes which had been screwed shut since she moaned like an animal, Kakashi was looking up at her from right between her legs. It felt like hours had passed, or just mere seconds, time stopped congealing into this single moment. He wanted her to watch as he pulled another orgasm from her. He leaned down to kiss her there, it was soft and sickly sweet. She whispered his name like it meant something more. 

He felt superhuman when she writhed against his mouth. He curled his fingers once–twice, she tried to close her legs around his head. Her orgasm oozed out of her all over his mouth and hand. It seeped into her vital organs and degraded her liver. 

  “Fuck…” Akami whispered, her eyelids fluttered telling. He laughed, kissing the soft part of her stomach, she could feel it vibrate up her spine. 

Kakashi crawled back over her. The sheen of sweat on her skin made it look as if she were glistening, like the surface of the ocean in the moonlight. He liked a stripe up the side of her neck to see if she tasted as glimmery as she looked. 

He nibbled on the skin beneath her ear, and she could feel how slick his lips were. She chuckled–a faint and breathless sound—and wrapped her hands around his neck and tucked her feet into the bottom of his butt to hold him there as long as possible. 

Akami’d been wondering if her stomach bug had actually been a parasite–and she gave it to Kakashi, because since that day he’d been a completely different person. He always left with so many words unsaid. Akami could feel it but she didn’t know what it was he wanted to say. All she knew was that she wanted him to be her best friend and to have the soul shattering sex they had. She knew she couldn’t have it both ways so she let him say nothing. Because she worried that she’d said too much, and pushed him too fast, ‘I love your hands.’ Maybe he’d heard the private confession meant just for his palm, ‘you make me feel seen.’ And he was trying to tell her he wanted to go back, or maybe he was trying to pull away completely but didn’t know how. So she was abundantly pleased that him coming to see her office escalated the way it had…with two necrotic orgasms. 

Akami sat up and slipped her panties off all the way, she thrust them in her pocket. She stepped back into her pants when she saw that Kakashi was satisfied by just satisfying her. 

He opened the door and she pulled his mask up over his face, sliding her thumbs down either side of his nose. Akami didn’t want him to leave. She wouldn’t say as much so she settled for walking him out of the building. 

They stepped out of her office into the hallway, he wrapped his hand around her ass and squeezed. She laughed and leaned into his side. 

Akami moved her balled up red satin panties from her pocket to her other hand. They turned the corner and Akami walked him back into the wall, he smiled beneath his mask and moved his hands to her hips. 

“If you can wait until tonight,” She spoke against his jaw, “I’ll return the favor,” and she traced her fingers over his half-erect cock, he took in a sharp breath. “Think you could hold on to these for me until then?” Akami tried to slip her panties into the front pocket of his pants, she glanced up at him beneath hooded eyes to find he was staring over her head, wide-eyed. Kakashi let go of her immediately and the rest of him went as stiff as his dick…And that was when she felt it. 

Shikaku was sitting on the other side of the third floor lobby chewing on one end of a pen and wearing his slyest grin. Akami turned around and was as dumbstruck as Kakashi. 

Shikaku looked like the big bad wolf himself… My, what big teeth you have. And she swore she saw him think right back with his pitch black eyes…Better to sneer at you with, little lady.  

Akami and Kakashi were so accustomed to being extra cautious at her house that having sex in her office–on the abandoned third floor of the intelligence building–that neither of them considered that Shikaku could swing by his office–sharing the same wall as Akami’s—at any time. They didn’t even sense his chakra…though that was probably intentional on his part. 

It would have been better if he had just gone into his office—and heard all her desperate and depraved moans— and saved them all the embarrassment. But it wasn’t in Shikaku’s nature, not only did he get one over on her, but he had managed to catch two of the highest ranking Anbu operatives in the Village red handed…Quite literally red handed, Akami followed Shikaku’s eyes as they trailed down to her hand, still clutching the red thong half hanging out of Kakashi’s pants. She hastily shoved them as far down in his pocket as they could go.

The second she did Kakashi shunshined away leaving her to get scolded by herself.  She glared at the spot he once stood and promised to make him pay for it later… there will be zero! reciprocation. 

Shikaku snorted and Akami turned her glare to him. She wasn’t worried for the security of her job but only for the complete and total loss of her dignity. She didn’t even know what to say. She was too proud to apologize, not when Shikaku could have left and come back later if he heard things he didn’t want to hear. It was her office, the door was shut.

Akami opened her mouth to try and say as much, flip it so he looked like that creep who got caught, but no words came out. 

“That good huh?” Shikaku grinned as her mouth hung open. 

Akami snapped her jaw shut, and scoffed–though if you asked Shikaku it sounded more like a growl—She stuck her nose up and marched back towards her office like she didn’t care what he thought. She shut the door with a slam, and threw herself into the chair behind her desk putting her feet up. She lost her dignity but she still had her pride…what little pride remained when she heard his croaky laugh as clear as if she’d been in the room with him. Akami sank lower into her seat and groaned… he probably heard everything.  

read the rest on Ao3

[thesmokingguns]

Off To the Races

Pairing: Nikki Sixx!Douglas Booth

Request: Off To The Races by Lana Del Rey

Summary: You are my one true love. She is there for him at all of his worst moments. Coaxing him through his high, making him smile and laugh. She’s at parties dancing with her red smile calling for him. She’s swimming in the pool when he’s drunk and stoned. She’s there through it all. No ones loved Nikki like her. All consuming. His only thought. She is his entire world. And his works is crumbling.

Warning: Heavy themes of drug use, drug induced hallucinations, alcohol abuse, suicidal thoughts.

Word Count: 2270

Taglist: @littlemisscare-all​​​​​ @ayablackwood​​​​​ @agroupiewhore@thenobodies-inc​​​​​ @dannasixxworld​​​​ @val-sixx​​​​@nikkisqueenofsleaze​​​​ @rocknrollsoul76​ @aggressive-slytherin​

My old man is a bad man, but

I can't deny the way he holds my hand

And he grabs me, he has me by my heart

He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past

He doesn't mind I have a L.A. crass way about me

He loves me, with every beat of his cocaine heart

My eyes are heavy, fingers twisting the belt around my arm to loosen the pressure. The needle drops to the floor, the carpet holding any sound in. Blinking, looking around the cramped closet I see my journal, my revolver, and more smack for after this dosage.

What a life.

My head rolls back smacking the wood paneling with a dull thud that vibrates through me. My hands shaking, waves of fingers in front of me. There’s a bit of blood coming from the injection pin prick in my arm and I’m find myself stumbling to my feet, sweeping the gun off the floor and tucking it in the waistband of my jeans as I head to the bathroom.

It’s washing over me, the feeling I’m always chasing. The fleeting moment of happiness is like a warm blanket wrapping itself around me.

The giggle stops me in my tracks, eyes searching the hallway searching for her. I thought she had left after our last fight. She called me a quitter and was mad I was giving up my partying ways. She loved to have a good time and she thought I was giving up on her.

Guess she was wrong.

The flash of brown hair catches my attention and I’m stumbling, laughing as I chase her through the house. Her laughter was infectious and made me forget about the blood dripping down my forearm.

In the kitchen she turns, giving me that megawatt smile that felt like my heart was feeling something other than the melancholy that usually filled it. She stops and lets me catch her, letting me wrap my arms around her holding her close to me. Smelling the exotic sweetness of her hair as she engulfs me with her golden skin, bangles tinkling down her arms like a musical number.

Safe and warm, happiness and euphoria of her presence with me here. The place that was my Mecca of solitude. Pulling back, confused for a second I try to think about how she got here.

“How did you get in?” As if she senses the confusion in my voice she kisses me, giving me no doubt she is here with me. Warm and solitude against my skin, fire in my veins.

“You let me in.” She purred, letting her mouth kiss along my jawline. Soft hot breath tickling me as she pressed against me, bumping the gun as she rolled her body against mine. “It looks like you’re locked and loaded, ready to go.” Her hands in my hair as she’s touching parts of me I forgot existed.

God I missed this.

Swimmin' pool glimmerin', darling

White bikini off with my red nail polish

Watch me in the swimmin' pool, bright blue ripples

You sittin', sippin' on your Black Cristal, oh yeah

Light of my life, fire of my loins

Be a good baby, do what I want

Light of my life, fire of my loin

I wake up with a gasp.

What time is it? What day is it? Where am I?

Looking around, frantic panic as I realize I’m asleep in the lawn chair by the pool. An empty bottle of Jack Daniels is smashed beside me, glass decorating the concrete in sharp glares of warning.

The sound of a splash throws me off and there she is. Her brown hair wet as she rests her elbows outside the pool, placing her head in her hands with that gleaming smile.

“Well hello sleepyhead. Did you have good dreams?” I don’t know if she’s asking out of kindness or mocking me. I’m drenched in sweat, possibly from falling asleep in the LA afternoon but most likely from the night terrors that always haunt me.

I dreamt I was running. From who or from what was the issue. Everything in my brain was foggy. My eyes snapped up at the setting sun. Has it been a full day already? Was it longer?

The phone rang from inside the house and I knew it must be someone from the band calling or my drug dealer. One of those felt more important than the other and I wasn’t ready to admit which one that was.

I got up, swearing as a piece of glass cut open my door, glaring as she giggle and dipped under the water. A trail of blood followed me into the house as I picked up the phone.

“Hello.” My voice felt gruff and it hurt to talk, like I hadn’t used it in a while. My head was killing me and I felt ready to throw up.

What the fuck had I been doing?

“Jesus Nikki, we’ve been trying to reach you for a week.” A week? I had lost hours, maybe a day here and there but a whole week. Jesus Christ. “Are you okay man? Why don’t you come out tonight with us?” Tommy was begging me and I sighed.

I was embarrassed. I didn’t want everyone to see me when I had been on a bender. I hadn’t seen what I looked like yet but I was sure that it was like hell.

“I don’t know, T-Bone. I think I have the flu or something. I just don’t feel great.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

Something fluttered beside me and there she was. A white dress on her thin frame. How had she dried off and changed so quickly? Was I loosing more time? Eyes shining as she held out a silver platter of white powder. She loved to party and must have known that my band would want to see me out. At least if I was doing coke with them they didn’t have to worry about finding me dead.

“Where are you going to be?” I relented, watching her twirl. The energy coming off her was exhilarating and I wanted to join her in the ever present state of delight.

My nose was down against the lines, snorting messily, my brain burning, eyes widening as I sniffed a few times to get the whole lot out of my nose. Wiping and then turning to her.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and ready to go out on the town.” She was leading me to the bathroom. My blood rushing everywhere as I was alive and awake and fucking ready to party.

I need you to come here and save me

I'm your little scarlet, starlet, singin' in the garden

Kiss me on my open mouth

Ready for you

Why had I agreed to go to a club?

In the booth we had a mess of drugs, pills and coke scattered on the table like appetizers. Bottles of booze and half empty beer bottles added to the maze of debauchery.

How long have I been here?

I couldn’t remember driving or even getting to the club. All I could remember was hands all over me in the shower, washing the filth off myself. The gentle voice reminded me to wear long sleeves to hide my track marks.

My eyes searched for her. In the sea of women I was sure she would stand out. But all the flashing lights and the noise was confusing me.

The room was spinning, the conversation around me overwhelming me and I could feel Tommy’s hand on my back. My head rolled back, the club's lightning needed to be updated.

A hand was smacking my face and I saw Tommy, wide eyed, looking at me before I turned to the table, throwing up the only thing I had in my body. Brown liquid shot out, mixed with the acid in the stomach. It didn’t stop for what felt like a full minute.

When I finished, puke leaking down in steady droplets to the floor I grabbed a beer tang I had missed and chugged the foamy substance down. I tried not to make eye contact with the people giving us disgusting sneers.

“Oh baby, why don’t you let me take you home? Let me take care of you.” Her hands wrapped around me and I turned, nodding. Confused looks from everyone as I climbed out, reaching for her to take me back into the safety of her arms.

Light of his life, fire of his loins

Keep me forever, tell me you own me

Light of your life, fire of your loins

Her fingers were in my hair as I laid on her lap. The fire from my lighter hitting my pipe as I inhaled and exhaled the sweet delight.

Freebasing in my closet. But at least I wasn’t alone. I had her with me and that changed my usual mood of wanting to slit my wrists or press the gun against my head and pulling the trigger. Painting the inside of my closet with bits of skull fragments and blood-

“Come back to me.” Her voice was lulling me out of the dark place, pressing against my temples and using the magic of her voice to help me. She was the only one that was always there for me. Always making me feel better and dragging me from the pain of my life. Holding me in her arms, compassion and understanding.

She never judged me.

“Have we been here long?” She knew I liked to keep my responsibilities. I wanted to keep my appearance as the rockstar. I couldn’t let anyone know how bad that it had gotten. How I couldn’t stop. How doing drugs was the best part of my life. My one true love.

Except her. She was the one thing I loved more than drugs.

“You have band practice in a few hours.” She reminded me. Her voice was steady and calm, fingers running through my hair and keeping me calm as I took another hit.

I just needed a little more time before I could see anyone. Just a little more time in the closet with her holding me before going out into the world.

“Nikki, don’t let them tell you to give me up. I love you Nikki. Aren’t I the only one who has always been there for you? No one else cares for you like I do. They see you as a rockstar or as a junkie. But I see you. I see you.” Her words promised and I nodded my head, agreeing with her words. She was still so calm, even with the edge to her voice. The words stuck with me.

She saw me and I saw her too.

I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving

I'm your little harlot, starlet, Queen of Coney Island

Raisin' hell all over town

Sorry 'bout it

I didn’t want to go to band practice. I didn’t want them to see my shaking hands or ask my stupid fucking questions that didn’t matter.

At least she had agreed to go with me. Her brown hair wrapped in one of those silky driving scarfs like the 1960s, big sunglasses to hide the hangover in her eyes that she was surely feeling after we had partied. Her hand was on his lap, keeping him steady as he drove to the practice space.

Walking inside, I hide my eyes behind big sunglasses, I could feel the sweat glistening like a second skin on my body. Anxiety crippling me as I licked my lips wanting to get back to my house.

My eyes followed her, watching her move around the instruments shooting me a smile as she ran her hands down my bass. I couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Yo, Nikki, are you okay?” Tommy’s voice made me turn away from her nodding as I sat down hard on the couch. I had never brought a girl to practice before so I was sure they were surprised to see her. To see me so happy with someone.

“Come here.” I held my arms open, watching her smile as she bounced towards me twisting around the guys as they watched me. The brunette plopped down on my lap and I held her close looking out at them.

“What are you playing at?” Vince asked, the confusion was written across his face and I felt angry. Vince had been parading chicks through band practice for years. And now he was acting like this? Fucking asshole.

“Cmon, show her some respect, dicks.” She was shifting in my arms holding onto me and purring sweet words in my ears, my eyes closing and only coming awake when Vince kicked my shin.

“Show who respect?” My eyes went up to look at her but she was glaring at them. Her eyes were on fire as if she was protecting me from the band.

“Nikki, we should go. Let’s go home and I’ll take care of you. You don’t need this. I don’t need this. This was a bad idea, Nikki. A very bad idea.” She was getting up tugging at me to leave.

“My girl.” I was standing gesturing at her beside me, watching the way her dark eyes were slits now. Anger so clear as she tried to wrap herself around me and get me away from them.

They sat there, no one saying a word as they looked at each other and than a me. I turned to look at her, panic was there as she stepped forward touching my face, my eyes closing at the sweet caresses from her fingers. My skin feeling alive like bristling fire under her touch

“It’s me and you Nikki. Don’t forget how I love you. I love you always. No judgement. No-“

“Nikki, no ones there.” Tommy’s voice came out soft and I turned to look from her to him, feeling the slender hand slip out of mine. I went to tell her to wait but she was gone.

Whirling around I saw it was just the band in the space, no mystery brunette anywhere in sight. I collapsed on the couch gripping my hair as my teeth gnashed together.

This was the furthest it had come. The lowest point of my drug addiction. In my loneliness I had created a woman out of heroin. Someone to make me feel less alone when I shot up.

I created love through a needle and that was when I knew I needed to stop if I ever wanted to love anything again.

I'm not afraid to say that I'd die without him

Who else is gonna put up with me this way?

I need you, I breathe you, I'll never leave you!

[slytherinwh0re]

Silent treatment

Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT (this is filthy lol), swearing, a lil fluff at the end (18+ minors dni)

Summary: Where you’re angry with Draco so you give him the silent treatment. 

Masterlist

A/N: thank you so much for 500 followers

You’re bored, the most bored you’d ever been perhaps. You’ve been sitting in the library with Draco for hours, waiting for him to finish up his essay. Finally you got so bored you started mindlessly chatting with him even though he’d barely respond.

“So what color do you think I should get?” You ask your boyfriend while picking at your chipped nail polish.

“I think that if you’d just shut up I’d already be done with this potions essay.���

Ouch. He didn’t even look up from the parchment paper.

“Sorry for inconveniencing with you with my presence, I won’t be bothering you anymore.” You say as you gather your stuff and storm out the library, your feelings hurt. How dare he speak to you like that.

Most the time he’s a sweetheart with you but he is Draco Malfoy and he can still be a downright asshole. So if he wants you to shut up, that’s exactly what he’ll get. You know that giving him the silent treatment is a bit childish but you really are hurt by his mean words, a little revenge will surely make you feel better.

The next morning when you walk into the great hall for breakfast Draco’s already waiting for you at the entrance. He smiles at you, waiting for his kiss but you just look at him and walk right past, not saying a word. You find a seat by Pansy and Blaise, Draco having followed you takes the seat next to yours.

“Is everything alright darling?” He whispers in your ear. You act as if you hadn’t heard a thing, continuing the conversation with your two friends. The rest of breakfast was spent the same way, you blatantly ignoring him as he tried to get your attention.

You didn’t even glance at him before grabbing your bag and heading to your first lesson. The fact that he doesn’t know why you’re upset makes you even angrier. You had almost every class with Draco but were determined to keep your silence.

Easier said than done. The boy is infuriatingly persistent. The first half of the day he spent following you around begging you to tell him why you wouldn’t speak to him, even apologizing for the unknown reason of your silence. Once he realized you weren’t going to tell him he switched tactics, deciding that the best way to get you to talk to him was by annoying the living shit out of you. It almost worked. He kept tugging on your hair or pinching your side, trying his hardest to get any kind of sound out of you. He even tried taking your books from you but he gave them back as quickly as he took them once you kicked him in the shin.

“Come on (y/n), I’d rather you scream at me, this is bloody ridiculous.” You’re boyfriend was beyond frustrated at this point, you made it through all your classes without uttering a single word to him. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss joking around with him but you’d be damned if you let him get away with speaking to you the way he had. So you just continue to stare at him with a tiny smirk on your face, loving the way Draco was turning red with anger. He’s sexy when he’s angry.

The boy wasn’t used to being ignored and he sure as hell did not like it. The frustration from the lack of attention clear on his face. You knew you were being a bit dramatic for dragging it out this long but you are dating Draco, the king of being over dramatic, you had to get on his level for it to really get under his skin.

Next thing you know he’s carrying you over his shoulder straight to his room, his hand resting on your ass. Once inside he had you pressed on the door with his face an inch away from yours, his arms on either side of your head had you trapped. You hadn’t been this close to him all day, you could smell the familiar aroma of his cologne and mint toothpaste.

“If you aren’t going to speak on your own terms I’m just gonna have to make you my darling.” One of his hands grabbed the end of your hair, yanking your head back, giving himself full access to your neck. His lips feel like velvet on your skin, you have to bite your lip to keep any noises from slipping out.

Draco continues the assault on your neck, the hand he had in your hair makes it’s way under the sweater you’re wearing, long pale fingers tracing the smooth skin of your stomach. Everywhere he touches he leaves a trail of goosebumps. His fingers find their way under your thin bralette, thumb brushing against each nipple for only a second before he’s removing his hand. Your will to stay quite disappearing more and more by the second.

He pulls away from your neck, resting his forehead against yours, pulling your body flush against his so your back is no longer on the door. His grey eyes burn into you and without warning his hand smacks your ass, hard. Draco lifts the skirt and starts massaging your supple skin, you move your head so it rests in the crook of his neck, the moans threaten to escape your lips but you grasp onto every fiber of self control you have.

“You held on longer than I though you would (y/n),” He lips are right by your ear “but your body will always betray you my darling, you can’t deny me.” Hes right and you know it.

“I’ve barley even touched you and you’re already soaking straight trough your panties.” You can feel the smirk on his face, his fingers running over your clothed pussy. You bring your hands up to his shoulders so you can steady yourself as he moves your underwear to the side, his long finger stroking your slick folds.

“Draco!” It comes out a little raspy from the lack of using your voice but you just can’t hold it in anymore, the boy is driving you crazy. As soon as his name leaves your mouth he has his other hand around your throat, pushing your head against the door.

“There’s that pretty voice I’ve been wanting to hear all day.” His fingers that were now slick with arousal push into you and your eyes screw shut out of pleasure. The moans that leave your mouth couldn’t be stopped.

The hand around your throat tightens and his finger move in and out of you quickly while his thumb brushes against your clit. The knot in your stomach starts to grow and you know you aren’t gonna last much longer.

“I’m gonna cum Draco!” You barely get it out before you feel his fingers curl into that spot that makes you scream.

“Look at me.” You open your eyes to look at the blonde. “When you cum I want you to scream my name.” He smirks, loving the way you’re falling apart from just his fingers.

One more swipe of his thumb on your clit and you’re doing exactly as you’re told. His name slipping from your mouth as your orgasm takes over your body.

Once you’ve calmed down you watch as he slips his fingers in his mouth, licking them clean. Draco then unbuckles his pants letting them fall to the floor along with his boxers. His hand strokes his dick while he looks at you, his eyes dark with lust.

“Take off your panties and turn around.” You don’t need to be told twice. As soon as you turn around he pushes your face against the door and flips your skirt over your ass, landing a hard smack.

“You wanna act like a fucking brat all day, you’re gonna get treated like one. Beg.” Another smack, this one makes you moan embarrassingly loud.

“Draco please! I need you!” The sting turns you on even more.

“What do you need (y/n).” His hand continuesly landing on your ass.

“I need you to fuck me, please Draco. Please fuck me baby!” You feel his tip at your entrance and then he’s slamming into you. His hands hold your hips to keep you still as he fucks you into the door.

The self control you once had is now thrown out the window as Draco’s name leaves your mouth repeatedly. He slides almost all the way out before pushing back into you.

Just as you find yourself teetering over the edge yet again he slides out of you, a whine of frustration slipping out. He turns you around and in one swift motion yanks both your sweater and bra over your head, your skirt following right behind, his shirt also discarded on the floor, leaving both of you naked in front of each other.

“Get on the bed.” The demanding tone of his voice makes you rub your thighs together before you make your way over to his bed, laying right in the center. Draco climbs on top of you, bringing both your legs to rest on his shoulders before he’s pushing himself back in, the new angle making him feel impossibly deeper than before.

He keeps a steady pace, lowering his head to kiss you for the first time today. Your lips meeting in a desperate kiss, your hands in his hair make him groan into you. You move your hands down his back, loving the way his muscles feel under your fingers. He pulls back to look at you, that smirk you love so much back on his face.

“You looks so sexy when you’re angry, I’ve wanted to fuck the words out of you all day darling.” Immediately his lips are back on yours, the anger you both felt today being poured into the heated kiss.

“Draco!” You moan as you pull away, the familiar knot in your stomach returning.

“Not yet (y/n).” His hips keep up the torturous pace and you don’t know how much longer you can hold it, you feel his him start to falter and you know he’s close as well.

“Now love. Cum for me.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, your back arches off the bed and you’re seeing stars, screaming his name yet again. You feel his dick twich as you clamp around him, his low moans make your head feel dizzy.

Once you’re both cleaned up Draco pulls you back to the bed, laying down so you’re facing each other, his hand pushing back a piece of stray hair.

“Tell me why you’re mad at me darling.” He speaks so softly you barely hear him.

“You told me to shut up yesterday in the library when I asked you what color I should paint my nails, it hurt my feelings.” A look of realization washes over Draco’s face, he brings one of your hands up to his lips leaving a kiss on the back of it while intertwining them.

“I’m sorry my love, forgive me? Today made me realize my day is terribly boring if I don’t have you to talk to.”

“It’s okay Draco, I forgive you, but don’t do it again cause now I know the silent treatment works.” You tease him, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He brings your hand up again inspecting your fingers.

“Paint them green.”

“Green it is.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

An Offer

Warnings: coercion, threats, slightly blackmail-ish, intimidation, entrapment, implied noncon

This is dark!(lumberjack/nomad) Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Steve makes you an offer you can’t refuse.

Based on this drabble request:

Nomad Steve Rogers + “You'll never find anyone better than me.” + Lumberjack AU + Smashed and broken dreams of a good career forces reader back home. With a degree in her hand but no real chance of finding a good job reader has to accept any job she finds and Steve isn’t making it easy cause he wants her so he sabotages any job opportunity to make her depended on him. This really hits home 😭. Sorry 😭.

When you sat in your college lectures, you never expected to end up there. Never expected to be carrying armfuls of wood to a large stack, splinters catching in your gloves as each piece clacked between the noise of the logs being split. You didn’t expect to be working for pennies, busting your ass for hours, just to pay for the room above the liquor store in your hometown.

You didn’t expect any of it. It was a surreal nightmare. It was as if that purgatory could never let you go. The small town’s always claimed what was theirs. Blood grown of that soil could not venture far before the roots dragged them back, a constricting coil around the throat.

Another log split, almost exploding as the two halves fell on either side of the stump. Steve took one and chopped it again, then the other. Perfect quarters for you to pile in your arms and add to the mounting stack. Your sweat soaked the flannel coat, the same kind your father wore when you were a child, the same that everyone in town seemed to have somewhere in their closets.

Steve rested the head of the axe on the stump and leaned on it as he watched you.

“Think that’ll do,” he said as you heard him scratch his beard, “supposed to be a mild winter.”

“Mild? Around here? You know that just means the snow stops at the knee, right?”

You carried the last of the wood to the pile and laid it out in the niches perfectly. It was like a Tetris game, every piece had its place. You clapped off your gloves and looked back at Steve as he shook out his jacket and pulled it back on. Even as his work left him sweaty, you didn’t know how he could stand to take it off and bear the bitter winds in only a tee.

“My knees are higher than yours,” he said, “think I’ll be fine.”

“Uh huh,” you put your hands on your hips and looked out at the trees, the sun setting behind them in an amber haze.

“Hey,” he interrupted your sightseeing, “how about you stay for dinner? I finally tried that chili recipe…”

“You? Cooking?” you shook your head, “so that’s why I’m out here lugging wood.”

“Is that yes?”

“Do you have pepto?” you joked, “sure, guess I could. Save me the trouble of opening a can at home.”

You followed him inside as he held the door for you. You shoved your gloves in your flannel pocket and hung it as you wiggled out of your boots. Usually you tidied and did the household chores as Steve worked outside. It wasn’t much of a job but there was nothing to be had in the lifeless town. Still, even with the work you found in the city, you couldn’t afford even a closet to live in.

The house was nice, big. The country land was cheap and as Steve told it, he built the entire thing himself. It was a wooden castle with better amenities than most of the antique houses in town. He bragged about how he chose every countertop and cut down every leg of every chair and sanded and polished the thick table over a willowy fall.

But you wondered how he ended up there. He wasn’t from the town and his accent was not of the nearby metropolis. He must be from far away. You could see it was an escape from the life he didn’t talk about.

You sat at the table as he clinked around in the kitchen. He came out with two red bowls and set one before you as he sat at the corner near you. He handed you a spoon with a wooden handle and you twirled it as you watched the chili steam.

“Did you make these too?” you asked.

“Ha,” he said dryly and stirred his bowl.

“Well…” you shrugged and looked around.

He smiled at you and leaned his head back until his neck cracked. He let his spoon rest and rubbed his jaw. It twitched and he looked out the big bay windows of the dining room, the ridged bark and overgrown grass staring back.

“I…” he shifted and leaned on the arm of the chair, “I slipped your pay in your jacket.”

“Oh, thanks,” you were embarrassed to talk about money. He knew how little you made even if he did pay you generously for the work you did.

“But… I did want to talk about it, er, about…” he sighed and rested his chin in his hand as he traced his lower lip in thought. He sat up and cleared his throat, “we get along, don’t we?”

“Sure,” you blew on a spoonful and tasted the chili. It was spicy but not bad.

“I know how hard it’s been, Maggie, Lester, Jeff… tough break.”

You swallowed and sat back. You frowned. “How did you…” your resume had been turned down by almost every business owner and manager in town.

“It’s a small place, like that box you’re living in.”

“Steve--”

“I’m not saying it to embarrass you but… because I… want to…” he gripped his spoon, thought about having a bite, then let it go again, “I want to make you an offer.”

“You pay me more than you should for doing your chores,” you left your spoon in the bowl and ran your nails up and down your jeans, picking at the little metal snap by the pocket.

“That’s not--” he squared his shoulders and all humour left his face. He bit down and the vein in his head surged, “you could live here. The place is more than big enough… lonely.”

“I can’t--”

“Please, just listen,” he raised his palms, “I’m lonely and you’re in a bind. We could help each other.”

You squinted and shook your head. He took a breath and leaned forward. He reached under the table and touched your knee. He slid his hand up your thigh until it met yours and you stopped him.

“What--”

“You don’t even have to keep on cleaning or any of that,” he said quietly, “just be mine. You’ll be comfortable here. All you have to do is… be here… with me.”

“Steve,” you held onto his thick fingers, “maybe you don’t mean it that way but I’m not… not a prostitute.”

“It wouldn’t be that,” his throat constricted, “it would be convenient; practical.”

“I should go,” you shoved his hand off of you and stood, “you did a good job with the chili.”

The chair scraped behind you as you stepped out from between it and the table. Steve was fast and caught your shoulder before you could evade him.

“Go where? Do what exactly?” his voice was stern and stolid, “huh? No one in town’s gonna hire you, we both know that. And you can’t make it in the city.”

“That’s mean, Steve, I want to go,” you pouted, “let me go.”

“Why can’t you see I’m helping you?”

“You have helped me but what you’re… offering is insulting, don’t you understand?”

“It’s generous is what I’d say,” he grabbed your other arm and pulled you close as he snarled down at you, “I can give you everything you need and want, all you have to do is give me…” his eyes crawled down your body, “a little sweetness.”

“Steve--”

“You’re proud, I get it, you don’t want to admit you have no choice but what happens when Fletcher needs that room for storage or he rents it out to a higher bidder? Where do you go then? Huh, you keep handing out that resume and what has that degree got you but sorrys and no thank yous?”

“Get off--” you pushed on his chest as he squeezed your arms painfully.

“Let me tell you I will be the only yes you ever get,” he growled, “I made sure of it.”

“Wha-- I--”

“I’m not driving you back to town,” he released you, “so if you really wanna go, if your pride is worth all that, you can walk and see if you beat the wolves. Or you can stay and earn that extra bill I put in your pocket.”

“Steve, what the hell?”

“Your call,” his fingers stretched around the waist of his jeans as he flexed his chest, “reception’s shit so good luck getting a ride.”

“You can’t--”

“Let me make this easy for you. Walk and see if you make it home, stay and you’re already home.”

You searched his face. You’d never seen this side of him. You blinked and spun on your heel. Fuck him. You’d drive yourself and he could tell the police you stole his truck. You ran to the front door and snatched his keys from the hook. You bent to grab your boots but his hand on the back of your neck stopped you. 

He wrenched you back and tossed you against the wall. The keys tumbled to the floor and he kicked them away, “no cheating,” he said, “you wanna go then?”

Before you could answer the high whine of a coyote cut through the air and the glass slats of the front door dimmed. You faced him and your heart beat wildly.

“Why?”

“You going?” he asked again.

“Steve--”

“Well?”

“You can’t do this,” you pleaded, “keep your money then. Just take me home.”

“No,” he marched towards you and pinned you by your neck against the wall. His hand threatened to stifle your breath as he leaned in, “go or stay?”

You batted away tears with your lashes. You turned your head as far as you could whimpered as the sky continued to darken through the marbled glass, “Steve.”

“Go or stay?” he rasped as his breath tickled your cheek.

You trembled and touched his wrist. He squeezed just a little and you gasped, “and if I get lost? If I die out there?”

His lips curved and he chuckled lightly, “you willing to take that risk?”

You watched him, looking for any crack in his veneer, looking for an ounce of the man who’d been your godsend in that desolate town. He wasn’t there. It had all been an act, a trick. He had you in his snare like any good hunter.

“What choice do I have?” you whispered.

He pressed his forehead to yours and his large nose brushed against the tip of yours, “I’m not that bad,” his other hand crept along your stomach, “you’ll see that,” he played with the ribbed cotton, “you'll never find anyone better than me.”

🪓🪓🪓

Please reblog and leave some feedback if you enjoyed. Thank you 💕

[thebeautyoffanfics]

Hello! Can I get kissing prompt 44 with Hanako?

(I figured this would suit him well since he has a thing for fingers XD)

hanako x gn!reader

a/n: you,,,, are so smart,,, this is precious,,,,,

warnings:  I mentioned the reader wearing nail polish in this, which I know some attribute to being feminine but?? Nail polish is for any gender!! However, if wearing nail polish is something you’re uncomfortable with bc of the way its gendered, then you may not want to read this <33 however!!! Other than than: none <3

word count: 737

You sighed, wiping the floors of the school bathroom with a bored expression. “Show some excitement, (Y/N)!” Hanako exclaimed, clapping his hands together as he floated above you.

“Easy for you to say- I still think that if Nene and Kou can’t make it, I shouldn’t still have to. I just painted my nails, Hanako!! Isn’t that reason enough?”

“Did you, now?”

“Yeah! So, if you’d be so kind as to-” “Nah-uh. You’re almost done! You’ve got this!”

You sighed once more, continuing to scrub the floor. “Working my poor, fragile hands,” You added quietly. “You’re starting to sound really familiar, (Y/N)... almost like a pink-haired supernatural we know.”

“Hey, the biggest difference between Mitsuba and I is that Mitsuba isn’t stuck cleaning the girl’s bathroom.”

Hanako shrugged, floating aimlessly as you continued to wipe down the bathroom floors. As the sun began to set, Hanako ‘encouraging’ you as the time passed, you finally placed your hands on your hips proudly. “Finished!!”

“Are you now? See, told you it wasn’t hard!” Hanako shouted, clapping once again as you tossed the disposable gloves into the trash and began to scrub your hands. “Make sure to wash those poor, worked, fragile hands of yours, alright?” He teased, causing you to glare at him. 

Once you dried off your hands, you held them up to Hanako’s face, pouting dramatically. “Whether or not I was being dramatic, they are kinda red from scrubbing! And the nail polish is starting to wear down a bit…”

Hanako took your hands, seeming to examine the nail polish as he messed with your fingers a bit. 

“What’re you-”

“You do work hard, (Y/N). I can see it a bit in your hands, I think. Your hands are a bit dry from all the cleaning and washing though. Put on moisturizer, why don’t ya?”

“I put on moisturizer plenty! It’s not my fault a bathroom ghost makes me clean so often.”

Hanako shrugged, not releasing your hands. It grew quiet for a moment, as you lost your will to argue, instead settling for watching the boy as he seemed to grow hesitant- flustered even? Then, after another moment, he lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to your index finger. 

“What the-” You cut yourself off, feeling your face grow warm as butterflies swarmed in your stomach. You watched, confusion and embarrassment most likely written all over your face, as he continued through the rest of your fingers. A careful kiss was placed to your middle finger, ring finger, pinkie, thumb, and then over to the next hand. He went in the same order, and once he finished he gave your hands a light squeeze. Moving your hands from his mouth, but still holding them, now a bit lighter, as if he wanted you to know you could pull away if you wanted to. You had no words as you processed the sudden, kind action, but you found yourself desperately searching for something to say at the slight tremble in Hanako’s hands. 

“What was that for?” You asked, trying to regain eye contact with Hanako. To your slight surprise, he made eye contact as well, an uncharacteristically soft look on his face.

Quickly, the moment was ruined, as he grinned a signature, cheeky Hanako-grin. “A reward, for working oh-so-hard, you poor thing!”

“Aghh, shut up, toilet master. Whatever, my work here is done,” You sighed, grabbing your things and turning to leave the bathroom. “See you tomorrow, Hanako! Have a nice night!”

Hanako watched as you left the bathroom, waving frantically until you were out of sight, and not moving until he was sure you were out of earshot. Only then, did he bring his hands to his face, letting the embarrassment run rampid. “Aaahhh, that was dumb, wasn’t it…? Great, (Y/N) probably thinks I’m… well- I’m sure they think I’ve done weirder. I still… kissed them…”

And, little did Hanako know, that your mind was also being flooded with thoughts- “He? Kissed my fingers? Why did he kiss my fingers? Was he mocking me? Was it sarcastic? His hands were shaking though... was he nervous?”

You sighed once again, clasping your hands together and looking down at the spots where he kissed your fingers. The fuzzy, butterfly feeling returned to your stomach, as you felt the blush return to your face. “Hanako, honestly… you really do confuse me.”

[jordanstrophe]

Be a Good Guest, 11

Masterlist

Woah! Story progression? Who am I and what have you done with me

CW: Held captive, parental possessive intimate creepy whumper, angry whumper, angst. Lots of it. Brief mention of disownment and you finally get to know who’s been at the end of the phone this entire time.

Gabriel worked diligently to scrub the piano with a stained rag soaked in wood polish. The TV was running in the background, Walter usually played some nature documentary or fun show, almost never touching the news. 

But Walter was cleaning his own room today, the door shut tight enough Gabriel felt it was okay to run the news if it was quiet enough. He used to hate the news, but now, it gave him a sense of reality, reminding him there was still a world going on outside the lonely dark cabin. 

“- And after one month of searching, police are starting to lose hope on the search for the missing man, Gabriel Allen, who disappeared on the 14th.”

Frozen dread washed through Gabriel’s veins as he froze, his heart jittering at the instant acceleration from adrenaline. He turned around to face the TV just in time to watch it flash into darkness with a crackle. 

As if he couldn’t get an even sicker feeling in his gut, a dark presence loomed behind him as he slowly turned his head.

Walter stood with his finger turning white while harshly stabbing the power button on the remote. His expression red with disgust, his eye twitched as they darted and locked onto Gabriel’s.

“Don’t ever play that again in my house. Do you understand?” His hissed, his voice low with solemn. 

“Y-... Yes sir.” Gabriel muttered, keeping his head bowed low with his eyes to the floor.

“Look at me, Gabriel!” His voice was raised only by a pitch, but it felt like he was being shouted at. Gabriel’s posture sank lower, slowly raising his eyes to meet his.

“Look me in the eyes when I’m speaking to you, son. Nothing good comes from those sources! I expect you to stay on the right channels from now on, or I’ll take it all away indefinitely. Got it?” He growled coldly.

“Yes sir. I understand.” Gabriel's voice shook as Walter let his eyes burn into his for longer then he needed to.

Walter tossed the remote away as it loudly banged against the table, causing Gabriel to flinch as if he had been struck. He quickly turned his attention back to the piano as he violently scrubbed it with his trembling hands.

Maybe... Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe there was another Gabriel Allen kidnapped on the very same day and... And..

Why was he even lying to himself? Of course it was him! Someone was looking for him! But... They were losing hope... 

As if he himself didn’t already lose all hope long ago, knowing others had to was the last nail in his coffin. The final shot with the dart at freedom

His last chance.

He quickly blinked away his tears as he wiped his face with his sleeve. If he was caught crying now, it would only add fuel to Walter’s anger. 

The phone blasted out an obnoxious ring rattling against the wall.

“Ughh! What now?!” Walter shouted in the distance as he angrily ripped the phone off the wall.

“Who is this!? What do you want?”

“Malady! I-...I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s nothing! It’s going fine, just a bothersome day is all.”

“You want to what now? Really? I mean... Of course! I would love to-” 

His voice trailed off as he quickly made his way into the other room out of earshot. It was frustrating to listen to his one sided conversation but... His tone. His tone was the same he used on the first call. It was soothing and sweet, calming and charming. 

Malady... Who was Malady? 

-

“Son!” Walter cheered, his mood had made a complete 180 as he frolicked into the living room.

“Oh! You’re never going to guess what’s happening! She’s coming! She’s finally coming!” He roughly grabbed Gabriel’s shoulders as he cringed from being shaken, but he was so relieved his mood had improved.

“Who? Who’s coming?” Gabriel asked.

“My sister, Malady! Oh she’s just amazing. You’re going to love her! She’s going to love you!” He cheered, dancing off to get the “good silverware”. The nice ones that get tucked away for years until you get that one special guest you want to impress.

“You.... You have a sister?” Asked Gabriel. He had never mentioned her before. Is she... Is she like him?

Insane?

Abusive?

Controlling?

Manipulative?

Shivers ran down his spine as he gulped, he couldn't handle two of them... Walter stopped as he slowly set down the shiny decorative plates. “I um... Well she’s not technica-... I mean she is and she isn-.. Bah! It’s complicated, she’s just my baby sister! I can’t wait for her to meet you.” He smiled. 

She wasn’t going to be there for another week, but Walter was already preparing the house, cleaning, polishing, reorganizing, re-reorganizing, then cleaning again... 

Walter wanted to make sure Gabriel looked perfect as well, bushing his hair every single morning and night, showing up with a warm soapy cloth to clean his face at random times...

-

Malady slowly hung up the phone, her face twisted with concern.

“Who was that?” David asked.

“That was Walter.” She cleared her throat, tightening the brace on her right arm.

“Your brother?!”

“My disowned brother... Yes.” She snapped as David raised his hands in submission.

“Well... How’s he doing?”

“He um... He has a son now.” She huffed with contempt.

“Oh...” David’s voice trailed off. “Isn’t that a problem? Didn’t he get arrested years ago for-”  “-I know! David, I know. But It’s been ten years, surly he’s fixed himself up by now. But just incase..” She murmured, brushing her hair back into a bun.

“I’m going to make sure he has.”

@alien-octopus @yesthisiswhump  @lave-whump @whumpasaurus101 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hamiltonwhumpdump @just-another-whumper @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @approach-me-and-ill-cry  @whump-it @kixngiggles @as-a-matter-of-whump  @five-fictions-5-9 @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @thelazywitchphotographer  @sophierose002 @happy-whumper @cowboy-anon

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ  Thank you for reading!

[dourpeep]

Got a neat idea while making tea this morning and deciding what cup to use! I have a small collection of mugs going on hahaha. But this also serves as a bit of practice for very short characterizations of other characters!

A Cup-le of Memories

Summary: The cups you have and the many fond memories that come with them.

Contains: Kazuha x Xiao x Reader, various other characters, fluff, modern au, memories

The three of you, in your little (Kazuha argues that it's "cozy") shared apartment's kitchen, have quite the collection of cookware. But your favorite has the be the assortment of mismatched mugs tucked away in the cabinet to the right of the sink.

A collective effort made by you, Kazuha, and Xiao whenever you go out, really. Always finding ones that are best fitting, pretty, or...questionable. But even so, each holds a dear place in your heart with the memories they hold and the ones you're sure they'll bring. You reach for a cup, thinking of your two loves and your group of very dear friends.

Who should you pick today?

Everyone—everyone who visits is assigned a cup.

The first you hover over is a rounded pale peach mug shaped like a cat-blob. Venti found it hilarious, after the initial look of shock and offense.

"My first time visiting your apartment and this is how you thank me?? Some friends you are-"

As soon as Kazuha offered to switch it out, the cup was swiftly pressed against his chest, protective. "No, no it's mine now."

It’s hard to not see the knowing smile that spreads over his features every time he visits for a drink.

Hm…maybe not.

Venti was going to visit later anyway to get some input from Kazuha about lyrics and return Xiao's guitar.

It'd be best to keep it up here and ready to be used for when he arrives.

Your hand pulls back, only for a novelty-shape to catch your eyes. You hold back a snort.

Oh, definitely one of the cups fitting under "questionable" and undoubtedly the only one that wasn't chose by the three of you.

"Hello again!"

The chipper voice of a certain ginger-haired man echoes down the hall, hair tousled and decorated with a pair of sunglasses. Still in beachwear, Childe (a long-time nickname according to him) strolls down the hallway accompanied by two of his work-but-not-work friends. They stay behind waiting for him to finish up.

"I just had something I wanted to drop off, Xiangsheng always mentions your mugs so I figured this would be perfect!"

In his hand, a mug in the shape of a lady's torso wearing a polka-dot bikini.

The cup ended up becoming Childe's on the rare times that he visits.

But speaking of Xiangsheng-

His is pretty fitting.

Xiao reaches into the cupboard, taking a short time to pick out the one the three of you found just earlier that week. It's simple, elegant--a brown ceramic mug with a clean glaze to provide a shiny finish.

"Thank you, truly."

The man holds the cup now filled with a fragrant tea, hot and steaming.

True to the tradition, Zhongli refuses to use any but the cup designated as 'his'. Remembering this makes you feel a little guilty for thinking of using it…after all, Zhongli visits often as well so it’s weird to use the cup right?

Onto the next cup, then!

Ah, the Hard Rock cup. Really, it originally was from the Hard Rock Cafe…but the “cafe” part has since been rubbed off very diligently. The apartment smelled like acetone for days.

No one really used the mug so it tended to sit and gather dust sadly in the back of the cabinet. Nothing really wrong with it, it just ended up not fitting anyone so far. Though you’d try to use it now and then in the mornings, you did favor some of the other cups…

“Hey, lemme see that one there.”

You look at Xinyan, brow knitted in confusion. “But you have a cup?”

“This’n is mine now! I have an idea-“

You laugh, remembering the way that she sat, cross legged on the kitchen floor and vigorously rubbing at the cup until her own nail polish was rubbed off from the chemical and a sizeable pile of sad, mushed cotton balls lay before her.

Not to mention her victorious cry of 'It's done!'

Putting the cup back, you sigh. Maybe not that one either, then. Standing on the tips of your toes, you stare at one of the two that are in the front of the others. Oh! You remember this—a handmade yunomi. Definitely a little lopsided and maybe not-so-safe to use considering that it wasn’t glazed properly, but…

Kazuha’s in a rush today, it seems, muttering something about an extracurricular he took and that one of his projects was coming out of the kiln today. Excited, he slipped his shoes on and was out the door with a very quick kiss.

It’s not until lunch that he returns, beaming proudly. Setting a plainly colored cup on the counter, he awaits your judgement. The cup itself is cute, with a careful imprint of a maple leaf on the side that’s colored in with a rusty red color.

“I made myself a cup. The professor allowed the class to have a free project for the final, so I thought it’d be something that I can use often.”

He still does use it every day.

The other, placed carefully beside it always draws a chuckle from you and your partners.

Oh. This was the cup- the perfect cup for your somewhat stoic, somewhat grumpy, but very soft partner.

Giddy, you swipe it off the shelf and hurry to the checkout.

He’s less than enthused, which is hilarious when you’re beaming so brightly and Kazuha is so so very close to loosing it. You nudge the cup closer to where your other boyfriend is sitting down at the table.

“Number one…” Xiao’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest. “Grandpa.”

Hehe. Never gets old.

Even with his initial response, Xiao took the cup in stride and takes every opportunity to use it. Tea, coffee, cereal, soup—the possibilities are endless with a mug. You wonder if it’s because you’re the one who picked it.

It’s been a while since you’ve decided to have a drink. At this point, you could just close the cabinet and go without, but you can’t lose your dedication now.

So, you push aside a few of the mugs in search of a specific one—just the one you’ve been looking for, now that you realize it.

Brushing over Venti’s cat cup, Childe’s bikini cup, Zhongli’s deep brown mug, Xinyan’s “hard rock” cup, Kazuha’s diy, and Xiao’s (frankly fantastic) grandpa mug, you smile and relish every moment these hold.

But ultimately, your hand closes around a simple, white mug.

Cheap, yes, and a little plain...but nothing beats the pixelated picture of you, Kazuha, and Xiao wrapped in each other's arms, the mug still just as pristine as when you got it despite so many washes.

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

Dear Heart - CH 12

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​​​ @primusk​​ @itswormtrain​​​ @hesbuckcompton-baby​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 5k (another doozy but omg a lot has to happen okay? they have to talk, Dick has to be a simp, it’s important to the plot)

A/N: Thank you again to @mercurygray​​​​ for being a wonderful beta reader, as always <3

Warning(s): Descriptions of an assault

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 11

Chapter 12 here we go!!

A warm spring began in Germany, welcoming the American invaders with its beautiful scenery and pleasant weather. Melanie wondered how people who lived in such a lovely place could have begun a war that was so terrible. The regiment came to a long stop in a town called Sturzelberg, where there was a hospital, and Melanie finally felt like a regular nurse again. She even got to change out of her OD’s and into her nursing uniform dress. It was wrinkled from the journey in her bag, rolled up at the bottom until she could wear it again. It was somewhat of a homecoming, though it seemed a different girl stepped into it. Not even a girl at all, really. A grown woman. A changed woman. 

Her and Juliet’s billet had a mirror, so she took the opportunity to really look at herself for the first time in weeks. Though she was clean, she looked tired. She didn’t have much color to her face, and she had lost more weight. She frowned at her reflection, hearing her mother loud and clear in her mind. To her surprise, she voiced what she heard. 

“Thin and pale,” she murmured. “That won’t do.”

Juliet looked up from her notebook. “I beg your pardon?” 

Melanie did not reply. She was too busy pinching her cheeks along the bone, giving them a semblance of rosiness. It was an old trick, but a useful one. So was chewing one’s lips to make them red if one didn’t have any rouge, which was her next task.

“Mel, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Juliet demanded, getting to her feet. 

“Making myself somewhat presentable,” Melanie answered. “Now that we’re back in relative comfort, I’ve got no excuse for walking around looking like a rag doll.” 

Juliet scoffed in disbelief. Then she stood in front of Melanie, took her by the shoulders, and looked into her eyes, searching. 

“What are you doing?” Melanie asked. 

“I’m looking for Melanie Davis, I hope she’s still in there,” Juliet returned. 

It occurred to Melanie that Juliet had only known the exhausted, wounded Melanie from weeks at war and no sleep. Already a little jaded from the amount of wounded who passed through. Of course she didn’t recognize the Melanie from before - who lived with constant reminders of femininity and vanity she’d had ingrained in her since childhood. 

She rolled her eyes and dislodged herself from Juliet’s grip. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s me.” 

“You’ve been through hell on Earth,” Juliet pointed out. “Who cares what you look like?”

Melanie hadn’t thought of it that way. And she had certainly not had many experiences of criticism being met with compassion. She didn’t always feel she deserved compassion - she was happy to give it to others but for herself? Perfection only. It was hitting her now what an impossible standard she was holding herself to. 

“Oh, I must sound awfully vain,” Melanie sighed. “I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it if I prefer feeling feminine. I can’t believe how much I took for granted just having lipstick or nail polish.” 

“Obviously, you can enjoy those things, but I cannot stand by and let you say that you ‘won’t do,’” Juliet replied. “You’re a beautiful woman, with or without lipstick.” 

Melanie looked at the floor and fixed her clothes. “That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

She was unused to getting such compliments. Her mother had always fixated on Melanie’s looks, though she had never been insulting. It was always reassurance that she was pretty enough to “catch a husband.” But, as she had pointed out to herself, there was more to the world than all that. The war was still on. She had a job to do. 

“Alright, I’m off to work,” she said. “It feels mighty fine to be saying that again.” 

She forced herself to smile, putting all thoughts of her appearance behind her. She just needed to get back to a hospital and work with patients so she could start feeling like herself again. Juliet wished her luck, and then Melanie was off. 

***

As they made their way deeper into Germany, Dick’s inner conflict deepened, too. Melanie’s condition, her moods and general demeanor, seemed to improve, while Lew seemed to get steadily worse. The day of the jump (which he was still a bit bitter to have missed, despite its outcome), when Dick had to tell his best friend about his demotion, he was disturbed by Nix’s non-reaction, followed by flippant remarks to disguise a frustration he clearly would not voice. Dick sought out the only person he felt he could talk to about his concerns - Melanie. 

He went first to her billet. The day was drawing to a close, so he assumed she would be back by now from the hospital. Juliet opened the door and looked surprised to see him.

“Oh! Hello, Major,” she said. 

“Is Melanie here?” he asked, getting right to the point. 

“No, she hasn’t come back from the hospital yet,” she told him. “Is everything alright? Did you have something...important to tell her?” 

She raised a knowing eyebrow at him and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. At this point, he wasn’t sure who was more invested in his relationship with Melanie - Nix or Juliet. He wondered what might have happened if she had been around to help orchestrate the Paris trip. For now, he let it slide.  

“I just want to talk to her,” he said. “Thanks, though.” 

“Worth a shot,” she said under her breath. “Well, let me know if we need to send out a search party.” 

“Will do,” he said, amused. “See you later.”

She nodded in return and closed the door. Dick headed to the hospital. He looked forward to seeing Melanie - he always did. He just wished his friends would see that, and realize it was enough for now. There was enough understanding between them that they were pretty well aware of what they felt for each other. At least, Dick was sure he understood. But there was still a war, and that wasn’t really the place for romance. 

By the time he arrived at the hospital, he had pushed his frustrations with his friends to the back of his mind. In the first ward, he found Melanie, in a chair beside a patient’s bed, a deck of cards between them on a tray, and laughter on her face. The patient pulled a card from his hand and laid it down, which made Melanie’s jaw drop. 

“Another red three?” she gasped. “I think it’s very clear how this game is going to end.” 

“You’ve still got a chance, Miss Melanie,” he replied through a thick Southern accent. “One good hand and you could turn this whole thing around.” 

“Well, lucky for you, my hand isn’t anything to write home about,” she returned, frowning at it. “Draw your cards, Sergeant.”

He reached for the deck and picked up three cards, adding them to his hand. Dick watched the game play out for a moment - the sergeant discarded, Melanie drew two, then she discarded, and the sergeant drew again. All the while, Melanie talked to the man. He was missing his right leg up to the thigh - and a fleeting image of Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye passed through Dick’s mind. But judging by this soldier’s attitude, no one would have guessed anything was the matter with him. The way he smiled and chuckled at Melanie’s praise, he didn’t seem to notice that he was even in a hospital bed. 

Dick’s heart was warmed by the sight. Melanie really was back to her old self. She was off duty, and yet she sat with a man she didn’t know to bring him some small comfort. A simple card game. A chance for him to feel normal again, even for a few moments. Dick wasn’t sure which he admired more - her selflessness or how happy she looked to be where she was. The grin on her face gave away that she considered it no trouble to play a game with a patient when her rounds were over. She was genuinely glad to do it. Dick hoped Toye and Guarnere had similarly wonderful nurses wherever they were. 

“A canasta already?” she cried as Dick approached. “If you go out on me with all this in my hand, Sergeant, I’ll be finished for sure!”

She discarded and then finally, she looked up. She caught Dick’s eye as he took some tentative steps toward her, hesitant to interrupt. But she beamed at him, so he assumed he was welcome. 

“Good evening, Dick,” she said kindly. 

The sergeant turned and saw Dick, so he offered a quick salute. “Good evening, sir,” 

“Good evening,” Dick returned politely. “Sorry to interrupt.” 

“Not at all,” Melanie assured him. “Dick, this is Sergeant Samson - the finest canasta player in the US Army. Sergeant, this is Major Winters.” The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Then she met Dick’s gaze again. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, and found himself regretting coming at all. She was busy, and he felt foolish for disrupting her moment of joy. “I can come back later, though -” 

“Actually, sir, I’m about ready for some sleep if Miss Melanie will let me off the hook,” Samson said. 

She cast him a playful look. “I see how you operate, Samson. Quit while you’re ahead, that way you don’t lose.”

He laughed, a bit bashful at her teasing, but she collected the cards all the same, and set them aside. 

“We’ll play again tomorrow if you like,” she offered.

“Of course,” he returned. “That is, if you enjoy losing that much!” 

She feigned offense while he chuckled some more. Then she fluffed his pillows and pulled the blankets up to his chest. Dick watched and felt a familiar stir in his heart of affection for her. She was the most beautiful person he had ever had the pleasure of knowing - and that did not just apply to her pretty face. Melanie was a sweet soul, a nurturing heart, and a bright mind. She was a high quality person. And tiny moments like this showed that to him more than anything. 

“Can I get you anything else before I go?” she offered Samson. 

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” 

“Good night, Sergeant,” she said. 

“Good night, ma’am, sir.” 

Dick nodded in acknowledgement before offering Melanie his arm, which she took, and they left the ward together. It struck him that her touch no longer made him so nervous. It thrilled him - even after knowing each other for years - but it was comfortable now. As if the crook of his arm was made for her hand. It was natural. 

“Is everything alright, Dick?” she asked as they stepped outside. “You seem troubled.”

He didn’t consider himself a particularly emotive person, but Melanie never failed to pick up on what he was feeling. Especially when he needed her. 

“It’s Nix,” he said. “His drinking...it’s become such a problem up at regiment that he was demoted today. When I told him that, he didn’t even seem to care.”

Melanie’s brows furrowed and she looked thoughtfully ahead. “I’m sorry to hear that. Lewis is a good man and a fine officer. I would have thought he’d be more invested.” 

“Well, in his defense, he’d just come back from that disaster of a jump,” Dick said. 

“What disaster of a jump?” she wondered. 

He told her what Nix had relayed to him - that the troopers didn’t even make it out of the plane. The CO was killed. Nix and just a handful of others survived out of sheer luck. 

“Oh, how awful,” she said, heartbroken.

 There really could be no moment between them where the war did not rear its ugly head, Dick thought bitterly. No matter what, there was some news of tragedy. Death sank its teeth into even a simple evening stroll. He decided to steer the conversation back to its original subject. 

“Seeing Lew like this just has me worried,” he said. “I feel like he’s close to spiraling, and I don’t have a clue what to do. I thought it was just a bad habit, but now...” he trailed off, unsure what to call his friend’s profound issue. 

“I’m afraid there isn’t much you can do,” Melanie told him. “Nix is...troubled, and he has his coping mechanism. Unless he wants to quit drinking, there’s nothing you - or anybody - can do to stop him from picking that bottle up again.”

Once again, he was being told to do nothing - frustrating and impossible advice. He had hoped for more from her. 

“What you can do,” she went on, and he felt a glimmer of hope again. “Is make yourself available to him. Let him know - subtly, of course - that you’re ready if and when he’ll need you. Eventually, it will come to a head, and he’ll need people in his corner that he can truly rely on.” 

“It still sounds like doing nothing,” he said, defeated. 

“I know you’re a man of action, Dick, but this will take patience,” she returned, understanding. 

He didn’t answer right away, still a bit frustrated. He also took a moment to look at her. The dim twilight was flattering on her skin. A cool breeze made her flyaway hairs stir around her head. She looked a bit like a painting with the Bavarian backdrop behind her. It struck him again how much he loved her. She met his gaze. 

“Dick?” 

He shook his head to clear it, though appreciating her beauty had eased some of his irritation about Nix. 

“Sorry,” he said. “You look nice tonight, that’s all.” 

“Thank you,” she said, blushing lightly. “I’m feeling much better now that we’ve got more food and I’m back in a hospital.” 

He had noticed her improvement over the past few days. Her cheeks were rounding out again, and she didn’t look so tired. Her bruises were gone, too. 

“I feel a bit silly,” she admitted. “I was fussing over how I looked when we first got here because I didn’t have lipstick or nail polish. What a ridiculous thing to worry about.” 

Melanie always looked natural, so he tried to remember the last time he saw her looking nicer than usual. It was Paris. Which was beginning to feel decades in the past instead of just months.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he assured her. “Silly, I’ll give you, but ridiculous is a strong word.” 

“Alright, silly it is then,” she teased back with a smile, and he ached at how much he adored it. 

They reached her billet, stopped outside the door, and faced each other. 

“This takes me back,” she said. “All the way to Aldbourne.” 

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I don’t think I’d recognize those two kids.” 

“Me neither,” she chuckled. “So much has happened. But, I…” 

He looked expectantly at her as she trailed off and gathered her thoughts. Her brow furrowed, which told him she was searching for the right words. 

“I am so grateful we’re still friends,” she said. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I could have made it this far.”

It was his turn to get flustered. For a moment, he stood there silently, a bit lost for words. It was such an honest and wonderful thing to say. How could he return that sentiment?

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m grateful too, Mel,” he said, feeling the understatement like an itch on his skin. “Really.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, smiling. “On that pleasant note, shall we say goodnight? Unless there’s anything else?”

He shook his head. “Thanks for listening. As always.” 

They said goodnight, and she went inside, no doubt to chat to Juliet before climbing into bed and settling in. Dick wanted only for Melanie to be safe and comfortable, especially after everything she’d been through. He hoped that after the war, she could end her days in his arms instead of alone, he could tell her plainly how much she meant to him, and that he could be her true refuge. Until then, his mind went to lipstick and nail polish…

The following day, on his way to HQ, he found some. An abandoned drug store sat on the intersection he crossed, and there were a few enlisted men already scrounging around inside, claiming whatever they could find. He normally wasn’t one for taking souvenirs, but he was more compelled by the idea of doing something nice for Melanie. So he stepped through the kicked in door and looked around. The makeup aisle had already been pretty thoroughly picked over - broken bottles and compacts littered the floor, but one last untouched gold tube on the shelf caught his eye. A red lipstick. He took it. 

He glanced around for nail polish too, but the only color left was a dark purple, which he could not for the life of him imagine Melanie wearing. The lipstick would have to do. 

 He intended on giving it to her that day, but he got caught up in several different briefings, which evidently could not be postponed. So many that he sent Zielinski to the hospital with a message asking Melanie to join him in his office for dinner. They hadn’t had significant time together in much too long, and he missed it. So he was grateful when she accepted and agreed to meet him at eight o’clock. 

Dick got worried when eight-fifteen came and went. He checked his watch for the tenth time in the last sixty seconds and sighed, fearing that Melanie had forgotten him. Or worse, something was terribly wrong at the hospital, and she was enduring further tragedy. Finally, when he was about ready to go looking for her himself, there was a knock on the door. 

“Come in!” he called. 

To his great relief, Melanie walked through the door, closing it softly behind her. She looked a bit sheepish as she came closer. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Dick,” she said. “Sergeant Samson and I were just wrapping up.”

“More canasta?” he asked. 

She nodded. “It’s his favorite game. He used to play it with his sisters back home. He’s got three of them.” 

“Three sisters, wow,” he remarked. “No brothers?”

“One,” she said sadly. “But he was killed on Guadalcanal.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “But I’m impressed with you. You really get to know the men you’re treating.” 

“I certainly try,” she said. “Hospitals can often feel overly clinical and cold. Doctors don’t have much time to spend with patients, and nurses can get overwhelmed. I don’t want the patients to mistake that for not caring.” 

Dick had met very few people who had the emotional capability to invest so much in others. For a fleeting moment, he likened Melanie to a priest or pastor, with a flock of people to look after, but what she did was different. She wasn’t a spiritual guide or advisor. She was a simple comfort. A place to tell someone about your favorite game or your siblings or your life story. A generous ear to listen to you talk about something besides your pain. 

“That’s very sweet of you,” he told her, keeping the true depth of it to himself. 

She took a seat across from him at his desk, and they had dinner together. At first, she asked mostly about him and how he was doing, but he eventually turned it around. He let her talk about the patients she’d met at this hospital, and she shared little tidbits of their lives. She wasn’t burdened by it, either. In each one, she found something of interest, worth remembering and holding onto. He listened, but he knew he’d never be able to recall everything the way she did. But he hoped he helped by doing a little bit of what she did for others, for her.  

When they finished eating, she sat back with a satisfied smile. He loved that look on her face and he couldn’t help but smile a bit himself. To continue that momentum, he went into his desk and pulled out his gift for her. He didn’t have a box or anything this time, so it wasn’t nearly as big as the gift of the dress, but he hoped she’d still appreciate it. 

“I got something for you,” he said. 

She raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

He placed the tube of lipstick on the desk as her mouth fell open. But a sparkle in her eyes told him it was a delighted sort of shock. 

“Where did you get this?” she gasped. She picked it up and examined it, as if not quite believing it was real. 

“There’s a drug store in town that’s...no longer in operation,” he explained. He still didn’t love that he’d technically stolen it, but he wouldn’t let her know. “I think every man in the regiment got something for the women in his life. And you mentioned wanting some.” 

“And you remembered?” she wondered. 

“Sure I did,” he replied with a chuckle. 

“How kind of you,” she said, her grin widening. “I can’t wait to use it! Thank you so much!”

Did anything feel better than making her happy? Dick wasn’t sure. The warmth in his chest told him there was nothing. It didn’t matter that he’d taken it by looting. For that smile, he was prepared to commit highway robbery.  

“You’re welcome,” he returned. 

He watched her gaze at the items in her hand, a pensive, contemplative expression coming over her features. There was something more she wanted to say. Knowing her, she would shake her head, smile again, and mumble “never mind” mostly to herself before moving on. He hoped she wouldn’t, so he remained silent, giving her the space to work through what she was thinking. 

“It seems silly to say this over something so small,” she began, her voice soft, so he had to lean closer in order to hear. “But may I share something with you?” 

“Of course,” he assured her, though the question made him nervous. 

He tried to think of what could make her so serious all of a sudden, but nothing immediately came to mind. A split second of doubt came over him that she was going to confess she had met someone else because she was tired of waiting for him. But that seemed like a rather outlandish conclusion to jump to. He slowed down his thoughts and focused on her. 

“I know you’ve been wondering about what caused me to leave the hospital in Bastogne and come to the front lines,” she began. “And I haven’t been able to tell you. I’m sorry.” 

He was still curious, but he certainly didn’t want her to feel like she had to talk about that just because of a lipstick he didn’t even pay for. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Please,” she cut across him. “Let me get this out before I lose my nerve.” 

“Take your time,” he said gently. 

She nodded and took a deep breath. Tears pricked her eyes as she released it, slow and shaky. He mentally braced himself to hear the worst. 

“Before the hospital was bombed, Terry...made me an offer,” she continued. “For a life together after the war. He told me he had always had feelings for me and basically that he wanted to marry me.” She ran the fingers on her right hand over the ring finger of her left. 

“Naturally, I refused,” she went on. “I wasn’t in love with him.” She paused there, toying with the lipstick tube, as if debating adding something onto that sentence, but decided against it. “I thought my answer was clear, even before the bombing. But the day I was supposed to return to work, he came to my room.”

She stopped again, chewing her bottom lip before swallowing hard. 

“He’d had a bit to drink,” she said. “He wasn’t out of control, but I could smell it when he got close to me. He proposed again. I refused him. He shouted at me that he loved me. He said he couldn’t bear the thought of me with another man. And that’s when he started to throw things.” 

Beads of sweat appeared on her brow and hairline. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, undeterred, though trembling. She rubbed her hand against the fabric of her dress to dry it off.

“I pleaded with him to stop, but he grabbed me by my face,” she said. “Painfully. Then he looked me in the eyes and threatened to...crush my skull against the vanity, to use his words.” 

She looked at him, and suddenly, she halted and met his gaze.

“Am I upsetting you?” she asked. 

If he didn’t know her better, he would have thought she was being sarcastic - trying to remind him just who really had been hurt here, but she wasn’t. She was genuinely concerned about him in a moment like this. Her tone, apologetic. 

Dick’s anger had risen from a simmer to a boil. He’d been trying to maintain composure as she spoke. He did not want her to lose her nerve by seeing him get agitated, but he couldn’t help the set of his jaw. He regretted not fighting Clarke when he’d had the chance because maybe this might not have happened. It’s harder to throw things and grab people with broken fingers, after all. He shook his head and took a deep breath to calm down, intentionally relaxing every muscle in his face. 

“I’m fine, Mel,” he lied. “Please, go on.” 

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but did not protest. 

“I tried to resist,” she continued. “But then he grabbed me by the throat. If he said anything else at that point, I didn’t hear. I was blacking out quickly. And for a moment, I was afraid...I was so afraid I was going to die.” 

She choked on the last word, and she swiped the tear that leaked onto her cheek away quickly. He kept his gaze fixed on her face, watching her lip quiver. He knew it was ridiculous, but overwhelming guilt sank its claws into his heart. He should have been there to defend her. He should have warned Colonel Sink about Terry. He should have done something. Even now, he wished he could protect her from the very memory of it. 

“I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “But somehow I found the strength to get away. I remember striking him, but not much else. That was when Colonel Sink showed up. And I begged him to let me go...well, anywhere that wasn’t the hospital. He suggested the Bois Jacques, and I agreed.” 

He sat with it a moment, impressed at her resilience, and a little relieved that nothing worse had happened - and he had imagined much worse, especially when she said the altercation had taken place in her bedroom. But she got away. She rescued herself. There was something to be said for that. 

“I’m so sorry you went through that, Mel,” he said. “You were very brave.”

“Please don’t flatter me, Dick,” she replied. “Dogs have enough courage to fight back when attacked. I acted on instinct.”

“Even so, you did well,” he insisted. He hesitated asking his next question, unsure how she might take it or if she was receptive to being questioned at all. 

“Why didn’t you report him?” he asked, feeling desperate. “That’s a court martial offense, assaulting a fellow officer.”

“Colonel Sink offered to do the paperwork, but I asked him not to,” she told him. “There’s no point, really. It would be my word against his and that rarely goes well for a woman.” 

Dick carefully disguised his distaste for that answer. He wasn’t frustrated by Melanie, but that she was right. 

“Besides,” she said. “He didn’t really do anything. He just frightened me, that’s all.” 

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” he returned. “He nearly killed you.” 

She shrugged, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands, which were in her lap now, fidgeting with the lipstick tube, which made a soft pop each time she opened or closed it.

“You may think you’re being kind by showing him mercy, Mel,” he said. “But Terry should be at the least reprimanded for what he’s done. I know it’s hard, but you’re brave enough to -”

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. 

“Dick, stop it!” she cried, looking desperately at him. “I’m not brave or strong or kind or anything else! I’m scared, alright?! I didn’t report Terry because I’m terrified that he will find me again! And how much worse would it be if he had nothing to lose?! It isn’t mercy, it’s fear!”

She lowered her eyes to the floor and tried to draw in a breath. It was shallow and shaky, catching on the lump in her throat. He couldn’t stand that he was not holding her. So he got to his feet, crossed to the other side of his desk, stood before her, and held out his hand. She looked at it, then up at his face, before placing her fingers in his palm. He helped her to stand. Then, he gathered her up in his arms. Her forehead found a resting place on his chest, and she nuzzled into him. They fit together like puzzle pieces. 

“I’m sorry, Melanie,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m so sorry.” When she only nodded, he continued. “You’re safe now.” 

“Yes,” she said softly into his chest. “Yes, I know.”

He made a silent promise to himself and her. From here on out, he would be her personal shield. No one deserved what she had endured, but she especially didn’t. This woman, who was all heart and grace and goodness. He would protect her with everything he had.

[naussensei]

Attack on Titan College AU

In which Bertolt and Reiner drag Annie into a party.

Once at the bus stop, Annie flinched at the address on her phone when she received Bertoldt’s text. She had never even gone close to that area. 

Bertold and Reiner would have to make up for this, she’d make sure of that.

For a fancy street, the house indicated in Bertolt’s message wasn’t as big as Annie had imagined. The streets were clean and clear of holes, well-illuminated, but the house wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Even so, Annie hesitated another moment before she knocked on the entrance door. She listened to the beating of some rap music slamming the windows, the loud chanting of a group of men, and a chill ran down her spine. What the hell were her friends doing in a place like that?

With a deep breath, Annie knocked, and the door was wide open in a second; a tall man with narrow eyes and a smug smile standing at the threshold with a drink in his hand.

“Hey,” he sneered, scanning Annie from head to feet with a smirk.

“Hi,” Annie’s voice was dry, her shoulders stiff. “I’m looking for a friend.”

“Well, you’ve found one,” he grinned, leaning with a hand over the threshold. “Wanna come in?”

“Hey, horse face!”

Another voice came from behind him; a shorter, angry-looking guy pushed the tall one aside, deep green eyes glaring at him. “Stop letting random people into my house, Jean!”

“Relax, Jaeger, she’s not a ‘random person’. I know Annie, she was in my political science class with Professor Smith.”

Annie couldn’t recall Jeans’s face, yet nodded regardless.

“Just come in,” the one called Jaeger said with a sigh, and Annie followed him. “I’m Eren, by the way. There’s drinks at the bar, make yourself at home.”

“I’m only here to pick up a friend,” she clarified, and dodged a group of people chugging their drinks in a scandalous way.

“Really?” Eren said casually, his mind was somewhere else. Even from a distance Annie could smell the alcohol on him. “Which friend?”

“Reiner Braun.” She looked around searching for her friends, feeling several eyes on her as they walked across the large room, suddenly aware of how her gym clothes were so out of place with the rest of the girl’s outfits.

Eren paid little attention to Annie, too busy keeping watch on his parents’ house.

“Hey! Sasha! Connie! Get off the table!” Eren yelled, alarmed at the sight of two people climbing onto the furniture. He excused himself and rushed towards her.

Annie was then left in the middle of the room, alone with nothing but an awkward feeling. Reiner and Bertold would pay for this, she told herself, looking for an empty corner to stand at and look for them. What did people even do in these parties? She watched more people drinking, some of them dancing. After rejecting drinks several times, Annie headed to the bathroom. If Reiner was drunk and wasn’t anywhere around, it could only mean one thing: he’d probably been sick.

The bathroom door opened, and Annie’s eyes widened at the sight of a short, blonde girl kissing another taller girl. She stood there frozen with a hand still on the doorknob; the girls recoiled as soon as they saw Annie staring at them.

“What?” Growled the taller one, darker skin flushing under her freckles. “You got a problem?”

“Ymir don’t-” The other girl gasped, holding her arm to stop her.

“I honestly couldn’t care less. You do your thing,” Annie said with a straight face now, and closed the door again. Where the hell were Reiner and Bertolt?

After searching most of the house, Annie decided they must have gone out to buy more drinks or something like that. She decided to wait for a few more minutes, and looked for a quiet place to sit. At the end of the living room, a lonely girl sat quietly on a couch with a plastic cup in her hand.

That was it. That was her spot.

“Hi,” Annie gave the girl a brief and polite smile as she took a seat.

The girl’s gaze was lost somewhere. As though she didn’t hear Annie, the girl rose to her feet and moved towards the table. From there, Annie admired her black dress and high boots, as black as her hair and nail polish. A second later, the girl came back with another plastic cup and offered it to Annie.

“Oh, I don’t drink, but thanks.”

“It’s apple juice,” the girl said. Unlike her tough appearance, the girl’s voice was surprisingly sweet. “I don’t drink either.”

Annie thanked her and took a shy sip from it with relief. It was indeed apple juice.

They both continued to drink in silence, awkward at first, then almost comforting. At least they were alone together.

“I’m looking for a friend,” finally said Annie. “Do you know someone called Reiner or Bertolt?”

The girl looked up at the ceiling as if trying to reach for something in the back of her mind. “Oh,” she gasped, and pulled out her phone to show her something.

Annie stared at the painting on the girl’s screen with a puzzled look.

“Bertolt painted it,” the girl explained.

“He did?” Annie’s eyebrows raised in disbelief, and tilted her head to take a closer look. He was actually talented, she hated to admit.

The girl nodded, and scrolled down the screen to show Annie another painting; a completely different style but equally stunning.

“Did you paint this one?” Annie asked, and the girl nodded again; a slight reddish gleam burning on her cheeks.

“It’s nice.” Annie said, and she meant it.

The girl put the phone away, and offered her hand.

“I’m Mikasa,” she smiled, “Bertolt and Reiner are my classmates.”

“Nice to meet you,” Annie shook her hand. For once, she was genuinely glad to meet someone new.

“Have you seen them? Do you know where they are?”

Mikasa pointed to the other end of the room, and Annie followed her finger with her eyes across the sea of people to find Bertolt and Reiner drinking from a keg of beer. Her jaw dropped.

“Come,” Mikasa grabbed Annie by the wrist and dragged her across the room through the crowd.

Annie didn’t protest, but her face became more and more red with every step she took, until she was stomping her way towards her friends.

Reiner was the first one to see her, and his face quickly shifted into one of concern. Bertolt only turned to her when he felt Reiner’s elbow digging into his arm; his face serious now as well.

“I thought you were drunk.” Annie hissed, arms folding, eyebrows raising.

“We are,” Bertoldt rushed to say.

“And yet you keep drinking.” She accused. “So you called me for what?”

She turned to Reiner now, her piercing glare had him shuddering. Reiner had always been the easier one to break.

Reiner gulped, a drop of sweat running down his face. He searched for Bertolt with anxious eyes as though pleading for help.

“He made me do it,” Reiner finally burst out. “He made me lie so you would come to the party.”

“Reiner, seriously?” Bertolt gasped, throwing his hands up in the air with frustration. “You didn’t even try, can’t you keep a secret for once?”

Reiner shrugged and Annie cursed under her breath.

“Whatever, we’re already here,” Reiner said, “Since you are here, too, let’s have fun.”

Annie sighed. As angry as she was, she had to admit this was better than staring at her ceiling at home.

“If I stay, will you promise I won’t have to drag you home all drunk?”

“Promise,” they said in unison, and raised their cups to cheer.

“You can’t cheer with an empty hand,” Jean barged in between the two, handing Annie a cup. She rejected it with an awkward smile, and Jean shrugged before he chugged the cup himself.

“She’s not interested,” Eren said in a condescending tone, patting Jean on the back, harder than he’d meant. Too unstable to keep his balance, Jean nearly fell forward, and a second later they were both exchanging senseless insults and aimless fists until they both landed on the floor.

“Eren, stop bothering him, you’ll get your ass kicked again,” Mikasa ran to restrain him. Another guy pulled Jean to keep him away from Eren.

“Marco, let go!” Grunted Jean, even though the only reason he was standing was Marco holding his arm.

The meaningless argument carried on for another moment, and as everyone’s attention was drawn to them now, Annie used that opportunity to slip away for a moment. Hell, she needed a moment of peace. Through the corner of her eye, she sighted a door that led to the backyard, and with smooth steps she sneaked out.

As soon as she stepped outside, a nice breeze blew against her face; the fresh air filling her lungs, and she sighed in relief. She moved towards the railing of the deck, and leaned against it, looking up at the sky; a perfect clear night above her. What was wrong with her? She wondered. Everyone had been so nice, yet there she was, alone in the backyard with a lingering feeling of unease in her chest. Or so she thought.

“It’s nice, isn't it?” A stranger’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts, and Annie turned to find a young man sitting on the floor. Wide blue eyes fixed on the sky and a warm smile.

Annie followed his gaze to search for what he was looking at.

“Funny how they seem like they twinkle, when it’s actually just the Earth’s atmosphere that makes that illusion.”

Annie said nothing, but her eyes widened as she stared at the brightest, shiniest star she could find. “Even that one?” she pointed, a hint of skepticism in her voice.

“You mean Sirius,” he chuckled in amusement, “even that is an illusion.”

Annie now turned to him, watching him get on his feet to move closer to her, carrying a cup with him, eyes still on the stars.

“That other one is Regulus,” he pointed at another star and his smile widened as he stared at Annie with eager eyes, as though waiting for a reaction.

“...cool.”

What else was she supposed to say?

He let out an awkward smile, and his pale cheeks turned suddenly bright red. “Not a Harry Potter fan, I guess.”

What a nerd, she thought.

“Not particularly,” she said instead.

They stared at the sky for another moment, until Annie felt the need to fill that unbearable silence.

“Why are you out here?” she asked without turning to him. “Too crowded inside?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Annie could now feel his eyes on her, and the slightest feeling of unease gathered in her chest. She couldn’t help but to subtly turn to him, only to look away again the next moment.

“Do you smoke?” he offered her a pack of cigarettes, and Annie shook her head in reply.

“Yeah, neither do I,” he sighed, putting them away. “These are Eren’s, really. Mikasa asked me to hide them from him.”

“Mikasa’s a talented artist.” Surely if he knew Mikasa he couldn’t be such an ass, could he? Annie turned to him again. He was close. Closer than a moment ago, and still staring at her, bright blue eyes reflecting the silver gleam of the stars. She ignored the feeling in her guts and refused to look away.

This seemed to amuse him. He lowered his gaze now with a shy smile, and took a long sip from his drink with a deep grunt.

“God, this is so bad. How can people drink this?” He squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips, making Annie laugh.

“It can’t be that bad…” She sneered.

“You see for yourself,” he handed her the cup, eyes still shut hard in disgust.

Annie stared at the plastic cup with curiosity for a long moment.

Was she actually considering his offer?

He quickly looked around, as if expecting to find someone, yet nobody else was around.

“Fuck it,” she sighed, taking the cup and giving in a small sip without thinking about it any further. As soon as the bitter liquid slid down her throat with a slight burn, she regretted her decision.

“So bad…” She winced.

It was now his turn to laugh. A sound so sweet and soothing to her ears, that Annie almost wondered if there had been something in her drink that made her heart skip and her stomach twist. A rush of blood crawled up to colour her cheeks, and Annie now shook in silent laughter.

The stranger now turned to her, and as their eyes met, a sudden spark flashed between them, holding them both in thrall.

Annie’s body loosened, and as the overwhelming warmth faded, she could finally realize what that feeling gathering in her chest was. Fear. She shuddered in fear. Something she hadn’t expecience in a long time. But it was a strange kind of fear, the kind that made her heart flutter and her stomach drop. She moved even closer, as though drawn by some magnetic force, until she could feel his breath on her.

“There you are!”

A sudden voice came through the door and they both recoiled instantly; a drunk Eren struggling to walk straight outside “Have you seen my cigarettes?”

“No, Eren, I have not seen your-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eren lay flat against the floor.

“Shit, sorry,” the stranger excused himself, moving towards his friend. “Gotta go, but it was really nice talking to you.”

Annie watched him pick Eren up from the floor and disappear behind the door. It wasn’t until she saw Reiner and Bertolt come looking for her that she realized she hadn’t caught the stranger’s name.

-

From: When the Stars Blink Twice

Read full chapter here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32434150/chapters/80968576#workskin

[thgreatestblue]

false god [part II]

➜ pairing: kokushibou x fem!reader ➜ warnings: mention of prostituion, past trauma, smut, fluff (if you squint) ➜ words: 7.5k ➜ a/n: let’s start this hell of a year with a very long and spicy chapter, shall we? this is the second part of my fic false god, and i’m so excited to hear your thoughts for this chapter. thanks to everyone who left comments or likes, it made me so excited that now i’m already writing the third and final chapter!  ➜ ao3

➜ false god [part I] / false god [part III]

summary: The last piece of the puzzle you’ve been trying to put it together finally appears right in front of you, completing the picture you so feared to see, but knew that eventually it was going to be revealed. You understood everything now.

III.

The stars were brighter on this side of the country; there were an infinity of them, painting a beautiful pathway to heaven throughout the horizon. The sky was illuminated by their shine, in a space of time where they danced around the galaxy and lit up each corner of the universe, never letting darkness prevail. 

Or, it was just because you have been so afraid of the night for so many years, that only now you were able to fully appreciate its beauty. How the moonshine gleamed over the flowers and the petals seemed to sparkle tiny bits of stars over their form, so delicate you were afraid of touching — the white ones were your favorite, smooth like satin. 

Kokushibou’s house was in the countryside, in the middle of nowhere. The servants even had a special wagon and a few horses for when they needed to buy supplies. It was far away from the city noises; the chatting and the everyday life. Far away from the smell of cement and street food. From people; good and bad. From memories and dreams. From everything. 

It's been a few weeks since the first time you stepped into this world, one that was kinder than you expected. The servants were always calm, doing their tasks in such a peaceful motion that it was soothing to watch. It was a perfect mundane life, going to sleep covered in comfortable blankets instead of stick sweat, eating with others while talking without fear of being too loud. 

It was strange to think that everyday you caught yourself thinking this was a dream; because everytime you look at the flowers in the backyard, every time you felt the wind on your face and the warmth of the sun on your skin, you remembered of long lost dreams about having a normal life, hopes that were on the verge of dying, resurfacing in the deeps of your mind. It made your dreams a little bit happier, almost as if you were floating in a different dimension. 

The house had two floors; the first one is were the kitchen, the living room, the dinning room, and where the servant’s bedrooms were located — and even though when you lived with Muzan you had your own room, you didn't mind sharing with another girl if it meant to stay in this peace forever. 

The second floor though, you didn't know much about it. Only that it was where Kokushibou bedroom was, and where he spent most of his time, since he would only appear when the sun settled down. Sometimes you would hear heavy footsteps and noises of something being hit multiple times, so maybe it had a training room as well. 

You were on the second floor only a few times, most of them by his request — to ask you how things were going, if you were adjusting to the job. It was so unfamiliar, having a Demon, of all people, being so polite and thoughtful of your well being. You were definitely not used to kindness — to someone showing a minimum of respect — that everytime you would slightly blush, looking at his feet rather than his face. 

It was so out of your comfort zone, being treated like a human being. You sometimes had to laugh at how twisted your world had become to think that a simple “good morning!” from one of the servants was an act of generosity. One day you caught yourself tearing up as you watched the sunrise from the window. 

To what extent have you been broken? The pieces you always tried to put it back together now didn't seem to fit anymore; it was going to be a long way to find the right materials to build a new house for your heart, but at least you were given the chance to try. And if anyone had told you it was because of a Demon, you would have laughed. 

Kokushibou's presence was still heavy and unsettling for you. It still managed to keep you on your toes. Whenever he would appear from his bedroom, or even hearing his voice from another room, a red siren would go off in your mind. It was still a rooted fear you couldn't help feeling, no matter how much you repeated to yourself that everything was fine. 

His gaze on you didn't help the seed of doubt from staying rooted on your mind. Although the Demon didn't stay in the house at night — preferring going out and coming back only when the sun was about to show in the sky. However, on rare days when he chose to remain home, you would always try your best to stay far away; washing the dishes in the kitchen, feeding the horses, anything other than being at his company. 

It wasn't because you were afraid, not exactly, the old lady had said that in the beginning it was normal to stay alert when in his presence. It was something else. How his eyes seemed to always find its way to you, fixing on watching your movements from afar, traveling down your body when you were cleaning a room, or even when you were just standing next to him. 

You still remember how high you jumped one night when Kokushibou decided that it was a good idea asking for more towels for his bathroom by whispering in your ear. You’ve been dealing with Demons and men for so long in your life, it wasn't now that you were going to slip into wherever game he was playing. So, you tried your best to ignore those little things, moving on with your life as if his glance didn't make something crawl under your skin, begging to be scratched. 

As the night came and Kokushibou decided to stay inside, you found yourself in the kitchen, washing the dishes from the dinner. There’s a beautiful song playing on the radio, and the sweet melody makes you lose track of time, lost in imaginary scenarios and charming tales. When you come back, the dishes are done. 

Taking a long look at the kitchen, you notice that there’s nothing else to do; which means that you would have to come to the living to see if Kokushibou wanted something else, or you could go to sleep. You take a deep breath, leaving the apron on the table as you walk towards the room. The song is still playing but the volume has been tuned down. 

Kokushibou is seated next to the bookcase, reading. He seems so peaceful and unharmful like that — if it wasn't for those pair of eyes, you would have never guessed he was a Demon. His hair is always tied up on a ponytail, and sometimes you can’t help but imagine how he would look with it down. You immediately shake your head, trying to erase those intrusive thoughts that have been more frequent by each day. 

“Kokushibou-dono.” 

As a habit, you bow to announce your presence. As you look around, you notice that there’s no one in the room besides him. Probably already too late in the night to have many servants around, you glance at the clock and it was indeed past midnight. Before you can say anything else, he closes the book, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours. 

“Do you know how to dance, Y/N?” 

Saying that you were surprised by the question was an understatement. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out of it. Well, you did know how to dance, however, you highly suspect that it wasn’t that type of dance he was referring to. Your heartbeat starts to accelerate, something you were already used to when in the same room as the man.

“No, Kokushibou-dono,” Your voice sounds weaker than you intended, but that was another thing you were getting used to; apparently your body liked to react as a mess when in his presence, “I’ve never had the chance to learn.”

Kokushibou nods, getting up from the pillow he was seated on. And even after weeks, it was still mesmerizing to watch him move; how his hair would graciously swing from one side to another, his posture always so elegant and refined, even the way he walked was hypnotizing. He definitely was born as someone who belonged to a royal family. You wondered why, then. Why did he turn into a Demon if he was so skilled and polished like a real diamond?

“Follow me.” 

Before you can think too much about it, you follow him. Hands on your back, picking at your nails as anxiety starts to settle on your stomach; the odd feeling on your gut appearing from nowhere to poke at you, telling you to be careful and keep your eyes open. You watch him turn the volume a little bit higher.

“It gets easier once you learn the basics.” He says, looking at you from the middle of the room. The radio was playing a delicate melody that was perfect to put you to sleep, although right now not even the sweetest song would be able to calm you down. 

“… I don't understand.” You say, shifting your weight from one leg to another.

“I’m teaching you how to dance.” Kokushibou simply explains, fixing the sleeves of his kimono with a serene expression; as if nothing was wrong, as if this was normal.

You hold your breath as he extends his hand in your direction. The look on his eyes is almost inviting if it wasn't for the fact that he was a Demon, and above everything else, your lord. There's a very fragile line Kokushibou is crossing by inviting you to dance, inviting you to be intimate with him. And you're not sure if you are ready to face the consequences — to take a step in a territory that he has been cornering you since the moment you arrived. 

However, like everything in your life, you don't have a choice. So, you release the air you were holding, pressing your lips together as each step in his direction starts to consume your entire body. Kokushibou's gaze is fixed on your face — if becoming a mess of yourself in front of him was one of your habits, his stare on you was one of his. 

You hesitate before touching his hand. His fingers brush against your palm, so delicate that you have to double remember yourself of your position, of who the man was. Kokushibou hands were rough and big against yours, but held your palm on his with a tender flow. You bite your lips as he grabs your other hand and puts on his shoulder.

Kokushibou hums with the song as his other hand comes to rest on the small of your back; the sound vibrates in his chest and through your skin. It was as if you were struck by lightning; every hair on your body standing with every touch. 

“It’s an easy six steps tempo, just follow my lead.” Kokushibou’s voice so close to your ears is sinful; it’s dangerous. His low tone always did things to your stomach, and you knew it wasn't because of fear. 

Kokushibou nods at you before taking a few steps around, leading your body to move with his own. He’s so close you can feel his heat, the ghost of his breath on your neck sends shivers down your spine. It takes all of your will to not stare at his hand holding yours, your legs already having some trouble to work properly.

“I’m sorry...” You flinch as you step on his foot, but he doesn't say anything. 

It was quite an easy dance, and the way Kokushibou lead you made it even easier — if it wasn't for your nervousness it would have been almost fun. You watched his feet move from side to side until the rhythm was stuck in your mind, focusing on the dance instead of his body so close to yours - which was hard, every step making you come closer and closer. 

“Eyes on me.” Kokushibou whispers close to your ear. 

You immediately look up at him, his voice takes you out of the trance you had created to stay safe. And it takes only one look at him to make everything come crumbling down. The hand on your back brings you closer and your mouth slightly parts, breathing through it seems easier when his chest comes to touch yours. 

Kokushibou squeezes your hand lightly as your eyes travel down his face. Up close like this, you can see each detail, his title of Upper-Moon One carved on his eyes, the texture of his perfect skin, the intrinsic shape of the red marks adorning his forehead — he’s indeed a beautiful man with interesting features. 

It’s only when he hums again with the song that you realize you have been staring at his mouth for too long, a smirk growing at the corners of it is enough to shake you out of your trance; cheeks going warm and red in shame. Kokushibou presses a little closer to your body and you feel like combusting in flames with the feeling of his breath against your neck.

The song slowly fades away, and he continues to guide you as it finally comes to an end. Kokushibou gradually stops his movements, but still holds your hand, maintaining you in place. And you don’t know what to do with yourself; standing in the middle of the room with his stare still pinning you down, the touch of his rough hands still holding yours. 

“Thank you, Kokushibou-dono.” It takes all of the strength left in your body to pull back, taking a few step backwards. 

You are the first one to move and break the little bubble you two created. Kokushibou nods, letting you go from his hold. The weight of his hand still linger on your back, a ghostly feeling that you knew wouldn't go away that easily, if ever. 

“Good night.” You could only hope your voice wasn’t trembling as much as you were on the inside.

You bow, turning around and making your way back to your room. Trying your best not to run from his gaze, form his touch, from everything that had happened in the past few hours. 

With your heartbeat on your throat and the phantom feeling of his body still pressed into yours, you scream into the pillow until fatigue comes to take over you — putting you out of your misery, for now at least.

IV.

You could complain as much as you wanted, but Kokushibou’s home was so much better than Muzan’s. The opportunity to stay in the sun in the morning, feel the breeze hitting your skin as you washed the bedding in the backyard, the warm of the sun on your skin everyday even helped gaining a little more of color. As the summer went by; the sight of rain gracing your eyes, birds flying around the field with their beautiful singing, you realized how deprived you’ve been from simple things. 

For 3 years you had stayed in the dark, almost never leaving Muzan’s house — surrounded by darkness and the metallic smell of blood, with no friends to help you when the nights were too scary. The only thing you liked was the sounds of the city, but even that became a nightmare, to think that there were so many victims in a single place would give you so much anxiety. 

Even though Kokushibou was still a Demon, this was a far cry from the place you were just a few months ago. You couldn't say it was the best option though, you were still involved with a supernatural being that could easily kill you in a blink of an eye. The only difference was that he did seem to respect who worked for him — and an extra interest in you. 

Taking another bite of a very sweet apple, you swing your leg casually, humming a random song while you were sitting on the big porch at the back of the house. The yard extended until it reached an infinity of trees, covering your view of the pond a few minutes from the house. You had heard it was a beautiful place, but havent had the time to go yet. 

“Y/N, Kokushibou-dono is calling for you.” The old lady calls you from the window. You silently nod, taking a long breath before looking at the sky. 

It had been a few weeks since he invited you to dance; since he had touched you in such an intimate way that no lord should be touching his servants. The odd sensation still lingered in your gut, but the feeling of his firm body against yours, his big and strong hand on the small of your back, the warmth of his breath against your skin, his lips inches from your neck… Gods, it was enough to send you to a place where you wouldn't be able to come back even if you tried; already lost in those six eyes all over again. 

It has been a tough task to pretend that the small moment didn't affect you. The aftertaste stuck in your tongue like the sweetest apple you’ve ever eaten, and you hated to see yourself in such a state. Everytime he would enter a room, every time his eyes stared at you, hearing his voice… Your body would tense, goosebumps spreading through your body, but this time not because of fear. 

No man has ever had this impact on you, and you’ve been with quite a lot of them. 

It was still afternoon, the sun shining in the sky was a sight you would never take from granted again. What does he want with me now? You ponder, thinking about the last time he had asked for you. You were supposed to just hand him the ink, but of course he had to touch your hand for a little bit too long while grabbing it. 

What Kokushibou wanted from you was something you could only imagine, there was nothing predictable about him. But if you dared to listen to the odd feeling in your gut, you knew exactly what it was going to happen — you were just denying it at this point. 

Throwing away the rest of the apple, you make your way upstairs with your heart in your throat. Each step closer to his bedroom felt like an eternity, the hallway seeming like an endless corridor while the tension building up in your muscles were making your body ache. Stopping by his door, you run your hand through your hair; fixing the few strands that had escaped from your bun behind your ears. You take a deep breath to calm down your nerves before knocking on the door.

There’s a small pause before you can hear the sound of a chair dragging just a little across the floor, you can practically feel the expectancy choking you as you hear him stepping closer. You bite down your bottom lip right at the moment Kokushibou decides to open the door.

“Kokushibou-dono, how can I help you today?” You try to sound as casual as possible, trying your best to ignore the way his eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds before meeting your eyes. 

“Come in,” He says, walking back inside his bedroom, “And close the door.”

A strong chill runs down your spine and you have to strain yourself from quivering; a thin layer of sweat is forming on the palm of your hands, but you quickly clean it on your clothes. There was no use to be nervous right now, you were already at the predator’s door, head right inside his mouth, just waiting for its teeth to sink on your neck and break it. 

Kokushibou's presence brought another type of nervousness, one that left you shaking from head to toe; but instead of cold settling in your stomach, it was pure fire consuming your entire being. 

As you step inside, closing the door with your back, you take a quick look at the room. It’s fairly simple and definitely what you expected; a big and expensive futon is placed right in the middle, the bedding is clean and tidy up — something he probably never uses but keeps it as a habit. There’s two paper lanterns at each side of the futon, the light coming from them is minimal, leaving the room with a somewhat cozy atmosphere. 

You see him standing beside a table by the corner of the room. There’s a few books piled up at one side, a wooden tray with a few bottles and glasses on the other. He picks one of the bottles and pours himself a glass, filling just half of it. 

The liquid is thick and dark; you can’t see what it is, but you have an idea — Muzan used to drink blood in front of you all the time, and you always wondered when he would want to drink directly from a source. Then, he picks another bottle, and pours another glass. The liquid seems more diluted and a shader brighter, this time the smell hits your nostrils; it’s wine. 

Kokushibou grabs both of the glasses, and holds one in your direction. He looks calm and collected; there’s no room to interpret his actions, his features never giving away what he was really thinking. The light hits one side of his face, the other is half hidden by the shadows, but it’s clear how all of his eyes are staring at you, his hair is in a perfect ponytail, swinging perfectly as he moves to hand you the glass.

“...Thank you.” Fingers brushing against yours, you take the glass. 

Your gut screams something you can’t seem to hear; it seems like your mind went numb the moment you entered the room — not listening to any of the alarms that went off in your head. You can only feel your stomach tossing and turning around as you watch the man leaning on the table, studying you from behind the shadows like a predator plotting how to kill its prey.

“Before working for Muzan-sama, you worked at Yoshiwara.” Kokushibou says in a low tone, taking a sip of the drink.

Immediately, your cheeks burn. You clench your jaw as the sour memories start to come back from the deepest of your mind. He wasn't asking a question, it was rather a statement - and you had a few ideas how he got that information. Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a long sip of the wine — and for the first time you’re glad that he decided to give you the beverage.

“I worked for Daki for some time,” You tell him, feeling the bitter taste in each word, “She introduced me to Muzan after I kept my promise of not telling anyone about her.”

It wasn't something you were proud of, not in the slightest. You were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. You had been so close from dying that night that anything else felt so little, compared to facing a Demon with a bloodlust so high that you couldn't count how many bodies you had seen that night. 

However, it was covering up that atrocity, or dying. And you didn't want to face what afterlife had in store for you that soon. So you begged and cried, and like a miracle, Daki gave you the benefit of the doubt. After that, it only took 5 months from that incident for you to come work at Muzan’s house; selling your fate once again. 

“So you did work at a brothel, didn't you?” His fingers tap the wooden table and you have to hold yourself still, trying not to shrink under his words. He stops the glass midway from his mouth, choosing to drink your reaction instead. 

You did work as a prostitute, didn't you?

The silent question hangs in the air, you can’t bring yourself to open your mouth, to move. It was quite clear that he knew everything about you, there was no need to lie or hide any information, it would only piss him off. 

However, the fact that he was making you say it - confirming the fact himself — was something that felt a bit degrading. You finally nod, not being able to find your voice anymore. Then again, it wasn't something you were proud of — apparently, you weren't proud of anything in your life. 

Kokushibou slowly takes a sip of his drink then, eyes traveling down from your face to your body; studying every inch of your being. And every single part his eyes gazed upon, it would set your skin in flames, until you were combusting in anticipation.

“Show me.”

Your heart stops beating for a second only to come back at full force; and it hurts your chest, the impact leaves your rib cage aching at each pound of your desperate heart.  

“...I beg your pardon?” You had to ask, you probably heard it wrong and this was your mind playing tricks with you, you knew how twisted it could get. There was no chance that Kokushibou was asking you to...

“I told you to show me,” He says in a challenging tone, raising an eyebrow, “Or did you lose your touch?” 

Suddenly, everything falls into place.

The last piece of the puzzle you’ve been trying to put it together finally appears right in front of you, completing the picture you so feared to see, but knew that eventually it was going to be revealed. You understood everything now. 

All those long stares, the need to touch your skin every time he had the chance, the dance… Everything was just small steps he was taking, leading you to a direction he had in mind since the beginning. Building you up for this moment; so you wouldn't hesitate, so you wouldn't run away; afraid of what might happen.

Kokushibou wasn’t a stranger asking for your services, not anymore. Because you had had a taste beforehand, because he had built you up into someone who would want him as much as he apparently wanted you.

The worst part was: it worked.

“What if i don't want to?” 

All your life you were never given an option. It was selling your body or dying in the streets. It was waking up everyday knowing that you were covering up dozens of murders, or being murdered by the hand of a Demon. It was hearing screams of agony as you laid your head on the pillow, or being the one devoured. It was never what you wanted, but what you needed to do to survive. However, for this you needed to have a choice.

“Then, you can turn around and leave.” He says with no heat in his voice, motioning towards the door.

For some twisted reason, now that you truly knew what he wanted from you all this time, you relaxed. The tension left your bones as your mind processed his words. Your gut didn’t scream anymore, the pitch of your stomach now was filled with another type of warmth. 

Kokushibou was a beautiful man, and somehow you knew this wasn't going to be bad. Not when he could have just pushed you in a room and had his way. Probably it was his pride not letting him act so animalistic, choosing to have a partner that was on the same page; reciprocity.

You finish the rest of the wine in one single gulp, letting the drink burn down your throat. 

Approaching him, you sensually bite your bottom lip, letting the glass on the table before slowly getting down on your knees — if you were really going to do this, then you would put on a show. 

Feather touching his thighs, you leave a few soft kisses on his crotch over his clothes, he hums in response, watching you closely as you grow bolder with open mouth kisses, feeling his cock respond to the stimulus through the thin fabric.

Kokushibou licks his lips, glass long forgotten by his side — you had his full attention now. His hands were gripping at the side of the table as he watched you; and you made sure to watch him back, each moment caught by your eyes; two could play this game. As soon as you start to untie the knot of his hakama, his hand comes to rest on your cheek, his thumb caressing it while the other fingers wrapped around your neck. 

You tease at first, lapping and sucking sweetly at his head, your hands squeezing at the base. His taste is strong and heavy on your mouth, a little bit salty but you don’t mind. You look at him between half open eyes, batting innocently your eyelashes at him. He groans low in satisfaction, as you feel his cock grow harder on your tongue. You think about keeping teasing him, but then he eagerly pulls your neck closer, and you swallow down his full length in a swift motion. 

It hits the back of your throat, and you have to fight back your gag reflex — it has been quite a while since you did this. He groans louder in approval, still rubbing your cheek while you swallow down his length again. Hands starting to move up and down, you fall into an easy pacing, bobbing up and down your head as you suck his cock, lips closed tight around it to give the right amount of pressure. 

Kokushibou's hand grips even tighter around your neck each time you swallow him down, tongue rubbing against his length. A little bit of saliva drips down the corner of your mouth and he cleans it with his thumb, running it over your bottom lip that is now red and swollen. You glance up at him, always trying to keep eye contact. 

His eyes start to fall half open, mouth slightly open, his breathing starting to become unsteady. You reach between his thighs to stroke his balls, and his moan vibrates through his body and you can feel it on your mouth. It makes you eager, sucking him harder, wanting to hear more of those sounds coming from him. 

And because you can’t help, you let your teeth slightly scrape along his cock. The sharp inhale Kokushibou takes is music to your ears. He grips your hair and pulls it as punishment, making you whine at the burning sensation on your scalp, but it’s worth it. 

The grip on your hair tightens as he pulls your head back until only the tip of his cock is inside your mouth. Then, he bucks his hips further; fucking your mouth in a ruthless pace. All you can do is take it, holding onto his tights as hard as you can, trying to not gag as he shoves his cock down your throat. You can taste his precum filling your mouth, heavy on your tongue. 

He pulls your head back again, and you release his cock from your mouth with a loud pop.

"That's enough.” He commands, voice low and rough that makes you shiver. You watch his cock stand against his stomach in full length, he’s big, “Now, undress.”

Before getting up though, you lick at the side of his cock, from the base to the tip, leaving a wet kiss at his head and Kokushibou groan resonates through his chest. He unties the ribbon that was holding your bun, and your hair falls loosely on your back. 

All of his six eyes are following your movements as you stand, fixed on each swing of your hips, each batting of eyelashes you throw at him. What once made you flinch, now is more than welcoming. It sets on your bones like a tender touch, sweet like honey as you savor all of his lust. Lust for you. 

You move your body sensually; throwing back your loose hair to show more of your neck, running your hands down your chest as each piece of clothing falls into the floor. Now that you knew exactly what to do — what he really wanted from you — it was so much easier to stay under his gaze without quivering, even when he started to lazily stroke his cock while watching you undress. 

When the last piece of clothing falls into the floor, you turn around, spinning on your heels. It had been awhile since you showed off your naked body to someone, the confidence that you had a few years ago decreased slightly, but seeing how Kokushibou was affected by the display — hand now stroking his cock faster — was enough to dismiss all the doubt starting to rise on the back of your mind. He has chosen you, after all.

You step closer, grabbing his kimono and sliding down his strong arms, tossing on the ground without batting an eye to see his reaction. At the first glimpse of his bare chest, your mouth waters. You knew he was strong, but hell, he was ripped. His body was so perfectly sculpted that you have to bite your lips to stop the small whine daring to escape your mouth. Your hands travel down his stomach, feeling the very defined muscles with the tip of your fingers. 

Kokushibou grabs your chin, his breath hits your skin like fire. It spreads down your body and you shiver from the ecstasy of his touch; there’s a certain expectation growing on your being, waiting patiently until the final moment when he decides to fuck you — and damn it your sanity for not wanting anything else right now. His eyes are locked on your lips, red and swollen from sucking his cock. He leans closer, but before he could meet your lips you pull back just a little bit.

“I don't kiss my clients.” Your voice comes out rasp, your lips brushing his. It’s an empty threat, however, you needed to tease him as much as you could before he fucked you out of your mind. 

“Good thing i’m not a client.” Kokushibou bites back, his grip tightens on your chin. 

He wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you towards him, and you come crashing into his body. You moan as his muscles rub against your nipples; feeling his cock, hot and erected, on your belly sends a wave of warmth down your belly. He moves his hips, slowly rubbing his cock on your clit. You throw your head back a little, moaning. 

“No. You aren't, my lord.” You manage to say between small whimpers of pleasure as he squeezes your ass and grinds harder against you. 

He groans at your words, and not wasting any more time, devours your mouth. It’s rough and borderline desperate, slamming your lips together with no room to breathe, the warmth of his skin intoxicating your better judgment. His mouth is unforgiven, teeth pulling and biting your bottom lip between kisses. You gasp in his mouth and he takes that as an opportunity to shove his tongue inside, yours coming to meet his, sliding against each other with desire on its tip. 

It’s dizzying the feeling of his touch on you, how he pulls your hair and runs his tongue on the seams of your lips. It clouds your head and increases your desire, making you rock against his body, your pussy pulses with desire, searching for some kind of relief from the tension building up on your lower belly. 

Kokushibou runs his lips down your neck, sucking then licking the spots he meets. It leaves you breathless, holding on his arms for dear life as he travels down your body and savors every single part of your tender skin. His tongue leaves trails of fire, marking each part with his saliva and brute carnal lust. 

Without any warning, Kokushibou bites down on your neck. It stings so much that you know it broke your skin, but you helplessly moan. It’s definitely going to bruise and it’s going to be ugly. But right now you don't care. He sucks the spot, drinking your blood as the best licor he ever had. 

Kokushibou sucks the sore spot again, making you whimper, before releasing you from his grip, pushing you away just a few inches so he could finish undressing the last pieces of clothing. And heavens, his body was even more perfect under the dim light coming from the lanterns; as the light casts shadows over his form, making the shape of his muscles sharper and defined. 

He puts both hands on your waist, motioning for you to walk towards the futon. Your heart beats faster on your chest. Kokushibou wasn’t a very vocal man, preferring showing what he wanted through actions. So, he pushes you, and you fall down on the soft surface with your legs open; his eyes immediately are filled with a different type of hunger, and you instantly can feel what he wants - though, this time, you wanted him to devour you. 

You hold yourself on your elbows as he kneels between your legs, and you can feel how wet you’re, though he didn't even do more than touch you. Damn, when did you become so desperate. You were already a mess, hair sticking on your forehead, breathing through your mouth because you can’t seem to make your lungs work anymore. 

Or maybe it was just him and his overpowering effect on you, like no one else ever did. 

His fingers hover over the delicate skin of your legs, traveling on the inside of your thigh in a feather touch that makes you whimper from how sensitive you are feeling from those small stimulations. You watch him from behind heavy lashes, his body in full glory over you should be a sin, it should be your salvation. 

How beautiful and desirable he was, standing in between your legs just like that, eating you out with just a gaze. You moan as you watch his body move, each muscle carved on his skin as a perfect work of art. Your eyes fall on his length and your pussy clench on nothing, wishing he would bury himself inside you already. 

“Turn around.” He commands in a low tone, leaning down and caging you in, hands fisted at either side of your head. 

Your breath gets caught up on your throat, suddenly he is so heavy above you that not a single thread of air gets on your lungs. You slowly nod, turning around so you would be lying on your stomach, then you push your hips backward, rubbing against his cock. The contact has both of you moaning. 

Kokushibou quickly grabs both sides of your hips to rub his cock between your folds, your head falls down between your shoulders as you moan desperately at his thrusts. His front is hot and firm against your back. But the way he’s teasing is tortuous; with slow drags of his length against your clit. It makes your whole body tremble underneath the pressure. 

“Kokushibou, please…” The pleading scapes your lips before you can process it. It makes your body burn in shame — never in years of working in the field you pleaded for someone. 

And you can feel how pleased he’s with himself when his mouth on your neck turns into a smirk. He bites down on your shoulder and you flinch, waiting for another wave of pain, but this time it’s gentle, still hard enough to leave a mark, though.

He positions his cock on your entrance, and you hold your breath, biting so hard on your bottom lip that you can taste blood. He pushes past your folds, pushing his way inside you so dangerously slow that has you moaning for more. You grip the sheets, knuckles going white. The burn that comes with him stretching you open is blinding, but you want more. 

You don’t know if he’s going slow on you because he wants to let you take your time to adjust to his size, or because he likes to see you plead for more. You try to push your hips backwards, to finally have his cock buried till the tip inside you, but he stops your movements with his strong hands, holding your hips in place. Yeah, definitely the latter.  

“Look at you, taking me all in with no struggle.” He purrs in your ear, still pushing half of his cock inside, “I’ll have to tell Daki that you are much more than what she sold you for.”

Your eyes grow wider with the confession, but before you can say anything, he shoves the rest of his length inside you and all the air is knocked off your lungs. He doesn't wait for you anymore, leaving just the very tip of his cock inside, then thrusting in you with enough force that has you tumbling over your arms, cheek buried in the sheets. 

Kokushibou falls into a rough rhythm, the sounds of skin on skin fills the bedroom as he slam his cock inside you, his nails digging deeper on your hips, biting down another spot on your shoulder. You moan, and then again, and again; each one louder than the other, not being able to hold back your voice with each drag of his cock. 

He deliciously stretches you open; the burning sensation fading away as pleasure overtakes it, your pussy clench around him, sucking him in. You thrust your hips to meet his movements, arching your back so your hips are higher, so he can go deeper. Every time he moans in your ear you feel yourself drifting from reality, mind clouded by the pleasure and by his voice. 

“Oh—nnh, harder,” 

With only his precum and your wetness easing his way, Kokushibou raw thrusts ruins you, making you feel each of them ten times more. The way he bites down on every inch of your body is animalistic, marking you all over. It’s going to be a pain to hide from the rest of the servants - but right now you can’t bring youself to think about that — asking him for more and more until you’re painted purple and blue. 

There’s no room to think, to breath. You were turned into a mess of whining and moans as he breaks you until there’s nothing left but your voice; hoarse, but surely screaming for him. He fucks you hard into the futon; your eyes roll back, toes curling with the upcoming orgasm, your entire body trembles over his thrusts.

Your knees almost give in, but Kokushibou holds your hips up, slamming inside you mercilessly, his moans starting to fill the room as well. The sounds coming from his thrusts are filthy and wet, but barely audible, your moans overtaking any type of noise. For once, you are grateful that this room doesn't have any windows, or else, everyone would’ve heard you by now — but you suspect that’s probably what he wants. 

“Aah, nnh, — K-Kokushibou!” You moan, not recognizing your own voice anymore.

Kokushibou cups your breast and squeezes harshly, dragging his nail over your nipple. You jerk away with the sting, but falls right back into his thrusts; it buries so deep inside you feel youself being torn apart, his cock throbbing inside meets the beats of your heart. Tears run down your cheeks, and he licks it as if he’s savoring each part of you that he can get. 

“You're a really one of a kind,” He whispers in your ear, biting down your lob, “And now, I have you all to myself.”

The heat on your stomach is unbearable, you can’t take it anymore, it’s consuming you, driving you over the edge so fast that you can’t put a stop on it. Your pussy tightens so hard around Kokushibou’s cock that he has to stop his thrusts, your scream is muffled by the sheets as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. 

Kokushibou doesn't let you catch your breath though. He pins your head down, slamming into you fast and rough that you have to ride down your orgasm while he continues to fuck you. You whimper, over sensitive, but he doesn't stop, moaning a bit louder as his thrusts starts to become more desperate and erratic. 

He comes inside you with a guttural moan that has you shivering, it shakes you down to your core, hitting the deepest part of your being. You moan while his cum, hot and thick, fills you up. 

Even though you were oversensitive, he continues to ride his orgasm lazyly thrusting into you until it starts to become borderline painful. Now that the adrenaline is leaving your body, you can feel your back aches from the position, your bones are heavy and all you want is to lay down and catch your breath.

Probably sensing your distress, Kokushibou stops his thrusts; but stays inside you. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to the side, so both of you could lay on the futon. He buries his face on your neck, and even though the feeling of having a cock inside you after you both came is odd, you decide not to mention it. 

Your eyelids are heavy, you’re tired and still drunk from the orgasm. Usually at this moment you would get up and leave, but since Kokushibou didn't say or made any movement to let you go, you decide it’s safe enough to fall asleep just like that.

[johnkrrasinski]

Cherry Pie 🍒

full masterlist

Pairings: Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 2,181

Warning: SMUT!!!! a lot of sexy times. steve being a horny boyfriend. public sex, fingering, oral sex. (MUST BE 18+) 

Summary: you boyfriend, steve rogers is an insatiable little shit. but you loved it though. 

a/n: this one’s for @nellblazer​‘s “The 80′s Challenge.” i chose the song prompt “cherry pie by warrant” and when i read the lyrics, i immediately knew that i had to write something sexy with steve rogers based on the song.

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South Waren was a peaceful suburban city where most newlyweds migrate to, to start a new beginning, write on a fresh page and build a family life of their own. The tranquil community was one of the most innocuous and amicable districts in America. 

Noiseless and serene; those are the most fitting words to describe the tone of the neighbourhood. Each morning, there would only be the chirping sounds of the birds, joyful giggles of the kids as their parents kiss them goodbye before they leave for school and the sonorous chitchats of the wives as they are going for an early jog. 

But the rules were violated since you and Steve moved to the well-grounded town. 

To say that you were a lovely pair of newlyweds would be an inadequate understatement. You and Steve were practically rabbits. Before you decided to tie the knot, you and Steve dated for two years until Steve surprised you with a stunning diamond ring as he got on his knees. 

To the people that you pass on the streets or the waiters/waitresses that served you at a five stars restaurant, you looked like a normal, lovely couple. But to those who are unfortunate enough to be close enough to you both as friends, that they’d often go on double dates with you or attend major events together or those whom the devils targetted in red underline because they were ill-fated enough to live near you… May the heavens be with them. 

You and Steve just couldn’t get enough of each other. There wasn’t a single day where you could spend more than one hour without leaving subtle touches and vamping glances on each other that would result in you both lying bare on top of each other, bathed in sweat and inebriating euphoria. 

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Thanksgiving last year, you invited Steve to celebrate the day at your parents’ house. On the dinner table, Steve was a refined gentleman, dressed in a plaid blue shirt. He brought a bottle of Beaux Freres Willamette Valley Pinot Noir from 2017 as he charmed the pants off your parents with his courteous manners and judicious words. He’d crack a few witty jokes that would effortlessly elicit laughter out of your sister and your parents. 

But when the midnight lurks and when it was only the two of you in the tiny kingdom that was your childhood room, it was a whole ‘nother story.

Steve had you pinned beneath him doggedly as if you were nothing but a rag doll that he could mend and break whenever he wants. He sealed your moans with his palm as he vehemently pounded into you as you tried so hard to mute your cries, but you couldn’t any longer. Your parents’ room was literally next to yours and you’d be doomed if they heard the sounds of your moans and whimpers due to Steve’s brutal thrusts. 

“Shh, you don’t wanna wake your parents up, do you?”

You felt like he was splitting your body apart with his enormous cock that was relentlessly moving in and out of you. Your brain was cluttered as you felt the tightening coil in your stomach. Your muffled wails grew louder as you held on to Steve’s dishevelled hair with your polished nails leaving fiery scratches down his back. 

“I can feel how tight you are for me. C’mon, cum for me, baby. Cum for me now!” Just a few more deep-seated thrusts and the inflating bubble inside you burst. You were grateful to whatever disappointed God and angels in heaven, watching over you for Steve’s dexterous hand that was still swaddling the noises from your lips because you were practically shrieking and your whole body trembled. Steve kept going until he reached his own release and that’s when he lifted his hand off your mouth too. 

He kissed you passionately, tangling his tongue with yours as he breathed into your parted mouth. Your drop of sweats mingled as your sticky bodies jumbled with each other’s warmth and remnants. He got himself off you then laid next to you in your small twin-sized bed. He pulled you close against his chest and you laid there with your labouring breath beginning to slow down. 

“You just defiled my impeccable, childhood room.”

“We just did, baby.”

“But you coerced me into it.”

“Yeah, but you loved it.”

“I sure did.” 

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You and Steve had this tradition every Friday night with your friends back when you still lived in Brooklyn. You would come to Barton’s Nest; a ramshackle Victorian pub owned by Clint, to have a drink and share a few tales and hilarity of the despair and the discrepancies the week had afflicted each one of you. 

When the night got a little tipsy and you’d had a dozen of alcohol in your system, Steve would excuse you both from the table and drag you to the pub’s lavatory because he just couldn’t contain his deprivation of you any longer. 

Steve loved you whether you were in baggy clothes or when you were dressed like a lady; a silk red dress with cleavage so low and a slit so high that it enervates him on the knees every time you so much as breathe, let alone when you rub your high-heeled foot against his leg.

But Steve loved you the most when you were like this; a petite tank top displaying your lovely shoulders and fitting high-waisted skinny jeans that suit you like a magician with a pair of gloves. You looked casually beautiful and he just felt the mighty urge to take you right there in the bathroom stall. 

You were reclining on your hands against the sink as you threw your head back, your skull nearly hit the mirror, with Steve’s fingers down your pants. Your jeans had been pushed down, pooling around your ankles with your underwear still on as it got ruined with your dampened pussy. 

His fingers deliciously stroked your clit before it moved lower to your opening and intruded your body with their lengths. His skilful fingers scissored your inside as you moaned in pleasure. The lust overclouding your mind, blurring your visions like fog on the mirror. 

“Fuck, Steve…” You could feel your knees wobbling, and if he weren’t standing so close to you, you would’ve collapsed on the floor already. 

“What is it, babygirl? My fingers fucking that cunt good, down there?” As he grazed the spot that erased all the memories and knowledge stored in your brain because it was so tantalizingly precise. 

“So good, yeah…” You uttered breathlessly. You bit your lip, trying to suppress your cries, fearing that someone would walk by and they might hear you. 

But Steve was a reprobate varmint. He couldn’t care any less about people hearing you both or knocking furiously on the door. He didn’t even bother locking the door. When he had you in this misty state, he was going to take his sweet time in toying with your body with whatever creative method he came up with at that moment and he was going to have his fun. 

“Look at me.” With every control you regained over yourself, you opened your eyes to stare at baby blue ones that were a lot darker now; filled with desire and mischievousness. It was hard for you to keep your gaze at him when he was staring at you like this with his fingers unapologetically messaging your heated core, but you knew better than to disobey him. 

“Look at you, you’ve only got a couple of my fingers in that dirty cunt and you’re already this fucked out.” Then he kissed you, only to leave you even more sloven. Tongue taking over your mouth, as if he was marking his territory. 

“I can feel you clenching, babygirl. You can’t help yourself, can you?” 

“I’m- I’m so close, Steve, please…”

“You want to soak my fingers with your cum, is that it?” He teased. 

“Yes, yes, daddy, please.” 

“Go ahead, babygirl. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You didn’t hold back any longer, you squealed in bliss, the adrenaline of fornicating in such a public place ignited your senses. You made a mess all over Steve’s hand as your knees wavered. When you had given Steve all that you had, Steve only smirked maliciously, loving to see you crumble beneath him. It made him feel powerful, like a king who had just claimed victory over a battle. 

“There you go, so fucking messy.” 

When your high started to come down, your hazy sight stared into his delinquent face, as he retreated his fingers out of you and wrapped them around his lips. “So fucking delicious…” His mouth made obscene sounds of enjoying the taste of your release, painting an even more erotic atmosphere in the lavatory. 

You walked hand in hand after that to go back to your mates, pretending as if nothing hadn’t just gone down in the back of the pub. You sat with cum-drenched underwear in your jeans whilst Steve nefariously sipped on his beer and joked like a professional comedian.

Wasn’t the first time he washed his hands and got away with an impious crime.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

A drizzly Sunday evening, splatters of the rainfall clinging to your window; there wasn’t much to do other than being cooped up in your couch in your oversized sweaters and a mug of sweetened hot chocolate. 

The tenuous sounds of the movie playing before you shepherds the individuals before the screen. It had been a week since you and Steve had officially moved in and it took you three days long to set every furniture and embellishment in the right places. 

The ivory couch in the living room was new and clean until you and Steve decided to desecrate that too. 

You threw your head back and laid it against the length of the headrest, with your legs spread wide open, resting them on Steve’s sturdy shoulders. Your fingers massaged his scalp, trying to hold onto him for dear life. 

You were panting rapidly, not even bothering of containing your wails this time. Not when Steve’s face was caged within your thighs. You’d try to escape and lock them together but you couldn’t even if you wanted to anyway. Not when Steve was holding you down rigidly with his hands like this. 

His tongue made lewd noises of lapping your sit hungrily like a famished man. The way his beard would tickle the insides of your thighs made your head spin like an accelerated carousel. Drops of sweat clung to your skin as it fell to your breasts, burning up the temperature in the room, despite the chilly weather. 

Your stimulated sense tried to focus on the program playing before you, but you just couldn’t. You felt dizzy, your lips felt dry and you couldn’t think of anything else but the feel of Steve’s tongue sloppily sucking all the way up from your entrance to your clit. 

“Oh fuck, Steve…” 

Steve paused for a moment to look up at you. You were a salaciously picturesque sight. Covered in sweat, fogged with lust. Your lips were parted with your eyes closed. Your chest was heaving up and down and your breasts were displayed overtly above him. Your cold hard nipples were moistened with his saliva from his previous warmups before he moved to the more sensitive part. 

Steve resumed his violation on your body, as his right hand levitated to your hardened nipple. He groped the globe and pinched your nipple as if it wasn’t stiff enough already. He loved taking you from every possible angle and he loved exploring your body in the most adventurous way.

What can you say? He’s a multitasker. 

He slurped your flowing juices as your body kept producing due to his relentless devouring. He kept swallowing your sweetness until you fell apart. Your shrieks echoed against the walls, as you were engulfed in euphoria. You made a mess on Steve’s mouth but he didn’t mind one bit. 

In fact, he loved it. He loved you raunchy and he loved you nasty. 

“Oh fuck yeah, babygirl. You taste so fucking sweet. Just like cherry pie.” 

After you regained your composure, you opened your eyes and lift your legs off his shoulders. You got up from your seat and switched places with him. As if he had nimbly memorized the cue, he took your spot that was still warm from your butt, as he spread his legs to make room for you who were now on your knees.

You immediately zipped down his pants and pulled it down along with his briefs, just enough to unfetter his throbbing member and let it sprung free in the air. He sat with his arms rested against the length of the headrest where your head was previously placed on, like a king on his cushioned throne.

The imperious look on his face only got you going even more. You licked your lips as you maintained eye contact with his lust-drunken eyes. “Time to return the favour, daddy.”

[h2bakugou]

hey love 💓 i have a request for sumn really fluffy with kaminari! maybe y/n is alone on a friday night so she invites her best pal denki over to hang out and he immediately comes to her rescue. i'm thinking mutual pining that leads to the confession of feelings??? idk do whatever you think works!! i just really like cute kaminari content lmao

a/n: hey hun! oo yes fluffy kami content i am here for it!! i might do a mini-series for him, don’t know what it’ll be abt but i’ve been thinking about doing lil mini-series for some characters

summary: a boring friday night in your dorm leads to some confessions with your best friend and crush, denki kaminari

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff

word count: 1.6k

;cut for length;

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»»————-　★　————-««

Class had been over for hours, and now you were sitting on the floor of your freshly cleaned dorm room, bored out of your mind. Debating on starting up a movie and heading to bed early or playing some game on your phone, you let out an audible groan, frustrated from the lack of entertainment.

It was Friday night. You should’ve been asking if any of the third years were throwing some sort of party that you’d debate going to or up in the common room kitchen making food.

But now your fingers were typing away at the keyboard on your phone to 'Kami’ in your contacts, asking if he’d be down to stop your boredom from becoming fatal.

And in a matter of exactly four minutes and twenty-seven seconds, he was at your door with snacks and his own game console so you could play Mario Kart.

“You are an actual life saver.” You hug him quickly and pull him into your room, admiring the choice of outfit. It was most definitely his pajamas, a pair of loose grey sweats with a graphic tee that had some sort of video game reference on it.

“Anything for you, plus I was getting bored too.” The tone in his voice made your heart flutter. And the three words - anything for you - made your face burn. He was always so suave, even in the times that his charm was more comedic than it was actually charming.

“What should we do first?” You ask, sitting beside him, knee touching knee as you glanced at him and then back to your tv.

“Maybe watch a spooky movie.” Kaminari wiggled his fingers at you, leaning in and tickling your sides as you tensed and started laughing.

“Okay okay! We’ll watch a scary movie. You just want an excuse to cuddle me when you get scared.” You teased him back for tickling you. Kaminari rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“You’ll be scared during this one, it’s just come out, and the trailer had everyone going crazy.” Kaminari explained while he helped you find the movie. Turning off the lights, you returned with a blanket and tucked the two of you under it nice and cozy.

It had never felt weird between the two of you, like when you held hands or cuddled. You’d been Kaminari’s friend since entrance exams, and you’d been best friends since the first week of school.

And now that your heart longed to be more than just a friend or a best friend, holding his hand or cuddling with him filled that sort of odd space in your heart.

And Kaminari was the same. He enjoyed feeling your hand in his, or having your arms wrapped around his waist while you laid exhausted in his bed after a day of training in the gym.

He’d been crushing on you since day one, you were the one girl that never pushed him away, or dodged all his advances, you were sweet but tough, kind and sharp, you were everything Kaminari loved. 

Slinging his arm around your shoulder, he pulled you closer to him so he could rest his head on yours, his eyes flicking from actually paying attention to the movie to paying attention to you, to the way your fingers with chipped nail polish would reach for some popcorn and then retreat back to laying over his.

Whenever a jumpscare or scary part of the movie appeared, you’d both huddle into each other, too scared to try and make a witty remark about the both of you being wusses.

And finally when the movie had come to an end, an hour and a half had passed. You sat in the darkness while the credits rolled, giggling about the funny parts of the movie.

“And when the slasher was actually just walking and he still killed them, come on now! It’s not that hard to survive.” Kaminari groaned, frustrated that the plot had been so predictable.

“And you would survive one of these scenarios?” You smile, calling Kaminari out on his bullshit.

“I know I would. Because I would have you on my team.” Kaminari hums, flicking the tip of your nose. Your face scrunches up from the sting of impact. You shove him playfully and he pulls you over on top of him.

You sit on his lap and sigh.

“I mean If I wouldn’t die I guess I can’t let you die either.” You laugh, staring into his golden eyes.

“Have you had your first kiss yet?” Kaminari asked blindly. You’re taken aback by the question, it had come out of nowhere.

“I haven’t. But please don’t make fun of me because have you had your first kiss?” You raise your eyebrows, praying he hadn’t.

“I have. I’ve kissed lots of people.” Kaminari lied, trying to seem cool. He was shitting himself, he had the chance, the opening, the timing, it was all perfect. You were sitting in his lap, your fingers playing with the collar of his sleep shirt, all he had to do was lean in and kiss you.

Surely it wasn’t that hard. It was a kiss. He’d seen people do it in movies several times, countless times, and he’d heard from Mina that kissing was super intimate even just little playful kisses.

Surely he could do this.

“Are you listening to me?” You pull Kaminari out of his thoughts but he’s quick to answer your question, pressing his lips to yours. It’s short, very short, and a bit awkward. His lips fit against yours, and right when you go to kiss him back, he’s gone, pulling away from you to grin at you.

“Kami did you-”

“Was it good?” Kaminari asks, beaming with excitement. You smile and shake your head.

“It lasted for like three seconds, if you’re gonna kiss me, kiss me like you mean it dummy, like this.” You lean in and press your lips to his. You were new to this, and judging by that kiss, you knew that he’d lied. 

You guided his lips with your own, going off of what just felt right. Kissing wasn’t rocket science, it was a discovery, a journey, you just had to know how to lead and follow.

Pulling away when you needed to breathe, Kaminari was breathless, literally and figuratively. He stared at you with pink cheeks, awestruck by the kiss he’d just had with you.

“I thought you said you hadn’t kissed anyone!” Kaminari wasn’t upset, but he was curious as to how you’d kissed so well.

“I haven’t.” You were telling the truth, letting your arms rest on his shoulders you rested your forehead against his.

“Then how-”

“I don’t know.” You cut him off, laughing. Kaminari sighed and pressed another gentle and shy kiss to your lips, still unsure of how to really kiss you. It was sweet, but you reassured him that it wasn’t all that hard. You moved his hands to sit on your hips as you kissed him back, leaning more into the kiss.

Kaminari sat up some, taking the lead and finally showing some confidence. When he pulled away, it was your turn to be flustered. You looked away, trying to hide your red cheeks from him but his hands were quick to deter your movements.

“Please tell me that you like me back because-”

“I do.” You cut him off once more, finally looking back at him. Kaminari sighed and leaned back against your bed, happy to know that his feelings were mutual. You giggle and tug on his hands to pull him back up.

“Everyone already thinks we’re a couple ya know.” You tease, rubbing your thumbs over his knuckles.

“I know, believe Sero and Kirishima both keep telling me to make a move already and well I have now but I’m glad I did because god you are just so perfect and I was so scared that you didn’t like me and that I was just stuck in the friend-zone.” Kaminari pouted.

“Are you kidding?! I thought I was being friend-zoned! You’re always so flirty I was just like ‘oh my god he’s gonna reject me if I ask him out.’“ You laugh at your past thoughts, finding it funny that had you just trusted your heart you would’ve been together sooner.

“Why on Earth would I reject you?! You’re smart, funny, beautiful, pretty, beautiful.” Kaminari’s eyes are wide with admiration as he stares at you, a goofy grin on his lips as he holds you closer to him, letting you lay against his chest.

“You’re pretty too, Kami.” You compliment him, kissing his cheek delicately before resting your head back on his shoulder.

“Awe, thank you. No one’s ever called me pretty before.” Kaminari’s hands rub your back, tracing little shapes on your shirt as the two of you talk.

“Well you are beautiful so now you have.” You smile.

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” Kaminari asks, he didn’t have much money, but what he did have, he would most certainly use to at least take you to get a drink at a café or something.

“Of course.” You hug him, embracing the comfortable warmth he was radiating.

“Wanna watch me beat some bad guys on my new video game?” Kaminari offers some more entertainment and you’re quick to respond, hopping off of his lap so you can watch the screen. 

You lay with your head in his lap, his hands playing with your hair whenever his screen was loading or during a cutscene.

You eventually fell asleep, Kaminari managing to turn off the console shortly after to doze off with you.

The next day would bring more laughs, more kisses, and more time with Kaminari, and a few congratulations from your classmates who had seen the relationship coming from miles away.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[sasa-gay-yo]

Just Us (Chapter Eleven: Break Up)

← Chapter Ten

“A little higher, yes, right there! Now to the left, put the nail right below that truss. Perfect! I’ll hand you the sign.” I reached down and picked up the newly polished piece of wood with the cafe’s name on it in a fresh coat of paint for the year-end opening. 

Flynn’s 

Jonas took it in his hands and hung it up on the new wooden post. This time, it would hang off over the street so that people could see where we were. Before, the sign was nailed next to the door and was now fading drastically. While I kept the old sign there for memories, the new sign was a fresh red color and had been sealed by the carpenter to make sure it lasted longer than the last one. It was something I had meant to do for years, but never got around to it. Now that I was just sitting and making bread for the refugees, I had time to design the shape and font I wanted. The sign was a light wooden rectangle with dark, red cursive lettering and had another small circular sign with a cup of tea attached to it, indicating we were a café. 

“It looks nice, Eva. You picked a good wood to contrast the letters,” Ben marveled up at it as Jonas came down from his ladder. Whenever I had added or changed something about the café, I asked Ben his thoughts about it, seeing he was the only one, second to me, who cared the most about it. When I went to him saying I was buying a new sign, he rejoiced. 

Jonas shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at it too. He couldn’t grasp why this was such a monumental change to Ben and I who had to fight Mr. Flynn to even make a sign in the first place. There weren’t many visitors to Trost when he had built the café, but when we came along, things were changing and he hated it. The first time Catrin gave out fresh squeezed juice, he grumbled about it for weeks saying a café should just have bread and coffee. It was funny, but if we left Mr. Flynn alone with his precious café, he would have ran it into the ground.

“You think he hates it?” I looked up to Ben and he nodded and mirrored Jonas’s stance. There was almost some undertone of weirdness being friends with Jonas because when he hit puberty, he morphed into a younger version of Ben. It was also a bit awkward that the mirror image of my brother still had feelings for me. Maybe that was one of the reasons I didn’t see Jonas as someone other than my best friend or another brother. They looked too similar.

“Most definitely. The old man is rolling in his grave right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if a strong winter wind knocked it down.” We stood there for a few, marveling at the sign as the sun went down. Jonas was the first one to whine it was too cold and we took that as a sign to go back into the café. I still had to clean up and get ready for opening tomorrow. Ben and Jonas had promised to help me run the café tomorrow to hold off the rush of people coming. 

When I took out an add in the paper to announce my holiday hours, people had flocked to my door, there to confirm if the newspaper was right. When I told them I was, in fact, opening back for year-end only, people were already trying to put in orders. I think the people of Trost wanted normal back, and my café would give them some of it. 

“So the Garrison just dropped you like that? Without any warning?” Jonas swept some dirt into the dust pan. 

“It wasn’t like, out of the blue. I knew it was coming. They have nothing to give me for pay and I demanded pay. I would have done it for a few more weeks as well, just for the refugee’s sake, but with the allotted flour for year-end, I just couldn’t continue without them giving me their stores. I wish they did it a little after year-end though so I could have brought pastries to the refugees. Maybe next year will be a better harvest.” Ben looked up from the book he was reading and moved his feet so Jonas could sweep under them. Jonas mumbled something under his breath about his father not doing anything, but he left it unnoticed. 

“Could you just show up with some things? Maybe you could make enough to give the children?” Ben had also worked closely with the refugees, trying to help outsource jobs and employment opportunities for them when people still trusted them. By now, no one would take in refugees for work. 

“No, they aren’t letting any outsiders into the stockyards now. That might be another reason I can’t make bread anymore. I have no idea why they’re doing that, and I hope it’s not another isolation policy because Trost citizens are complaining again. I even asked a person in the Garrison who likes me, and he said he couldn’t say.” Jonas, again, grumbled something under his breath, probably about the refugees, and I threw a rag at his head. 

“Hey!” 

“You are almost thirty years old and have no regard for other human lives. Tch!” He threw the rag back at me a little harder and glared. Ben just looked on, smirking at the two kids he was used to bickering back and forth. Ben had said the first day he introduced Jonas to me, he knew we’d be best friends and perfect enemies.

“Well, we always seem to forget that two refugees attacked you and that our food supply is little to none because we have to give half of it to them. It’s not just Trost either, Aunt Catrin told us that Stohess is also struggling with the weight of a whole district. We’ll be starved by next spring, the titans won’t even want to eat us!” I put down my rag and just sighed, glaring at him as he swept quickly, wanting to get out of the café. Jonas had broken up with his third girlfriend of the year and he wasn’t in the mood to have a heated argument session with the girl that was still pushing him away. That was the reason she had broken up with him: he still had feelings for me. I was afraid to bring up Levi to him because of this, but I wanted to tell him. Everyday, I would get more and more uncomfortable lying to him.

“I’m sure the titans don’t want to eat you anyways, Jonas.” He stopped sweeping, glaring at the ground. Uh oh. 

“I guess no one wants me then.” It was Ben’s turn to widen his eyes at his son’s sadness. He had spent a few minutes lecturing Jonas about how long it took Ben to find Analee, but it didn’t help soothe his sadness. In all honesty, Analee was Ben’s first girlfriend and he got her pregnant before they were even married and both eighteen. He wasn’t the right person to give his son advice and neither was I. We both agreed to just forget Jonas said that and move on with whatever we were doing. 

“Well, you two, I’m going to get back home. Your sister was adamant I help her build that new desk before tomorrow. I’ll be here tomorrow at opening, Eva, like old times. Don’t come back late Jonas, or you’ll wake up your mother.” I smiled up him, casting away the mood Jonas put me in, and waved to my brother. Ben and I were the closest, probably because of our locations too, and I always felt calm when he was around me. He was the most like Mr. Flynn. Jonas was such the opposite, and I’d always wondered how Ben had made him.

When he left and the bell stopped ringing above the door, Jonas and I just let the silence consume us. At this point, he wasn’t even sweeping up dirt, but he didn’t want to talk to me in the bad mood he was in. Did she really have to break up with him when I was about to spend every day of the next week with him? It had nothing to do with his feelings for me, but everything to do with the awful mood he’d be in. Last break up, I had to pull him from the bar at least three times, waste a pale of water to sober him up, and he fell asleep completely on top of me, cutting off my breathing. I had told Levi about this and he threatened to break off his fingers in letter form, even if it was back when we were eighteen. Levi gave Jonas no chances.

“How many people do you think will be here tomorrow?” He broke the silence first and I was glad he’d changed the subject. I could talk to a regulars Jonas.

“I couldn’t say. I’ve had at least thirty come to the café in the past week asking. I don’t think there will be a lot of people at the tables, but most will be coming in and out.” He nodded and set the broom down, sitting with it. He’d probably swept the floors twice, but I guess the extra cleaning won’t hurt. 

“My dad’s been on my ass about learning how to work at the café. Something about character building…” Sounds like Ben. Well, sounds like Mr. Flynn, but same person. 

“I wouldn’t mind the extra help. Elias can’t really count money reliably enough to let me bake while he runs orders. I let him just take things in and out of the oven and to customers. Sometimes, I’ll even let him use the mixer. Elias is getting that vital character development. I’ve also thought about giving him this job when he gets old enough so he doesn’t have to work under his father.” I jumped back up on the counter and forgot I had just cleaned it. I’ll do it more tomorrow. 

“I hated this place as a kid. Grandpa always forced us to clean if we were staying with him and Duran tried to always beat me up for no reason. When I was old enough to get my own job, I was ready to leave it behind. Funny to think the kid likes it here. I guess since you’re basically his older sister, it’s probably a you and dad situation.” Jonas and his younger sister were forced to come help at the café since Mr. Flynn was getting older. Duran would always run off somewhere and I stayed and baked, so Mr. Flynn needed some others to do the dishes and lift heavy boxes. Jonas stayed because I stayed. The café work at least helped Jonas prepare for delivery work at Reeve’s. 

“I loved this place, still do, but you know that already. It wouldn’t be mine if I didn’t like it.” He rolled his eyes, knowing how much I stupidly fell in love with the bakery at one point. It was during secondary school when Mr. Flynn’s lessons of life actually go through to me. I was finally getting out of the Underground depression and having a purpose fueled me. The bakery was something I did every day, almost every hour, and sometimes neglected my school work to do it. I had finally found something that was mine and I wasn’t going to let any amount of slacking take it away from me. 

“Do you think you’ll stay here forever? I mean, like Grandpa did. Pass it on to your kids and what not.” I nodded, looking out at the hanging sign in a crack of the front window blind. 

“There’s nowhere else I want to really go. I have everything I need here in Trost and I can go visit the other districts when I want. Plus, we’ve already lost four places I can go, so it’s slim pickings for retail locations. If I somehow don’t end up having kids and Elias takes my offer, I’ll give it to him probably. ” He hummed in agreement and leaned back in his chair, tilting the front legs of the floor. This reminded me of when we were in school and Mr. Flynn would make us close up for him when he wanted to sleep early. We’d clean and then sit here talking for hours about anything. I’d force Jonas to help me with math homework and sometimes pay him to do it. After Jonas got a job, it would be just me closing. It’s been a long time since this ex-tradition has occurred, so it was mildly comforting. We sat like that for a while, just staring somewhere in the café, probably thinking about when we were young.

Mr. Flynn acted like he hated us, but I knew a day never went by when he didn’t smile down at us and was thankful we were there. Jonas, Duran, and I were a lot to handle sometimes, but it was just the joys of youth. I would pay to go back them, too. Just to be able to tell myself that I needed to remember times like this, because when I was older, it would all change. I would be alone in the café.

“You know, Dad wants us to get together. He said it’s the thing that makes the most sense.” I sighed. There goes the comforting feeling that we’d just developed. Goddamn it, if he didn’t have to mention that, I would have had a great night, even a drink or two to celebrate opening. Now, his attitude changed and he suddenly wanted to talk about feelings. Didn’t you just get broken up with?

Ben had even taken me aside after Wall Maria fell and mentioned to me what he thought was right. Humanity’s time seemed to be fleeting and it wouldn’t be fun to die without a family. I fended him off, not telling him that I was not alone and very much in a relationship, but he would still leave hints here and there. Today was one of those days talking about keeping the café in the family and remembering the times when little kids ran around the tables. He’d even start telling us stories of how him and Analee would take care of the café as it’s first employees and how they fell in love. He was hoping the same thing would happen to Jonas, and that’s why he was forcing him to work here now. That was probably the only thing Ben and Jonas agreed on. 

“He’s mentioned it to me a few times. I’ve always told him no, but I guess when he gets his mind set on something you can’t tell him to lay off of it.” I looked warily at Jonas, trying to gage where this conversation was going. Why does it always have to be around year-end when he tries to pull all of this stuff? Wasn’t he just crying about his girlfriend breaking up with him yesterday? Now he’s talking about how bad Ben wants us to get married? 

“You know what I think about it. If you gave me a chance then may-” I cut him off before he could dig himself into a deeper hole. How could I tell him he wasn’t the one for me without telling him about Levi? While Levi and I weren’t nearly as serious as our time together would allow, his letters have shown me no reason to think we’d be ending our relationship soon. I was busy with bread and the café, he was busy with training, and at the end of the day we would sit down and write letters to each other, looking out at the same moon over Trost. It wasn’t the best situation, but it wasn’t one that was so hard I’d give into Jonas’s easy way. 

“Jonas, you also know my opinion. You’re like my brother or my cousin. We were raised together and you look almost exactly like Ben. I don’t need to keep listing out reasons to hurt your feelings more.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. 

“I know, but it’s just… Actually, I don’t know what it is. Never being able to advance your relationship with someone you have feelings for? Always getting into relationships you know will end because you don’t really like the girl? Maybe, I’m just tired of doing that.” 

“You’ll find someone, Jonas. You just aren’t looking in the right places. What was the girl’s name? Nana? Nora? Whatever it was she was annoying and self-centered.” I laid back on the counter looking up at the ceiling. I wasn’t going to be able to cheer him up like this forever because it’s always at the expense of me not liking him. He makes me feel like all of these breakups are my fault.

“She wasn’t you.” There it is. The direction we were going to. 

“You need to stop thinking about me, Jonas. What do you need me to say or do so that you move on from me?” I put my arm over my eyes, trying to stop the headache that I knew was about to come soon. I guess he was holding this in for a few months since he was dating that girl. It started with an N, I know that for a fact.

“No clue, Ev, but when I find it, I’ll tell you. If knowing that you’re in love with the Captain of the Scouts doesn’t deter me, I don’t know what will.” My eyes snapped open. 

“If knowing what?!” What the hell does he know? There’s a very serious possibility that he was sneaking around and found the letters in my desk. Maybe he saw Erwin’s letter carrier handing me the envelope? It didn’t make sense that he would know from Levi and I’s actions because he was pretty cold to me when Jonas was around. We’d taken most of the precautions we needed to. It had to just be his hunch… but his hunch was right. 

“I heard you that one night when he was bandaging you. There was just… something didn’t sit right with me when I was leaving. I sat there outside of the café listening to you two for what felt like hours. That confirmed it for me, but I still can’t believe it until it comes out of your own mouth. I guess I’m not good enough for you, Eva, but how could you fall for a Scout? I didn’t think you were that stupid.” The anger enveloped me as he said that, but I knew what he was saying was from deep down inside. If he knew this long, his heart beat with anger at every and any mention of the Scouts. His unexplained hatred for their presence in the last few months now made sense. Every time he saw a Scout he was reminded that even though they die young, are never around, and go on suicide missions, I’d rather pick that over him.

Laying there on that counter with Jonas’s eyes on me… it made me uncomfortable. Every layer of privacy and secrecy was shed in front of him now knowing that he knew for that long. That means he must have noticed the letters. Noticed how I always cleaned Levi’s table twice and had peppermint tea stocked even when the café was closed. He might have even heard me crying at night over how much I just wanted to see Levi again when he’d crashed on my couch… and every time I did that, he wanted it to be him. 

I couldn’t deny our relationship and try to make him feel better about himself. He knew and had heard everything we had said to each other that night. I’d have to face this feeling head on and I didn’t want to. I just didn’t want to tell Jonas that it will never be him. It was better to have him in limbo and still have my friend then to break his heart completely and never see him again. Jonas was my first friend and is my best friend. He was there the first day I was above ground. He was there for me when Samias broke my heart. He knows almost everything about me, but here I was about to lose him over something I couldn’t control. I wasn’t going to give up Levi so that Jonas would feel better. 

That probably hurt him even more though; me lying to him about Levi. 

“How much are you going to hate me after I tell you everything?” I was hesitant to tell him anything. I know deep down he wanted to know all about Levi and I. He wanted to see where his shortcomings were and judge Levi’s actions and intent. He wanted to be able to reach deep down and find some string of hope in one of Levi’s downfalls. However, this emotion he’s had was pent up for months.

“I’m never going to hate you, Ev. That’s the problem.” I let the tears fall then and curled up into a ball on the counter top. This wasn’t the Jonas I liked talking to. This was the Jonas that made you feel every emotion he was going through too so that you gave him pity. You wanted to love Jonas because you didn’t want to see your best friend hurting like this. It was my fault that he was hurting and I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t do what he wanted me to.

I knew he was in pain when he didn’t move to comfort me like he usually does. Whenever I would cry, he would always be next to me, a soothing hand on my back. I would never shy away from it before, but looking at the situation now, I wish I would have created that distance. It was good that he didn’t do that because it would have made the situation worse. We just sat there and I tried to mute my cries with my arm. It wasn’t working. 

“One day he’s going to die, Eva. If he doesn’t leave you before that.” Now he was trying to hurt me directly. Maybe he thought if he broke me enough, I’d go to him and not Levi. 

I didn’t answer him as I was too busy choking on my tears. 

“He won’t marry you. He won’t give you kids. He can’t give you anything you want in the future if he knows someday he won’t have one.” I wanted to beg him to stop. He doesn’t think at night, when all I have are the thoughts to pull me out of loneliness, I don’t think about all of this? Will I be happy with just Levi or will I want more and he can’t provide that? Can I not be up to his standards? After Hange mentioned kids, I thought about how horrible it would be for them to live in a world like this. We’re fighting to stay alive and to eat, and their father would be gone for months on end. I didn’t want to think about the future and Jonas was forcing me to. All the negative emotions I tried to push back in these past months were coming to the surface with every word. 

“Does he really like you or are you there just to fulfill his fantasy of a relationship? What man leaves the woman he loves alone for six months?” I clenched my jaw hard. His words started to stab too deep.

“Shut up.” It was soft and muffled by the sounds of my tears, but he heard it. He was waiting for my response. He wanted to see if I agreed or not; to see if he broke me enough. 

“Eva, I know you know what I’m saying is the truth.  It’s best to stop this game of pretend before it’s too late.” 

Pretend. 

I pull my hands into fists and shot up on the counter. I was angry again now. He didn’t get to call my relationship a game. Whatever feelings of loneliness or sadness that Jonas wanted to make me feel had left instantly as he mentioned playing pretend. 

“You are the one who’s playing pretend! Pretending that I’ll come around and pick you. Jonas, if I wanted you, it wouldn’t have taken over ten years to realize it!” This time his face contorted into some type of negative emotion. His plan didn’t work. I didn’t cave like I normally do. 

“You’re pressuring me into something that I don’t want to do all because you don’t like that Levi makes you feel inferior. He’s stronger, smarter, and now he’s taken your girl from you. You know why? Look at this,” I gestured to him with both of my hands, “Levi has never talked to me at me like this. He would never call me stupid or try and insult me enough to change my mind. You’re right, I haven’t seen him for six months, but in that time he’s written more sincere words than you have ever said to me. I don’t care what Levi does and doesn’t give me, and I know you won’t be able to give me what I want either. Not like this!” I threw my left hand to my side and took the silence to catch my breath. 

“Eva.” It was angry and heavy. He wasn’t ready for me to come back at him like that. He never thought I could talk to him like he talks to me. 

“I have supported you through everything you have done. The countless girlfriends, the times when you were kicked out of your house, when you didn’t have a job; I was the one who comforted you and took you in. Now, I make a decision that hurts your feelings and you can’t live with it? You have to degrade me for who I choose to date, only because it’s not you?!” He stood up too, the chair flying back and hitting the floor. He stood almost a foot above me, but I wasn't backing down. 

“You will never understa-” 

“You’re right, Jonas. I will never love you the way that you love me, and I will never understand how you treat someone you love like this.”

It was tonight. I had always thought about when this would end. When Jonas and I would stop playing pretend. When I would stop pretending not to see how he looks at me across the café. When I would stop pretending that my best friend didn’t only have feelings for me and wouldn’t choose anyone else. When I would stop pretending I didn’t have to hurt him like this one day. Tonight was the night this friendship ended because he couldn’t pretend we were just friends anymore. 

“How long have you been with him?” The air had quieted and so did his voice. His face was now a mixture of anger and sadness, and he turned his eyes to look at the ground. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say when answering the question, but I was done hiding it from him. Even if it hurt him, he had to know. He had to stop playing pretend and be snapped into the reality he lived in. 

“Around Spring Equinox till now.” His fist clenched harder. 

“So you missed Spring Equinox with us to be with him?” I thought about this moment the day I didn’t show up. He never asked me where I was when he saw me and he must have assumed I just didn’t want to go out then. I’d even told Levi that I was going to be in a weird situation if Jonas asked me where I was and he helped me make a plan. A plan to lie to him. I guess that plan just flew out the window. 

“He was injured and I was taking care of him. I wasn’t going to leave him,” I let the last line out, underlaid with some remorse. I was angry with what he was saying and how he was coming at me, but I was at fault too. I should have told him sooner or at least tried to distance myself. 

“I don’t think I’m going to be in tomorrow, Eva.” He said, still not looking up at me. This was the softest he had even been. I think now he knew he couldn’t sway me towards him. He was giving up.

“Jonas-”

“No,” he held his hand up, finally looking at me with the faint gleam of tears in his eyes, “I’m going to be sick tomorrow and maybe the next day. So, don’t come looking for me.” He turned his back and I had to stop my hand from reaching out and touching his shoulder. I was angry at him, but unlike him I didn’t see this as a reason to end our friendship. It was coming, yes, but it didn’t have to end here. We’d change something. We’d adapt. He was acting like he’d completely given up that. 

“Jonas, you’re still my best friend.” He stopped at the door and straightened up. He was stiff and lifeless when he answered. It was fake and he was hiding his true emotion. If he turned around, what expression would I see on his face? 

“I know.” 

The door opened and closed, the bells ringing twice above it. With the windows closed, I couldn’t see if we walked away and I didn’t go up to the door in fear of him just sitting on the stoop. I didn’t want to hear his tears. Jonas rarely cried and I didn’t want to know that I was the person who did it to him. 

I turned to look at the clock at the back wall. It was nearly one. 

Anger. At him. At myself. Sadness. For him. For losing my best friend in some shape or form. Regret. For not telling him any sooner. But, if I told him, wouldn’t the situation still end up like this? He would yell at me, I would cry, and he would tell me how irrational it was to love someone like Levi. A fantasy he called it. It set the seed of doubt in my head. Levi hadn’t loved or liked before as far as I knew, not to the capacity we’ve set up. Was he really just using this as a test run? 

I put my towel down on the table and decided I didn’t want to be in the café anymore. I wanted to be in my bed, two blankets over me, thinking over and over again the conversation I had with Jonas. Where did I go wrong? When? I wouldn’t sleep tonight and I would be sluggish in the morning when Ben came. Ben was smart, too. He would probably connect the dots between Jonas’s absence and my attitude, but at least he never questioned. 

Walking up the back stairs, I tried to listen to see if Jonas was still there. Maybe something would pull me to go back to him and try to talk it out. I don’t think this issue can be talked over though. It was going to be the way it was. As of now, it was Levi and I, not Jonas and I. It would take Jonas months to turn around or feel like talking to me. It may not go back to normal. 

That thought stopped me on the last wooden step. What would I do if Jonas and I never went back to normal? He was a big part of my day and of my life. Every holiday, every arithmetic question I couldn’t answer, every broken heart; I was with him. It made so much sense to be with him permanently, but that’s not how life wanted it to be. If I was to be with Jonas, I was sure, it would have happened already. I would have feelings for him to the same degree he has for me. 

Maybe we shouldn’t go back to normal as that normal was fake. Pretend. Would it hurt Jonas more to act that way, knowing that Levi was one step ahead of him in every regard? Or, would it be better for him to keep distance and ignore me so he won’t have to deal with the pain he feels every time he’s around me now?

I shook my head and walked in. This was for me to think about, slightly drunk, and in two hours. 

“Here, for you.” Levi handed me a single flower as we sat in the meadow. He had found it on the ground next to where we were sitting and I laughed a little at the gesture before putting it on my ear. He looked at it too and smiled faintly, going back to look at the Scout HQ that was quite a distance away. No one would see us on our way back to Trost. 

I told Levi that I wanted to stop and sit since it was such a nice day. The spring was bringing warm winds to our area, and the whole time I had been with him we were inside his dimly lit office. We were far away enough from Trost and the HQ to be alone and outside. I thought of Jonas and the Equinox today. Where would he be sitting out here? 

“Thank you, Captain.” He laid back, still wincing a little at the pain in his ribs. The horse ride was a bit too much for him to handle, and we had to walk our horses out here to the open meadow. No doubt he would bear the pain to get me to the gates of Trost before we parted. Maybe I would convince him to walk so we had more time together. 

“After this expedition, I would like to start.” I looked over to him, putting a piece of the Scout’s cracker ration in my mouth. Did he have some hobby? 

“Start what?”

“Trying to be yours. I have no experience being in a relationship with someone, therefore, when I can give you my full attention, I will do that. I’ve never made you food. I will do that first.” It made my heart strangely warm, him always announcing his intentions. Maybe he felt that they needed to be approved. He was so apprehensive about anything, and he was not used to being wrong. In this uncharted territory, he needed to make sure he was right before he executed anything. So, I nodded. 

“I’m not picky when it comes to food.” Once he got his confirmation, he went to stand up. I just looked up at him as he did it. 

“Yes?” He put out his hand for me to take it. I just stared up at him again, smiling. I’d tease him a bit more because he was leaving soon. 

“So does that mean we’re really dating?” He rolled his eyes and his hand dropped. The nice gesture went away. 

“Did I not make it clear before? I said I required monogamy.” I shook my head, no.

“You have to ask me. You can’t just command me into a relationship with you.” He cocked up an eyebrow. 

“Ask? Why do I need to ask you when you already know?” I rolled my eyes at him and took another bite of the cracker. 

“We aren’t dating until you ask me to be your girlfriend.” He scoffed. 

“Girlfriend is a word for teenagers. We are almost thirty.” 

“Ask me.” 

“No.” 

“You have to.”

“No, I don’t.” I huffed and turned my head to the other side, faking anger. I knew he probably wasn’t going to do it anyways, and I didn’t really care, but it would be fun to hear. 

“Ask me or I’ll just sit here all day,” I said, folding my arms. There was no protest, or huff of annoyance. He was probably standing there with the same pose I had, just waiting for me to get this idea out of my head.

Huff. Huff. Huff. 

“Don’t tell me you-” I turned and screamed, scrambling to get away from what was to my right. It stood there, his body broken in it’s mouth. His eyes were stained with blood, and were looking at me, begging me to do something, anything. 

The titan crunched down once more on Levi’s body, and only a puff of air came out of his mouth. Not a cry for help. His body went limp, eyes wide staring into my soul. 

Help. Help. Help. 

I shot up, holding my head. My body was shaking and I was afraid to open my eyes. The bustle of customers could be heard below and I knew I had fallen asleep late in the morning and overslept till now. Ben would be holding the customers down fine, and I needed the extra minutes to calm myself down. 

Was that dream an omen? Was he dead? 

It left a bad taste in my mouth that I couldn’t shake, so I got up to get water. I needed to get this taste out of my mouth. Once I drank the water, I leaned over the sink and it came right back up. The shaking of my body stopped after I’d thrown up, but the feeling in my stomach was still there. Maybe I was just hungover. I had a whole bottle of wine while thinking my life away last night. Usually I was fine, but the emotions tied to the amount of alcohol I had could be making my stomach twist and turn. 

Setting the cup down, I quickly went to put on clothes and try to put something on my face to cover the dark circles. The clock was at ten, and I knew that soon Ben would hear my footsteps upstairs using his years of training his ears to identify the creaks of this building and yell up at me to come down. If Jonas really wasn’t here, he was having to remember how to make various coffee drinks himself. 

One day he’s going to die, Eva.

I help my stomach again, trying to position myself over the bathroom sink and not get the face powder all over the floor. When nothing came up, I tried to push that thought out of my mind and finish covering the dark circles under my eyes. To a trained eye, aka Ben, you could easily see through the layer of powder. Hopefully, it will last all work day so I won’t get comments on my tiredness. Those were my least favorite. 

“Eva!” It was muffled by the floorboards, but with one quick look in the mirror, I went to walk to the door. 

Does he really like you or are you there just to fulfill his fantasy of a relationship? 

Stopping on the stairs, I leaned over the railing, hoping that if I did vomit again, it would be away from a window so the customers didn’t notice a projectile falling from the sky. I’d have to get another drink of water before I started or else this hangover was going to kill me. 

I pushed the back door open, taking a look at the plastic one that separated me from the café. People were in there, sitting, talking, and buying pastries. I could hear them and it scared me. My first day open, and I’m in this condition? That wasn’t going to be the best look for business. I was also scared because this was the first customer rush I had in months. It was like my first day running the shop all over again. 

This time my stomach bubbled up with nerves and before I could turn back outside, Ben opened the door peeking in at me. He definitely saw the condition I was in, and had to take a double take. Now, the dots started to connect in his head. Did Jonas look like this to when Ben tried to wake him up only to discover he was “sick”? 

“There’s a line of people out here waiting to be served and to talk to you. I suggest you hurry out, yeah?” I just stared at him and nodded once, tying the matching apron around my middle. 

“Yeah.” Even my voice was shaking. He closed the door again and I picked up a random cup, filling it with water from the sink, and downing it in a few seconds. I coughed once, hoping it would help my throat, and despite my stomach, I walked out into the main café. 

“Eva!” 

“Miss Eva, it’s been so long!” The crowd of people at the counter greeted with smiles, and I did my best to give one back. It was comforting, their words, but my stomach still felt like shit. So did my head. And my arms. And legs. Either way, I willed myself to the crowd that was blocking my view into the café. Ben had done a good job curbing them because he didn’t know how to make a latte. 

“It’s a good thing you’re here, Eva. Ben’s a little rusty.” I smiled to the man who’s order I had memorized, but not his name, and took the personal cup he had in his hands. Ben tended the money while I turned my back to make the drinks. 

“I’ll pass, you make, pass back?” I turned over my shoulder to nod at him and this new angle made me catch a view of the table. The Wings of Freedom were draped over the chair and he was leaning back with the new addition of a book in his hand. There was no cup in front of him, nor was he staring out at the window anymore. 

Six months. 

My stomach churned again and before I could answer Ben, I had to run into the back, past the plastic door, open the regular door, and throw up in front of the trash can where the stray dogs like to eat our scraps.

I’d have to pass it off and I took another big gulp of water before picking up some random milk jug to bring it up. I hoped I didn’t wipe off the face powder that took ten minutes to apply. When I walked back in, people seemed shocked I had run so fast into the back, but once they saw the milk jug, they settled back down. Ben didn’t let it get past him that I’d set the new milk jug next to a completely full one on the table and went to work. 

We went back and forth for what felt like hours. He’d collect the money, write the order on a piece of paper, I’d make it, and he’d go set it down on their table or give it for them to go. We didn’t talk at all while I did it, and I only engaged with other customers. When I looked at him, he never looked back, just down at the book. When I looked at him… my stomach churned, but with a different feeling now that I was pretty sure all the alcohol was in my sink or by the trash in the back. I wanted him to look at me, or to come hug me, but he was Captain Levi right now. 

My dream. What was my dream about? He was here and he was alive, so it couldn’t have been an omen. Was it triggered by my fight with Jonas? Levi dying? It was a simple memory, but it had morphed into something graphic and depressing. He’d asked me to be his girlfriend, reluctantly, but why didn’t my dream get to that part? Why did it cut it off there? I just tried to mock it up as another drunken dream, ones I used to have often, and maybe a few times in the past months, but something wouldn’t let me mark it as that. 

“Eva!” I turned at the little boy’s call and saw all three of them at the counter. I was zoning out so much. Elias, June, and their father were there and I smiled at them, starting their orders. Elias and June: steamed apple juice. Their father: a cup of coffee, no cream, two sugars. 

“Where’s the boy? I thought Jonas said he was working today.” I froze up at their father’s question and I saw Ben glance back at me before answering.

“He felt really sick this morning and could barely get out of bed when I tried to wake him up. He slept at our house last night and came back really late, so he might have been out and drank himself sick,” he tsk-ed his son, but I knew that his message was really meant for me, “Dark circles, a bad attitude, and his face was all red. I’m glad he didn’t show up today.” I turned to them, handing the two steamed apple juices. Before I could turn back around, they started a conversation with me. I could barely focus on it with Ben’s gaze boring holes into me. 

“Eva, Mr. Chapel said I could start on my own books now! Isn’t that exciting?!” I smiled down at her and nodded. In the place in my brain that could still process a little emotion this afternoon, I was happy for her. 

“That’s amazing, June. I have some books upstairs that need to be rebound.” Ben had given their father his coffee and he was now pulling the kids to go. He probably had some cult stuff to do and just wanted to stop by for his morning cup like he normally does.

“Eva, do you need help on year-end? Like last year? With Jonas?” Elias’s face begged up at me to say yes. He wanted to know if we would do something like last year. With no festival, it would be hard to entertain them… and with no Jonas… 

“I don’t know about it his year, Elias.” His face dropped and he was pulled away by his father before he could ask why. I saw June looking disappointed as well as they walked out the door. When Ben turned to greet the next customer, I felt another pair of eyes on me. I looked up at him and felt my heart flip as we locked eyes. His were filled with concern and I knew he’d heard the exchange Elias and I just had. I had always taken the kids in for year-end, so why not now? 

The day went like that. My stomach never settled down, and I could barely keep up the energy of the people coming in and out to talk. Ben would mostly fill that job, but whenever the customer wanted to talk to me directly, I stared at the back wall, mustering a smile, and turned to act. I was glad that I’d decided to close earlier than usual so I wouldn’t have to go through a dinner rush either. My mind was tired from thinking over and over again about last night and the dream I had, that I could barely handle any more stimulus. 

Levi had sat there all day, reading through the book at least twice. I could feel his eyes on me throughout the day, but if I looked back into his eyes, my dream would play over again and my stomach would fight with me. He must have noticed, but he never approached me. Ben and the wave of people coming in and out must have stopped him, or he was waiting for me to go over and serve him tea. It was sitting right on top of the coffee filter box, ready to be made, but I could never pull myself to do it. I wanted to go over and talk to him, but with the amount of people here, I would be talking to Captain Levi. I decided to wait until close, knowing he would stay, so I could talk to the real him after months of waiting. The dream made my stomach feel awful, but the idea of having Levi back to me again made the butterflies stir too. 

“Alright, what’s up with the two of you?” Ben put the small bag of flour back up on the stock rack as I mopped the flour on the back room’s floor. It was closing, and I insisted that he could leave the cleaning to me, but I knew from the second I walked in to the café, he was ready to corner me and ask questions. I still feigned innocence.

“Two of whom?” He huffed and wiped off excess flour on the apron I left him. It didn’t help my case that I couldn’t look him in the eyes when I answered. I didn’t want to stare into Jonas’s eyes. 

“Jonas comes to our house drunk, red face, and mumbling things under his breath. He almost broke Analee’s favorite vase trying to take his shoes off. I thought it was a bit weird because he’d have to come back from your place, but maybe you two decided to do something. I didn’t care. Then, I drag his dead body weight onto the couch and he tells me he can’t come to the café tomorrow and starts crying. I mark it up to him being drunk off his ass. Come today, and you’re not up early like you usually are. I guess I thought you’d be as drunk as Jonas, and gave you a few hours. You come down here, looking pale as a ghost, go throw up outside by the trash can,” He pointed his thumb to the back door, “and anytime someone mentions Jonas, your face goes pale over and over again. You probably drank at least thirty glasses of water today… I really don't want you to answer this question, but I have to ask it. He’s my son, sure, but you’re also my little sister… also weird to say, but you know what I’m trying to get to…” Ben didn’t want to have to finish his statement and trailed off, trying to get me to fill in the blank. Did he think we… ? I pulled my face into a look of disgust, but still didn’t look at his face. 

“Are you trying to ask if he and I had-” He frantically waved his hands at me.

“Please, please, please. Spare me. I realized I don’t want the answer to that question anymore right as it came out of you mou-” I stopped him there. 

“We fought. That’s what happened.” He dropped his hands and let out a big sigh of relief. He was happy we only fought, because he could deal with that. He’d been dealing with that for years already. Mediator Ben was about to come out. 

“Thank gods. What did you fight about this time? Both of you look very upset.” He leaned against a random table, and I had stopped sweeping at this point. I didn’t want to tell Ben, but there was just something about him that made the words flow out. He’s always been like that, regardless of the situation. Comfortable to talk to about any and everything. When I first got my monthly cycle, I went to him and not Catrin, who was the obvious choice. Then later in life, Jonas started to take the same position in my life that Ben had. That made me feel worse again, losing him over something I had to be selfish with. If Jonas felt he couldn’t let go of whatever it was, I would permanently lose him. 

“I think this is the final time, Ben.” He sighed, probably not knowing what that meant. If I told him what the fight was really about, he would have to learn about Levi and I. I shifted my gaze to the plastic door separating us from the main café. Was he still sitting in his chair, waiting for us to kick him out? Waiting for me to lead him up the stairs to my apartment? 

“Did he bring up marriage again? When we were walking to meet up with you, I had mentioned something about it and he seemed to get quiet. Usually, he denies anything like that would happen.” So it was mentioned previously, that’s why it was on his mind. When Ben mentioned it to him, did his mind go to Levi and I?

“Yes,” I whispered, and set the mop against the wall. I was ready to spill all of my feelings to Ben like I always do. 

“Then, is it that man out there?” He pointed at the door and this time I looked him in the eyes. It was like admitting everything to Jonas all over again and it made my stomach twist and turn. I knew Ben’s opinions on the matter, too, so it was worse having to go against his wishes. 

“Yes,” I whispered again, waiting to see a streak of disappointment in his eyes that never came. He just sighed again and walked over to me, putting a hand on my back. 

“He was the first customer today and seemed annoyed that I was standing there instead of you. I was the one who gave him the book. I told him he’d have to wait a few hours to see you, and then another few to get to talk to you after lunch. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t see the way he kept looking at you either.” I clasped my hands together, looking at them. It made me a little less sad that he could see Levi’s emotions as well. Ben didn’t think it was fake like Jonas did. 

“I had a bad dream last night, too… and a few too many drinks. I’m just so… I don’t want to lose Jonas. This felt like it was it, Ben.” I put a hand over my heart and rubbed my collar bone with one finger. Ben shook his head ‘no’ and patted my back. 

“The kid can be moody, but he’ll come around. It may take him a bit longer than usual, but you two are best friends. He’ll just have to deal with the fact that it’s going to really stay like that now. I guess I didn’t help either, talking about you two the way I did.” I shook my head, making sure Ben didn’t take the blame away from me. 

“No, I did this. I didn’t tell him about… I didn’t distance myself from him and-” 

“Do you really think that if you tried to distance yourself from Jo, it would’ve worked? He once came home from secondary begging me to ask the teacher to transfer him to your class. He can’t be away from you for too long, no matter what emotions he has tied to it.” I laughed once at that comment, remembering the day Jonas randomly showed up at a desk next to mine. I reached up to wipe a tear off of my cheek. 

“I still feel awful. It’s my fault I made him feel like this.” Ben rolled his eyes. 

“I’m going to go home and he’s going to have this same conversation with me. You both fight like cats and dogs, and then feel bad that you said anything in the first place. He could have broken your arm and you’d still feel like it was your fault.”

“Yeah.” Ben did make me feel a little better, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling of regret. We sat for a few more minutes as I calmed down and my stomach hurt a little less. 

“Now, that boy out there. He’s the Captain of the Scouts, but I have to threaten him. I know he’s still sitting out there, if you just let me-” 

“Ben.”

“I’m serious. I was close to going over and telling him to stop looking at you. It’s annoying. Like that one kid you dated in the past.” It was my turn to roll my eyes at him. 

“Ben, I’m twenty seven.” Before I could protest more, he lunged at the door to open it. 

“Hey, you.” I quickly raced out of the back room, watching Ben walk his way over to Levi who had grabbed a rag and was cleaning the tops of the tables. 

“Ben-” Levi turned to give me a confused look as to why the giant man was walking towards him. They’ve probably only spoken two sentences to each other and now Levi was going to get reprimanded by Ben. 

“You’re dating my sister, correct?” Levi’s eyes widened a little bit, not expecting Ben to come right out with it. He probably also didn’t expect Ben to know anything, but with how obvious Levi had acted today, it wasn’t a surprise. Ben picked up on things probably to the same degree Levi did. 

“U-u-uh, we are?” He did the same thing I’d done to Erwin, and when he looked over at me again, confusion painting his face, I just nodded once, “Y-yes. We are…” A faint tint of blush painted his pale face. Mine was probably the same way. This was the first time he had admitted that out loud to someone from my world. 

“If you hurt her, I’ll beat you up. Her last boyfriend, he couldn’t walk for two days after Jonas and I jumped him.” He pointed his finger at Levi who didn’t seem that concerned about the threat. Ben was also lying, because he wouldn’t lay a hand on anyone. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ben swat at a fly, let alone a human. 

“My intentions are not to hurt her.” Ben took off his apron and slammed it down on the table Levi had just finished cleaning. Flour dust went everywhere. This was quite the show he was putting on. Levi, however, didn’t know he was playing with him. He was trying to keep his face as neutral as possible, because he didn’t want to, in some way, offend Ben and make him angrier, but he was also getting annoyed with the man’s display. If Ben was to come at him, would he be permitted to slam him on the ground, or would that just make this whole situation worse? Levi didn’t want to beat up my brother, which was nice. 

“What are your intentions then?” Levi was not going to like expressing his feelings aloud to a stranger, so I saved him from Ben who I knew was trying his hardest not to laugh. 

“Ben, just let him go. I have to clean more and you’re keeping me from dinner.” I think Ben was also glad I gave him an out because I heard that Analee was making porridge for dinner and that was Ben’s favorite. 

Ben walked a bit forward, using his height to tower over Levi. This time, Levi’s face hardened. If I did get Ben away from Levi, Ben might end up on the ground. 

“Next time, Captain.” Ben retreated back and grabbed his jacket, turning to me with a smile. 

“Have a nice night, Ev! I assume I won’t need to come tomorrow?” He glanced over at Levi who was now extremely confused at Ben’s 180 degree flip. 

“No, I think I can handle myself tomorrow. Thanks Ben!” He raised his hand up and waved once, exiting the café. There was a moment of silence as the ringing of the door bells finally stopped and Levi turned to me, that expression still on his face. 

“W-wha..?” I smiled at the door, not disregarding the butterflies that came to my stomach now that I was finally alone with Levi for the first time in six months. 

“That’s Ben, my brother.” His face dropped to his regular look and nodded. 

“I can tell.” I huffed and grabbed Ben’s apron, hanging it up behind the counter. I decided to clean the counter and wait to see what Levi was going to do. Heaven knew I wanted to run up into his arms, but again, the vow I took held me back. 

To my surprise, he moved to behind the counter after cleaning the flour from the last table. He put the rag down on the back table and stood there, staring at me for a bit. I just disregarded his stare and kept cleaning the counter and glass case which was ridden with Ben’s handprints from the amount of times he leaned on it. 

“I’m going to hug you.” I left out a huff of laughter and didn’t move, signaling that he could do what he wanted. 

“I told you, you don’t have to say it alo-” His arms went around my waist, chest touching my back, and his head nuzzled into my neck. I also melted right there and then. Who taught him how to hug like this? I used my free hand to reach up and play with his hair, leaning my cheek onto the top of his head. 

“Hi,” I said, breathing in his scent. It’s been so long, the shirt he gave me had lost its smell, so it was nice to have it back. It was also nice that he had given me such an intimate display of affection after how long he’d been away. It told me that he missed me as much as his letters would insinuate. Maybe even equal as much as I missed him. 

He lifted himself up, leaving one arm wrapped around my waist. 

“I thought I’d personally deliver this letter to you,” he handed me the envelope with my name written on it. 

“Do you come with the letter?” I turned to face him and blushed at our closeness. He looked down at me slightly, examining my face. I’d cried the face powder off in the back, so my dark circles were at full force.

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself again.” It was low and had a tinge of disappointment in it. I looked up at him, examining his face. Tired. Large dark circles. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I could still yell at him for it. 

“I can say the same for you, Captain.” I reached up and put my hand on his cheek like the last night we had together. I figured that wouldn’t be off limits and I felt his face heat up a little before pulling back to lean against the back table across from me. He had hit his daily cap for affection and needed to cool off. 

“Erwin gave me the rest of the month off. So, I guessed that the best place to stay was here. He also told me to go see you after my work was done, and then proceeded to give me one more month’s worth of work.” He crossed his arms, his face pulling into one of annoyance for Erwin’s actions. 

“I did ask him to give you more breaks, but he didn’t promise me anything.” His eyes narrowed at the mention of our meeting. 

“Don’t think you three can keep it a secret about what you talked about. I told them I’d get you to tell me.” I smirked back up at him. 

“They aren’t telling you what we said?” 

“No details. I just know they asked you about us and to support the Scouts, and you accepted. I know that they left out everything important and Hange always laughs when I try to get her to tell me.” I guess I’d have to keep up this secret promise with Hange and Erwin. 

“Well, if they aren’t telling you, then I guess I can’t either, Levi. It was a confidential meeting, you know how that goes.” He shot off the table, pushing my stomach into the one I was cleaning. His arms were on either side of me, trapping me against the wood. My heart beat shot up at this sudden, aggressive touch, and I almost jumped as I felt his breath on the right side on my neck. This was the first time he had done something like this. Intimidating, aggressive, and very exciting. My heart wasn’t the only thing that fluttered when he whispered into my ear. 

“I have ways of getting you to tell me, Eva.” He lingered there for a few moments before pushing away and going back to rest on the table. I had to take at least ten breaths to calm myself down, and my face was still definitely the color of a cherry. That was the first time Levi had done something so… hot. One moment, he was pushing back because he was getting uncomfortable with the affection, and another he was shoving me up against the counter, making my brain race a million miles a second with the things I was imagining. The ways to get me to talk. Levi wasn’t like that was he? Did he have experience with that? He did live in the Underground and was extremely good looking, I’m sure he had girls at his feet at some point. It made me curious about his life in the Underground again… and what or who he did there. 

“I-I’m… done cleaning. We can go up to the up, upstairs.” He didn’t even hesitate and slung his cape around his shoulders, following me to the front to lock the café. 

We walked upstairs without saying anything, Levi walking a few steps behind me. He had retrieved a bag from the side of the alleyway and my eyes widened. I didn’t think he’d be staying here the whole rest of the month. That was almost three weeks. I remembered how dirty I had left it this morning and the empty bottle of wine next to my bed. 

Once we got inside, he set his bag on the couch and took off his boots and cape, hanging it up. I was a bit upset he didn’t take off the ODM gear straps, because now that he had done that little act downstairs, my mind was thinking about them. I had felt the buckle of the one on his chest dig into my back ever so lightly. 

“Did you really forget what I looked like? Stop staring at me.” He mumbled it, but it made me blush a bit and stare at the ground. Did he know what I was thinking about him? How did he get so bold in the last few minutes? 

“Can I shower? The ride here was long, and I sat in the back of the cart on some dirty hay.” 

“O-oh. Yes, you can. It’s that door right there, but you knew that already didn’t you. Sorry.” He smiled and laughed once, digging through his bag for his shower supplies. I just watched him as he did it, staring at the mundane task and letting my mind run wild. I don’t think he’s ever taken a shower here before. 

Without saying anything else, he walked into the bathroom and closed the door. I instantly let out a breath of frustration, but the room did cool down after he left. 

“He’s bold when being like that, but he’s still afraid of sleeping next to me?” I shook those thoughts out of my head and blinked when the bathroom door opened a little bit, the light shining through my dark apartment. 

“I forgot soap for my body, do you have any?” He yelled out. 

“Uh, there should be some in the cabinet below the sink. It’s Jonas’s.” I heard the cabinet open, along with a little grumble about ‘Why is he in your shower?’ before I heard them close again. 

“I don’t see it.” I did not want to go into that tiny bathroom and show him, but I knew that’s where this was going to end if I sent him on a hunt. I’d just let him use mine. 

“There’s a bottle in the shower. It’s glass and has pink liquid in it? You can use mine. I hope you don’t mind rose.” I heard the shower curtain rip back and a tiny laugh. 

“There’s about twelve bottles with pink liquid in them, Eva.” That was simply false. All of my shampoos, conditioners, and soaps were different colors. He wanted me to come in there and show him. I started walking slowly to the door. 

“It should be on the second shelf.” 

“Just come here and show me, I don’t have the patience.” There it was, and I was already halfway to the bathroom anyways. Ignoring my heart, I opened the door. 

“It should be in…” My eyes widened as he leaned against the sink, giving me access to walk to the shower as the room was only meant for one person at a time. My eyes widened as he leaned against the sink shirtless. I instantly flushed and something churned in the pit of my stomach. I glanced for one more second, and pushed on after seeing his smirk. I shoved myself up against the other wall, so there was no way for me to touch him as I walked past to the open shower. There the soap was and it was even labeled. I gripped hard around the bottle, turning to shove it into his hands. I tried so, so hard to only look at his face. When I glanced down at his chest again and back up, his smirk got deeper. It made me angry, but it also made me want to look even more. 

His body was completely toned and looked like it had no ounce fat on it. He was completely lean like I predicted in our last encounter in a bathroom. Every single possible muscle was defined in a sleek way that was easy for him to hide this… this Adonis of a figure beneath a regular shirt. His waist was probably smaller than mine and shoulders broad from carrying the heavy ODM gear on them for years, but I didn’t try to get another look at it as I walked past him, pressing up against the wall again. 

“I told you I’d let you see it when I got back,” he said jokingly as he set the bottle down on the sink. My face was burning and I didn’t dare turn around to look at him again as much as I wanted to. I had a free pass to look at him all I wanted if I took it, but I was too embarrassed right now. This combined with what happened downstairs wanted to make me scream. How long had he thought of doing this? The first time he’s seen me in six months and this is what he planned. 

“I-I’ll make food!” I half yelled, getting out of the small bathroom that was heating up to a hundred degrees. I could hear him laugh a little bit before closing the door behind me. The air outside was so much cooler, it gave me goosebumps and I stood out there for a bit, waiting to hear the shower turn on. When it did, I went to the kitchen and instantly sat in front of the open ice box trying to cool down my face. 

“Why are you like this, Eva? It’s not like you haven’t seen a shirtless man before. You’ve seen more than one and you’re never like this.” I hit my cheeks over and over again, trying to get them to cool down. No man I’ve been with before could go from sulky and hesitant one minute to making a heat pool in the depths of my stomach in thirty seconds. 

The shower stopped and I closed the fridge quickly, taking out eggs to act like I was using them. I had no clue what I was going to make to eat and I’d spent ten minutes staring at an open fridge. 

When he walked out, I almost broke the egg in my hand. He walked over to his bag on the couch, searching for clothes. The heat that I’d gotten rid of came back, and I finally turned away from the indecent sight. Just a towel?! 

“Sorry, I forgot to grab another pair of clothes.”

Chapter Twelve →

Chapter Masterlist

[writingsbychlo]

starry night | chris beck

word count; 9241

summary; chris beck delivers flowers to you five times.

notes; this was originally called ‘candy cane lane’, but I changed it up a little.

warnings; none!

When Chris had started working in a flower shop, it was to pay his way through college. He was getting a degree in medicine and it wasn't cheap, and he needed a simple and easy way to make cash that wouldn't take too much out of him. He wasn’t big on anything social, and so working in a bar or restaurant didn’t seem like the best fit, and unfortunately for him, all the library jobs had been snapped up at the beginning of the year. Supermarkets were a no go, he hated the people that came through and how rude some of them could be, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to get a job in a coffee shop.

Working those machines might as well be rocket science.

The little flower store on the end of his campus road had been hiring, and eventually, he’d become desperate. It wasn’t his usual gig, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, to begin with, but it offered decent money, reasonably flexible hours, and the boss actually let him study on shift when it was quiet, and so it actually gave him more free time than he had before getting a job.

Then, he’d started to warm up to it. It was always cool in the summer and warmer in the winter, keeping it temperate for the plants, and it always smelt good. He made friends with a man named Mark who came in every so often to buy new plants to study, he was becoming a botanist, and they bonded over the serene quietness of flower shops for studying and bad jokes.

Little old ladies pinched his cheeks, the tips were good, and it helped him clear his thoughts to be able to do menial tasks like spray the flowers with water every other hour to keep them wet enough, and to sit behind the cash registers. It was a simple Christmas present from said botanist friend that really inspired his passion, though. More of a gag gift, he was sure that was its intention, but he’d started to take it seriously. Chapter after chapter on the meanings of flowers, how to send hidden messages through plants, and something about the way of communicating in ways other than words had spoken to him.

After that, he’d been able to offer a service of sending messages through flowers. He’d become a more popular salesperson, and he’s shifts had increased, and he loved doing it. He loved the physical way that a message could be conveyed, beautiful explosions of colour to mean ‘I love you’ or ‘Happy Anniversary’, and so he’d started to invest his time in that. Nobody had been all that surprised when the older man who ran the shop had left it to him when he passed, not even Chris himself, and so he’d finished up his degree and started working at the flower shop full time.

Mark had taken on a part-time job there, as well as his internship in a clinical research lab, and they’d hired an extra hand at the register. It made him happy.

Less so, when he had an influx of orders overnight, and instead had to focus on building bouquets to be shipped instead of the garden expansion he was making, but happy nonetheless.

He was twenty-seven custom orders in, Mark already out running the standard bouquets for delivery, and he was stacking them by the garage door, wrapped in ribs and pretty vase-boxes, all ready to go. Licking the tip of his finger to flick the paper over, he let out a sigh, two sets of flowers on one page, his rows raising. It wasn’t unusual for there to be multiple sets on one order form, but as his eyes scanned over the list of preferences, scents and colours, as well as the messages they were wishing to convey, one of his brows rose up.

One request for the pretty set of pink roses and lilies that he’d loving crafted himself, a collection of flowers that signified an apology, and he was always happy to offer advice to any guys who came into the store to buy that set. It was usually a guy fresh to a relationship, messed something up by refusing to unfollow another girl on Instagram, or just saying the wrong thing in front of his friends, introducing a girl as his friend, that one always made him giggle. The second was curious, though, and it made his lips quirk up in a slight smirk at the insinuation of it. Red roses and tulips, a darker and more seductive bunch; new beginnings and early love, and he was willing to place his last dollar on it being an affair.

It felt even more sure when he noticed that the delivery address was that of an office block, and not a home address, a man’s name instead of a woman’s. In the personal notes section, there were no names, and so that was an option ruled out for getting to the bottom of the situation, but he wrote out gift cards, one with swirling writing for a heartfelt apology and the other with a sickly-sweet pick-up line and what he assumed to be an inside joke.

Curled ribbons and plastic wrapping, and the two bouquet were standing side by side for delivery, the van chugging as it was pulled back into the driveway, reversed up, and his blond-haired friend rounding the vehicle, looking utterly worn out, and it was only halfway through the day.

“You’d think it was Valentine’s Day, or something. This is crazy, it’s November!”

He took off his cap, running a hand over his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp, before placing the embroidered garment with the company logo back onto his head. “I’ve got something that’ll cheer you up!”

“Oh, yeah? Is it the rest of the day off?”

“Uh, no.” He deadpanned, his friend laughing as he came to stand by him, and he motioned towards the collection. “However, it is a rather exciting combination. These two-” He tapped at the boxes holding them firm at the base. “-are going to the same place.”

“And that is exciting why, exactly?”

“Because one is supposed to symbolise asking for forgiveness and all that, and the other symbolises new love and beginnings and all that. They’re being delivered to an office block, not a home address.” It took Mark a minute to process it, and Chris watched the gears turn in his friend’s head, before his jaw was dropping, and he let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Oh, and you think it’s a.. y’know.” He only nodded, and he began to load up the other orders into the van, a printout sheet of new addresses and order numbers on the tags, the delivery sheets loaded onto a clipboard to be signed for at each location. The empty van was once again teeming with bright flowers and artfully arranged bundles. Securing them all down and making sure they wouldn't tip over or get crushed during the ride there, he was confident they were ready to go, almost all of them set up, before he was staring at the two he’d recently made once again, his curiosity getting the better of him. “You want me to try and find out while I’m there?”

He almost agreed, it would have been so easy, a simple way to put his questions to rest, but he was invested in it now, and so he already knew what was coming. “No, I’ll deliver these ones myself.

Mark only nodded, slamming and locking the back of the van doors, double-checking the hatches for fresh air were open to stop them from wilting in transit, and then he was back up into the main cabin. The loud sounds of disco music exploding from the van radio as he started it back up, reversing from the driveway and setting off on his next round of deliveries.

Scooping up the first set in his arms, Chris patted down his pockets in search for his keys, finding them in his left side back pocket, unlocking his car with a click of a button, and setting the first batch on the passenger seat. The second soon followed, and he used the seatbelt to secure them in place, rolling the windows down as he set off, programming the address into his SatNav.

It was a short drive, twenty minutes maximum, even with traffic, the tall and shining office building one that he was vaguely familiar with towards the inside of the city, harsh rays of winter sun reflecting off of clean glass windows, all the way up to the top floor, and it was so tall that as he stared at it, he swore the building was swaying. With a bouquet in each arm and the clipboard tucked under one, he backed his way through the polished glass doors, a company insignia printed onto the glass, and he almost wanted to check his shoes for traces of at the appearance of the clean white lobby.

Large tiles of marble flooring, specks of grey flickering throughout them, and white leather couches along some of the walls on one side of the lobby, a waiting room. The other had various coffee and tea machines, recyclable cups and sugar packets, as well as a range of fruits and muffins, and he wanted to scoff a little at the ostentatious nature of it all. The desk was empty as he finally approached, though he could hear chatter in the background, behind reflective glass panels that he couldn’t see through, one-way glass he assumed, and as he balanced the bouquets up on the counter, an older woman, approaching her fifties he presumed, came out, a wide smile on her face as she brushed down the material of her skirt.

“My, my, aren’t those beautiful? Unfortunately, I don’t think they’re for me.”

“Well, ma’am, unless you’re a ‘Mr Robert McKinley’, I’d have to agree.” She chuckled, nodding her head as she looked at them before picking up the phone, and typing in an extension. Lifting it to her ear, she balanced it there against her shoulder, smiling at him once again.

“I’ll just have his assistant come down to collect them and sign for them for you, lovely.” He nodded his head, turning away to be polite as she chatted away on the phone for only a moment, confirming that there was a package to be sorted out, and he twisted back to look at her as she put the phone down. Manicured nails tapped at the desk for only as second, an awkward silence forming, and one of the elevators let out a small ‘dinging’ sound as it was clicked into use, the numbers on the screen above the floor counting down, coming all the way from the twenty-eighth floor. “Would you like a candy?”

He jumped a little, turning back to look at the woman who had now sat down a little distance from him, behind the computer at the desk, and she turned to him, raising up a bowl of neatly wrapped candies, and placing it up on the glass counter for him to reach. He didn’t, but she was staring at him expectantly, and so he plucked the first one from the bowl, offering her a simple nod of his head, and tucking it into the pocket on his shirt.

When a chime sounded throughout the lobby, the sound echoing off of every hard surface, Chris’ attention was drawn to the clicking of heels on the smooth stone flooring. A pretty blouse that looked like it cost more than his entire outfit and a fitted pencil skirt that was sitting just below your knees, your were a professional vision. Except, your hair was a little messy, and there was a wide grin on your face as you typed rapidly on your phone, not even needing to look up to do the walk, but your expression made you look much more approachable than the usual businesswoman.

You clicked off your phone only a few feet away from him, looking up as your gaze went straight to the flowers at his side instead of him, but it gave Chris the chance to take you in just for a moment, and fully observe you, Up close, you were even prettier, soft skin and pretty hair that shined under the lights, and whatever the shade of lipstick was that you were wearing was perfect, because it suited you like it had been made for you.

You reached out, straight past him for a second, and the receptionist gasped, reaching for the bowl of candy, but you were quicker, your hand scooping up a little collection of the sweets and pulling them back, a sound of victory sounding from you, and she mumbled under her breath playfully, rolling her eyes and threatening to start hiding the treats before she ran out, but you only chuckled, unwrapping one and placing it against your tongue, lips brushing your fingers as you turned to him, and he forced his eyes away from your mouth, a blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, wow. Check these out.” You turned to the receptionist, motioning to them, and she only nodded her head, the sounds of a printer firing up in the back room, and she disappeared to collect the sheets, leaving the pair of you alone. “For Mr McKinley?”

You leaned over the counter, snatching up a pen from the other side, and he only nodded, producing the collection sheet, and pointing out the spot that needed singing, the scraping of the pen on paper filling the silence as you signed in both boxes, handing it back to him and tucking the pen behind your ear. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Fire away.” You grinned, unwrapping another candy, leaving the wrapper on the glass alongside the other one, a cheeky move he was sure you’d get reprimanded for by the receptionist who kept a beautifully organised and clean desk and foyer.

“There are two bouquets here, both with flowers that have very different meanings. Can I ask why?”

You hummed, staring at him for a minute as you chewed slowly, before swallowing the sweet in your mouth and smirking slightly. “I’ll answer your question, but only if you answer mine first; what do the flowers mean?”

Chris grinned, unable to hold it in, because he loved getting to talk about his passions, especially when he could show off a little in front of a pretty lady, and he nodded his head. “Pink roses and lilies are an apology, but red roses with tulips are for new love.”

“And do you have any theories?”

“Just the one, but I’m waiting for it to be confirmed.” He chuckled a little at the devious look that flashed over your features as you pulled the red roses bundle toward you, nose pressed into them for a second as you inhaled deeply, a little sigh leaving you afterwards.

“I’m trusting you here, but you’re cute, so I’ll tell you.” Heat rushed to his cheeks, head ducking for just a second, before he was looking back up to catch your gaze, brows raised as he waited excitedly, leaning in to meet you as though a scandalous secret was about to be told, and he supposed that’s exactly what it was. “There’s another receptionist, and intern back in there, fresh out of college, just a year below me, and he’s definitely fucking her.” You tapped a finger against the red roses, before your gaze was flicking to the second bunch, still by his arm as he leaned on the counter. “However, a couple of days ago he had a lunch date scheduled with his wife, and he missed it. I couldn’t find him anywhere, and I couldn’t find the intern either. Not hard to connect the dots.”

“Oh, so he’s covering both of his bases?”

“For sure.” You grinned, backing up a little bit to grab the second bundle, and adjusting them in your arms for balance. “Angie had probably realised too, and dashed in there to tell the girl that she’s got flowers coming.”

You were making your way over to the elevators, and he followed after you, pressing the button to summon the lift, and it hummed to life behind closed metal doors. “You know, since we just became partners in crime, maybe I should get to know your name?”

“Well, that was smooth.” You laughed, the doors opening up, and you stepped inside, placing one bouquet on the floor at your feet and holding onto the other. You caved, giving him your name as he placed his hand over the door to stop them from closing, ad he repeated the name to you, testing it on his tongue as he learnt it. He gave you his own in return when he asked, and when you said it back, his smile widened, already liking the way his name sounded coming for you.

You typed a code into the pad on the wall of the elevator, the screen flashing green as your programming was accepted, and he stepped back, grinning as you waved your fingers at him, the doors closing as you disappeared from view. He snatched up his clipboard on the way out, unable to contain the smile on his face.

Chris Beck hated making deliveries, but this one hadn't been so bad.

There was a genuine smile on his face as he stepped through the glass doors of the lobby, smaller and simpler bouquets this time, both matching and nothing special, but he’d tasked himself with delivering them personally because he’d recognised the name and address immediately, his encounter with the cute assistant he’d met only two weeks prior flashing through his mind as he’d insisted on delivering this order himself, Mark smirking and helping him gather the flowers as soon as he’d spilled all about you.

Now, he had two sets of pretty pink flowers in different shades, and a single red rose in a sleek plastic wrapping, all wraith ribbons wrapped around them were bundled in one arm, the other holding onto his clipboard, and the desk was once again empty as he approached. A bell, sleek and shining silver, and it was a new addition, definitely not present last time, and he eyes it suspiciously for a moment, before pressing a finger against the top lightly, just twice, a little ringing sounding out around the lobby.

A head of curly hair popped out from around the glass, much younger than the previous assistant, and wearing a much tighter skirt, and she grinned widely as she stepped forwards. He couldn’t deny that she was beautiful, fiery red hair and a wide smile, lips painted with red lipstick, and she seemed sweet, but far too intimidating for him to ever consider. Her heels were so tall that he wondered how she even walked in them, long and thin points creating the stilettos.

“Flowers?”

There was an eager tone to her voice, and he put the pieces of the puzzle together, assuming this to be the intern, his eyes flicking down to her name badge for a second, reading it as ‘Clara’. “For Mr McKinley. Is his assistant free tom come and sign for them?”

The woman paused, rolling her lips a little and nodding her head, a coy look on her features before sitting down in the chair and spinning in it to face the phone, lifting it up to her ear and dialling a short connection number. He didn’t seem to need to wait long, before she was summoning you, a ‘flower delivery’ to be claimed, and she was far too excited, only confirming his doubts that this was definitely the mistress. “She’ll be right down.”

“Fantastic.” He wasn’t sure she even processed his words, before her eyes were closing in on the flowers, and he ignored it, turning back to look at the elevator, waiting for the number on the twenty-eighth floor to light up, a number flashing over the screen. It paused on its descent this time, stopping at the eighteenth floor, and then again at the twelfth, and he assumed that somebody else had joined the journey for a short while.

When the doors finally opened, you weren’t built typing away this time, a grin on your face as your eyes swept over the entrance for him, and he waved his fingers again, straightening up from the desk.

“It’s my partner in crime, back again.”

“Missed you too much, just had to return.”

“Of course, you did, because I’m awesome.” You came to a stop before him, peering up at him through bright eyes, and he swallowed thickly, a little nervous but very excited, and he tried to remember any of what Mark had taught him, his friend being far better with the women than he was, and everything from the last-minute crash course he’d been given upon leaving the shop forty-five minutes ago seemed to have gone blank. “So, what really brings you here today?”

You gasped a little as he shifted to show you the collection, sliding the clipboard closer, and you were presented with a pen from him, floral patterning woven along the body, your thumb clicking it on to sign for them. When you passed it back, you shared a look with him, both of your glances flicking over to the intern who was still admiring the flowers, completely oblivious.

“Hey, Clara?” Her head snapped up, pale skin heating with colour as she flushed, and he suppressed a chuckle. “Mr McKinley is in meetings all afternoon, but he’ll want to approve these flowers. Can you put them in water, and I’ll call to have them sent up when he’s ready?”

She only nodded, more than happy to take a gift that she knew one of was for her into the back, hands reaching over to gather them all up. He almost missed it, watching as all of the flowers were taken, too busy watching the way you rolled your eyes at her when she looked away, fond but still a little cool, and he bit at the inside of his cheek to contain his amusement. It was just as she was leaving that his mind cleared, and he cleared his throat.

“Wait, wait, hold on!” She turned back, brows raised, and he reached over, letting her take a step forwards so that he could reach, plucking the single rose from where it was laying over the top of the two. “This, uh, this is actually for you.”

He presented it to you, your eyes widening a little, and you looked between him and the flower several times. His heart was in his throat, worry you were going to reject it, before you were giving him a different smile than he had seen yet, something softer and more endearing, and you plucked it from his hands, bringing it to your nose. “You’re just a big flirt, huh, Chris?” Your eyes fluttered for a moment, before you were looking back up to him through your lashes. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, honestly. I own the shop, the least I can do is give my partner in crime a pretty flower.”

You scoffed, but it was out of friendship and playfulness, not judgement or rejection, and silence fell between you both once again. The plastic in your hands wrinkled as you twirled it, wrapping the curled ribbon around your finger for a second, and letting it jump back into place when you let it go. “You busy? Got a packed store to run back to?”

Your question caught him off-guard, and he struggled to find words for a second, before clearing his throat and shaking his head. “No, uh, no. Clear day, actually. This was the last order.”

“So, you’re free for an hour or so?” Chris nodded his head, licking at his lips as he became a little nervous once again. “Well, why don’t I give you a tour? We’ve got some pretty cool stuff here, and I’ll fix you up with a drink from the coffee bar before you go.”

“This building has a coffee bar?”

“You bet it does.” You teased, turning on your heel as you took his question as acceptance, and he scooped up the clipboard, following after you as you made your way to the elevator, and this time when it opened, he stepped inside with you. As soon as the keypad lit up, prompting you to enter your four-digit authorisation code and make a floor selection, and you paused, finger hovering over the electronic selections. “What do you wanna’ see first, then?”

“You got an office?”

“I sure do.” You grinned, tapping for the twenty-eighth floor, and the machinery soon hummed into life, gears jerking smoothly into motion and soft music playing over the speakers in the background.

The ride was quiet, and he twisted his head as though the walls were interesting, just to take them in and hide the expression on his face as he watched you twirl the rose he’d given you between your fingers. There was a tag, one that he hadn't yet seen you read, and while all it contained was his number and a sign of his name, he was still a little nervous for your reaction to it, so he was glad to watch you place it onto your desk to be returned to later as you showed him around.

The building truly was impressive, large floor to ceiling glass windows on one wall of your office, staring out at the city below and giving a view so stunning and far that he could see all the way out to where the concrete faded away into greenery along the horizon, and he was a little taken aback by it all. Dipping the rose into a mug of water from the office kitchen, you promised to transfer it to a vase when you got home that evening, and you showed him all around.

Up and down on the elevator, proudly showing him every aspect of your workplace, and somewhere between the in-house gym and the coffee bar you’d boasted of in the staff food courts, you’d made him promise a tour of the flower shop sometime.

Way over an hour had passed in total, and he would’ve been more than happy to let that go on and on, for the rest of the day until the sun was setting, just to sit on the stools at the high tables at the coffee bar, getting refills on his coffee as he watched you drink herbals teas and chat about everything you got up to in the day, but your boss was paging you again to ask where you were, and he had his own job to return to at some point. You seemed hesitant at first, but had eventually divulged him with a guest security code for the elevator, logging him under your name, so that in future, he would be able to bring the flowers straight upstairs to you, and come and see you whenever he stopped by.

With a to-go cup in hand that had your number written on the cardboard holder, you’d escorted him all the way back to the lobby, pressing a friendly kiss to his cheek as he stepped between the doors, waving a little with what he knew was a goofy smile, waiting until he could no longer see you as the metal doors slid shut to reflect his image back at him, before he was bidding the two women at the reception desk a goodbye, and pretending not to know that they were eavesdropping, because he was floating far too high to care right now.

Chris hadn't been surprised at all when the next batch of flowers had come through, because you’d told him days prior that he could be expecting another batch of apology flowers to come through. Your work had been busy lately, you’d told him so yourself the few weeks that had slid past since you’d exchanged numbers had been filled with an abundance of texts.

Sharing texts had rapidly become phone calls in downtime, exchanging social media and sending one another dumb jokes and funny pictures throughout your workdays. He knew that your job had been getting harder lately, the run down to Christmas making everything a little more difficult, and that you’d been swept off of your feet because your boss had been, too. Eight-hour shifts had become twelve, day through to night, never seeing the light of a winter day unless it was through the windows of your office as you worked, and he had a sympathetic guilt twisting in his gut.

Two bouquets to make up for the lack of time that your boss had been able to spare for either of the women in his life and you’d looked positively exhausted as you came out of your office to greet him at the top of the elevator. You had a frown on your face that barely lifted into a smile as you saw him, even though he knew you were happy to catch sight of him. The usual shade of lipstick that projected boldness and power was gone, your face free of makeup entirely, and styled hair now just pulled up into a bun.

He wondered how long it had been since you’d had a full night’s sleep.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’re you feeling?” You only shook your head, sniffling a little as you suppressed a yawn, before taking one of the bouquets from his arms, and inspecting it carefully.

“These are beautiful.”

“I put a little extra ribbon on them, just for you.” He winked, and that had earned him a little chuckle, glancing at him over your shoulder as he followed you through to your office, and placing them down on the cabinet near the doorway to be distributed when your boss had a free second to look at them. Chris felt his own eyes widen in shock as he looked around, the stacks of paperwork littered around the surfaces were astonishing, and there was other mess scattered among that.

Stationary littered the desk, clearly trying to get everything sorted, and almost every draw in the room was half-open, your heels kicked off by the edge of the desk and there was a clear spot against one of the walls where you’d been sitting, a patch clear with papers spread out around you, wording and statements on them that made his head spin as he looked at them. Business definitely wasn’t his forte.

You rubbed a hand over your forehead, cursing a little as you tried to find a pen that wasn't a highlighter, and he didn’t miss the crack in your voice as you scoured the paper stacks. Leaning down to pick one up from the dropped pen pot on the floor, and offering it to you. A little sigh passed your lips, before you were taking it from him, clicking it into action and signing your name on both of the forms to confirm the delivery, a simple ritual of habit by this stage, as he knew that even if you didn’t he wasn’t risking any legal action from you.

You rubbed a hand over your forehead afterwards, rolling your shoulders and shaking yourself down as you tried to hit that reset button on your mood, but it wasn't working, it didn’t take a genius to see it, and so he reached out, placing a comforting squeeze to your forearm, fingers slipping a little lower to latch onto your wrist loosely.

“Okay, you’re a little overwhelmed in here, huh?” You let out a weak laugh, glancing around yourself and nodding. “It’s time for a break. Take your lunch break now, we’re getting out of here.”

“I can’t leave, I have too much to do. I’ll just get something from the food courts, a sandwich, maybe.” You slumped down into your desk chairs, the wheels on it carrying you backwards slightly, and he placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head at you.

“You have to go. It’s doctor’s orders.”

“Which doctor?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him, and he gasped a little, hands finding your own and pulling you to your feet, despite the whine that you let out.

“This doctor. I went to medical school, I get to give the orders. You, my dear, need one hour of rest and relaxation from your workplace, stat.” You started up at him for a second, seeming to weigh it out in your mind, but he wasn’t backing down, and he swore he saw that realisation click within your eyes, because you caved.

Slipping your heels on and grabbing your jacket from the back of the door, you logged your timeout of the building in the lobby with Angie, who cooed at you a little as she watched you go, a pitiful look on her face as she knew just how hard you were working too, before his hand was settling on your lower back.

A ten-minute walk, finding a table in a small pizzeria on the corner of a street, one that he’d been dying to try for months now, and a quick order, and you were slumping down tiredly against the table. The workload always increased at Christmas, sales shot through the roof, all the expansions of your company were filing for Christmas bonuses, parties, annual reports and then, of course, there were the usual rises and falls in statistics over the year that needed to be dealt with.

It was chaotic, to say the least.

Over a hot and freshly baked pizza, your selection of toppings, and a soda that made you wrinkle your nose from the fizziness within, you looked like there was a little more life within you when you’d been leaving.

You spilled it all to him, telling him every struggle you’d been facing, and while he didn't understand half of what you were saying, he was more than happy to just to listen. He couldn't offer much advice, or anything of the sort that might be helpful, but it seemed that just being able to talk to someone had made the day a little brighter.

The chill in the air and the biting winds had made you wrap your coat around yourself even tighter on the walk back to your work, but there was more of a pep in your step and a lighter tone to your voice, a little more chipper and slightly less drained as you began to make your way back across the carpark. His arm was sitting around your waist, keeping you pulled up to his side against the cold of the winter. Instead of guiding you over to the door, though, his first stop was his car, ensuring that you couldn't see what he had placed on the passenger seat until he was ready for you to see it.

Leaning yo back against the cold metal, he unlocked the car, making you promise to cover your eyes, and while making a few jokes about how you were sure this was how friendly guys would kidnap a girl, you did as he’d asked. You gasped a little at the rustling of fabric in the wind and under his hands, seeming to guess what it was before ever seeing the gift, because a wide smile spread over your features.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Depends, what do you think it is?” He teased, making you wait a little longer, and you dragged your lower lip through your teeth, a hopefully look spreading over what half of your face he could actually see.

“Flowers, maybe?”

“Then you would be correct!” Your hand fell away from your eyes, taking a second to blink back into adjustment of the rays the winter sun gave off, before you were brightening up even further at the bundle he was holding in his hands.

Soft petals in different shades of yellow, some duller and some standing out to shine like the sun, but it was a stunning bunch all over, and he’d been sure to pick the freshest and best-looking plants from each pot as he built the bouquet especially for you before leaving for his delivery. He let you stare at them for a second, running a finger over some of the petals, sniffling the collection carefully, and admiring each individual plant, before finally looking back up to him, a brow raising as you waited for an explanation on the plants.

“I just thought yellow was a bright colour. Nothing particularly special about these ones, I wanted to cheer you up.”

He scratched nervously at the back of his neck, and you hummed happily, bringing them up to admire once again, before letting out a happy little sound from the back of your throat, one that made his cheeks flush with embarrassed warmth, bringing a pink tinge to the pale skin. “Don’t yellow roses mean friendship?”

His stomach dropped a little, but he swallowed thickly, and nodded. He was impressed that you knew that, a random fact to know, but he almost felt like he was being friend-zoned by the statement, even though he was the one who’d given you the flowers. It was only a few days ago that he’d realised he might have feelings that weren’t going away any time soon, the original fascination and infatuation was becoming something a little deeper, he often found himself thinking of you when he was at work and filling or orders, or at home cooking, or even letting his morning coffee. You seemed to be on his mind a lot nowadays, and he was beginning to regret the yellow rose choice, worried he’d sent the wrong message. How ironic.

“Well, I’m really glad you consider us friends, Chris. I think you’re great, and I hope we’re friends for a long time.”

He tried to contain his disappointment, nodding his head as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Walking you up to the front door, both of the receptionists made a point of fawning dramatically over the flowers in your arms as you signed back in, exactly an hour later and perfectly on time for the end of your lunch break, but with a lot more joy and a rejuvenation for the work you were doing, enough to carry you through the rest of your day.

Standing at the elevator and waiting for it to arrive, his cheeks were warm enough as it was, the attention you were getting front he not-so-discreet spying of the receptionists making him even more nervous, but if Angie and Clara were watching then that's their choice, because he didn’t have much left to lose, now.

Cupping your cheeks in his hands, he made sure that you were looking at him, a soft and shy smile on your lips as he thumbs smoothed over your skin, trying to reassure you without using words. “Chin up, sweetheart. You’re gonna’ be just fine, okay?”

“Okay, Chris.” You nodded your head, words whispered as you agreed with him, and when he pulled you a little closer, you tipped your head to meet him, his lips pressing to your forehead in a tender kiss, his heart leaping in his chest as you did. The elevator dinged, and he snapped away from you, both of you lingering for a moment longer, something unspoken laying between you, but it was broken as a colleague stepped out of the box, excusing himself as he squeezed past you, and the moment was over.

Waving goodbye, he wiggled his fingers in response to you, and he took a moment to himself to steady his racing heart once the doors had closed with you inside. He bid his farewell to the two women ogling him with wide eyes from behind the desk, trying not to let his nervousness show, to be confident like Mark had taught him to be, and it lasted all the way to the car, before he broke it with a ragged sigh and a little cheer to himself, immediately dialling his best friend on the car’s phone as he pulled out of the parking lot.

It was the kind eyes of Angie that met him as he stepped into the building, palms sweating a little and a shake to his breath, and the flowers in his arms were practically vibrating with nerves as he approached the front desk. Placing them down on the glass surface, she admired them quietly, taking a look at them all before he was being offered the candy dish that she usually had hidden, and he took a peppermint gratefully, red and green swirls along it through the clear wrapping, the festive theme of the late December days was shining through.

“Only the one bouquet this time?”

“They, uh, they aren’t for Mr McKinley.” He mumbled, unwrapping the hard sweet and shoving it wrapped into his pocket, placing the treat on his tongue and sucking on it lightly for something to do, sweetened mint flavours exploding over his senses.

“Oh, so these are a pretty bouquet for our lovely (Y/N), then?”

He could only nod, wondering absently whether or not sweat was beginning to physically show through his shirt, and just how fast his heart was going, because he felt like he was about to pass out. “I think she’s in a meeting right now, but I can get them sent up for her, if that works for you, my dear?”

“Can I just go and drop them off in her office? It’ll make a nice surprise for her to come back to.”

She considered it for a moment, mulling over the security risk and all other options, and he was ready to give up, before she eventually agreed. “Alright, but only if you tell me about the flowers. She’s been telling me all about the pretty bouquet you make with meanings, even showed me your website.”

“She did? She does?”

Pride flushed through his system at that knowledge, and Angie seemed to pick up on it, her face cracking in an even wider smile. “Yes, and they were all beautiful, but I don’t remember this set on there.”

“It’s new, I made it. It’s a personal one, I suppose.”

“It got a name, yet?” He mulled it over, staring down at the pretty bunch in his hands. Dark shades of blue and black, splashes of purple that were speckled with white, and he decided it resembled the night sky rather nicely.

“What do you think of ‘Starry Night’?”

“Very fitting.” She confirmed, and his heart managed to slow a little in his chest as at least one thing on his to-do list became sorted. “So, blue roses, but what are the rest?”

“They would be black pansies and gypsophila.” She hummed, continuing to fix him with that curious gaze, and he knew that wasn't going to cut it. “The blue roses are for mystery, and gaining the impossible. I dye them myself. Black pansies mean broken love, which, I guess isn’t totally suitable here, but combined with the gypsophila, it’s more like the chance of a new beginning, and not necessarily unrequited feelings.”

“You really like her, huh?”

“That obvious?” He grinned, knowing that his feelings may as well be lit up with a neon sign above his head. “You’ll get them to her after her meeting, then?”

“Of course, I will.” She took them over the desk, writing down a memo on her notepad so that she didn't forget, and he watched as the pretty bundle was carried away. “Did you leave a card, or do you want to write a note?”

“Just tell her to text me if she likes them?” She beamed, nodding her head, and he backed away, turning on his heel, a little disappointed that he didn’t get to give them to you himself, but simultaneously relieved at the fact, because he could feel his pulse racing right to the tips of his fingers with how intense it was.

You’d clearly had a busy day, because it wasn’t until Chris was shutting up shop that he finally felt his phone buzz, doing his last check over of all the systems and machines, when a text from you came in, diverting every ounce of attention that he had.

[stardust 🌌 ✨] so, do these flowers have a hidden meaning, or did you just put them together because they look good?

He grinned at his phone, shaking his head slightly as a laugh left his lips, and he leaned on the wall, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he thought out his response.

> a little bit of both.

It was a few minutes before you replied, this time, a photograph coming through, of you carrying your flower out of the building, setting off towards the elevators from your office, if he was depicting the background correctly.

[stardust 🌌 ✨] gonna tell me what it is, or do I have to google it?

He paused, not quite having got that far, and the relief of not having to explain his feelings or you before had drowned out the fact that he’d have to tell you at some point, and his heart was leaping into his throat.

He gave himself a minute, checking over the locks and windows to make sure everything was sealed up, setting the thermostat and setting the alarm, not yet activating it, but making sure that everything was done, right down to holding his keys for the main door in his hands. Locking up the building, he sealed down the metal guard, triple checking the padlock, and making his way to the car.

Engine on, heaters up, his lights being the last to flood the parking lot as he tried to man up, before finally bringing back up the unopened message, taking the notifications and opening his texts.

> long story short, I’m trying to ask you out. using flowers, because words normally fail me in times of importance.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand over his face and just hoping that it was acceptable, his phone buzzing before he’d even managed to start up the car property for his journey home. His hand hovered over where it was laying on the passenger seat, considering whether or not to pick it up, before forcing down his nerves and reaching for it.

[stardust 🌌 ✨] friday night work for you?

He stared at the message for a few seconds, confirming that they were real, and he wasn’t just making it up because it’s what he wanted to read, before letting out a loud and victorious set of cheers for only him to ever know about.

> I’ll pick you up from your work at 5.

Chris was sitting in one of the white leather chairs that had been scattered around the lobby, shifting slightly awkwardly, nerves getting the best of him. He knew you wouldn't stand him up, but as the clock ticked over past 5:10 PM, he worried a little that you were trying to find a way to let him down, having decided that you’d changed your mind on wanting to go out with him, and he tried to steady his nerves.

Brushing over the flowers in his hands, he adjusted his grip on them a little, not wanting the plastic to become damp with his sweaty palms, and swallowing thickly again. Finally, the elevator doors chimed, and he let out a nervous sigh, taking a deep breath and sliding his eyes shut as he calmed himself down, certain that his heart no longer had a rhythm and was just beating erratically and rapidly like the seismograph in a disaster movie.

Twisting his head a little, he let out a deep breath, watching as you came toward him, looking far more casual than he had ever seen you ever had before. Jeans and jumper, a striped scarf that looked suspiciously handmade in the sweetest of ways, and sneakers on your feet instead of heels, dropping your height down by a few inches, and he was so used to looking straight at you, never needing to look down, that it caught him a little by surprise.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” You looked a little flushed, sounded slightly out of breath, and he realised you must’ve been rushing, not stalling, and he felt a little calmer at that thought. Placing down the flowers on the chairs, he stood up properly, letting out a slow breath.

“Don’t worry about it. You look beautiful.”

“I thought I’d change, heels and pencil skirts are great for work, but not so comfy for a first date.” There was a bag on your arm, which he assumed your business-wear was stuffed in, and he gave himself a moment to take you in. He liked you better this way, you looked more like yourself, the version of you that he knew you to be from hours of late-night calls and texting, weeks of getting to know one another, both in-person and via messages, and the formal outfits he was so used to seeing you in were just a cover for the real you.

He realised he’d been staring too long, jumping slightly in his panic, before turning away and grabbing the bundle that he’d brought with him. “I brought you flowers. Not as special as normal guys, since I own the flower shop and it's not the first time, but I did create this bouquet design just for you.”

“I think it’s pretty special.” Your words were whispered, taking the bundle of flowers and bringing them into yourself to admire delicately, a combination of red and white roses, with green bells peppered throughout. “Okay, so, let me guess on this one.”

He only nodded his head, watching as you considered the bundle, licking over your lower lip and taking it hostage between your teeth as your thoughts whirled before his very eyes.

“White roses are innocence, right? Seems fitting for a first date. Red roses are romance, of course.” You smirked a little then, glancing up at him through your lashes, and he grinned, feeling totally at ease now that he was under your gaze. “What about the green ones?”

“Green bells. They’re for good luck.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll need any luck, you’ve pretty much already got me wrapped around your little finger, Chris Beck.” You adjusted the flowers in your arms, taking his hand with your other one, and lacing your fingers together, and he squeezed back in security as heat flooded over his face in a warm blush. “However, I do think it’s sweet, so I’ll accept it.”

“I wanted to do something Christmassy for you, but I didn’t want to go with any of the typical ones. Holly, mistletoe, poinsettia, they didn’t feel unique enough.”

“I don’t know, I think mistletoe can be good.” You leaned in a little, his brows raising slightly as your wide smile dimmed down, the humour of the moment changing, and his free hand found your waist, fingers playing with yours on the other, and he pulled you a little closer, taking the hint that you were laying down.

“Maybe just this once.” He teased, nose bumping against your own, and he could still taste the sweet honey on your breath from the herbal teas you were always concocting, warm breath shared between you. As your head twisted to close the gap, he became acutely aware of the lingering feeling of not being alone, the both of you jumping and snapping apart a little when the loud crashing of a mug on the floor sounded out loudly.

Two sets of voices cursing followed it, Angie’s and Clara’s heads both ducking down behind the desk as they looked at the mess on the floor, and his jaw dropped as he released the two had been watching on eagerly this whole time, and he’d been so wrapped up in you that he hadn't realised there’d been an audience all along.

He would’ve been embarrassed, had it not been for the way your face pressed into his shoulder as you tried to contain your laughs, and he found the amusement in it too, his arm slipping around your waist as he matched your laugher, shaking his head as he watched the two women try and clear up the split coffee and smashed mug.

“Hey, ladies, I’ll see you Monday!”

The popped back up, sheepish looks on their faces as they nodded, and he gave them both a little wave, letting you tug him along by the hand that was still connected to your own, towards the open doorway of the building, a chill rolling in. As you stepped out, a chill took over, and his hand slipped from yours to sliding around your waist instead, pulling you closer to him, and you guided him over to where your car was parked, and he was more than happy to simply follow.

“So, what do you have planned?”

“I thought something a little more relaxed would be fun. How do you feel about a tree lighting ceremony, and some street food?” You curled into him a little more, a happy sigh leaving you.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Unlocking the car, he let you go, long enough to put your back in the trunk and lay your flowers out on the front seat, locking it back up as you deemed yourself ready to go. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, but just one thing, first. Something I’ve been waiting weeks for.”

His brows raised, lips parting to ask you waist it was, but your hand latched onto the front of his shirt, tugging him forward as you leaned up, and he groaned a little, a soft sound but vibrating through him as your mouth closed over his, soft and warm, lips pressing together, and a shock ran along his entire body. His hand slipped to your waist, one cupping your cheek as he pulled you a little closer, pressing you back into the car as your bodies came flush up together, and he felt like his legs were going to give out underneath him as you sighed out against his mouth, a breathy moan carried with it.

Twisting his head to the side, he barely pulled back for breath before he was diving right back into you, more confident and passionate this time with his movements. He took control, feeling the way you sagged into his hands as he did, lips working with yours in an intimate dance of their own making, slow and teasing movements, before finally he was pulling away, just far enough to press his forehead to your own as the two of you panted lightly, trying to catch your breath.

“Worth the wait?” He mused, feeling your breathless giggle wash over his lips, before you were leaning up just enough to peck his lips once more, and his lips were still pouted, chasing after you as you backed away for a second, before he was licking over them and cracking his eyes open to look at the adoring expression on your face.

“Definitely worth the wait.”