#my fic: nothing left but souls entwined

[wordsintimeandspace]

nothing left but souls entwined (1/12)

Jon burns Gerry's page the night before the Unknowing, but Beholding isn’t quite done with him yet. Instead of being released, Gerry ends up in Jon's head - and takes over his eyes. Now blind and powerless, Jon has no other choice but to trust Gerry as he guides them through everything from rituals to relationships. And although Jon is still determined to find a way to separate them and finally set Gerry free, he and Gerry grow ever closer along the way. 

JonGerry/JonGerryMartin, rated T, 3000 words for this chapter.

Please note that I’ll post future chapters on AO3 only, so please head over there if you want to follow this story: read on AO3!

The night before the Unknowing, Jon finds himself in a cheap hotel room unable to sleep. He spends hours staring at the popcorn ceiling above his bed, waiting with increasing dread for the dawn to approach, before he finally gives up on trying. With a groan, he pushes himself upright. For a moment he just sits there, his face buried in his hands.

When he finally gathers the strength to look up, his eyes immediately fall onto his backpack sitting by the desk across the room. In the dark, with only the street light outside providing a bit of illumination, he can’t see more than a bulky lump, but it draws his eyes nevertheless.

Jon gulps. There’s plenty of reasons why he can’t sleep tonight - the imminent end of the world, most of all - but the contents of said backpack are at least a part of it. The telltale beat of his guilty conscience pounds in his ears until Jon finally gets up and crosses the room.

From the backpack he pulls a page, carefully tucked between a book he cannot focus on and a statement he hasn’t yet read. It’s the page of Gerard Keay, torn out from the book that Gertrude used to trap and bind his soul. It feels warm to the touch, but Jon is sure he must be imagining it. It is August after all, and the room is stiflingly hot and humid even at night.

With a sigh, Jon takes the page and sits by the open window. He lights a cigarette, taking a drag and breathing out slowly before he has a closer look at the page in his hands.

It’s covered in ink, with neat handwriting that spells out the ghastly account of Gerry’s death. By now, Jon has read it so many times that he knows it by heart. He spent a long time staring at these letters, at each stroke of ink that builds a prison for Gerry’s soul, dooming him to an existence of pain until someone releases him.

Jon grimaces. He made the promise to set him free, back in America. A promise that he still hasn’t kept, despite the guilt churning in his stomach.

Even now, despite the awfulness of it all, Jon selfishly finds himself wanting to read the words on the page out loud. To summon Gerry into the silence of the night to make the crushing loneliness a little more bearable. To find the advice and guidance he so desperately craves.

Jon sighs and takes another drag of his cigarette. He can’t, and he won’t, but the desire still chokes the air out of his lungs. He wants to call Martin instead, like he used to back when he was in America and couldn’t sleep. He knows Martin will answer, even in the middle of the night, but he deserves to get some more rest than Jon does. He even wants to go see Tim, in the way it used to be back in Research. When he could have crossed the hall to knock on his door, and find comfort behind it instead of resentment and bared teeth.

None of it is an option now. Instead Jon is desperately alone, and he still has a promise to keep. When he finishes his next cigarette he finally gets up, his fingers absently tracing the engraved web on his lighter. Best to get it over with, and maybe he can get one more hour of sleep after, when his guilty conscience isn’t crushing him.

He takes the battery out of the smoke alarm before stepping into the bathroom towards the sink. In the sterile light he looks pale, the circles beneath his eyes dark as bruises in a stark contrast to the scars scattering his face. Even after all this time, they’re still a tone lighter than his skin. Jon doesn’t like looking at himself these days. He merely glances at his reflection before focusing once again on the paper in his hands. It takes him a second to notice that it’s not his vision that’s blurring, but that his hands are shaking.

Jon takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he has to do. “Just, just do it,” he murmurs to himself, grimacing. He grips the lighter, cold and smooth against his skin, and brings it closer to the page. Gulping hard, he flicks open the cap.

It takes a few seconds of fumbling, but finally the lighter ignites. It’s a small, flickering flame, and for the first few seconds that it licks over the page nothing happens. Then, finally, it catches fire. There’s a burst of light and heat, and pain explodes behind Jon’s eyes like a supernova.

It burns like he’s the one catching fire, white hot and blinding. Jon is distantly aware that he’s screaming, the sound ringing in his ears, but it barely registers over the onslaught of agony. In the sink, the page crumbles to nothing but ash. It’s the last thing Jon sees before everything goes dark.

Jon comes to with his cheek pressed against the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. He squeezes his eyes shut, sucking in a hitching breath that’s nearly a sob. His chest is heaving, his stomach roiling with nausea. The pain that was so all-encompassing subsides a little, even as it becomes more focused. It turns into a throbbing ache behind his eyes, and Jon gulps against another wave of sickness.

He wants nothing more than to lie still until it eases, but suddenly a voice rings through his head and Jon sits up so quickly he nearly throws up.

‘What,’ Gerard Keay growls, ‘did you do?’

Jon wrenches his eyes open, but everything remains dark. “Uh,” he starts, his voice wavering, and pushes himself to his feet with some difficulty.

‘Oh! Oh, what the hell,’ Gerry says before Jon can string together a coherent sentence. The anger in his voice is suddenly extinguished by pure shock.

Trembling, Jon takes a few steps until his hand brushes a wall. He fumbles for the light switch, even though he really doesn’t know how he managed to hit it when he collapsed. “I’m, um- Gerard?” he asks.

‘Jon…’ Gerry says slowly, just as Jon finally finds the switch. He presses it - to no avail. The room remains pitch black, and Jon lets out a curse as he desperately tries to tamper down the panic rising in his stomach. He flicks the switch a couple more times. “I don’t- I’m not sure what happened,” he manages to get out. “I- I burned your page. I swear, Gerry, I did. I’m-”

‘I know you did,’ Gerry says, his voice strangely hollow. ‘I can see you did. There’s ash all over the sink.’

“You… what?” Jon frowns, hitting the light switch one more time. “Wait, I need to get a light, just give me-”

‘The light is fine,’ Gerry interrupts, and Jon stills, coldness spreading in his veins. ‘For fucks sake, stop messing with the switch. You’re going to give me a migraine.’

Once again Jon feels like throwing up, but now for an entirely different reason. It really is too dark. It’s more than just the bathroom light not working. There’s not even a slither of light coming from under the door, although he’s sure he left the bedside lamp on. His legs tremble, and he presses his back against the wall for support. “What?” he croaks, his head spinning.

‘Damn. Okay. I need you to be calm.’

“I surely won’t be if you say it like this,” Jon bites out, his hands clenched into fists. “Just… just tell me. Tell me what’s going on.”

‘I’m… to be honest, I’m not entirely sure.’

“Gerard, I can’t see.” A sob escapes Jon’s throat. He takes a trembling breath, grasping the wall behind him to find something to hold on to in the darkness. “And you do, apparently. I need you to give me more than that.”

‘I’m… in your head, I think,’ Gerry starts hesitantly. ‘Sharing your body. And I- I’m really sorry, Jon. But I- it seems I have your eyes.’

“W-what?”

‘I see through your eyes. We’re in a small bathroom. A hotel, if I had to guess? The tiles are awful. There’s a crack in the sink. I’m looking into the mirror and I see you.’

Jon’s legs give out. The fall is gentler this time, at least. Instead of collapsing he slides down the wall until he’s sitting in a heap on the cold bathroom floor, his chest heaving as panic claws at his throat.

‘Hey. I need you to breathe, Jon,” Gerry says, voice full of concern, and somehow it’s that tone that tips Jon over from despair to anger.

“You told me to burn your page,” he hisses. “That’s what I did. Did you know this would happen? Did you… what, trick me, into stealing my eyes?”

‘No, of course not!’ Gerry protests. ‘This… I don’t know what happened. This shouldn’t be possible.’

Jon grits his teeth, bitterness coating his tongue. “You did want to be released from the book, so this seems rather convenient-”

‘I wanted to die!’ Gerry bursts out in response, and the despair in his voice is enough to shut Jon up abruptly. ‘Properly this time. Finally be free. Do you think I enjoy this? Being trapped, once again? It doesn’t fucking matter if it’s the book or your body, the result is the same. I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose any of this.’

Jon lets out a trembling breath. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, willing back the tears burning in them. “Shit. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Gerry is quiet for a long while. ‘Come on, let’s get you off the floor,’ he finally says, sounding about as tired as Jon feels.

Jon pushes himself to his feet, his knees trembling. He grits his teeth, holding on to the wall for balance, and hesitates as he tries to piece together any resemblance of orientation.

‘The door is directly to your left,’ Gerry says, saving Jon from blindly fumbling around the room. He hesitantly reaches out, and breathes out a sigh of relief when his fingers brush the cold metal of the doorknob. Slowly he walks through the door, stepping from the cold tiles of the bathroom onto the carpet of his room.

‘It’s maybe five steps towards the bed,’ Gerry continues as Jon makes his way across the room. ‘A little to the right. Yes. Good. You got it.’

Jon collapses onto the lumpy mattress with a groan. He rolls onto his back, staring straight up. God, he never thought he would long to see the awful popcorn ceiling. Even the strangely coloured spot in one corner that he’d warily eyed the day before would be a welcome sight.

‘I’m sorry,’ Gerry offers quietly, as if picking up on Jon’s train of thought.

This time, the gentleness brings tears to Jon’s eyes. His breath hitches, his chest constricting with anxiety and grief. “I am too,” he murmurs with a waver in his voice. He lets out a long breath, gulps down the tears and finally sits up with his back against the headboard.

He desperately wants a cigarette to help him calm down, but he must have dropped the lighter when he collapsed earlier. Instead, he pulls the blanket into his lap and tries to focus on all the questions that are nearly drowned out by the panic nipping at his heels.

“How… how does all of this work, then?” he finally asks, frowning. “You're in my head, you see through my eyes, but can you do anything else?”

‘Already jumping to the logistics of this?’ Gerry asks, bemused.

Jon shrugs, just barely biting back either a sob or hysterical laughter. “It’s either that or having a breakdown after all.”

‘Fair enough.’ Gerry pauses for a moment. ‘I… I don’t think I can do anything else. I can see and I can hear. I can talk to you, in your head. But I don’t think I can… I don’t know, move your body or anything like that.’

Jon nods. That’s a relief, at least, to know that he still has control over his own limbs. “Right.”

‘You’ve been speaking out loud so far, but I guess if you talk to me inside your head, I can hear it too.’

With a frown between his brows, Jon tries to focus on the words he wants to get across. ‘Like this?’

��Yep. That works.’

Jon lets out a long breath. ‘Well. At least I won’t have to talk to myself in front of other people all the time.’

Gerry hesitates, for just a second too long. ‘You sound like you expect this to be permanent,’ he finally says carefully.

Jon pauses. ‘I… I don’t know. Do you think it isn’t?’

‘God, I have no idea.’ Gerry lets out a sigh. ‘Like I said, I don’t know how we ended up this way. But it might be possible to reverse it. Give you your eyes back.’

‘M-maybe. And release you, finally. I’m- I really am sorry it didn’t work when I burned the page.’

‘It’s fine,’ Gerry says, sounding resigned.

‘Is it?’

‘Well, no. But it’s not your fault, at least.’

Jon grimaces. Maybe, if he hadn’t waited so long, if he hadn’t so desperately wished to get another chance to talk to Gerry…

‘Does the Eye have anything to say about this?’ Gerry asks before Jon’s thoughts can spiral any further. ‘Anything useful, for a change?’

‘Oh, um, I’m not sure.’ Jon bites his lip. The Eye has been surprisingly quiet so far, but now he reaches out towards that power. Tries to Know and find the door in the sea of Knowledge that might bring at least a bit of clarity.

Before he can properly focus on it, a sharp knock comes from the door. Jon flinches, his heart in his throat.

“Jon!” Basia yells from behind it, voice muffled through the wood. Jon’s blood runs cold. All of a sudden he’s reminded with a painful clarity where he is and what he was about to do the next morning. “Jon, you’re late. Don’t tell me you overslept today of all days.”

‘Who’s that?’ Gerry asks, at the same time as Jon, mind whirling with sudden panic, goes, ‘Fuck.’

‘Jon?’ Gerry asks again, alarmed. Jon ignores him and clambers out of bed instead, unsteady on his feet.

“I-” he starts, his voice breaking. “Ah, sorry, I- I’ll be there in a moment.”

“We’re leaving in ten minutes,” Basira calls back, and then she’s gone as abruptly as she came, leaving Jon alone with his despair. How did he forget that they’re here on a mission? A mission that suddenly seems impossible, blind and disoriented as he is. For a moment Jon can just stand there, breath coming in quick gasps, feeling utterly lost in the darkness.

‘What’s going on?’ Gerry asks sharply, breaking through his panic.

“Um, it’s- it’s the Unknowing,” Jon stammers. “It’s today. Here. In Great Yarmouth. We’re here to stop it.”

‘Shit.’

Jon shakes his head. “I-I don’t know if I can do this. Not- not like this,” he admits, his head spinning.

 ‘What was the plan, then? I can’t imagine you came this far without one.’

“Um. We-we have the explosives. From Gertrude. From the storage unit you told me about.”

Gerry lets out a small, surprised laugh. ‘Explosives. Right. Bit extreme even for Gertrude, but she knew how to get a job done.’

“We were going to plant them at the House of Wax. Set them off when- when it’s started. When it’s vulnerable.”

Gerry pauses for a moment. ‘Okay.’ he finally says, firm and determined. ‘Okay, fine.’

“Fine?!”

‘Yeah. Let’s go and blow up some clowns.’

For a moment, Jon is at a loss of words. He still feels desperately lost in the darkness. “Gerry, I- I can’t,” he says, voice cracking.

‘You can,’ Gerry instists. ‘You will.’

“I don’t-” Jon stops himself, frowning. “You didn’t care about this last time.”

‘Last time I was a book. It’s different now, isn’t it? I’m trapped in your head. I’m aware of what’s going on around me. And I swear, if I’m stuck against my will in a world where the Stranger takes over I will lose my mind.’

Jon winces. “I don’t…”

‘Please, Jon. We’ve got to try, at least.’

Finally, Jon nods. He knows they have to try, no matter how terrified he is. He owes Gerry that much, at least.

With a deep breath Jon takes a small step forward, but he hesitates again when he doesn’t recognize where in the room he is. There’s a light breeze from the open window, somewhere on the left if he had to guess, but apart from that he’s still lost. The breeze only painfully reminds him that he’s still wearing just a shirt and boxer shorts, and that he has no idea where he left his trousers the night before. A whimper escapes his throat. “I- I can’t even find my clothes, Gerry.”

‘There’s a chair four steps to your right,’ Gerry immediately says. ‘It’s in front of a desk. A shirt and trousers thrown over the back of it.”

For just another moment, Jon hesitates. Then, with his heart racing and his hands clenched into fists, he takes a leap of faith. Instead of carefully feeling the way forward, he intently takes four steps in the direction Gerry indicated. He expects to bump into the desk, gain a bruise on his hip to the scatter of scars on his skin, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, after the fourth step, he reaches forward and immediately touches the soft cotton of his dress shirt. He lets out a breath of relief.

‘See?’ Gerry says as Jon slips on his shirt and trousers. ‘You don’t have to do this on your own. We can do this. Together.’

Jon lets out a shuddering breath. Somehow, Gerry’s voice in his head is strangely soothing. Reassuring in a way it shouldn’t be, given the task ahead of them. Still, Jon manages to relax his tense shoulders just a bit and nods. “Right,” he says hoarsely as he slips into his shoes and turns to the door. “Yes. Let’s do this.”

[sonamytrash]

Lust For Life

Levi Ackerman x F!reader

Warnings: Sex, oral sex, fingering, creampie, more sex.

Note: Purely self-indulgent smut. Inspired by Lust For Life by Lana Del Rey ft The Weekend. Song fic, but the lyrics are in a different font, so skip if you like. I left it a little open to interpretation. Levi and reader have been apart for some time, having been in a past relationship. At last reunited they fuck on his desk. Enjoy!

_____________________

In these stolen moments,

The world is mine,

There's nobody here, just us together,

Keepin' me hot like July forever,

He reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, the proximity between the two of you making him feel alive again.

"You were always worth treating well," he says, his eyes locked with yours. "I never wanted to do anything to hurt you."

He leans in closer to you, the proximity between the two of you causing his heart to race. "I still care about you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I always have, and I always will."

'Cause we're the masters of our own fate

We're the captains of our own souls

He leans in and presses his lips to yours, the kiss full of longing and tenderness. All the years you have spent apart, all the pain and suffering, melt away in that moment,

There's no way for us to come away

'Cause boy we're gold, boy we're gold

And I was like

The kiss between you and Levi grows deeper and drips with passion. His tongue explores your mouth and tastes every inch of you. The electric chemistry that exists between the two of you is palpable, each knowing exactly what the other desires. After all, you have danced this dance so many times before. Your bodies entwine together, the heat and passion impossible to ignore. Completely lost in one another.

Take off, take off

Take off all your clothes

Take off, take off

Take off all your clothes

Take off, take off

Take off all of your clothes

His hand finds its way to the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth hungrily. He moans into the kiss as he feels one hand trailing down his chest, another finding the waistband of his trousers, fingers working on the button. He groans as your hand travels south, caressing his hardness through the confinement of his clothes, the sensation driving him wild with desire.

They say only the good die young

That just ain't right

'Cause we're having too much fun

Too much fun tonight, yeah

One of your hands finds its way back to his muscular chest, having discarded his shirt. Removing each other's clothes, desperate to be as close as physically possible. Years of longing and desire, having been apart for so much time.

And a lust for life, and a lust for life

Keeps us alive, keeps us alive

And a lust for life, and a lust for life

Keeps us alive, keeps us alive

Levi groans loudly as he feels your hand now wrap around his cock, the sensation driving him wild with pleasure. He had missed your touch so much, and now that he's finally here, it feels like a dream. You had always known just how to drive him wild and cloud his thoughts with nothing but you.

He uses his rough hands to caress your breasts, feeling your nipples hardening against his palms. He can feel the wetness seeping through your panties, and he can't resist dipping his fingers down to tease your clit.

'Til we run out of breath, gotta dance 'til we die

You kiss along his jaw and neck, slowly pumping his cock in your hands "Remember the things we used to do together Vi, dirty teenagers fucking like animals everywhere and anywhere." You say seductively, reminding him of the days where he would pull you into an alley or storehouse to fuck you senseless. A wanton moan escapes your lips when you feel those fingers you've missed so, so much.

My boyfriend's back

And he's cooler than ever

There's no more night, blue skies forever

Levi groans as he feels your lips on his neck and the feel of your hands pumping his cock, every touch and moan you bestow upon him, driving him wild with lust.

He can't help but smile at the memory of your wild teenage years, filled with sex and passion. The two of you sneaking around to fuck in the most risqué of places, always craving the feel of each other's bodies.

'Cause we're the masters of our own fate

We're the captains of our own souls

So there's no need for us to hesitate

We're all alone. Let's take control

"I remember," he says, his voice husky with desire. "I could never get enough of you, y/n. And I still evidently fucking can't." He says almost breathless.

And I was like

Take off, take off

Take off all your clothes

Take off, take off

Take off all your clothes

Take off, take off

Take off all of your clothes

He runs his fingers along your slit, the wetness making it easy to slide in between your folds, back into familiar territory. "I want to make you scream my name again," he whispers lustily in your ear. "That was always my favourite sound."

They say only the good die young

That just ain't right

'Cause we're having too much fun

Too much fun tonight, yeah

Levi groans at the feeling of your soft pussy clenching around his fingers, the thought of the sensation around his cock after so long. He loves the way your body sings for him, the way your pussy sucks him in hungrily.

And a lust for life, and a lust for life

And a lust for life, and a lust for life

Without any more hesitation, he picks you up by the hips and sets you down on his desk, spreading your legs wide open. Kneeling down between your thighs, breathing in your sweet scent before his tongue begins lapping at your wetness hungrily.

Keeps us alive, keeps us alive

Keeps us alive, keeps us alive

He sucks on your clit, fingers playing with your folds as he explores and enjoys every inch of you with his tongue again after so long apart, the picture of you having been etched into memory. The sensation is intense and the pleasure that he delivers almost too much.

"You're so fucking wet," he whispers seductively against your skin. "I've missed the taste of you, y/n."

Levi continues to lick and suck on your clit hungrily, worshipping the temple that is your body. He had missed this so much, missed the feel of you under his tongue, the taste of you, and the sound of your moans as they fill the room.

He speeds up the pace, his tongue working harder while he adds another finger into the mix. He plunges two fingers deep inside of you, working them in and out while his tongue laps at your folds.

My boyfriend's back

And he's cooler than ever

You come undone as he devours your cunt. Arching your back in pleasure as your orgasm rips through you.

There's no more night, blue skies forever

I told you twice in our love letter

There's no stopping now, green lights forever

Levi continues to work his fingers inside of you, lost in the pleasure of making you cum. Desperately trying to resist the urge to hump the air as his cock twitches in anticipation for the heaven he knows is yet to come.

You moan his name loudly, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

He drinks up every drop of your sweet nectar, the taste of you driving him wild with desire. He stands up, kissing you deeply and passionately as he shares the taste of your essence with you.

"You taste incredible, you always do," he coos, hands gripping your hips tightly. "I want to be inside of you so badly. I need to mould this pussy back to the shape of my cock." He says, telling you what he's going to do rather than asking.

You look at him, eyes heavy with lust "Fuck me levi." you pant, your legs open wide and your fingers spreading your swollen cunt for him to see before he stretches you on his cock.

And I was like,

Take off, take off

Take off all your clothes

Levi growls at your words, he positions himself between your legs, his cock hard and throbbing with need as he readies himself at your entrance.

Without warning, he plunges himself deep inside of you, feeling the warm wetness of your body enveloping him in a tight embrace.

Take off, take off

Take off all your clothes

"Fuck" he hisses, almost a whimper. "You feel so fucking good." he grunts, hips slamming hard into your own. "I've missed the feeling of your pussy around my cock like this."

As he thrusts into you again and again, he can feel the pleasure building inside of you once more, your moans becoming louder and more desperate with each passing moment.

"This pussy was made for me."

Take off, take off

Take off all of your clothes

He picks up the pace, gripping your hips tightly, thrusting harder and faster into you as you both become one. The sound of your moans fill the room, your bodies moving together for what feels like eternity.

And a lust for life, and a lust for life

He can't get enough of the sound of you and the sight of you quivering from pleasure, as you cum again on his cock, tits bouncing from his relentless movements, he relishes the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing him. With one final thrust, he feels his cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches his own orgasm, hot cum spurting deep inside of you as his cock kisses your cervix.

Keeps us alive, keeps us alive

He kisses you deeply, the taste of your lips forever etched into his memory. He knows that there's nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you, nothing that would stop him from loving you endlessly, worshipping you for the rest of his life.

[thepaperpanda]

The Art Of Hunting || Neteyam & Lo’ak x fem!Omaticaya reader

Summary: You are interrupted by Neteyam's younger brother during your hunting lesson.

Warnings: none, just pure fluff (and Lo'ak interfering with a hunt lesson😋)

Word count: 1900

Author: Rouge

A/N: prior to reading, it’s important to know that: this is my very first attempt at writing for Avatar ✤ the reader is female Omaticaya ✤ a few things are in Na'vi language (I hope they were translated correctly) ✤ some Pandoran creatures are mentioned in the fic ✤ you'll find a glossary underneath the fic

There was no doubt that Pandoran forests were one of the most beautiful, breathtaking sights on the planet. Those forests, filled with greenery and sometimes interspersed with rivers and lakes, have been home to many creatures, both small and large. Within the darkness entwined with light, harmony, so coveted, seemed alive, bonding everything together.

It was a beautiful sight to see the river in its generous curves, glinting blue amid the leafy green. As she drummed and rustled, the clear water echoed through the canopy of trees. As a result, the river invited all souls to dance, rumbling quietly and flowing with her current. A soil rich in brown hues, along with fleshy, lush green leaves, combined to create a three-dimensional wonderland that captured the attention of onlookers willing to slow down and absorb soft rays of sunlight falling through ancient branches and flowing down to the forest floor.

Upon hearing Neteyam whisper ‘breathe’ in a calm tone, your ears perked up.

As slowly as possible, you turned your face towards him, watching how focused the oldest Sully brother was - his eyes opened wide and his nose twitched as he sniffed the wet scent of the forest floor. “Neteyam…” Attempting to whisper, you were quickly hushed by his hand being raised up in the air and his brief glance that told you to keep silent. Hunting had been one of your most difficult struggles - you weren't much of a hunter and many Na'vi told you not to worry about getting better at it, and instead concentrate on herbology. When the last sun rays kissed the forest and heathland, and when the greens and purples morphed into gray under the eclipse, yeriks went out to forage.

As Neteyam instructed, he kept his tone low, barely moving his lips as he spoke, "Remember, Y/N, bow and arrow are mere tools. You must shoot with the heart." With the last rays of setting sun, his yellowish eyes glistened with focus.

As you nodded, remembering the last time Neteyam took you hunting - because of your careless behavior, the whole yerik flock got spooked and ran before you could strike any targets.

Neteyam stood behind you and made sure you stretched the bowstring sufficiently; soon, his left hand was placed underneath your chest, on your upper tummy; your ears perked as you instinctively drew in some air - when Neteyam was close, especially that dangerously close to you as he was then, you had trouble concentrating.

Neteyam was adept at reading unobvious signs - a little grin glinted across his lips as he kept his composure, not giving you any indication he was aware of the slight change in your behavior.

While supporting your right elbow with his other hand, the oldest Sully brother whispered, "Focus now, Y/N."

Because he had five fingers instead of four, it always made you giggle when he was actually touching you - no exceptions were made this time.

The laughter of yours only lasted for a half-second, but it caused yeriks to stop grazing and look carefully around, turning into attentive mode.

In spite of this, Neteyam did not resign from hunting wild prey. As he moved his head so close to you, only an inch or two separated his lips from your cheek, he whispered directly into your ear, "Y/N, what did I just say?"

Trying desperately to calm your heartbeat, you prayed that he wouldn't feel the heat radiating from your body. “That I need to focus.”

"Focus then," he instructed you, his voice soft as a northern breeze, his tone nothing more than a whisper.

Another brief nod was given by you in response. Using all your strength, you stretched the bowstring as far as you could and aimed for the individual grazing grass on the sidelines. Your focus was the channeling of your spirit, of your true self within, so as you focused you could learn a few things about yourself - for instance, that you could hold your breath long enough to stretch the bowstring to the point where it started to cut into the flesh of your fingers.

“Fire,” Neteyam whispered into your ear.

Your shot was interrupted by another figure approaching, making such a fuss that the entire yerik flock fled.

As Lo'ak crouched against his older brother, inspecting a clump of grass carefully, he tilted his head and looked up at Neteyam, saying, "Mother was looking for you, bro. I won't lie, she was pissed you were out after the eclipse."

Neteyam's response was straightforward, as always - he hit his younger brother's head from behind, lightly enough to not hurt him. "So you've found us, brother. What's wrong with you, though? Didn't you notice we were hunting?"

Lo'ak's shoulder shifted a bit as he spoke, "I observed you for a while, and all I saw was you flirting heavily with our Y/N."

Your cheeks began to flush as you gasped a quiet 'stop’ - turning your head aside to conceal the redness you breathed out deeply.

A snarl of anger was heard from Neteyam as he displayed his teeth at Lo'ak. "Quit it, brother. Let's head home, the last thing I need is for the father to get angry as well."

The younger brother chuckled and poked your ribs with his index finger a little. "How was the hunting? No kills this time as well, huh? Quit trying, Y/N, you're not a hunter. You won't become one because you hang out so much with Neteyam.”

Your ears perked a few times quickly as you hissed at him. "Lo'ak!"

“What?!” Lo'ak leapt nimbly off a rock ledge you and Neteyam were using for vantage point. “Come on, let’s move up!”

You watched the two brothers slowly walk off, smiling gently to yourself - their relationship was so emotional, but despite the fact that they fought easily, it was so beautiful to watch them interact with one another - there was no doubt that they shared a strong fraternal bond. A wooden bow was slung over your shoulder, and you picked up a quiver filled with arrows that you adorned with some leaves and features before joining Sully brothers.

In the dark of night, Lo'ak walked first, leading the way back home. He was always the first one everywhere, always so curious, never satisfied with the status quo, always seeking for something new to discover.

The long steps you took aligned you with Neteyam, who reluctantly followed his brother, holding his bow firmly in hand. As you stared at him, you engaged him in a small conversation, "You seem angry, Net."

As the three of you crossed the large field, a group of resting kentens rose into the sky. This made Neteyam and you stop to marvel at the luminous magenta and purple discs that floated to safety on the branches of an old, nearby tree.

Taking a glance over his shoulder, Neteyam checked to make sure his younger brother was far enough. Putting on his ionar once he was certain, he turned to you. "It's not that," he replied quickly, trying to dismiss the topic.

With your quiver slung over the same shoulder as your bow, you crossed your hands over your chest, giving him a significant glance, the tip of your nose twitching a tad.

“What?” His tail wiggled rapidly.

You touched his chest with your slender fingertips and whispered, "Neteyam, I know you long enough to be sure you harbor anger within you."

Taking a deep breath, Neteyam placed his hand on top of yours that rested on his chest, then placed his other hand on your cheek to caress the smooth surface of your skin. “There was just one thing I hoped for. A few alone moments with you, Y/N."

As you snuggled your cheek into his warm, welcoming palm, you curled your lips into a sweet smile; your eyes never left his. "The plenty of occasion will come, oeyä yawntu," you said, wiggling your tail slowly.

The gaze of Neteyam was intense as he stared down at you. Your smile was the sun, it was the silencing of all the noises, it was both the cage and the ever-wide open door, leading to unknown places. It wasn't long before Neteyam got lost in the depth of your eyes and the warmth of your little grin. “Is your word a promise, yawntutsyìp?”

A slight tilt of your head indicated a nod. “Yes.”

A strong embrace encased your slim figure as Neteyam pulled you closer. After removing his ionar, he lowered his head slowly, resting his forehead gently against yours; his tail danced a bit with yours, wrapping itself around yours from time to time. "I love you, Y/N," he whispered softly.

When you slipped your palm across his chest and rested it against his heart, you replied, "Nga yawne lu oer."

After returning to check on you two, Lo'ak called out, "Guys! Are you two going to stand in the middle of the forest, like idiots, snuggling now? Seriously?”

A low growl escaped Neteyam's lips as he put his ionar back on. “This is none of your business. Get your ass back on the ikran."

"I'm not the one whose shenanigans cause us problems, bro," Lo'ak laughed, but followed his older brother's order.

As Neteyam's ikran spotted him approaching, it roared and wiggled its wings several times, lowering its head to greet his Na'vi.

Ikran's elongated snout was stroked by Neteyam as he jumped on its back, helping you up as well. Neteyam connected his queue to the ikran, and the beast was ready to fly. "Y/N, are you alright?" Neteyam asked softly as he wrapped his arms around your tummy to keep you from falling.

"Yes," you replied shortly. "Let's head home."

Neteyam ordered ikran to take off with a nod.

Before soaring, ikran roared once more, spreading its large wings.

It was fascinating to watch Lo'ak glide smoothly with his ikran in the air. The voice of Neteyam jolted you out of your thinking. “You know what?”

“Hmmm?” You mumbled, holding tightly onto his ikran’s neck.

"The thought of being back home excites me so much."

“Why is that? I thought you sought every opportunity to leave home to taste the adventure and beauty of the world," you questioned as you turned a little to look at him.

“That’s true, indeed. However, the mere thought of snuggling with you to sleep melts my heart," Neteyam replied as he moved his head slightly to kiss your lips. “Don't forget, this is just between us. It is likely Lo'ak would not leave me alone if he knows.”You knew he was right - Lo'ak was the first one to pick on his older brother, and if he only knew Neteyam had a soft side, he wouldn't give up so easily. “Don’t worry, I know.” Your palm rested on his cheek as you kissed his lips once more, a little longer this time. "Oeyä Neteyam, you mean the world to me."

Love was a protector, a defender, a ride-or-die connection that was there for you always and in every way. It had raw power and could roar, but also, you would find comfort in its quietness, if needed. In the end, the real love you were sharing with Neteyam was the greatest blessing Eywa could grant you, and so you chose to cherish it.

Glossary:

yerik - hexapede

kenten - fan lizard

ikran - mountain banshee

ionar - rider’s mask

oeyä yawntu - my beloved

oeyä - my

yawntutsyìp - darling

nga yawne lu oer - I love you

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs | Fire Island Fics (1970s Era)

An assortment of fics prominently featuring Fire Island and/or the 70s era… not necessarily together. Some time travel or fics that span decades including the 70s or Fire Island adjacent.

✨ Show the authors some love with your comments and kudos after reading. Likes are lovely, but please reblog this post to share this content with your mutuals! ✨

🔥 Only Himself to Blame [E, 1K] by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) An evening out leads to some fun on the floor.

🏝️ Balls deep [E, 2K] by @carnivalrow | nightfall_in_winter Sorry, but that coked up threesome from Episode 7 refused to leave me. Exploring what Hawk really wanted that night... Added a Chapter 2 that shows Tim's perspective.

🔥 gold-skinned, eager baby [E, 10K] by @lispenard-street | lispenardstreet Tim sets out for Fire Island with a single goal: to dig Hawk out of his pit of self-destruction.

As it turns out, Hawk is after something else entirely.

A 1979 fix-it… of sorts.

🏝️ Just Like Church [E, 12K] by @bre1995 | bre_thomas & @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) It starts with a postcard. With Skippy, I need you. It starts with Tim arriving on Fire Island. Where it goes, only the Island knows.

A retelling of White Nights, with some tweaks.

🔥 'I Look at You' [E, 2K] by @bre1995 | bre_thomas Tim and Hawk have an intimate and peaceful conversation over dinner. When old feelings start creeping back in.

🏝️ I'm Sorry [M, 8K] 💠 by arrowtheapollo Set on Fire Island in the 1970s. Tim finds his way back home after the T party, and he and Hawk have a heart-to-heart that they should've had years ago.

🔥 I Have You [NR, 1K]  by @beyondxmeasure | Cyantific  After receiving a cryptic postcard, and hearing from Lucy that Hawk's in trouble, Tim takes a trip back east to find out for himself.

A different version of the events that unfold on Fire Island, told from Tim's perspective.

🏝️ To Have And To Hold [M, 945] 💠 by Joycee What could have happened between Hawk’s breakdown and the talk with Tim by the pool on Fire Island.

🔥 a place to be [E, 5K] by @satelarry | satelarry Tim and Hawk spend a week at their house in Fire Island. The brown haired man's been fantasizing about something that his boyfriend is happy to oblige.

🏝️ this time imperfect [M, 16K] by @startagainbuttercup | startagainbuttercup 1986. Marcus arrives at Hawk's house and gives him a box. Marcus doesn't know that the paperweight in the box is a time traveling device. Will Hawk change anything, given the chance? We'll see.

🔥 My Friend Tim [G, 2K] 💠 by Joycee Hawk’s explanation to Lucy & Kimberly when he returned from Fire Island.

🏝️ something i can't go without [E, 8K] by @satelarry | satelarry Hawk goes to Fire Island to escape dealing with his feelings, but that isn't far away from Tim's kind heart.

Perhaps he doesn't want it to be.

Or, The Meat Rack AU.

🔥 It's more than just words, it's just tears and rain [E, 2K] by @fuddlewuddle | Fuddlewuddle “Why didn’t you let me just carry on trying to drink myself to death?”

Tim jolts from the doze he’d start to fall into it at Hawk’s question, brow furrowing as his sleep fuzzy brain tries to process the words; before sitting up suddenly, because what the fuck?

🏝️ There's no place I'd rather you be than with me. [E, 719]  by @in-our-special-place | Cupping_Cakes

Their embrace was raw and primal, fueled by the angst of wanting each other but being afraid to admit it.

🔥 in the night when I start to miss you [E, 2K] by @alorchik | alorchik One night, a shared fantasy, and two souls, entwined across time and space.

🏝️ Constant Craving Has Always Been [M, 4K] by @kayleebye | kayleebye I've always wondered what happened between Hawk and Tim after their heart-to-heart poolside in episode 7. This is my version of what transpired between them after they left the poolside and the next morning when they had a big fight and Tim says "It meant nothing to you. Everything we said last night. Everything we have been through...." and storms out.

🔥 too late to run for cover [NR, 3K] by @promise-you-wont-write | masterwords Lucy's done with Hawk's drinking and tells him to leave, so he buys a house on Fire Island and decides to fully integrate into the lifestyle at great detriment to his own well-being.

Part 1 of and so with the sunshine: the fire island chronicles

🏝️ to share a kiss the devil has known [NR, 8K] by @promise-you-wont-write | masterwords After the loss of his son, Hawk is dancing close to total self-destruction and begging for Tim to come to him. It takes everything in Tim to say no, to keep his distance, but how long can that possibly last?

Part 2 of and so with the sunshine: the fire island chronicles

🔥 nowhere's home and i'm all wrong [M, 3K] by @promise-you-wont-write | masterwords Hawk wants to make dinner for Tim in order to convince him that everything is fine, when it's clearly not. He can only keep up the facade for so long. Part 3 of and so with the sunshine: the fire island chronicles

🏝️ Spaces Between Us [T, 3K] by @beyondxmeasure | Cyantific Hawk finally opens up about Jackson, and Tim gives him a bit of tough love advice. An extended scene, if you will, or a canon-divergent exploration of the late-night poolside conversation.

Part 1 of Fire Island Ever After

🔥 Pretty Weeds [T, 7K] by @beyondxmeasure | Cyantific Hawk has really put Tim through the emotional wringer this weekend, and he seems far too nice to deserve any of it. Rafael tries his best to give his new friend a warm send-off and a few words of wisdom.

Or, the walk to the ferry from Rafael's POV. Chapter Two: Rafael gives Hawk some tough love after he returns from seeing Tim off on the ferry.

🏝️ hold on (i'm coming) [NR, 2K] by @promise-you-wont-write | masterwords Hawk's nightly phone calls become increasingly desperate until Tim has no choice but to go to him.

🔥 Craig [E, 2K]💠 by arlenejp Craig was searching for another male to love but found Hawkins Fuller. I had to fill out this person's story a bit so we could understand more about why Craig was around Hawk on Fire Island.

(Not Quite) Fire Island, Adjacent and other 70s Era Fics

🔥 Cutting this short would be most logical option [T, 4K] by @timothydavidlaughlin | mauralabingi It's a lovely day in 1980 and Tim's enjoying a quiet day off. Then there's a knock on his door.

🏝️ He tried---He really tried. But Lost. [E, 6K] by @arlenejp | arlenejp Since there is no backstory as to who or what Craig is, I decided to write something about him. Something about his feelings toward Hawk and their Fire Island escapades.

🔥 Don't leave it to the last dance [M, 2K] by @fuddlewuddle | Fuddlewuddle Tim is in hospital. Hawk brings him his mail. One letter is not like the others.

🏝️ a man i once knew [T, 3K] 💠 by vexinganthony It was the sort of love you read about in novels, none of which Tim had read, but he didn’t need to. He still felt it in his bones, a feeling so potent and alive in his blood, in every breath that he took, every beat of his heart.

It called out just one name.

The name of the man currently standing mere feet away from him with his wife and daughter.

Or, Tim and hawk find themselves at a charity gala in 1974.

🔥 Too old to play (and too young to mess around) [M, 60K] by @bejeweledmp3 | ninav Kimberly Fuller goes on a two-week vacation to San Francisco, in which she: drinks excessive amounts of tea, gets betrayed, cries more than she should, eats donuts, and seeks out truth with the help of a man she only knows from a presentation card; not necessarily in that order.

But mostly, she finds her father in every least expected place. And learns to make her peace with what that means.

🏝️ we'll be on the road like Jack Kerouac [M, 4K] by @jesterlesbian | captainquint He tried to think of what Tim would do or say. The man who had only spoken to his son a handful of times over one weekend in 1968, but had seemed to understand him far better than Hawk ever had.

The business card felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket.

An idea burst to life in Hawk’s mind. This was an emergency if he’d ever seen one.

“What would you say to coming with me to San Francisco?”

Or, Hawk and Jackson go on a cross-country road trip to San Francisco.

🔥 I Reach for You (And You Bring Me Home) [M, 1K] by @misstwentyynine | misstwentyynine In 1952, Hawk and Tim meet for the first time at a bar located in the enigmatic paradise of Fire Island, forging a powerful connection that continues to bring them together as their story progresses through space and time.

Or, The San Junipero AU

🏝️ The Crumbling Beard [M, 30K] 💠 by AnonymouslyUnknown1900 What was happening with Lucy while Hawk was with Tim for who knows how long in San Francisco? What was going through her mind during the days of no contact with Hawk? What eventually caused her to divorce the man she's been married to for 31 years?

After a phone call with her distant brother (who is now a porn producer) Leonard, everything ends up coming together. Videos from "Fire Island", and other discoveries that the two siblings made after reuniting is unearthed, which not only causes them to bond closer, but it puts a permanent end to Hawk's relationship and ties to the Smiths.

🔥 Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps It’s Real [NR, 35K] 💠 by drabbleswabbles And then it happened. The metallic screech of the gate, the shuffle of men stepping out beyond the prison walls. And suddenly there he was. His hair was shorter than he’d ever seen it. And his glasses were different. But it was him. Their eyes met. Tim stared at him in wide-eyed shock before recognition melted his features into a confused outrage.

Basically a fix-it in which Hawk finds himself back in the early 70s.

But wait... there's more! Check out Part Two here.

💠 Authors: If your tumblr (or other socials) isn't linked, and you'd like it to be, let me know and I'll be happy to add it. Or, if you're linked already, and you'd rather not be, please contact me to remove it.

[teyvat-inks]

gamble of a lifetime

sia: wooooo happy birthday to my ever babygirl, aventurine!! this has sat in my drafts for like a month bc i can't really put my thoughts into words ! but anyway, just in time for his birthday tehee :> have a great day, guys!

content: aventurine x gn!reader (as always). make me yours or something kinda fic. kissing!! 608 words.

“It’s like my dear gambler is asking me to unwrap him carefully like a precious gift, unravel his deepest secrets as I explore the depths of his soul. A silent plea of his desire to be seen, understood, claimed, and freed.” Your voice is smooth and soft, drawing him in, matching with the tantalizing gaze you hold on the Avgin boy sitting pretty on the casino table, directing all your attention on him. The private casino room he reserved for this ‘fun and friendly’ game with you is engulfed by silence, only the heavy breathing can be heard. The dim lights illuminate his features from above, making the man in front of you exude a sultry air, his vivid-colored orbs observing your every move.

“For a veteran, you sure do lack the courage to gamble on this one.” You take one step forward, taking another and another until you gradually invade his space, “Allow me to make you an offer, one you can’t refuse.”

Aventurine is taken aback by the way you used his words against him, his mouth hanging slightly agape but quickly masking it with his signature smirk.

“You’ll give me your heart,” you speak with much confidence, voice remaining resolute as you add, “Not only will you take my soul, but you’ll take my forever too.” 

An enticing smile spreads across your features. “Surely, you do not wish to miss out on this gamble of a lifetime?”

Surrender your heart to me and I will offer you my endless devotion. 

His gloved hand reaches for your waist, fingers digging through the fabric of your dress shirt, slowly dragging you in and caging you between his legs. His voice comes out in a hushed whisper, his determined gaze piercing through your soul. “And trust me, this is one gamble I will definitely win.” A tingle runs down your spine, your heartbeat racing with ardor. His proximity allows his perfume to take over your senses, making you slightly lightheaded.

“Just one request, darling,” he murmurs, his lips an even breath away from yours, his words making your heart miss a beat in anticipation. “Can I claim what’s mine right now?”

You lean into his touch, allowing him to devour your lips with all his pent-up desires and frustrations. Your other hand gently creeps up to cradle the side of his face while the other settles on his arm. You hum in contentment, smiling into the kiss as his lips mold with yours perfectly and in sync. After all, you have waited far too long for the boundary to be finally crossed, everything you have built over time is all at risk. Whether this blooms into a lifetime of happiness with each other and whether it falls apart, foretells an eternity of sorrow and mourning for the demise of your entwined hearts—only time will tell.

“This is a gamble worth taking, right?” he mumbles softly after pulling away, his eyes locking with yours once more, admiring the blush that paints your cheeks. A smirk reaches his lips, “You sure you’re not on the losing end with your wager? Is my heart the only thing you ever ask of me?” 

“My dear, I have lost from you long ago. The only option is to gamble everything that’s left of me, bust or take it all. It so happens that your heart is the one I am most eager to possess.” Your fingers fiddle with the ends of his hair as you meet the heat of his gaze with your pleading ones.

Aventurine flashes you a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with glee. “Yours, my dear.” 

All or nothing, indeed.

[hoeforhao]

Most Ardently // Wonwoo Fic //

✧. pairing: professor!wonwoo × student fem!reader (featuring mingyu and dino)

✧. genre: fluff, mild angst? very short smut(as i wanted to keep this as a pure emotional fic) minors dni, lots of pining and comfort at the end.

✧. warnings: nothing heavy, just a very slow burning romance based around my favorite novel, slight mentions of a yandere ex boyfriend,use of swear words, joking use of the word k!ll.

✧. synopsis: what happens when your one night stand becomes your new literature professor, taking both of you down a blissful lane of old school love.

✧. word count: 3.2k (approx)

✧.banner credits: to the sweetest @classicscreations

✧. author's note: as wonwoo fluff+smut won in the 50 followers poll, here it is finally. although it became more of an angsty fluff(i absolutely suck at writing puppy romance). hope y'all will enjoy it and if this gets some love, i'll bring out its prequel. last but not the least, if you enjoyed my writing then...

Likes, comments and reblogs will be heartily appreciated ♡

and on page 157 she fell in love...

"Love"~ a word meaningful only between the withered folds of literature, luring one into the Georgian haze.Realistically tho, finding a love that will entwine both soul and mind, seep through your cracks and reconcile the cores, is as strange as a diffident person like you getting raveled into a one night stand.

Quite literally clawing out your scalp, ensuring the inevitable headache later on, you kept on asking yourself, what made you so wild to sleep with a random ass stranger, that too on the night before fall semester started??!!!! The guilt clouded your mind so much so that the trance had to be broken by mingyu's hard slap on your shoulder.

"Are you dead or what idiot? The new professor's been here for over a minute now and called out your name almost seventeen times" the tall idiot sitting beside you, nearly howled into your ears.

Before the count could hit eighteen, you quickly pried up from your seat, taking a glance at the man standing in the teacher's place.

Why does his face look so familiar? That same hairstyle with heart shaped strands sticking to the forehead, those harry pottery glasses overshadowing the cat eyes, his exact little stubby nose and most importantly the bewitching plump dahlia lips.

No way it's who I think it is!!! It's definitely the hangover towering. How can he be -

"Ms y/n?"a soft hushed voice called out, pulling your train of thoughts to a sudden halt,"Mr Bennett handed over your thesis to me before he left." Only a single nod left your body as you took over the file and made your way back to the place beside the giant sized puppy,body completely washed off by an unknown tingling sensation.

"Morning students!! I'm your new literature professor from now,Jeon Wonwoo. Mr Bennett's knowledge and aura are indeed irreplaceable but still I'll try my best to bring out the beauty of literature to you guys." the man spoke, eyes a bit tensed up yet briming with a certain sort of joy.

Throughout the entire lesson, your beads were fixated onto your teacher ; as a person who would never let their focus sway, specially in literature classes, you now didn't even know what chapter the class was going through.

"Looks like someone is enchanted huh" your annoying ass bestfriend pushes you a little from the back as the entire class gets ready to head out for lunch.

"Y/n?" you hear the same raspy voice seek out your name. "Go go! Your prince is calling you!!" mingyu teases you again with a mocking smile on his face.

"Utter a single word after this, and I'll make sure you walk reverse footed the entire week" you stomp on his feet before turning around to listen to what your teacher had to ask.

"Yes sir?" you coo out softly, trying to make your racing heart less obvious.

"Meet me at my office after lunch. We need to discuss on your thesis."

"But I already submitted it to Mr Bennett once,then why again?"

"He ran short of time,while packing things up and couldn't scrutinize the papers properly, so now I'm in charge." jeon said as politely as possible.

"Okay sir. I'll be there in an hour"

"You can call me wonwoo" a light smile painted the older's face as he made your cheeks flush bright red with the comment.

Swirling around on your heels, you swiftly made your way out the room, not wanting to flash him with your blushing profile.

Stomping your feet in impatience and somewhat a little bit of anxiety, you wait for your beanstalk of a best friend to choose his drink from the vending machine.

"You're not choosing a wife Kim Mingyu. Hurry the fuxk up pls"

"Getting that worked up for a four eyed nerd! What a loser!!" mingyu spat out, while he bended down to collect his can.

"Says the one who has been bitchless since the cracking dawn of civilization. Oh wait you need to have human traits to get a partner, not that of chimpanzees" you spank his butt from absolute annoyance.

With a loud 'ouch' and his characteristic puppy eyes, mingyu rises up from his position and hurriedly drops you off at wonwoo's office door, otherwise who knows what more parts of him you'll break.

Cold sweats dripping down your face, you stand still at his door, an unfamiliar feeling shivering down your spine as you slowly bring up your hands to knock on the knob.

"M-may I come in sir?" why is it that you're shaking so much, is strange to you too. You haven't ever felt like this,not even when you met your bitchass ex for the first time.

"What are you doing to me jeon wonwoo" you whisper under your breath before stepping into the gloomy wooden space,following the green light from him.

Sitting yourself comfortably on the swiveling chair infront of his desk, you wait for wonwoo to speak up, legs shaking uncontrollably beneath the stilted plank.

"Welcome y/n. As far as I'm knowledged, your thesis is on Georgian Era pieces, and you've chosen Pride and Prejudice as your muse right?"

You just hmm in response, words refusing to leave your body, as you feel drugged by his honey voice.

"Let's get you started then" his eyes sparkling like fireworks.

Completely engrossed into your work, you almost became unaware of wonwoo's presence in the same room as you, posture quite stable now; oblivious of how quickly that composure is gonna get washed off of your body.

"Si-" picking up your head from the paper, you tried to call out his name as you needed some help with the summary, only to feel a hot breath fanning on your neck, his soft nose brushing againt your skin, as he stretches out his hand to the book infront of you.

"How many times have i told you to call me wonwoo, huh berrybub" the older's voice wooed into your system,his other hand gently tucking in the lose strands behind your ears.

"W-wonwoo can you r-read out this verse to me pls? I can't make out few parts of it" you were yourself astonished at how stable you sounded, completely ignorant of the shiver running down your spine.

"Anything for you y/n" wonwoo spoke out again,his wet lips lightly grazing against your cheeks, as he pulled the book into his hands and took his place back on the chair.

The rest of the session was as quite as a viva room, with him occasionally stealing glances at you, while you kept your eyes fixed onto the table.

An entire week went by like this, where wonwoo would read out the piece to you as you wrote your papers, with a regular comment of "if you keep staring at me like that y/n, then I fear we would be able to submit your work in time" from him. But that one suspicion refused to leave your mind no matter how much you tried.

Strolling down the hallway like a happy puppy, forgetful of all the worries with this newfound feeling of warmth and butterflies, you made your way towards the restroom, when suddenly a hand pulled you back into a dark corner.

"C-chan! What are you doing!" looking up at who this man was, you started feeling heavy in the head almost instantly, chest heaving up and down at the rate of a storm . It was no other than your yandere ex boyfriend, who cheated on you with your cousin sister!!!!

"Missed me princess?" his hands roaming all over your body as he pinned you down to the wall, a dirty feeling gushing over your entire body.

"It's over between us Chan. You knew that I would forgive anything but cheating. And you did the exact same thing. That too with Angie? Pathetic!!!" tears building up in your eyes as you try to sound as confident as possible. "And moreover, I don't think I have feelings for you anymore. Maybe it was never even love"

"Oh such a naive girl you are! You really think i give a shit about your feelings and all?" a devilish grin flashing on his face as Chan brings his lips closer to yours, hands gripping onto your waist tightly.

Your body was starting to give up, tears continously streaming down your face as you kept on praying for him to stop. But this is the 21st century, and God only helps those who help themselves. Coring up all the strength left in your body, you brought up your legs and karate kicked him on his groin.

A painful whimper left Chan's lips as he held onto his throbbing manhood, while you took this chance to run away from his grasp.

Running down the corridors, that now seemed to be endless, with his voice echoing through the walls "I'll not let you go off that easily bitch. Come back here", you tightly shut your eyes closed, desperately waiting for someone to save you from this nightmare.

And looks like the heavens finally listened to your helpless pleas as you felt a pair of bulky arms wrapping around your body like a warm blanket, pulling you into a bleak rim. Both9f your frames sandwiched against each other, hearts beating in unison, as your trembling body was now being warmed with the heat radiating off of you two.

You slowly look up at the man who saved you from that lunatic ex of yours; not like you already didn't recognize him from the strong scent of his cologne. Yes, you were unconsciously so in love with this boy, that you even remembered his smell.

As soon as your eyes met with wonwoo's, the first thing you noticed was some sort of burning rage in him, a fire powerful enough to burn down an entire forest in just a matter of few seconds.

"Wonw-" he didn't even let you finish your sentence before pulling you into the tightest hug, resting his head on the crook of your neck as he mouthed "I'll make sure to destroy anyone who dares to stain this blissful face of yours with teardrops, to lay even a single finger on your body", with an unreadable tone of anger yet sadness.

You hugged him back as tight not knowing what to say, completely taken aback by this sudden comment. Losing consciousness of what just happened with you just few moments back, you two kept on bear hugging each other as if it was the last day the Earth's gonna revolve 'round the sun, with wonwoo being the first to let go.

"I-i am sorry" that's the last thing you heard from him before he left you standing so empty in the dark, mind clouded with a bunch of unanswered questions.

"How can he leave like nothing happened, after what he did that day?" is the only thing that kept eating you out for the next few days, as you kept attending your college, both of you never crossing paths since the incident. Wonwoo didn't even show up to the classes, which surely was of no help to your intense craving. But you were highly stubborn yourself ; if he could ignore those close moments between you both so easily, you could too.

Another strange thing that bugged you was that Chan was never seen in the college campus after that day, ever again. Even his classmates failed to contact him anymore!!!

Throwing away these negative thoughts outta your head, you were strolling down the gallery, all ready to go back home as you suddenly took a halt before wonwoo's office. It was open and left unattended. You don't know what took over you and you entered the same place that gave you so many warm memories. With a silent sigh and sullen face, you carefully inspected the interiors, running your fingers along the places that were stained with his scent.

"Y/n?" the voice your ears have been longing for all these days, disrupted your probe midway. Turning around, your eyes immediately landed onto the figure standing at the door, the one your heart now beats for; at that moment all you wanted was to run to him, pull him into the warmest embrace and never let go.

But your self respect and self doubt was chaining you down, as you lifted up your feet slowly to leave the room, head hanging down low. "Sorry won- I mean sir. Sorry for intervening into your space. I'll be taking my leave"

"Don't! pls!" a muffled voice echoed around the room"W-we need to finish your project. I don't want you to fail because of me."

"It's okay sir. I can do it by myself. Thanks for all you've done for me till now" you blurt out quite sternly, with a hint of underlying taunt.

"P-pls" a sudden change of tone was evident in wonwoo's voice, as if he was on the verge of crying, which was enough to melt your composure. I mean who would want to see their loved ones cry because of them right?!

He guided you to your seat as he swiveled his own towards yours and sat right in front of you,with just a few inches gap between the two.

With a drooped down head, wonwoo pulled out the book from his drawer and took out a kitten shaped bookmark from the last done page. You lightly chuckled at the older's choice of stationary, while bringing out your thesis file.

"Let's start. Only some part is left" eyes still not daring to look at you , he started reading out the last few chapters of the piece, while keeping his gaze fixed between the folds.

Turning the pages to the one marked 157, wonwoo's voice came to a stall, slowly picking up his head from the book,his feline beads finally landed onto yours, hazed by a soft yet painful daze. Wonwoo soon started to read out again, but this time instead of looking at the book, he was looking at you, with a mixed expression of agony blended with intense pining.

"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

Even though your mind wanted to go by the reason that it was just a line from the novel, your heart exactly knew what he meant. You wanted to let him know how much you loved him too, how much your soul craved for his, how long you've waited for this one moment....but you couldn't! A strange feeling of unjust kept you from running to his arms at that instant; so instead you got up from your chair and twirled around to leave the room as quickly as possible.

"Pls y/n pls don't leave me. Again!" two pair of arms wrapped around your waist tightly, immediately stopping you on your track. "You don't know how happy I was when I got to see you again that morning. I couldn't sleep for nights as i kept on squealing thinking about your smile lit face.You came into my life as the brightest ray when I lost all hope. Pls don't push me into the dark again."

Your heart clenched at the sound of soft sobs coming from your back, as you swiftly turned on your heels, only to be a met with a teary eyed wonwoo.

"I-it was you that night wonwoo?"drops now threatening to slide down your eyes. "They say the heart knows it all. No wonder why it always kept telling me that it was you" you said while wiping off the tears of his pale face.

"I've wanted to have you by my side since the moment you held my hand and pulled me into that hotel" closing the gap between you two as he softly placed his lips on yours ; pulling both being into a soft yet passionate kiss as you reverted back to him with equal thirst.

Grip never leaving your waist, he finally lets go of your lips, as you two gasped for some air, face all stained with fresh hot tears. Not long after, he attacks your face again, but this time painting it with affectionate sloppy kisses all over, as if a lost kitten found their home after days. He couldn't get enough of your body, as his wet lips gradually started going down your jaw and landing onto your shoulder, imprinting his teeth onto them.

Wonwoo gave a small tap on your legs and getting his intentions straight away, you quickly wrapped your legs around his torso, as he carried you towards the couch, unbuttoning your shirt in the mean time.

After he placed you onto the couch gently, sliding a cushion under your head, he carefully positioned himself on top of you.

"Can I?" soon afterward you gave him an assuring nod, wonwoo dived into your body, ripping off the white satin shirt of you, as he started placing wet sloppy kisses onto your chest. Fingers roaming around your clothed nipple, he swiftly freed your breasts off your bra and devoured them into his mouth ; earning soft alluring moans from you that were ringing like music to his ears.

Following a good thirty minutes of ravishing and worshiping your body, wonwoo finally plopped down on the couch, embracing you from behind as he pulled the covers over your bodies [do not ask me how a couch had covers pls]

"If you want you can leave me later, but please let's stay like this for some time" a whimper left his lips as he tightened the grasp around your belly.

Turning around to face him, you cupped his face onto your hands, rubbing your fingers onto his squishy cheeks as you softly assured, "Woo, I was smitten by you the exact day you came into our class. Maybe I couldn't properly recognize your face because of the alcohol, but my heart started longing for you since then. You have no idea on how hard I've tried not to fall, but look at me, I'm now head over heels for you. So don't even think about me leaving you, you dumbo. Neither are you allowed to leave, understood Mr!!" you flooff up your nostrils trying to imitate an angry puppy, earning the biggest flash of sunshine smile from bigger flooff beside you.

my darling,

you would never be unloved by me

you're too well tangled in my soul

finishing off your night with such a beautiful verse, you both drift off to deep slumber, entangled into each other's spirits.

[eirakairos]

Defying A God

Summary: You went to his realm and challenged Astra to a battle.

Pairing: Zayne x MC

Word Count: 2,279

A/N: A self-indulgent fic because out of all myths, Tower of Secrets got me badly. Zayne is my favorite, he reminds me of my partner. Just throw all the theories and canon out of the window in this one, I wrote this as a release. I just want Zayne to be happy and throw hands at Astra lol

Tags: Major character deaths, gods and goddesses, basically throwing hands at a god

“Such audacity and hubris for you to come here to demand an audience,” His voice resonated around the chamber walls of his throne.

A hooded woman was walking towards him, holding a staff. You can feel the cold around the chamber, with ice all around. You stopped halfway across and stood there. You lifted your head, you saw the man sitting on his throne, ice spikes decorated behind the sides.

“You do not need to speak, I know what you are here for,” He said as he rested his head on his hand. “For you, a mere being, to defy the threads of fate and reality… To defy a god!” he raised his voice and resonated louder. “Such ridiculous thinking of you all can fool a god!”

You removed your hood. “For thousands of years, you have caused nothing but inconvenience,”

“He defied his fate… He is only a tool, why are you putting such concern?” He flicked his fingers, and a circular glow beside him appeared. A figure of a man was formed and kneeled, his whole body immobilized by ice. He groaned in pain, trying to suppress it. Your eyes widened.

Zayne.

He was gone when he was supposed to meet you in the village. He served as an oracle there and you are a servant of his. You heard the legends of the gods, that oracles are the extension of the gods, that anytime their gods will claim them.

You left the village to pursue a new journey.

“He knows what he did,” the god said. “He knows the consequences. Humanity is such a fickle thing but to you… I’m intrigued… Out of all the countless lives, you managed to arrive here,”

“He is only a mortal, yet you place such a harsh punishment. They have the will to change their course,” you responded.

“Ah… It is a mystery to you… But not to me,” the god said. “Destiny is already placed the moment mortals breathe. It is the same to my foreseer, he will serve for eternity,” he looked at Zayne before looking back at you.

“The god Astra,” you said. “I wanted to do an exchange,” You looked at Zayne, who was shivering but seemed to want to tell you to leave. Astra hums. “And what can you offer?”

You breathe deeply. “A battle…” You prepared your staff. “If I drew blood from you, you will release him and set him free for eternity,”

“Wait-” Zayne whispered, his eyes widened.

“And if I didn’t, then it is what it is,” You looked at Zayne and smiled bitterly. “You can take my life… But my soul will do what it takes to get him back,”

There was silence and then a roar of laughter from Astra. “Are you challenging me to a battle?!” He said, amused. “The courage this lady has… I can extinguish your existence in a blink,” He stood up, summoning his staff. Zayne tries to move from his constraints.

“What are you doing?! Why?!” he said. “Why did you even dare to go here?!”

“Because she is more stubborn and brazen and she needs to learn her lesson,” the god said as he stood.

“For eternity, he and I’s destinies are entwined. He is suffering the most for eternity and was devoid of love!” You stated loudly, giving all of your grievances. You have witnessed the pain, the loneliness, the restraint he has to do, just for you, and only you. He saw death and became death, his affections are all hidden, all agendas, all limited.

Your memories blossomed up like the jasmines he planted, all the memories intact in the white flowers.

You remembered waking up near the tree and his presence was not there, his life falling and melting like snow.

You remembered going up to the tower and seeing him covered in crystallized ice. He never forgot you, he chose to set you free. He gave and served his life with you, his love is caged and dealt with infinite punishment.

You remembered his dreams, your dreams, the duty he has to uphold despite being painted as a lonely man, a killer… The fact he admires you in his dreams.

In every life he had, only small snippets of happy memories that accost him much more.

“You will never understand the order!” Astra’s voice boomed. “He is only a tool, a servant! He has no purpose other than that! A messenger of the divine! The curse is a reminder of his place,”

You hold your staff tight in anger. “Then, I will defy the order. I will fight the gods for him!”

You can feel Zayne wanted to scream how a fool you are for questioning fate and the gods.

The god huffed and prepared his staff. “A foolish endeavor. But I will accept your invitation of battle,”

Zayne is struggling, wanting to set himself free, but Astra moves his hand, causing ice to form on him, causing him to grunt in pain.

Your anger increased witnessing Zayne in pain. “This will be haste,” Astra said as he rushed in lightning speed.

Zayne screamed your name as Astra approached you. You shield yourself with a staff, and light bursts from you, illuminating the entire room. Astra smirked, thinking you burst into light and to nothingness, ending your life. You glared at him, seeing your hood disintegrated, revealing your ethereal white robes with sapphire and jasmine ornaments. You pushed Astra and raised your staff, white spikes appeared on him.

“You…!” he said, astonished. Zayne was shocked as well. The god did retain his composure.

“An… An unexpected event for a moon goddess to grace her presence!” Astra said, dispelling ice with a wave of his staff. “A goddess in the guise of a mortal,” This confirms to himself the audacity of you to do this.

“Why him?” He asked. “Why my servant?”

You looked at Zayne and smiled as if hoping he would understand your apologies why you kept this from him. “Because… He deserves better,” You answered. “Even without me, he deserves happiness and love,”

You strike your staff, summoning strong winds. “And that’s something you will never understand!” You rushed towards Astra and he summoned ice to retaliate.

Zayne watches the two gods fighting. He was panting from the pain but he has to keep you away from danger. A goddess served him… Loved him. If the fates would be kind, he would choose to serve you. He wished he would serve you instead. In his heart, he is your goddess, even without learning you truly are one.

Despite being a goddess, the god Astra is strong. Attacks of ice and blades are everywhere, you are determined to hit him to draw blood to win the wager. In your journey as a goddess, you hear stories of him in many lifetimes. In many lifetimes you have met him, loved him, and left without any answers. You went to achieve godhood and to finish Zayne’s torment. He always experiences suffering in every life, and it pains you to witness that, even in this life. You wanted to finish this once and for all. 

Zayne screamed in pain as Astra summoned ice in his heart. The scream made you alert. You cast a wall of water on Astra, which divides you and him, so you can go and check on Zayne to dispel it.

“Zayne, are you okay? Hold on, I’ll heal you,” you said in worry. Zayne wanted to respond but he was in much pain.

Astra saw your determination, but he wanted to finish this foolish charade. He transforms the water into ice and summons shards towards you. You only gasped and barely grabbed your staff to summon back when a body covered you as it struck. 

You gasped in horror. 

“Zayne!” You struck your staff and the ice disappeared and you moved forward to catch the falling man.

“H-Hey!” you looked at him and his wounds. The damage is deadly, you can see Zayne getting paler.

“I have won, little goddess!” Astra laughed.

Astra is reeling with his victory, until… A cut appeared on his cheek, and blood was drawn. His eyes widened, realizing your summon of ice was able to get to him, making him immobilized.

You felt anger, worry, and sadness, all at once. You are trying to heal Zayne, hoping there is a chance. “No, it's no use… It’s fine,” Zayne said weakly. “I have no regrets doing this for you, over and over again…” he smiled. You start to become weary as you see his life draining away. “Your end of the bargain, Astra! I drew blood!” You yelled angrily as you cried, cradling Zayne’s head. 

Astra is definitely angry, he can’t believe the goddess did it. But he gave his word as a god and has to retain that order. He removed the blood from his cheek as it quickly healed and flicked his fingers. “It is done, my end of the bargain,” he said. He will never understand this pursuit. “He does not have the curse and is free,”

You thought of reviving Zayne, as you placed your hand. But Zayne stopped you by holding it with his hand. “Even for a goddess, you know there is order… I can’t let you defy that. You did enough, dear,” he coughed. “I don’t understand either why a goddess had taken notice of me… In my eyes, you are one even when you are mortal. But I’m honored,” You can’t stop crying, you've seen this in many lives, but it is painful every time.

“Don’t cry… It’s okay… In our eventual meeting, I’ll… I can tell you how I feel,” Zayne reassured. 

You sniffed, and your hand went to caress his cheek. He is getting colder and his pulse is getting slower. He smiled as his hand went to wipe your tears. “The moon really is beautiful…” Zayne says.

His hand suddenly stops and falls. You catch it, place it back on your cheek, and mourn. Despite being a goddess and having a healthy heart, you felt it broke in being apart now from him.

Astra saw all of the destinies Zayne and you did, but this one he is witnessing is different. “Living without him… Even if I live forever, it is no use,” You said. “You are being more foolish by that statement,” Astra said. “Infinite power, omniscience, and immortality being wasted for a mere mortal!”

You remained silent and placed your hand on Zayne’s chest. You start to glow with him. “I promise you, my dear… The moon will shine on you, I will be beside you… I will love you for eternity, I will love you wherever we will be… You will not be in pain and suffering anymore. Only happiness and full of sweets as much as you desire. A goddess’ promise it shall be…”

You smiled as you looked at Zayne, you closed your eyes as you two slowly transformed into jasmines.

Astra stood there, seeing the flowers he had placed your memories with Zayne into many lives ago. “Such fools think they can break destiny…” He can’t believe a goddess using all of her vitality just for a simple wish to be with a mortal. He stared at the flowers, before he flicked his fingers, the snowy wind carried the jasmines to the moonless sky.

“Your heart has been under stress lately due to your excessive Evol usage,” he said as he read your chart. “Because of this, I will recommend less working hours for you to rest more,”

“Zayne-” You interjected but he stared at you sternly. You sighed and resigned. “Alright, alright…”

“Okay,” Zayne said. “Since that is out of the way, the moon festival is this weekend,” he said and looked away. “Maybe you can accompany me as I have taken an extended leave,”

“You’re off work? Why?” you said, astonished. “This rarely happens to Doctor Zayne,” you teased.

“Well, I have thought of it, we never went to the moon festival,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to go there but wasn’t able to… And I do want… To spend more time with you,” he continued, his cheeks showing a faint blush.

You smiled, both excited and touched by his invitation. “Of course, I’ll go with you,”

You are exhilarated in seeing the busy town for the moon festival. Zayne and you traveled for two hours. This is one of the times you two are going on a leisure trip and not for business. You are clinging onto Zayne’s arm as you two see a good spot for moon viewing. Your partner is very reserved, yet he always shows you affection in many ways in private. He is very subtle, but it is a love like no other.

“The legend says that a moon goddess fell in love with a mortal and made a way to remove his curse,” Zayne said. “She became the moon after sacrificing her godhood,”

“Do you think sacrificing her goddess form for him is worth it?” You asked. Zayne hummed. “I like to think so… Maybe for her, if she can’t be with the one she loves, it feels like death,” You nodded and hummed.

Zayne is staring at the illuminating moon above. You saw how fascinated he was. Then he looks at you, smiling. “The moon is beautiful tonight… You are beautiful,” He then looked away then at you again. “I…” he spoke more but was covered by the noise of the crowd gathering for the ceremony nearby, yet you heard it loud and clear. You blush as his face gets closer, your lips touching with his.

[gomzdrawfr]

Gravity

this is a short fic of my oc Raven and Price, feel free to ignore this :] it's properly tagged ((I hope)) anyways if you do read it do lmk how you feel about it :3

word count: 917

Tags: angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers, unrequited love, emotional hurt/comfort, character development and introspection of Raven, complicated relationships, pinning, idiots in love, Raven is simping real hard ngl, Raven is bad at feelings, so is Price, stolen quotes, brief mention of violence, author has not written fics in months

notes: Blue is Raven, Green is Price, Italics can be Raven's own thought or a third perspective thing

Maybe that’s what love is, finding the one person capable of utterly destroying you, but won’t

As this realization dawned on her, fear gripped her heart.

Not sure when it all happened, how it happened in the first place. A weapon like her capable of feeling something, a dormant part of her, long forgotten and locked away in the deepest part of herself, now comes spilling out, and she barely can keep them at bay.

This is why you never play with your food.

Perhaps the moment of realization came one night when she decided to observe him, as she often did, but this time it was different.

Instead of the usual sight of the Captain entering his office and burying himself in paperwork, accompanied by the sight of smoke from the cigars he favored (four in a night, to be exact), she saw a disheveled man. He stumbled into the room, one hand clutching a bottle, and collapsed onto the nearest sofa.

Drunk, that much is clear.

She found herself smiling behind the scope, a smile she quickly wiped away.

Focus. 

And so she did, her gaze tracing over his tousled, unkempt hair, the scarf on his neck that had shifted slightly and fallen off, revealing a trail of freckles cascading down from his cheek. Her eyes wandered down his back to his waist—how could a man his size have such a small waist?

But her favorite? His hands.

Rough, calloused, and adorned with faint traces of pink and green on his knuckles. His left hand, in particular, had a subtle prominence of veins, now loosely gripping the bottle.

What day was it to get this drunk?

She stepped closer.

When did she get into the office again?

Carefully stepping over the scattered papers and books near the sofa, she carefully squatted down, and gently placed her hand next to his on the floor.

Warm. Always so warm.

She felt the heat emanating from his palm, tempting her to hold it.

Perhaps she could, considering he seemed unlikely to wake anytime soon.

Despite her initial indifference toward this man, the Lieutenant now turned Captain she was supposed to kill, she couldn’t deny the growing curiosity she had for him. 

It’ll pass. She thinks.

It only gets worse, the more she watches him and the more they occasionally go throat to throat with each other, more things and feelings start bubbling up.

Suffocating, distracting….addicting.

This unexplained attraction that has now gone beyond mere curiosity and interest has fallen into a deep pit of attachment and want.

A dangerous development, one that she comes to realize all too late. 

It’s a mixture of frustration and anticipation, unsettled for the uncertainty and possibilities, on another, the inner beast clawing in the deep part of her chest that screams the need for something.

It wasn’t love, or was it?

Is love supposed to feel like this? The feeling of someone extending their hands into an open wound, a sliver of a hole that somehow cracked open, allowing them to touch the most broken, delicate part of their soul that had long been forgotten.

In all honesty, he had done nothing, if their banters and conflicts counted as nothing. 

A not-so-distant memory bubbled up. 

“Tell me why I shouldn't put a bullet through that pretty head of yours, Raven,”

Price's voice was a harsh whisper, his fingers entwined in her hair, forcing her to meet his burning gaze.

That same old glare, always in control wasn’t he? 

“Growing a beard out, Pricey? It suits you” Price’s eyes widened for a split second, wavered even, before he regained composure.

Not as controlled as he would like to be whenever it’s her.

“How the hell did you kno- never mind that- answer the que-” “The hat sucks though,” she interrupted, a smirk playing on her lips. Another moment of silence, the cold feeling of the muzzle digging into her chin, but the grip on her hair loosened ever so slightly. “Does it actually?” “Yes” “Hm, guess I’ll wear it more often then” She couldn't stifle her amusement, even if she tried.

If he wanted to, he would have pulled the trigger a long time ago, and yet here they are.

Dancing around fire, blades and gunpowder like a couple of moths.

Both yearning for more, even if they know things will go up in flames.

She supposed, if she truly were to die in his hand, perhaps it would be worth it. 

Because death sure has gentle, ocean eyes. 

A grunt pulled her out of the memory as she returned to reality, it seemed the drunk Captain somehow managed to turn around and lay on the couch with the side of his face pressed onto the couch. How can he be comfortable like that? The sight made her chuckle lightly, as she leaned forward and brushed his hair away. The loose strands moved ever so slightly, soft in her hands, and she watched as the lines and wrinkles smoothed from the gesture.

I'm letting it happen aren’t I?

I’m going to let you love me, just as much as I love you, and let it ruin me. 

She planted a small kiss on his forehead, her lips remained for a few moments selfishly on the warm skin, as her gaze lingered on his sleeping form silently, a tender gesture that surprised herself.

It didn’t matter if she didn’t fully comprehend what love is, at least for now.

For now, this will do. 

additional notes: the flashback is inspired by this doodle The first quote is from John Green's novel, "The Fault in Our Stars."

[optiwashere]

Writing Patterns

rules: share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

Oh, I love this one. Thank you @mikuchan for tagging me! 💜

1. Spent Cartridges and Scarlet Satin (BG3)

Turning the corner onto the street leading to her office, Shadowheart shrugged the collar of her black trench coat higher up to avoid any wayward eyes fixing on her for too long. Her boots slapped into a puddle, a wave skidding up across the sidewalk. She glanced to either side and peered down the alleyways she passed.

2. All Tied Up (BG3)

Getting herself into this situation had been Shadowheart's plan all along, but there was a vast difference between fantasy and kneeling on wooden floorboards with candle wax melting down her bare leg.

3. Worship at Her Altar (BG3)

Leaves crunched under Aylin's feet as she sped through the copse dimly lit by the half-moon overhead. Like so many nights of her long-distant youth, she ran from fallen log to forgotten footpath with nothing but the wind on her back. Clothes lay abandoned at the edge of the forest, the night demanding nothing but her body. In those old days oft recalled as lonely horrors, there was no Isobel.

4. These Broken Foundations (Malazan)

Tavore Paran walked the neglected streets of Kolanse City, her feet bleeding with each step. The people there, the Kolansii that remained hiding in their homes out of fear of what it meant to have an exhausted host of soldiers resting in the empty buildings dotting the city, paid her no mind. It was what she wanted, she told herself. The silence of all but her footfalls rested easy in her heart. Little else rested easily for her that day as Ganoes and the corpse of his army shambled behind them by a day at most.

5. As We Lay Entwined (BG3)

Shadowheart sat on the lip of a hill overlooking the crescent arc of Baldur's Gate's walls, her elbows slung over her knees as she searched the city streets for signs of life. Pockets of light trawled the city, tiny dots against the darkness, but in all it appeared as dead as the town they left behind in curse-freed Reithwin. Shambling through the night, lifeless.

6. The Line Between (BG3)

"You can't be serious?"

7. Out of the Dark (BG3)

The first touch of light after emerging from the dark is meant to warm the skin. Nocturne recalled reading that in a book on Selûnite philosophy that someone had gifted Shadowheart. It was a dull treatise Nocturne read because Shadowheart called it interesting one day and claimed that she might enjoy it.

8. Tenderly (BG3)

The idea struck Shadowheart at the end of one random, otherwise uneventful day. Lying in the grass in front of their cottage, side-by-side and staring up at the night sky’s glimmering stars and the silvery glow of a full moon, Shadowheart twirled her fingers through a loop of Asheera’s hair free of its braid.

9. Half a Sorrow (BG3)

There lay in Lae'zel's expression a ghost, a familiar cast that Shadowheart recognized.

10. Speak Uncertainly (BG3)

Standing on the battlement of the High Hall's curtain wall, Minthara leaned between the shattered merlons and rested her weight on tired arms. She surveyed the destruction of Baldur's Gate. So much potential lost, so many souls burned away who might have been useful for something more than dragonfire fodder.

Technically, a few fics (like Blades in the Night) come up in my recently published before some of the others I listed here. Those were either multichapters with a first chapter from last year, prompt collections posted elsewhere way before AO3, or zine fics. I skipped over those.

So, I expected there to be way more dialogue openings since I like doing that an awful lot. Instead, there's all these scene setting lines that also work to, I think, set up how the POV begins the fic before they go through whatever arc is within. I'd probably have to dig further back or look at the fic lengths to really break this down. I think it's likely that I do dialogue starts for the shorter fics, but then #9 and #10 are both ficlets. So what do I know?

Also, since I'm back on a writing tear, a lot of these fics are rather close together in terms of publishing date. Not necessarily writing date, though!

The funniest little happenstance for me is #4 and #5 characterizing large groups of people—an army after a pyrrhic victory and a city's population, respectively—as "shambling" corpses. I meant to use those metaphors as a way to show how morbid and defeated the POVs felt, but it's neat that the Malazan fic features such a similar metaphorical launch point to the Shadowheart character study. I wrote the Malazan fic months and months ago. I reworked a lot of it, but I kept the opening paragraphs, I'm pretty sure.

I'll tag @askweisswolf @cylinderarts and anyone else that wants to do this!

[davidshawswife]

In The Stars.

Asher fic.

hi ya'll, randomly got this idea. I am sorry btw. Hope you all are having an amazing Christmas. Remember to drink water (ik there's water in coffee but its not the same.) And eat! what would David say?? anyway. merry Christmas loves!

tag list

@gavinsdeviant

@daveysangelsposts

@monuma

Asher anxiously paced his living room floor. His mate wasn't home. They were late.

Somethings wrong.

They were never late. Annoyingly punctual? yes. But not late. He was the late one.

The shifter ran a paranoid hand through his hair. Tugging on the roots. He let out a ragged breath.

"come home, baby..''

Asher jumped at the sudden knocking on his door. Almost ripping the door off its hinges when he threw it open. His heart pounding rapidly in his chest.

His eyebrows shot up his forehead. Then drew together. Confused he eyed the police officer standing at his door.

The shifter chuckled nervously, ''Can I help you officer?" running a sweaty palm down the front of his jeans.

Eying the papers in his hand. The officer nodded. "Are you Asher?''

His heart skipped a beat. In nothing more than a shaky whisper he replied, "yes.''

"there's been an accident."

no.

No.

''No-''

2 months later

Asher dragged his feet as he walked the familiar route. His head hung low. hands tucked in his hoodies pockets.

His heart started sprinting in his chest at the sight before him. The familiar burn in chest as he struggled for air. His vision blurry from tears.

"hey babe.'' Asher entwined his mates fingers with his own.

His mate laid there. In their hospital bed unresponsive. In a coma they had been in for the past 2 months.

Asher had never been more. Broken. Lost. Lost with out his mate by his side. Without the person he loved more than anything.

"The doc told me today... that um...'' Asher wiped the tears slowly running down his face. sniffling he whispered "They don't think you're gonna make it, baby.''

exhaling a shaky breathe. The shifter stared down at his mate. torn. He didn't want to lose them. he couldn't lose them.

"I need you to come back to me... please." His tears were falling faster. harder. "I need you to look at me again. I need to see in your eyes that you love me. I need to hold you in my arms.''

His chest felt like hell. Burning. His lungs fighting for air. As his sobs took over.

"I need you, babe... I can't-" a ragged sound tore from his throat. "i'm still holding on. Holding on to something... that might already be gone."

"I love you-"

Asher's body jolted from the sudden beeping sound filling the room.

No-

People started bursting into the room. Yelling things the shifter didn't understand. Couldn't focus on.

the only thing that seemed to capture his attention in a moment of chaos was his mate. his mate who doctors were fussing over. because they weren't breathing.

He watched in horror as they shoved tubs upon tubs into his mate desperate to keep them alive.

"what's happening?'' his voice sounded strange. foreign to his own ears.

one of the doctors started approaching Asher. "Get him out of here!" another yelled.

Asher protested, "NO-" trying to break free from the doctor holding him away from his mate. "NO-"

The incessant beeping came to a sudden stop.

relief flooded the shifters body. only to be replaced by something else. something worse.

"NO! NO! PLEASE-'' Asher's cries filling the room.

"please-" a choking sound burst out of his throat, "no.. please.. please-'' Asher fell to his knees. crumbling to nothing.

His heart was being ripped out of his chest. watching with tears free falling down his cheeks as the doctors covered his mate in a white sheet.

Ash cried, "please, baby.'' falling into himself. laying on the hospital floor. his entire body shook from the weight of his sobs. Struggling to breathe. The shifter hiccupped.

His mate was gone. They left him. They were gone. And they took his soul with them.

Auther here hi, now listen to ghost of you by 5 seconds of summer.

[danpuff-ao3]

The Making of: Orange Blossoms

HP Flowers, Spring Round, 2022. A prompt event with weekly prompt choices inspired by the language of flowers. Of course, I was intrigued! After all: I really love Harry Potter. And I really love flowers. And symbolism. Not to mention this would take place in May, my birth month!! This fandom event seemed tailor made just for me!

Sadly, when I get excited, I get really excited.

And this was all happening in a time period when I was busy. And thus: stressed. And I do not work well under stress.

May 2022 was not only HP Flowers, but also Snarry-a-Thon. Leading up to May, I was pulling out my hair to finish my Snarry-a-Thon fic, Contempt. Not only was I bound and determined to participate in Thon at least once, brilliant me decided it was the perfect time to write the story of my soul. But that's another story (which you can read about here.)

I so had my heart set on writing for HP Flowers. Not just a story in May for HP Flowers, but I had my heart set on posting a Snarry fic for Flowers on my birthday. Which is earlier in the month (the 8th, to be exact.) I was losing hope I'd be able to finish Thon and pop out another fic in time for my birthday. Thon was driving me batty as it was! Surely when I was done I would need a nice, long break from writing.

Fun fact, but I did sneak some of the HP Flowers prompts into Contempt. Week 1, option 4 gave:

4. Ivy- Fidelity or Attachment

If paired with: >> Dahlia- honours a long-lasting relationship OR >> Hellebore- says nothing will ever come between you and your partner

Which directly inspired:

Harry doesn't know exactly where Snape's quarters are, but Snape's name on the map leads him down to the dungeons and a door with no handle. Engravings in the stone, of serpents entwined with ivy and dahlias. No lilies, Harry is pleased to note. A speech bubble appears on the map, helpfully suggesting "hellebore" as a password.

If I couldn't properly write for HP Flowers, I thought that would have to be good enough!

But you're not here to listen to me babble about Contempt yet again. You're here for Orange Blossoms.

Well, I finished and submitted Contempt and there was time left before my birthday. I kept a notebook where I scribbled various ideas. There was plenty I wanted to write for HP Flowers. I had the whole month's prompts written down, going over various combinations and ships and ideas. Above all else, I needed a Snarry, and I needed to write it for May 8.

For Snarry, I was mostly drawn to the Week 1 prompts, though my birthday fell at the start of Week 2. The "ivy" prompt drew me in more than anything, though I dabbled with others. What to do, what to do. I had too many options and too many paths available to me. Few concrete plans.

It was frustrating, not to be swarmed with actual ideas. I'm forever plagued by story ideas, but having to form ideas on command, to fit within a framework? Not my usual style. Only for love of Snarry + flowers was I wracking my brain for any workable idea. C'mon, brain, you can do it! You do this all the time, popping out story ideas!!

It's hard to really lay out a step by step of how it all came together. I made list after list. Threw down Merlin knows how many random thoughts. I stared at the prompt lists. I did Google Image searches for all the flowers. And bit by bit it came together.

It was the language of flowers, after all. How perfectly that lends itself to courtship! And the Week 1 prompt list had an option for: "Use all of the flowers/plants listed above to either celebrate Beltane or to incorporate them in a magical garden." Beltane was too tempting not to include, but it also gave me the idea of looking to the other sabbats, and how to entwine paganism with the Wizarding World.

That birthed The Old Ways; an idea that various pagan traditions began with magical folk, and is part of Wizarding history. And how history and traditions can be sources of structure and comfort. Wartime drove people to marry. (Bill and Fleur, Arthur and Molly; Molly's comments about people eloping "left, right, and center.")

How would it feel to be away from your family, living at school while war rages on outside? A strange sense of safety (being at Hogwarts) while aware of how dark and dangerous the real world (outside of Hogwarts) is. Think of how hard it would be on children and teenagers. Think of how people turn to faith in difficult times; or even find faith in difficult times.

All of this sort of inspired the trend at Hogwarts, of learning about and following The Old Ways.

All of that was background, of course, and my very convenient excuse for love confessions via flowers.

At some point, I had to decide who would be courting who via flowers. If Severus sent them, Harry would need an outsider source (probably Hermione) to point out that "hey, flowers have meaning!" If Harry sent them, well, I can see Severus having floriography knowledge, but Harry would need a valid excuse to start it in the first place (hence the trend.)

There was also a need for secrecy, I think, if Harry was going to do this. He's our bold Gryffindor, remember? In ideal circumstances, he would make his move in other ways. (Though, in fairness, getting through Severus' thick skull is no easy task, whichever way you go.) And isn't it fun for a student/teacher romance, exchanging intimate confessions in whatever method possible? And this is the language of flowers. No letters to be found and studied and traced back to the sender.

I always love a good student/teacher, I won't lie. And there's something quite sweet about Severus being courted. And by a student, no less!

And I do love Severus. And he deserves nice things. Let the man be wooed, dang it!

So, the jumbled mess in my head more or less sorted itself out along the way. "Floriography...courtship...who courts who?...what reason would each have for sending flowers?...Beltane, the Old Ways, traditions and trends...wartime, student/teacher..." At last, I was getting there!

Elsewhere in my notes, I'd had vague ideas of handfasting at Beltane.

And looking at my more solid plan, it occurred to me. The taboo nature of their love, the darkness of the war around them...but the light of their love, and the sweetness in the method...

I often rely on sex to get Snarry together. There is so much explosive passion between them, and so much baggage, so much of who they are as individuals, how others see them, and their complicated and antagonistic history...It takes a lot, I think, for them to see their connection for what it is. To accept it in themselves, let alone revealing it to the other. All of that aggression and intensity unleashing itself in a physical manner. And all of my headcanons about each of them, and their loneliness, and their trauma, and the desire for affection and physical touch. And how much easier it is to communicate via touch. How difficult words can be, how difficult thoughts can be. All this to say, there is a reason for it.

But here, I had a perfectly constructed a scenario excluding touch almost altogether. A time of war, a time of desperation. People being driven by fear, and clinging to what they can. Two men who found love in the most unlikely of places, in an unfortunate time.

It seemed wasteful to bring sex into a situation where it wasn't needed.

So: it's rated T. And I indulged in my more romantic side for this. It's still easier for these two to communicate without actual words, but instead of physical touch, I relied on gift giving. It was a fun change of pace. And I leaned into the language of flowers a lot. I used the HP Flowers prompts, yes, but I also went outside of it, too.

A whole courtship without sex, and hardly talking at all. A whole courtship under the noses of all of Hogwarts. A secret they dared not breathe aloud, even to each other.

I have a lot of feelings about Snarry as a ship. The incredible power of their connection, and their love. How it bleeds into everything. And being able to express that in a whole new way was such a beautiful experience.

So with my plan more or less in place, I began. I used two prompts: Hawthorn (hope) and Ivy (fidelity.) So I opened with flowers.

1. Hawthorn- Hope

If paired with: >> Orange blossom- shows hope that the recipient will return your affection

When I began, I was content to have any Snarry + flowers story. I figured I'd get a drabble out of it, if nothing else. I didn't expect a love story that would bring me to tears. I ended up with a story that was so dear to me. The best birthday gift I could have given myself, truly!

[allisonreader]

Things I want to write, but don’t know if I actually will. Starting with a list of AUs that I have either have wanted to include or expand upon in my Cars Fic Extended Connections. There’s; The Slip (expand), Five Year Coma (expand), Titanic AU (expand), A Dramatic Entrance (expand), Movie AU (include), a version of Ruth Lives! (include). I think that covers Extended Connections.

For more original works there’s; Three Lost Souls (or possibly Three Entwined Lives), The Rude and the Restless, Guilty Conscience, The Mysterious Mansion, Benteky and Adlura's story (possibly A Princess' Journey), a story about amnesia, there’s possibly more of those but that’s the main ones.

And then just so my other stories don’t feel forgotten about; A Different Kind of Cinderella, The Hidden Royals (The Devoted Servant), The Shipwreck Story, Lost in the Past, Tales Of A Frozen Sailor.

I still feel like there’s the potential that I missed something, but that all I have currently.

Details about each below.

🌻Extended Connections and subcategories (AUs contained inside)

Extended Connections is my Pixar Cars Fic that is humanized and is really my place to dump a bunch of AUs based upon my friend Nurf's humanized Cars stories, mainly her stories; Life's Highway, her Alternates, and Hard Enough Left. The main thought that is consistent throughout all the different AUs I drop into said Fic is the idea that Lynda Weathers is Doc Hudson’s niece through his wife’s side (Emily Piston).

🌻The Slip- The Slip is an AU where Alexander Piston (Jesse "Doc" Hudson's brother-in-law) let’s it slip in an interview that his sister's husband, just might be the Fabulous Hudson Hornet who disappeared nearly 30 years ago after his wreck. All to; as they learn later, to cover up the fact that an affair/fling he had, ended up with a child that he (Alexander) wanted nothing to do with.

There's one particular chapter/piece that I still want to write for this one. Which is a press conference to clear up a few things for people, a couple of years after the initial slip happens.

🌻Five Year Coma- based on a short piece posted to tumblr by Nurf where Jesse had a terrible memory blip, but before I finished reading it had made me think of Jesse having been in a coma for a few years before waking up. So this one chronicles what it would be like if Jesse had been in a coma for; you guessed it, five years.

🌻Titanic AU- This one should be kind of self explanatory. Especially if you’re familiar at all with me (and know my love of the Titanic). It’s simply taking the Cars (and original) characters and transplanting them into an earlier era where a few of them wind up on the Titanic. Jesse ending up a sailor instead of a racer. (Though he still ends up with a Hudson Hornet and has ties to Piston Cup but in a different way. Also a Granddad Doc AU, Lightning is Jesse Hudson’s grandson.

🌻A Dramatic Entrance- this one has a couple of different things going for it. It’s a genderbent AU. Just for Jesse and Emily though. And Jesse’s female version gets dismissed from Piston Cup after her wreck because she had been pretending to be a man. When she winds up in Radiator Springs, she ends up shooting Emily’s male version.

🌻The Movie AU- Doc leaves behind a set of journals for Lightning once he dies and Lightning uses them to make a movie. This would chronicle that process.

🌻A Ruth Lives version- technically the Titanic AU is one of those, but this is a slightly more canon version of that, with potentially some twists.

🎀Original Works🎀

🌸Three Lost Souls or Three Entwined Lives (now I’m even considering combining the two title options to create Three Entwined Souls.) This one is based off a dream I had once, with a shipwreck which switches around the lives of three little girls. I’m not sure if I will ever actually fully write this one out. Originally I thought it should be the length of a novel. But now I’m wondering if it might work better as a shorter story. It might make it a little easier to write.

💐The Rude and the Restless- a very soapy, melodramatic story potentially (hence the name) also has some very light influences from Beauty and the Beast, the rude being the beast and the Restless being the beauty. The rude loses his voice after being bitter and rude to women for awhile. He only gets his voice back after he learns to respect and trust the restless. (Definitely has romance elements, but probably wouldn’t include anything gross. Aka not likely to include any kissing and definitely no implicit sex, though it might vaguely be implied.)

🌹Guilty Conscience- This is one that I’m really not sure that I’ll ever end up actually writing. If I wrote it the way that I actually want to, it would involve a whole ton of research that I’m not sure that I’m actually willing to do. If I went the route of research, the story would follow O'Donald (purposefully not a Irish or Scottish name proper) a Catholic Irishman (big and burly) who did something terrible as a sailor on the Titanic. (This story does feed off the basis of Tales Of A Frozen Sailor and the thought that O’Donald is the one who locked Jess in the bowels of the ship as it’s sinking, leaving her to die when she might’ve had a chance otherwise.) The story would follow him after he left his fellow sailor to die without even a chance to tray and escape. Leaving him with an extremely guilty conscience that drives him to drink, split with his wife because of what he did and the drinking/falling or pulling away from the Church. It taking WWI to sober him up and start to reconcile with his wife and son who he’s never met. I could put this in a fictional world so I wouldn’t have to research as much, but I feel like it would take away from the story. Also, though I’m not Catholic, it’s extremely important to me that O’Donald and family would be. (I still really like the redemption arc that he would go through in this, which would be extremely slow. In the war he’d practically be suicidal, taking on missions that should be hopeless, but always surviving. Not joining the navy, preferring the trenches. Having an easier time facing the horrors of war, than what he did on the Titanic.

🌼The Mysterious Mansion- Another one based off of a dream. Potentially could lean towards horror of a sort. Probably at least slightly paranormal suspense/mystery. A bit urban legend like, in the fact that it’s a mansion that people seem to disappear into and never return. Could be seen as escape room like.

🌷A Princess' Journey, Benteky and Adlura’s story- a story I’ve tried to write for many years and that I’ve come to realize might work better as a shorter story than a novel length one. A princess runs away from home to avoid a political marriage that would likely end in her death, to work for a prince. Only to fall in love with him and compete in a traditional way to find a bride for said prince. Princess and the Pea vibes and inspiration.

🌺Untitled idea but focuses on being a story about a man who has amnesia. (Because doesn’t everyone have to have one of these?). Memories lost, man starts a new life after not getting them back.

🎀More Active Stories…🎀

🪻 A Different Kind of Cinderella- story inspired by Cinderella, only follows such to a certain point. Needs rewritten and to finish part two.

🌸 The Hidden Royals (The Devoted Servant)- working off and on, possibly a two parter story. The Devoted Servant actually potentially being the first book and The Hidden Royals being the second/series title. A royal family is nearly completely killed off, other than one couple who are sneaked away and hidden from the public until they can take back the country. Also fun fact about this one, it's kind of a play vaguely on the same idea of what part two would be for A Different Kind of Cinderella.

🌼 The Shipwreck Story- a working title, as a shipwreck starts the story, but the focus is more on what comes after a rescue. Of the two who were shipwrecked on a deserted island are forcibly removed from each other's lives, very much against their wills.

💐 Lost in the Past- the AU of Tales Of A Frozen Sailor. But kind of opposite of what happens in Tales Of A Frozen Sailor. Erik lands in the middle of the Titanic sinking and is stuck in the past. He saves Jess.

🌷 Tales Of A Frozen Sailor- Want to rewrite and fill out a bit more. Jess gets trapped as the Titanic sinks and freezes, only to be thawed out nearly a 100 years later.

🎀Bonus (one I forgot)🎀

🌺The Scorn Prince- Still more of a vague idea at this point. But the story would follow a prince (who feels scorn) has been exiled from his home country and must make a new life for himself. Taking awhile to start to become part of the community where he ends up.

🌹Other Thoughts🪻

A mermaid story of some kind. Not necessarily a Little Mermaid inspired one, though there might be some crossover.

No particular thoughts on this one yet, but potentially a mail order bride story of some kind.

Also I kind of want to write one of those stories where someone has multiple secret lives that end up catching up with them.

And I think that's the main ones for those.

[star-girl69]

I Loved You Like the Sun

Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

please read: announcement

a/n: reader is from house honeyholt, a small house from the reach. (this is a real house in the books, feel free to look it up!) nothing about the reader is described, although reader is described as having long(ish) hair. hair color, eye color, and anything along those lines is left as ambiguous as possible. (i apologize in advance if something i write isn’t ambiguous. we are all humans and we all make mistakes! please feel free to tell me if you have any suggestions as to how i can cater this fic to the most people possible.)

i hope you all enjoy!

—-

You were always told that you were the namesake of your house. You, Y/N Honeyholt of the reach, were as sweet as honey. And you truly must be, if by any way Princess Rhaenyra is addicted to you. After loving Rhaenyra in secret, you are torn apart and married off to your cruel husband. When you come back to King's Landing you find yourself entwined in the web that is Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

-

Married life with Daemon and Rhaenyra is pure bliss- but a war is brewing, and despite your efforts, you and your family are caught in it.

-

Through longing and distance, blood and tears, you are still as entwined in Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen as ever, but finding yourself as well. You realize you are not the sun- but instead a Queen.

—-

Part One - Fire is the Sweetest Death

Chapter One - Wait for Me

Chapter Two - Blind Me

Chapter Three - Away From You

Chapter Four - To Live

Chapter Five - Burn Together

Chapter Six - Darkest Thing

Chapter Seven - Sweetest Thing

Chapter Eight - Idea of It

Chapter Nine - Fire Made Flesh

Chapter Ten - Freedom

Chapter Eleven - Eternally

Chapter Twelve - Silk Sheets

Chapter Thirteen - Storms

Chapter Fourteen - The Sun

Chapter Fifteen - Bound in Blood

Part Two - Your Light Drowns the Sun

Chapter Sixteen - He is the Night

Chapter Seventeen - Memorize Me

Chapter Eighteen - I Made You

Chapter Nineteen - Do You Believe Me?

Chapter Twenty - I Am Your Sword

Chapter Twenty One - Like You Mean It

Chapter Twenty Two - The Queen

Chapter Twenty Three - To Break

Chapter Twenty Four - Pawn

Chapter Twenty Five - Don’t Say You Love Me

Chapter Twenty Six - Lady Targaryen

Part Three - The Sun Misses the Stars

Chapter Twenty Seven - Return Me

Chapter Twenty Eight - Ship at Sea

Chapter Twenty Nine - The Dragon’s Treasure

Chapter Thirty - Blood & Cheese

Chapter Thirty One - Waiting, Longing

Chapter Thirty Two - You Live and You Leave

Chapter Thirty Three - Blood on her Hands

Chapter Thirty Four - I Miss You on Me

Chapter Thirty Five - Take my Soul Away

Chapter Thirty Six - Death on Her Lips

Part Four - Don’t Fear the Flames

Chapter Thirty Seven - In the Setting Sun

Chapter Thirty Eight - Fight or Flight

Chapter Thirty Nine - The Meaning of Fire

Chapter Forty - Nuha Daria, Nuha Dārys

Chapter Forty One - The Queen of the Night

Chapter Forty Two - Do You Live for Me?

Chapter Forty Three - Good Men Die Too

Chapter Forty Four - Swallow the Light

Chapter Forty Five - In the Wind, in the Water

[oh-for-fic-sake-library]

The Brethren

Masterlist

Summary: returning home was much worse then you could have imagined, the sleepy town in the mountains was a far cry from what it had once been. A new cult had rolled into town changing life as you knew it. And you soon realise your arrival was a set up, but what exactly did these huge brothers want with you?

Warnings: Cult A/U, polygamy, mentions of domestic discipline, dark fic, swearing

A/n: i hope you are all doing well and had a good Christmas!  I finally got around to finishing this oneshot! Woohoo! This played on my mind for a while but I wasn’t sure exactly how to do8it. I think I did alright. As always i hope you enjoy!

Unbeta'd screw ups are my own!

Wordcount: 5212

Traditional. Necessary. White and clean.

Pure living, they called it. Long dresses hiding tempting curves and soft voices hiding fear. This was a far cry from what you’d left behind all those years ago. Religion was never anything you really paid mind to. Neither had your parents until they had come.

They called themselves the forbearers of the brethren. These smartly dressed men- brothers each one wide and tall striking blue eyes and dark hair, ranging from dark chestnut to black. Clean shaven and slicked hair to messy curls and bearded.

Each one was as frightening a the other, sharp and charismatic.  Smart. They spat venom laced with honey and began their own... Religion. Well, that’s what they called it. A new freeing faith, the belief and worship in God with the understanding we are all created from sin. Lust. Their ideals were that you must go through hell to rid yourself of sin. Wallow and repent in filth until you cry enough tears to cleanse yourself in gods’ mercy.

That was if you were a sinner. A harlot, lazy, greedy or some other undesirable type of heathen. And almost everyone is. They were pristine and clean. Everyone around them was not.

The brethren were a cult. Nothing more, nothing less. Officially named the brethren of souls. They had stormed into your sleepy little town in the middle of butt fuck nowhere and made it their very own kingdom.

Not that you knew that. You'd left moved to the big city to become a judge. After being away for almost six years you finally gave in to the insistent nagging of your mother and returned to visit your parents.

You’d returned to a strange place. A large roadblock and tunnels through the Mountains blocked off. There was only one main road in and out now, through the mountainous cliffs and then about seven miles of thick forest. It was the scenic route and made you remember just how isolated your home town was.

The blockades to the other roads had looked natural, landsides a damaged bridge. But it wasn’t until you made it to the edge of town you realised it probably wasn’t an act of God that had closed off access. This single remaining entrance was heavily guarded by once peaceful folk you knew growing up, one of the gun wielding men was your old m8ddle school teacher for Christ sake! It looked like he'd become a soldier of some sort of militia. You'd had to show the hand written invite and your id before being let through the makeshift check point.

The once bright little town seemed muted, strange propaganda now lined the windows and advertising boards. The people were happy but in a forced eerie way, their clothes once normal fashion now faded pale dyes and plain cloth. Flowers were entwined into girls hair and many were barefoot, despite the calm there was a fearful air about them, nervous but compliant. It was disturbing.

Your parents had welcomed you but brushed off all of your questions about the changes and road blocks, but they simply shook their heads saying it was their will. You asked who they were talking about but once again they ignored you this time with chuckle. You resigned yourself to just keeping your head down and try to make it through this visit quickly and return to your home in the city and never return.

But things took a turn after the first few days and you’d been brought to the chapel for mass. Something your family never partook in. But if your parents found solace in god it wasn’t your place to argue. They were entitled to their beliefs so you agreed to go.

You shouldn’t have. There was no priest or pastor in the service. Instead five men. Brothers. All gloriously handsome, strong and an air of kindness that you doubted was genuine. They all spoke of god, preaching about how Jesus had died for the sinners and we are born out of sin, and it is okay to sin for in our repentance of sin we find god. They preached that to reach the heavenly father we must atone and endure what life has to offer with your faith intact. They almost sounded blasphemous the way they spoke comparing themselves to the almighty, claiming they and only they knew the way to heaven and the afterlife.

They spoke in birth order apparently, the oldest was August an imposing man that had the mouth piece of the devil but believed he was god. A deep intimidating tone and ever present smirk hidden by an out of date face caterpillar. Then was Napoleon a suave self confident male who clearly thought he was the most intelligent person in the room. Then napoleon's twin;  Clark younger by mere minuets according to the whispers of your parents, yet with his sweet cinnamon roll appearance geek glasses and loose curls draped over his fore head he looked much younger then the distinguished man who'd spoke before him,  he was the textbook cute college professor you'd risk expulsion for.

Clark spoke with a down to earth almost shy voice, gifting the congregation with small smiles, and lapping at his lip every so often. But his eyes gave it away, he was a snake, a Judas. A good actor and hid the sharp piercing looks well, but eyes are the window to the soul and that man was... Off. Before you knew it another hand taken his place. Walter was a huge bear of a man, he spoke of the harsh realities we face and how its our fault. His firm little speech ended with a threat

"we are tempted by evil everyday, sin is ingrained into our very being. Its a test, be strong and hold your nerve, we can endure this. You can endure this you are chosen and as god and the brethren are my witness I will force you to pull through your misery and seek out redemption on the other side. I will make you righteous and pure once more"

Finally the strange mass ended with sy. A cheeky Texan who was all smiles and lightened the mood. He sounded like he was trying to be everyone’s best buddy. Calling out that there is a silver lining, there is glory to be had we just had to see our way through the fear and pain to bask in the light and glory of god once we shed our sinful past.

You'd tried to subtly escape out of the door and almost succeeded as you broke through the threshold and stepped into the light your parents halted as a loud voice boomed out over the space. August called your father back into the chapel. You shrunk feeling the change in the air, the others of the congregation watching whispering as the small battalion of men eyed you and nodded at you to follow your parents back into the quaint chapel.

Into the wolves den. These huge brothers still lingering at the small stage and plinth they had been speaking at minuets ago. You shivered turning back to face them, your mother grasping you dragging you out of the bright sunlight and into gods dark house.

"Ah oh gosh its happening! I cant believe it! We're being summoned! its done- its done!" Your mother gushed whisper screaking as she clutched at you, hooking her arm around yours dragging you down the far end of the building as the doors closed behind you, with a deafening finality.

With the doors closed the chapel became dim, basking in a red hue from the brightest window behind the alter, the stained glass casting the dreadful red and orange making the Chapel seem more like a devils den. 

"What? Mother what do you mean?" You hissed trying to peer back at the doors and slowly freaking out inside. You felt every bit the lamb being lead to a pack of monstrous beasts. Without knowing them or speaking to them you already knew these were not men of god, they were men of war and destruction. 

"Hush and mind your manners, be respectful to the brethren and we shall all be rewarded" she hummed whilst trying to pull at your hair pulling it from your face trying to show you off in her own way.

"The brethren? Those crack pots? Mum I don’t want to-oh err hello?" You turned trying to get answers from your mother still not following exactly what was going on. But you were quickly cut of as she spun you to face forward only to come face to... chest with the youngest of the brothers sy. His face split into a grin eyeing you up and down which prompted you to stutter out a soft confused greeting.

"Hello ma'am... Christ almighty August tell me this is her! Pu-lease!" He hummed a low greeting before turning to August who stepped closer grinning like a Cheshire cat. You shivered, nothing about that grin boded well for you.

"Calm yourself Sy. We don’t want to frighten her" he purred, eyes glinting with a strange fire, it was like lust but held a deeper heat. A frightening heat, that would both burn and freeze you. The type of look that belonged on the faces of serial killers or something. The look that made you tremble and every single instinct scream at you to run.

"I agree... but sy does have a point. Beauty is key, we must be attracted to our chosen little rabbit" your eyes were snapped from the patriarch of this insanity, and rested on the loveable cinnamonroll-esque male Clark. You frowned once more blinking feeling more and more uncomfortable as the group of brothers gathered around you appraising you like a product from all sides. You were waiting to be called a fucking heffa or something.

"Ch-chosen? What-I’m sorry I don’t follow" you asked growing more anxious and irritated only to have a huge perfectly manicured finger wagged in your face. You balked and took a step back growling at the rude male who was trying to shush you. The slicked back hair and finely pressed suit only irritated you more. Napoleon, you remembered the ridiculous name from the sermon. It suited him, all high and mighty probably compensating for something... This particular Napoleon wasn’t lacking in height, a smirk graced your face as your mind wandered.

"Hush dear. Hmm she’s a little outspoken?" The smirk was wiped from your face as he literally hushed you and the  turned to his brothers with a chuckle.

"It makes for fun." Came the deep Texan drawl of sy who still hovered closely beside you. A little too close. You shifted on your feet uncomfortably and peered around you subtly only now noticing the remaining brothers had slowly eased there way around you. And you were centre of a very intimidating pack of predators. The human kind.

You spun quickly and tried to catch your parents eye, willing them to come and help you out of whatever situation you’d landed yourself in. But they were to busy preening under the attention, falling over themselves watching the men circle you like vultures.

"This is the one you spoke of?" August asked leaning closer to you capturing your chin between his thumb and index finger tilting you to face him. You gasped shocked he would touch you at all let alone tilt your head left and right inspecting you like cattle.

"Y-yes y/n our one and only child... She’s twenty three" your father boasted eyes wide and full of wonder as if he believed you to have caught the interest of god himself. You frowned and twisted your head from the man. But his fingers held you firmer pulling you forward trying to make you step closer. With a light growl you brought you hand up slapping his away from you and took a step back from him moving a hand to cup your jaw.

"Y/n!? You weren’t raised to be so rude! Apologize this instant!" Your father began bellowing but was silenced as August raised a hand, his other smoothing over his jaw thoughtfully. Silence reined for a few moment and then a small chuckle escaped him. The others smirked following their brothers example, each huffed out their own amusement. They were almost relieved? Thrilled even? As if there ha been some silent decision made about you.

"Its quite alright. She is defensive and spirited. A very good thing, she protects herself, I'm impressed." August uttered, you shrunk watching his lips curl higher, a handsome devilish look, one that held a promise. A threatening promise you wasn’t certain what the look held past a dark glee, but it was something dastardly, sinister. It made you shrink further under his gaze.

You still inched backwards without noticing and stepped into the bearded man draped in a fine knit pull over and yelped. Almost jumping out of your skin when his large hand rose to grasp your elbow. Holding it firmly to halt your movements. You looked to him but he paid no mind to you. Instead his eyes were set on your father as he began to speak.

"Soo a spicy little twenty three old? So young and vibrant... You've both tended your garden well, she is a truly perfect bloom" Walter praised, sending you an appreciative glance and smirked.

Then used the hand on your elbow to move you back in between his brothers, placing you in the centre once again. He was completely undeterred by the looks you gave him. Squinting at him with a confused rage. You didn’t like him, he was frightening and rude, he to made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"Indeed. Pristine just as god willed her to be" you ducked down as the smooth playful voice carried from behind you. Sy. He was much closer now, he'd stepped forward sealing off the tiny gap between him and Walter. And also cut off your view to your parents behind his massive bulk.

He moved quickly crossing his arms across his chest, you yipped and jerked forward worried he to would reach out to you. stepping forward had been a bad idea as you ended up staggering into August chest. You tried to flee from the stern looking man. Only to be cut off by another brother, your rising anxiety and panic making you more frantic. There were so many of them and they were all as frightening as the others.

This time you were peering up at the other twin. He smiled giving a silent scoffed chuckle and dipped his head slightly, the light catching on the glasses suddenly reflecting drowning out the intense blues. It was eerie, creepy even the way he used his glasses to hide himself, his intentions so subtly. A truly dangerous male.

You gasped as Augusts hands ensnared you quickly, one huge palm on each hip. A strong grip and slight push stopped you from inching away from him, he rooted you to the spot compressing your soft hips between his hands. And continued to enquire after you to your parents, not releasing you from his grasp.

"A judge if I’m correct?" The male purred down at you, eyes still that predatory gaze. You made to reply but your father beat you to it, speaking for you.

"Yes, she is studying to become a judge"

"Such a desire must come from a strict moral compass" napoleon drawled out nodding to himself, his brothers all humming in agreement seemingly please with your morals. August though wanted to dig deeper and directed another question to your parents.

"Tell me is she a virgin?"

"I beg your pardon?!" You snapped baring blunt teeth and tried to get away from him, resulting in clawing at his hands. But they remained clutching their prize. Like a big cat latched on to its prey, he wouldn’t budge. And to your Absolut horror you mother answered the question, giving away details of your private life to these complete strangers!

"To our knowledge yes, she has been alone in the city for some time but had no boyfriends or lovers to speak of" your mother seemed pleased, proudly announcing your virtue to the group peacocking. There was a collective inhale, a silent groan pouring from the group of males. You closed your eyes turning your gaze to the floor, cheeks red and eyes warming with embarrassed tears. You were angry, but also confused and humiliated.

"I don’t mind either way, august. She is suitable. Sins and all we can deal with it" The older of the twins purred out. Taking a closer step reaching out to move some hair from your face, stopping you from hiding behind a curtain of hair.

"Yeah, I’m sure we can find a way to cleanse her, and control that temper. Implement a punishment and reward system, with the five of us we would prevail fairly quickly" Clark added tipping his head to his twin with a grin making napoleon nod his head in agreement.

"That we would, I have no doubt a taste of my palm will be enough to stop any unfavourable behaviour." Sy hummed, tipping his head eyeing your bottom whilst letting out a low whistle and flexing his fingers at the thought of having that juicy plump bubble but inn his palms.

"If not then throw her my way. She'd only need to be reminded once with a strap or cane" Walter uttered, you gasped at the threat. Strap? Cane? Did they truly mean to beat you into what ever it is they were planning? You eyes flicked to your parents, surly they would speak up for you? Protect you? Yet they remained silent. They were grinning! Overjoyed! You made to speak but were spoken over by the eldest who still had a tight grasp o you, his fingerprints probably bruising your hips by this point.

"There are no objections to her then?" August asked glancing to the others, each brother smiled shaking their head, all accepting the small, yet feisty woman.

"No. Not one she’s a little diamond, she just needs to be in the right setting to really shine” sy finally purred leaning back, crossing his arms taking in the sight before him. A sweet little bunny ripe for the taking. And take you he will. They all will~

"Good" august hummed and turned to your mother, who was almost weeping in her happiness as her dream came to light right before her eyes. Her daughter was going to birth the brethren's sons! She was going to be the grandmother to the next forebears, her grandbabies? The brethren of souls!

"It's decided, she’s the one have her ready by tomorrow morning" sy nodded to you smirking and turned to your parents who both gasped. Sy eyed your father curiously, staring him down. There was hesitation, in the mans eyes. Your mother was won over but your father held doubt. Sy didn’t like it, he turned facing him and crossed his arms putting all his army days intimidation to good use staring the man down until finally he stuttered out a pleading question. 

"Tomorrow? So soon?" You father asked feeling smaller and smaller as the captain held him in a steady gaze. Sy sighed and dipped his head down then took a casual intimidating step towards your  much smaller father.

You frowned not liking what was going on, your parents knew something, your father unsure. You tried to intercept the huge burly man who was frightening your dad with silent fierce posturing. August did not relent, he held you still making you curse, loud enough to draw Sy's attention.  The Texan spun to face you and grinned.

"Dirty mouth there woman, id clean it up 'fore I rinse it out for ya" he drawled in his thick accent winking at you letting you get some idea to what he meant. The others chuckled at the filthy meaning behind the words. You sputtered and growled tugging at august  ready to slap this bastard silly. You drew a breath ready to argue and cuss him out like a sailor. But your words fell silent as august leant forward pressing a chase kiss to your cheek, hushed words warning you against doing anything silly. You grunted unimpressed when he ushered you towards Clark who had gained on you both, hands out ready to whisk you away.

"Yes. Time waits for no man, even us" napoleon said over his shoulder choosing to ignore your little exchange with Sy and addressed your parents helping corral you. You spun trying to move out of their way, but were too slow. Walter and Clark were on you coiling around your frame. Each placing soft kisses to your cheeks and petting your hair grinning from ear to ear. You flinched pulling away freaking out over the unwanted affection. Swearing and twisting trying to escape, but these men were all twice as big at you, and had the strength to match.

"I- yes she will be ready" you just about heard your father utter the words, a soft frightened voice. Not that you could concentrate much when these huge barbarians were smothering you. Running their hands across your form and chuckling at you 'cute' attempts to get away.

"What do you mean? And ready for what?-will you fucking get off! Get off of me for god sake?!" You snarled at them trying to shake off their hands. Slowly you were brought to heal, Walters hands locking onto your forearms and gave a violent shake making you freeze up in fear.

"Calm yourself. And mind your tone, I will not stand for such blasphemy. Do you understand?" He growled warning you whilst squeezing your arms in a bruising grip.

"I-I wha?" You panicked whining as you were shook once more, so hard you stumbled over your own feet. Tears blurred your eyes as fear took hold of you. It was one thing to be touch and treated like property,  but another when these men had no qualms about getting rough with their manhandling.  Your mind instantly went down a dark path imagining the worst. What if they got violent?

"Do you understand. You will not use the lords name in vain. And you'll stop that cursing as well. I will not tell you again." Walter cut you off with a warning, intent on setting you straight from the get go. You whimpered nodding as tears rolled down your face. You were quivering in his hands.

"Y-yes yes I’m so-rry I wont do it again-can you let go, your hurting me, please don’t hurt me I’m sorry!" You pleaded sniffling as you spoke terrified of what he may do next.

"One more" he said with a heavy sigh and rubbed your arms soothing the pain he had caused. you frowned not understanding what the massive man meant but quickly yelped when sy appeared beside you and leant over pressing a quick gentle kiss to your hair line. Hands cupping your cheeks wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

"There now, its alright don’t mind Walter he is just a stickler for blasphemy so try to be a good girl okay little bloom?" The Texan accent hummed from beside you. Before patting your bottom making you hiss at him. Walter released you letting you stagger away into your mothers open arms. You thought she had finally come to her senses. But no.

"Oh my girl I’m so proud of you! Your the chosen! I knew you would be! I raised you to be perfect" she praised giddy as she held you tightly. She didn’t seem to see anything wrong with what just happened, in fact she was ecstatic. 

"Ah ah. What are the teachings?" Walter scolded your mother with a grunt, scowling at her and crossing his arms frightening her just as much as he had you.

"M-modesty and humility... I-I am sorry I? I am trying, I struggle" Your mother faltered, shrinking into you. As she replied quietly. You frowned not liking the way she seemed to cower, your arm came and encircled her and your glowered at Walter holding his gaze. The man in question scowled deeper, waiting for you to back down bur you didn’t. You wouldn’t look away.

"Its of no consequence. We are all human and all have our shortcomings. Pride is a sin many fail to recognise." Clark intervened calmly smiling brightly to you and your mother trying to defuse the situation and move things along.

"Though you may be offered some... wiggle room, take some pride in your child" August mediated, deciding to indulge the devout woman on this occasion. After all he was about to take her daughter and force her into a reverse harem marriage spending the rest of his days plundering the young woman for heirs.

"She is beautiful and smart. Young and sure to provide us everything we need" August continued, showering you with what you think was meant to be praise. Instead alarm bells began ringing. Red flags popping up at his wording.

"Provide? What are you talking about?! Will someone please tell me what is going on here- better yet the town?! This is fucking madness!" You finally hissed snapping at them furious yet unsure. You looked to each of them trying to force an answer from one of them.

"Ah. It appears our little bloom really does suffer her own anger" Napoleon chided with a confusing mix of glee and disappointment. He shook his head as he spoke and looked to your father who replied quickly like some trained pup barking on command.

"Yes, she has always struggled with temper" your father admitted his shoulders slumping eyes downcast like he was ashamed to reveal your faults. Not that anyone could blame you, these cretins had taken over the town, destroyed it and now felt they had some right over you? Of course, your angry! You have a right to be!

"No matter we will overcome this snag. Take her and get her ready. And we shall see you at the alter little bloom" august instructed cheerfully with a clap of his hands and rubbed them together. He locked his gaze onto you as he spoke making you feel uneasy.

"A-alter? What like a sacrifice or something?" You asked anxiety rising to new heights as they seemed to speak in tongues and riddles.

"No no of course not, we would never harm something so precious. Something that will bring my brothers and I so much joy." August laughed out loud waving off your fears like childish drivel.

"A wedding. We are going to wed and bed you my dear" he announced casually, it was as if he had been speaking about the weather!

"You most certainly are fucking not!" You snarled more out of offence then anything. You didn’t care who these men were they couldn’t just fucking decide your fate! They cannot have you as if you are there for their own amusement! 

"Now now calm yourself. There’s no need to fight, this is your duty, your destiny little bloom. We will be very happy, you'll see" august chuckled making you angrier by his dismissive tone. He was facing mad! Stark raving mad if he thought you were going to just roll over for them! It wasn’t even fucking legal!

You sneered at him and turned finally having enough of this craziness. Your mother tried to hold onto you but you shoved her off and began leaving, fighting the urge to bolt. But were stopped by two men by the door. You growled trying to open the door but were blocked by them.

"Accompany her to the cabin of reflection, Mother will join her" Walter’s voice called out over the church making your stomach drop. You cried out as you were apprehended, the men apologised as they subdued you.

"Mother?" You froze looking back at your mother who had stopped watching you, instead of helping you she turned to Walter her cheeks tinting red and eyes wide full of hope and joy from the name. Like she'd just been anointed some holy title.

"Yes, Mrs y/l/n you will be our mother-in-law. I do hope we can all call you as such?" Napoleon answered her stepping beside her grinning, placing a gentle hand to her back ensnaring her. Making her forget all about you who was being dragged from the church.

"Keep watch and guard her she is everything. My brother and i's future wife. Make sure she is safe, and contained if she runs catch her and bring her back to me" august hummed stepping away fro his brothers as he addressed our captors, casually tucking his hands into his suit pants.

You cried out in a strange fear laced anger and tugged trying to free yourself from the two men who flanked you, each wrestling your arms to keep you contained. But august smiled at the display, he seemed to get a sick pleasure from watching your fear fuelled struggles.

"Don’t you worry little bloom~ we will together again very soon. Until then do be a good girl and behave, you don’t want any of us to have to come and deal with any unsavoury behaviour. Our wedding night will be most uncomfortable with a blistered backside" he uttered with glee making your blood go cold. You could see it, the evil. The darkness the men held inside.

They didn’t care for laws or morals, they cared about themselves and greed. He finally waved you off, and just like that you were pulled from the church, the door closing separating you from the safety of your parents. You shouted calling out to them, begging for help but they didn’t listen. No one listened or came to help as you were forced into the back of a black suv ready for transport. You sobbed and begged crying and pleading with anyone you could see, banging on the window and trying to get out but it was no use. The car tore away from the church and made for the back roads of town to the woods. All you could do was hope and pray that if there was a god, they would have mercy and give you a way to escape this mess. Because there was no way you’d escape

[nelapanela94]

Hi Nela , i wanted to request a fic, an angsty one at that, where  it is set in cannonverse.  So, a colleegue of levi dies on a mission and she harbored strong feelings for him for a long time in secret, but she cant pass and her spirit keeps looming over him watching  until fate makes him   realize that she was deeply in love with him , and who knows maybe they'll be together in another lifetime. You're welcome to make changes or add anything . Get well soon 😊 🙏

😊Hi Anon! Thank you!!!! I'm feeling way better now, and than you so much for the request!!!

tw: Angsty, depiction of physical injuries and death.

wc: ~13k

Summary: Doomed to spend eternity in a wedge between heaven and hell, mourning a love that could not be, Y/N has only one way to escape her desolate fate. Will she find a way to make Levi aware of the feelings she has secretly harbored for him?

You were noise and silence muting my soul.

Fury and lull.

tears and laughter.

The promise and a perhaps

confusing my skin.

You were all and nothing.

You are what never was and will never be.

The storm and oblivion.

An hourglass upside down.

3

Gravel crunch under your feet. You’re running towards the light, but the line that divides brightness and darkness recedes with every step you take. No matter how fast you run, your feet never skim the glowing gold. The gleam warms your skin like a mother caress lulling you to sleep. Barren soil becomes grass, tall grass that gobbles up and pricks your ankles. Dew wicks your white, flowing skirts. You clutch the twill in your fists and lift so as not to trip and fall. Despite the voluminous dress, you feel light, weaving through with such litheness. Like a feather swirling in an airstream.

You enter the woods, sticks of light pour through the boughs and sprigs, hundreds-year-old trees stand there and proud like sentinels, flanking the way to the great beyond. Their entwined branches claw at the sky like pleading arms. The air holds the balmy aromas of honey and oak, mingled with the smell of petrichor. Your hair whips around your face, and the whisper of the gentle breeze soothes you, trimming away the suffering. The pain has waned. No more blood is gushing out. The wounds on your flesh sewn back as if seconds or minutes has spooled backwards. As if the reels were collected. But time is moving forward. The earth continues whirling around the sun. Your lips curve up into a smile of relief when you spot the last wall of trees.

You just have to follow the light to the world where souls wallow in ambrosial fragrance and revel in the divine twang of harps.

A frosty gale whirs with the intensity of a hurricane, prickling your arms and face with a thousand needles, and the lustre shrinks. The elation fades from your gaze, giving way to a grimace of dismay. Confusion, fear, chagrin sting your face. The darkness that enfolds you is so dense you can’t see your fingers wiggling before you. The sheer quietness is jarring, and you’re left alone with your unsettling thoughts. A throe of anguish whacks you right in the chest and bolts through your limbs. Blotches of your last moments snag your senses: the pungent stench of iron, wires buzzing, dismembered bodies, spatters of crimson, the ear-splitting shouts and pleas, the twinging pain surging through your leg and side and neck, the bark of a tree chaffing your back.

The little hairs behind your neck bristle in awareness. Chills bite you. Despair crawls under your skin like rolling-out barbed wire. A razor-sharp beat springs in your chest, and your heart leaps into your throat. Your mouth unhinges to scream, but nothing comes out.

You run, the fear of being trapped in that prison of murk is more harrowing than the fear of stumbling and smashing your face on the floor. What's the worst that could happen if you're already dead?Though, no matter where you go, there’s no sign or a sliver of light that gives you hope.

A dire laughter rises, and you stop in your tracks, turning your head in different directions with frenzy. Your breath comes out in a rush of panic, and your chest tightens into a knot. Something or someone rejoices in your plight. The laugh is like a throaty rasp scraping your ears with the most abrasive sandpaper.

You close your eyes shut, clamping them so tight you see stars sparkling behind your eyeballs, threatening to explode. You hunch. Your hands cover your ears, yet the dreadful sound seeps through. Your face is dampened and warm with tears. Chin wobbling. Your sobs and weeps tangle with the sardonic guffaw composing a brash tune that prickles your eardrums.

Is this how eternity will be? How bad have been your sins? Is this a fair sentence for stealing an eraser in first grade? Now you have no chance to apologize to Toby. Maybe for cheating in math? For the white little lies? For…

Whops bang with furor where your heart is supposed to be. You raise your head defiantly, and crack your eyes to the nothingness, mustering courage from who knows where, and open your mouth to shout ‘Whose there?’ ‘Who are you?’ ‘What are you?’ ‘Where am I?’ But your queries clog in your throat like a fireball. You try to stroke a syllable and coat it in your voice, but all you feel is lava trickling down to your chest. You give another try, stubborn as you are– that’s why you ended up here in first place. But this time shards of glass are forced down your throat.

You gag, your fingers curling around your neck as you tumble on your knees. A hiss dashes out through gritted teeth, tears piquing your eyes at the brazen pain of nails stabbing your calves.

Right when you’re about to give up and yield to your fate, looming in the infinite darkness, the gloom begins recoiling into a smoky shade of wispy edges. Black branches gnarl on white, slipping on the indefinite floor and walls, giving form to a soaring shape before you. It grows a bald head with ears, a torso with arms and legs and fingers and toes. No nose, no eyes, no mouth. Yet.

The cold dwindles. Your face rucks up, eyes shut tight, and you turn away from the blinding beam.  It expands to the infinite, to your right, left, front, and back. You take a peek through a slivered open eye and there’s no elongated shadow cast on the floor, as if the light is coming from nowhere, a beam without source.

“Make up your mind.” A sour scorn jabs your ears. “Darkness makes you weep, and light vexes you.”

You lurch back, wide eyes full of fright trembling at the figure standing in front of you. Its arms are folded over its chest, foot tapping on the floor, sketching rippling waves on the surface as if you were standing on a shallow lagoon. A wide toothy grin sprains up to where its eyes are supposed to be.

Your quivering lips part to speak, but this time, what’s holding you back is pure panic, seizing every inch of your body. Spreading from flesh to bones.

“Has the cat got your tongue?”

Your stomach churns, and words heap in your throat. Terror glides beneath your skin.

It sighs and shrugs, its palms facing up. “You must be wondering where are you? And why?”

You gulp, guzzling down the knot, and it takes it like a yes.

It conjures a scroll, unfurls it, and your eyes follow the paring roll until it brushes your feet. The shadow figure reads for itself the intricately engraved markings, whispering in an unrecognizable language, and you wonder how it can read without eyes. It rewinds the manuscript and slides it back into a pouch that slits in its belly. It brings a fist to its mouth, and harrumphs, tilting its head up.

You tip your head to the side, one eyebrow shot upward.

"After inventorying your sins and good deeds, we ruled out the underworld for you. Stealing an eraser from a six-year-old is not frowned upon by the higher ups, nor is lying to your parents.” It shakes its head accusatorily, then bursts into a flaming, whirling form, tittering, and swirling around you. Its voice leaves a somber echo. “Saying you'd stay over with your girlfriends to wantonly cede to the fangs of debauchery.” It reverts to its demi human form and brings its hands to under its chin, steepling its fingers, tips tapping. “What would your parents think if they found out you were sneaking out with the baker's son?” It scratches its head. “Anyway, according to the guidelines, that's not considered a felony. Squashing a cockroach doesn't count as murder. But as you may have noticed,”–it lifts a finger and whirls it in the air. Your eyes dart around, and it continues, “this isn't heaven either. Your application to paradise was rejected." It yawns. "So, you got caught in the middle. No agony, no bliss. Nothing. Just you and me."

You blink twice.

You lower your head, gazing up at it, lashes flitting. “Is there anything I can do to get out of here?” you ask coyly, swinging your head from side to side.

“I thought you were a mute.”

Your frown, folding your arms over your chest. “That doesn’t answer my question.” Irritation enfolds your voice. Your fingers drum over your upper arms as your eyes go blank.

“Try another one.”

“What are you?”

Its smile is sprightly this time.

"I am only a messenger and the one who takes you to your destination, but because of you, we are both trapped in here. We messengers are bound to the souls until we deliver this to gatekeepers of heaven or hell." He fumbles in its back pocket, draws a green gem and holds it in front of you between his thumb and forefinger. "If I don't hand it over, I won't untie myself from you. As simple as that."

"And what did I do? Why can't I get into paradise?" you scowl, jutting out your lower lip. Hands resting on your hips.

"To let shame and the fear of rejection consume you, to let the chances you had to tell him slip away." It raps its tapered fingers on your temple for every word as if he’s drilling a hole.

“Ouch!” Your face contorts as you rub the side of your head.

“You wasted all your chances, crumpled them and threw them in the bin.”

You know exactly that it means. You were brooding over that matter, but you were going to do it, you were determined to spill it out right after the expedition.

But fate dissented.

At least you would have someone to talk to. For ages.

Like a blown-up flame, it snaps away, and panic surges through you again. Lousy company was better than being alone in nothingness. At least it would keep you diverted from your thoughts.

Then, something brushes your nape from behind, grating you like a rough jute blanket, making shivers run down your spine.

It’s light and sturdy, the sensation on your shoulders. The hands squeeze you, and you freeze in the spot. Your body feels so heavy you can’t move, you can’t fight. Its teeth nip your neck, and you loll your head back. You swear you feel its breathing fanning over the thrumming spot beneath your jaw. But it doesn’t even have a nose.

Your muscles tense, and your breath comes out in muffled pants, your legs squirm at the tempting groping. Your eyes close, and you make a huge mistake.

Its palms march down, its mouth nibbles on your neck, and you hate it feels so good. A feeble moan leaps out of your lips.

You can feel the gibing smirk curving against your cheeks.

Your face slathers with deep red.

“Y/N, I love you, I love you.” It’s arms slither around you, holding you tight. That’s not its croaky voice; it’s husky, and soft, and deep, like a rasp of silk, laced with lust. A voice you know too well, a voice that make your knees wobble and your heart gallop.

But a tinge of mockery lingers at the end of each syllable. And you know it’s just teasing with you.

“Leave me alone!!!” you creak. Your hands anchor to its arms and hurl them off. Its obnoxious laughter gurgles out in a hoarse scour.

It lets go, and you spin around.

But it’s not a black human-shaped shadow with the acerbic grin and warped edges. No.

Dizzy with repulsion, you heave, air lodges in your throat, and even if you don’t need oxygen anymore, you feel you’re running out of breath. Your guts wrench.

Levi stands in front of you. Those are his features, those lips you dreamed to kiss, his nose, his expressive thin brows, because, what his heart tucks in, and his words can’t give form, his brows give away.

That silky hair you always wanted to smooth down, to entwined those locks between your fingers and let them slip through.

But there is something off.

The eyes. Not steel gray with a hue of blue, but green, bright green like the stone it showed you twiddling in its fingers. Pale smoke swirls through its gaze.

Scowling, you snarl, “I hate you!”

“Why? Isn’t this what you wanted?” he inches closer, pointing forward his puckered lips into a kiss. “I love you Y/N. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Marry me. We’ll live in the outskirts of the city and bless our home with kids.” He holds his hands together, fingers intertwined, sighing dreamily. A cheap lampoon.

Your brows twitch, your cheeks flushed red. Hands fisting your white skirts. “SHUT UP!”

Your voice echoes, stretching to the endlessness.

“He’ll never say that!” You spit.

“Of course he won’t. You’re dead.” He rolls his eyes.

“Thanks for being so empathetic.” You huff. “I mean, he would’ve never said it that way.”

“Enlighten me then. So I can give you a perfect personification. I’d make your stay more… pleasant.”

No. You don’t want this shoddy illusion. It might look like him, but it’s not him.

“Is there anything I can do?”

The fake Levi pokes a finger in his nose. “For what?”

“To get out of here.”

“You had your chance, you missed it.” He sniffs the booger and flicks it away with his thumb.

“But–“

“It hurts my feelings you don’t want to stay with me.” He splays a hand on his chest and feigns cry. “I promise I’ll be a good partner to roam with in the eternity.”

“I don’t give a shit about your feelings!” You holler back. "I need to get out of here."

“You’re so mean Y/N.” His chin trembles. You loath the way he says your name. Stench coating every letter. “There’s something you can do”

Your eyes fill with hope.

“But I won’t tell.” He turns his face away gruffly.

“Fuck you!”

“That’s not ladylike, Y/N. I’ll lather your mouth with water and soap.”

You blow off a lock of hair from your eyes.

“Tell me.”

“Make me.”

“I’ll give you anything.”

The fake Levi smirks. “Anything?”

“I mean–” you quaver.

“There’s nothing you can give me, there’s nothing I want from you.” He grips your jaw, impelling you to look at him. You try to push him off, but he doesn’t budge. “You’re a pretty one, but I don’t feel–what’s what you call it? Desire? That’s not something I was created for. And your soul? I’m already tethered to you.”

He releases you. A burn of ice scorches where his fingers had pressed.

“Please tell me.”

“I’m not a god, or a devil, or a genie in a bottle.” His lizard green eyes stain with mischief as an idea hatches in his head. What you don’t know is that he only wants to play. “Just so you can see that I’m not as hateful as you think I am, I’ll tell you. There’s only one way, Y/N. You have to shear the thread, the pending issue that keeps you stuck here. You have to tell him what you feel.”

Your eyes furrow. “And how do I do that?”

“I can’t solve everything in your life. Death.” He corrects himself. “Your soul will roam among the living, and you must find a way to deliver the message.”

“How long do I have?”

“Until he dies. If he dies and you can’t tell him, I’ll drag you back here.” He gives you a coy smile. “You have a lifetime, his lifetime.”

You clear your throat to speak, but his voice slices into peals of laughter.

Cracks splinter down its head, neck, and shoulders; black leaks through the crevices, like twisting loose black curls seeping out like water, pooling and spreading boundlessly. It fragmentizes. The shards of the Levi shell it wore disintegrate, melting as in acid. They hiss, and roiling threads of lawn-green smoke swirl above them, wisp edges blur in the nothingness. Your  fumbling legs don’t move, they don’t respond to your commands. You look down and spot the half dozen of snaky limbs trussing your limbs, seizing them, pulling you down. Your face is frozen in a snarl of panic. Your chest tightens, and your throat clogs, and you can’t make a sound.

There are no prankish smirk or green eyes. A menacing void daubs in your stomach, smearing to your chest and throat. A maw full of fangs cracks open beneath your feet.

Here you stand frozen, blackness consuming you; inch by inch, you drown in quicksand. The more you struggle the faster you sink. Pain lances up through your feet, sudden and sharp. You gaze down in search of a wound, but your ankles are already submerged under the blackness. Its laughter becomes a strident noise as pain climbs and infects your calves and shins and soon it’s twisting your knees, your thighs, your hips and on.

Your raucous weep encroaches the piercing chortle. Your throat flares up as you tug at the collar of your dress, trying to tear it apart, but it clings into your skin, cinching tighter. Tears wedge out through the line of your lashes, pampering your face, stinging your lips. The saltiness swabs your mouth.

“Those who risk nothing don’t deserve to go to hell or to the altars.” Its hoarse voice echoes, each syllable thrums in your ears.

A tinkling, and it all shatters.

Legs flutter, arms flounder.

You’re falling, falling, swallowed by the abyss.

I

Supple snores brush past his lightly parted lips. You watch his back rise and fall steadily. One arm stretched out. His cheek is sprawled on the last document he was reviewing last night before dozing off with the quill trapped in his fingers. The blotch of black expanded in a circle with warped edges until it ran out of ink.

He looks cute, you think. In your eyes he always looks adorable. Even with the creases sullying between his eyebrows, and his arms crossed over his chest.

Serenity envelops him, granting him a few hours of well-deserved peace.

Three hours.

He did well last night.

You poke him, try to, but the tip of your finger doesn’t dent his pillowy cheek. Instead, it goes through him. A reminder that you’re here, but not. Between cero and one there’s an infinity, just like between you and him. You strew your hand and bring it over his cheek, flimsily caressing, but you feel nothing under your phantom touch. There’s no warmth, nor the tenderness of his skin. You wonder whether he feels something when you’re looming around, a sudden cold or warmth, the air lighter or denser. You take every chance you get to tangle yourself in his hair, to breath down on his neck, supplicating that he can feel you.

But you had your time to gamble, and you missed your shot.

Feel me.

He’s slobbering, a cord of saliva dribbles out, spattering the letters in charcoal black. His khaki jacket is perched on the backrest. His cravat hooked loosen around his neck.  The firsts two buttons of his shirt undone.

Two years ago, heat would have grazed your core by a tiny bit of exposed skin. A simple glimpse of ripping collarbones, or broad shoulders, rippling muscles or a glance of his perfectly sculpted chest, or veiny arms, or…

You shake off the naughty thoughts.

Even two years after, a single peek of any inch of his flesh has the same effect on you.

You can’t help it. It’s always been like that, even a simple exchange of Hi’s had your legs shaking, and your cheeks broiling red as if his gaze and his voice have caught you in a spell. You are the sun that runs helplessly behind the moon.

But it’s not just the straightforward gravity of lust that had you spinning around his orbit. Yes, Levi got the looks–though others might demur–but it’s much more than carnal desire. You could always see through his façade, wondering how much energy and self-restrain it takes to keep it on all the time. But if you look heedfully, if you don’t succumb to the intensity of his gaze and the chastisement of his frown, you can see it. The Levi who feels to much, at a jarring intensity it lacerates his heart, and he doesn’t have enough time to patch it up when another stab wounds him. The dial of his heart is broken, most likely a manufacturing defect or a childhood trauma that left the volume all the way up.

There were so many blows that life threw at him, mercilessly, and the pain stretched long and unbearably sharp; thus, he learned to numb them off and protect himself. An insensitive lunatic, they say. And he couldn’t care less of what they think. It’s just a survival tactic.

That’s the Levi you fell in love with. The Levi who cares too much, who puts everyone else before him, who’ll never accept he’s good with kids and animals.

The tea lover and the clean freak.

The scared boy who used his strength to survive in a world that doesn’t  set limits to cruelty.

You love the Levi who is too sensitive to the sunlight.

The Levi who cocoons under his covers and quilt in winter, and files complaints to the sweltering summer for coating him in a nasty clammy layer.

The Levi he hides under the hull.

The Levi who doesn’t carry the boulder of being Humanity’s strongest soldier.

I love you. You hover over behind him, humming a lullaby he’ll never hear. Your ghostly fingers linger along the line of his chin and nose, draw his eyebrows, the line of his lashes. You try to flick a lock of hair, but it doesn’t flinch. Shove your hand between the disheveled strands, but you go through his skull.

Creepy.

A sigh whizzes out.

But you’re a persistent one, and just like every morning, you drag your lips to his in hope that this time it will be different.

The prince waking up the princess from the enchantment. But he’s not a princes and you’re not a prince, and this is not a kids tale.

You watch his reaction closely. Your mouth remains a millimeter away from his; you close the gap and steel gray eyes snap open wide. You don’t move, you don’t retreat. You wait; he’s staring aghast, and for a second you believe today is the day the planets align, but thin black eyebrows sink into a scowl and a ‘tch’ traipse out of his mouth.

The legs of his chair screech on the wooden floor, and he hauls up on his feet, wiping off his drool with the back of his hand, still unaware of the shapeless black blot on his cheek.

You step back, shooting a brow upward, tilting your head to the side, and swiftly spin around. You watch him stomp to the shelf jammed with hefty tomes of leather-bound encyclopedias and biographies, their spines adorned with curving gold letters and neat patterns. He stands before it, stretches up, putting his weight on his toes, and rubs off a speck of dust with a cloth he drew out from his pocket.

“Levi” You groan his name, pulling off your hair, fighting the urge to kick his desk.

You can walk past through people and animals, but not through objects. Though, you can’t really touch them. You can push them, but never grab them, they’d slip from your fingers. Once, desperate to get his attention from the engrossing paperwork, you drop a ceramic mug from his desk. The quill fell from his hand, and stunned, he stared at the shards scattered on the floor, swarmed in his precious tea. The flickering light of the candle danced coarsely on his dilated pupils; he slammed down the mesh in his throat, and shook his head in disbelief, smacking the heel of his hand on his forehead.

It must’ve been the lack of sleep, he convinced himself.

Besides, your task is to confess your feelings, not to scare the shit out of him or render him believe he’s gone mad.

Another tch spills out of him when he spots the black smudge of ink stretching from the heel of his hand to his pinkie finger. He struts back to the table and his eyes flicker to the print he left on the paper.

“Fuck.”

He’ll need a copy of the report.

Why not to write a message or a letter? The quill slithers. However, about a month after this all started, when the headquarters still perched close to Shiganshina, you tried to trap the pen clamped between your hands. That day, Levi attended a meeting with Shadis, Erwin, Hange and the other squad leaders to discuss arrangements for the following mission. Levi was still a low rank soldier, yet a promising one who had already become a key piece in the game. The rest of the cadets were hectic with muscle wrenching training.  You stayed in the boys' dorms, battling with defiance as the shadow twitted and scoffed on your back. With the quill teetering in your hands, you dipped it in the inkwell, but as soon as the nip scratched the paper, the ink was swallowed by the fiber. No matter how many times you tried, you could not write more than one stroke.

You couldn’t leave a message whittled on a tree bark or carved in soil; you couldn’t leave a print. Nothing.

Because you didn’t belong here.

You follow Levi to the adjacent room. A light blend of bergamot and lavender lingers in the air. The warm summer breeze caresses his face as the window swings open, particles of dust sway freely in the first morning glow. His bed is untouched, perfectly taut, no wrinkles etched in the sheets.

What a waste.

You rush to the bathroom door, and rest against the frame on your shoulder, arms folded over your chest and legs crossed at the ankles.

Your eyes are hooked to each of his movements. Opening his wardrobe door, he flicks his eyes along the row of light blue shirts and white pants. He takes his time as if he had a fan of options unfurled before him like a girl choosing a gown to a ball. He slides the hangers across the metal railing, one finger curled against his chin.

It’s not science, Levi. You roll the eyes.

And he emerges from the closet with a shirt and a pair of pants hooked on his arm, looking exactly at the clothes he fell asleep with. He hangs them on the backrest of his wing chair and sits on the edge of the bed, next to the nightstand. He pulls out the bottom drawer, delving into, and draws a pair of white briefs.

He thuds the drawer close with his leather-clad foot and heads to the bathroom, leaving the clean underwear perched too on the chair.

You stand there under the door frame, feet shoulder width apart, the back of your hands set on your hips. You slant forward, determination smeared across your eyes.

I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU, you shout, I LOVE YOU, LEVI.

Nothing.

Grumbling, you press the heels of your hands over your eyes and screak with hopelessness. You clout your temples, tears flooding in your eyes. Stupid, stupid, Y/N, why didn’t you knock on the door?

You look up and mumble, I love you, Levi. I love, you. Your voice breaks, and your chin trembles.

But nothing.

He ducks into the bathroom, walking past through you. The skirts of your dress billow as you turn around. You wipe your tears away, and you know what’s coming next. You are a bystander every morning, and his routine is almost unflappable.

You've seen him undress in front of you hundreds of times, and the desire never dissipates. A tingle crawls in your belly every time you look at him unseemly. The only perk of being invisible. An indecent show exclusive for you.

However, seeing and not touching is a curse.

His clothes pool at his feet and you can’t help but bite your bottom lip, relishing in the enthralling image. You close one eye and trace a svelte finger along the rebel locks of hair, pointing in every direction, his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cupid bow, his chin, and jaw and Adam’s apple, his taut chest. You draw a circle around his tiny nipple. You continue downwards. The sun that pours through the small casement window catches the angles and planes of his perfectly chiseled torso, the V-cut abs, the ripped obliques, making him look like a statue carved by a master of the art. Your eyes meander along the line of hair marching down that disappears under his boxers. A dented line trails along his thick and flexed outer thighs.

His underwear is still in place, and you sulk. His booty is perky and round and bitable.

Distress surges through you, twisting your stomach. Like a gust of cool wind, it steps behind you. You and your sinful thoughts. Its voice is a ragged whisper that blisters your nape. Your knees go rubbery. He could’ve been yours.

The air is denser and torrid behind you.

You clear your throat and say without looking back, Rejection was a possibility too.

Levi spits out the toothpaste, and takes a sip of water from the cup, swishes, and spits again, and wipes his mouth on a washcloth. 

Dumb and dumber, perfect for each other. Its last words waft away. You nibble on your lower lip and look over your shoulder, but it’s already gone. Momentary alleviation swaddles you again, your hands, little by little, stop trembling. You never know when it’s going to show up again. It may show up the next minute, or you may not hear from it for a month.

You watch Levi lean over the sink, closer to the mirror, furrowing his brows at the stain on his cheek. He lifts his chin, one hand stroking his jawline, tilting his face to the sides.

Levi, you shaved two days ago.

Yet you know he can’t stand stubbles. He first wipes off the black smudge. Then slathers shaving oil on the target area and picks up the dark wood. From the handle, he unfolds it. The stainless-steel blade catches the sunlight in a bright gleam that flashes on the mirror. He holds the razor to his jaw, and the blade smoothly glides in short strokes. Water trickles from the faucet and he rinses the blade. Again, the sharp edge scrapes. He cleanses it, lifts his chin, pulls it back, and it slides again.

Once done, he cleans the blade and folds the razor, and places the mahogany handle on the countertop. You slip behind him, but there’s only one person looking back from the mirror. He washes his face and swabs a towel gently, pats his clean-shaven cheeks and lolls his head, flicking his hair to the side, running his fingers over his undercut. It’s soft and he briefly notes it’s gotten long.

Not today.

Soon Hange will be banging on his door.

His fingers anchor to the hem of his briefs, pull them down, and he kicks them off. Your eyes beam with tinge of lust, your cheeks scorching red. How bad you want to smack that booty. You shake your head, ‘sinful thoughts, sinful thoughts, don’t forget you can still go to hell.’

Levi gets into the shower and sweeps the curtain. Water whooshes down, and you strut back to his room. Groaning, you fall back on his bed, running down your palms over your face.

Day seven hundred and fifty two, and you’ve made no progress. This is not going anywhere. Why don’t you help me? You ask the shadow, you know he is listening, but you don’t get an answer.

If you help me, both of us will benefit, you know?

Screw you.

It doesn’t have a name, he said, and you don’t want to give it one. It’d strengthen your bond, and that’s the last you wish.

Water stops running, and a minute later, Levi steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, lucky drops of water trickle down the ridges of his abs. You’re jealous of them because they can caress his skin. You roll onto your side, head prop on your elbow, your hair spilling down over the sheets.

Several times has the wind accidentally knocked the towel off.

He wipes his hair dry with another towel and tosses it away as he makes his way to the chair where his clothes are piled on.

He briskly dons his clothes, slip into his boots, and straps on. He fixes his cravat, and smooths down his hair. Picks up his towels and hangs them on the hooks in the bathroom.

Levi sighs and toddles to his office, closing the door to his room with a soft thud.

Seven bells break through the window, and while the last chime still resounds, three bangs drag him to the door.

Levi slips aside, and Hange steps inside, but they don’t show up alone. A night-black ball of hair is cradled in their arms, puffing up and down soundly.

“Good mor—”

“Get that thing out of here,” he scoffs as a sour grimace creeps across his face.

“Bu—”

He clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes, “I don’t want cat hair in my office.”

You witness the scene, and one green eye peeks open, drifting to you, filled with haughtiness.

Kick that cat out of here, Hange.

 It casts a grim glance at you.

That’s not even a cat.

 It purrs against their chest.

“Isn’t it cute?”

“No.”

No.

You reply in unison, but of course they can’t hear you.

A scowl tugs your brows together, your fists are clenched by your sides, your jaw set forward, teeth gritting so tight they might crack. That’s not possible, though, but the pressure mars you.

Meow. It yawns and leaps off Hange, making them lurch back.  

Its tail curls inward as it prances with indifference, swaying with arrogance. It stretches its back and curls at your feet. Levi’s eyes go blank, and heads to the bookshelf. Hange sinks into the couch and turns sideways to watch Levi standing on his toes, reaching out for a mug, their knee hitched up onto the sofa. They let out a chuckle, coaxing a death-sentence glower from the ravenette.

They lift their hands in the air, palms out as a sign of peace. “So, you also heard about the new tea supplies.”

“Yeah,” one corner of his lips quirks up.

Murmurs from the hallway percolate into his bureau. He left the door open, and more and more soldiers plod by down the corridor, heading for the training camp.

Levi owns a fine 13-piece tea set in white china that rests symmetrically on the top shelf. Six flare-shape cups graced with golden rims and handle rest on their saucers. The guava shaped teapot, adorned with a pattern of graciously painted spring flowers is settled in the middle. A little further to the right lies a mug that does not fit the set. And that’s the one Levi goes for.

Your eyes light up as you let out a sigh that coalesces hope and melancholy. A feeble, meek smile curves in your lips as Levi runs his thumb over the hand-painted dahlias. It was delicately crafted by nimble hands, something Levi deeply appreciates. His shoulders sag lightly, and he closes his eyes, sucking in a deep, cleansing breath.

“That’s a pretty one, Levi.”

Thanks Hange. It took me months, and tears of frustration to finish it before his birthday.

“It was a present,” he muses wistfully, raking his fingers through his hair, and pads toward Hange.

“From who?” Hange hauls onto their feet and slings an arm around Levi’s shoulders. “Don’t tell me it was from Y/N?” They wink and reel closer, waggling their eyebrows as Levi inches away, blushing and averting his eyes.

A pang of faith jabs within your chest, and you swallow the skein of despondency and misery, a drop of optimism fans out over your gaze. The cat’s ears twitch, and it gazes up, those penetrating green eyes meet yours and you can feel the dashes of scorn stabbing you, yet you won’t let him win this time. You cast a smug smile, then your eyes scoot to Levi and Hange as they strut together to the door.

“How do you know?” Levi stammers, and you raise a brow. His tapered fingers curl tight around the ceramic mug.

“Levi…” Hange sighs patting his back, their shoulders sag. “Sometimes it amazes me how thick you can be on certain issues.”

You rest against the desk, entwining your fingers and you bring your clasped hands to your chin, legs crossing and uncrossing. A deep red shade crawls across your cheeks. Today might be the day, the day you’ll break the curse. Come on, Hange, you whisper.

Levi halts in his tracks and flings Hange’s arm off him. His eyebrows plummet into a frown. “Explain yourself.”

Yes, Hange, explain yourself.

You watch with the suspense as when your team is about to score. You feel your hear thrumming recklessly, shivers dashing down your spine.

“Don't tell me you never noticed it.” The titan freak pinches the bridge of their nose, shaking their head, and drags out a long breath.

“Noticed what?” Levi bellows, creased lines marring his forehead and between his brows.

“The way she looked at you.” Hange exhales, a forlorn smile blooming in their lips. They squeezed Levi’s shoulder and mutters, “I’m sorry.”

One baby step.

Dumbfounded, Levi stares at them with wide open eyes that quail under the weight of their pensive gaze. His lips tremble too. He gulps, and lets his brows sink into a scowl. His heart kicks against his chest, and his face is mottled with redness, though Hange can’t tell whether it’s anger of embarrassment.

“Don’t talk trash.” He barks and storms out; Hange shrugs and follows him, closing the door behind them.

Your arms fall by your sides, your shoulders flump, and your head hangs forward as if it’s too heavy for your neck to support; your hair, jarred loose from the usual moorings, fling over your head. Your hands grip the wooden rim so hard color begins to drain from your fingers. Tears slide down your cheeks and fall, but they never touch the floor, they dissolve right before crashing on the polished wood, a chasm so thin and infinite that separates you from their world.

It’s not a cat anymore. A black shade stands next to you. A haughty smile spread across its somber face; its contemptuous laughter flays your skin. An arm swings around you, and you tip your head, your eyes crashing with the fake Levi’s. Smoke swishes in those disquieting pupils. Tears had stained your cheeks, minced your throat to a scalding soreness. You stare at him without rasping a word, trying to numb the pain away. It hurts too much.

Hopelessness infects you like a meat-eating bacterium. Time ticks, his time is ticking, and the fear of never seeing him again erodes every inch of your flesh.

This woe cut a hole right through you with a rusty knife.

Even dead, you’re not immune to pain.

You hurl him off.

“Oi! Y/N!”

You turn your head to him, swollen and glassy eyes wide open, mouth slightly parted, lips quavering. “Could you stop saying my name in his voice?” You plead in a wavering voice.

But he only snorts, a devilish smirk grazing those beautiful features. “It wouldn’t be fun, Y/N.” He grips your chin harshly, and you have no strength to fight him. “Love is your curse, sweetheart. Come with me. We´ll have each other for eternity.”

2

You drown a roaring yawn in the palm of your hand and wipe away the tear peeking at the corner of your eye. Disdain and disappointment suffuse the crowds’ faces. A cloud of pessimism and distrust hover over the streets of Shiganshina. The great bell chimes, and the chains rattle as the door to the outer world rises. Holding the reins in the curve between your thumbs and forefingers, you pat your face to wake you up. You suck in a long breath to steady the drumming beats of your heart. Even though it’s not your first expedition, apprehension fizzes through your veins, increasing the adrenaline in your system.

Shadis orders advance. Amid whistles and jeers, and the clopping of the hooves, you pass through the main gate, and the formation soon deploys.

No one had forecasted the ashy gray clouds rolling from the east.

Shouts ensnare with cries, and you can’t remember at what moment you fell from the horse. It must have slipped in the mud. Pain exploded in your face as you smacked against the ground. Splattered blood dappled your uniform, though you didn’t know if it belonged to your comrades or if it was your own. Your fingers burned, yet you managed to drag battered body to under a tree.

You slump against the trunk and a thick fog blurs your vision, and through the daze you glimpse bodies being tossed away by a savage giant. Wires buzz and click and snap. Wails of agony seem so distant. A short film in sepia flicker before your eyes, the story of your life. The door unfolds in front of you, and you try to lift your hand and rap your knuckles against the oak wood, like that day. That time, what got on your way was fear, the fear of rejection, the fear of not being good enough; now, what’s stopping you from knocking is life slipping away through your fingers like a river slithering through the rocks.

You can’t coax the earth to spin in reverse, you can’t go back in time. And now rue dashes through you like a vine of thistles scraping your chest. The sinners by omission are also reprimanded, and you learn that in the harshest way as Charon approaches, but panic surges through you because you don’t have a coin for the ferryman. Perhaps another divinity that doesn’t charge for its services will take pity on your soul.

Numbness starts to spread though your limbs. Crimson sprouts from your left thigh and your right side, and there’s a splinter too following the line of your collarbone. Little by little, the tingle from your hands and feet recedes as if they’re detaching from you.

Your breath shallows, and you shudder in pain, hissing. The affliction branches across your leg and torso and shoulder like lightning, red smears over your uniform. Your fumbling hands are not strong enough to clutch the wounds and deter the bleeding. The stains feel warm, and you fight to not close your eyes. But your eyelids feel leaden with weariness.

Through the haze, covered in soil and blood, your fingernails look a faint blue. Your body feels heavy, and it’s anchored to the ground as if made of solid rock, as if your eyes had mingled with Medusa’s.

You’re perspiring in delirium. Scrunching up your face, you bite your bottom lip until the taste of iron stings your mouth. Pain eases pain, you tell yourself. Your arms fall by your sides, the bark feels rough against your back, and a meek smile tugs at your lips. At least you’re feeling something, that means, you’re still tied up to this world. Maybe, maybe, he’ll come back on time.

You cry tears you hadn’t realized you had left. You’re ladling them out from the reserve, from the last wave of devastation. Tears that endorse the truth you’re still reluctant to accept.

You’re tired as though you’re swimming in a lake of molasses, desperately fluttering, but it keeps pulling you down.

An invisible wire of fear seizes your chest, and you cling to your last breath, waiting for him.

The chirp of the grasshoppers and the rustling of the leaves and branches fade away. The world slowly shuts down, and you gaze up, close your eyes and pray for any deity to have mercy on you.

So, this is the end?

Alone, sweaty, muddy.

Frightened, beaten, impotent.

And then, you see Levi.

The cause of your bliss and frustration. Of your songs and reticence.

Levi, Levi, Levi.

With your last breath you repeat his name, his name that slips from your lips like honey.

Y/N who was always late for any important event in her life but arrives early to her own death.

It’s alright.

You’re at peace.

You’re not afraid.

You’re ready.

And those frames, those moments that could’ve been, but will never be project like a motion picture before your eyes.

You and Levi, napping under the sun, belly’s brimming with cheese and wine and fruits.

You stroking Levi’s hair as he reads aloud for the two a verse that binds you together.

Levi, pressing you down into the bed, fingers intertwined, hearts beating wild, and breaths coming out in muffled pants, your name dribbling out of his mouth, echoing in your hair.

You and Levi in the kitchen, your face covered in wheat flour as you knead the bread dough, and Levi next to you whipping the heavy cream until it turns to butter

You, chasing him to cup his face in your hands, while the place suffuses with the rich smell of freshly baking bread.

You and Levi, and two kids with black hair and deep gray eyes running around in a cottage at the outskirts of the city, making a mess and driving you crazy.

You, aging by his side.

A tear slides down your face. Your eyes are burdensome with drowsiness.

It’s not alright.

And you’re not at peace. Why couldn’t you open the door?

And you’re scared. You’re frightened to die out here alone. It should be in his arms, and not in mud.

You’re not ready. You have to tell him, he needs to know.

Please, please, please, if anyone is listening, please, give me another chance.

But the heartbeats you have left are not enough.

II

“So, I did this to myself, didn’t I?”

“it was just a coincidence.” Its fingers drum on its sternum. “Pleading or not, you wouldn’t fend off this.”

The earth has revolved around the sun three times already. The colossus titan, the armored titan and the female titan had mingled with the cadets of the 104th. Annie Leonhart is encased in her indestructible crystal, kept somewhere underground by the military police.

Now the survey corps are set to retake wall Maria and scavenge the truth from Eren’s basement. Eren, the boy who can transform into a titan and fights along humanity.

You and it are laying on the meadow in the shade of an oak tree. It is facing the sky as you toy with a curl of hair, your eyes hooked on the lock laced around your finger.

“Why? Why did you choose him?” For the first time, you sense a hue of qualm lacing its abrading voice.

“You talk as though we get to choose love.” You close your eyes, yielding to the lulling murmur of the breeze. You can hear it, yet you can’t feel it caressing your skin. “Love is a lightning bolt that breaks your bones and leaves you staked in the middle of the yard.”

“It sounds painful.” He notes in that husky voice that stirs your senses. “Why humans insist on finding love, if it hurts them?”

“You’re not human; thus, you’ll never understand.” You slip an arm beneath your head. “Maybe we’re are masochists that jump blindly into the abysm of this pleasant torture. It makes your heart beat wildly, thrashing within your ribs, threatening to breach your chest and jump out every time you see that person. Your cheeks get warm and red, and your mouth disconnects from your brain, and you end up spilling nonsense and embarrassing yourself.” Your lips curved into a meek smile. “And their voice makes your knees weak, and a single glance unleashes a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, and their image live in your head, and you can’t kick them out. Love makes you simper like and idiot. And I don’t think there’s a more beautiful feeling.”

The cheap copy of Levi hoists onto his elbows and his eyes glide along your frame, frowning. “Humans are weird species. I would never stoop to be like a mere mortal.” He sticks out its tongue in disgust. “Why do you insist so much in a love that won’t be?”

You chuckle. “It must be lonely to be you. You’ve met many people in the way, yet you can’t cultivate bonds. So many names and faces and no one will ever know yours, no one will never remember you.”

His nostrils flare with rage. “You know it’s not fun anymore, you’d failed a thousand times and you’ll keep failing. You should surrender now.”

“No. I won’t give up. If he knows the feelings I hoarded for him, I’ll go to paradise and I’ll meet him there eventually.”

“How can you be so certain he won’t go straight to the underworld?” he nudges.

“I don’t think there’s a most caring soul in this world.” You nibble on your lip, and your eyes flit open. “He's done things he's not proud of, but in this world, you have to choose between eat and get eaten.”

You scratch and itch on your nose and close your eyes again.

He rolls over and curls against you, draping an arm around you, and pulls you closer. Straight black hair like silk, thin black eyebrows, fair skin; his lips, like the rest of him feel like ice against your skin. His kisses trail along your jawline, sneaking down to your neck, and his caresses blister your skin as though he was clasping a collar of hot stones around you.

“You know you can come with me.” He mutters in that sultry voice that cajoles your brain cells to go on strike.

“I’ve followed him close all these years. I can be the perfect Levi if you want me to.” His hands fondle your upper arms. Your teeth sink into your lips. Your hands clamp at your skirts.

“Let it out, say the name.” You feel his lips forming a grin against your cheek.

It’s playing with you, it’s tempting you, but you’re not falling in the trap.

No.

One leg swings over you, and now he’s on top. “Look at me.” He tilts your chin up with a finger, but your eyes are clamped shut, so tight you see color spirals behind your lids.

You won’t succumb to its trickery.

But you squirm when you feel something hard straining on your lower belly, and a dreadful sardonic chortle spews from him.

Damn, you didn’t know it could do that.

“I can give you what you want.”

You shake your head. “You told me once you couldn’t feel pleasure. Why are you doing this?” You sniff.

His knuckles skim over your cheek. “I take pleasure in watching you struggle with yourself. You’re a masterpiece.” His fingers dig in your cheeks, and he shakes your head boorishly.

Fuck, the pressure feels good, but no. You won’t lose in this game.

“If his heart still beats, I have time. And there is only one Levi.” You push him off and it takes his original shady form, crow-black with tarnished edges. It’s tittering wryly, and groaning, you stand, smoothing down your dress. You start striding away, without looking back.  

“Where are you going?”

You don’t need to reply, it knows exactly where you’re heading, and it follows your steps.

The sun slants from the west. Synchronized chains clatter and shrill, spooling and unreeling in the sheaves on both sides of the walls; the elevators crammed with soldiers and horses and supplies. You spot Levi, and your stomach churns and flips and twist as if someone or something was grappling your guts. ‘That’s right. The operation might fail…’ His words rumble in your head, again and again, and your eyes jump over the faces you can’t put a name on. Too many unexperienced soldiers stand atop the wall. A bleak drop of sweat dribbles down your spine, and your legs begin to tremble. A lump made of shards of glass lacerates your throat as you gulp.

Well, well. A chaotic squall erupts behind you, the air thickens around you. Citizens have gathered up to cheer and buoy the Survey Corps before departing. The send-off they always deserved. After all, The S.C saved the city.

“Hange!!!!”

Your head cranes toward the voice source. Flegel Reeves, the chubby man with freckle-dappled face shouts from a tower encouraging the throng. Soon more people join him.

Your heart jerks and clogs your throat.

You can’t die, Levi. Not, yet, no.

You wish you could follow him, but you’re shackled to the messenger, and you can't walk away from it. You’ve tried, but as soon as you cross the threshold, you’re brought back to it.

Look at you, you look like a soldier's girlfriend watching the train pull away.  It mocks, yet you don’t know what a train is. And you don’t ask.

I still have so many lives to steal from your lips. Please come, back.

1

Always lurking, always watching from the distance. Like a ghost. You know his schedules by heart, you know his favorite brand of tea, you know where he buys his brooms and bleach, and who fashions his shirts and pants tailored to his needs. You know he trains alone in the grounds at dusk and takes a shower after. You know he doesn’t like visiting Hange’s lab because it doesn’t meet his hygiene standards; there are always papers and books scattered around, and sometimes he’s spotted dust monsters in the corners of the ceiling. Land that strays from his domains.

You know how mold can ruin his day, as well as a too-long steeped tea. Three minutes is all you need.

And lavender lingers from his clothes encroaching his luring scent of bergamot and musk.

The sun yawns sluggishly from west, putting his nightcap on, tucking under the covers to give way to the full moon.

The moon and the sun are lovers who, despite the distance, know they have each other, and despite their differences, when they come together they form a perfect eclipse.

A shy smile grazes your flustered face.

Blades swish in the air, wires drone, gas fizzes; Levi moves with great dexterity and speed it’s hard to keep your eyes on him. Chips of bark fall from where the hooks grapple and retract.

He lands and wipes off the beads of sweat from his forehead. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself and praying that your heartbeat doesn't echo through the forest. Today you’ll tell him. You’ve practiced a hundred of times before the mirror and you’re ready. You command your legs to move forward, but they don’t respond. They’d become jelly.

Like every time, the unreasonable fear stings your hands and feet, as if they were pricking you under your nails with needles. Fear of rejection, fear that your feelings will not be reciprocated. Fear that he'll think you're a fool.

“Boo!”

You scramble back, clinging to a tree as not to fall on your bumps. You survive the heart attack and take a deep breath, running your fingers through your hair.

“Hange!” You blurt their name as they slither to your side, resting their elbow on your shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid.” They encourage you, gripping your wrist with one hand to quell your nerves.

“I’m just leaving.” Your voice falters.

They sigh, throwing their head forward, then turns their face to you. “You’re helpless.”

“But…” You slump, running a hand down your face. “Do you think I’m good enough?”

“What I or others think shouldn’t matter to you. But, in my humble opinion, I think you can give Levi the fairy tales he needs in his life.”

You glance to the ground, following the leaf-laden ants back to their burrows. Your face burns in lava red. “Whenever I’m standing in front of him, my brain stops working. I can’t drag a word out of my mouth. I’m afraid he thinks I’m stupid.”

“I don’t think he thinks you’re stupid.” They shake their head, a feeble smile creeping across their lips.

You purse your lips into a thin line.

They pat your shoulder. “I hope you’ll soon find the courage to tell him.”

*

And the chasm between summer and winter narrows in the blink of an eye. The naked tree branches rake the stony walls with an eerie screech. The whistling wind bangs at the doors and windows, and a white mantle stretches over the training grounds and the orchard. The 25th is circled in red on your calendar. You sign the card and put the quill on the holder. You’ve spent all fall working on Levi’s present. Working the clay and shaping it on the wheel was the easiest part of the process, it was therapeutic, to feel the moist, heavy soil slipping in your hands and fingers. Painting the dahlias, on the other hand, brought you to tears, challenging your resilience. At the end, all the hard work paid off, and you couldn’t be more content and confident with the result.

You wrap it up in burgundy tissue paper and tie a golden ribbon at the top, curling the edges with a blade. Then slip the card in the envelope. The chair squeaks and you stand up, wrapping the scarf around your neck. Happy birthday, Levi. You repeat in your head as you pad toward the library. One of the places where Levi spends his sleepless nights and mornings alone. The boys’ quarters are obnoxiously loud for him. And filthy.

Happy birthday, Levi. It’s that simple Y/N, you can’t fuck it up.

The door is ajar, and you push it open.

He lies along the couch, ankles crossed over the armrest, book flapped open on his chest. He puts the bookmark and sets the hefty book on the coffee table. “Hi.” He spews, sliding up into a sitting position, and takes a glimpse of the wrapped up object in your arms. You don’t see his blush taking over his pallor because you’re struggling to steady the whops of your heart.

“Good morning, Levi.” You avert the eyes, suck on your bottom lip before continuing. Levi heaps on his feet and pads to you, and him so close to you is causing your brain cells to snap. “I…uh… I’m just…” you shake your head, then gaze up, and your eyes crash with his. “Happy birthday.” You smile, dimple at full display. Feeling giddy and faint, you hand him the present, and he stares at it, squinting, head tilted to the side. “It’s not a time bomb, I swear.” You giggle and a flush of embarrassment dashes to his ears. He grabs it and a stammered thanks flees from him.

You both blame the cold for painting your cheeks pink, both oblivious to each other’s feelings.

“Well, uh…” Your eyes scoot around as your finger scratches your temple, your cheeks scalding red. “I hope you like it.”

“May I unwrap it?” His words stumble, and he holds captive his lower lip between his teeth, fighting the urge to slap himself.

“Sure, I mean, it’s yours, you can do whatever you want.”

He plops on the couch, the present sprawled on his lap, and his deft fingers move with such patience and daintiness as not to rip off the paper. So carefully as if he was actually deactivating a bomb.

“Take a seat.” He mutters without taking his eyes off his task.

You nod and comply, sitting at the other end of the sofa, fidgeting with the ends of your scarf. Levi wears a cozy dark-green wool sweater, and a knitted white cap.

The delicate paper opens like a sunflower under the grace of the sunlight. He lifts the mug at his eye level, his fingers running over the hand-painted flowers, so detailed it seems like the work of an expert. He’s been at every ceramics shop and ateliers in town, and he’s never seen this design. “It’s beautiful,” he murmurs for himself. Then drifts his eyes to you. “You didn’t have to.”

A chuckle snaps from you. “Why not? It’s a special day, you deserve something special.” You simper timidly, a foot shuffling against the floor.

“It must’ve been a special edition.”

“Kinda. It’s a Y/N’s edition.”

Levi lolls his head lightly to the side.

“I crafted it myself.”

He looks back to the mug now resting on the table next to the book. “You’re talented,” he utters and turns his face to you, and your mouth falls open in bewilderment.

“What?” he raises a brow, his features still gilded with a smile.

Your soft giggles fondle him as the corners of your lips curve up into a dazzling smile. “You should smile more often.”

“Do you think so?” One eyebrow draws an arc.

“Yeah.”

You scramble up, yanking off the sofa, and begin to stalk to the door.

“Wait.”

You spin around on your heels, tipping your head to the side. Expecting. Your heart thudding loud and clear.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. And the thrill falters.

A drop of disillusionment spreads across your chest. You shove your hand in your pocket, crumpling the letter.

“You’re a mystery.” You trail.

“That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“It’s not a compliment.” You turn around, your boots thumping on the creaking wood. You look over your shoulder. “It’s a threat.”

*

Your clothes stick to your skin in sweat, and the breeze that seeps through the corridor windows doesn’t bring respite, it strikes you like a heat wave, as if you were standing before a blazing hearth.

Your heartbeats muffle the thudding of your boots, rumbling in your ears like the drums of a marching band.

Your eyes skim the door to the boys’ room. Your knuckles rap and Damian, a cadet that graduated with you in the training Corps, pokes his head through the wedge. “What’s up, Y/N?” he doesn’t bother to stifle his yawn.

“Where’s Levi?”

He shrugs, “Haven’t seen him today. Did you check in the Library?”

“That was my last stop.”

“What about the kitchen? Must be enrolled in his tea ritual right now.”

Why didn’t it cross your mind before? You were that engrossed practicing in front of the mirror.

You shoot him a smile and thank him before swiftly swiveling back on your feet. You trot to the kitchen, wiping off the beads of sweat streaming down your temple. you go down the stairs two steps at a time and once you veer around the corner, you slow down, threading a hand in your hair. The clattering of cutlery and ceramic reaches you in the hallway. The whistle of the kettle breaches in the air.

And again, your heart gallops in your chest when you hear a ‘tch’. You raise your hand, and the pads of your fingers brush over the door veins. Your breath comes out in a staggered gust of air as you muster the courage you need to knock.

But you can’t. That shrilly voice breaks into your head, reminding you that you’re not good enough. That Levi would never fixate his eyes in a silly girl like you. The voice that hampers your plans and dreams, the voice that makes you feel small and vulnerable. The voice that anchors you to your comfort zone.

You’re not good enough.

And you believe it.

Your hands and forehead rest on the door as tears swell in your eyes, staining your face and stinging your mouth with salt.

Maybe, after the expedition.

III

“I’m just wondering, why does it take a life ending to learn how to cherish every opportunity? Why must we wait until we run out of time to muster the courage to do the things we never did when we had plenty of time?” You slouch on the bench.

“Fear. Fear of what others might think or say, fear of letting them down, fear of being laughed at, fear to risk and lose. Fear is a survival mechanism, but poorly managed can hale you away from the joy and bliss.” It flumps on the bench next to you and hunches forward, resting its arms on the knees. “when people looks at Death straight in the eye, they don’t regret what they did, they mourn over the things they didn’t do. I’ve seen the despair and disappointment in thousands of pleading eyes.”

“What’s in heaven? What’s paradise like?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never crossed the gates. Maybe awaits what you cherish the most.” It turns its face to you. “What’s that you yearn for?”

It knows the answer, but it wants to hear it from you, it wants your voice to stab his chest.

“I want a life with him.”

“I see.”

The not real Levi stands and offers you a hand. “Let’s take a walk. I know you like the market.”

You take it. You meander around, hand in hand. After all, he is the only one you can feel in your skin. And you crave touch. You loath yourself for yielding, but it’s been a long time since you felt the warmth of another flesh.

He is pricking cold, but it’s something palpable.

Nine bells burst through, entangling with the bustle of people. Trost main square stirs with the motions of the Sunday Farmer’s market. Rows of white, flitting awnings stretch from road to road. The stalls at the front are colored I’m hues of yellows, orange, purple and red with season fruits and vegetables, pumpkins, grapes, apples, figs, squash and carrots. Then comes the rows of dairy and meat, piled with cheese and milk and butter and eggs, and others with cured ham trussed with herbs.

A jumble of piquant smells wafts in the air as Levi weaves through the throng near the booths of herbs and spices, and his gaze lights up when he spots Mrs. Warner’s stall.

“Captain Levi, hey.”

“Hey.” He waits for her to pack his weekly order. She knows it already by heart.

Passersby smile and wave at Levi, older men approach and pat his back. They thank him for having fought bravely, for retaking wall Maria and the lands they’d lost to the titans.

Mrs. Warner notices his uneasiness and let’s out a faint chuckle. “We’re all proud of you.”

“Good morning, Granny.” A ten-year-old boy chimes, stopping in front of the old woman’s stand. Wrinkles of years creep at the corners of her eyes.

“Hey, Robbie.”

Robbie? Stunned, you look at them with popped open eyes. My Robbie? Your glassy eyes prick with unshed tears. My little Robbie is not so little anymore. You sniffle. You wish you could run and hug him. He was five the last time I kissed his cheeks.

Levi’s double strokes your upper arm and you loll your head on his shoulder.

“Who are you?” the boy blatantly asks the ravenette.

“Hey, Robbie, show some respect.” Mrs. Warner scoffs. “This is captain Levi from the Scouting Legion.”

Chocolate brown eyes sink into a frown, flickering around as if he’s trying to pull an old memory out of his head.

“The Levi, just Levi, from the Scouting Legion?” He croaks.

You face palm.

Back then Levi wasn’t Captain.

Levi snorts and ruffles the boys chestnut brown curls.

The woman rolls her eyes as she finishes packing both orders. Robbie is there for his monthly supply of cinnamon. His sister used to bake cookies for him when he was little, but she took the recipe with her, and he spends his Sundays trying to hit the bulls-eye.

“I think I’m close. I’ll try with less butter and more sugar this time.” He cranes his head toward the lady.

Nope Robbie, more butter than sugar.

“My sister was a huge fangirl of you.” The brash boy addresses to Levi again, and your face ignites. He fumbles in his jute bag for an apple, rubs it in his shirt and munches on it. He swallows. “She never stopped talking about you. You were her topic of conversation every time she got home. It was sickening.”

He takes another bite, apple juice drips over his arm and, he licks it.

Mrs. Warner bites the inside of her cheek to muffle her laugh.

Can I strangle him? You nudge your companion on the side.

Isn’t he doing what you were supposed to do? You should’ve learned something from him.

I guess you’re right. But it doesn’t make it less embarrassing.

“She wrote you a cheesy letter, too. I found it in the bin.”

“Is that so?” Levi draws his handkerchief and curls two fingers, asking Robbie to stretch out his arm, and rubs away the fruity stains.

“Uh-huh. She named her teddy bear Levi and couldn’t sleep without it.”

Levi snorts, jabbing his kerchief back into his pocket.

Your cheeks are flaring.

You were so pathetic.

Shut up!

A thin black brow arches, amusement slathers Levi’s face.

“Cinnamon for Robbie L/N and black tea leaves for Captain Levi.” The old woman sets the paper bags on the countertop. Robbie shoves his in the bag slung on his shoulder.

“L/N?” Levi’s eyes widen, shaking in realization.

“Yeah.” He mumbles, sucking out the juice from the apple core.

“Y/N L/N was your sister?”

“mmm-hmmm.” He tosses the core into the trash bin. “See you around Levi, just Levi. Bye old Granny.”

“I’m not that old, Robbie.” She pats his head, and he stalks away.

Levi grabs his bag, coins clank as he jams his change in his pocket, thanks Mrs. Warner, and goes after the boy.

You trudge behind.

“Oi, brat.”

The brunette boy stops and swirls around, narrowing his eyes, tilting his head down without breaking eye contact. “The name’s Robbie.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and takes in a sharp breath.

“Robbie.” Levi sighs. “Could you show me the letter?”

"Why?" Robbie ponders. “Only if you promise to give it back.” He blushes. “I don’t have too many things with my sister’s handwriting.”

Levi’s eyes soften. “I’ll read it at your porch.”

*

The front door to your house swings open and Robbie and Levi step in, with you sneaking behind before the door shuts.

“Do your parents let you bring strangers when you’re home alone?”

“You’re not stranger within the walls.” Robbie toes of his shoes off. “They’ll be back soon, they’re visiting an aunt.”

The hearth is stoking, and Robbie rushes to the kitchen, leaving the bag perched on the countertop, two apples rolling out.

He saunters back to the entryway and grabs Levi’s hands and leads him upstairs. The creaking of the steps echo in the house.

Nothing has changed.

It still smells like oak and caramel. The door to your room is closed at the end of the corridor, and you decide to let it go, a wistful simper kisses your lips.

Send me a smoke signal when you’re done. He kisses your temple and vanishes in the air.

It seems as a hurricane struck in Robbie’s room. The covers of his bed are wrapped up at the edge, Levi makes his way through the rumpled clothes and balled up socks scattered on the floor. Pens and crayons and notebooks spilled on his desk.

“Make yourself comfortable.” He says, ignoring Levi’s scrunched up face. The raven haired drags the chair from the desk, dusts it off and takes a seat.

Robbie fetches something from the corkboard.

“Here.” Levi pries the letter from Robbie’s hand.

You flump on Robbie’s bed.

 “I’ll be downstairs, don’t touch anything.” The boy squints and wanes away.

Levi rakes his hair and sighs, hunching forward. He slips the letter from the envelope and unfolds it.

You have a pretty handwriting.

You gaze down as his eyes linger over every word.

Heat creeps from your cheeks to the tip of your ears.

… I love watching you and I make you mine by looking at you from afar. I love the tiny moles in your neck, forming your own Orion’s belt, and the dimple in your cheek when you smile. I wish you could show it more often…

…If they ask me what I see in you, I’d smile and lower my head, and wouldn’t reply, because I wouldn’t want them to fall in love with you too…

Meeting you was the most beautiful coincidence.

…I love you, I love you, I love you. You wove a nest in my heart to make sure I’ll never kick you out.

I’ll burn this letter before it reaches your hands, but if by a little chance it survives the flames, I just want you to know I’ll love you forever.

Y/N.

Tears pamper his face as he holds the letter against his chest. His chin trembles, and he bites his bottom lip to stifle his sobs and whimpers.

You yield to the weeping too, wishing you could curl against him, you could hug him, hold his hand, and douse him in kisses.

He opens the trunk of old memories that pull him back to that day, in the library.

A nothing that wrote a different end to your story. Of only you knew what has masked behind that word.

So many things were jumbled in his head, as he delved through for the right words, but they clogged his throat, and a ‘nothing’ was everything he could pull out.

“I wanted you to stay that morning.” He mewls amid sobs and sniffs. He feels a pang in his chest, a dagger cutting though, tearing out his heart to grind it with shards of broken glass. “When I found you, it was too late.” He breaths.

Your teary eyes soften, filled with an inner glow. Levi. You muse his name once again. Your heart flutters and it feels full, complete.

He went back for you.

“You’re a mystery, Levi.” You said his name laced with sugar. You always did.

He snorted, steel gray eyes tangling with yours. “That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“It’s not a compliment.” You turned around, his gaze hooked on your back as you walk away. You stop before crossing the threshold and looked back over your shoulder. “It’s a threat.”

“How so?”

“You’re a mystery I want to solve. I’ll find out what you hide.”

“You might be disappointed to see what’s inside.”

“We may both be surprised.” You smirked and strutted out.

You lay on the bed, and tugged by an impulse, he curls in too. You’re facing each other, yet he can’t see you, he can’t hear you, and you can’t feel him.

Your lips search for his.

Nothing.

You can’t feel his breath, nor his lips brushing yours, nor the warm of his cheek in your palm.

I’d like to sweep away those tears my love. You whisper. Where will you be? Where will we be from now on? Two dots in the unfathomable universe, so far or so close, two dots that draw asymptotes, that yank closer to each other, but never meet. Separated by an infinitesimal distance.

I love you. Now and always.

You close your eyes, and when you open them again, the golden gates that stretch and skim beyond the clouds unfasten. It’s bright, but not blinding. The heaviness in your chest falters, and you finally feel at peace. All the anguish, anger and frustration had drained away.

Before you take a step forward, you crane back and wave a hand to the messenger, who doffs off its hat. A feeble smile peeks on its lips.

It’s time to go back to the solitary life, hoping that you’ll never forget it.

♾️

It’s pelting and the sturdy drops batter on your shoulders and head. You should’ve listened to your roommate and shoved the umbrella in your tote bag.

The battery of your phone had died out leaving you stranded in a city you hardly know. It’s terrifying how dependent we are on technology. You can’t get a Uber ride to go home, nor plan your trip on Moovit. It’s rush hour, and people are weaving through the throng desperate to get home. Crashing umbrellas, puddles splashing, frantic car horns, the hustle and bustle and the blinding lights. The big city is a hellish nightmare, a thrilling one, and even though you miss your life in your small town, this is where you belong now.

You were accepted in the School of Art and Design.  

You hunch, holding your bag pressed against your chest to protect your iPad from the pouring rain.

As you turn around the corner, you duck into the first establishment with the open sign flashing in green neon, not sure what to expect when you walk into Herby Twist.

There are a handful of tea enthusiasts and others in your situation, sheltering from the deluge. You stand in line admiring the place. It’s bedecked in a modern manly garage style. Corrugated, stained metal on the walls, shiny red shelves and simple concrete floor.

The aromas of matcha and chai mingles with the citrus smells of lime and orange. The place stirs up with the weaves of conversations and the pattering raindrops scraping the roof.

When there’s only one person before you, you glance at the blackboard menu hanging above the counter.

You squint as your eyes flicker over the capitalized chalked letters. In the city, they insist on giving strange names to common things.

“Welcome to Herby Twist. What can I get you?” You jerk at the luscious raspy voice and look down, entwining your gaze with his dull, steel-gray eyes. Suddenly, your pulse begins to rise wildly. Your legs wobble, afraid your knees might buckle. You look like you were lick by a horse, your hair wet and stuck to your shoulders as well as your shirt. And he’s impossibly hot, and no, your not exaggerating. His smooth black hair is slick back, a couple of rebel strands fall over his forehead, flicking with each of his movements.

Lean, broad shoulders, narrow waist; his black t-shirt gives you a hint of what’s under, ridged muscles, ripping collarbones, you can get a glimpse of the tattoo on his left shoulder, shrouded by the sleeve.

“So…” His voice yanks you out from your reverie.

 “I’ll have…uh…” you look up to the menu, unable to decipher the names as your fingers fiddle with your bracelet. Your gaze crashes with his. “I’ll have your favorite.”

“I hope you like plain black tea.” He places your order in the screen. “Will there be anything else?” His gaze flicks to you.

You shake your head.

“What’s your name?”

You swallow the lump and say, “Y/N.”

Without moving his head, his eyes dart to you, and he smirks. He sleeves on the cup, uncaps the sharpie and scrawls your name on the side.

Your credit card beeps in the terminal and your bill is printed out. He tears it off and hands it to you along with the National Bank Card. “You can wait over there for your order.” He nudges his chin to the side. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.” You meekly nod, tucking a lock of clammy hair behind your ear, and slip to the pick-up-your-order-here counter.

Your fingers tap rhythmically as you wait, your eyes tracing and retracing over his back and shoulders as you bite your bottom lip. Your heart is a loud bass in your chest. You can’t decipher what it is, like a force of attraction you can’t fight back, driving you to keep your eyes on him. He turns around and you look away, your cheeks sizzling with a blush. He caps your drink and puts the cup on the concrete countertop. Your fingers stop drumming.

“Y/N.”

You search his gaze and find it.

You like the way your name dribbles from his lips. Sensuous, velvety and scrappy in the hot way. The flicker of a smile ghosts over his lips.

“Thanks.”

You grab the cup and slide onto a booth in the furthest corner. You twist the thick carboard sleeve, snort and shake your head, simpering. His name and number jotted down in his scrawling. You look in his direction, and as he takes the order from the next in line, gray eyes lock with yours, a dimple flashing in his cheek.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Fic Titles: Alphabet S-T

Take one and start to create!

S

Say it like you mean it

Say my name in fear

See me now

Seeking company

Sell me your lie

Selling a dream

Send me a sign

Set our love on fire

Shouting from the rooftops

Silly ideas

Silly little dreams

Sinfully delicious

Sing about our history

Sing me a song

Singing in the shower

Sirens are leading the way

Slow farewell

Solving puzzles

Someday is enough

Sometimes we choose violence

Songs of our love

Sorry for the way I left you

Souls entwined

Sparks flying

Spring awakening

Stars in your eyes

Sun-kissed skin

Sunshine in your eyes

Swimming in the rain

Sweet melancholy

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

T

Take me home

Taken by surprise

Taking the oath

Tell me beautiful lies

Temporary enjoyment

Thank you for nothing

The art of not giving a fuck

The beginning of something great

The comfort of your touch

The depth of our hearts

The difference between you and I

The distance between us

The end is near (and we celebrate)

The end of what we know

The head that wears the crown

The hope that’s left

The importance of names

The impossibility of us

The life we left behind

The loss we can't replace

The love that binds us

The love we feel

The ones you're meant to keep

The power we yield

The road ahead of us

The secrets we keep

The sound of hearts breaking

The things we don't say

The things we lost

The version of me you see

The war is not over yet

The wind will take us away

Theories of happiness

There’s always room for more

Things we did in the dark

This game we play

This side of things

Thunderstorms over our heads

To everyone we loved

To have each other

To hide what we have

To hold dear

To hurt and to heal

To the moon (and back)

To the people we meet

Together, we’re unstoppable

Treasure hunts

Trouble follows us around

Trusting the ones we love

Truth hurts (but so does lying)

Find more titles: A-C|D-F|G-I|J-L|M-O|P-R|U-V|W-X|Y-Z + Numbers

>>All the Fic Titles.

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