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vunblr · 2 months ago

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Built to Last

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Summary: Bucky took up carpentry to keep himself busy, but didn't expect a hardware clerk to make him want more.

Word Count: 3.4k.

notes: This is one of the works I'm submitting for the @avengers-assemble-bingo event for Bucky's 108th birthday, running throughout March. The prompt was "I didn't do a thing". Card number 4B-016

Bucky didn’t know what to say when Dr. Raynor told him to pick up a hobby. It wasn’t a suggestion. She said he needed something to keep his hands busy other than fighting, fidgeting with the weight of his past, or rotting alone in his apartment. He had scoffed at the idea at first. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted to do with his life, and a hobby was part of that uncertainty. But after taking his time to think about it, carpentry had stuck.

Before the war -before everything- he used to help out at a woodworking shop near his parents’ place. Just small stuff. Sanding, assembling furniture, little repairs here and there. It had been a way to make a few extra bucks to help at home, and he barely remembered the details of the work itself. But he remembered the feeling. The weight of the wood beneath his hands, the scent of sawdust in the air. The satisfaction of making something solid, something that stayed put when he was done with it.

So, he signed up for a class. Twice a week, a few hours at a workshop not too far from his apartment. At first, it was just to shut Raynor up. But soon enough, he found himself staying longer, working on projects after class, getting lost in the routine of measuring, cutting, and sanding. He liked the precision it required, the way it quieted his mind. His hands had spent too many years destroying. This, at least, was the opposite of that.

And though he wouldn’t admit it, he liked the errand of buying supplies.

Most of the wood was provided at the workshop, but for everything else -sandpaper, varnish, nails, brushes, hinges- there was a small hardware store along the way. Just a hole-in-the-wall place, the kind of shop that had a little bit of everything and a counter perpetually dusted with stray wood shavings. Bucky told himself he went there because it was convenient and nothing more. Liked its atmosphere.

He had no idea how it happened, but somehow -much to his dismay- Sam ended up signing up for the carpentry classes, claiming it would entertain his head. He had begrudgingly shown him the spot where he got his supplies, but after fifteen minutes of Sam chatting up with her, while Bucky busied himself grabbing what he needed, he was starting to think he regretted it.

She knew who he was -how could she not?- but she treated him like any other customer. When she learned he was taking lessons, she started asking about his projects every time he went there. Once a week, like clockwork. Sometimes, when he came in looking roughed up after a mission, she’d even ask if he was okay. Direct and simple, like it wasn’t strange at all for a man like him to be standing in her shop, debating between varnish finishes with bruised knuckles. Every now and then, she gave him candies.

Now, she leaned her hip against the counter, twirling a pen between her fingers as she smirked at Sam. “I bet you expected some grumpy old guy back here, huh?”

“I mean, yeah,” Sam admitted with a laugh. “No offense, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone sell power tools and nails in a dotted sundress before. It’s a little disorienting.”

Her grin widened. “Keeps people on their toes.”

Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose and grabbed a box of nails off the shelf with a little too much force, shoving it into his basket. He told himself it wasn’t irritation that he was feeling. Definitely not.

Sam caught the movement immediately, and jerked a thumb toward him, “Oh, don’t mind him. He’s just mad he’s not getting attention.”

Bucky didn’t look up, but squeezed his hand around the next box of nails he picked up. He didn’t need more nails, but standing there empty-handed wasn’t an option while Sam worked his usual charm on her.

She then flicked her gaze over him, with a little amusement, before she pushed off the counter and strolled toward him. “Need help finding anything, James?”

James.

His fingers tensed around the box again.

She was one of the few people who ever called him that. It always did something weird to his chest, like the name fit better in her voice than his own head.

He swallowed. “No. I’m good.”

Her lips quirked, fixing her eyes to the box in his hand. “You sure? ‘Cause I think you just grabbed two different sizes of nails. And I’m pretty sure the second one’s too big for that book holder you told me you’re making.”

Bucky scowled, glancing down. Damn it. She was right.

“You can never have enough nails,” he muttered, shifting the box in his grip. “Besides, I’m thinking about another project, so…” He trailed off, trying to sound casual.

Her eyes widened with interest. “Oh? What are you making next?”

“Yeah, James,” Sam chimed in, voice dripping with amusement. “What’s your next masterpiece?”

Bucky clenched his jaw. He could practically hear the smirk in Sam’s voice because they both knew he was full of shit. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“A coffee table.”

Her face lit up. “That’s bigger than your usual work,” she said, beaming. “I can’t wait to see a picture when it’s done.”

Bucky swallowed, resisting the urge to fidget. Great. Now he had to make a damn coffee table for real.

“He doesn’t have one, you see,” Sam said as if Bucky wasn’t standing right there. “His place is pretty spartan.”

“Oh, really?” she mused, tilting her head with interest.

“I think he needs some help with the whole ‘making a house feel like a home’ thing,” he continued, grinning. “Everybody knows 40s men weren’t exactly in charge of those things or managing a household.” He sighed. “And since he’s alone-”

Bucky felt utterly betrayed. It was partially right. He was alone, and after so many years of being in survival mode, his apartment still didn’t feel like a home, just another place to exist. But he didn’t have the right to call him off about that in front of her.

His features shifted into a neutral mask, and his shoulders went rigid. Without a word, he set the basket on top of a nearby box and turned toward the door. “I’ll come back later.”

“Wait.” Her voice was gentle but firm, and before he could leave, she reached out and briefly touched his elbow.

The warmth of her hand was barely registered before he tensed, fighting the instinct to pull away. His feet stayed planted, but his gaze dropped to the ground as he gave her a small, awkward nod.

“I have something for you,” she said, already moving toward the back room.

Bucky’s shoulders twitched, and the urge to bolt mounted fast. Sam, sensing he had overstepped, exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, man,” he murmured, voice quieter now. “I just was-“

Bucky waved a hand dismissively, though his jaw remained tight. He didn’t have the energy to say it’s fine, because it wasn’t, not really. But she was already gone, and for some reason, that alone was the only thing keeping him rooted in place.

A minute later, she returned with a well-loved book in her hands. “Here.” She held it out, and when he hesitated, she smiled. “Last time we talked, you mentioned wanting to catch up on books you missed. This was one of them, right? Red Mars?”

Bucky’s brows lifted, caught off guard. He looked at the book, then at her, with surprise flickering across his face. She remembered.

He reached out slowly, brushing his fingers on the worn cover before taking it. “Thanks…”

“I’m only lending it to you,” she teased, “And, you have to tell me what you think about it when you return it to me, like a real-life Goodreads review.”

Sam snorted. “I don’t think he-”

“He knows what it is,” she cut in smoothly, lifting a brow. With an easy shift of her stance, she subtly positioned herself between them, like a shield. “I taught him.”

Sam held up his hands in surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright.”

Bucky looked down at the book again, running his thumb along the edge of the pages, and then at her, standing between him and Sam, cutting through the teasing, speaking in his favor. Of course, he didn’t need it, but… it felt nice.

And before he could stop himself, he flicked a smug little smile in Sam’s direction. Just a quick, fleeting thing -boyish, almost careless- but enough to make Sam blink in disbelief.

“Did you just-” Sam pointed at him, then looked at her, eyes wide. But she had her back turned toward Bucky, and was completely unaware of the display

“Stop messing with me, Sam,” Bucky pleaded, tone all wounded pride. But still smirking.

Sam scoffed. “It wasn’t that serious, and you’re clearly not that affected.”

She turned briefly, and just like that, Bucky wiped the smirk clean off his face, replacing it with a look so convincingly forlorn, like a dog that had just been kicked, that Sam nearly choked on his own indignation.

That bastard. Using his Winter Soldier undercover acting skills.

And then -before Sam could get a word in- she sighed and shook her head. “It’s not funny, you know,” she said as she looked at Sam. “He’s your friend, and he’s been through a lot. You don’t even know me, and you’ve been messing with him this whole time trying to mix me into it. I thought the Avengers were better than that.”

Sam’s mouth opened, then closed. He had faced down alien invasions, rogue governments, and Bucky at his most feral, but this? This had him momentarily speechless.

And Bucky? Bucky beamed.

Because after six months of clipped conversations and hesitant efforts to talk to her in his still-awkward way, she had shut birdbrain down for him, without hesitation. And just minutes ago, the two of them had been so damn chatty.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said, keeping up the little orphan act, shoulders curling in just enough. “He can’t be dealing with my shit all the time.”

“It’s not okay, James,” she countered. “You should speak up for yourself. Don’t just take this kind of treatment.”

Sam found his voice again, throwing up his hands. “Oh, he speaks just fine for himself, let me tell you-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” She cut him off with a sharp look. “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to sort from the last delivery. Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll ring you up.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Sam standing there, baffled.

Bucky, still holding the book, let the smugness seep into his expression again, and Sam shot him a glare. “I hate you.”

----

A week later, Bucky walked into the hardware store, a little worse for wear. He moved stiffly, with fresh a bruise shadowing his jaw, a scrap on his nose, and roughed-up knuckles, the kind of raw that came from a fight, not precisely carpentry.

She glanced up from the counter, and her smile faltered. “Jesus, James. You look like you got in a fight with a truck.”

“Something like that,” he muttered.

She folded her arms. “You okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” It came out too quick, too practiced, but before she could call him on it, he pulled something from inside his jacket and set it on the counter, her copy of Red Mars.

“I read this during some downtime,” he said like he hadn’t just brushed past her concern.

Her expression softened. “Yeah? What’d you think?”

He hesitated, rubbing a thumb along the book’s spine. “Dense as hell, but… good. I liked the way it built up all the politics and survival stuff. And the tech felt real.” He tapped lightly against the cover before adding, “Kept my mind busy.”

Something warm flickered in her gaze, and she leaned on the counter, propping her chin her hand, and grinned. “Told you it was good. You want the follow-up novel?”

He nodded. “Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I’ll bring it the day after tomorrow for you since you have class.” She tapped the book with her fingers before sliding it off the counter, and for a moment, he just stood there, watching her. There was something about the way she did things for him like she actually gave a damn, like lending him the book. It seemed just a casual thing but also showed that she’d thought about him.

And he liked that. More than he should.

His hand curled at his side, and his fingers twitched like they wanted to do something. Instead, he glanced around, searching for anything to distract himself with.

That’s when he saw it.

One of the shelves against the back wall sagged at an ugly angle, one side barely clinging to the wall bracket. He frowned. “Your shelf is falling.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah. It’s been like that for a month. My boss keeps saying he’ll fix it, but…” She gestured vaguely to the still-broken shelf.

Bucky wet his lips. “I can fix it.”

She blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Oh, you don’t have to-”

“I can fix it.” He looked at her then, raising his brows just slightly.

Her lips twitched. “I don’t want to take advantage of your generosity, James.”

“You’re not.” He tipped his head toward the backroom door. “Let me see it.”

With a shake of her head, she sighed. “Alright. Knock yourself out.” She lifted the counter flap to let him pass through, and as he ducked beneath it, she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, “Such a gentleman.” And he repressed a smile.

As he started to work, she stepped toward the counter. “Want a coffee while you’re at it? Nothing fancy, I bring it in my thermos from home.”

Bucky glanced up from where he was bracing the shelf, rolling his shoulder to ease a dull ache. “Yeah. Sure.”

She poured some into a plain ceramic cup, and just as she set it on the counter, the bell above the door jingled. Two men walked in, murmuring between themselves as they started browsing. She didn’t think much of it at first, but as she rang up their items, she caught the way their eyes kept flicking to Bucky, more precisely, to his left hand, exposed where he was securing a bracket.

Their whispers weren’t subtle. She didn’t catch all the back and forth but picked up some words.

“…murderer.”

“Why the government…”

“surely a sociopath-”

Her grip on the counter tightened. Assholes.

She flicked her eyes toward Bucky. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even acknowledge them, but she knew he heard every word given his enhanced hearing. His movements slowed just slightly, his shoulders squared a little tighter.

Something hot burned in her chest.

“Get out.”

The two men stilled. “Excuse me?”

She folded her arms, fixing them with a flat stare. “You heard me. The house reserves the right of admission, and I decide you’re not welcome here.”

One of them scoffed. “For what? I didn’t do a thing.”

“You disrespected a veteran, and an Avenger, no less. Someone who puts his life at risk so you don’t have to.”

Bucky’s hammer stilled mid-swing.

The men bristled, looking at her like she’d lost her mind. “Oh, come on, lady. You know what he is-”

“I know exactly who he is,” she snapped, stepping forward. “And I know you’re the kind of cowards who whisper about a man behind his back instead of saying it to his face.” She jerked her chin toward the door. “So, like I said, get out.”

The men looked between her and Bucky as if waiting for him to react. He didn’t. Just worked his jaw, and locked his gaze on the shelf like it was the only thing in the room.

The tension stretched, but she didn’t back down, didn’t look away.

Eventually, with a few muttered curses, the men turned around and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind them.

She exhaled sharply, with anger, then turned back to Bucky. He was still gripping the hammer, with his fingers curling around it like a lifeline. He wasn’t looking at her.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he finally said, quietly.

She shrugged, reaching for her coffee like her heart wasn’t still pounding. “Sure, I did.”

He then glanced at her, with an unreadable expression. Like he didn’t know what to do with the fact that she had chosen to stand up for him and lost customers because of it.

“You want some sugar with your coffee?” she asked casually, like nothing had happened.

Bucky blinked, thrown by the sudden shift. He almost wanted to smile.

“No, thank you,” he murmured, turning back to the shelf for the final touches. It didn’t need much fixing, just a few adjustments, and a new bracket, barely fifteen minutes of work. And now it was done. His excuse to be here was gone.

He swallowed down his disappointment and took a sip of the coffee instead.

She leaned against the counter, watching him, wrapping her fingers around her own mug. “That was a quick job. Guess I’ll have to break something else next time.”

Bucky’s grip on the cup tightened just slightly. Something else? Wait. Did she-

He tilted his head, gazing at her with mild surprise. “That so?”

She blinked, as she’d just realized she’d said it out loud. A beat of silence. Then, instead of backtracking, she simply lifted a shoulder in an easy shrug, “Maybe.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he took another sip of coffee, trying -failing- to ignore the way something warm curled in his chest.

Fuck it.

Stomping down the old instinct to talk himself out of it, to recall every failed date, every misstep, every why would she be interested thought, he decided to man up.

“Are you busy on Saturday?” He kept his voice even, aiming for casual, like it didn’t matter either way. Like her answer wasn’t about to determine whether he will spend the next week brooding.

She tilted her head, considering. “Well, that… depends.” Serious. A little guarded.

His stomach dipped. Shit. Did he misread-She was friendly, sure, but she was friendly with everyone. Just because she indulged him with a little extra care when he showed up didn’t mean she meant anything by it. Maybe she just felt bad for him. Maybe she was the kind of person who went out of her way to make people feel seen, and he was just another project, another lost cause that-

“If you’re asking me out,” she said, with a slow smile tugging at her lips, “then yes, I’m free. But-” she continued, “if you were about to suggest coming here after hours to see what else needs fixing… then no.”

Bucky exhaled, shaking his head. “Damn. And I wanted to impress you with my handyman skills.” He let himself flirt, just a little.

She hummed and then reached for his hand gently, as her thumb traced over his bruised knuckles. The warmth of her fingers, the softness of the motion, sent a tingle down his spine, straight to his chest, where it bloomed into something dangerously warm.

“You don’t need to impress me, Jamie.”

Jamie.

Oh, fuck.

“Just pick a time and place.”

He swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.” And after a beat, “What do you think abou-”

The door swung open, and the bell jingled as a small crew of workmen entered. Bucky shut up immediately, scratching the back of his head as she turned to greet them.

“Good afternoon, guys. I’ll be with you in a sec.” Without missing a beat, she grabbed a scrap of paper, scribbled something down, and pressed it into his palm before turning to the customers.

Her number.

“Surprise me,” she murmured over her shoulder before slipping into work mode, shifting gears like she hadn’t just tilted his world off its damn axis.

Bucky stared down at the paper. Then at her.

Then, with a barely contained smirk, he tucked the paper into his pocket and walked out of the shop, already deciding on the perfect first date.

Dividers by:@/cafekitsune

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #the winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x female reader #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #4bbingo

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starsofang · 11 months ago

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Change of Heart

hitman!simon x f!reader / FINAL

previous part

tw: NSFW, MDNI, mentions of suicide, heavy angst, please be cautious as always! <3

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

The weight on your shoulders was heavy and exhausting. It caused your body and soul to ache with a crushing feeling of grief. Your conversation with Price played in your mind tenfold, repeating over and over until it drove you to the point of insanity. You feared if you stayed stuck in the loop for a moment longer, your brain might short circuit and you’d succumb to life’s torturous game.

How had things come to this?

Two weeks ago, you should’ve been dead. Two weeks ago, you should’ve denied Ghost’s abrupt deal, you should’ve told him the truth – that you had no intentions of living past that very Friday the two of you planned meticulously to end your life.

Two weeks ago, you should’ve never met Simon.

What was meant to be a task given to you with the purpose of self healing had erupted into an even scarier nightmare. Life would’ve never been so complicated had you denied Simon and stuck to your original plan on desired death. It would’ve never been so complicated had you just done it all yourself instead of pussying out and asking him to finish the job for you.

Now, all that remained was a heart beyond repair, fragments of its shattered pieces being taken away with Simon when he had left.

He had the entirety of your heart, and you didn’t think you’d ever get it back. You couldn’t take it back if you wanted to. It belonged to him, and your heart was loyal to its owner.

All that was left was the, what now? Price had made it clear he couldn’t promise anything. Hell, you wouldn’t blame him if he had just said that in a half-assed attempt of comfort. For all you knew, Simon hadn’t a clue what was going on in the first place, or perhaps he didn’t care. Living without closure of what could’ve been had left you scarred and untrusting, even of the very man you’d fallen in love with.

Love was what always got you into this mess, after all. You couldn’t love yourself, so God was executing punishment by making you unlovable to everyone else. If anything, you should be thanking him for steering you away from more heartache.

Maybe this was how it was meant to be. Simon giving you a taste of what life could be if you had just tried harder, before pulling the candy right out of your mouth before you could protest that you weren’t quite finished with it.

You didn’t reach out to Simon. Even though you were blocked from the moment the two of you had sex and he ran, you didn’t dare try and test out your theory to see if he had undone his action. You weren’t even sure you knew what you could say to him.

While it was clear Price played a dirty hand in creating the drift between the two of you, Simon still allowed himself to be a puppet on Price’s string. It boiled you to the core, filled you with resentful distaste that you couldn’t quite swallow.

It was hard to accept that you hated him almost as much as you loved him.

No matter how angry you were at the world for the hand it was dealing you, you still couldn’t bring yourself to leave it. Not on your own. Even through the hole of emptiness that rattled you to the bone, a spark of hope shone from deep within you, and that was what kept you going. It was the faintest of light, fighting to stay ablaze. No matter how puny and weak it was, it was still there, cheering you on in a gentle voice to keep going.

As much as you didn’t want to listen, you did.

Life’s a bitch and then you die. But maybe if you gave it one final chance at redemption, things may work out in your favor this time. And if they didn’t? The original plan was always in the cards.

Simon left Price in the dust the moment he uttered those words. Go and get your bird back, Simon.

He had never heard something so beautiful, so breathtaking. It was his call back home, and he’d be an absolute tool if he didn’t rush to return to its welcoming arms.

He didn’t care how ridiculous he looked running along the streets in the middle of the night. Hell, he didn’t even bother to put his mask on. Tonight, he was Simon, and he was wearing his identity with pride. Ghost was tucked away in the darkest depths of his mind, caged in and hidden. With you, he didn’t want to be Ghost. He didn’t want to be a man who thrived off of the stolen lives of the innocent in order to pay his bills. He didn’t want to be the broken version of himself that imprisoned his own vulnerability.

He wanted to be the man who could give you a colorful life filled with painted sunsets and warm rays. Only Simon could do that, and he’d throw Ghost away if that was what it took.

The closer Simon got to your apartment, the more the nerves wracked his body with a faint tremor. Would you even speak to him? Forgive him? He knew he didn’t deserve it. Hell, he deserved a cold fist to the jaw and a stab wound to the heart.

The least he could do was try.

He pondered if he should get you something. Flowers, maybe, but when it came down to it, flowers were a pathetic excuse for an apology. No, Simon wanted to do this right. He had spent his entire life partaking in wrongdoings. For once, just once, he wanted to be good.

The sight of your building nearly had him throwing up on the concrete beneath his boots. It turned his stomach in a sickeningly sweet way, coating his tongue with bitter cottonmouth. For the first time since he could remember, Simon was scared. Downright terrified.

While the feeling should be seen in a negative light, he saw it as the complete opposite. It meant he was alive. He was still human. He still harbored emotions that Ghost had so desperately tried to get rid of.

Even after everything, he was still Simon.

His feet grew heavier and heavier with every step he took into your building, up the raggedy stairs, and down the dim hall, just like the routine he had always fallen into when waiting for you to return from work. Things may be different now, and he may be venturing on the same path with a different ending this time, but that didn’t mean he was led astray. Different could mean better, and he could only pray to the very God putting him through hell that his outcome would be brighter than before.

Simon didn’t know how long he stood outside of your door. He willed himself to knock, but he was struggling internally. The truth was, he was scared to see you. Seeing you meant facing the result of his regretful actions, and he wasn’t sure he could handle recognizing you as broken because of him.

He dug this grave, he wallowed in it, and now it was time to crawl his way out and make things right.

His fist shook as he raised it to knock on the door. Knuckles collided with the old wood, echoing sharply in his ears. Anxiety crept into his bones, leaving him in an uncomfortable suffocation. He felt as if he wouldn’t be able to breathe until you were in front of him. The room felt small, it was closing in on him. He wondered if this was a bad idea. Maybe he should’ve just left you alone, maybe he should’ve kept you out of his mess–

“Simon?”

The air that was tightening in his lungs exhaled in a slow, trembling breath, shoulders going slack from their tightly wound stiffness. Your voice was his oxygen, and he could finally breathe again.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, and God, did it feel jubilating to say that name again.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, and the bitterness in your tone was clear. It sunk into him like a thousand knives, coursing him with relentless pain.

“I need to fix this,” he gasped out. “Please, sweetheart, let me fix this. I know I fucked up, alright? I fucked up bad.”

You stared at him in disdain, but Simon could see the glimmer of a burning ache in your eyes that matched his own. You missed him just as much as he missed you, but your hurt overruled everything else. He didn’t blame you one bit.

“You left me after you had sex with me, Simon,” you spat with dripping fire that scorched him with every word. “You left me after everything. You expect me to just let you come here and tell me you fucked up, as if I didn’t know that?”

Simon could feel his resolve slipping away. He wanted to panic, to spit out useless apologies until one of them worked and you caved, but that wasn’t how this was going to go. Simon would have to work for it, and he’d be damned if he let you slip away. He’d spend the rest of his life working for it if it meant having you in the end.

“Sweetheart–”

“Fucking– I’m not doing this in my doorway. Just… just come inside,” you sighed out, utterly defeated. You didn’t have to tell Simon twice. He stepped into your apartment cautiously, letting you know that you were in complete control. You were in charge, and Simon was here to take the beatdown, no matter how painful it may be.

Upon entering, your apartment was in havoc. It wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t disgusting or revolting, but it was clear you spent most of your days cooped up in your room. Simon felt guilt eat away at him from the mere sight alone.

“Tell me how I can fix this,” Simon pleaded. Everything about his body language was desperate, distressed. His hands spoke for him, moving animatedly, unable to control himself. He was begging. For the first time in his life, he was begging.

“I’m not telling you how to fix anything, Simon. You’re the one supposed to fix it on your own. I’m not going to do it for you,” you explained in eerie calmness, but it was unmistakingly exhaustion. He couldn’t imagine how much he had put you through.

He knew you were right. This was Simon’s responsibility, and begging you for the cure would be easy on him and harder for you. He couldn’t allow that to happen. You’d already been burdened enough.

Simon stared at you, eyes glossed over, eyebrows pulled together from his stir of emotions. The way you stared back was empty, and it broke his heart that he was the reason for the light going out so soon after gaining it back.

He contemplated what to do. There were many ways this could go sideways, and he couldn’t risk that. He had to pick what was right in his heart, even if it meant shoving away the pride he’d grown accustomed to over the years of being alone and hollow.

Simon slowly got down on his knees, hands clasped in his lap, and he gazed up at you in woe. He was baring himself to you completely, stripping himself of all defenses, and succumbing to vulnerability. Never had Simon gotten on his knees for another person. His ego was too large, and he refused to let himself express weakness.

For you, he’d hang himself dry.

“What are you–”

“Please, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice soft yet broken, brimming with anguish. “I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. Nothin’ I say will make it better. I can’t change it, no matter how much I wish I could. I fucked up, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness for leavin’ you the way I did, for hurtin’ you like everybody else has done. I gave you an empty promise, and even then, I broke it.”

You were speechless from where you stood, peering down at this burly man on his knees for you. Your eyes never strayed away from his, and you recognized the familiar spark of despair in them. They looked just like yours every time you looked in the reflection. He was a mirror of you, just as you were a mirror of him.

“I was scared of losin’ you because of my job. I didn’t think a sweet thing like you deserved to be involved with a man like me. I didn’t want you hurt,” he explained, and the faintest crack in his voice showed you just how hard this was for him as well. You weren’t the only one suffering the consequences.

“Yet you hurt me anyway,” you whispered brokenly, and Simon deflated.

“I know,” he breathed, shaking his head. “I know, sweetheart. I let my fear control me, and it caused me to make things worse. It wasn’t fair t’you. I fucked up, and I’m so sorry.”

Your own resolve was faltering. You wanted so badly to be angry, to kick him out and be done with him. Strip him from your life and return to your days of wallowing in loneliness and misery.

You couldn’t. Every word was like a small bandaid over a too-big wound, but it was an attempt. He was trying. Nobody had ever tried with you before.

“Y’know,” you began, voice as soft as a whisper. “One of your boys came by to see me. Price.”

Simon blinked, surprise morphing on to his face. He swallowed anxiously, fists squeezing in his lap before he forced them to relax.

“And?”

You stared at him for a moment, shifting through your words in your mind.

“He tried to get me to cut you off. Tell you that I was better off, that I didn’t want you around anymore. He thought it would be best,” you finished quietly, shifting your eyes away from him in a moment of guilt. You weren’t sure why you were feeling it, but you’d recognize that uncomfortable lump in your throat anywhere. “I told him no.”

Simon’s eyebrows raised, eyes darting over your face to read your expression. “You did?”

“Yeah,” you confessed, shifting uncomfortably. “Told him… told him you didn’t deserve that.”

His heart ached painfully in his chest. What a lovely woman you were, defending him even after he had wronged you. How stupid he was for letting his own past misfortunes creep into the present.

He should be mad at Price for invading in on his personal business, but if he didn’t, Simon might not be here right now, kneeling before you and pleading for forgiveness. Price gave him an in, he gave him a chance, even if he went behind his back to do so.

Go and get your bird back, Simon.

It made sense now. Simon nearly laughed in bitter humor.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured gently, finally gaining your gaze back. Your eyes had softened from their hardened walls you built back up again, and he prayed he had a chance. “I know it’s not goin’ to fix anythin’. You’re still angry with me, and you have every right t’be. But if you still decide to throw me out, to never speak t’me again, then I want you t’know that I love you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, chest pulling tight. A mixture of pain and relief coursed through your veins, and you weren’t sure which emotion to listen to. You weren’t sure what was right, but there was one thing you were sure of, and it was that you loved him, too. Heartbreakingly so.

“You do?” you whispered in uncertainty.

Simon rose from his kneeled position, taking a cautious step towards you. When you didn’t back away, he seized the opportunity to cradle your hands in his, holding them to his heart. “I do,” he repeated softly. “I’m not good at this, sweetheart. I’ve done a lot of terrible things. I’ve hurt people, I’ve killed people, yet loving somebody has always been the hardest thing to do. With you, it feels easy.”

You stared up at him, searching for any signs of dishonesty. What stared back at you was pure truth, his eyes flooding with a new light that promised love and confidence.

Taking a deep breath and a leap of faith, you responded, “I love you, too. Even though I should hate you.”

For the first time since seeing him, Simon smiled. It was a boyish smile, one you’d never seen before, and it lit your entire world up. The sun was back out, the flowers were blooming, birds were chirping, and nature was at peace. It tugged on your heartstrings and pulled away all of the hurt that had resided inside.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. It brought you back to the first time the two of you shared a kiss, and the memory was fond. Despite all of the troubles and heartache, Simon was true to his word. Even if the world had failed the two of you, now was the time to change life’s course and rewrite your own future.

“Yes,” you sighed breathlessly.

Simon’s kiss was as familiar as before, but this time, it felt much more intimate. It was burning passion simmered down to tenderness, his hands cradling your face with the utmost care, treating you like frail china. He didn’t push or prod and instead moved with you rather than take control, letting you handle the reins this time.

It was a slow dance rather than a waltz, steady and unceasing.

“We’ll figure this out together, yeah?” he breathed against your lips, and you could feel the curl of his smile. You opened your eyes to peer into his own, unable to contain your own smile.

His lips returned to yours, and you melted into him. All that weight had been lifted so easily. All the rage had dissipated into nothing, being replaced with a warm, glowing light that filled your chest and threatened to burst.

This was all you wanted – to be content. To be happy.

You didn’t want to spend your days, awaiting an early death that would never come, nor did you want to waste it being burdened by the past that haunted you like a demonic spirit. This felt right.

When more and more feeling poured into the kiss, it shifted into something more starved, like two lovers who’d been separated for years. While you were falling into it, Simon was reluctant. Pulling away from you, you had a brief moment of uncertainty before he spoke.

“I don’t want to rush you like I did last time,” he explained gently. “The last thing I want is for you t’feel pressured. I’m not here for only that. M’here to fix this.”

“Simon,” you murmured, a warm smile on your face. “I know you aren’t. I want to do it. Is that okay?”

Simon stared at you for a moment, weighing out his options. While having sex was part of the reason the two of you ended up in this mess, it was the part after that really played a role. This time, things would be different.

“‘Course that’s okay, sweetheart,” he assured, returning your smile.

He was careful in guiding you to your room. While anxiety weighed heavy on his mind in messing things up further, he was determined to ensure that wouldn’t happen. The power was in his hands, and he’d use all of it in order to make you feel the love you deserve to feel.

Peeling off your clothes was a slow task. He took his time, reveling in the warmth of your skin, guiding his hands across every inch of flesh. He was worshiping you, showering you in praise and care. Sweet and reverent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured affectionately, lips pressing to your cheek, then jaw, then down your neck. You were laid out for him on the bed, looking like a goddess bathed in light. “Don’t know what I did t’deserve you.”

“Simon,” you whispered, feeling tears spring in your eyes. Noticing, he lifted himself up, brushing the pad of his thumb softly over your cheek, swiping away the stray tear. He smiled down at you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

He didn’t leave you waiting, but he certainly didn’t rush either. He worked diligently in stretching you open on his fingers, curling into that familiar spot that had your breath catching and your back arching beautifully. Your moans were spoken sonnets that blessed his ears, and he wanted nothing more than to hear them for the rest of his life.

Simon didn’t stop his notions, working you open until you were a squirming, crying mess, kissing away your tears while drowning in bashfulness at the sight of your pleasure. You deserved to feel good, and he’d die making sure of it.

When he lined himself up with you and slowly pressed his cock inside until he was at the hilt, buried in your moist warmth, he let out a blissful sigh, knocking his forehead against yours. He didn’t tear his eyes off of you, watching every flicker of euphoria that flashed in your eyes when he moved his hips. Unlike last time, his pace was slow yet firm, allowing you to bask in the delicious feeling of his cock pressing against the gummy walls of your cervix with every thrust.

“I love you,” he breathed through a sigh, brushing away a strand of hair that stuck in a sweaty mess to your forehead. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. M’so lucky.”

You whimpered as he showered you in praise, wiggling from under him. The pleasure mixed with brimming love had you close to orgasm, clenching around him in a vice. He panted with you, breath fanning your face, only getting cut off when he’d lean down to kiss you.

It was a wonderful display of intimacy. This wasn’t just sex. He wasn’t ruining you, he wasn’t leaving you broken. He was leaving you overflowing with promises that he had every intention of keeping.

Simon swallowed up your moans with lips pressed to yours, fucking you through your orgasm, whispering sweet encouragements. He filled you, sealing those promises, his spend mixing with yours and bringing the two of you together as one.

Breathless and spent, Simon tangled you in his arms and legs, holding you close to his chest so he could feel your warmth against him. It brought him comfort and security, like a blanket being lovingly placed over him and consuming him in a snug embrace.

It was silent for a long time after, but neither of you minded it. You relished in the feeling of one another, and words weren’t needed.

“You’re not going to leave after I fall asleep, are you?” you whispered, breaking the silence with a brief moment of weakness. Simon shifted his head to look down at you, lifting a hand to cradle your head and card his fingers in your hair.

“No, sweetheart. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he assured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. You nodded against him, snuggling closer to him, cheek pressed against his chest.

“You weren’t here to see me make it to two weeks,” you said softly. Though the reminder hurt to hear, you held no resentment in your tone, which gave him a sense of relief.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized with a frown. When you peeked your head up to look at him, his eyes softened. It was like looking at the most beautiful thing crafted on this planet, and he had the absolute honor of calling it his.

“Maybe we can have a do-over,” you suggested, smiling cheekily at him. It enticed a laugh on his end, rumbling from his chest.

“How about instead of puttin’ a deadline on it this time, we keep count of the days that you wake up and accomplish seeing all the tomorrows. Deal?”

Your smile widened, and you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “It’s a deal.”

IT'S OFFICIALLY OVER!!!! I am so sad because I had such an amazing time writing this fic and it will truly always be one of my favorites. so many of you enjoyed it and supported me through it, and I cannot thank you enough for all the love you've given me :,) I sincerely hope this ending is what everybody wanted and more. I love you all <3

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod mw3 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #hitman!simon #hitman au #ghost #ghost x reader

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creepyclothdoll · 5 months ago

Text

Condemned

Paul loved escape rooms.

He just loved them. The lovingly-crafted set designs and props, the electric buzz that came from finding hidden items and putting together puzzle pieces, the euphoria of cracking a code, the adrenaline of the ticking clock, and most importantly, the thrill of the escape.

His friends had long ago stopped accompanying him every week, sometimes more than once a week, to escape rooms in his area. Especially once he started driving hours out of town just to try new escape game centers for a fresh hit of that delicious escape puzzle challenge.

Paul now preferred to go alone anyway. People just bogged him down. He didn’t come to make friends, he came to win.

Months of hot anticipation finally bore fruit when the “Great American Escape” opened its doors to him, at long last. Great American, according to the billboards and posters strewn around town, was the primary attraction of an entertainment mega-complex which took the place of a long-disused waterpark hotel. It would be huge, he knew. Not just physically. His great fear was that it would blow up on social media– maybe even on his feed– and then the solutions would be spoiled for him. So he had to be first.

Great American Escape was so new the day he strode in there that there were still “CONDEMNED” notices stuffed into the recycling bins and old lists of health & safety violations stuck in the vents.

“One ticket for Mystery Escape,” Paul, slapped his money on the counter and smiled at the teen boy working behind it. He was a short, lithe, wide-eyed man in his thirties with dark greasy hair and one navy blue university sweater he’d kept in moderate repair for a decade and a half.

“No group?” The boy asked. When Paul confirmed this, the boy said, “You’ll have to wait until a group comes in. You need three people at least.”

“When is the next group coming?” Paul asked.

“We don’t have any groups booked today,” the boy replied.

“... So, you’re not gonna let me in?”

“... Um… yeah. I can’t. Sorry.”

Paul put down another handful of bills. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

“I’ll buy three tickets,” he said. He made sure to draw the boy’s attention to the extra $20, a little tip for a helpful front deskman.

The boy, who was thin and bored-looking with a patchy teen mustache and his elbow resting on top of a stack of I Escaped stickers, glanced at the security camera which flickered in the corner, its blinking red eye frosted over with a decade of dust. The boy took the $20 and shrugged.

“You won’t be able to escape,” the boy said. “It’s impossible by yourself. But if you want to try… I guess you can try.”

The boy led Paul towards a set of slightly rusty elevator doors, past posters and cardboard cut-outs of characters from “Rattlesnake Gulch Treasure Hunt,” “Escape From Venus,” and “King’s Dungeon Jailbreak.” Paul planned to return to these, but he’d start by going straight for the crown jewel– Mystery Escape, which had been advertised exclusively with nothing but an open doorframe leading to darkness.

The boy went over basic safety guidelines. The door wouldn’t really be locked, red things were real alarms, things that said “staff only” were really for staff only, etc., blah blah blah, boring stuff. Paul listened impatiently, but carefully, only because knowing what was “real” (and therefore inconsequential) would give him a leg up in the game.

“The game starts when the elevator door opens,” the boy finally said. “Floor 3. Good luck.”

The elevator bell dinged, and the doors slid open. The light flickered. Paul stepped inside.

He waved to the boy as the doors shut. He pressed 3.

The light above flickered. Paul could almost see his reflection in the red-rusted metal doors.

The elevator began its ascent, and right away, Paul could tell something was strange. There was a creaking noise, like a train braking. The light flickered. The light sputtered out.

The elevator stopped.

Paul was trapped. It was pitch black inside the tiny car, which made no sound or movement.

The first thing Paul did in any escape room was to check around for hidden props. Keys, ciphers, and puzzle pieces were often hidden around a room for players to find, which would then give them a clue as to what to do next. Paul checked around the elevator car for hidden tools. He pulled up the mildewy carpet by its frayed edge– nothing under there but more mildew. But wait! On the bottom of the carpet there were numbers and letters: EL1. What could that possibly mean?

The next thing Paul did in an escape room was to interact with anything interactable he could see. In front of him was a series of numbers, 1-5, a “door open” and “door close” button, and “emergency.” But “emergency” was red, and red things were inconsequential.

Paul pushed all the buttons but the last. To his surprise, the door began to open slightly– then jammed.

Paul mused about the possible meanings of “EL1.” E was the fifth letter, and there were five numbers… But L?

Maybe it was a cipher. Paul thought on this.

He started trying combinations of buttons. The cipher thing was the key somehow, he knew it. A cipher worked with a code. Where was the code? Maybe it had to do with the symbols, not the numbers…

Suddenly, it all made sense to him. He pressed a set of numbers and then hit the door open button.

To his delight and satisfaction, the elevator doors creaked open. And with them came light.

Paul could see well enough now to see that he faced a concrete wall, which took up the whole lower half of the exit. But above that half, Paul could see a hallway of a hotel, so tantalizingly close.

Paul had beaten escape rooms that had physical components to them before, so this was cake. He gripped the edge of the concrete ledge in front of him and pulled himself up. He let out a grunt as his head and arms made it over the threshold. He just had to find something to grip so he could drag the rest of himself through the gap, and then it was on to the next puzzle.

The elevator lurched.

There was a sound. A scrape, a crash, a wet squelch, a snap. It all happened at once, and it was the loudest sound he ever heard.

When Paul finally sat up, he was somewhere completely different. It was dark here. Darker than the elevator car. The darkness of this place was crushing, like the depths of the deep ocean. There was a smell of meat all around. Paul quickly dismissed the idea of trying to adjust his eyes– he’d navigate by feel.

Paul reached out into the darkness and felt nothing. He stood. His hands pushed him up from a strangely soft, lumpy floor. He noticed something strange about the sound of his movements, and let out an inquisitive “Hey!” to check the echo. It did not bounce. He was… outside?

No– he must be in the disused waterpark proper. The building was huge. Paul was delighted by this thought. He’d chosen the right room.

Paul felt around for a wall, a light switch, a puzzle. Anything.

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” said a deep voice.

“Hello?” Paul said after a moment.

“You lived a selfish life, Paul. You cared for nothing and no one but yourself and your own pleasure. You were an idolater, a heretic. You raised the Escape Game to the heights of a god. Pity that from this place, there is no escape.”

Paul listened carefully to the monologue. Selfish. Idolater. Raised. Heights. These things might be clues.

“Paul,” said the deep voice, which seemed to come from above, below, and all around him, “You died a foolish death. Pity that you did not suffer. But now, you will suffer for eternity.”

Paul was already climbing up a staircase he’d found. It was the disused waterpark. Raise, he thought. Heights. The key was to go up.

He found a craggy, warm wall. There was something under his hand– a button? He pushed it in, hard.

Under his hand, a huge glowing red eye flew open.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH!”

The eye blinked in pain and fury, welling up with tears. A thousand more eyes flew open along the wall before him, and Paul saw that it was not a wall at all, but some kind of enormous creature. It stirred, its red gaze illuminating the space around them.

“Stupid man. You woke something up.”

But now Paul could see the entire room– or space, or whatever it was. What he’d taken to be the “floor” was a mass of flesh– human hands, it looked like, reaching up stiffly. The hands started to stir as the creature woke from its slumber. What Paul had taken for a staircase was not that.

Paul was making some real progress. As the hands clamored over each other, rising like tentacles from around the immense eyes, Paul hopped onto the face of the thing and started using the eyes as hand-and-footholds, which was their obvious use. Paul could spare no time on figuring out little things like that the honest way, he was on a clock. As he stepped on the creature’s eyes, it let out another unearthly roar and started to rise.

There was a hole in the ceiling. Yes– this was meant to be a cave of some sort, and it had an exit.

“You idiot,” the voice boomed. “You–”

Paul kicked the creature in the eye a few more times to make it rise faster. A tsunami of pale, writhing hands on wiggling stems shot up towards him to slap him away, but by the time they reached him, he was already through the hole.

Paul scurried through the tunnel as fast as he could. If it was a three-person puzzle, you couldn’t waste any time.

He came to the next room, which was well-lit– a nice reprieve. In this room, a sweltering cave, some props department had gone all-out carving little demon faces that stuck out from the sides. These gargoyle-like stone structures leered at him and grinned in anticipation.

“The flametongue is coming, kindling,” the demon voices hissed. “Ready or not!” Paul heard a splashing, gurgling sound up ahead. He took quick note of some of the quirks of the gargoyle faces– most of them had black scorch marks on them, but some didn’t. That was a clue. The light from the other end of the tunnel grew brighter, as did the gurgling. Paul realized what he was meant to do, climbed up the protesting gargoyles, and found a set on the ceiling which had no scorching on them. Below, a wave of red-hot boiling sulferous-smelling magma flowed down, passing over the other gargoyles, who screeched and sputtered in it. Another puzzle solved. Paul dropped down once the stones cooled, and hurried up the tunnel– no time to spare. Only one more wave of “fire” passed before he solved the gargoyle pattern and pulled the right ones out of the wall in sequence to reveal a hidden exit.

This escape room was huge. He made his way through a room which featured a river of moving knives, which he was able to avoid by memorizing the timing and patterns, and climbed up into a room full of blistering ice and animatronic zombies which lurched toward him, their bodies crackling as they froze just as soon as they’d moved, their lips split by the cold. This puzzle was a simple matter of lining up the giant shards of ice in the room so that the light concentrated and blasted a hole through the glacial wall.

Paul’s own body was profoundly frostbitten by this point, but he didn’t notice. He was on a timer.

By the time Paul finally made it past the “three-headed-dog on a chain” puzzle, that subterranean voice from the first room had caught up with him.

“Paul,” the voice said. “There is no hope. There is no escape. Do you understand? You are dead, Paul–”

“Ssh,” Paul said, gazing at the puzzle before him.

The door was immense. It seemed to stretch above him and beyond for miles. It was carved from stone older than the bedrock of earth, and above it, in an arch as large as the firmament, there was carved a phrase:

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

This was clearly important, because the deep voice had already voiced it earlier in the game. After checking the area for tools, Paul ran through anagrams. There were a lot of little props around the big door– lots of discarded holy texts, some bones, some strange bits of giant insectoid carapaces which Paul could not immediately identify. The bibles and such had bits burned and torn off of them in places. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. That was a ciper, maybe. He was sweating. He had to be at nearly an hour already. He started arranging the bones.

“What you are doing is futile nonsense,” the deep voice said.

Aha! By turning the phrase above the gate into numbers and then matching those numbers to the non-burned sections of each holy text, organized by the printing date, Paul had discovered an anagram which, when re-ordered, spelled out skeleton key prop, ds flo knemb yyuq. Paul had only bothered to spell out the first three words, however, due to the time crunch. That was all he needed to understand what to do, and he had done it: he had connected all the bones into one big key.

“I don’t think you understand, Paul. This is not a game. You cannot escape your fate. You cannot escape your death. You cannot escape damnation. You cannot escape from Hell.”

Paul slid the giant skeleton key into the lock. It took all of his strength to shove it to the back. Behind him, the host of hell scrambled over each other up the lip of the abyss– the thousand hands and eyes, the fire-spitting gargoyles, the lurching ice zombies, the great black dog, and many others, come to claim him for their own special torment.

Paul turned the key. There was a click.

Well– more of a thunderous clunk.

The deep, gravelly noise of the stone door opening reverberated all throughout Hell.

“What the–”

“Hell yeah!” Paul shouted. He ducked through the door.

The red eye of the security camera caught it all. The man, crawling through the gap in the elevator. The lurch. The fall. The split.

The hopeless paramedics, the traumatized front desk boy, the shaking venue manager, the anxious lawyers, the dozens of police putting up brand-new yellow “do not cross” signage around the old hotel.

The red eye of the security camera watched on as people in grim uniforms put the larger piece of what had been paul into a black bodybag and fetched the rest from the third story floor.

“Used to love this waterpark when I was a little kid,” said one of the paramedics to another. “Now I hope they tear it down.”

“Wasn’t this place a lawsuit magnet back in the day?” said the other. “I remember a kid–”

The paramedics both noticed at the same moment that the body bag was moving. A lot.

“Is he alive in there?” The first paramedic choked out, even though he understood that the answer had to be no. But then the zipper started sliding down. The bag was opening from the inside.

The headless body of Paul Gibson sat up. It reached out with its stumps of fingers, covered in cool dark blood, and rolled out onto the hotel lobby floor. Both paramedics screamed and leapt away as the decapitated Paul stumbled to its feet and lurched forward. It felt around without its fingers, leaving smears of blood on the front desk, the wall, the table, the “do not cross” tape, until it found the small white cooler on the floor. He pried it open with his mangled hands and lifted his own iced head out.

Paul put his head on top of the gristle that was his neck. He had it the wrong way around, but his eyes opened and he smiled through bloody teeth.

“I ss-ss-olved the b-a-ag puzzle,” the formerly dead man sputtered. “Did it a-all mys-self.”

He turned around to face both paramedics, so that his front side faced away.

“Uh… congratulations,” the second paramedic said.

Paul choked up more blood and grinned wider. He stumbled toward the front desk, toward the paramedics. They backed away from him in horror as he reached out the wrong way and grabbed a commemorative I Escaped! sticker from the top of the pile.

“Th-a-ank you,” Paul said. “I’ll be su-ure to come back soon!”

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blueaprondelight · 7 months ago

Note

Cannot wait to read your Carmen cowboy fanfic!!

save a horse, ride your cowboy | carmen berzatto (18+ content ahead) description; joining the meads ranch wasn’t always your plan. neither was falling for the handsome cowboy there. (wc: 2.45k)

cw: nsfw content (see warnings below) - reader's age is not said but is over 18, y/n used, afab!reader with she/her pronouns used

content warnings: slow burn (this is a long fanfic, sue me), i guess kinda public sex? i mean its in a bedroom and there’s no one hearing them but like shh, this fanfic took me like five months to write (not a joke) and if it sucks or some parts are unclear um blame it on that!, um i didnt write this as filthy as i wanted to but still; finger reader (x2), reader riding carmen (per the title), timeskip (a year prior to a year later), afab!reader, non-descript!reader but if there is something that i should change lmk, carmen eating reader out, hookup plot i guess?? friends to lovers sort of? idk really, unprotected sex (filthy) nav post | inbox | more of mae writes: the bear 🐻

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐆𝐎 . . .

From a distance, the Meads Ranch had seemed like a small glimpse of heaven on earth.

Cattle roamed the fields while the sun was beginning to rise, pickup trucks being driven off of the ranch and leaving trails of dirt behind them. Pieces of hay are scattered around everywhere you walk.

Carmen had first noticed you when you came out of the main Mitchell family lodge. The property had similar lodges, but that was the one used for most of the family, and the oldest lodge on the land.

You had been brought to the ranch as a chance from an old family friend. Almost like you’re second chance at life.

Gavin Mitchell, the oldest son, walked out of the house with you by his side. You two, laughing and talking. "I'm so glad you are joining us, and- oh! Carmen." Gavin walks over to Carmen, his arm resting on the cattle fence Carmen had spent the past few days repairing. "This is Y/N. You are going to train her on ranch life."

"Yes, sir." Carmen nods. You could tell by the tone in his voice he either wasn't happy about training you, or he'd done it so many times before it felt exhausting.

Gavin leaves you two alone. You smile, holding your hand out. "Hi, I'm-"

"Pick that pair of pliers up and get to work." He states.

Huh. Definetly taking the cold shoulder approach.

──

Much to your surprise, you and Carmen got over the cold approach. He’d become somewhat more open with you within the first month of your time on the ranch.

It wasn’t a fast thing. The opposite, actually. It took him a day to learn your name instead of saying ‘you’ when he needed something from you. It took him a week to start conversations with you, instead of you starting them with him.

Now a month later. He had been told by the other handlers on the ranch they were going out, and Carmen was expected to go with them. But not without-

“You wanna go to the bar with me?” He’d blurted out to you while you and him were working in one of the barns. It caught you off guard, so much so you took a minute to register it was him speaking to you and not his usual muttering to himself.

You turned and looked at him, letting out a soft chuckle. “Um.. you’re going to a bar?” You question first. Carmen hadn’t made it a secret he hated the bars in town. Too many tourists, people ruining good songs during karaoke.

“Well- the other handlers are but the dumbasses can’t be trusted to handle themselves, so.. I wanted to know if you wanted to come.” Carmen says, as he continued focusing on his work, almost using that as a distraction from having to make eye contact with you.

“Sure, I’ll come.” You had agreed. To Carmen’s pure surprise, you had said yes. And not a pity yes, or at least not an obvious one.

Needless to say, you being there made it actually enjoyable. Carmen wasn’t a drinker, and neither were you. It was one of the few things you two had in common, or that you knew you had in common.

You and him had found a somewhat secluded table in the bar, talking all night. He found himself asking questions about you, and he heard your laugh.

God. That laugh. He was sure if heaven had a sound attached to it, it would be that.

And eventually, you and him managed to wrangle all your guys into a truck with the ranch’s logo on the side, and managed to get yourselves back to the ranch.

Walking down a dirt path that lead to the handler house, it was just you and Carmen. His hands remained in the front pockets of his jeans. “I uh, had a really good time tonight.” He says. It was like admitting he liked being around you, without so many words.

“I did too, Carmen.” You say back as you walk onto the front porch with him right behind you. You stand there, making eye contact with him, both of you silent.

And that night, you and him almost kissed on the porch. *Almost.* Had it not been for one of the other handlers, Lee, throwing open the door to ask you two if you had any idea where his car keys were, you were sure you would have kissed him.

Another kiss for another time, you supposed.

──

And that kiss had come at another time. It was almost a week later when you and him found yourselves alone again in the barn. Somehow you and him always ended up in a barn.

You hadn’t been expecting it. Ever since the barn, it was like Carmen had made an effort to talk to you. Asking about your life before the ranch, telling you about his in return. He told you about his hopes, his family. And he’d make a point to stand close to you as he spoke to you.

Maybe he thought you didn’t notice the way he’d look at you out of the corner of your eye. A look that made it seem like he was asking himself if being this close to you was a good idea, and he’d decided it was.

It was silent for a pause before you decided to speak again. “You’re standing awfully close right now.” You comment. But your tone didn’t show you were upset by it, rather intrigued.

“Do you want me to back up?” He asks, his voice low. You turn to look at him, and that’s when you realize how close he actually is. His face close to yours.

You swallow before you speak. “No.” You answer, trying to keep your voice steady. You fail, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

He took a small step closer. A step that made a huge difference, because now he was looking at your lips. You decide to ask the question this time. “Do you want to kiss me?” You question.

He takes in a breath, before he decides to answer. “Yeah.” He says, as his eyes meet your again like he’s waiting for your approval. And you nod.

Go ahead. Your eyes were telling him. Kiss me.

And he did. His lips met yours in a sweep, his hands cupping your cheeks instantly. It’s soft at first, as he takes his time getting used to kissing you. And once he’s adjusted, he presses you up against the wall.

After you two had a makeout session like a couple of pathetic teenagers, he grabbed your hand and practically ran with you into the handler house. He had brought you into his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you both.

From there, it was a switching pattern of throwing off clothes. His shirt, your shirt. His jeans, your jeans. Him laying you back as he takes your panties off and then gently placing kisses up your thigh. His eyes met yours as if silently asking for approval. You nod, desperate for him to just keep kissing up, and up, and-

He does. He kissed up your thigh, his lips finding on and sucking on your desperate clit. Your hands immediately fly to his head, fingers grasping at curls. The action elicits a guttural groan from Carmen, which practically vibrates through you as he eats you like a man starved.

His tongue is replaced by his fingers, thrusting in and out of you at a torture of a pace, his lips kissing and sucking on your glistening clit. His fingers are soaked, and he couldn’t care less. All he cares about is feeling you, not about the mess it makes.

Carmen was a simple man. He could get off on eating you out. The gasps and moans were enough to make him feel like he would just mess up his pants right then and there. And he almost does.

But can you blame him? You look so pretty like this. His nose bumping your clit as he watches his fingers slide in and out of you, the squelch noise it produces being more heavingly than it should be. Your soft pleas of “more” and “please” make him grin, and you can feel that cocky smile against your clit as he places a few feathery kisses on it.

He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers. Each time he removes them, he can feel you trying to keep them in, to surround them with yourself. He doesn’t mind though. The action only turns him on more.

“So pretty like this.” You can barely hear him mumble. You aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or your pussy. “Such a good girl f’me.”

And by the time you’re actually cumming on his fingers, he’s grinning like the cat from Alice in Wonderland. He watches as you fall apart on his fingers, and he has to resist the urge to lick your climax off of his hands.

He has to take his time with you.

“You did so good, baby.” He says, the pet name slipping out before he can stop it. You’re not complaining though. He presses kisses all over your face. On your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw as he praises you. “Did so good.”

Yeah. No way to ignore what was clearly happening between you both.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘 . . .

The golden lights hitting your face from the small cabin you and the other handlers lived in. Your room was at the end of a hallway, and you could hear the chaos of the other handlers starting in the kitchen below your room.

A small groan comes from beside you as you go to pull yourself out of bed. Carmen’s arms hug your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Do we really have to get up now?” Carmen may have been the ranches best handler, but that didn’t mean he was happy about the early hours.

“Afraid so, cowboy.” You turn, facing him. His arms stay planted where they are around your waist as he buries his face into your neck. He smells like cedarwood and apple, his aftershave smell still lingering as you place a few light kisses on his cheek.

“Mm. Call me cowboy again, shit’s sexy.” He requests as he places feathery kisses on your collarbone. You let out a soft laugh as his beard stubble scratches your cheek.

“You just don’t wanna go down there so they can celebrate your five years here.” You point out in a whispered voice as your hand scratches as his scalp, fingers running through morning curls.

“Makes me feel old.” He replies, his voice gruff as he climbs on top of you, placing kisses up your collarbone and on your neck as his arms wrap around your waist, arms wrapped around you. “Would rather celebrate with you instead.”

You weren’t complaining to that idea. You let him slide your pajama shorts down your legs, throwing them off some place. Lucky for him, you “forgot” your panties the night before.

Unlucky for him, cause he had a habit of tossing them aside and then keeping them.

He kissed at your neck as his hand teased you, fingers lightly trailing up your thigh. Getting closer to where you so badly wanted him- and he could tell. He could feel how soaked you were. Normally, he’d take his time. Tease you about it. But that idea was pushed out of his mind when he was desperate to feel you fall apart on his fingers.

He gently coaxed one finger past your folds. He could hear the strangled gasp that came out of you when he finally inserted a digit into you, and he fucking loved it. He would listen to that sound over and over again if he could.

He let his finger thrust in and out of you, letting you enjoy the feeling before he added a second. You were practically a goner by the point he’d inserted his first finger, but with the second? Oh, you were practically a mess.

And then his thumb rubbed soft circles on your clit, with him whispering praises in your ear? For sure, you were a goner.

He had to cover your mouth with his hand as you reached your climax. The other handlers were still downstairs, and he didn’t need them hearing you. Your moans, your failed attempts to beg for more were his to hear. Not someone else’s.

He pressed kisses to your jaw as you caught your breath. His rule of never properly, in his words, fucking you before you had at least one orgasm was proving to be very beneficial for you.

He lets you recover as he kisses you. Lets you catch your breath before he’s subtly pulling you on top of him as his tongue slides into your mouth with such ease.

“This is your big day. Pretty sure we should be celebrating you.” You murmur between kisses. He grins as you straddle him.

They have a saying in a world like yours. Save a horse. Ride a cowboy.

So, you do! You pull away from his lips as you place kisses down his jaw, whilst your free hand reaches and lowers his boxers. Ever so subtly lowering yourself onto him.

Carmen wasn’t an idiot. He could tell what you had been doing, but he wasn’t gonna stop you. Not when you looked too damn good riding him.

You kept your movements steady, at a pace you knew he’d speed up soon. His hands remained on your hips as he watched you. When your lips return to his neck, he feels like a mess. His mind is fuzzy, he can’t form a single thought besides the word “more”.

Now he was the one moaning under you. You knew how to drive him crazy, and you were doing it.

And how could he not? You took him so well. He stretched you out perfectly, hit the right spots. If he could stay buried inside of you all day, he probably would.

As soon as his hands began grasping your hips and the skin there, you knew to speed up, and you complied. He threw his head back, holding you so tight you knew he’d leave a bruise.

And by the time he spills inside of you, you’re sure he has. You don’t take long to follow right after him.

“Okay—” He says breathlessly after that potentially earth shattering climax. “Next time we do that, I am totally having you wear my hat.”

That elicits a giggle out of both of you.

#maeberzatto #mae writes!#mae writes: the bear #mae's multiverses ♡#carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fx #carmen berzatto x you #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x female reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fanfic

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moonydustx · 1 year ago

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To belong to you

requests | mastelist Pairing: Trafalgar D. Law x F! Reader Summary: sequel of A not so funny story. In this one, we see Law dealing with a somewhat stubborn reader, while he can barely deal with his feelings. Warnings: fluffy, a little hotter at the end, violence, Law exposing his feelings (this will always be a warning for me). W/C: 3.5K a/c: tried not to take so long to produce, but I ended up getting carried away by the text. Regarding the smutty, I'm thinking about bringing it to a third part, I believe this one was too big. Hope you like.

requested by anon: ok ok now m waiting for a sequel with an overprotective-clingy-lover emo boy Law who keeps reader at his sight❣️ ~ maybe a smutty? idk just give me some more Law

Part 1 | Part 3 (NSFW)

A week, two days and a few hours.

For a week, two days and a few hours Law's sleep became scarcer - which seemed impossible - at the same time, he seemed to have found a new hobby. You.

Since the fateful day he discovered what he had done, even if unconsciously, Law had made it his duty to be your support point. At the same time, even though he dedicated himself to repairing this mistake, nightmares continued to haunt the little sleep he still had. Some days, it was as if he only revisited the afternoon he saw you hurt. In others, it was as if he was fully aware of what he had done.

You didn't complain about all that attention. Of course, the guilt was clear in his eyes and you wished you could lift such a burden from him, but Law's temperament was already known as irreducible, it was almost impossible for you to become the person who would change that.

Sleep had also left you aside that night. Maybe because you were anxious, the next morning you would be emerging on the next island and you would finally see the sunlight again. Maybe your mind kept playing tricks and unlike the nightmares that Law had, you kept having dreams that were closer and closer to him.

What you had left that night was to catch up on your studies. The small stack of books piled up next to your small green notebook while you had been sitting on one of the cafeteria benches for half an hour facing the same calculation.

"I didn't expect to find company at this hour." Law appeared at the cafeteria entrance. The same tired eyes, but the gentle tone in his voice pleased you. "Sleepless?"

"I've been in bed for a long time this week, Captain. What about you, sleepless?"

"I ended up distracted by reading. I just came to get something to eat." he walked past you, heading over to one of the counters. "Did you remember to drink your tea?"

"Perhaps." you just responded and you could hear him grumble in response. It only took a few minutes for the cup to appear in front of him. "Do I really need to take this? It's horrible!"

"It's a medicine, its function is to be horrible, but to end up curing you." surprising you, he sat next to you. Next to it, a plate with some onigiris. You just looked at Law and your horrible cup of tea. "What?"

"How can such a pretty drink, full of flowers, be so horrible?"

"Drink it." in a way, you knew that his impatient tone at that moment wasn't serious at all. "I promise to reward you."

"Saying it like that, I feel like a child." you grumbled, taking a sip of your drink and trying to avoid the disgusted look on your face. Law, unlike you, seemed to enjoy his late dinner. "Next time, please give me poison. I will die happy."

"Good girl, congratulations." he said, in a cynical tone. Even so, the words pointed to another place in your mind. "I bet it wasn't that horrible."

"Said the one who's gorging himself on onigiri." With your complaint, Law just stretched out the piece he had already taken a bite of.

Maybe your intrusive thoughts, maybe it was just the desire to get the horrible taste out of your mouth, but you accepted what he offered.

She's just taking a piece. Law's mind looped through the seconds you bit the food. The lack of sleep must be playing tricks on him, making him imagine things he shouldn't. Are your lips as soft as they seem?

"So. What are you studying?" Law's brain went blank, searching for the first random topic that crossed his mind.

"Blood. In fact, I took a calculation to do and ended up getting lost. In the book it seems so much simpler."

"Let me see." He set the plate aside and approached your notebook.

Gray eyes looked attentively at each written number and you were busy analyzing it. The smell that came from him was the same as the t-shirt you had worn that day, his eyes had clear dark circles beneath them and even though it wasn't perfectly done, the little beard he had seemed to outline his face and seemed to match the dark tone. of the small piece of his tattoo that showed.

"So…" he began, pointing to the notebook. "Here, you're taking the wrong route. To calculate this type of transfusion, first you have to base it on the patient's weight and then use this formula. See."

You were too distracted by him and he was too distracted by the silly calculation you were so lost in. When he turned to ask if you understood, the only thing he found were your eyes watching him. Just a few centimeters away, his eyes danced between yours and your lips, wondering if the action would be hasty. Maybe it wasn't ideal to take the risk.

"Nerd." You muttered, letting out a small laugh.

"Just smarter than you." he replied, pulling away a little. "Take one more."

"Thank you captain!"

The night passed faster than you expected. Accompanied by Law, you spent most of the night redoing some exercises while he helped you, or at least watched you. And even though sleep hit your body, it was hard to close your eyes and sleep after spending so much time with him.

The morning came quickly and as usual on the days you emerged, you and Bepo were standing just staring at the sun on your skin. Some other companions were already beginning to disembark.

"I found you." Law's voice brought them both out of their little sunbath. "You take care of buying food."

"Ay captain!" Bepo reached out his hand, picking up the berries.

"You." He turned around, looking at you seriously. "No running, no heavy lifting, no long walks."

"All right, boss." you saluted, just to annoy him and watched him leave, without giving much more explanation.

The afternoon passed quickly in the small village. At least in the commercial part of the village, everything seemed very busy and colorful, as well as having huge taverns that you would definitely go to.

In addition to you and Bepo, the two also dragged Clione along for the task, which wasn't enough. Despite the captain's clear warning, you managed to convince Bepo that it was just an idle worry, which ended with you carrying some bags under your back.

"Need help?" the bear climbed Polar Tang first, reaching out to you.

As soon as you appeared in the Heart Pirates captain's field of vision, you knew you were in trouble. The blue dome enveloped you and soon the weight lifted from your back. Instead, two small flowers appeared on the ground.

"It seems the two of them decided to ignore my warning." Law grumbled as you picked up the two colorful branches that were at your feet.

"My fault, there's no need to fight him." you took the lead, going to where Law was standing. Around him, in addition to the bags he had taken from you, were a few small bouquets of plants and flowers, all as colorful as the city they had just visited. "What are these?"

"Just a few missing ingredients can become medicine, tea, ointments." he bent down, plucking a small yellow flower and handing it to you. "Something tells me your favorite is this one."

"Oh, God no." the image of last night's horrible tea came to mind. you held the flower up to your nose. The sweet smell was delicious, but just remembering the taste made your stomach turn. "It's so beautiful, but so bad." you made to return it, seeing him raise his hand and deny it.

"It is not necessary."

"Thanks." you laughed, pinning the small flower to the zipper of your jumpsuit.

"Captain." two humming voices came towards you. "What do you think about going to a bar today?"

"You can go." he responded to Shachi and Penguim, who were not convinced and joined in a chorus of please. "I'm not in the mood."

"Please, Captain. The town seems nice, I bet the bars are too." you joined the other two, interceding.

You knew that Law wasn't the most sociable person in the world, but if there was something you could boast about, it was your power of persuasion - which you hadn't yet realized only worked on him.

"Okay, okay." he gave up, seeing the three of you cheer up and Bepo shouting happily in the background. "However, no alcohol for you."

"Yet?" you grumbled, but his expression already made the answer clear. Your power of persuasion wouldn't work this time.

You weren't the type to take alcohol seriously enough for it to bother you, just going to a new place would be good enough for you. As soon as night fell, you started getting ready. As much as you wanted to wear something lighter, you didn't know how comfortable you would feel showing the scar on your leg, even though it was already partially healed, it wasn't such a pretty sight. You put on pants and a simple, comfortable blouse and headed towards the bar with Ikkaku.

Law watched you from afar. Unlike most of the women there, you weren't balancing on thin heels or with a face so adorned with colors that made your real expression disappear. You were you.

He saw you sit at one of the tables with the other companions. Everyone with drinks in front of them, except you. He could use some alcohol on him to give him the courage he lacked, but he knew it would be unfair. Ignoring the judgmental looks, he ordered two glasses of juice and took them to the table, looking for a place to sit.

"No vodka?" Ikkaku looked at the cup in front of you and the cup in front of the captain. "This is new."

"I'm banned until further notice." you replied, raising your glass to toast your captain. "At least someone had compassion on me."

"So cute." Ikkaku cheered and you surreptitiously tried to elbow her. "So, I saw people playing in the background. She can play, right captain?"

"As long as she doesn't bet Polar Tang." he replied, a shy smile on his lips. As much as he didn't admit it out loud, something woke up in him when the two of you were in some way related. "I think betting a mink could make some good money." he turned to Bepo, who immediately complained.

"Never!" you stood up, placing yourself next to Ikkaku and picking up your glass. "I'll be right back, I'll take the money from some idiots." you smiled, turning your face towards your captain. A soundless thank you left your lips, as you pointed to the glass in your hands.

Law tried to disguise it, tried to ignore your presence. It was as if your body had some kind of magnet, which made it find you in the midst of so many people who crowded into that bar.

The first time he looked at you, you and Ikkaku were side by side singing something that he couldn't hear from where he was, around you some other people were singing and others were playing cards. He could see some looks that bothered him. Why did they look at you like that? Law could feel the repulsion of those men, even from a distance.

The second time, the two of you seemed to be dealing the cards. A man next to you, one of the same ones who was looking at you, seemed to whisper something in your ear that seemed to have offended you. The expression soon disappeared from your face, returning to a calm expression. At that moment, Law could feel his body tingle and had to suppress the urge to make the man's head roll off his body, even though he had no idea what he had said to you.

The third time, the only thing Law saw was your head being pushed against the table, after that he only saw red and pure hatred in front of him. The other crew members with whom he shared the table only noticed a small playing card slowly fall towards the upholstery.

This time you hadn't stolen in the game but apparently some bastard decided you were hiding some cards. You felt your head against the table and you could hear Ikkaku swear. You could easily get out of there and reach for your dagger hidden in your boot, you could also trip and see the guy hit his own head against the table. You knew you wouldn't need to do anything when you saw a blue dome appear in front of you.

Unlike the many times you had seen him fight, Law didn't use his sword or his devil fruit. His hands reached for the man, twisting his arm and slamming his head against the table, ten times harder than what had been done to yours. The other man, who was restraining Ikkaku, immediately released her.

"What happened?" he asked and you knew the question was directed at you, even though he kept pinning the man against the table.

"They thought we were stealing in the game."

"He said we would pay for what we stole from him with money or anything else we could offer." Ikkaku added, as you stood up and untied your clothes.

"The bastard likes to threaten others." Law muttered and within seconds, the man's head rolled on the table, as he screamed desperately, not understanding what had happened. Looking around, Law reached for a small knife and immediately stuck it to the side of the man's head. "Next time I see you, I won't need to use any power to rip your head off."

Law walked away, his eyes immediately searched for you. You had your back to him, checking to see if your friend had gotten hurt.

"Are you two okay?" he walked closer, searching for any signs of injury on the two of you. At that point in the fight, the entire crew was already gathered alongside.

"It's okay captain, it was just that asshole. The others tried to help us." Ikkaku explained.

"Understood." He tried to calm things down, still thinking about what that stupid guy could have done if, for some moment, you had left his sight.

"For today, that's enough." you sighed, trying to give your best smile, which with all the stress caused, seemed impossible. "I'm going back to Polar Tang. I think today's activities tired me out."

You lied, blatantly. You weren't tired, on the contrary. The whole fight, Law showing up to defend you, that had lit you up. The only question that was going through your head was where Law's anger had come from. It wasn't the first time you ended up fighting with someone in a bar and every time Law would just laugh a little or if things got out of hand, He gave a little fright to anyone who even touched his crew. Today the gray eyes that accompanied you so much appreciate you full of fury.

"I'll join you. You guys, enjoy." Law took out some berries and placed them in Ikkaku's hand. "The next rounds are on me."

Bepo made to accompany you two, but was stopped by his friends. They seemed to see the entire situation clearer than the two of you ever would.

The walk to the submarine was quiet, much quieter than you were used to. Despite the beat, your head didn't hurt besides the fact that you saw Law analyze every inch of you after the argument.

Even after entering Polar Tang, silence prevailed between the two of you, it bothered you a lot more than you tried to show. Taking much smaller steps than Law's, you tried to catch up to him before he locked himself in his room and then you'm will only see him the next morning.

"Hang on!" You tried to follow him and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew he had heard you. "Captain!"

"I don't want to talk about it right now." he replied, stopping in front of his room.

"I am sorry but no." you replied and understanding that perhaps you had a discussion too serious to have there in the middle of the corridor, you just indicated the door behind him. "Let's just talk, just five minutes of your attention, okay?"

He could feel the blood boil in his veins, the words burned in Law's throat. Damn that damn bar, damn all the things that still haunted his mind. He had fallen, and fallen hard.

"I understand." you leaned the door behind you, keeping your arms crossed. "I understand all your concern, I mean, you have been carrying a burden that is not yours."

"No?" he laughed, almost cynically. "I won't apologize for that."

"What about all that at the bar?" you asked, approaching him. "About almost killing a guy over a card game."

"He was hurting you." the words came out of his mouth, bluntly.

You stopped a few centimeters away from him, watching him. You wanted to sound intimidating, you wanted to impose yourself on him, but it was him. It was the serious eyes looking down on you, the posture, the smell that emanated from him. As much as your brain tried to deny it, something in you liked - almost needed - Law to protect you.

"You know I'm not that fragile, right?" You held his arms, looking for even the slightest reaction. "I don't break so easily, if that's what makes you worry about me so much."

Law wished he had more time to plan, he wished he hadn't been as close to you as he was last week. That cat and mouse hunt between the two of you worked for a long time. It worked when he watched someone talk for too long over you and he chose to leave his jealousy aside, it worked when he watched you fight so many times and chose not to intrude, it worked when he saw your curves marked by any other clothes you wore ,except the crew's overalls, and he had to try his best not to look. It worked, sentence passed, something left aside.

"I like you." he began, the words coming out like relief from his lips. "I like you and to be honest, I don't know how to deal with it."

"Why not?"

"We are pirates, I have enemies, people who can use this to target me." he pointed to the space between the two of you. "I don't know if I can handle this, damn, I could barely hold my own against a drunk at the bar. I like you too much to risk you."

Just like the day he had seen you injured, his hands found your face, holding it as if it were the most precious thing Law had ever laid his hands on.

"I have a proposal." your hands found his, caressing them. "Here, in this room, just here it will be Law and me. Without all the worries of a captain, without all the responsibilities of a crew member, without fears. Just you and me, one belonging to the other. No one needs to know."

You wanted to say that maybe it wouldn't work and that maybe the two of you would just come out of this story more broken. You could also say that you would understand if he hated the idea. Before any words found the sound of the room, your lips were stolen by his.

None of Law's thoughts matched what he was feeling. Your lips giving way so he could taste a little of you. Your hands left his and spread out over the small gap in the open shirt he wore. Every inch of your body still seemed small for him to explore, his hands went down to your waist, almost merging his body with yours. He could stay there, in that room trapped with you for days. Damn the life of a captain, damn all the rationality he valued so much, you were more than enough.

"So…" you moved a few millimeters away from him, looking for just enough space to catch your breath.

One of his hands went up to your chin, one of his fingers running over your swollen and red lips in an almost sinful caress. How long did he wait to be like that?

One of his hands tangled in your hair, gently squeezing it so you could give him space. Law's lips - now warmer than when they first touched you - ran down your neck. You wouldn't take Law for an avid lover, but the way he held your body to his said completely the opposite.

"I accept your proposal." His low voice whispered next to your ear. His mind took him to dark places, but a little rationality still kept him lucid. "But maybe, maybe we should stop for now."

"No, we shouldn't." Serene eyes looked at him, but the malice in your words was clear.

"Yeah, we shouldn't."

#fiction #reader insert #one piece #no use of y/n #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #one piece fic #requests open

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strayheartless · 8 months ago

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AGS and childhood teddy bears because I said so:

Angeal: His childhood teddy bear was made by his mother. It has lopsided ears and a wonky eye and his name is “Freddy”. Angeal did not name Freddy, Angeal’s dad named Freddy and really he wouldn’t have it any other way.

As a child Angeal took Freddy pretty much everywhere with him: to the market, do the beach, the doctors office. Even, on one very horrifically memorable occasion, to a funeral…. Now Freddy sits on his night stand looking a little worse for wear but no less loved. Angeal patches up every moth eaten hole and replaces any lost stuffing. He’s got a book on his shelf about Teddy bear repairing and no one is willing to make even the tiniest bit of fun of him. Freddy, to Angeal, is as important as the Buster sword.

Except Zack doesn’t really know what happened to Freddy after he is captured. He’d managed to rescue the little bear before Shinra came in to erase Angeal’s existence but now…?

Genesis: Genesis’ childhood teddybear sits in his bedroom on his bed and gods help you if you touch it. Genesis had many toys growing up, and all of them had backstories and personalities but Gigi was special. The bear had been given to Genesis by his mother after a trip to Junon when he was three. She had been away for weeks and despite the fact that she otherwise showed little interest in him past what he wore and ate, Genesis had missed her so much he’d thrown up crying the night she left. When she came back, bear in hand Genesis had been so delighted at the unusual display of motherly love that he’d completely failed to realise the bear had not come from Junon nor had it come from his mother. In fact the little bear came from a tiny toy shop in the market place and had been bought for him by his Nanny, who had accosted Genevieve Rhapsodos in the hall muttering:

“If he thinks it’s from you he may just be soothed better when you go away again.”

It did and Genesis was never any the wiser. All anyone ever had to do to get him to shut up was hand him Gigi and he promptly curled up either with a book or to sleep. Even when he burned Gigi to a crisp in his rage over the lie that was his life, he never knew his “mother” had not been the one to buy the bear.

Sephiroth: Sephiroth did not have a childhood stuffed animal or any kind. Hojo thought them inane while Gast fretted about the germs they carried, so Sephiroth went without. He had his locket and that was all that mattered to him for a very long time until….

Seeing Freddy and Gigi, Sephiroth is hit with unimaginable envy over what could have been. The loss he feels is stupid. It was an inanimate object for Gaia’s sake! He should not be bereft at the sight of it! Except he is, and he wants his own so badly it aches.

Sephiroth has a little ritual of patting Freddy gently on the head in greeting and nodding to Gigi when he sits on his friends beds. Angeal watches him with sympathy in his gaze while Genesis watches him like a hawk around his bear. But both of them know the reason behind the gesture and never point it out.

Until one holiday Angeal hands him a little brown paper wrapped package wrapped up in red and white twine, the way the shop owners used to wrap the toys in Banora. When Seph opens it he doesn’t speak, just touches the little tiger stuffy with reverence and lets the tears fall. Like Genesis, Sephiroth is very protective of teddy (he’s not imaginative with names leave him be). No one mentions that he stays on the pillow across from Sephiroth, and nobody mentions that most mornings Sephiroth wakes with teddy pressed to his cheek and subconsciously rubs its soft fur across his top lip soothingly.

Years from now HR will throw that same tiger doll into a black bag and into a land fill in the sector seven slums. Years from now a vendor will pick it out, clean it up and sell it to a tall man with a gun for a hand and a baby strapped to his chest who just rolled into town. He wants it for the baby, his daughter, and she sleeps with it every night.

Years and Years from now that same little girl will solomnly tell that tiger to watch over her brother while her uncle Cloud looks for a cure…

Years and years form now a winged stranger in a red leather coat with spy the little Tiger sat on the whiskey shelf for “safe keeping” and no one will know how to sooth him because no one knows what’s wrong.

#ffvii #ff7 #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #sephiroth #crisis core #ffvii advent children #marlene wallace #barrat wallace #cloud strife #AGS #AGS + teddy bears #AGS headcanons #Angeal headcanons #Genesis headcanons #sephiroth headcanons

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yoursweetheartsrevenge · 3 months ago

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Summary: While touring the countryside, Aegon and Aemond get lost from the rest of the royal party. Left with no other choice during a thunderstorm, they enter a quaint inn with no rooms left. Surely they can convince the maiden who paid for the last available room to share?

Read on Ao3

Written for @hotd-bigbang

Warnings: smut (fingering, p in v sex, oral - female and male receiving, threesome), loss of virginity, Aegon has only one thing on his mind, MINORS DNI, 18+

Word Count: 7.9K+

Author’s Note: Written for @hotd-bigbang First Prompt: Tropes - one room, one bed, love triangle kind of. This is the first time I am writing Aegon as a main character and writing the two brothers together. I had a fantastic time. I suspect more Aegon x Reader X Aemond in my future writings. Also apparently I can’t keep anything short!

On A Dark Stormy Night You Awaken

The meal is warm while the outside rages.

You can hear the thunder shake flickering the candles laid about the cozy interior of the inn. You slice into the breaded mutton with thin utensils glad to have the last room for the night. The storm had caused many travelers to flock to the inn on the road to King’s Landing. There were many who were going to the tourney for the prince’s name day.

At this point in the evening, slightly damp and a bit nervous, you could not remember which prince was celebrating the joyous occasion.

Your wares were in your single bedroom nestled in the corner of the room. Before retreating to receive some warm food, you had been working to repair a small trinket in your collection. As a jeweler it was your duty to inspect each piece of your trade to make sure only the finest quality made its way to lords and ladies willing to spend coin at the tourney.

While the tools laid abandoned upstairs, the fine emerald ring laid perfectly on your finger. The silver band glistened thickly in the candlelight as you admired the craftsmanship and the resetting of the stone now nestled safely in the band. The stone had come loose a few times, but you had managed to reset it to make it truly a beautiful piece.

Your stomach had rumbled reminding you that you had spent far too long working.

The nice piece of meat and freshly cooked potatoes seasoned with garlic and thyme made happiness sing on your face. It was quite late so you were truly excited to see it was only you and the barkeep awake. You were certain the older woman was the owner of the inn as well.

She had been very kind to give you the last room this late in the evening.

You had told her your tale of woe. Your family had deemed you well crafted enough to venture off to represent the family alone at the tourney. Your father would normally travel with you, however he had taken ill in the past few weeks never truly recovering enough to travel. Your mother needed to stay by his side to nurse him back to health.

Being the only child of your family it was your duty to represent. You had joined a group of merchants from your village and neighboring communities to venture forward. The journey shouldn’t have been too long.

Perhaps only a few days, however a great storm had broken through the clouds in the early afternoon leaving the winds and slanted rain a troubling sight for your old mare. Betsy was a sturdy girl, but was no match for the stubborn storm or the lightning for that matter. It was best not to push her. It had resulted in you being separated from your group and ending up here for the evening.

The wind howled louder breaking you from your thoughts. The door smacked open against the wooden walls of the inn from the power of the rains outside. Two hooded figures entered. The taller one pushed the door closed while the other made their way confidently over to the inn’s owner who was eating a small plate of bread and cheese.

You could tell by the voice that there was an air of entitlement to the tone of the male voice who no doubt was inquiring for a room. You smile to yourself as you hear the raised voice wondering why there is no room for him and his companion. You know of men of his type, feeling as if the world owed them something simply for being a man.

The whispers became more hushed.

You look up to see the hooded figure at the counter is looking your way as the woman behind the counter casually points to you. The taller figure seems to be looking down waiting for conversation to end. You can see his long silver hair clings to his neck under his hood.

A set of violet eyes peak in your direction with a smile so charming you wonder if you will actually give your room to them should they approach.

They most certainly approach you.

“Greeting, my dear.” His voice is oozing with confidence. You spear a potato before deciding it should be cut into a smaller piece. “Pardon us for interrupting your meal, but we are quite weary from travel, my brother and I.” Said brother is behind him, peering curiously to you. You can tell from his sharp features that under that hood lies a dashing young gentleman. “The inn keep has told me you have taken the last room here. And it appears you are the only one still awake at this late hour.”

At that thunder rattles shaking the building and the dinnerware. You hold your plate as if it should fall. This makes the man in front of you smile, endeared at your caution.

“I was wondering if you would be so kind as to share your room for the night.”

You look between them.

Their hoods are no longer clinging to their heads.

You can see them.

Violet eyes.

Silver hair.

A charming smile from one.

A solemn serious expression of the other.

These are the Targaryen princes.

You have, of course, never met them, but the girls in your village whisper of them as girls do with princes. Aegon is the charming one who is sought after by many ladies. Aemond is the quieter, more serious sort of prince who trains and studies by way of sword and pen. Of course, both have been described as handsome young men worthy of swooning.

They are standing before you asking for you to share your room.

Your single bedroom.

“We can pay you triple what you paid.” He tells you already retrieving a large sack of coin from under his cloak.

“There is only one bed in the room, mi’lord.” You say sounding quite innocent.

“We can all share.” He says sounding a bit as though he expects you to do more then simply share your bed.

“We will sleep on the floor, my lady.” It is the first time you hear the taller one, Prince Aemond, you suspect based on the description your village friends have given, speak. His voice almost sounds gruff as if he is privy to choosing his words carefully.

“We will do no such thing.” Aegon argues brushing his brother’s thought aside. “We will be well behaved unless the lady hopes otherwise.” The hood falls then revealing how truly handsome Prince Aegon is. His smile makes your heart curl in your throat. You can not help yourself. You shove a potato in your mouth to stop your smile and perhaps halt your blush.

“We will sleep on the floor.” Aemond looks sharply at his brother.

“You can sleep on the floor, brother. I would be honored to share a bed with the prettiest girl in the inn.” You blush at the elder prince’s flattery.

“I do not mind sharing.” What are you saying?! You are not betrothed. You have never in your life shared a bed with a young man, let alone two! Let alone TWO TARGARYEN PRINCES!!! “If it is your wish . . .” You wait to whisper the next words. “My princes.”

They are not surprised you recognize them.

“See, Aemond, she is generous. And ready to serve the crown.” Aegon winks at this. You look down at your food. “Let us celebrate our new accommodations. Barkeep! A round of ale for us and our new lady companion!” He waves to the inn owner. You can see she struggles to be polite.

It is quite late.

***

You find yourself a bit tipsy after two ales.

It is a pleasant buzz, but you are used to enjoying some libations with a meal. The brothers ordered a platter of cheese, fruit, and bread to pick at as they enjoyed your company while you finished your dinner.

Aegon discussed the entire journey that their mother had insisted they travel on to see the kingdom. You learn it is Aegon’s name day that will be celebrated in a few short days. You barely get a word in to explain who you are. It is no matter to Prince Aegon who continues to compliment your beauty and how soft your lips look.

You manage to mention that you are also journeying to King’s Landing, but that is all. Aegon seems excited by the prospect of spending more time with you touching your arm softly. You note that he watches your face to make sure you are enjoying his little touches. He must clearly see you are because he spends most of the latter part of the meal tracing your knuckles softly.

Aemond looks down most of the evening eating small pieces of fruit. You note how he likes to take small bites and savor the flavors of each piece of food he enjoys. Aegon merely shoves food in his mouth without a thought. Upon hearing you are traveling to King’s Landing the younger prince perks up. You catch his one eye noting for the first time the leather eye patch there on the other eye.

That eye is curious. Perhaps always curious.

He watches you as you twist the ring on your finger nervously.

As you make your way up to your room, Aemond saddles up beside you.

“Are you married, my lady?” It is a question you had not imagined to be asked. “Your ring.” He motions toward the silver band.

“Oh.” You can not help but laugh. Immediately you cover your mouth. “Apologies, mi’lord. It is not a wedding band or even a symbol of betrothal. I am a jeweler. I was re-setting the stone earlier in the evening. I like to wear what I make as a symbol of pride.”

The explanation seems to both excite and be a relief to the prince.

“It is a stunning piece. You are a master craftsmen.” He admires it as you approach the door. Aegon seems to wander down the hall, having enjoyed too much drink. “Excuse me, sweet one.” Aemond moves to fetch his brother who begins to loudly bang on an occupied room.

You can not help, but giggle at the interaction.

You unlock the door to your own room.

It is a bit larger than typical accommodations. It appeared that the room was left unoccupied due to the sturdier price. The innkeep had taken pity on you, a young woman separated from your group with a gray mare who shivered and shook in the thunderstorm. She had offered you the room at half cost, though you did not tell the princes that as they paid you triple for the base price of the room.

The bed you now realizes is large enough for the three of them. You would have neither of the princes sleep on the floor, no matter how you felt about the accommodation. You realize your tools are a bit strewn about on the desk noticing the shavings of metal and small bent tools. You quickly tidy up as the princes enter with their baggages.

You see out of the corner of your eye Aegon immediately begin to disrobe.

Aemond scolds him quietly before blocking his brother from your view.

“Oh come now, brother. Surely the young miss would love to take a gander on Targaryen beauty.” You can practically hear the wink he gives though Aemond is still shielding you.

“I apologize for my brother,” Aemond says assisting his brother in removing his clothes as the young man struggles to fit his under shirt over his head. “He has had too much drink.”

“I have not!” Aegon insists. “I can still get it up. I assure you.” He hiccups.

You snort a laugh. Aemond looks to you as you return your tools to your bags.

“Are you to sell your wares at the tourney?” Aemond’s voice is curious.

Aegon flops face first into the bed. He begins to burrow under the covers as if some mole or other underground creature.

“I am. I have several. I can also make custom jewelry for any lords and ladies who enjoy my offerings.” You open a small case that displays the rings you have created. You cushion the emerald ring back in the case.

You can feel Aemond’s breath at your neck as you press your fingers against the velvet dark blue cushion that houses each unique ring. Aemond runs his finger over a bright large sapphire set in a gold band. It is one of your favorites as it appears that a dragon’s teeth are about to swallow the sapphire. You have fashioned a few rings for the celebration to represent various houses. Many represent House Targaryen with dragon motifs.

“I should like to buy this one. If the lady is willing to depart from it?” His eye blinks at you.

“Oh, I would be honored, my prince.” You remove it from the casing to retrieve a small velvet pouch your mother had sewn for clients. You offer him the ring for free, but Aemond insists on paying double for it. You try to stay his hand.

“You should be paid for your materials and time. I see you take great care in your work. I would be most honored to wear this at the tourney and talk up your finery to the lords and ladies at court.”

You smile thinking him the kinder of the two brothers. You thank him for his generosity before awkwardly deciding to disrobe yourself. The pair of you look away as your clothes are removed. You begin to undo your corset letting your mind wander to the bed. It had been soft when you settled in it earlier that evening. The innkeep had said she had just purchased a new mattress and new silk white sheets with gold threading. Aegon is face down in them asleep so they appear to be fit for a prince. You are in your white slip before removing it so you are bare.

You clearly see Aegon peeking at you from his awake position though he quickly closes his eye when you catch him. You smile not minding the attention. Nobody in your village has paid this kind of attention to you before so the attention is almost a welcome. You pull a white night gown over your head settling it against your bare breasts.

You turn to the bed but catch a glimpse of Prince Aemond.

He is VERY well toned. Of course he is, being the prince who trains with the sword. He wears soft trousers to cover his lower half, though they hang low on his hips. His eye quickly casts downward as he gazes on you.

He seems to be pleased with your night time appearance as well.

“I will be in the middle. Hopefully this will stay my brother’s wandering hands from you.” Aemond states, eye still set to the floor.

You can only nod. If you spoke you may something crude, such as you not minding should any hands wander over your body in the middle of the night.

While no man has ever touched you in such a way it does not mean you are not without want.

When both princes are in bed and under the covers, you decide it is your turn. You pull them back to reveal the soft mattress below. You settle hearing the rain beginning to pound louder outside. You shiver tucking yourself in. The heat of the younger dragon prince feels welcoming as you snuggle beside him turning yourself to face away from him.

The bed looked larger when you had been looking down at it, but now it felt small. Prince Aemond turned a bit trying to get comfortable settling to curl forward against your back. You could feel small steady breaths against your neck, hot with nervous energy.

“Is this alright? I can move, but your body is . . . quite warm. Hmmm . . .” His fingers graze your hip in a moment before pulling away.

“Yes, you are fine this way.”

It is the last thing you say before closing your eyes.

You fade in and out of sleep occasionally being awakened by the storm. The thunder is loud enough to make you whimper. As you awaken with a start you are not sure if it is the thunder that startles you or the hardness against your bum. On instinct you move against it cause it to stir with movement. You hear the prince groan low.

“I . . .apologize.” He says clearly embarrassed by his member, long and needy of attention. “I . . .” His fingers are brushing at your hip again, this time a bit more with intent.

“It is flattering.” You decide to say after a moment in thought. “I do not mind it.” At this you feel Aemond’s hand dip lower to the soft flesh of your thigh.

You whimper a bit too loud.

It causes his breath to quicken. You hear him swallow hard.

You decide to turn to face him. He lets go of your thigh immediately at your movement. You see him now. His eye is moving rapidly looking to you with a sweet desire. Your eyes focus over to the sapphire, large and round in his scarred eye socket. He leans forward halfway with his lips, testing the waters.

You will not let Prince Aemond suffer any longer.

You meet him halfway for the kiss.

You do not expect Prince Aemond to be inexperienced with kissing, but he is. His movements are needy and a bit rough. You have had some stolen kisses with stable boys that you feel as if you can judge a good kiss from a bad kiss. His kiss is not bad, but it is sloppy and fast. You slow him down by softly petting his cheek. After a moment or two you fall into a rhythm that is pleasant for you both with slips of your tongue against his. The wet sound echoes in your chamber as you feel your lower half begin to stir with need and wetness.

Your hips hump against his hardness in the dark room as the storm rages around you. He moans against your kisses especially when your clothed sex rubs against the tented tip of his cock.

“You are behaving quite unfairly, Aemond.” The younger brother nearly breaks upon hearing Aegon’s light scolding. You manage to hold his chin to your lips to steal his attention away from the other prince. “I am the elder brother. I should have her first.”

You can feel Aegon watching as you and Aemond continue to lose yourself in sloppy kissing. You open your eyes to make contact with Aegon. He slips his hand below the sheets. You watch as it moves slightly. His eyes flutter momentarily in pleasure as he touches himself.

“I can share myself.” You do not know where your boldness comes from. It may be the storm threatening to swallow this inn whole or the idea you will never get an opportunity like this ever again. Aemond is kissing your neck as you speak too focused on his pleasure to note you are offering yourself to Aegon as well. “Come here, my prince.”

There is no hesitation as Aegon kneels. You can see now he sleeps nude, a tuff of curled silver hairs grace the base of his girthy cock. He crawls over his brother as the pair of you shift to make room for the elder prince behind you. He grabs your hips settling his hands in a comfortable position. He kisses the back of your neck moving your hair as he focuses on your spine with little slips of his tongue.

You can feel, he too is hard.

The pair of lips on you sparks you with a divine energy that makes you feel like you could be finished on these sensations alone.

“Oh, you are a loud one. You like what we are doing to you, sweet girl?” Aegon nips behind your ear in a pleased whisper.

Aemond has made his way down between your breasts, lips leaving a soft wet trail. His fingers toy with the ties there. He looks up at you. His eye is nearly pleading with you. There is only a slight movement of your head up and down. He loosens those ties without an ounce of hesitation.

“Yes . . .” It is a soft sort of agreement. Aemond licks and suckles at the side of one of your breasts. “Gods, yes!” The sensation is so good it leaves you panting. Aegon laughs at your enthusiasm.

“Well, let’s see how pleased you are.” His palm glides up your leg pulling up your night gown. He palms at your small clothes moaning at the wetness gathered there. “Oh, my dear, you are wetter than the storm outside.” He bites your neck softly. “So ready for our princely cocks. You would like that wouldn’t you? To have our cocks all nestled safe inside your tight pussy.”

The pleasure is nearly too much. You have lost all grasp on the common tongue too entrapped in the movement of their royal tongues. You feel long slender fingers massaging against your breast. Aemond releases your breast from the confines of your top, his tongue laps at the rosen perked nipple teasing it between his lips. Aegon’s hands squeeze your hip while the other slips underneath your small clothes.

You gasp as a finger slips inside you.

“So very tight.” The prince nuzzles his lips to your jawline. “Are you a sweet little virgin, dear?” You can barely think to answer.

“I . . . yes. Please.” You do not know if you are begging for more or less of them.

“Yes? No wonder this little cunt is so tight. Let me help.” He pumps a second finger inside you which causes you to gasp in a little more painful way. The fingers drag inside you slowly.

Aemond nearly growls in response.

“Relax, brother. She is enjoying it. Aren’t you?” Aegon is now peppering you with kisses as he pumps his fingers inside you.

“It hurts. A bit.” The pain is slowly subsiding as you grow used to a foreign set of fingers inside you. He curled both in unison and it makes your mind go white. You cry out loud over the thunder feeling so close to your peak.

“Oh you want to release now, don’t you?” Slowly Aegon withdraws his fingers. “Not quite yet.” He smacks your thigh lovingly as Aemond continues to massage and play his tongue along your breasts. “My brother has only ever been with one woman. An older whore from the streets of silk. Certainly no virgin.” You feel Aemond moan into your other breast releasing it too. He lavishes sweet kisses upon the flesh before swirling his tongue around the perked nipple. “My brother should feel a virgin cunt shouldn’t he? Would you like my brother to take your maidenhead, sweet girl?”

You would like that.

There is nothing more you would like then to feel what both cocks would feel like inside you.

Aemond could have his turn.

You nod your head.

From Aegon’s cackle you know you are too eager to get fucked.

“Oh you are a bit naughty, aren’t you? You hear that brother? This little virgin would like you to take her maidenhead.” He ruffles with the curtain of his brother’s long silver hair which has fanned forward.

You feel Aemond groan against your nipple tucked between his lips. Wetness and whimpers escape you. Aemond focuses his eye upward before pulling away slowly.

“Would you like that, my lady?” His hands pet the sides of your breasts as you lay on your side. “Hmmm?”

“Please.”

You want it so badly

You NEED it so badly.

The brothers assist in adjusting you so you are laid flat on your back. Aegon lays on his side, head propped on his open palm watching. He moves your hair aside so he can see your pretty face while his brother fucks you. Aemond is above you hovering. He parts your legs slowly beginning to remove your small clothes. The sensation of your pussy hitting the cool air makes you gasp a bit as the wetness makes your sensitive area feel cool. Aemond’s fingers run over your folds in a loving gesture. His eye watches you as he sinks his digit into you. Your chest heaves as a sigh escape.

There is a playful smile on the Targaryen’s lips as he pumps and curls his finger inside you.

Your back arches as you are drawn closer again. Your small hans grasp at the sheets.

“Oh for Gods’ sake, Aemond. Get that cock inside her. You’re hard aren’t you?” Aegon complains with a roll of his eyes.

You can see Aemond is uneasy. Your hand goes to his cheek as he withdraws his finger from inside you. You smile trying to let him know you want this and it is alright. He smiles in return and bends forward. As his chest crushes to your body you can feel his lips against yours, but also his long cock pressing hard to your thigh.

He slowly a lines his cock to brush against your slit. You can feel the bulbous head at your entrance.

“Be slow. She’s very tight.” Aegon warns. He plays with your hair as Aemond lifts from the kiss. “The tightness will make you want to fuck her hard, but stay yourself. You want to make her first time feel good, make her peak. Ease into her slowly. Do not finish too quickly despite how well her pussy squeezes you.”

Slowly you feel Aemond push into you, a little at a time.

You groan so loudly at the initial stretch.

“That’s it.” Aegon is rubbing your shoulder gently.

Aemond pushes inside a bit more slowly stretching your inner walls. You bite your lip. That detail seems to make the prince’s cock twitch inside you. Your walls flutter. Aemond curses and seems to falter, slipping in a bit further.

“Hold it. I know she is a pretty one, but contain yourself, brother.”

“She’s so tight, Aegon. I do not think I can hold much longer.” You feel your eyes are screwed shut trying to concentrate on the pleasant feelings and holding your own composure.

“She’s pretty. Doesn’t she deserve a good first fuck?” You feel Aegon’s lips against your forehead. “I think you deserve this sweet virgin cunt. Be easy. Be good to her and that pussy will be good to you. She will remember your cock first before all others. She will compare you to everyone after including myself. Perhaps even on her wedding night she will think, ‘Is my lord husband’s cock as good as Aemond One-Eyed?’ ”

Aemond continues to ease in slowly stretching you. He drags along your walls a little out then more in. Before long you feel him fully inside you. He is nearly panting from the effort as you feel his hot breath fan across your face. Finally you open your eyes. His one eye is closed as his brow is furrowed in concentration. Aegon continues to brush your hair away from your face and press his fingers to your shoulders.

“Aemond, my prince,” You call to him as he opens his eye slowly. “Please.” Your hips move slightly. He lets out a long breath.

He is breathing so hot now.

His body and breath are heavy.

He begins to move slowly in and out.

“See? Listen to her! She loves it. You love my brother’s cock, don’t you, sweet girl?” Aegon says with a smile and a kiss to your forehead.

You did not realize how loud you were being at this slow pace. The sensation of feeling the prince’s cock moving inside you makes sounds you never knew you could make leave your mouth. It encourages Aemond to move quicker inside you. The stretch begins to hurt as he moves faster, but the pleasure blinds out the pain. Your hands are to his lower back pressing his hips forward.

You call out the prince’s name over and over again. The frame of the bed begins to shake as the thunder and lightning crash outside through the pounding of rain. Inside the prince is pounding you making you close to your peak. You cry out feeling your body unravel.

“Pull out of her. Release your seed on her, not inside. Wouldn’t want any bastards.”

You barely register Aegon’s voice as several waves of pleasure roll over you.

“Oh look at her!” Aegon calls out delighted. “She is peaking multiple times! Job well done, brother.”

You feel Aemond’s seed warm on your thigh as he whimpers his own peak on your flesh. You are catching your breath feeling hoarse and raw in the throat. Your walls flutter slowly as the sweat beads across your breasts. You feel Aegon kiss your forehead.

“Such a good girl. I can not wait to rut inside you.” His curved lips feel encouraging against your skin. Your chest puffs in and out as you slowly open your eyes. “Aemond, let’s clean her. There is a wash bin and cloth on the desk. Don’t worry, love. We’ll take care of you before I have my turn. Make sure you are well prepared to take me.” You see him wink.

You see Aemond run his hand over your thigh not coated in his spend. He traces the flesh there with reverence as if soaking in the memory of feeling you. His hand lazily travels to the dips of your hips. You feel tender there and wince.

“Did I hurt you?” You look down to see he is tracing over a small bruise, yellowed at the edges. It is in the shape of a thumb.

“It does not hurt. Only a bit sore.”

He nods. His lips bend down to kiss the spot. You sigh happily at the loving gesture. Aegon groans impatiently, a signal for Aemond to stand. He kisses the bruise one more time before standing. You watch his backside move across the room only lit by the flickering of lightning outside.

“We have not had the same woman before. Aemond and I. I must say it has been quite an enjoyable experience so far. You are such a lovely little plaything for us.” Aegon shifts to move a pillow to his lap. He places your head there. “Comfortable?” You swallow and nodd. “Did my brother fuck you well?” His thumb roams over your lower lip.

“He did.” You feel a wetness against where the drying spend rests.

The soft rag glides across your sweat soaked skin. The water is lukewarm and pleasant.

“I feel very well cared for. Thank you, my princes.” You look between them, up at Aegon who sweetly plays with your hair and forward at Aemond who washes and dries your body clean. There is a lovely little smirk of satisfaction on his face.

“Tell me, Aemond. How is her cunt?” Aegon asks with a sparkle of curiosity.

“It was . . . good.” There is a blush that creeps across his cheeks, shame or embarrassment bright on his features.

“Just good? Come now. It is just us. Tell me. Was she tight? Did she milk your cock? What do I have to look forward to?” The elder prince nearly laughs with anticipation.

“I . . .” He seems to struggle to find the right words. He looks into your eyes. There is still desire there. “I should like to have her again. She felt . . .divine.” His fingers tease your slit making you whimper. “Let me make her wet for you.”

Without hesitation Aemond tossed the rag to the floor with a wet slap. He kneels, spreading your legs apart to get better access to what is between them. He bends his head to kiss your inner thigh before kissing sweetly along your slit. A small gasp erupts from your lips. The brothers laugh playfully at your reaction. Where he was sloppy with kisses on your lips, Aemond’s wet puckered kisses leave you nearly breathless here.

“Get her nice and wet for me.” Aegon pets your head as Aemond kisses your cunt, dragging his tongue inside you. “Don’t take too long. I am eager to have her.”

He curves his tongue as he did his fingers. The sensation makes you cry out with pleased whimpers, high and needy. You can not help yourself as you run your fingers through the Targaryen prince’s long silver mane. You try to steady your breathing so you do not sound as desperate as you feel, but it is too late. Your needy little moans of desire hit high making you wet for the prince’s cock.

“That is enough. She is plenty wet.” Aegon shifts to remove your head from his lap.

You call out for Aemond as his tongue flickers over your sensitive bud.

Aegon grunts pushing at his brother’s shoulder. Aemond lifts his head as if a hound hungrily defending his food. Aegon is the alpha in this situation. He relents to his brother moving to place your head and thr pillow in his lap. Aegon is above you with a toothy grin. His thumb runs along your plump lower lip.

“Such a needy little thing. Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll pleasure you even better than my brother.”

Prince Aegon captures your lips savoring each little kiss and whimper. Slowly you feel his cock enter you. There is a small sigh that escapes your lips as you feel his girth, thicker then Prince Aemond. He stretches you more.

“By the Gods,” His eyes flutter closed. “You have such a tight cunt. Fuck.” He chuckles pushing deeper. You feel Aemond’s hand stroke your throat as a stretch of pain washes over you as Aegon’s cock stretches you deeper.

“It is alright. You are doing wonderful, here.” Aemond’s hand reaches to fondle with your exposed breasts. His thumb and index finger tweak your hardened nipples. It leaves you with a bit of a distraction. “Better?”

“Mmmmm. . .” Is your only response.

“Good.” Aemond says as he plays with each of your tits equally.

“There we are.” Aegon bottoms out inside her. “So bloody tight.”

He begins to move not requiring much effort to sate himself. He pushes his thumb to the bruise on your hip. You know it was not Aemond who made it, but Aegon. He is a bit rougher than his brother. You cry out a bit in pain as he gives no care to being gentle now that you have been taken kindly for your first time. He lifts your leg higher prompting him to bury his cock deeper inside you giving you deep strokes.

“You are hurting her.” Aemond says through gritted teeth.

“I am doing no such thing. She is enjoying a good pounding by her prince. Aren’t you now?” His own words prompt him to go faster. He grazes a spot inside you, but quickly pulls away before truly hitting it.

Your lips quiver. Aegon jackhammers into you panting like a rabid animal. His throat releases harsh noises. You try to bring his face down to kiss you, but he is hesitant. He appears not used to kisses while he is fucking. Maybe the whores in King’s Landing are not allowed to kiss the prince. He eventually relents kissing you, which slows his pace though removes Aemond’s hands from your tits.

“You are so sweet tasting.” He breaths in small pants between kisses. “You know that, sweet girl? Like honeyed wine and fall spices.” He nuzzles your neck as he pumps inside you in an easy rhythm. “Mmmm . . . so sweet.”

You feel his cock twitch within you indicating he is close to spilling his seed. However you do not feel your peak approaching. Everytime you are about to reach a desirable peak or spot inside you he seems to deviate to his own pleasure. He lifts from your neck and face, a hand on either side of you as he snaps his hips wildly cursing. Aemond reaches downward to your sex.

“What are you -?”

“It will feel better if she peaks.” Aemond’s finger moves to tease the small bud in your folds. “This is her bud. The madame showed me. Stroking her here,” You make a noise that is a mix of a sigh and a moan. “Is as if you were teasing the tip of your cock. It’s sensitive. Pleasureable.” Aegon moves his thumb over the bud. He presses too hard causing you pain. “No, stroke. Gentle. Yes. Listen to her.” Aegon alters the movement stroking you gently before licking his thumb and slipping it over your bud.

Your voice groans at the sensation. Even the pounding of his hips does not dissuade you from the pleasure you receive from the stroking of your bud. You whimper as he gasps.

“Fuckin’ vice on my cock! Gods!” He cries out.

Aegon waits until the final moment to pull his cock free. He ignores your bud for the moment to spill himself on the sheets. Aemond replaces his brother’s thumb stroking you until your walls flutter leaking your arousal on his fingers. He brings them to his mouth tasting you.

“Hmmmm . . .” Aemond hums against his fingers.

The elder prince pants before turning those pants into laughter. He is knelt on the bed holding his softened cock in his hand. His brother is licking his fingers of your arousal as you are laid out satisfied.

“No regrets on your part I see.” Aegon chuckles. “But . . .” He looks between you and Aemond. “It would be a grand thing if we could get both of our cocks inside your holes.” Aegon reaches to rub his thumb along your lower lip again. You kiss it softly. “Here.” His other hand strokes your center, remembering exactly where that bud is. “And here.”

“Aegon . . .” Aemond says it as if a warning.

“I would like that.” You say looking at Aemond first. His eye is wide. “I am not tired. I want to feel more.” You palm at Aemond’s thigh. Your fingers tease the side of his cock.

You know you will remember this moment for the rest of your days. Someday you will be wed. Someday you will have babes at your breast instead of needy princes. You want to take as much pleasure from them as they do from you, savor the passion of this moment even as the wind howls and the storm rages.

You kiss the tip of Aemond’s cock. He hisses, though the sound is not unpleasant. Aegon moves to sit on the other side of your face. You feel the tip of his cock trace your neck. Your tongue swirls around Aemond’s tip on instinct . He guides your mouth further down on his cock while instructing you to take what you can not fit in your hand and stroke it. You do as instructed, feeling him graze your cheek as his cock grows larger inside your mouth.

“How is her mouth?” Aegon is nearly humming with excitement beside you.

“Exquisite.” Aemond says maintaining his composure.

Your tongue flickers at the underside of his cock as you take him further into your mouth. He is gentle with his instructions, kind when telling you what he desires from you. He tells you to hollow your cheeks. When you do he moans much louder then he did when he was fucking you. You are glad you can give him pleasure simply with your mouth and tongue.

“Let him fill your mouth then I will as well.” Aegon teases in your ear.

You feel a little uneasy at the thought. You can taste salty remnants of Aemond against your tongue. Aemond seems to see how uneasy you have grown. He pulls you from his cock with a pop. His thumb runs across your bottom lip gathering his essence to rub it further into your mouth. You suckle his thumb looking into his eye.

“Hmmm.” He looks to you slowly blinking. “I think you want my cock inside your cunt again. Don’t you, sweet one?” You swallow whatever salty essence he has released in your mouth, not much but enough to know what he tastes like, an aftertaste of sweet fruit.

You hum approval.

“Alright, fuck her cunt. I’ll take that mouth of hers. It sounds as if it is better than her cunt by how pleased you seemed, brother.” You feel Aegon pull your mouth toward him.

Without hesitation he pries your mouth open.

“Careful.” Aemond is hissing again. “Be gentle with her.”

“What if she wants a bit of roughness?” You feel Aegon pump two fingers into your mouth. You suckle tasting bits of cheese under his nails. The corners of your mouth seep drool. “Oh good girl. She’s drooling over the thought of sucking my cock. Let me hear it from your mouth then, sweet girl. What do you desire?”

You have never been asked such a question in your life.

The thunder crackles shaking the room. You are looking into one prince’s eyes before looking into the eye of the other prince.

What is it you desire?

You were practically forced into your current line of work. A family trade is tradition and should be treated as such. You love your work now, but were never given the opportunity to try anything else.

You will not have a say in your husband.

You will not have a say in your friends.

Your free time has never been your own.

Yet here, in the darkness of night, in a storm that rages outside you are asked such a question from the least likely of people.

“The crown demands to know your true desires.” Aegon seems sweeter now removing his fingers from your lips. The wet fingers stroke from your temple to your cheek catching some of your sweat stained hair.

In the storm you awaken your true desires.

“I want to be touched. Worshipped. I want to feel you both inside me. It does not matter where, but yes, I should think a gentle embrace is what I would like most.” Your eyes flutter with a mixture of innocence and pure lust.

“Well then, I will remain gentle. But I may lose control. Tap my leg thrice if my cock is too rough, my lady. I do not wish you pain, only pleasure. For tonight you are the one we shall worship.” He bends down, giving you a sweet kiss on the temple.

Aemond slowly begins to remove your night dress so you are bare before the two princes. It does not feel like exposure, but instead it feels as though you have truly given yourself to the moment, to this place in time, to your lovers. In that moment the prince titles fade from your mind.

All three of you only want to make each other feel good.

“You are so soft.” Aemond says.

His lips are trailing down your body, between the valley of your breasts, at your soft belly, and then to your thighs. You can feel how soft you are in each spot as he travels. Aegon slowly rubs his fingers over your lips letting you kiss him before his cock, hard and ready rubs across your lips too. You open your mouth taking the thick cock.

As you suck on Aegon’s cock, Aemond slowly inserts himself inside your cunt.

“By the Gods, your mouth . . .” He groans almost as loud as his brother did.

You are glad you are making him feel this way. Each brother has a hand on one of your tits. Slowly their rhythms seem to match thrusting into each of your wet holes in unison. You tap Aegon’s leg thrice when you find it difficult to breath. He does seem to care about your comfort as does Aemond who has gently folded your thighs upward as he strokes his cock inside you.

The gentleness of it all makes time seem never ending.

It is fine by you. You are feeling elated in this moment.

Enjoying yourself perhaps too much.

“I am close.”

“As am I.”

“Are you close, darling?”

You do not know who’s voice is who’s in that moment. You simply hum around Aegon’s cock before he can pull out.

“I want to fuck your mouth a little rougher. Would that be alright with you?” Aegon blinks softly.

It is hard to deny him, but also you feel your pussy twitch at the suggestion. You nod.

“Mmmm. . . her cunt twitched at the suggestion. She’s so fuckin’ close.” You hear in Aemond’s voice he is ready to spill himself.

You wonder if both of them will spill inside you.

Hands fit against the back of your head as Aegon gently guides your mouth over his cock. Your jaw is beginning to hurt from holding open for so long, but you want to feel good as well. A small price to pay, you suppose. Aegon’s cock begins to go deeper inside your mouth before thrusting faster. You feel spittle gather at the corners as you hear your hollow chokes begin. Those sounds seem to spurn Aemond on.

His thrusts are deeper as well inside your cunt, which is well stretched at this point. He is muttering curses as his fingernails make half moons on your thighs. All you hear is the men’s moans as they reach their peak as you choke and gasp around Aegon’s cock.

“Swallow all of it.” You feel it hit the back of your throat. You choke and slurp it back into your mouth. He is saltier then Aemond and there is much of his spend. You lick your lips when Aegon pulls from your mouth.

Aemond pounds viciously into you.

Your pussy twitches as you feel your eyes go white for a moment in your peak.

He is growing soft inside you collapsed.

“Naughty Aemond.” Aegon scolds. “Spilled his seed inside. Don’t worry. We can prepare some moon tea in the morning. Make sure no bastards grow in this cute little belly.” Aegon leans down and kisses your stomach.

Aemond rolls to his back panting.

“You enjoy her, brother? Tight cunt is much better then the cunt of an old whore.” Aegon nearly laughs. “And you my dear, how was your first time? Hmmm . . . you feel thoroughly worshipped by your princes?”

“Yes. I do.” You are nearly panting as well.

You will be sore in the morning, but the pleasure was worth every ache and pain.

“Perhaps when you are in King’s Landing we’ll have you again. It is my name day after all.” Aegon lays beside you his hands under his head watching you breath and your eyes lazily begin to close before opening to look at him. “We wore you out. Didn’t we?” He runs his hand over your lips once more.

“Yes, my prince.”

It is then you turn to Aemond. He is looking at you in a similar position to Aegon, but on your other side. He reaches forward to kiss your lips, moaning against them. He presses himself to you. On instinct you wrap your arms around him to cuddle him and stroke his hair. It is in this moment when he is nestled between your breasts and suckling comfortably at your skin you think this is typical for him after sex. Aegon hugs your waist from behind.

“Such a beautiful night.” Aegon mumbles into your hair. “Such a strange and beautiful stormy night.”

One the three of you will never forget.

#vbbships #aegon x reader x aemond #aegon x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aegon smut

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sirowsky-stories · 2 months ago

Text

Hello! Here I am, yet again posting a themed fic at the wrong time! I'm trying okay, but shit keeps getting in the way...

Description: The day before Valentine's, you and Pero are sent on a mission to repair a broken machine at the sister factory to the one you work at. And of course, the hotel reservation gets screwed up, and obviously you end up having to stay much longer than expected.

Warnings: Pero Tovar x Female Reader (no descriptions of reader beyond being female), both main character's pov, Valentine's Day theme, forced proximity, only one bed, coworkers to friends, friends to dating, vague references to a planned SA but no descriptions whatsoever, protective!Pero.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Word Count: 11,572 Sirowsky's Masterlist All dividers by the amazing @saradika-graphics

“Is this a joke?” You’re too stunned to even be upset about it yet, because this is just too fucking rich.

“I’m afraid not,” your supervisor Gary apologetically shakes his head. “Look, if there was anyone else we could send, we would, but…”

“But what? There are two thousand people working here, so don’t tell me you don’t have anyone else to send,” you grumble, not really out of anger, that’s not part of your overall makeup, but more out of nervousness.

“I meant in the sense that you’re probably the only one who can put up with him for that long.”

“That doesn’t mean it would be easier on me. It just means I can tolerate feeling like shit better than most.”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a bad deal for you,” he sighs, and he does look like he feels genuinely bad about it, but he’s also not leaving any options open for you.

“And you’re still not gonna budge, are you?”

“We have to send someone…”

He gives you the details for the hotel and the keys to a company car, and you’re given one hour to go home and pack for at least a two-day stay in the neighbouring town. The factory where you work is relatively new, only about ten years old, but it’s been performing excellent from the start, which means a sister factory has been in construction for the past two years just a hundred-and-fifty miles to the east. It was officially launched six months ago, and there have been very few hiccups since.

But a couple of days ago, a complex overhead crane began to malfunction, and then completely broke down, and that’s the machine which you have quickly become a master at handling, despite only having been working here for a little over a year. And you’re happy to go and help the new factory back on its feet, that’s no problem at all, you’re only excited about the fact that the company is doing so well, since it means you’ll get to keep your job. Your issue with all this is that the only person who really knows how to mechanically repair this particular machine, is Pero Tovar.

He’s been working here since the mother factory was first built, and he was the one who hatched the idea to build the crane, and then both designed and built the damned thing, largely on his own. He’s a genius, for lack of a better word, but he’s also the most unfriendly person you’ve ever met. And now, you have to not only work with him on repairing the damaged one, but you also have to travel and live with him for as long as that takes.

Gary told you that he’d made reservations for you at the nearest hotel to the sister factory, but that they only had one room available, since it’ll be over Valentine’s Day, so you’re quite certain that no matter what happens, this is gonna be a horrible week.

It’s still only 7am when you arrive back at work with your small suitcase, locate the correct company car and throw your luggage in the trunk, but you don’t get in. You have no intention of angering your travel mate, so you’re not gonna assume anything in terms of whether he wants to drive or not. You lean against the side of the car with your arms crossed and your cap pulled low over your eyebrows, trying not to think about just how much this is gonna suck.

He arrives just a couple of minutes later, parking his own car and then walking over to you with brisk steps. You’ve never seen him dawdle, but he never seems rushed either. More like he just has his own pace through life which he keeps to no matter how fast or slow the world around him is moving. Like he’s perpetually unaffected by absolutely everything, which he probably is.

“You wanna drive, or should I?” you ask before he reaches the car, so you’ll have time to move out of his way if you need to.

But he doesn’t answer. He just walks up to the boot and throws his bag into it, shuts it, then heads for the passenger side. A bit surprised, you take the driver’s seat, but you’re sure as hell not gonna ask him why he doesn’t wanna drive. It just seems out of character, so far as you know him, because he’s always in control of everything around him. He’s the one person in the entire factory who has every license required to operate every piece of machinery or vehicle available, and he never seems the least bit unsure of what to do or when.

Still, he’s not a supervisor. He has the same rank as you, which seems ridiculous given the disparity of skills between you, but it does mean that technically he can’t order anyone to do anything. And you’ve never heard him try. People very nervously come to him with their problems or questions and for the most part, he just sighs and takes care of it, usually without a word but with a fair bit of growling. And if it's something simple enough that the person asking should be able to do it themselves, he’ll begrudgingly instruct, or show them, no doubt hoping they’ll never bother him again.

But for all his expertise, the only times he outright tells people what to do, is when they’re asking for help. Beyond that, even on the occasions when he overhears operators talking about a problem and he knows how to sort it out, he never says a word without being asked. And you’ve never been able to work out if it’s out of a deep respect for rules and procedure, if he just doesn’t give a shit, or if he secretly enjoys hearing them struggle with stuff that’s simple to him. He’s about as easy to read as a book with every page blacked out.

Which is one of the many reasons why you’re glad it isn’t a longer drive, since you wouldn’t dream of trying to start up a conversation with him. But even without asking, you know he doesn’t want to stop by the hotel and check in before going to the factory, so you head straight there. They’re expecting you, evident in how the gates swing open before you’ve even come to a full stop in front of them, so you roll your window down and wave to the security camera as you drive through.

Parking by the large Arrivals entry at the back, where all new materials are brought in, you step out and wait for someone to come and escort you inside. Since you’re not employed at this factory you can’t enter the factory floor without a yellow vest and a supervisor to take you to the area that you’ll be working in. Safety procedures are so precise that not even Tovar, who’s done this several times before, is allowed to step foot inside without an escort.

“Good morning,” a cheerful older woman greets you after just a minute. “I’m Hannah, supervisor of the assembly team.”

You notice that she only introduces herself to you, so she’s clearly met Tovar before. She’s carrying two vests and hands them to each of you, waiting until you’ve put them on fully before she invites you inside.

“How big of a failure are we talking about?” you ask as you follow her out of the morning sunlight and into the crisp white, fluorescent lighting, which seems so dark in comparison.

“Complete. My estimate is that we’re looking at both mechanical and hydraulic malfunction, and there also seems to be a problem with the software.”

“In that case we have to consider the possibility that the software is the root cause.”

“I wasn’t aware the crane could sabotage itself,” she ponders, turning a corner around a plastic processing machine before you reach the assembly section, which sits two floors lower down to make room for the giant overhead crane in question.

You still have to walk halfway through the rest of the factory to reach the control panel, but while you do, you get a good look at two sides of the machine. It has a scientific name, but all workers just call it MAP, short for the three processes it’s capable of performing simultaneously: moulding, assembling, and packaging.

“If the software fails to accept new commands, especially if they’re related to the assembly arms rather than the material deposits and moulds, then it can end up over-reaching or colliding with itself, which isn’t necessarily visible on the outside, since the turning radius is shorter than it appears to be.” You rattle off the explanation without pause, and she turns her head to the side to look at you while you continue to walk.

“You mean it can crash into itself without us noticing?”

“Unfortunately, yes. And when it happens because of a software problem, there’s no guarantee the system will be able to identify the collision and inform you about it, so then the only option it has is to default to its primary security mode and completely shut itself down. But we won’t know if that’s what’s happened until we’ve had a chance to look at the failure logs.”

You’re highly aware that Tovar is walking right behind you, and it makes you feel self-conscious in terms of your knowledge about the potential problem. He knows so much more than you, and yet here you are, talking about the machine that he developed as if you’re every bit as familiar with it as he is. You wouldn’t even blame him if he told you to shut up and leave it to him, because honestly, he’d be well within his rights to. But he doesn’t say a word.

Reaching the control panel, you find a whole group of operators waiting with tools of every kind, ready and possibly even eager to pitch in and start fixing stuff, but you merely nod at them and then the two of you set to work. They won’t be able to help with anything until you’ve identified what the actual problem is. Still with his mouth firmly shut, Tovar begins to dismantle a cover which protects a kind of black box, designed to record and store all malfunction log entries of the operating system for the entire machine, while you start tapping keys to assess how big of a problem you might be dealing with.

“Shit… The system’s completely crashed,” you relay your findings to your colleague. “We might be looking at a partial or even complete reconstruction.”

As always, without being asked a direct question, the grumpy Spaniard doesn’t reply, but you’re expecting that. You’re just trying to keep him informed. But when he manages to gain access to the box, what he finds is even worse than you’d imagined. The box contains servers, about a hundred of them, and there’s a small screen on one end where he can access specific logs by searching for dates and times. But when he activates the screen, it’s already displaying thousands of entries, all flashing red to indicate problems.

“We will need to look at the main servers,” he instructs, and the operators immediately spring into action to unscrew the access panel for the primary system.

It only takes them seconds, and then the core of the computer is revealed. There are about five hundred servers in there, each with its own little sequence of tiny lights on the front, to indicate where there might be problems. They can shine green, yellow, and red, but also flash in each colour and in a specific order to tell him what’s going on. But more than half of them have gone dark. Not shining red or flashing, but completely dark. Dead. Which means those servers have suffered such a catastrophic failure that they’ve burned through their circuits.

“That didn’t happen all at once, did it?” you guess, peering over Tovar’s shoulder after he kneels in front of the open panel to take a closer look.

“No. This started months ago and slowly built into a cascade. The entire computer must be replaced and the operating system re-uploaded and installed.”

You can’t quite hold back your heavy sigh of disapproval as you realize just how long this is gonna take. It was bad enough to be stuck here and living with the unfriendliest person in the world when it was just gonna be for a couple of days, but now it’s looking more like it’s gonna be a couple of weeks.

“Fuck…”

~~~ You don’t arrive at the hotel until almost 9.30 that evening, after trying to get as much of the dismantling as possible done, so you’ll be able to get started on the rebuild already tomorrow morning. And you’re so tired by the time you get to the room that you don’t even care about having to sleep in the same room as Tovar. All you want is just a shower and then as many hours of rest as you can possibly get. However, when you walk into the room and see a large double bed, instead of two separate ones, sleep suddenly seems very far away indeed.

“T-there were supposed to be two beds…” you nervously stutter, while racking your brain to try and remember exactly what Gary had said about the booking.

Did he say that they only had one room available, with double beds, or with a double bed? The more you think about it the more convinced you become that it was in fact the latter, and your pulse jumps to what seems like twice its normal pace. But your colleague doesn’t respond, nor does he look the slightest bit concerned about it.

“’I’m gonna go talk to the front desk clerk again,” you say while already heading for the door, grabbing a key card on your way out.

Pero sighs deeply after hearing the door close behind you. Nobody likes him, for good reason, so he isn’t surprised that you don’t want to share a bed with him, but it also offends him somewhat. It’s not like he’d ever do anything to you. He’s not a kind or sweet person, but he sure as shit isn’t an abuser either. He would never lay hands on a woman without permission, and he’d rather chew off his own arms than hit someone who couldn’t possibly defend themselves against him. There’s no victory to that kind of fight.

But of course, you can’t know how he thinks since he never shares any of his thoughts with anyone. Hence the sigh. The likelihood of another room being available is very low, though. Gary wouldn’t have booked this if there was any better alternative available within the company’s budget, so while he waits for you to return, he takes a quick shower and brushes his teeth.

You come back just as he leaves the bathroom, which is right next to the front door, so the two of you almost collide in the hallway. And if he isn’t mistaken, he catches a glimpse of you eyeing his naked upper body with what doesn’t appear to be disgust or disinterest. More like the opposite. It’s only there for a millisecond before you’ve schooled your expression and turned your entire face away, but he could swear there was a sliver of desire within you just then, and he’s quite surprised at how much that pleases him.

“Uh… wh-.. Hrm…” you try, but whatever you meant to say, it doesn’t seem to find its way out, so you simply pass him in the hall and head for your suitcase which is parked at the foot of the bed.

Since he’s done with his evening toilet, Pero ends up following you there, rounding the bed behind you and pulling the covers back on the right-hand side of it. He’s only wearing his boxer briefs and when he sits down, his back is to you, so he can’t see if you steal any more looks at him, but it does secretly bemuse him to imagine that you do.

“There weren’t any other rooms available,” you finally manage, just after he lays down and pulls the covers over himself. “They apparently have a Valetine’s Day special here every year, offering all kinds of romantic couples spa treatments and even a speed-dating event, all of which seem to be very popular.”

Your voice is small and nervous, as if you’re worried that he’ll scold you for speaking too loudly in his presence, which seems excessive. He’s never been cruel to you. At least, not by any of his own definitions of cruelty. He’s lying on his side with his back to you, so he can’t read your expression, but he wonders if you’re actually scared of him, because that’s what it sounds like. It’s quiet for a minute then, and all he hears is the zipper on your suitcase being opened and you grabbing some things before heading for the bathroom, so he assumes everything’s okay, and with the day you’ve had, he falls asleep not long after.

He wakes up to his alarm the following morning at 5:45am, and rolls out of bed on routine, heading for the bathroom. Rounding the foot of the bed, he notices that the covers on your side are already immaculately made up and when he looks up, he finds you sitting at the small table in the corner by the TV, dressed and ready, fiddling with your phone. Momentarily confused, he glances at his wristwatch, wondering if he set the alarm the wrong time or something. Because why would you get up earlier than you need to when you got in so late last night?

He would’ve slept another half-hour himself if not for the fact that you need to go to the hotel restaurant for breakfast since you didn’t have time yesterday to buy something you can eat in the room or on the way. Your head is bowed as you’re looking at the screen, but he can still see how tired you are, so clearly, you didn’t sleep nearly as soundly as he did, which seems to match with your nervousness last night.

And while he’s doing his morning toilet, he realizes that something about seeing you look so tortured really annoys him. Deep down, he knows why, but he doesn’t allow himself to go there. Returning to his bag on his side of the bed, he steals glances at you, trying to quell the stronger feelings that your presence keeps stirring up, but he can’t seem to gain control of himself, which leaves him sour and cranky. So, when he finally has cause to speak to you, it comes out with much more of a sting than he’d intended.

“Let’s get going.”

It sounds harsh and almost accusatory, which comes as a surprise to Pero himself, because you’ve been ready to go since before he woke up, so he has no right to hurry you on. Still, you don’t protest or challenge him, even though you absolutely should, and as he leads the way down the corridors to the elevator, he wonders if he truly has left such a horrid impression on you over this past year, that you genuinely do fear him.

You’re a happy person. He’s not good at interacting with people, but he’s excellent at reading them, and he’s been working closely with you since you first started, so he’s had plenty of opportunities to study you. And what he’s seen is a lot of humour and a generally positive attitude, even when things are tough. You’re the one who keeps everyone’s spirits up in the breakroom, coming up with little games and puzzles to keep your coworkers entertained and let them forget about the problems out on the factory floor.

But he hasn’t seen that side of you for even one minute since the two of you were sent on this repair mission, and the only reason he can see why that would be, is because you’re on your own with him. It’s not like the two of you haven’t been on your own in your sector of the factory before, but it’s different when you’re in an unfamiliar environment surrounded by people you’ve never met, and can’t even go home to your own bed at the end of the day.

Pero has never had more than temporary relationships with women, because he does know how unfriendly he is and why he behaves that way, which means that there’s a lot he doesn’t know or understand about the fairer sex. But what he does have extensive experience with, is seeing how the world treats you, and how powerless you often are to change your own circumstances or even keep yourselves safe.

He’s lost count of how many brawls he’s gotten himself into, and walked away from largely unscathed, simply by intervening whenever he’s witnessed men behaving badly towards women. He doesn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart, he’s not even sure his heart is good at all, but simply because it irks him. And he doesn’t expect or accept any thanks for it because he only does it to keep from losing his fucking mind with the urge to vomit all over those kinds of guys.

But now that he watches you hurriedly fill a plate from the breakfast buffet, ignoring all the things he knows you normally love to indulge in when you get the chance, like the Nutella croissants and raspberry yoghurt with fresh berries, he realizes that he’s the only one who’s being disrespectful towards you right now. He should apologize for barking at you, maybe compliment your cute red nail-polish with little white hearts, or perhaps express some concern over how tired and stressed you look.

Instead, he finishes filling his own plate and takes his seat opposite you, without a word spilling over his lips.

Work is slow and tedious, each new hard drive being installed takes about twenty minutes because each one has to be independently connected to the core system, in the correct sequence, before you can move on to the next. And on top of that, the hydraulics in all eight of the machine’s mechanical arms needs to be replaced, which is where most of your focus lies, while Tovar primarily works on the computer.

He’s better at it than you or anyone of the other operators, so it’s only logical, and you’re somewhat relieved to not be around him much today. You hadn’t been able to bring yourself to lay down next to him last night, so you’d spent the night on the floor instead, thankfully waking up early enough that you’d had time to make your side of the bed before he noticed. Not that you’re sure why he’d be bothered by that. He doesn’t give a shit about your comfort, so why would he care where you sleep?

Unfortunately, this means you haven’t gotten much sleep at all since the floor was hard and cold and you kept having to change positions to keep various body parts from going numb. But working on the mechanical arms means working with the sister factory operators, and they’re proving to be just as good fun as your regular coworkers, so while the day might have started out crabby, by lunchtime you’re feeling pretty good. Until you hear that Tovar has left the factory over lunch, taking the car into town to eat, without asking if you might wanna tag along.

You wouldn’t really have expected him to ask, that’s not his style, but he could’ve let you know that he was leaving to give you a chance to go with him and maybe buy some breakfast for tomorrow or just a damned Valentine’s gift for yourself. Today is the 14th after all, and since it was supposed to be a day off for you, you had a whole day planned back home.

Nothing fancy, just a nice solo dinner and dessert, a spa bath and some skin pampering, and then just relaxing on the sofa with the book you’re currently reading and some of your favourite music. It would’ve been a perfect day. But instead, you’re literally covered in engine grease, the kind used for airplanes, no less, and there’s no point in washing more than your hands before digging into your microwave meal which you bought from a vending machine outside the management offices.

Your colleague returns within the allotted half-hour break, which seems odd considering the time it usually takes to order a meal, receive it, and then eat it, plus the drive back and forth into town. But you’re sure as hell not gonna ask him about it. He’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with you. So, you get back to work, doing your best to ignore him for the rest of the day.

However, it being a holiday, albeit a small one, the staff aren’t gonna stick around until 9pm like last night. They start packing it in before 6pm, and since you can’t be there without a chaperone, you’re both forced to leave early as well, which means you now have an entire evening to spend with the one person you’ve ever met who hates spending time with a single living thing. On fucking Valentine’s Day.

He drives this time, and you’re so tired and fed up with this whole situation that you never even ask if you can stop by a grocery store on the way. And once back in the hotel room, you’re all but ready to collapse and sleep for the rest of the evening, but then you remember that you’re not in any way interested in sleeping next to your travel companion, which just sours your mood even more.

“Do you need the bathroom any time soon?” you ask after arriving back in the room, and he just shakes his head, so you grab your toiletry bag and some clean cozy clothes from your suitcase and then lock yourself in there for what’s gonna be a very long shower.

For a long while, you just sit on the floor underneath the spray, and cry. Maybe because you feel particularly lonely today, or maybe just because you’re so tired, but whatever the reason might be, you don’t care enough to try and work it out. But after what has to be an hour, possibly even more than that, you start to feel overheated, so you quickly clean your hair and scrub your skin before stepping out and getting started on some moisturization.

You still don’t wanna go out into the other room, though, so you take your time blow-drying and styling your hair, even though you’re just going to bed. Then you clean and dry all your product bottles before putting them back into your toiletry bag. And then you can’t find any more excuses to stay in there any longer, so with a deep sigh, you unlock the door and step out into the cool and dry air of the bedroom, heading straight for your suitcase without even looking to see where Tovar is.

Until something catches your eye. There’s a glimmer towards the head of your side of the bed, and when you look up, a little gift box is sitting on your pillow. You turn around once, scanning the room, but he isn’t in there. What is in there, sitting on the small table in the corner, is a classic silver tray with a cover, and a single red rose resting in front of it.

Confused, you look from the silvery little box with a perfect bow on top, to the silvery tray in the other end of the room, utterly unable to connect the dots and unsure of where to even start with this. Finally, after at least a minute of perplexed deliberation, you decide to open the gift first. It’s about the size of the palm of your hand, and it isn’t wrapped, so you can just lift the top half of it off, but once you do, you kinda forget how to be a human being for a split second.

Because this must be from him. But how the fuck does he know? You’ve never had a genuine conversation with the man, and he’s never once expressed any interest in learning anything personal about you. So, how could he possibly know that you’ve wanted a d’amour gold diamond necklace from Cartier for years, and just never felt like it was an acceptable expense? It’s not the priciest piece of jewellery, just shy of a thousand bucks, but that’s still way beyond what you feel is acceptable to spend on what’s essentially just an accessory.

Yet, here it is. The exact piece you’ve been dreaming about one day feeling like you can gift yourself. It makes no sense. Tearing your gaze off the sparkling jewellery to try and regain some clarity of thought, you then remember the tray, and slowly approach the little table, suddenly extremely curious but also kinda worried about what might be under that cover.

The rose is also of the expensive type, as big as a coffee cup saucer and blood red, with a sweet and soft aroma. You know the kinds of florists who sell these and it’s about the last place you’d ever expect to see Pero Tovar. The mental image alone is enough to make you snort. And then you lift the cover and once more lose your marbles, because the tray is absolutely filled with all your favourite treats.

From strawberries to your favourite sour candies, to caramel brownies, peanut butter cookies, your favourite chocolate, grapes, and two bottles of the best sparkling water you know. Even if your solo Valentine’s hadn’t been cancelled you never would’ve treated yourself to all this. And once again you’re left wondering how in the hell the unfriendliest man in the world has accomplished this.

But he’s not here, and his phone is sitting on the bedside table on his side of the bed, so you can’t reach him. Which has to mean he did all this so that you’d have a night to yourself in the middle of all this work, and the thought damned near makes you cry again. So instead, you take the necklace out of the box and put it on, then you grab the tray, move it onto the bed, turn on the tv and snuggle up while you search for something to watch.

He comes back around midnight, to give you as much space as he can without making himself miserable with too little sleep before work tomorrow, and he tries to be quiet when he steps out of his shoes and sneaks into the bathroom. Once he’s used the toilet and brushed his teeth, he stays in the bathroom while he undresses and then quietly makes his way to the bed. But once he sees you, he has to stop for a moment and just look at you.

The bedside lamps illuminate you where you lay, curled up against the headboard with the covers bunched up as a third pillow for you to hug, still fully dressed and with the tray of sweets in the middle of the bed, most of it already eaten. You’re holding the rose so that the soft petals touch your cheek, and around your neck the thin chain and tiny diamond glimmers. You’re far away, sleeping soundly with a slight smile in the corner of your mouth, and it makes him feel warm to see it.

You always smile, even when you have no apparent reason to. It’s how he’s used to seeing you, and it’s an unexpected relief to have that smile back. It takes him several minutes before he realizes that he’s been staring at you for far too long, and promptly reaches over to lift the tray out of the bed and take one of the spare blankets to cover you with, before he carefully crawls into bed beside you and falls asleep still watching you smile.

~~~ The alarm on his phone is automated, set to 6:15am for the entire week, and it goes off when it’s supposed to. He turns around and reaches for his phone but then hits snooze instead of turning it off. He’s dead tired and not at all in the mood to get up, so he tries to go back to sleep, hoping the alarm will magically turn back time and give him another two hours. But then that feeling hits him. That feeling which tells him something’s off and he needs to be alert, so he opens his eyes.

He’s still lying on his left side, facing your direction, so when he looks up, he meets your eyes staring back at him. You’ve sat up and you look tired and confused, but also… softer, maybe. Less tense than you have these past two days.

“When did you get in? I didn’t hear you.” You seem truly surprised to not have noticed him coming back, but then, you have no idea how stealthy he’s had to be earlier in his life, and how those skills still serve him on occasion.

“Midnight,” he sleepily slurs without lifting his head off the pillow.

“Oh. I was trying to stay up… to thank you.”

He doesn’t reply to that, because he really doesn’t know what to say, and he much prefers silence to outing himself as both stupid and incompetent where conversation is concerned.

“I spent all night trying to figure out how you could possibly know how much I love all these things,” you quietly continue in your raspy morning voice, which he finds himself enjoying far too much, “but then I decided that it doesn’t really matter. Because I know you aren’t nearly interested enough in people to ever stalk anyone, so however you found these things out, I don’t think there’s anything bad about it.”

You haven’t asked him anything, or indirectly posed an inquiry of any kind, so there’s nothing for him to answer, which is why he simply keeps looking at you. But in his mind, he recalls all the moments when he’s overheard you talking to your colleagues, freely sharing your interests, tastes, and dreams, as well as what things annoy, scare, or unsettle you. And he wonders if you’re even aware of how much you openly reveal about yourself without hesitation.

He thinks you must fear a great many things to be so ready to be known. To have such a need to never be misunderstood or caught on a lie that you’ll tell complete strangers about your thoughts and feelings on almost any subject, just to ensure they’ll know in advance why you might react negatively to certain things. Because that way, no one can ever call you a liar or attack you for being dishonest or unapproachable. He thinks you must be terribly scared of people in general, and that being completely open is your way of both protecting yourself and ensuring you won’t become closed off from the entire world.

But for all your vigilance, like everyone else around him, you don’t seem to notice him when he works within earshot of you, or just passes by close enough to overhear a few words or sentences of whatever conversation you happen to be in. He’s good at blending into the background when he chooses to, but he’s also aided by the fact that everyone overlooks him because they know he won’t interact with them even if they try, so it’s like their brains scrub him out of their senses to make sure they don’t waste any energy on him.

“What I do need to know,” you continue, oblivious to his internal memory trip, “is why you would ever spend a thousand bucks on a gift for someone you don’t care the least bit about.”

The alarm goes off again, and since he’s wide awake now, he sits up and switches it off, turning away from you as he throws his legs over the side of the bed.

“We need to get going,” is all he replies, fully aware that he’s avoiding the issue and using the fact that you still haven’t asked him a direct question as an excuse not to answer.

But he knows the answer. He knows it painfully well. And there’s a part of him who seriously hates that truth. You’re always unsure around him, for good reason since he’s never made it possible for you to be comfortable and relaxed in his presence, but his dismissal this time is more than just rude. It’s cruel, because it leaves you completely unable to judge his behaviour.

Did he do this for you because he’s trying to manipulate you? Or because he expects a favour in return? Is he trying to get into your pants? He can tell even without looking at you that these questions now flood your mind, as the tension of fear makes the entire room electric from one moment to the next.

Ordinarily, you don’t shy away from tough conversations. You hate it when things hang in the air like thunderclouds waiting to strike at you. But you’re also smart enough to pick your battles and you’ve understood from day one, that all discussions involving Pero are gonna be largely pointless, especially when he behaves this erratically. But he wishes you would pick this fight. He hates to see your fear. If only he had the guts to let you know that.

The workday continues just like the previous ones, with the two of you on separate tasks, him working on the computer and you out on the main body of the machine, teaching the operators how to reset and mend the hydraulics. You’re tremendously skilled at all functions of this complicated machine, especially considering how short a time you’ve spent learning it, so he’s never concerned about you working on it. The sister factory operators, on the other hand, he could outright strangle with their own incompetence.

And it only gets worse today, after he overhears a conversation between a few of them while they’re making their way to the lunchroom. As usual, they don’t notice him still working where they slowly pass while quietly speaking amongst themselves, and the first sentence he hears is enough to set his teeth on edge, so he abandons the work and sneaks after them.

He’s in a seriously bad mood that evening, and you can’t help but think it has to do with you, for some reason. He doesn’t wanna look at you and every time he has to, his mood seems to sour even more, and since you have no idea what you could’ve done, it just scares you. So, by the time you get back to the hotel, around 9pm, you’re not even thinking about laying down in the same bed as him.

Using the same tactic as the first night, you offer him the bathroom first and then take your time in there once he’s done. Then you sneak out and quietly pull the covers and pillows down on the floor, where you make a bed for yourself. You don’t hear anything from him, so you assume he’s already asleep, and after a little while, you manage to drift off as well. But the floor is hard, and you’re not used to that, so you wake up frequently as your body goes sore and occasionally numb from the pressure, forcing you to switch positions.

All of which means you don’t really get a lot of sleep, and by the early hours of the morning you’re finally all but passed out from exhaustion. And of course, that’s when his alarm goes off. You’re sleeping so heavily just then that you go back to sleep the moment the alarm is turned off, and it isn’t until you feel a hand on your shoulder that you finally wake up fully, with an instinctive, sharp jerk away from the unfamiliar touch.

“What are you doing on the floor, Sonriente?” he asks, and he still sounds almost angry, which makes you shrink away from him.

But you can’t find a single word to explain how he is the reason why you’ve put yourself in such an uncomfortable position, so you just turn away and start trying to wake your limbs up enough that you can stand and maybe begin to feel a little less vulnerable. Surprisingly though, as soon as he sees what you’re doing, he immediately reaches out and helps you until you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. Which only further confuses you because why would he help you when he’s angry with you?

You’re trembling slightly when he lets go of you, and you’re not sure if it’s because your limbs are still in the process of waking up or if it’s adrenaline, but either way, he notices, and it seems to connect the dots for him.

“You sleep on the floor because of me?” he quietly asks, while slowly backing away from you, and he looks either shocked or hurt. You can’t tell which.

“I don’t know why you’re so angry… but whatever I’ve done-…”

“No,” he cuts you off sharply, shaking his head and closing his eyes as if it’ll somehow make all of this go away. “It is not you.”

There’s something very raw and open about him in that moment. As though his innermost being is exposed and trying to crawl back into the shadows of his heart, but hindered by whatever this thing is that’s making him so angry.

“It is never you…” he barely whispers, and now he is the one who’s trembling.

“But then… why? Why could you barely even look at me yesterday, and why did it seem like you only got angrier every time you did?” you question, feeling slightly bolder now that you’re starting to see how vulnerable he is in this situation.

A ripple seems to go through him, and suddenly all the hairs on his arms stand up, and the trembling in his hands intensifies.

“I can’t say it.” He’s gritting his teeth as he speaks, so the words come out in a slight growl, but you can sense now that this isn’t directed at you at all. “But I would never hurt you.”

He sinks to one knee on the floor in front of you, still with his eyes closed and his head bowed, and his fists closed tightly against his thighs, but somehow you’re not the least bit scared of him anymore. You slip off the bed and drop to your knees before him, carefully reaching a hand up to his shoulder to see how he reacts, and the moment you make contact, another ripple goes through him.

But in the aftermath, he softens. His shoulders drop and something seems to unlock within him, so you decide to take both his hands in yours, fully expecting him not to accept the small act of comfort. But he does. Piece by piece, he surrenders, first by letting his hands be held, and then by holding yours in return. He’s breathing hard, and you can see the pounding of his heart in his neck and on his temples, but the longer you hold onto him, the calmer he becomes.

“I’m sorry… for ever letting you think you had to protect yourself from me,” he eventually whispers, and his voice trembles with the anger that still simmers within him. “I promise you will never have to.”

You feel like you’re seeing him for the first time all over again, or at least seeing sides of him you never would’ve thought even existed if this stupid trip had never happened. And it emboldens you in terms of how much you dare to stand up for yourself and demand a few explanations. Because you sure as shit have questions and it’s about time he answers them.

“Why did you buy me the necklace, Pero?” You keep your tone soft, but you also let your voice remain strong to let him know you’re not gonna tolerate any excuses, and then you wait patiently while he gathers himself.

“Because you were stuck here with me,” he eventually begins, and his voice is full of uncertainty now, which is something you never thought you’d hear from this man. “I know you had plans for Valentine’s and it all got ruined, but then you also had to put up with me and I just thought… maybe it would bring your smile back for a while.”

“My smile?” Of all the reasons to give someone a gift, making them smile is certainly good enough. But this particular man wishing to make you smile is entirely unexpected.

“You always do. Like there is a happy little film playing on the insides of your eyes all the time. Have you not noticed how everyone you meet smiles back at you?” he wonders, and you think back to all the people you’re regularly around, and then all the people you’ve met for the first time recently.

And he’s right. Everyone always smiles at you, even the most sour office workers whenever they have to set foot in the factory where they’re no longer the experts on everything because their knowledge is all theoretical and they wouldn’t be able to operate much of anything out there on the floor. Everyone smiles at you. Except Tovar.

“You are sunshine,” he continues, “drawing people in with your light and warmth. It is impossible to resist.”

“But you do. I’ve never seen you smile, not at me or anyone, for any reason, not even a smirk,” you counter, before you slip a hand out of his to reach up and gently lift his chin, because you need to see his eyes. “So, why are you suddenly acting like this matters to you?”

It takes him a minute, in which he keeps trying not to look at you, but his eyes still return to meet yours every few seconds, as if he really can’t resist.

“It always makes me happy to see you,” he finally admits, and he looks so small and unsure suddenly, which stuns you somewhat, because you would never even have imagined that Pero Tovar could look anything but tall, broad and competent. “I’m sorry that I am not better at showing you this.”

It’s still so difficult to wrap your head around this, because in the entire year you’ve been around him, this man has never shown any level of care for another human being, whatsoever. As in, you’ve seen him sigh and continue working as if nothing happened, after a guy standing next to him accidentally crushed his own foot.

“So… you’re saying you care about me?” you ask, needing the outright confirmation before you’ll even be able to begin accepting it.

He pauses again. But this time, he meets your eyes the whole time.

“Yes.”

You’re a little late to work this morning, but he’s very relieved to have had the conversation you ended up having after waking up. It had damned near broken his heart to find you on the floor, knowing it was all his fault for being such a fucked-up person that he can’t even tell you he wasn’t angry with you. And he’s absolutely certain that anyone else would’ve either gotten angry with him or just tried to avoid the conversation all together.

But not you. You always take the hard road, because that’s how much honesty means to you, and you always manage to do it without losing your temper or getting rude about it. It’s one of a long line of things he admires about you. And that’s precisely why he’s never dared to actually talk to you. He doesn’t know how to do any of that. How to have honest and open conversations without losing his shit at some point. It’s destroyed every relationship he’s ever tried to have, and he’s been so scared of losing the calm and harmony you bring into his life by just existing in his presence, that he never would’ve attempted it.

But this morning was different, because you didn’t get angry or defensive or even demanding. You just kept opening doors for him and for the first time in at least twenty years, he found the courage to step through them, one by one. And now, when you park at the sister factory for your fourth day of working on MAP, he feels like maybe this won’t be as bad of a day as he had initially thought.

As usual, Hannah comes out to escort you both, but there’s a grim look on her face today, and while Pero can guess the reason behind it, you still have no idea what happened here yesterday.

“Good morning. I’m afraid we’re a bit short-staffed today so you’ll have to make due with just two extra pairs of hands on the hydraulics.”

“Is there a flu going round, or something?” you ask, which is a valid question given that you worked closely with the three men who are out sick today and who could’ve infected you with a disease.

“No, no. It seems there was an incident here yesterday, and a few of our workers were injured.”

“Oh. Was it another malfunction?”

“It appears to have been an altercation, actually,” Hannah explains, to which you raise a shocked brow. “None of the boys are talking about it, so we don’t know exactly what happened, but between them they have broken hands, arms, noses, ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a shattered knee. So, whatever went down, it was serious.”

At this point, Pero notices a slight stutter in your steps, just before your head turns ever so slightly in his direction. You know that he can fight, and you know he isn’t afraid to get in the middle of it when he wants to, so you’re probably guessing that he was involved in this altercation and that it explains his temper problem from yesterday. All of which is correct, and none of which he intends to confess to in front of the supervisor, which is why he’s relieved when you don’t say anything.

Once by the control panel for MAP, however, where no other operators are working, since they’re already busy with the hydraulics, you only wait until Hannah’s moved out of earshot before you come at him.

“What the hell, Tovar? Did you mess up those guys?” Your voice is low, but the tone is heavy with accusation and even a bit of disbelief, so you clearly never noticed the darker shades of these particular operators as they worked with you.

“Yes,” he admits without shame or hesitation, to which your shock doubles.

“Why would you do that?”

He doesn’t want to answer this one, so he gets to work, hoping you’ll let it go as you usually do when he shuts you down. But of course, this is one of those times when you decide to take the fight, probably because of the progress with communication you had this morning.

“None of them even worked with you, what reason could you possibly have to break their fucking bones?”

Disgusting words spoken in entitled and arrogant voices suddenly flood his mind once more, and his anger re-emerges with full force. But he manages to stay in control of himself, so while he turns his head to meet your questioning gaze, none of that anger spills onto you, and it only takes you a second to realize why. Your breath seems to die inside your lungs and for a moment he worries that you’re about to pass out. But then you suck in a shaky breath and tears form in your eyes as the understanding dawns on you.

It’s a horrible thing to see, watching as you involuntarily envision what could’ve happened, the nausea and sudden weakness which seems to creep into your very bones even at the mere suggestion of the plans that Pero interrupted by taking them out. If he’d needed any reassurance that his actions were just, your reaction is more than enough. But it only lasts for a few seconds, and then a different emotion begins to replace the fear and discomfort. It takes him a minute to figure out what it is, and just as he does, you step towards him.

The strength of your arms when they wrap around his waist is almost enough to bruise him, but he doesn’t mind. He might not often feel deserving of someone’s gratitude, as the things he occasionally does to aid them are largely self-serving, but he does this time. Not because this threat was more real than any other, but simply because he knows and cares about you. He’s tried not to. Tried every day not to let you creep further under his skin and infect him with your joy, but he never stood a chance.

You don’t speak and you don’t need to. Your body tells him the truth of what you’re feeling in that moment, in the tiny shivers which keep making you tremble against him, and the strained breaths you struggle to take with your face buried against his chest. He can feel how hard you’re trying not to cry, how you bite it back with each inhale and then almost lose control of it every time your lungs empty. But he also feels the relief within you when he wraps his arms around your shoulders and rests his cheek against the side of your head.

In this moment, he has become your safety. The place where you choose to be because it makes you feel better. And for all his accomplishments, his inventions and ideas, technical skills and comprehensive knowledge, this is the only time he can recall ever feeling truly proud of himself. Because you’re choosing him. You. The strongest and most impressive person he’s ever met.

~~~ That night, you fall asleep lying next to him, and although he’s tired after a long and emotional day, he stays awake for a little while just to look at you. Just to make sure you’re still smiling in your sleep. And in the following five days, which it takes to finally fix the machine, this becomes your routine every night. So, when the day eventually comes when it’s time to return home, you’re both mildly disappointed by the prospect of going back to your empty beds.

Still, it’s nice to come home. You see your cars still parked where you left them when you drive past the employee lot on your way to the company car slots. It’s past office hours so once you’ve collected your things, you drop the keys in a kind of mailbox designed specifically for that purpose, and then begin making your way back to your own vehicles. Neither of you are in a hurry, and he decides to walk you to your car before he heads to his own, just to help you feel safe. He’s noticed that you’re still rattled about the incident he prevented, in how you’ve been jumpier than usual.

“I never thought I’d say this,” you quietly muse once you reach your car, “but I’m gonna miss your presence tonight.”

You say it with a smile, but there’s insecurity within the expression, making him think that what you’re really going to miss is the feeling of safety which his closeness over the past week has given you.

“But it will be nice to sleep in your own bed, yes?”

“Definitely.”

“And we will meet for the debrief first thing in the morning,” he concludes, hoping to leave you with a brighter perspective. And perhaps also hoping that you’ll reassure him of your desire to see him again.

“The debrief?” Your question is genuine, reminding him that this is your first time working away and that you’ve probably never been told about the follow-up procedures.

“Yes. We must meet Gary in the morning and explain everything that’s happened and what we have done.”

“But won’t he have gotten continuous updates from the management team over there?”

“Of course. The debrief is to ensure that our recollection and experience of what has happened concurs with theirs, to eliminate the risk of either side trying to hide any problems or complications. So, we will need to tell Gary about the user errors which led to the breakdown.”

“Okay. But we’re not telling him about…” you trail off, unable to finish the sentence because the thought alone still makes you curl in on yourself.

“It would not do much good. Those men will be dealt with by the sister factory’s human resources unit.”

“How so? We never told them what really happened, so why would their HR get involved at all?”

“Because I hacked their phones and took a look at their search histories and saved videos, and even the small percentage of things I anonymously sent to their HR representative will be enough to get them arrested eventually,” he confesses, and it somehow still surprises him just how warm it makes him feel inside when he sees the relief in your frame.

“Careful, Pero. I might start spreading a rumour that you’re secretly the sweetest guy in the world,” you joke, but there’s a hint of seriousness behind the teasing tone.

“Go ahead, Sonriente. No one would believe you.”

He says it with a soft note to his voice, just to make sure you know he wouldn’t mind if you did decide to spread rumours about him, regardless of what they might concern, if it would in any way help you feel good.

“That’s definitely true,” you agree, mirroring his softness, and a slight spark lights up somewhere in your eyes then. “But you know, I kinda like that I’m the only who’s seen this other side of you.”

“You may take all the credit for this yourself, because no one else has a hope of drawing it out of me. But it seems, against you, I have no defences anymore.”

The smile you give him in response to that is enough to make him wish he could always sleep beside you. But this is where you finally part ways for the night. He waits until you’re safely locked inside your car before he heads over to his own, already missing your closeness when he takes a seat and buckles up, and already accepting the fact that he won’t get much sleep tonight.

It almost feels stupid how relieved you are to see him again the next morning. And the way his eyes light up when you walk into Gary’s office, just a few seconds past the dotted time, makes you wanna sit down on his lap rather than the chair beside him. But you notice how discreet his reaction is now that there’s an audience, compared to how directly he’s been allowing you to see his emotions while you’ve been couped up together in that hotel room. So, even though he might like you, he’s not prepared for the world to know about it, which is why you greet him with just a polite nod while you take your seat.

“Good morning,” Gary grumbles in his characteristically sour morning mood. “So, this took a bit longer than I’d hoped, but I see you got the MAP working again, well done.”

“Yeah. It was shot to shit when we got there,” you chip in, immediately back to expecting Tovar not to speak unless he’s asked a question, since that is still his normal state of being.

“I saw the pictures of the hard drives. Someone sure did a real number on that thing.”

“I’m guessing more than one someone. But we’ve shown them how to operate it correctly now, so hopefully it won’t happen again.”

He asks you to go over the repair process day by day, and he has a lot of questions along the way, and true to form, your colleague remains silent unless Gary addresses him, so it ends up being a lot of talking for you. But as it begins to wind down, you start to wonder if Pero is being deliberately silent specifically because he wants you to talk through it.

He’s always quiet at work, that’s not unusual. But this was his repair job, not yours. You were just the extra hands, which means that this debrief should be primarily directed at him, yet by keeping his mouth shut, he’s forcing the supervisor to focus on you. And in doing so, you’re getting a chance to unpack everything that’s happened, at least in your own head, even though you’re editing stuff out before you speak. Gary knows better than to push his top employee for a comment when the man is clearly not in a talkative mood, so it works perfectly, if indeed that is what the Spaniard’s doing.

“Alright, I think I’ve got everything I need, so unless either of you have anything you wanna add, we can wrap it up here.”

“Nope, all good,” you cheerfully declare, feeling lighter than you have in the past few days.

“No critique you wanna hurl at me? About the hotel or the car? No jackass operator giving you a hard time over there, or anything?”

From the corner of your eye, you see Tovar shift ever so slightly in his seat, and you wonder if he’s thinking about the men he hurt, or the one bed hotel room you initially hadn’t wanted to share with him. But he says nothing, so you just shake your head at your supervisor and then the two of you leave his office and head onto the factory floor to get started on your regular workday.

It’s nice to be back at your own station with your regular crew. It feels safe and familiar. But you find yourself thinking about Pero almost every second of the day. Wondering what he’s up to whenever you can’t see him at his station and wondering if he’s thinking about you at all whenever you do see him. He never looks at you while he’s working, at least not that you can tell, so by lunchtime you’re pleased when he falls in beside you while you walk towards the breakroom, although it is a bit disappointing when he still takes his usual spot at the far end of the room rather than choosing to sit with you.

But you do understand. It’s not like he’s gonna become a different person just because the two of you have begun to build a friendship, and you wouldn’t want him to. So, you take your usual seat and play along with the customary banter, answering everyone's questions about the sister factory and what you got up to over there, and it all feels comfortably normal.

Until someone makes a remark about Pero, the kind of thing you would’ve previously just ignored, but which now that you feel closer to your taciturn colleague, you suddenly find offensive.

“Bet this one charmed everyone’s socks off,” the operator smirks, throwing a thumb in Tovar’s general direction after you’ve just finished describing the difficulty of coming in as the experts and trying to find a good working dynamic with a different crew.

And in that moment, the fact that the Spaniard never defends himself, despite seriously fucking people up for just talking about hurting you, just makes you feel like it’s your turn to have his back and teach this crew not to talk about him like he isn’t even there.

“No, he didn’t. But he did manage to charm my pants off.”

You say it frankly, leaving no question that it’s the truth, even though you’re twisting the narrative a bit to make it sound like the two of you hooked up, when you’re actually just referring to him making you feel safe enough to sleep beside him in nothing but your panties and a top. Still, the effect it has on the entire room is worth the fib.

They all know you’re not easy. It takes a lot just for someone to get a date with you, courtesy of trust issues because of previous experiences. Nothing traumatic, thankfully, but enough that you always have your guard up and actively look for red flags in every guy you meet. Also, you’re very clear on what you want and what you tolerate, as well as what you don’t, which is enough to deter a great many men. So, for you to let a mystery like Pero anywhere near you, he has to have insanely good game, and not one of the people in that breakroom with you can picture a reality where that’s even possible.

Which results in a highly amusing blend of shocked and disbelieving faces, some frozen while they’re clearly trying to visualize this alternate universe, while others are just staring at Tovar, still sitting there perfectly calmly in his usual spot, reading something on his phone. And the best part is, none of them have the guts to ask him about it, because they’re all just as scared of him as you still were two weeks ago. Which means that all they can do is live with this incredibly shocking revelation, presumably forever.

You continue to chuckle about it for the rest of the day, and when the next shift arrives to relieve you, from a distance, you can see how they too are informed of this latest piece of gossip. So, odds are, this is now gonna be the talk of the factory for the foreseeable future.

“You know you will be the topic of discussion for a long time now,” Pero cautions as if he’s just read your mind, while he comes to help you clean up before you leave your station.

“It’s harmless, I don’t mind. Besides, it is true.”

“Technically. But I do not like them thinking of you as a conquest. Mine or anyone else’s.”

“Okay. Then shut them down,” you smile, and he can tell there’s a hidden meaning behind those words, but he can’t quite make it out, so you decide to spell it out for him. “Let’s go on a date.”

Your confidence ebbs out about halfway through the sentence, resulting in a sudden fade of both volume and potency, so the word date comes out all strangled and barely even audible. But you’ve said it now, so you might as well soldier on.

“What I mean is, I would like to go on a date with you. You’re free to decline, of course,” you elaborate, feeling more insecure by the second, even turning your head down to look at your shoes because you suddenly remember how much rejection stings, which you somehow hadn’t thought about until just now.

“Do you like empanadas?” he asks then, and his voice is soft, just like it always was when the two of you were alone together in the hotel room this last week.

“I’ve never tried them,” you confess, still unsure of what he means by that, but then he gives you a little smile.

“Then I will make them for you. My mother’s recipe is a bit spicy, but I think you can handle it.”

Relief and joy wash over you as you realize he’s agreeing, and your responding smile feels like it blossoms out of you. Like there’s no connection between your brain and your heart in that moment, it just happens because the feeling is too big to control.

“Okay. So… your place?”

“You choose. If you wish to have the option to leave if you feel uncomfortable: my place. If you wish to eat by a table and not sitting in the sofa: your place.”

“For the record, I know I’d feel safe at your place. But yeah, a table might be nice,” you chuckle, and he nods in agreement, so you decide to be bold. “How about tonight, maybe 6pm?”

“Sure,” he quietly agrees, but you can tell he’s pleased that you didn’t suggest waiting until the weekend.

“Great. And if you’re gonna cook then I’ll get dessert.” You say it while starting to walk towards the assembled crews, ridiculously happy to see them still flabbergasted at the realization that their grumpiest colleague apparently has more game than all of them.

But when you turn your back to him, you miss how his expression changes as he follows you, turning from a controlled interest and mild happiness, to almost tearful with gratitude that you’d still choose to spend time with him even when you no longer need to. He might not be ready to show it in front of the others, but the brightness you pour into his soul with just your smile and your willingness to give him a chance, would make him glow in the dark if it was visible. You might not have figured it out yet, but Pero Tovar already belongs to you, so all you need to do to have your forever Valentine, is simply to keep choosing him.

I’m not gonna write THE END on this one, because I feel like I’m gonna be returning to these two at some point, so please let me know if that’s something you’d like to see. All my love, always. /Jay

@pedrostories @harriedandharassed

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x female reader #pero x reader #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall modern au #the great wall au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #au fic #valentine's day #happy valentine's day #valentines day fic #sirowsky stories

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shiorihyugawrites · 2 months ago

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The Devil's Bride

Aurora Jaeger, Eren's long-lost childhood friend, was taken from him when they were children. After years of suffering under Marleyan control, Aurora is reunited with Eren while he’s undercover in Marley, igniting a bond neither of them expected. Despite her gentle nature, Aurora breaks her vow of pacifism to save Eren’s life, solidifying their deep connection. Secretly married before the Raid on Liberio, Aurora is swept into Eren's world of chaos and destruction. As the Scouts learn of her existence, tensions rise on the airship home. Mikasa’s heart shatters, and Levi demands answers. And Eren will stop at nothing to protect the only light left in his dark world—his bride, Aurora.

In this journey of love, loyalty, and war, Aurora must reconcile her innocent heart with the brutal reality of the man she loves, while Eren faces the truth of what he’s become. (Eren x OC)

Chapter Forty Seven

The Underground City beneath Wall Sina was a sprawling, dimly lit labyrinth, its stone tunnels stretching deep beneath the capital. Once a den of crime and poverty, it had been abandoned after the fall of the walls, its former residents forced to integrate with the surface world. Now, it was being repurposed as a last refuge, a desperate attempt to shield Paradis’ civilians from the devastation that was about to unfold.

With the countdown to the final battle against Marley ticking closer each day, Queen Historia had ordered a mass evacuation. It had been a difficult decision—forcing thousands of people to leave their homes, their livelihoods, their entire lives behind to take shelter underground. But there was no other choice.

Eren’s plan to activate the Rumbling meant the walls would fall. The colossal titans embedded within them would awaken, bringing destruction in their wake as they marched across the island. Additionally, Marley’s aerial bombings would certainly cause mass destruction. The goal was to limit as much collateral damage as possible, which was why the only safe place for civilians now was below the surface.

Even so, the citizens were not happy about it.

Aurora could hear the murmurs of discontent as she walked through the underground corridors, her presence drawing whispers from those who recognized her.

"Why are we being forced down here like rats?" a man grumbled nearby.

"We should be fighting," another muttered, arms crossed. "Not hiding."

"We don’t even know if this place is safe," a woman added, shaking her head. "What if the whole thing collapses when the walls come down?"

Aurora stopped and turned to face them, her hands gently resting over her swollen belly. She knew the frustration they felt—she understood their fear. But the reality was brutal, and they had no time for illusions.

"I know this isn't easy," she said, her voice steady but gentle. "But you all need to understand that this is the only way to keep as many people alive as possible. When the walls fall, we have no idea how much of the land above will be destroyed in the process. If you stay up there, you’re risking your lives. Down here, at least, you have a chance."

Some looked away, unwilling to meet her gaze, but others nodded reluctantly.

Historia had personally overseen the restoration of the Underground City over the past few weeks, working tirelessly to make it livable again. Buildings had been reinforced, old infrastructure repaired, and essential supplies brought in. It still wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it was safer than being on the surface when the Rumbling began.

The only ones not being evacuated were the soldiers. Eren, Levi, Hange, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Mikasa, Porco, Reiner, and Pieck, along with the hundreds of Jaegerists, were all staying above ground, making their final preparations for war.

Aurora hated that. She hated that Eren would be out there, fighting, while she was stuck down here, helpless. But there was no room for negotiation.

Eren had made it clear: she was not going anywhere near the battlefield.

Historia was the one in charge of ensuring Aurora stayed put, and Aurora knew she wouldn’t be able to get past her. The Queen was determined to keep her and the baby safe, and Aurora had resigned herself to the fact that she would be waiting in the depths of the palace in Capital Mitras while the world changed forever.

Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t help in other ways.

She had spent the past few weeks overseeing food and medicine rationing, working alongside Historia and the Jaegerists to ensure that the civilians had enough to survive the next six weeks. It wasn’t easy—supply shortages were already becoming an issue—but they were managing. Barely.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy boots approaching, and she turned to see Armin striding toward her, his blond hair messy from exhaustion.

"You need to sit down," he told her, his sharp blue eyes filled with concern. "You’ve been on your feet all day."

Aurora sighed. "I’m fine, Armin. There’s too much to do."

"You’re literally thirty-six weeks pregnant," he deadpanned, crossing his arms. "You don’t have to do everything."

Aurora knew he was right, but she didn’t want to stop. If she wasn’t working, if she wasn’t organizing and planning, then all she would have left was time to think—to dwell on the war creeping closer every day. On Eren. On what was to come.

Still, she let Armin guide her to a wooden bench near the main storage area, where Historia was hunched over a map, speaking with a group of Jaegerists about food distribution. Aurora could hear the exhaustion in her voice, but she was pushing through it, just as they all were.

“We’re estimating at least another five hundred civilians will be escorted here within the next few days,” Historia was saying, tapping a spot on the map. “This area here—we can set up temporary housing if we repurpose the old market space.”

One of the Jaegerists hesitated. “Your Majesty, we’re already stretching our food supplies thin. How much longer can we keep this up?”

Historia didn’t waver. “As long as we have to.”

Aurora spoke up then, her voice steady. “We can begin rationing more strictly. I’ve already started organizing medical supplies to ensure we don’t run out too quickly. If we manage everything carefully, we can make it through the next six weeks.”

The soldiers glanced at one another before nodding. They knew better than to question Aurora when it came to logistics.

Just then, the heavy thud of boots echoed against the stone as Levi and Mikasa entered the underground chamber, dust and grime coating their uniforms. Behind them, a dozen more Jaegerists followed, escorting another wave of refugees.

"We got another group from the outer districts," Levi announced, his voice sharp as ever. "If this keeps up, we’ll have the entire population of Wall Rose crammed into this dump."

Aurora could hear the frustration in his voice, but she also knew he would do whatever it took to keep these people safe. That was just the kind of leader he was.

"Is Eren still above ground?" she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

Levi's expression darkened slightly. "He’s still training the recruits with the Inferno Blades. But don’t ask me to check on him. The brat’s too damn stubborn to listen to anyone."

Aurora swallowed down the urge to press further. She already knew Eren was throwing himself into this, refusing to rest, pushing himself beyond reason. And with every passing day, the moment they had been dreading crept closer.

The Rumbling.

She could see it in Historia’s eyes too. The weight of everything pressed down on all of them, but Historia bore it in a different way. She wasn’t just a leader—she was a symbol of hope for the people. And yet, despite everything, despite knowing what was about to happen, Historia still carried herself with unwavering determination.

Porco wasn’t far behind, standing close to Historia, his sharp gaze scanning the room like a protective shadow. He had barely left her side since the attack, and though Aurora could see the occasional flicker of amusement in Historia’s eyes whenever he got too overprotective, she didn’t push him away.

The weight of war had changed all of them.

Aurora let out a slow breath, rubbing absentmindedly at her belly.

Noah, the little boy she had saved, suddenly appeared at her side, holding a small wooden cup of water. “Aurora, you should drink something."

She smiled down at him, touched by his concern. "Thank you, sweetheart." She took the cup and sipped at it as Noah beamed proudly.

Reiner had been watching from a few feet away, standing off to the side, arms crossed. Aurora could see the conflict in his expression—how he still felt out of place here, like he didn’t belong. But Noah ran to him without hesitation, tugging at his sleeve, and Aurora saw something soften in Reiner’s usually tense posture.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Historia finally said, her voice carrying across the chamber. “This isn’t ideal, but we have to prepare for what’s coming. And when the time comes, we’ll fight.”

No one argued.

Because they all knew she was right.

Aurora clenched her fingers into the fabric of her dress.

They had no other choice.

…

Levi had been watching Aurora closely for the past hour, his sharp eyes catching the way her movements had slowed, how she leaned against the table just a little too long after organizing the latest food rations. She was trying to mask it, keeping up her usual determined pace, but Levi had been around long enough to recognize when someone was pushing themselves too hard.

And Aurora was pushing herself too damn hard.

Historia had noticed too. As the queen stood beside him, reviewing another set of evacuation plans, her gaze flickered toward Aurora with barely concealed concern.

“She’s been working all day without stopping,” Historia murmured, crossing her arms. “I swear, I’ve never seen a more active pregnant woman in my life.”

Levi grunted in agreement, already stepping forward. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries—he simply grabbed Aurora’s arm in a firm grip, ignoring her startled look.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said flatly, already steering her toward the exit.

Aurora tried to protest, digging her heels in. “Captain, I’m fine—”

“You’re done,” Levi cut her off, unimpressed. “I’m not about to let you work yourself into early labor. You’re going back to the base.”

Historia arched an eyebrow. “Captain, we still have work to—”

“I don’t care,” Levi said, throwing Historia a look over his shoulder. “Jaeger would bitch in my face all night if I let his wife drop from exhaustion. She’s done for the day.”

Aurora sighed, exasperated. “Captain, really, I—”

“Shut up,” Levi said. “I’m taking you back to your husband.”

Aurora blinked, thrown off by the edge in his tone. But before she could respond, Levi had already led her above ground, guiding her toward the black horse he had tied up outside.

With practiced ease, he mounted the horse before reaching down and hoisting Aurora up in front of him, settling her securely between his arms.

“Captain—”

“Just relax,” Levi said dryly. “Not like you have a choice.”

Aurora huffed but didn’t argue further. She was tired, she had to admit that much. And as the horse began its steady gallop toward the Jaegerist base, she found herself leaning slightly against Levi’s chest, exhaustion finally catching up to her.

By the time they arrived at the training grounds near the base, Aurora could hear the sounds of clashing steel and the shouts of Jaegerist recruits echoing through the air.

Levi pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted first, before turning and effortlessly lifting Aurora down. She barely had time to steady herself before he was already marching toward the training grounds, his eyes locked onto one particular figure.

Eren.

Aurora spotted him immediately, his dark hair damp with sweat as he moved through the recruits, demonstrating how to properly wield the Inferno Blades. His movements were fluid, controlled, but there was a lethal edge to him, a barely contained intensity that never seemed to fade.

The moment Eren turned and saw her, his green eyes widened slightly before narrowing in question.

Levi wasted no time. With barely any effort, he grabbed Aurora again and quite literally dumped her into Eren’s arms.

“Make sure she actually rests,” Levi said bluntly. “She’s been running herself ragged.”

Aurora yelped slightly as she landed against Eren’s chest, his strong arms immediately wrapping around her instinctively. She tilted her head back to glare at Levi, but the Captain was already turning away, mounting his horse again.

Eren, however, kept his gaze locked on her, his expression shifting into something between concern and amusement.

“She’s been working all day?” he asked, glancing up at Levi.

“Like a damn lunatic,” Levi muttered. “Make sure she doesn’t get up unless it’s to eat or piss.”

Aurora scoffed. “Captain, I—”

Levi didn’t wait to hear her protests. With a sharp tug on the reins, he turned his horse around and galloped off, leaving her standing in Eren’s arms.

For a long moment, Eren just stared at her, his jaw tightening.

“Are you seriously overworking yourself again?” he asked, his tone low, though there was a clear note of irritation.

Aurora sighed, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m fine, Eren.”

Eren exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly unconvinced. His hands slid down to cup her waist, firm but gentle as he pulled her closer. “No, you’re not. You need to rest.”

Aurora huffed, but the way Eren was looking at her made her stomach twist with warmth. There was worry in his eyes, a depth of concern that had only grown stronger as her pregnancy progressed. He wasn’t just protective—he was downright obsessive when it came to making sure she was safe.

“I just… want to help,” Aurora murmured, glancing away.

“You are helping,” Eren countered, tilting her chin up so she had to meet his gaze. “But you’re not doing anything if you collapse.”

Aurora bit her lip, knowing he had a point.

Eren sighed before he bent down slightly, tucking his arms beneath her legs and effortlessly lifting her into his arms.

“Eren—!” Aurora gasped, gripping his shoulders.

“You’re done for today,” Eren said simply, carrying her toward the base. “No more arguing.”

Aurora gave up fighting. Instead, she just curled into him, her head resting against his shoulder as he carried her inside.

She supposed Levi had been right.

She really did need the rest.

…

The recruits had been training relentlessly for hours, their bodies drenched in sweat, their muscles aching from the sheer intensity of their drills. Many of them had idolized Eren Jaeger from the moment they set foot in the Jaegerist ranks. He was the symbol of their revolution, the man who had declared war on the world and was going to bring Paradis its long-awaited freedom. To them, Eren wasn’t just a leader—he was nearly godlike.

But now, as they watched him carry his pregnant wife in his arms, murmuring something softly to her as she tucked herself against his chest, the recruits couldn’t help but stare in stunned silence.

This was not the Eren Jaeger they were used to.

The Eren they saw in battle was ruthless, a terrifying force of destruction that could rip through entire armies without hesitation. Even when he trained them, there was no leniency—only grueling, relentless drills that left them gasping for breath.

Yet here he was, holding Aurora as if she were the most fragile thing in the world, his hardened expression softened into something almost unrecognizable. He wasn’t barking orders or glaring at them with those intense green eyes. Instead, he was whispering something low enough that only she could hear, his fingers brushing against her platinum hair, his movements careful and deliberate as if making sure she was comfortable.

A few recruits exchanged glances, unsure of how to process what they were seeing.

One of them, a younger boy barely out of his teenage years, hesitantly leaned toward his squadmate. “Is that… really the same guy who trained us this morning?” he whispered.

His squadmate, a girl with her arms crossed over her chest, shook her head, equally as baffled. “I don’t know… I mean, I knew he was married, but I didn’t think he’d be… like that.”

They weren’t the only ones whispering amongst themselves.

One of the older recruits scoffed, crossing his arms. “Tch. Can’t believe this is the same guy who wiped out Liberio. Looks almost… normal.”

Another recruit, a more seasoned soldier who had been around long enough to witness Eren’s transformation over the years, chuckled under his breath. “You lot forget he’s human? He’s not some mindless war machine. He’s got a wife, and she’s carrying his kid. Makes sense he’d be different around her.”

That thought alone unsettled some of them.

Eren Jaeger, a loving husband? A father-to-be?

It was almost too much to wrap their heads around. To many of them, Eren was more myth than man. He was the embodiment of their cause, the relentless warrior who would free them all. Seeing him this way—so gentle, so… devoted—it was jarring.

Another recruit hesitated before speaking. “I just thought… he’d still be the same, you know? Even with a wife.”

The more seasoned soldier shrugged. “Everyone has something they care about.”

A hush fell over them as they continued watching.

Eren had reached the entrance of the base now, and just before he carried Aurora inside, he paused, his gaze flickering over his shoulder.

The recruits tensed.

His sharp green eyes scanned over them, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he turned away, carrying Aurora into the building without another word.

The tension among the recruits lingered long after he was gone.

One of them let out a shaky breath. “That was weird.”

Another nodded. “Yeah… but it makes sense, I guess. She’s… she’s different.”

A silence settled over the group, and for the first time, some of them began to realize something they hadn’t considered before.

Aurora Jaeger wasn’t just Eren’s wife.

She was someone who had an undeniable influence over him. The way he had softened with her, the way he had carried her away from their drills without a second thought—it was clear that no matter how hardened Eren was, Aurora was the one person who could pull him back from the abyss.

And that, more than anything else, left an unsettling thought lingering in the minds of the recruits.

If something ever happened to her… what would become of Eren Jaeger then?

Meanwhile, Eren carried Aurora into their bedroom, the door creaking softly as he kicked it open. His hold on her was firm yet impossibly gentle, as if she were the most precious thing in the world, something he had to protect at all costs. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he walked with purpose, his arms tightening around her just the slightest bit.

“Aren’t you being a little dramatic?” Aurora huffed, shifting in his grasp, though she didn’t actually try to escape.

Eren ignored her completely as he stepped forward and carefully set her down on their bed. His hands lingered, steadying her for a moment, his thumbs brushing against the softness of her waist. He looked at her for a long second, his expression unreadable, but there was something intense in the way his emerald eyes bore into her—something possessive, protective.

“You’re staying here,” he finally said, his voice brokering no argument. “And you’re going to rest.”

Aurora scoffed, crossing her arms. “I wasn’t even tired—”

She never got to finish the sentence.

Before she could so much as blink, Eren leaned down and crushed his lips against hers.

Aurora gasped against his mouth, her entire body tensing in shock. But Eren wasn’t giving her a chance to argue, wasn’t giving her space to breathe. His lips moved over hers with a hunger that sent a fire coursing through her veins, a desperate kind of urgency that made her forget every single thought in her head. His hands slid up her body, one gripping the side of her neck, fingers threading into the soft strands of her platinum hair as he tilted her head back, deepening the kiss.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle.

It was raw, overwhelming, like he was pouring everything he felt into her—his love, his frustration, his desperation to keep her safe.

Aurora’s breath hitched as his tongue swept against hers, slow and deliberate, claiming her completely. A soft, helpless sound escaped her throat, and Eren swallowed it greedily, his grip on her tightening, pulling her closer like he couldn’t stand to have even an inch of space between them.

His teeth grazed her bottom lip, nipping just enough to make her gasp before soothing the spot with another slow, intoxicating stroke of his tongue. It was dizzying. Mind-numbing. She couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except melt into him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Eren groaned into her mouth, a low, deep sound of approval, and the vibration of it sent shivers down her spine. He was relentless, not letting up for a second, stealing every breath she had, every ounce of strength, until her body was pliant in his hands, trembling under his touch.

Aurora didn’t know how long the kiss lasted—seconds, minutes, eternity—but by the time Eren finally pulled back, her lungs were burning, her entire body flushed with heat. She was left breathless, her lips tingling, swollen from the intensity of his touch.

When she opened her eyes, she found Eren staring at her, his expression smug and far too satisfied with himself.

“Still want to argue with me?” he murmured, his voice husky, laced with amusement.

Aurora blinked up at him, dazed, her mind struggling to catch up. “You…” she started, then scowled as she realized she had completely lost her train of thought. “That… That was dirty.”

Eren smirked, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip, admiring the way it was already puffy from his kisses. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Aurora glared at him, her cheeks still burning. “You’re manipulative.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back. “Which is why I have to make sure you listen.”

Aurora exhaled sharply, still trying to steady her breath. “I was listening.”

Eren arched a brow. “Yeah? And what was I saying?”

Aurora’s lips parted, but no words came out. Damn it. She had completely forgotten.

Eren chuckled, the sound deep and satisfied. “Exactly.”

He leaned in again, pressing one last lingering kiss to her forehead before pulling away completely. Aurora expected him to climb into bed beside her, to wrap her up in his arms like he always did, but instead, he straightened, taking a step back.

“I have to get back to training,” he told her, his voice softer now, but still firm. “I’ll come back when I’m done.”

Aurora frowned. “You just carried me all the way here to make me rest, and now you’re leaving?”

Eren smirked. “Because you need to rest. I don’t.”

She huffed. “You need rest just as much as I do.”

Eren shrugged, not bothering to argue. Instead, he bent down and brushed another quick kiss against her lips, much softer this time, but just as possessive.

“Stay put,” he murmured against her mouth. “I’ll be back soon.”

Aurora sighed, watching as he turned and headed for the door.

She still hated the idea of him overexerting himself, but at least he had gotten her to actually lie down. She supposed that was a victory in his eyes.

Still, as he disappeared through the doorway, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she already missed him.

…

A few hours passed and Aurora shifted restlessly in bed, staring at the ceiling as the dim candlelight flickered against the walls. Sleep refused to come, no matter how much she willed herself to relax. She sighed, rubbing a hand over her belly, feeling the faint, rhythmic kicks of her child. It was comforting, but it didn’t settle the unease gnawing at her chest. Eren wasn’t back yet, and even though she knew he would be fine, she couldn’t stop herself from worrying.

Frustrated, she sat up, throwing the blankets off her legs. Maybe she just needed to keep herself busy. That always worked when her mind was too loud.

Slipping off the bed, Aurora padded quietly across the room and began tidying up. She reorganized their things, folding clothes, straightening the pillows, and dusting off the nightstand. Eventually, she found herself at the small bookshelf tucked in the corner of their bedroom. The wooden shelf was slightly worn, its contents a mixture of old books, some of which she recognized as Historia’s.

Her fingers traced over the spines, stopping on a particularly aged book with a delicate leather cover. The title was faintly imprinted in gold, nearly faded with time. She pulled it out, feeling the weight of it in her hands, the edges of the pages slightly frayed. Something about it drew her in.

Curious, she made her way to the balcony, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders as she stepped into the cool night air. The moon hung high, bathing the Jaegerist compound in a soft silver glow. Below, she could see the recruits still training, their movements sharp and disciplined under the watchful eyes of the senior soldiers.

Settling into the rocking chair, she adjusted her shawl, pulling it tighter around her body before opening the book.

The first page revealed the name Krista Lenz.

Aurora tilted her head, intrigued. The name felt oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place why.

As she read, the story unfolded before her—a tale of a girl who was pure of heart, selfless beyond measure, someone who always put others before herself, even at the cost of her own happiness. Krista was kind, gentle, and willing to bear any burden if it meant easing the suffering of others. She was praised for her virtue, admired for her unwavering compassion.

Aurora turned the pages, engrossed. But the more she read, the deeper an unsettling feeling bloomed inside her.

She saw too much of herself in this girl.

Krista reminded her of who she used to be in Marley—before everything changed.

Back then, Aurora had been soft, docile, obedient. A servant girl who always did as she was told, who never spoke out of turn, who smiled even when her heart ached. She had spent years serving the Tybur family, catering to their every need, always making herself small, quiet, agreeable. It wasn’t just because she had to—it was because she had believed it was the right thing to do.

She had convinced herself that her suffering didn’t matter, that as long as she was useful, as long as she kept others happy, then her existence had value.

Aurora swallowed thickly, gripping the book tighter.

She had spent so long trying to be perfect, trying to be good.

Trying to be like Krista.

And yet, in the end, it hadn’t mattered. The Tyburs still treated her like a disposable tool, an object they could discard when she was no longer convenient. She had been used, discarded, betrayed. It wasn’t kindness that saved her. It wasn’t selflessness. It was Eren. It was the rage she had buried deep inside her for so many years, the fury that finally broke free the day he pulled her out of that golden cage.

Her fingers trembled as she turned another page.

Krista suffered. She endured. She gave everything for others.

But was she ever truly free?

Aurora exhaled, closing the book and pressing it against her lap. The wind blew gently, tousling strands of her platinum hair as she stared out at the horizon, lost in thought.

Something about this story didn’t sit right with her.

It was too perfect, too idealistic, too… romanticized.

Her gut told her there was more to this tale—something hidden beneath the flowery words and moral lessons.

And then, a shiver ran down her spine.

It was faint, barely there, but she felt it.

A presence.

Watching. Observing.

Her grip tightened on the book as her pulse quickened.

Ymir.

Aurora wasn’t sure how she knew, but she knew. It was the same feeling she always got when the Founder’s presence lingered near her—something ancient, something beyond comprehension, something that existed in the spaces between reality and dreams.

She had been feeling it more often lately, as if the Founder was watching her more closely than before.

And for the first time, Aurora wondered if Ymir had something to do with this book.

Her fingers ghosted over the cover, tracing the name Krista Lenz.

Who was she really?

And why did this story feel like something more than just a simple tale?

Aurora continued to turn the pages slowly, her fingers trailing over the delicate, aged parchment. The book had been filled with poetic descriptions of Krista Lenz, a girl of virtue and selflessness, but as she neared the end, something entirely different caught her attention.

An illustration.

Unlike the neat lines of text that filled the previous pages, this was the only drawing in the entire book. It was striking, unsettling even. Her ice-blue eyes widened as she took in the eerie details.

On the left page, a monstrous, grotesque figure loomed, hunched over with thick sinewy muscles twisting beneath its exposed flesh. Its face was contorted into a terrifying grin, rows of sharp teeth bared, its deep-set eyes brimming with something ancient and relentless. Its long, clawed fingers stretched out, and in its palm dangled a small lantern.

Aurora's stomach twisted.

A Titan?

It had to be a depiction of one of the early Titans, one of the first ever created. But why was it here? What did this have to do with Krista Lenz?

Her gaze shifted to the right page.

A girl.

Dressed in a flowing, modest dress, her long hair cascading down her back in soft waves. Her hands were stretched outward, as if offering herself—or surrendering—to the figure across from her. There was something delicate about her stance, yet something deeply unsettling as well.

Aurora's breath caught in her throat.

Something about the hooded figure standing before Krista made her blood run cold.

It wasn’t just that the figure was covered in a dark hood. It was something more.

Something familiar.

She didn’t know why, but every nerve in her body screamed that she had seen this posture before. The way the figure stood, its form rigid, slightly hunched as though carrying a weight too heavy to bear. The quiet yet commanding presence. The looming aura of something inevitable.

Her fingers trembled as she reached out, grazing the figure on the page as her mind raced.

Why does this… remind me of Eren?

The thought came unbidden, but once it was there, she couldn’t shake it.

If Krista was meant to represent the perfect, selfless girl… then who was this?

Before Aurora could even process another thought, the world around her shifted.

The ground beneath her vanished, the cool night air was ripped away, and suddenly—she was falling.

Aurora’s breath caught in her throat as her vision went black, weightlessness overtaking her. But then, just as quickly, her feet landed against something solid. The sensation was strange—like stepping onto soft sand, yet there was no dust, no movement, no wind.

Just silence.

She gasped, her hands darting out instinctively as she tried to steady herself, her eyes darting around in confusion.

A vast, endless expanse stretched before her. The sky was a void—neither day nor night, just an infinite horizon that stretched forever in a muted blue hue. The sand beneath her feet was pale and lifeless, like powdered bone, and in the distance, the towering branches of an enormous tree loomed, its roots sprawling endlessly in every direction.

Aurora’s heart pounded in her chest.

She knew this place.

She had been here before.

The Paths.

A low, shuddering breath escaped her lips as she turned her head.

And then she saw her.

Ymir.

The founder.

Standing directly in front of her.

Aurora’s breath hitched, her fingers curling at her sides.

The girl was small, barefoot, dressed in a tattered linen gown that hung loosely off her frail frame. Her face was expressionless, her sunken eyes vacant, hollow—like looking into an abyss that had long since been emptied of hope.

A chill ran down Aurora’s spine as she met that unblinking gaze.

The Paths were not a place she ever chose to come to. Ymir always pulled her in, always summoned her without warning. But why now?

Why after seeing that illustration?

Aurora swallowed, forcing herself to speak, her voice barely a whisper.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Aurora's heart pounded in her chest as she stared at Ymir’s hollow, sunken eyes. The air in the Paths was thick with silence, pressing down on her, making every sound feel insignificant, swallowed by the vast emptiness.

She took a shaky breath, steadying herself on her feet. The pale sand beneath her felt weightless, as if she wasn’t standing on solid ground but floating in an endless void. And yet, Ymir stood there, still as a statue, watching her with an expression that wasn’t quite blank, yet wasn’t quite there either.

Aurora swallowed, forcing herself to speak.

"Why did you bring me here?" she repeated, her voice quiet but firm.

No answer.

Ymir simply stared, unblinking, her face unreadable.

Aurora took a step forward. "Ymir… why? Why did you summon me?"

Still, nothing.

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Ymir’s presence was overwhelming, but not in a menacing way—it was eerie, unsettling. She was ancient, a relic of suffering and history so vast that Aurora couldn’t even begin to fathom what she had endured.

She clenched her fists. "What do you want from me?"

Nothing.

No words. No gestures. No indication that Ymir even acknowledged her words.

Aurora’s frustration bubbled beneath her skin, but she forced herself to remain calm. There was no use in getting angry—not with someone like Ymir, someone who had existed in this liminal space for over two thousand years, building Titans with her bare hands, bound to a fate she never chose.

Then, something clicked in Aurora’s mind.

Asking questions directly wasn’t working. Ymir had never spoken before, at least not in any way that anyone could understand. If she wasn’t answering, maybe it wasn’t because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t.

Aurora took a deep breath and changed her approach.

“…Thank you,” she said softly.

The words felt strange leaving her lips, not because she didn’t mean them, but because she had never imagined herself thanking someone as enigmatic and terrifying as Ymir Fritz. But she was grateful. No matter what Ymir’s reasons were, she had helped her before.

Aurora’s voice was steadier as she continued. "Back when those Titans attacked… when the fire was spreading and we were trapped… you helped me. If you hadn’t appeared, if you hadn’t shown me the way out, Historia and the Azumabitos—we would’ve all burned alive. You saved us."

She studied Ymir carefully, watching for any reaction.

For a long moment, there was nothing.

Then—just the faintest twitch.

Aurora’s breath hitched.

Ymir’s lips moved. Barely. It was almost imperceptible, but Aurora saw it. A tiny, fleeting movement. Her fingers, which had been stiff and unmoving, curled ever so slightly, as if something within her had stirred.

It wasn’t much.

But it was something.

Aurora took a careful step closer. "You can hear me, can’t you?"

Ymir didn’t respond, but she didn’t look away either.

Aurora exhaled, feeling the weight of the moment press against her chest. She didn’t know what this meant, but she knew one thing—she wasn’t imagining this. Ymir had reacted to her words. For the first time, the ancient girl who had built the Titans with her own hands had acknowledged her.

And Aurora had a feeling that meant something far greater than she could possibly understand.

Her breath was slow and deliberate as she inched closer, careful not to startle Ymir. The way she stood there, motionless, expression hollow, reminded Aurora of a wounded animal—one that had long since stopped fighting back.

She hesitated for a moment, then extended her hand.

"Ymir…" her voice was soft, cautious. "It's okay."

Ymir didn’t react. Not at first. Her fingers twitched again, a barely-there movement, but Aurora saw it.

Encouraged, she continued. "I just want to hold your hand."

For a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in Ymir’s empty eyes. It wasn’t emotion, not exactly, but a glimmer of something just beneath the surface, buried deep.

Aurora kept her movements slow and steady as she reached forward. Ymir’s hand twitched once more, then went still.

She took that as permission.

Her fingers wrapped gently around Ymir’s hand, and the instant they touched, a deep, suffocating chill shot through her.

Aurora gasped.

It was unlike anything she had ever felt before—not just cold, but something more, something ancient. It was as if she could feel the weight of two thousand years of suffering pressing into her skin, sinking into her very bones.

Ymir’s hand was small and delicate, but it felt lifeless, as if it had been drained of warmth long ago.

Aurora squeezed it gently, cradling it between her own hands.

"You're not alone," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Not anymore."

And then she saw it.

A single tear.

Aurora’s breath hitched as she watched it slip down Ymir’s pale cheek.

She was crying.

The realization sent a sharp pang through Aurora’s chest.

For two thousand years, Ymir had been alone, forced to obey, forced to serve. No one had ever reached out to her—not with kindness, not with warmth. She had been used, discarded, treated as nothing more than a tool, a vessel.

And now, for the first time in centuries, someone was touching her.

Not to command her.

Not to hurt her.

But to comfort her.

Aurora swallowed past the lump in her throat. She lifted her other hand and, hesitantly, brushed away the tear from Ymir’s cheek with her thumb.

Ymir flinched at the contact. It was barely noticeable, but Aurora felt it.

Still, she didn’t let go.

"You’ve been alone for so long," Aurora murmured, her own voice thick with emotion. "Haven’t you?"

Ymir still didn’t speak. But she didn’t pull away, either.

Aurora tightened her grip slightly, just enough to reassure her. "You don’t have to be anymore."

More tears followed.

They slipped down Ymir’s face in slow, silent streams, as if they had been locked away for centuries and were only now finding their way out.

Aurora couldn’t stop her own tears from welling up. She didn’t even know why she was crying, but something about Ymir—about this moment—felt so unbearably heavy.

For so long, she had thought of Ymir as some distant, untouchable entity. The Founder. The one who shaped the Titans. A being of legend, of myth.

But standing here now, holding her trembling hand, she didn’t see a god.

She saw a girl.

A lonely, broken girl who had suffered more than anyone ever should.

Aurora exhaled shakily. "It’s okay to cry," she whispered. "You don’t have to be strong all the time."

Ymir closed her eyes, and for the first time since Aurora arrived, she moved.

Slowly, hesitantly, she turned her hand over and gripped Aurora’s in return.

Aurora’s heart clenched.

It was the smallest gesture, but it meant everything.

She squeezed back, her fingers wrapping securely around Ymir’s.

"You’re not alone," she repeated, her voice barely above a breath.

For the first time, Ymir Fritz looked at her—not just an empty, hollow stare, but something deeper.

Something raw.

Something human.

But then, Aurora’s heart clenched when Ymir suddenly pulled away from her grasp, retreating as if the fragile moment they had shared had never happened. The warmth—or rather, the lack of it—that had lingered in Aurora’s palm faded almost immediately.

"Ymir?" she called softly, stepping forward again, hesitant.

But Ymir didn’t look at her.

Aurora watched, perplexed, as a small wooden bucket materialized at Ymir’s feet. Without hesitation, the ancient girl knelt on the vast, endless plane of sand and began to scoop and shape it with her bare hands.

At first, Aurora thought she was simply building some kind of structure—perhaps a wall, a home, something small and insignificant.

But then she noticed the strange precision in Ymir’s movements. The way her hands worked with methodical efficiency, sculpting something much larger than what Aurora first assumed.

Aurora frowned. "What are you—"

She blinked.

And in the time it took for her eyes to close and reopen, the small pile of sand had transformed into something enormous.

A titan.

Aurora’s breath hitched.

What the hell?

She stepped back, her pulse quickening as her gaze trailed up the massive figure Ymir had built in what felt like a single instant. The details were too precise, the structure too perfect. It was as if she had spent years constructing it—except she hadn’t.

Aurora shook her head, trying to dispel the disorienting sensation creeping up her spine.

Time worked strangely in the Paths. She had felt it before, but this—this was something else entirely.

A minute ago, Ymir had barely started.

Now there was a completed titan standing in the sand before them.

Aurora turned to Ymir, still kneeling, still building. The girl’s hands worked tirelessly, scooping up more sand, molding, shaping—creating.

Aurora’s stomach churned.

This wasn’t just any titan.

This was real.

She could feel it, somehow, deep within her bones. This titan was forming somewhere in the real world right now.

"Ymir, stop!" Aurora tried again, louder this time. She took a step forward, reaching for her, but Ymir ignored her completely.

She kept building.

Aurora’s chest tightened. "Ymir, please—look at me!"

No response.

Nothing but the sound of shifting sand, of hands working, of creation in motion.

Aurora could feel herself slipping—losing all sense of time, of space. Had it been minutes? Hours? Years? She felt lightheaded, like she had been here forever, watching Ymir build, and build, and build.

She gritted her teeth. This isn’t real. It’s only been a few minutes. It’s just the Paths messing with you.

Still, she couldn’t shake the unsettling sensation crawling beneath her skin.

She tried again. "Ymir—"

Before she could finish, a violent force ripped through her body.

Her vision blurred, her breath caught in her throat, and suddenly—

She was falling.

Aurora gasped, clutching the arms of her rocking chair as she was yanked back into reality with a force so strong it made her stomach lurch.

She sucked in a sharp breath, heart hammering wildly against her ribs.

She was back.

The wooden balcony beneath her feet. The cool night air. The book still resting in her lap, its worn pages open to the illustration that had started all of this.

Aurora’s hands trembled as she pressed them against the book, her fingers tightening around the edges of the paper.

What the hell had just happened?

Had that been real? Had she truly been in the Paths again?

She swallowed thickly, her mind racing to process everything she had seen.

Ymir had been there. She had touched her. And then—then she had started building.

Aurora’s breath hitched as the realization settled in.

Ymir had been building titans.

And if she had been doing that in the Paths, that could only mean—

Aurora’s stomach twisted violently.

Somewhere, in the real world, titans were being created right now.

…

Far across the sea, in the depths of Marley’s internment zone, screams rang out into the night.

Prisoners—men, women, and children—scrambled in terror as a monstrous roar tore through the silence.

A titan’s body sprung up from a Subject of Ymir, its massive frame rising from within the confines of the prison walls, eyes burning with mindless hunger.

A dozen more followed.

Guards fled. Civilians cried out.

And standing atop the highest wall, watching it all unfold, was Zeke Jaeger.

He stood with his hands tucked behind his back, his face void of emotion as he observed the chaos below.

He had screamed only moments ago. And now, before him, the result of his command was unfolding perfectly.

The Eldian prisoners—those who had dared to escape, who had dared to defy Marley—were now being torn apart by their own kind.

It was almost poetic.

Zeke exhaled through his nose, watching as the first titan lunged forward, seizing a screaming man between its massive fingers before crunching down on his body with brutal force.

Blood splattered across the dirt.

More screams followed.

And all the while, Zeke’s expression remained eerily neutral.

This was necessary.

A sacrifice for the greater good.

He turned his gaze upward, staring at the night sky as if searching for something unseen.

Somewhere, beyond the stars, beyond time itself, he knew Ymir Fritz was watching.

And he knew she was obeying.

The same way she always did.

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