#waiting in the freezing dark chapter 8

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Soldier Of Death (8)- Tour

Natasha Romanoff X Super Soldier Reader 18+

Summary: Soldat Smerti. The Soldier of Death. You were the perfect weapon: loyal, obedient, and merciless, or so Hydra thought. What happens when these traits are put to the test? Your captivity in the Avenger's tower and the presence of a redhead makes you realise you didn't have to be a monster. The question was though; Did Hydra make you the monster or were you always one?

This fic will contains dark themes. Please read these warnings before starting any of these chapters: graphic descriptions of murder, violence, gore and torture, heavy angst, mental issues.

Please consider these warnings before reading

Word Count: 2.9k

General Masterlist | The Soldier Of Death Masterlist

Chapter Warning: Dark thoughts, anxiety, flashbacks to torture/experimenting

—

The sound of your boots echoed in the quiet hallway, Natasha's steps quieter as she walked behind you, navigating you through the compound towards your new room. You didn't like the idea of her walking behind you, thoughts naturally becoming paranoid that she was going to hurt you in some way, that this was all a big trick and you were going to be taken to a new cell to rot in, but you tried to keep them at bay as there was an odd feeling of trust between you two.

Your body language emphasised your tenseness, Natasha being able to see you trying to look at her in your peripheral vision as she strolled behind you, allowing her to be able to guess your thoughts. She increased her pace a little, now walking next to you causing your body to almost instantly relax, her lips tugging into a minute smile at how the worry and caution almost flowed out of your body.

"This is it," she says, voice light-hearted and calm as she opens the door for you, eyes widening at the sheer size of the room. Green eyes met yours with curiosity as your gaze flickered to Natasha, trying to get a read on her before you broke the lingering stare, scanning the room swiftly and waiting for her to step in first.

She understood your caution, knowing how you must feel as she remembers how paranoid she was when she first joined Shield, Clint trying to get her to open up as she remained rather silent with him until their trust built, eventually being able to be open enough to the man to get to know him properly and spark their long lasting friendship.

Your eyes continue to take in the room as you step in after her, a little overwhelmed by the contrast between your cell and here. The bed was almost as big as your entire cell, your hand reaching out to brush against the soft fabric of the sheet, your head tilting in curiosity at how something could feel so soft. You applied a little more pressure with your hand, feeling how firm the mattress was and almost pulling away in surprise at how easily your hand sunk into the memory foam, expecting it to be hard and firm.

Natasha let the room sit in a comfortable silence as she watched you explore the room bit by bit, testing out what things were and what they felt like, her soft gaze catching your quizzical one as you would occasionally turn back to look at her, almost checking to see if she was still actually there. She'd smile back reassuringly every time, giving you the freedom of controlling how long you spent here to get to grips with the new change, knowing that it would definitely take you some time to adjust.

She showed you that you had your own bathroom, quickly informing you of the shower controls so that you wouldn't accidentally end up in freezing or boiling water, your form seemingly distracted as you continued to stare at the large mirror against the other wall. 

Natasha observed how your behaviour changed drastically at seeing your reflection. Your eyes would become distant and despondent, jaw clenching with frustration as you stared ahead, that dangerous glint resurfacing before fading away almost instantly, your head abruptly turning away from the mirror, her concerned eyes burning into the back of your head as you refused to face her.

You left the bathroom after that, not caring about anything else in there and moved to stand in front of the large window that you hadn't properly admired yet, too busy checking everything else out.

The view mirrored the one from the main room earlier, the vast amounts of nature calming to you, the sight showing you that you weren't trapped anymore.

"I'm sorry" you whisper, keeping your gaze on the picturesque landscape, not turning your head to the side to look at Natasha who just stood by you, her gaze also admiring the beauty of outside. Her brows furrowed momentarily at your words, her head tilting to get a better look at your conflicted state. "I don't mean to seem ungrateful, I'm just..." your words trail off, unsure of what you were feeling. You were a mix of fear and excitement, unnerved and overwhelmed but ready to be free from Hydra, just not quite sure how to live without them.

"Overwhelmed?" her voice gentle and soft, your head nodding at her words. "It will take a while to get used to, but hopefully you'll enjoy it here," you smile at her words, turning your head to meet her tender gaze, trying to convey how grateful you were to her for helping you.

"Thank you Natasha," you murmur and the redhead can't help but feel the warmth enveloping her chest at your genuine tone, the way her name falls off your tongue as you smile at her again. She matched the small smile on your face, revelling in being able to get you to express some sort of happiness.

"What's your favourite part of the room?" She asks to brighten the mood, her tone soft and light-hearted as she sends you a more playful smile, curious of your thoughts.

"The window," you say without hesitation, turning back to look outside. "I've... I've never had one before. The view, it's calming," she looks at you in understanding, her eyes staying trained on you rather than the phenomenal view outside.

"Remind me to take you to the roof later, the view up there is stunning when the sun sets," her words pique your interest, reluctantly turning your body away from the glass and towards the door, waiting for her to continue the tour.

***

You smiled again for what felt like the hundredth time at something the redhead said to you, your mind amazed at feeling so happy for once, Natasha's humour sarcastic and easily amusing to you, her eyes lingering on yours when you chuckled quietly when she teased Clint, the man telling you that he forgave you for knocking him out to which you shyly accepted, not used to such kindness.

You were then shown the kitchen, then the other small common room where you met Wanda again, your gaze not meeting hers as you feared she knew the real you, having been inside your fracture mind, the younger woman signalling to Nat that is was ok to not have a proper introduction, her quickly leading you away to other areas of the compound.

You had gotten to the point where you had seen practically everything but the medical bay and the training room, Natasha informing you that it was time to do a quick medical of you before a quick training session to evaluate your strengths and weaknesses as well as basic weaponry skills.

You could hear your pounding heartbeat ringing painfully in your ears as you slowed your pace, the white walls and sounds of machines beeping creating panic to rise within you, painful memories entering your mind as you neared the dreaded medical area.

Screams echoed around the concrete corridors nearby, sob after sob being ripped out of your throat at the searing pain in your blood, the restraints on your wrists and ankles pinning you down forcefully to the metal table, your blood smearing across the metallic surface as you desperately tried to escape the pain.

A rough hand would always trap your head down, firmly holding your head back as another needle would roughly enter a vein, more serum being pumped into your body, the scientists in dire need of finding a correct formula in time.

Another harsh scream was brutally torn out of you, the pain incessant as it partly burnt you from the inside, tears spilling from your eyes as your small body still persisted in trying to fight.

"Y/n?" Natasha softly called, eyes filled with concern at how you stopped, eyes overflowing with fear as you couldn't mask your emotions, the emotion taking over your entire body as you stood frozen on the spot.

"I can't," your voice barely a whisper, looking further down the corridor, the white flickering into the concrete walls with dried blood splattered on them, the imprints of your hands clawing away at the stone there before you blinked, the view fading back into the pristine white.

"I'll be there with you the whole time, nothing bad will happen to you, I promise you," she encourages gently, her eyes full of hope as she lets you make up your mind, not pushing you to rush your decision. She waits, watching how your mouth opens to say something, lip trembling briefly before you close your mouth, letting out a shaky breath instead of saying anything.

You slowly continue with her through the corridor, focussing on the sound of her steady heartbeat instead of your deafening one, the consistent beating calming compared to your erratic one.

She guides you into a chair, a woman coming over and explaining what she was going to do to you, checking your pulse and temperature, measuring your height and weight, making an observation of your eyes as she checked for any abnormalities with your health, smiling to you as you kept your gaze on Natasha who sat behind her, focussing on her rather than the gloved hands on the side of your face.

You hesitated when the woman asked you to remove your shirt, wanting to check for any infected wounds or muscle related issues, your mind not processing her scientific explanation of everything as you weren't well educated on anything medical. You removed the black t-shirt you had been given in a shy manner, sitting back down in just the sports bra you were given and black joggers, not meeting anyone's gaze as they scanned over your body.

Scars were littered all over you from before the serum finally worked, allowing all fresh wounds to heal at an increased rate, the old wounds left to linger on your skin and remind you of the traumatic events though. You gathered enough courage to look back at Natasha and smiled weakly at her, her eyes refusing to leave your face in respect for you as the woman continued her tests.

After an X ray and some other scan test, you were brought back to the chair, the kind woman informing Natasha she was going to get another doctor to do your blood tests as she assessed her results of you, your mind becoming impatient as you were left to wait, the darkness creeping up to torment you and spark doubt within your mind.

They're using you again.

They're going to use us again and make us into their weapon. I thought you wanted to be free Soldat?

"Are you alright?" Natasha asks, voice a gentle murmur as she rests her head against her palm, arm braced on the table next to her as she observes your reactions to all the tests, noticing the fear you would possess whenever the doctor went near your temples or anywhere you could enter a needle.

"I just want this to be over," you mutter back, sort of answering her question as she offers you a sympathetic smile, noticing your clear discomfort.

Before Natasha could respond, the other doctor entered, a smile on the man's lips as he looked between Natasha and yourself, his eyes widening in almost disbelief at the sight of you, your gaze going cold and hard as you recognised the man's snow white hair and scarred eyebrow, you just weren't sure where from.

He let out a nervous chuckle, Natasha watching with interest at your switch in demeanour, the man reaching over to grab a needle, needing to take a blood sample.

"Silent Soldat," he grits out, forcing your head back against the machine, a rough strap tied around your head to keep you in place, the mouth guard failing in muffling your desperate cries for help. "You should be thanking us," he mutters, brushing some of his pure white hair out of his eyes, irritated by the pained whimpers you let out when he lifts your shirt up, finding a vein to enter another needle into. "It's because of us that you're alive, that you're powerful, show us some respect Soldat," he spits out, injecting more serum into your veins, the same primal reaction being ripped out of you.

As soon as he steps within distance of you, your hand is wrapped tightly around his throat, eyes overflowing with malice as your grip increases, forcing his body against the nearest wall, not caring at whatever equipment was knocked over, smashing on the floor.

Kill him.

The darkness screams, your grip increasing even more, the man choking as he struggles for breath, his hands clawing at your forearms, nails digging in but you don't flinch, relishing in the fear in his eyes.

"Y/n, let him go," Natasha says, voice calm and collected but you can hear how her heartbeat increases, whether that was fear or adrenaline, you weren't sure. All you knew was that you didn't want to let him go. 

"You don't want to do this, you don't want to hurt him," her hand cautiously meets your arm that's pinning the man against the wall, her soft skin trailing down your arm in a delicate manner, her eyes searching yours as you reluctantly turn away from the man's face, which was turning a bright shade of red. The venom in your eyes dissipated when you met her eyes, grip faltering as you wanted to listen to her, the darkness winning the battle at the moment as your grip was still relatively tight.

"He deserves it," you say, her brows furrowing at the anger behind your voice, as if it weren't you even saying the words, her hand eventually reaching yours against his throat.

"He doesn't," she says, not even knowing the man and assuming his innocence. "Let him go, please," her eyes bore into yours, the hope slowly convincing you, your fingers loosening enough for the man to fall to the floor, coughing and spluttering as he tries to catch his breath, her hands skimming back down your arm as you look away from her, unsure of how to feel.

You turn away from her and return to your seat, running your hands over your face, muttering something in Russian to yourself, Natasha not able to hear what you were saying as she checks up on the man, telling him to leave after asking what he needed from you, offering to do it for him. He almost scurries away, a clear glint of terror in his eyes as he back away from you.

"Hey," she practically coos when returning you, interrupting your rambling and causing you to lift your head, conflict evident in your expression. "What happened?" her eyes flicker between yours, wanting some sort of answer but she's met with hesitance as you fight on whether to tell her the truth.

"I...," you chose against telling her the full truth, not wanting her to be able to hold that against you in the future "I hate needles," you mutter, her accepting your unconvincing answer, her gaze moving over to the needle that the doctor acquired.

"I'm sorry, but we need to do a blood sample," she whispers, her tone apologetic as she can see the distress it's causing you. "Would you trust me to do it?" she asks cautiously, your eyes flicking down to the scars on your inner arm, her gaze following yours, a heavy weight pulling down on her heart at what you must have been through.

"I don't want to hurt you," you mumble, scared you're going to lose control again, not wanting to take it out on her unnecessarily, "I don't want to lose control."

Her lips form a thin line as she thinks, "If I go slow, and we do it together, do you think you'll be ok?" You nod after considering her words, her hands going to the equipment, slowly moving and letting you watch what she does.

She's only done this a couple times, the redhead trying her best to refresh her memory as she grabs a prep pad to clean the area, your leg bouncing anxiously as she grabs the needle with her other hand.

"Hey," she whispers, gaining your attention, "Keep your eyes on mine," she instructs and you listen without question. Your gaze remains fixated on the pools of green, your gaze occasionally wandering to her lips, her cheeks, her hair for a brief moment before returning to her eyes, watching how they flicker about as she takes the sample. "There we go, all done," you blink in confusion at how easy that was, Natasha letting out a small angelic laugh at your dumbfounded expression. "I told you nothing bad would happen to you," her tone a little teasing as she smiles at you, your eyes containing no more fear as you only focus on the woman opposite you, drowning out the darkness that tries to corrupt you.

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter, smiling shyly at her as she smirks at your words, already influencing your humour as you dismiss her playfully, just like she did to Sam earlier when you were both in the kitchen.

"Come on, the team's probably waiting for us in the training room," she says while standing up, motioning for you to walk with her towards the final part of your tour, ready to get it over with. 

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (13)

ー☆ Chapter 13: You Know Me Too Well

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing, usage of the word 'bitch' ー☆ Word count: 6.5k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Well, well, lovelies...new chapter is up and maybe I'm kind of kicking my feet??? Who knows, we'll see what y'all think of this chapter hehe. Also, happy birthday to Song Mingi?! I actually didn't mean to post the new chapter today, but today was the only day I had enough time to write it sooo, yeah. Tmi, but MC's mother is exactly like my mom, so maybe I drew inspiration from real life lol, I love her to death but sometimes I really wish SHE DIDNT SPEAK lol. Also, I'm so obsessed with today's song for the chapter; I'm screaming, crying, throwing up over it LOL. Just a heads up, next chapter is the last like actual chapter of the series and then I decided to add an epilogue lol cue the sobbing. As per usual, listen to You Know Me Too Well before or while reading the chapter! I hope you enjoy and let me know through feedback hehe <3 Enjoy your weekends! divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red

@sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng

@deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf

@hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss

@catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi @mingisbbg

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist���

            Saturday (2:55 pm)

Me: mingi can we talk?

Saturday (8:30 pm)

Me: i am free whenever you say so just let me know and i’ll be there

            Sunday (9:15 am)

Me: we need to talk, mingi.

            Sunday (12:08 am)

Me: please hear me out im sorry

Monday (current time)

            “Do you think he’ll slam the door in my face?” The hallways were buzzing with life as I tried to veer my way around the crowd of students without running into anyone. Today, out of all days, I just so happened to have my last class of the day in a completely different building and at least a good five-minute walk away from the arts building.

“It’s what you’d deserve, to be fair, but—” The was a gasp on the other side of the phone and my eyebrows furrowed as Seulgi muttered something to someone, muffled, “sorry, Wooyoung almost dropped my mother’s favorite vase, I told him to take off that blindfold.”

Eyebrows furrowing even deeper, I abruptly stopped walking, making a girl give me a heated glare that I didn’t care for, “Why is he blindfolded? Wait! I actually don’t want to know.”

���We were playing hide and seek with his niece, you idiot, but I got bored and sneaked away when I saw you calling.” Seulgi’s voice was exasperated and I chuckled as I took off again, leaving the science major’s building as I nuzzled further into my thick scarf. Some days it was warmer, but most days it got really cold and I hated it. I couldn’t deal with the freezing weather, perhaps it was my biggest enemy after Jeong Yunho, “Anyways, as I was saying, you deserve to be ignored by Mingi, but knowing how big of a sucker he is for you, he’ll probably give in before you can utter a single word.”

My heart jumped at the thought as I gnawed on my bottom lip, cutting off the path as I hurried through the grass, uncaring that I was probably destroying the work of the gardener. Besides, the grass had barely just started growing out again, it would be fine, “You think so?”

“I know so.” I heard Wooyoung’s high-pitched voice shouting from the distance and my eyebrows furrowed as I realized Seulgi had probably put me on speaker. Now that was a bit awkward, “He’s an idiot, but he’s in love. Now that I come to think of it, you two are a lot alike, two idiots in love—”

“I believe your niece is looking for you, babe.” Seulgi cut her boyfriend off and I was thankful because I don’t think I could’ve handled hearing him say the words ‘in love’ again. That was scary, even just the thought of it. I was barely coming to terms with liking Mingi, but hearing the word love sort of made me want to turn back around and abandon my whole plan of trying to make peace between the two of us. And Seulgi knew this, thankfully, because she didn’t say anything about it again, “Are you on your way to his studio right now?”

I hummed and curled my fingers tighter around the thermos bottle, my nose cold from the weather as the arts building finally came into sight, “Yeah, three minutes and I’m there.”

“Good.” Seulgi sounded content and I sighed as I tried to ignore the dawning anxiety that tried to crawl through my body and make me abandon my well-thought-out plan. I had to do this. Seulgi and my mom were right, I couldn’t mess this up again. I liked Mingi, a lot. He is a good guy and I shouldn’t let my past and my fears dictate my life. Yes, Mingi is Yunho’s best friend, but Mingi isn’t like Yunho. Hopefully, “Update me later then, I love you Y/N, I hope you know that.”

I chuckled and nodded at the security guard as he was out of his cubicle, standing at the bottom of the steps, smoking his cigar, “I know, thank you for knocking some sense into me.”

“We’ll see about that later.” Her snort was amused and I shook my head as we said our goodbyes, the warmth of the building making me sigh out in relief as I entered through the front doors. I pocketed my phone and unwrapped my scarf from around my neck, greeting the familiar people I crossed paths with. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling nervous at all, after all, I didn’t know how Mingi would react. If he was anything like me, he wouldn’t forgive me so easily. Not when I’ve hurt him again and in the worst way possible.

As I ascended the marble stairs, I found stability in the thermos bottle clutched firmly in both of my hands now, its weight helping me to keep my determination and focus on going through with my own plan. When I woke this morning and went to take a quick shower, I was surprised to hear my mother’s singing and smell the delicious waft of pancakes, making my stomach growl loudly as I didn’t have dinner the night before. It seemed like my mother had taken a day off, grumbling something about her deserving a day to rest after she was almost choked out by one of her mentally ill patients. I couldn’t help but agree with her as we sat at the table in silence, enjoying our breakfast, that is until she cleared her throat loudly and stood up, fetching a mug and a cup from the counter next to the sink. I froze when I realized she was handing me the cup Mingi had designed with funny looking chicks on it, and I was even more confused when I realized it wasn’t coffee I was drinking, but hot chocolate.

“So, what are you going to do about that handsome fella?” I tried not to groan or regret the fact that I told her everything about Mingi. I took a tentative sip of the hot chocolate and realized it wasn’t hot before taking a bigger gulp as I enjoyed its sweet taste.

“I’ll talk to him today—”

“Great!” My mother didn’t even let me finish as she sprung up from her seat again to fetch something from a cupboard, “It’s amazing how strong our maternal intuition is, I swear my starlight, you should make some babies soon.”

“Mom.” I groaned as I watched her curiously as she took a blue thermos bottle from the cupboard and filled it with hot chocolate from the kettle, “We’ve had this discussion many times before, I’m not having children so young.”

“You’re not that young though.” She sent me a sheepish smile as my eyes widened, feigning hurt.

“I’m turning twenty-three?! How is that not young?” She cleared her throat as she sealed the thermos and walked back to the table to sit down.

“I’m just trying to inspire you, anyways,” She huffed and then placed the thermos on the table and pushed it towards me, “Bring this to him as peace offering, he’ll love it. Trust me.”

“I don’t think what Mingi needs right now is hot chocolate—”

“Finish your breakfast and shut up.” My mother didn’t let me finish as she cut off a thick part of the pancake with her fork and forced it inside my mouth, making me groan, “Mothers know best when it comes to stuff like this, be thankful I’m saving your relationship and be back before lunch. I’m ordering take out, and I certainly am not waiting for late your ass if I’m hungry.”

I knew fighting my mom was fruitless, so I just grumbled an okay as I tried to chew the pancake she had forced in my mouth, my cheeks all puffed out. My mother seemed content that I finally wasn’t talking back to her and I shook my head as I pulled the thermos bottle towards me, reminded of the time when Mingi had brought me tea knowing that I would be feeling probably a little sick after getting all soaked in the cold rain and harsh wind.

So, now, with Mingi’s clothes in my tote bag and the thermos filled with hot chocolate in my hands, I couldn’t help but feel optimistic despite the anxiety gripping at my thoughts. If my mother, Seulgi, and even Wooyoung—who knew Mingi like the back of his hand—were convinced that everything would work out just fine, then why would I not believe that? Sure, Mingi was probably still annoyed at me, but I didn’t think a few apologies and even more explanations couldn’t fix the issue at hand. All I had to do was be honest and come clean with my feelings and he’d probably do the same and then—that’s where anxiety stepped in. Then what? Was I ready to pursue a relationship? Did Mingi want to date me? Did I want to date him? Why did it have to be Jeong Yunho’s best friend I was into? Why could I not move past my fears and stop associating Mingi with everything I was wounded by, when he never once made me feel like Yunho did? I could dwell on these thoughts for an eternity, I fear, but I didn’t have that time right now. And to be fair, I didn’t want to think of such things right now because I could feel my determination wither the closer I got to the music majors’ floor, heartbeat loud in my ears.

I stopped at the end of the hallway and took a deep breath, eyes settling on the studio I knew now was used by Mingi only. Wooyoung was nice enough to tell me the number of his studio—not that I had forgotten since the last time I was here—and he also let me know that it was used by Mingi only, the teachers having granted him full access, even at hours when students were supposed to be at home. It seems so Mingi was a favorite amongst the teachers, and I could see why. He was diligent and hard-working; his lyrics were beautiful and nothing would stop him from fulfilling his dream of becoming a well-known rockstar. I couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of that, and hoped that I would be part of his journey, that he’d let me back into his life.

Steeling my nerves and trying to see the light at the end of the tunnel, I knew there was no turning back. I wanted to do this, I had to do this. I had to stop sabotaging myself, and so, I marched down the hallway towards Mingi’s studio with a newfound hope and determination. Which lasted about five seconds as I came face to face with Mingi’s studio door. There was a small window on it, which would let you know whether the room was occupied or not, and it was straight across the desk where he was sat at—with the blonde girl standing right next to him. And that should have been okay, because really, Mingi could talk to whoever and spend his time also with whoever he pleased. And it’s not like I didn’t have male friends—I didn’t, Seulgi was my only friend—it’s not like he couldn’t speak to one of his fans. After all, he’s made it clear she was nothing more than a fan he appreciated for helping spread the word about his band.

But then, why was her hand on his shoulder one second and the next second slowly trailing down the sleeve of his beige cardigan—which looked like it was messily stained with paint—and certainly the way my good disposal dissipated and was overtaken by blind jealousy and rage had nothing to do with the sudden possessiveness that shook me to my core. And perhaps the thing that bothered me the most wasn’t even her feeling up Mingi’s arm as she looked down at him with sultry eyes, perhaps it was the way Mingi leaned back in his chairs, legs spread wide, and smirk on his lips as he looked up at her with his sharp gaze, allowing her to touch him. Perhaps that’s what sent me over the edge as I barged inside the studio in the most unceremonious way, making the girl yelp in fright and Mingi flinch as his eyes widened.

『Baby, you're all that I want

I want you all to myself

Oh, but you know me too well���

And when I was angry—or panicking, or hurt—all rational thoughts flew out the window as I was led by nothing else but pure instinct and a shit ton of unclear and not so necessarily nice thoughts. Simpler put, I wasn’t thinking nor making sense, but I couldn’t care less as I glared at the both of them while I struggled to mask the fury licking at my veins. They were both looking at me wide eyed, as if I had caught them doing something I wasn’t supposed to, and that made me snap before I could think through how to proceed with this whole shitshow, “Get out.”

For a second, even I didn’t recognize my voice as it dropped a few octaves, fierce gaze set on the blonde girl as she paled, eyes scrambling between Mingi and me as, suddenly, Mingi seemed to snap out of whatever scare I had given him by slamming his door open and into the wall. God, I hope I haven’t actually damaged it, because I certainly didn’t have the money to pay for it right now. I couldn’t look at the blonde girl anymore, heart beating fast in my chest as Mingi and I made eye contact, his eyebrows set in a deep frown as he had a sneer on his face.

“Excuse me?” God, even her voice was annoying. I looked back at the blonde girl and raised my eyebrows at her mockingly.

“Are you deaf?” I chuckled, but it was humorless, “Do I need to repeat myself?”

She huffed, looking offended—rightfully so—and I gritted my teeth as I stepped inside the studio, making it pretty obvious that I wasn’t going anywhere before this bitch left. I tried not to see red as Mingi’s hands balled up into fists or the way the girl snickered, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“You’re the one that’s barged inside uninvited, sweetheart,” And if I could have, I would have ripped her blonde strands out, “this isn’t your fucking studio, so, shut up. Mingi wants me here, maybe you should leave.”

I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing, somewhere deep in my mind realizing I looked absolutely psychotic and if Mingi didn’t hate me before, he certainly would hate me now. I wasn’t helping myself; I was making everything worse—just the usual, then. But this bitch wasn’t stopping me from getting what I came here for, and I hummed as my eyes fell on Mingi again, who’s jaw was clenching and unclenching. His sharp eyes were narrowed, but it seemed like he wasn’t saying anything anytime soon and that only pissed me off more.

“Sure,” I nodded and walked further inside, forcefully throwing my tote bag on the small couch against the wall on my left, making the contents of it spill out. I watched as both Mingi and the girl looked at the clothes, and Mingi’s expression flashed with something unreadable for a second, “Mingi wants you here.”

I suppose neither expected me not to stop until I reached the desk, coming up on Mingi’s left side as I slammed the thermos bottle—albeit too harshly—against the desk, a loud bang echoing in the room. Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed as I opened my mouth to tell the girl to leave again, but suddenly, he was up on his feet, staring me down. The height difference wasn’t that great between the two of us, but suddenly I felt small under his heated glare and sneer that seemed to settle on his lips, broad shoulders intimidating as he lowered his head just a little bit. He looked nothing like the Mingi I had gotten to know over the past few months, and it made my heart race as I realized I might not be able to reason with him today, “What the fuck is your problem, Y/N?! You tell her to get out when you barge in unwelcomed, and then start demanding for her to leave—”

I couldn’t even let him finish his sentence before I was firing back my argument, “Oh, what’s my fucking problem?! Maybe the fact that you lied to me?”

“About what?!” Mingi snapped, eyebrows furrowed as he took a step towards me, his body big enough to make the blonde girl not be seen behind him.

“Oh, be for real.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes, “You never show anyone your songs to? But you so conveniently let me listen to that unfinished song of yours and now look who else gets to listen to it? Her. If you’re so desperate to get laid, you should have—”

“I didn’t show her shit.” Mingi cut me off, voice shaking as his cheeks grew red from anger, probably. Mingi wasn’t a scary person, but he looked scary right now. There was no ounce of kindness in his expression nor tone, he looked cold and angry and like he hated me. I gulped and realized, once again, that I was digging myself deeper into the shithole I had created for myself, that I was hurting him again and again. This is not how things were supposed to go, “I only showed you. That unfinished song you’re talking about, only you know about it. Thanks for reminding me again why I shouldn’t deal with you anymore—”

“Stop it.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing as I felt fear grip at my throat, making my voice sound shaky as Mingi’s expression went blank. I hated when he did that. I wanted to know what he was thinking about, I needed to see what he felt. I couldn’t do this if he withdrew himself, I couldn’t do this if I was the only one that would bare her heart to him. I was scared. He was pushing me away like Yunho had done, Mingi was abandoning me.

“Stop it?” If I wanted to cry when he laughed in my face mockingly, impassive smirk settling on his lips, I didn’t let it happen. I kept my composure, anger, hurt, desperation, yearning all mixing together as I found it harder and harder to breathe, “You want me to be nice to you after all the shit you said to me on Saturday? You want me to treat you like before after everything that’s happened? I can’t. You hurt me, made me feel like a fucking idiot, Y/N, you broke—I thought we were friends. I feel disrespected and played, and yet here you are again, acting like you have even an ounce of right to act the way you are right now, when it’s you who made it so fucking clear you want nothing to do with me anymore. Do you enjoy making others suffer? Do you want to see me on my fucking knees begging for your attention? I have enough self-respect to step back and move on with my life when someone so blatantly tells it to my face that I am nothing—”

“But you aren’t!” My tone raised without me meaning to as my heart continued to beat out of my chest so fast my ears started ringing. I felt tears prick at my eyes, but I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to victimize myself, I just wanted Mingi to understand I made a mistake, that I knew I did, and that I was trying to fix things. I didn’t want us to part ways, especially not like this, he made me realize this second that I didn’t want to lose him, “You aren’t nothing to me. I said those things because I’m scared. I don’t know how to navigate these feelings—”

“Save it, okay?” I was left gaping as Mingi shook his head, pushing his hands in the pockets of his light denim jeans, “I don’t want to hear whatever sob shit you have to say right now, I’m asking you kindly to leave before I call security and delete my number, like I have deleted yours.”

The silence that settled upon us was deafening and my eyebrows furrowed as a tear rolled down my cheek without warning, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to find my breath. That hurt, it hurt more than anything before, it hurt more than when Yunho left me, broke my heart. Mingi meant so much more to me than Yunho ever did, and I bit my lower lip as Mingi seemed unaffected, expression blank and rather bored. Nothing was making sense anymore. I was scared, but I also felt ready to break free of the chains of the past, I wanted Mingi. And knowing all this, I didn’t want to hold back anymore, I didn’t want to consider my next words anymore. I just wanted to speak my mind freely.

“My ex-boyfriend is Jeong Yunho, your best friend.” Mingi had almost turned away from me, but he froze, head slowly turning back to face me once again, “We dated back in high school, many years ago, when we were still some headless and stupid teenagers. But he was the first boy I’ve ever loved and he fucking broke my heart, shattered into pieces with a bright smile on his lips. He promised me many things, and I was naïve, so I believed it all. And because I did, I ended up hurt beyond fixing and I’ve never trusted a man again. He was my first boyfriend and the center of my universe, yet he never cared enough about me to properly break up with me.

“Yunho talked about you all the time. Everything you liked, everything you hated, you were part of our daily conversations and I always wished to meet you, to see what was so great in you that had Yunho gushing all the time. I was jealous, so jealous that I became bitter. I started hating even the mention of your name, I selfishly wanted Yunho to myself, and you gone from his life. I couldn’t understand what was so great about you and why I wasn’t enough. I knew Yunho didn’t love me, but I wanted him to, so I made myself believe it, believe that I was worth more to him than you’ll ever be. And in the process, I stupidly made myself believe that he’d never leave me, that he was the one for me like he has said so many times before.

“He broke my heart so fucking bad that it took years until I could say his name or even see his face again. I am over him now, have been for a long time, but I can’t help still feel bitter about him. I can’t help but associate you with him at times. He made me defensive and untrusting of men, I couldn’t help but assume you’d be just like Yunho when I first met you, at least when I finally realized who you were. I felt so guilty, I tried to push you away but you wouldn’t fucking give up. You are everything yet nothing like Yunho and that scares me, because I want you, Mingi. But I’m scared you’ll abandon me like Yunho did, that you’ll fill my head with empty and pretty fantasies and then leave me alone with them, tearing my heart apart in the process. I want to open up, but I’m scared. I think, however, with you by my side, I’d be able to do that, to let my walls down.”

The silence that settled upon us, once again, was deafening and I gulped, heart racing and making me feel lightheaded as Mingi’s face had fallen, expression finally not as void as before. He looked shocked, but surprisingly, he didn’t look hurt nor like he would hate me for ever. It made me hopeful for a second, it made me sniff loudly and blink away the insisting tears from my eyes. He gulped and took a deep breath, making me stare in his eyes, hopeful and less scared, as he sighed and rubbed at his chin; a stubble was showing. Now that I come to think of it, he looks rather tired with bags under his eyes, and his platinum hair has a blue hue to it.

“I’m sorry he made you go through so much; I know it wasn’t easy.” Mingi’s tone finally lost the edge it had before, finally it wasn’t laced with so much anger, and it almost made me cry, “I kind of—I knew. Not exactly the whole thing, but I suppose I can say I had a feeling that there was history between you and Yunho. It was too obvious whenever I brought him up that you didn’t like him, at first I was confused, but then I suppose everything just clicked into place. The drawing of his eyes, the sweater you lent me and the fact that you gave it to me in the end—I’ve known since then that it was probably Yunho. I never said anything to him, not like that at least, I wanted you to come to me on your own, when you fully trusted me with the information. And I’m sorry, but he—he was an asshole back in high school, he was insecure and he played with everyone’s feelings, he was quite good at manipulating people around him. He’s mentioned dating you, but very few times, and by the time you had broken up I had all but forgotten about you, I suppose I wasn’t much better compared to him.

“But all of this isn’t my fault in the end, and while I completely understand your reasoning now and why you often acted the way you did, I’m sorry, but I can’t just let go of things and start anew. There’s just—too many things that have happened, emotions that you stirred up in me, and I just can’t do it, I—it’s not even about you and Yunho, I don’t give a fuck about it, it was ages ago and Yunho is a changed man and I know he’s long moved on. And you too, I believe you have, you seemed less bitter lately, but I just can’t. I can’t help but ask again, what do you want, YN?”

At least he wasn’t mad at me, but I did feel ashamed that I made him piece everything together on his own, that I wasn’t capable of telling him the truth myself. I have made mistakes, sure, but Mingi apparently didn’t hate me for them, “I just want to apologize, for everything.”

Mingi nodded and I watched in despair as that cold mask slipped back onto his face, expression void of any emotion once again. It made me want to grab his shoulders and shake them, force him to look deep into my eyes and just see everything I felt for him, “That’s fine, I accept your apology. If that’s all, you can leave—”

“But that’s not all!” I snapped, having had enough of being dismissed by him. I saw the way his jaw twitched, the way his eyebrows furrowed at my defiance, at my reluctance to leave just yet. I was being pathetic and a pain in the ass, but I had to make him understand that I was ready to leave all my fears behind for him, to learn how to be a better person next to him. I wanted to change, and I wanted it to happen with him by my side, with him guiding me and teaching me how to be more like him, and less like the shitty person I was for so long. I longed to be the way I was before meeting Yunho, a lot happier and a lot less broody and hateful of the beautiful things that surrounded me, “Mingi, I cannot stop thinking about you. I spend every waking moment when we’re apart wondering what you’re up to, what’s going through your mind, whether you’re okay or not. And I’ve been drawing you, since the first time I saw you, you’ve captured my attention, you’ve made me curious of who you were the longer we spent time together. I don’t want to be like this anymore, I don’t want to hurt you anymore and shut you out, I want to fix everything. I want to—I just want you, Mingi.”

There was a quiet scoff behind Mingi, but neither one of us reacted to it as our gazes bore into each other, my eyes glinting with yearning and his façade slowly breaking down as he released a shaky breath, “Mingi, I adore you.”

“Get out.” For a second, my body froze as I thought he was addressing me, but then, he whirled around and pointed towards the studio’s still open door, “Get out, now.”

And I just realized that the blonde girl had been witness to everything, and I couldn’t help but blanch in embarrassment as she made to interject, but I guess Mingi’s sharp eyes made her reconsider her choice as she huffed and then stormed out of the studio. My cheeks felt hot and I realized the clothes were making me sweaty, so as Mingi hurried towards the door to close it, I shrugged my jacket off and placed it neatly on the back of the sofa together with my thick scarf. And as I looked up, mouth dry as the door clicked shut and Mingi turned around, it felt like time stopped, like the world stopped moving. But Mingi was moving towards me, in nothing more than three steps he stood in front of me, and before I could even as much as try to reason with him or plead more to be forgiven, warm fingers dug into my cheeks and the wind was knocked from my lungs as his plush warm lips slammed against mine, making me gasp as my eyes remained wide open.

『Filthy impetuous soul

I wanna give it to you』

I thought he wouldn’t want anything to do with me, I thought he’d tell me that he needed time to forgive me completely and for us to work things out. But I couldn’t help shudder and feel ecstatic as I grabbed the collar of his shirt and cardigan, my eyes falling shut, as I pulled him closer to my body, savoring the kiss as if it was our first. But it wasn’t anything like that one, it wasn’t soft nor careful nor slow, it was hurried and desperate as Mingi pushed me backward, pressing me against the wall, right between the small space between the sofa and the desk. My arms circled his neck as he grabbed my nape with one big hand and pressed his other into the small of my back, making it arch as my fingers tangled into his soft hair, not pulling, just feeling the need to hold onto something, to keep myself grounded.

And much like the first time, our lips seemed to fit perfectly, and I tried not to keen when he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on the soft flesh, and I tried not to turn into a puddle when he hummed lowly against my lips as my fingers flexed in his hair. Perhaps I kissed him a bit harder and more aggressively as our pace quickened, my hand holding the side of his neck as Mingi pressed his body into mine until it felt like he was trying to forbid me even of the idea of escaping from his clutches, and I had no fucking intention of going anywhere, because in his arms I felt content and safe, and perhaps a bit too hot as goosebumps covered my arms the longer our lips moved hungrily against each other. And when I cupped his cheeks and perhaps held onto them a bit too firmly, his lips parted, and I ignored my lungs screaming for air as my tongue slipped past his parted mouth. I didn’t expect him to moan as our tongues tangled together, all wet and perhaps a little disgusting, but neither one of us cared about that.

I tried to stand on my tip toes for better access as Mingi’s ring clad fingers were suddenly running through my hair and tilting my head back, making my skin tingle where he held my hip firmly. I had been kissed by other people before, but neither felt like with Mingi, neither made me crave more and more and more. But our lungs could only go on so long without air, and I would’ve been embarrassed for the loud gasp I let out when we finally parted, if it wasn’t for Mingi diving straight for my neck and finding the sweet spot that made me putty in his arms. And I tried to ignore his deep grunts as my fingers got tangled in his platinum blonde strands as he pressed open mouthed and wet kisses against my neck, his arms around my hips pulling me into an embrace that had my pulse showing through the skin of my neck. My lips were tingling and my lungs actually hurt, but I couldn’t care less when Mingi finally pulled back and blinked his dark eyes open, pupils dilated and lips so swollen he almost made me chase after them once again.

『Oh, just to see what you'd do

'Cause I'm so drunk on you』

“What’s in the thermos?” His voice was raspier than usual, and it made me bite my bottom lip as my eyes searched his face, his falling on my lips instead.

“Hot chocolate, for peace making.” I answered, sounding a lot more breathless than I actually felt, and Mingi chuckled, the sound deep in his throat. I let my arms fall from his shoulders and instead circled them around his torso, trying to fight off the smile from my lips. Mingi didn’t look angry nor dismissive anymore, but I knew I wasn’t actually forgiven just yet. And that was only fair.

“This is peacemaking, not the hot chocolate.” And there it was, the mischievous glint in his eyes and the smug smirk on his lips as he squeezed my hips once and lowered his face until our lips brushed together, “Although I do appreciate the hot chocolate too.”

“Good, my mom was rather excited when she told me to give it to you.” I pressed a chaste kiss against Mingi’s lips before he could try and say anything, and he chuckled when I pulled away, eyes creasing and crooked front teeth showing.

“What are we now?” His voice was a mere whisper, not insecure nor scared, just wondering, “What do you want?”

I gulped, but decided to be honest. No more hiding my feelings and thoughts from him, “I don’t know just yet, and that’s why I need you to take the lead, but this—I want more of this, of you.”

“Good,” Mingi hummed, lips pursed as he kissed my cheek once before slowly releasing me from his warm embrace, “because I’ve been wanting more of you for fucking ages, doll.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as suddenly I felt embarrassed and perhaps a little shy, but Mingi seemed to be unphased as he grabbed my tote bag and looked through it because his clothes were in it, “You can keep these, they looked better on you anyway. But you better not give them to Yunho if he ever happens to go over to your house—”

“Mingi.” I snapped mortified and pushed his arm as he dropped the tote bag and burst out laughing, giving me a cheeky smile.

“Want to hear the rest of the song I made for you?”

“For me?”

“Yeah, doll, for you.”

            By the time I managed to get home I might as well been on cloud nine and in so much ecstasy that one would think I was on drugs. Which, kind of felt like it after the day I have had—not that I’ve ever done any drugs. I failed to notice my mother’s silhouette in the window of our kitchen when I got out of Mingi’s car and, of course, that meant she saw him get out of his old Honda Prelude and jog after me to kiss me hard and leave me dizzy before he left. And all of that, of course, meant that by the time I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, my mother was leaning against the archway of the kitchen with the widest smirk I’ve ever seen on her face.

“So, did you have sex?”

My eyes widened in mortification and I struggled to step out of my boots and shrug off my jacket, “Mom!”

“So, you did, huh.” It wasn’t even a question, and suddenly running after Mingi’s car sounded a lot better than standing in front of my mother as she bit her bottom lip, giving me a wink.

“We didn’t!” I exclaimed, cheeks flushed a deep red as I cradled the tote bag to my chest, “He needs to take me out on a date first—many dates, actually.”

“Well, he better hurry up then cuz you’re glowing and you’re happy.” I froze at my mother’s words as she looked at me with a serene expression on her face, lips pulled into a small smile, forgetting all about her previous teasing, “He’s good for you, too good. I haven’t seen you so relaxed and happy since—since highschool.”

Since Yunho broke up with me.

“I know, and I will make sure I never hurt him again.” I told my mom and she hummed, looking down at her wristwatch.

“You missed lunch, by the way, so you’ll eat chicken tenders—”

“Again?!”

“Again, exactly. Go wash up before dinner.”

And I was out of her sight in no time, with a newfound rush in my system, skin tingling as I realized I craved to hold my pencil and my sketchbook in my hands. I couldn’t remember the last time I drew something for me and not because it was an assignment. And if hours later the sketch looked a lot like a familiar platinum blonde haired man with sharp eyes and a tall nose wearing blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a beige cardigan over it, accessories many and nails painted black, then I wouldn’t even deny it anymore. Perhaps he would love seeing my drawings. Perhaps I should finally show him.

Mings 🖤: date on wednesday? Me: but im paying this time Mings 🖤: so when we went to the pottery coffee shop it was a date wasnt it, doll Me: maybe it was maybe it wasnt Mings 🖤: no maybes this time

『Oh, but you know me too well

Oh, but you know me too well, well』

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Chapter 8

Twinkles

Series Masterlist

Previous part: Little Birdie Next Part: True Romantic

Word Count: 7,072

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

A week and a handful of days was exactly how long you actually made it into your two weeks before you found yourself with a mind just as hectic and busy as it was the day you left the compound. But the only difference now was that it was you and your thoughts back on an empty road on the way back to the compound.

You figured that processing your feelings and settling back in at home might've been good for you. Maybe being back in the environment that caused all of the physical and mental injury would help move the healing along faster, help you make amends and tie up all the loose ends you needed in order to really solidify your place in such an environment.

Plus, you still wanted to talk to Bucky again. You needed to bury the fight for good. And Steve... lord knows you still have a lot to figure out between the two of you... and Bucky. Okay... there was still a lot of figure out with the three of you.

The road was so dark and almost lonely with the lack of traffic happening at 10pm on a weeknight. For some reason, not even your playlist or the almost freezing temperatures outside competing with your car heater was distracting your brain from the only thought it could conjure up, which was to call Steve.

You didn't know why you wanted to talk to him, or even what to say, but your fingers even pulled up his contact on your car's display just in case.

It was already late, and you had no reason, but you couldn't stop thinking about him. Wondering if he was already asleep, you took the leap of faith and pressed call.

Your intuition was right, because before you could even press call, Steve's name popped up on the little screen and your car informed you that he had called you first.

"Hello?" You spoke, eyes glued to the open road.

"Hey, Bug." He spoke back, voice deep and raspy as if he was half asleep. "What are you up to?"

"Funny you should ask, I was literally just about to call you but you beat me to it." You told him with a smile, well aware he couldn't see it.

"Oh really? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I don't know why I wanted to call you, but my brain was telling me I should." You explained. However, you could recognize now with the sound of his voice that there was something going on with him. He sounded sad, or maybe frustrated and definitely tired. "What's going on with you?"

"Funny you should ask" A very fake and lazy chuckle sounded. "I'm miserable at the moment, can you tell?"

"Just a little." You lied. He definitely sounded miserable. "What happened, Stevie?"

"The stupid heater in my apartment isn't working and it can't get fixed until tomorrow." Steve started. "I'm exhausted, but no matter what I do I can't fall asleep because I'm so fucking cold. I was going to ask Bucky if I could sleep at his place tonight but I saw Nat's location was in his apartment so that flew out the window."

It took a slight moment to figure out why Steve was complaining about the temperature when he was usually the kind've guy that could put up with anything. But when it clicked, you felt a billion times worse for him.

You remembered a few times Steve has confessed to you that he can't stand the feeling of being cold.. 66 years of being stuck in ice will do that to a person.

Though he had no memory of all of those long years, his brain seemed to hold onto what he felt during the first few moments of the plane he crashed straight into the arctic.

So every time Steve found himself alone in the cold, he swore he could feel his skin sting. His heart would race no matter how hard he tried to get it to slow down, it felt like the floor would start dropping below his feet, and the entire time he was waiting for pain that never came. The longer he stayed cold, the worse it would spiral.

Your eyes darted to the time displayed in your car, 10:54 pm. Then they read the outside temperature, 36 degrees Fahrenheit.

"That sounds awful, I'm sorry" You pouted. "You have my key, why don't you sleep at my place?"

There was a deep sigh through the phone line, and a few moments of silence as he contemplated what to say next. "It's okay. I'm actually not even too sure why I called you, I think I'm just trying to calm myself down."

Your pout deepened and your heart cracked. "Steve"

"Hmm?"

"Go sleep in my bed." You commanded.

"It's fine, Bug. I just wanted to talk to you. Why does it sound so... rumbly?" Steve tried to change the subject.

"Oh, because I'm driving right now." You explained. "Im using my phone's Bluetooth to turn on the heater in my apartment for you so it'll be nice and toasty when you get there."

"It's so late, why are you driving?" He asked.

"I'm actually on my way home right now." You explained keeping it vague, he didn't know which home you were referring to. "Is 73 degrees okay?"

"Bug, I can't." Steve denied, sounding remorseful.

"You can't what?"

"I can't just accept your kindness like this."

If you didn't know him so well, you almost wouldn't be able to know just from the sound of his voice that he was on the verge of tears. But i in this case, you probably knew him better that he would've liked. "Like what, Steve?"

"I still feel so bad that I hurt you." Steve explained, practically in a whisper. He was thankful you couldn't see the way his hands were shaking or the way he had to breathe through his mouth because of how fast his heart was pounding from the sheer amount of anxiety coursing through his nerves. "I can't just go seek comfort from you and invade your space after what I did. That's not fair."

Now, you felt like crying too. "We already talked about this. We can't keep holding onto what happened or it's going to make us both miserable."

"So you're still feeling better about it?"

"Since the last time I saw you? Absolutely." You reassured him. "What can I do to help you feel better right now?"

"This is more than enough." The statement was filled with the most confidence you've heard since answering the phone.

You knew he was seeking any sort of validation that you didn't absolutely hate him, so you tried your hardest to butter him up with some truthful vulnerability "I miss you"

"I miss you too." He agreed, letting his eyes fall shut. "Any chance I can see you again soon?"

You smiled, but he didn't have to know that. He also didn't have to know that you had a 35 minute ETA back to the compound. "I'm busy tomorrow, but how about Saturday?"

"Saturday works great." He declared, still miserable but he tried to be enthusiastic. "You're coming back to the compound on Saturday?"

"Yep, I'll be there." Again, not a lie. "What do you want to do on Saturday?"

"Sleep? Take a nap? Watch a movie? Take a nap while we watch movies?"

You laughed at his suggestions. "That sounds great. And what are you going to do right now?"

"Hopefully sleep and take a nap and sleep some more."

"Think some warm thoughts?"

"I wish I was a marshmallow on a stick." He mumbled.

"Love you lots, go sleep in my room."

"Love you more, no." Steve denied again. "I'll let you go now. I think I'm starting to feel a bit better."

"You think or you know?"

"I'll only know once I hang up."

"Well if you don't know, just call me back, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you for talking to me, drive safe." He didn't want to hang up, but he also didn't want you to think he was being clingy or dramatic so he decided to cut the conversation short. "Will you let me know when you get home?"

"Sure thing. Think about the marshmallow!"

A very small smile tugged at his lips. "Goodnight, Buggy."

"Sweet dreams, Stevie."

The phone-line ended and your music started again. Much like before, the road was still lonely, and you were still unable to get your mind off of Steve. Maybe even more so now than before the phone call. But there was nothing much you could even do for him from the middle of the highway, so you sang along to your playlist that was playing a bit too loud, and tried your best to ignore the uncomfortable sting settling in your lungs as anxiety took over the closer you got to the compound.

That anxiety only worsened as you pulled up, and parked in your reserved spot. You flung your bags over your shoulder and walked through the lobby to get to the elevator and up to your apartment.

The luxurious smell of the building, the sounds of the automated doors and buttons, mostly everyone walking around in their designated uniform, and all the familiar faces reminded you of the really dark place your mind forced you to live in for the long weeks before you left.

Your apartment was no help either. Dragging your feet through the living-room and into the bedroom made memories of all the hours you were stuck in bed flood back so fast you felt physically nauseated. The tossed around blankets over your couch and your bed left unmade was nothing but evidence of how fast you left the compound in the first place. As if you set out on an emergency mission to save yourself.

Luckily you had a perfect excuse to not linger for too long on your own, so you dropped your bags in the corner of your room before making your bed and let your legs carry you over to Steve's place.

After making your way all the way there, and taking a big deep breath to brace yourself for whatever was about to happen, you slid his key that you never gave back to him into his door.

Then, a voice appeared practically out of thin air. "Oh wow, never thought I'd live to see the day Rogers has a girl sneaking in" Tony commented as he walked right past you in the hallway.

"This is definitely not what it looks like." You denied Tony's remark with a shake of your head, but he didn't stick around long enough to even explain yourself.

You stuck to rolling your eyes as you entered his place. It was odd being in his apartment after so much time away, but it was exactly how it always was. Immaculately clean, decorated well, and it smelled subtly like his cologne that you loved so much.

Though you wanted to stop for a moment to reflect, it did little to keep you from walking straight to his bedroom door and opening it slowly as to not scare him.

The first thing you noticed was that his TV was on and playing a movie you didn't recognize, but it provided enough light for you to see the lump hiding beneath the covers. How you still felt the overwhelming sense of comfort you always did when you'd sneak into his bed during the sad and lonely nights. Then, you realized how cold it actually was in his apartment. The longer you were there, the more the chill in the air seeped through your clothes and raised bumps on your skin.

You couldn't tell if he was sleeping or not, but you walked towards him slowly regardless. Then, the blankets tugged around him tighter. The smile on your face spread when you realized he was awake and hiding from what he assumed was Bucky.

"Not in the mood, Punk." Steve mumbled.

A giggle escaped you as you sat on his bed. "Rude"

You watched as his head poked out just for a moment. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion before he let out a little sound of complaint, and pulled the blanket back over his head.

"Hey! Where did you go?" You questioned, smile stretching wider.

He mumbled out a statement you could barely understand, but you did catch the end. "....... liar."

"What did you call me?!" You questioned, faking offense.

There was no response other than a little laugh so quiet you almost missed it, so your hands weren't shy to grab onto the lump of muscles and anxiety covered in a pile of blankets and shake him around playfully. "What did you call me?!?!" You asked again with a giggle.

This time, he poked out just the top of his head and his stupidly beautiful big blue eyes. It was painfully obvious that he was hiding a smile despite his misery. "I called you a big fat liar" he sassed.

"I told you I was on my way home." You defended yourself with a performative gasp and your right palm straight over your heart. "I never lied!"

"I thought you were Bucky!" Steve continued, still hiding most of his face. He was thankful that the hoodie pulled over his head helped hide his messy hair.

"It's pronounced Buggy" you smiled.

"What are you doing back here so soon?"

"Stop asking so many questions, I'm here to rescue you." You enthused, but it earned another groan and the blanket back over his head. "Wow, you're really going to make my first mission back a difficult one huh?"

More gibberish grumbles sounded from underneath the blanket pile. Even if you asked him to clarify the meaning of his babbles, you knew he was still going to be unwilling to cooperate.

"Fine, you leave me no choice." You huffed while standing up from your spot and kicking your shoes off. Then, you grabbed hold of what you assumed was his shoulder and his waist, then pushed with all your might to roll him over from his back and onto his side.

Laughter he was trying his hardest to contain slipped past his lips when he heard your sounds of struggle. "I'm offended that you're huffing and puffing up there."

"Oh, so now you're speaking crystal clear?" You noted, taking in a deep breath after moving the dead weight of a super soldier. "Sorry for the huffing and puffing, didn't realize you were made of pure muscle and uranium. If I did, I would've warmed up a bit first."

"Uranium?" Steve questioned still sounding miserable, still hiding from you.

"The heaviest element on earth" you clarified, lifting the corner of the blanket pile on top of him before sliding into his bed. "It's a compliment on your big strong muscles, Stevie, don't get it twisted."

"What are you doing?!" His head lifted in confusion as you got into bed with him, under the safety of his blanket fort, and started curling yourself behind him.

The front of your body was against his back, your legs tucked behind his, and your arm wrapped around his waist to hold him nice and snug before you put your chin to his shoulder and propping yourself up a bit so you could see his face. "Providing you with the love and warmth you need to feel better, isn't that obvious?"

His big blue eyes opened to look up at you for just a moment, and when they met your gaze his stomach filled with butterflies and an undeniable blush warmed his cheeks. Then, his pretty eyes gleamed with that familiar twinkle that made the corners of your lips tug upwards.

You were so much braver than he was, because before the big blow out between the two of you, a friendly snuggle here and there was no big deal. But now that you knew the extent of his admiration for you, he didn't know if he would ever find the courage to touch you again. It was too high stakes, and way too nerve wracking for him to risk. Because if he tried his hand at you and fumbled his chance, he'd never forgive himself.

You found that hesitance to be obvious, but sweet and endearing. Much like you found his reactions to your actions to be even sweeter and more endearing.

The 6'4, 250 pound weapon of a man was nothing but putty in your hands now, and that did a number to your capacity to fight off your own repressed feelings for him. If he was putty, then you were melting like a snowman on a summer vacation. Neither of you stood a chance against each other, both of you were letting your walls fall not only down, but also apart.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut so hard that his whole face scrunched up, and let his head hit the pillow once more. "Why am I the little spoon?"

"Because I know you well, Stevenson" Your smile widened.

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

"You have the most obvious little spoon energy of any person I've ever met before." You explained. "That's not a bad thing, it's just a fact. Are you not loving this?"

"That's a trick question" He huffed in complaint before nestling closer to you. "You're so warm."

"See? That'll make you feel better soon. And now you don't have to be alone, so we can take some nice deep breaths until our anxiety floats away... but of course if you hate this too much I can just leave..."

There it was. The biggest relief to Steve's mind and heart... your sassy and sarcastic spunk was starting to shine back through you. Though he still felt like pieces of yourself were lost, the smallest pieces of you were a victory to him. If he was just a little less anxious, he'd find it within himself to bounce off of your sarcasm, but right now he just needed his mind to be less busy.

Steve shook his head shyly. "I really don't hate this."

"See? So just relax." You reminded him as you settled in and let yourself fully lay down behind him. "You're so tense."

"I can never get myself to relax when I'm cold." He explained to you. "It feels like I'm waiting for something that never happens."

You could read between the lines of his words. He was waiting for a plane crash, a physical feeling of pain that he associated with being so cold.

"Nothing is going to hurt you, Stevie." You reminded him gently. Of course he knew that, but sometimes anxiety lies to brain if its victim. Sometimes a small reminder is all you need.

"I know." He agreed with a small nod, trying to get his hands to stop trembling.

"You know it's 42 degrees in here? I read the thermostat on my way in."

"Feels like it" Steve complained.

"My place is a toasty 73."

"That's lovely." He mumbled. "M'happy for you."

"You're so stubborn." You huffed, shoving your face between his shoulder and neck and placing your hand over his heart.

Steve gasped in fake offense. "Don't go searching for my heart rate! That's personal!"

"It's going pretty fast there, Bestie." You smiled, feeling it thunk against your hand before removing it from his chest and sliding it up to his shoulder so you could squeeze him just a little tighter.

"You're not helping, Bud" He admitted, trying his hardest to contain his feelings for you from oozing out through the very loose seams of his heart. The way you were squeezing his body against yours with such a lovely and gentle pressure was not helping it stay in place.

"It's pronounced Bug." You joked again. "It's obvious to me that you're still harboring a lot of guilt and that's half the reason for your anxiety right now, so we're going to stay like this until we talk it through and your hard head softened up enough to realize that I love you, and it makes me sad that you're not feeling great right now."

Steve audibly whimpered and shoved his face into his pillow, hiding away once again. "I just feel bad."

"We've already been over this. All is well."For a few moments, you had a new found sense of guilt. It felt like you had gone way too far in punishing him when it felt as though he was already punishing himself far more than he deserved. "Misunderstandings happen, arguments happen, fights happen, but it's just how the world works and it's a testament to how much we really care about each other. If we didn't care to have each other in our lives then there would be nothing to fight for, right?"

Still in hiding, Steve gently nodded his head.

"I've known you for how long?" You asked.

"Nine months" his muffled voice responded from somewhere between his face and the pillow.

You smiled. "How many days a week have I seen you in those 9 months?"

"Almost everyday, except for the last few weeks" He pouted.

"That's 279 days we've spent together and after every single one of those days, good or bad, I've still chosen to see you, or talk to you, or even think about you. And all of that, all of this has led us to right here, right now. You know why?"

Another grumpy grumble only fueled your fire to complete your mission of soothing the anxious soldier. "Hmm?"

"Because love is unconditional." You stated confidently. "And I can't let anyone I love be somewhere that's making them miserable. That's why you let me go, right? You gave me a chance to leave the compound."

Again, Steve nodded.

"And that's why I can't let you stay here tonight." Your hand squeezed the top of his shoulder. "...are you convinced yet?"

Suddenly, his head popped up "I like hearing you talk so I'm just listening while talking to work up the courage to get out of bed."

Your giggle sounded like heaven so close to his ear as you propped yourself up behind him again. "I had two more tricks up my sleeve, do you want to hear them or are we all good here?"

"I want to hear them"

"Okay the first one was that I was going to use our rooms as metaphors. We could stay here together and be uncomfortable and cold, or we could be cozy together in my warm fuzzy bed but we have to choose to move on."

"So deep and philosophical" Steve grinned. "The second one?"

"Oh the second one is cheap bait. I was going to tell you I have a family size bag of m&m's on my kitchen counter."

"Is that the truth?" He raised an eyebrow, looking back at your face to search for a bluff.

"The whole truth, and nothing but the truth." You confirmed.

"What kind of m&m's?"

One word to seal the deal, you knew it would get him up out of bed and straight into your apartment. "Mini"

"Get off of me, I have important business to attend." Steve joked with a very gentle sense of urgency, shrugging you off of his back.

You let him go and felt a sense of pride when the big beefy soldier got out of bed to follow you.

"Emergency mission?"

"Very important" he agreed, trying not to wince as the cold hair hit his skin again.

"Then put some pep in your step Rogers, we've got a mission to accomplish!"

He giggled and followed you through his room, into the living room and nearly out the front door before he passed a mirror and stole a glance at himself.

Strands of wild blonde hair were sticking out of the front of his hoodie pulled over his head. Socks on his feet, sweatpants, and the very obvious sleep deprivation causing redness under his eyes was not his best look.

"Oh wow, hope the hallways are clear because I'm going to scare people if they see me like this" Steve laughed at his reflection, getting his slippers on his feet.

"Maybe people will start treating you like you're human if they see you in something a little less business casual." You smiled, feeling happy that you got to see the usually put together soldier in such a state.

"I'm accepting it for what it is, because there's no amount of brushing or product in this world that would be able to fix my hair right now." He shrugged, following you out of the door and into the hallways.

"It's cute, you can pull it off."

No longer being able to hide his blushing cheeks from you, he bowed his head to the floor and trailed behind you all the way up to your apartment. His eyes stayed glued to the floor even as you unlocked your front door, he took that moment to fill his lungs with a big breath of air to try and snap out of the anxious daze he was in.

But as the door swung open, a big wave of warm air washed over his body and you took a step aside to let him in first. Only when he stepped into your warm living room did he feel like he could actually breathe again.

The floor felt a little more stable, his legs a little more steady, and the world seemed to have stopped its crashing and burning.

As you locked the front door and kicked off the shoes, Steve looked at your couch and suddenly felt a whole new wave of anxiety over the memories replaying in his head of that very night everything changed all because he sat in that one spot on your couch.

Then he thought of the last time he was here, the anxiety and gut wrenching guilt he felt as he trudged up to your apartment after nobody had seen you for a while, the way his heart dropped into his stomach when he found you asleep in your be-

"Stop thinking." Both your hands reached up and squeezed his shoulders from behind him. "Go to bed."

Immediately snapping out of it, he chuckled at the way you knew him so well before dragging his feet into your room, kicking off his slippers, and burrowing himself underneath your blankets this time.

You walked in a few moments later, bag of m&ms in hand, and a content grin on your face and warmth in your heart at the sight of Steve in your bed. He was already lying on his stomach with his arm above his head, and his head tucked into the ditch of his elbow.

After placing the bag of chocolate on the nightstand, you pulled the blankets over his back and sat next to him.

"Nice and warm?" You asked him, left hand rubbing small circles over his shoulder blade.

"like a marshmallow on a stick" his sleepy voice sounded.

"Cozy?"

"Mhm" Steve nodded.

"Like a bug in a rug!" You enthused, earning his laughter. "I'm happy you're here, Stevie."

"I'm happy that you're here." He turned his head to look at you, big blue eyes twinkling just for you. "A big part of me thought you'd never come back."

You let out a sigh, not being able to come up with much of a good reason why you came back. "Just felt like I had some unfinished business I had to take care of."

"Does that mean you know what you're going to do?"

You knew he was once again asking about your choice in quitting, staying an agent, or becoming an avenger, but you still couldn't quite get the insecure voice in the back of your heart and forefront of you brain to quiet down yet.

"Yeah, but I'm not going to tell anyone until after it's official so nobody tries to get me to change my mind." Your lips pressed together, contemplation turning your smile into a contemplative grin. "So right now I'm going to take a shower as fast as I can so I can get back to the blondie in my bed, then after that I'll probably lay awake all night wondering if I even know how to make good choices for myself."

"Wow, not even me?" Steve faked offense.

"I didn't even tell my Mom" You reassured him. "But I have a meeting with Fury in the morning to make my decision official so, you'll know tomorrow."

"So we're both going to be lying awake all night?"

You chuckled. "No, because I can tell you're exhausted and I already know you're going to fall asleep the second the second I stop engaging you in conversation."

"You're so mean." He smiled, eyes still wide and twinkling.

"Tell me about it." you agreed. "Are you going to be okay if I go shower really quick?"

"Mhm, I'm a big boy." He nodded.

"Okay big boy, you go to sleep, and I'll be right back" You squeezed his shoulder before getting up.

Steve was quick to let the exhaustion close his heavy eye lids, and he focused on emptying his head of it's constant racing thoughts. He listened to the sound of your drawers opening and closing, then the bathroom door closing behind you.

The sound of the shower turning on and the flowing water helped provide some comfort as he realized he finally felt safe and warm again. A lazy smile unintentionally spread across his face when your music followed, but it was playing so low he could barely hear it. One thing he knew about you was that you had to listen to music through completing any task, and you loved to share that music with everyone around you. But right now, it was quiet in consideration of him, and that was far more touching to him that you'd probably ever assume.

But that was just the effect you had on Steve, every little thing you did was so endearing to him and he just couldn't help himself for falling into you as if you were a trap perfectly designed to capture him.

Thoughts of you consumed his mind now, so much so that he slowly started slipping into a dreamy state, that was until not even two minutes after you had left him the bathroom door had opened again and he heard you walking around your room once more.

Assuming you had forgotten something, he paid it no mind. That was until your footsteps approached him, and he heard your voice whispering.

"Stevie?" Your voice was calm and gentle, and the shower was still running. "You still awake?"

"Yeah" his eyes opened again, and eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.

"Sorry, I just- I was thinking about our phone call earlier" You started before sitting down next to him again. "It's just not fair so I didn't want you to fall asleep before I had a chance to tell you."

"Not fair?" He questioned sleepily, forcefully blinking to keep his heavy eyes open.

Your nervous tight lipped grin told Steve everything he needed to know. Maybe it was just the lighting in your bedroom, or perhaps anxiety and exhaustion making him hallucinate but he swore he caught a slight blush on your cheeks.

"I can't help but to feel like maybe some of the anxiety or negative feelings you still have are because I haven't given you enough reassurance, and I'm sorry." You tried to read his expression as well as he was reading yours, but you picked up nothing but exhaustion and relief. "You know how much I love you, right?"

A small grin took over his lips and he let his eyes close in contentment, feeling a little too tired and comfortable to keep them awake anymore. But he nodded nonetheless.

"You know that your friendship and support has been a pivotal part of my career and personal growth, and I'll be loyal to you no matter what we go through?"

"I do now" he nodded again.

"Remember how I said we can explore the cute little twinkles in your eyes when things settle?" You started. "You know that's not just because I'm comfortable with it, but because I like you too, right?"

His eyes snapped open and eyebrows furrowed as if you had just set off a bomb in the bed he was sleeping in. "No, that was not made clear."

Steve swore his cheeks got so hot he could feel his heartbeat pulsing through the skin.

"Okay, well now it was!" You said with a calm and enthusiastic attitude that he could never even dream of achieving if a confession like that just rolled off his own tongue. "Glad we had this talk, I'm going to go take a shower now."

He was in pure disbelief as you stood up and walked away. "No insight on that? No further explanation?"

"You're really tired, don't want to bore you with the details." You shrugged with a playful giggle.

"I'm never going to sleep again" He said louder as you got further away.

"I don't believe you! Besides, the shower is running and I don't want to waste water." You pointed out. "I'll be right back!"

The bathroom door closed behind you, locked, then your faced scrunched up as your silently screamed and danced like a teenage girl. That locked door also gave Steve the space he needed to whimper into his elbow and mourn the person be was before his knowledge of your feelings.

You had simultaneously killed the man he once was, and birthed a new version of him. One whose thoughts were far more insufferable than the last, with approximately 4 billion questions to interrogate you with, and also less and more anxiety at the same time.

As promised, you showered quickly and changed into a loose t shirt and tight shorts you worked out in occasionally before making your way back to your bedroom. Tossing your dirty clothes into the hamper, you quietly turned off your bedside lamp leaving the room dark and slowly got into bed where Steve was, now laying on his side facing the middle of the bed.

As you got under the blankets and settled in next to him, you noticed he had taken his hoodie off leaving him in a shirt with his pretty blonde hair to be crazy on its own accord. Feeling happy that he was finally warm and content, you let your head hit the pillow, your body facing his as well.

You couldn't tell if he was asleep or not, but you didn't pay it much mind. Happy to be back with your best friend and in your own bed, time slipped away from you as fast as your conscious.

Unsure how much time had passed, an undeniable cheeky smile spread across your lips when Steve's heavy forearms reached out to you and planted itself on your waist. His touch was tentative and very experimental, your smile widened as you could feel how hesitant he was to let the full weight of his arm rest on you.

To applaud his bravery and encourage good behavior, you placed your hand on his forearm to welcome him to relax and maybe even come a little closer if he felt like it. But he immediately ripped his arm away.

"...sorry" he mumbled quietly.

You reached over to grab his wrist and pull his arm back to right where it was before deciding that you needed to be brave for him. So you moved your whole body closer to his, pulled his arm around you, and you put your arm around him. "I was trying to pull you in, not push you away."

"Sorry again" he chuckled lazily.

You could feel his body relaxed as you tangled your legs with his, and snuggled your face into his chest. How he always managed to smell like a slice of heaven was beside you, but you were happy to reap the benefits.

Tightening his arms around you and nestling his chin into your hair, he felt like there was nothing that could ever get him to give this up. There was no emergency in the world that could pull his mind away from the happiness and comfort he felt in your embrace. Really, nothing was going to hurt him.

"Comfy?" He asked you, voice deep and raspy.

"Snug as a bug in a rug." You confirmed, making him giggle.

"Sweet dreams, Buggy."

"Goodnight, Twinkles." You said, knowing he would hate the nickname you had thought of.

"How dare you" He complained regardless of being able to hear the smile in his voice.

"Sorry, Twinkles. It's stuck now. Nothing I can do to change it."

"If you insist"

You internally celebrated the win. "Love you."

"Love you more."

As the night fell and the morning rose, Steve didn't remember a single thing. He slept like the dead, and woke up in pure bliss the next morning.

He wasn't sure he had ever been so comfortable in his entire life. The two of you weren't really cuddling anymore, but your sweet little face was still facing him, and your arms still held onto each other while your bodies drifted and sprawled out to their own contentment.

Gentle morning light, your calm and gentle breaths, he could've stayed like this forever.

He looked around and noticed you were sleeping on your tummy now, one of your legs were hiked up so your knee was against his thigh, and you had kicked most of the blankets off of yourself in your sleep. Though the heater was on and he wasn't concerned about you being cold, something caught his eye and piqued his interest.

The back of your shirt hiked up and exposed some of the skin on your back. Steve had seen you in a sports bra countless times before, even naked once, but the difference was now your back was covered in a big scar.

He frowned for you, knowing that there was a permanent reminder on your body of the asshole who went out of his way to make your life a living hell. It also left him wondering what his body would look like if it allowed him to hold onto every scar and mark obtained from battle.

Then, your stupid alarm went off and had to ruin everything. Steve tried his hardest not to curse the universe for taking this moment of peace away from him as he grabbed your phone to turn your alarm off.

He gently shook your arm until your pretty eyes blinked open.

"Time to wake up, buggy." He sweetly smiled at you.

You groaned before shoving your face into a pillow. Now it was your turn to be the dramatic one. "Says who? You can't make me"

"Says Fury, your meeting is in an hour." Steve reminded you.

"You make some good points" Your giggle sounded, poking your head back out. "Good morning, Steven."

"Steven?" Steve questioned with an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Yeah, short for Stevenson!" You said matter of factly, prying yourself out of bed and swinging your legs over the side of the mattress.

"Oh right, my full name." Steve agreed with you with all the seriousness in the world. He would stop the world from turning just to entertain your humor.

"Mhm, it's on your birth certificate." You nodded. Still sitting on the edge of your bed, you started thinking about the day ahead of you. "Hey Twinkles, I have a question."

A smile stretched across your face as you could hear his sigh at the nickname that definitely wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. "How can I help you, bug." Steve's tone unenthusiastic.

"I just realized I never got my new suit back, so what am I supposed to wear to a meeting with Fury?" You looked back at him fast enough to catch a sneaky smile on his face.

"Oh there is a reason you don't have that back yet, but you don't need it just to see Fury. Wear something nice-ish, you'll be fine."

"And what would that reason be?" You questioned, finally standing up and stretching out your back.

"I guess you'll find out today." Steve shrugged, still laying down, still feeling lazy.

"You boys are exhausting to be around" You joked while disappearing into your bathroom.

Somewhere between you humming along to your music, and your footsteps around your apartment, Steve drifted off again. He wasn't necessarily asleep, but he wasn't really awake either.

Time and space didn't exist in this subliminal place, he was just happy to be around you again. It was the first time since your initial argument together that he had felt truly peaceful, and he intended on soaking in it.

...that was until you threw a pillow at him.

"Hey!" Steve complained, opening his eyes to glare at you. His heart nearly dropped to the floor when he saw how pretty you looked. You had perfectly styled your hair and put on a full face of makeup, while also donning a business casual outfit that suited you perfectly. Out of habit, Steve tried his hardest to hide the fact that he was having heart palpitations. "You are so mean."

"That was payback!" You explained. "I'm leaving now."

"Are you nervous?" Steve asked, trying to get a read on your emotions.

You watched as he finally got up out of bed. "Not really. Should I be?"

"Not really." Steve shook his head with a polite smile. "Should I be?"

You shrugged your shoulders as he approached you. "Not really."

"Good. Then all is well." He opened his arms for you, and you accepted.

Ugh. You even smelled just as good as you looked.

"As much as I'd like to stay here and hug you forever, I don't think Fury would appreciate it if I was late." You smiled against his chest.

"I think he would be mad at me too" Steve agreed with a chuckle and let you go from his arms. "Any chance you'll tell me your career choice right now before the meeting?"

"No, but I'll tell you when I get out" You giggled.

"Far enough" Steve didn't want to push you. "Good luck, Buggie."

"See you later, Twinkles."

Next Part: True Romantic

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[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - VIII

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics Wick pics midjourney art from pinterest, OP unknown

8. confess your sins

Before Wick can react John hits him with some kind of spell that knocks him off his feet, shatters two windows, and breaks the mental hold that had mind-fucked you so completely. 

You freeze with shock–John has to grab your arm, wrenching you towards the door. “Wait! What are you doing?!” 

“Saving you, obviously!” he snarls back, taking the stairs two at a time. 

The unholy growl that emanates from the upstairs apartment sets your hair on end. 

“But he didn’t come here to hurt us!”

“Then what was all that blood on the floor? It tripped the alarm in my wards–God, I thought he was killing you!” 

You are shouting all this at each other as you are running down, down, down. Constantine does not go for the exit, but seems to have another destination in mind. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Beeman’s reloading my shells!” You don’t know what that means–does it have to do with that weird steampunk shotgun? “I hope he finished the dhampir loads,” John mutters, pulling you along through the machinery under the bowling alley that looms like mechanical spiders. It’s eerie down in the basement, dark and quiet. 

“Beeman!” John shouts. “I’ve got a situation!”

There’s no answer. 

“Beeman!” 

The quiet of the subterranean level is broken by the sound of soft footfalls. Wick, stalking you both in the dark. 

All manners of weird and wonderful things hang from the ceiling. Jars and baskets filled with raw ingredients from all around the world. You round a corner to find John standing by a long and cluttered workbench. Beeman is nowhere to be found. 

With a clenched jaw John searches the work table, hefting the gun from the night before and loading it with sharp, precise movements, shoving home golden canisters inscribed with ancient runes and occult symbols. 

“Constantine!” 

You turn with horror to find the looming silhouette of Wick standing at the end of the dark aisle with his feet spread, the naked blade of his sword glinting silver in the low light. Those eyes glow such an unearthly blue, dancing like lightning. He is magnificent, terrible to behold, and you are as captivated as you are terrified. 

“You always bring a knife to a gunfight?” taunts John from behind you, the shotgun shouldered. 

“I want the pleasure of cutting you into pieces,” answers Wick in a tone that sends a chill down your spine. You believe him, and this is not good. 

“Please,” you say, putting up your hands and daring to step between them. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

Both men snort in answer to that. 

“Step aside, y/n,” says Wick, like he expects to be obeyed.  

“No.” 

“Let the man answer for himself. I’ll make it quick for you. A mercy killing.” 

“No,” you refuse again, standing your ground. You take a step towards him. “He just thought you were hurting me.” 

“I was hurting you? In that rat’s nest up there that reeks of your tears?”

 “That doesn’t…matter.” 

“It matters to me,” Wick states, and as unhinged as that is…it kindles some small, completely unhelpful warmth in you. 

Perhaps foolishly, you take another step. “If you hurt him I’ll never forgive you,” you tell the dhampir, and you mean it from the bottom of your heart. 

“Never is a long time, malyshka. Someday you’ll thank me for setting you free.” 

“No.” 

“Move,” he growls again, and you rack your brains for something to offer this maniac that might get through to him. 

“I’ll come visit you in New York,” you say, your tongue dry in your mouth, fear trilling down your spine. “But only if you calm down.” 

As it turns out, this was probably the only thing you could have said to get through to him in this state. He tilts his head, considering it, and the neon brightness of his eyes dampers to glowing cerulean blue. 

“Is that a promise?” 

“If you promise not to hurt him. Ever.” 

“What?” protests Constantine from behind you. “No! Y/n, he’s crazy!”

 Wick turns the blade in his hand, considering your offer over the apparent delight it would be to quarter John Constantine. You guess these two must have a history you have no idea about–this much bad feeling can’t be coming over you. 

“Breaking a deal with me is a bad idea, vampling,” the dhampir warns. 

“Likewise…dude,” you retort, as though you could offer even half the consequences this man could wreak. But your bravado inspires a slight curl of lips from him. You can just see it, in the dampered glow of his eyes. 

“Very well.” He sheathes the katana down his back. “When my business here is finished, you will come with me.” He steps towards you, and now John puts himself in front of you, the gun still raised. 

“I’m not agreeing to this deal. She has no idea what she’s getting into with you.”

You see Wick bristle, ready to go to war again, and you reach for John’s arm. He tries to resist you, but he forgets that you are actually stronger than him, and you force him to lower the gun. 

“You didn’t want me anyway, John. What do you care?” You don’t mean to sound so petulant about it, but it’s been a rough month, and it all comes out in those last four words.  

The demon hunter looks down at you like you’ve grown a third head with those soulful dark eyes held wide, his teeth grinding, utterly furious. It’s the most emotion you’ve seen from him, maybe ever. And maybe you’re the one with the preternatural strength and speed, but you never see it coming, when he grabs you by the neck, and his mouth crashes over yours.  

[the-kr8tor]

Stem the Tide

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mentions, TW blood, CW injury, TW death, CW vomit mention.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 8 >>> CHAPTER 9

There's water in your lungs.

Hobie's injuries scream at him to stop swimming, but he doesn't, not until he swims you to safety. He has you placed on a piece of the revenge, a shattered part of it, all splintered wood and sharp edges that dig into his skin.

The storm has subsided, the sea monsters went back into the water, the thought should ease him but he'd rather have the beasts within eyesight if possible. The sky is still dark and blue, the sun is just about waking up to the carnage floating on the depths.

His other half is paddling away from the trenches where the creatures could lie in wait. Eyes gradually searching for his crew but his main priority is you. You who haven't opened your eyes, you who haven't breathed nor moved. He worries, grief calling for him once again.

The fear of losing you is the only thing keeping him moving.

His arms ache as he tries to restart your heart. Pounding and pushing into your chest, doing his best not to crack any of your ribs. Chapped lips breathing life into you, inflating your lungs, chest heaving up but you don't expel the water. He ignores the freezing water; it's almost as cold as your skin, still it burns him with every touch he gives you.

You haven't breathed on your own for a long while.

He curses himself, wishes that he got to you faster but with all the jaws coming towards him he had to dodge in the water and with all the strong currents he let you drown. Fuck, why wasn't I fast enough? He thinks, guilt chewing him.

“C’mon, Scuttlebutt. Fuckin' breathe.”

Hobie sees land ahead so he paddles faster.

He sucks in air, then blows into your icy mouth. Pumping and pushing, his muscles are threatening to give out.

“Not you,” tears brimming in his eyes, the sun peeks in the horizon, illuminating your lifeless face. “Please, not you too.”

A large wave almost sweeps the two of you off the raft, he protects you with his own battered body. The wave helped, the makeshift raft beaching on the sandy shores of the unknown island.

He pounds his palms continuously on your chest. Thump, thump, thump. The sound echoes in his ears like death knells.

Nothing.

Your lips are turning an unnatural shade. He doesn't focus on it, instead Hobie leans in, breathing into you once again, moving his head down, he listens intently for a sign of your heart beating.

He can't even hear a faint beating.

“Fuck!” He continues the cycle, palms compressing on your chest, mouth giving you air straight from within him. “Open your goddamn eyes!”

Hobie yells your name, full of anguish and denial. He won't give up because if it was you in his shoes, you wouldn't have.

His sobs wracked his body, yet he does it again and again and again. He can't even look at your face anymore because if he fails, he doesn't want to remember your lifeless face, instead he'd want to remember you smiling, smiling at his crew, smiling at whatever joke Pav said, smiling at him.

He'll do anything to see it again. The crew can't lose you.

He can't lose you,

“No!” In his desperation, he hammers his fist harshly on your chest.

Nothing.

He does it again. Thrashing and drumming.

Nothing.

Hobie closes his eyes, leaning down to breathe life into you one last time. He's tired, too tired to continue. Lips lingering on yours, he holds onto you tight, refusing to let go.

You wake up to lips pressing on yours and salty water rising quickly from your lungs.

Gasping and coughing, you feel calloused fingers push your body to the side as you vomit out all the water. Eyes stinging, hands digging into the sand.

You hear relieved laughter behind you, hand gripping to your shoulder, the other rubbing gently on your back.

Spitting the last salty water out of your body, you fall back on the wooden raft, eyes adjusting to the sunlight. Hobie greets you with a tired smile, fatigued yet he still finds it in himself to grin from ear to ear.

The sun blankets behind him, bathing him in its light, piercings shining, and like fate's practical joke, there's a halo behind his head.

“Please don't tell me we both died and now we both ended up in the same place.” You joke with a hoarse voice. Tongue still tasting salt. “I can barely handle you while alive and now I have to be with you even in death?”

He laughs, the sound louder than the waves on the shore. “That's the first thing you say after almost dying? Miles is right, you use humour as a crutch.” with a shaking hand, he cups your cheek, laying his forehead against your own, resisting the urge to lay his head above your chest to listen to your heartbeat, just to make sure he isn't hallucinating.

You exhale against his face, breath fanning his eyelashes, it's enough proof that death has decided to give him reprieve.

“We're not dead?” You close your eyes, savoring his presence. Hands clasped around his wrist, feeling for his pulse.

He's not dead.

“No,” he leans away, relief under his sigh. “We're alive.”

You chuckle, ghosting your thumb across the gashes on his cheek. “You did good.”

Hobie shakes his head with a smile, rolling on his back, he falls on the sand softly, arms spread out. The once white sand turns into a shade of pink under him, reminding you of his injuries.

“I did good.” Eyes closed, hand reaching towards your side, he grasps your blouse in his palm like you'd fade away if he lets go of you for even a second. The cloth is warm on his skin, realizing that you're injured.

Your cough and groan was enough to ignite his adrenaline once again.

With a hand, you stop him from moving frantically. You inhale a sharp breath, “We need a fire going.” Sitting up on your own, shivering from the cold. He observes with his hands hovering over you.

“Alright, just stay here, I'll light it.”

“No, let me help.” Your wheezing says otherwise.

Hobie grasps your chin, lifting it to face him. Your skin is on fire, he smiles at life coming back to your body. “You drowned,” he doesn't want to say the other word or it might come true. “I think that trumps over a couple of stab wounds.”

“A couple?!” You blink in surprise. “Hobie—”

“Just a few slashes. Stay here, don't cause trouble, trouble. Captain's orders.”

“You're so fucking annoying.” You flop down on the raft, gripping your weeping wound, teeth chattering.

“You could say ‘thank you’ for once.” he teases in an attempt to bring back normalcy. Staring at your sand crusted hair, seafoam draped around you, he's glad he didn't give up in saving you just for him to get a glimpse of this view.

You stare at him through wet lashes, a small pout on your warming lips. “I'm losing blood, captain.”

The simple sentence gets him to clamp up, face suddenly serious.

“Bring me a coconut!” You yell, pout replaced with a small smile. You hide your wincing with a bite of your lip, drawing blood. Looking at him upside down, he has his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

“You're insufferable.” He quotes you before immediately jogging over towards the tropical forest behind you.

“And I, you.” You whisper into nothingness, touching your lips with the pads of your fingers.

—

The fire cackles next to you, the flames dance in your vision just like the fire that devoured the revenge. Smoke fills your lungs again, you cover your nose with your arm, eyes closed, trying to forget what happened. What you did.

Hobie holds a circular pendant tied to a stick, the metal glows red hot, the engraving of a wave twirls as he moves it closer to you.

You clutch the back of your head, it still stings when you press down, at least you're not freezing and wet anymore thanks to the fire next to you.

“How do I do this?” He asks, eyes flicking to your pained face.

“Just place the metal on top of my wound for a few seconds then take it off immediately. I don't want a piece of metal in me.” Your voice is muffled by your arm.

“Show me.”

Lifting up your blouse, you hiss, fabric sticking to the angry wound, revealing where the bullet pierced you. “He nicked me so there's no bullet to take out.”

“Less work for us then. Ready?”

“Yes, just use the plain side. I don't want it to leave a mark.”

“Bad news, scuttlebutt. It'll leave a mark.”

“Not what I meant. The wave, I don't want it to leave a shape.”

“I know.” Without warning, he places the bare side of the pendant on your wound. Skin sizzling, you bite into your arm, yells tamped down. Other hand gripping into his elbow. It's an unimaginable pain, you can't believe Hobie survived through two of these.

He flings it away, careful not to add to your pain. “You alright?”

You heave, a tear escaping from your eye. “I guess I deserved that.” Looking at him through half lidded eyes, he gives you a weak smile.

“You would've flinched.”

“You're right, I would've flinched. At least I'm honest about it.” You let the air kiss your searing skin. Letting your head fall on the tree trunk behind you, He watches you like you're already dead. “It was a joke, Hobie—”

“What happened to you? Below deck?” He shakes his head, glaring at your neck. You instinctively hide it under your hand, it's still tender to the touch.

“Had a run in with a very bad man. I got him though…” you nudge him with your foot. “I'm—” you can't find the right words. “I'm sorry about the ship, I had to defend myself, I didn't know the fire would—”

“The ship was already gone the moment Mathias found us.” Those grey eyes look at you intensely, remnants of the storm still leave traces behind them. “Don't apologize, you got him, that's all that matters.”

“I burned him alive, Hobie.” You blurt it out, confessing your sins. “I shot a man. I–I don't…It matters that I did that.”

He sits closer, leaving the searing metal next to him on the fire. Holding your knee, he tentatively touches your hand before he reaches for it fully. Skin meeting skin, hand holding yours, the same grey eyes soften for you.

“Let it matter then. But don't let it in, don't let them try to kill you a second time. Bury their bodies if you have to but don't mourn them.”

“Can we do that? Bury them? Not metaphorically, even without the bodies.”

“Yes, if you want to. I'll help you dig.”

You nod, gliding your thumb along the ridges of his hand. After a beat, you swallow a lump in your dry throat. “I can still hear his screams.” avoiding his eyes, you look down at the grains of sand, your tears leave patches of darker soil in its wake.

Hobie squeezes your hand. “I'll quiet it down for you.”

“How?” you look at him, eyes questioning, eyes weeping.

“I'll talk over it, make you listen to something else other than the screaming.”

You give him a tight lipped smile, forced, tears threatening to fall. You can't ignore their faces anymore. “Finn, Ned and—”

“We'll bury them too, and we'll mourn them. They deserve that much.”

“They deserve more, Hobie. Much more.” he pulls you in, seeking comfort from each other. Arms enveloping you. You let him take you in, his scent replacing the smoke clinging to your lungs.

“They do,” Mindful of each other's injuries, you lay your head on his uninjured shoulder, face buried on the crook of his neck. He does the same, nose kissing your skin. “they deserve better.”

He finds that his arms are molded to fit you.

“The others? Do you know they're alright?”

“I saw them escape, that's all I know.” You lean away, looking at him with worry. “We'll find them, but knowing Gwen they'll find us first, yeah?” he cups your jaw. “We'll get out of here, I promise.”

“I'll hold you to that.” You nod, leaving his warmth, back landing on the wood, letting yourself fall back to your old ways.

Hobie still has his hands shaped to fit you. “We have to survive first.” He taps your shoe. “Do mine next.” He lifts up his shirt, showing you all the angry gashes like a prized trophy. “Then our scars will truly match.”

—

Shoes discarded on the sand, you wade through the seafoam with Hobie. The sun glares, puffy clouds shielding you from the heat. A breeze passes by, seagulls squawk above.

“We could eat those.” He pipes up, kicking something under the sand.

“The sand?”

“The birds, thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” Leaning down, he grabs something red buried in the sand. “Help me with this.”

You stretch your shoulders, careful of your own injuries. Copying his stance, you both pull. “How do we even catch one?”

“Pistol, a spear or a trap.” He does all the work of pulling while you're still aching. His injuries still hurt but he'd rather do all the work than let you strain yourself. “Trust me, after eating fish for three days straight, you'd beg for something else to eat.”

“You think we'll be stuck here for three days?” you tug in sync, pulling it with all your strength.

“Maybe more—” he scoffs, finally hauling the fabric out. “It's our sail. Bloody hilarious.” the crimson lay half buried in the sand, tattered.

Ned would hate seeing it like this.

You trace the stitching around the edges, remembering how his expert hands once weaved around it.

“Oi” he brushes his knuckles on your hand to get your attention. You feel his broken skin briefly. “We could use this as our roof.”

“Mm-hmm, you do that and I'll continue searching around the shore. Maybe my satchel got washed up too” you let go of the cloth, already walking away.

“Nah, I'll come with.” He bunches up the sail in his arms, drowning his entire body in red.

Crimson like the eyes of the beast.

You shake your head, giving him a faint smile. “We can't stay together the entire time we're here. We'd drive each other crazy.”

Hobie catches up to you, wide strides and long legs sauntering over to your side. “Good thing I'm already bonkers.” he passes by you, looking over his shoulders to see your wide eyes looking at him. “Hurry up before the sun sets.”

You shake your head, jogging to walk by his side. “I bet in three days we'd start killing each other.”

He snorts. “I beg to differ.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

After a minute of walking along the beach, you find a washed up crate. Hobie opens it with the butt of his gun, punching a hole straight through. You pray that it's medical supplies or at least food.

He laughs, clutching his side, leaning on the box. Beckoning your confused self, he drapes his arm around your shoulder, showing you the contents.

You blink confused at the brown bricks. “Is this tea?”

He continues to chuckle like he heard an inside joke that you're not privy to. Taking one in his hand, he weighs it, surprised that it wasn't damaged by the sea water, he thanks whoever packed it well.

Opening the packaging, he brings it close to your nose. “Here.”

You flinch back, burnt skin tugging on your side. “What the hell! I'm not smelling that!”

He laughs louder, you wonder if his injuries ache too. “Just smell it and tell me what you think it is.”

“No! What if it's solid shit?”

“It's not! Solid shit? Really?” His broken lips hurt as he smiles wider. “Do you not trust me?”

You suck in your teeth, “fine, if this is shit I'm drowning myself.” With apprehension, you lean forward to sniff. “Is that?” You sniff again, this time with a laugh. “Holy shit!”

“It's bloody chocolate.” You grab his hand, smelling the sweet treat. “Guess you got your wish. An entire crate of ‘em too.”

“I can't fucking believe that it hasn't melted yet!” He hands you the entire bar and you grin. You both guessed that one of the navy ships was carrying it. “We only need a crate full of alcohol and we're good.”

Hobie clasps your arm, “We can stay here forever if we do find one.”

“Fuck off.” You say in between laughs. “I'm not staying here forever—” your smile falters, fear enters your body.

“What?” He turns around, following your line of sight.

A body, there's a body washed up on the shore. It's draped in a blue uniform and seaweed, seagulls land near it, tentatively pecking.

“Stay here.” He murmurs, draping the sail on top of the crate. You grasp his hand before he leaves your side. “Y/N, stay here.”

“No, what if he's still alive?” you hold on to him tighter.

He nods, eyes roaming your tensed face, your shoulders are straight, eyes staying on the body. “Alright, but walk behind me, yeah?”

You nod.

With every step, your fear encapsulates you further down to your feet, the warmth on your soles keeps you alert. Yet, your hand stays on the cold hilt of your dagger.

Hobie kicks the corpse, it stays unmoving. A group of crabs start to scavenge the body, pinching and taking skin.

“He's dead. No need to worry.” He looks at you over his shoulder, glancing at your tight grip on the dagger.

“What if we're not the only ones here?” your breath shudders at the thought.

“I'll sweep the island—”

“We'll sweep the island.”

He doesn't protest, knowing you won't take no for an answer. “Fine, just—” grabbing your hands, he fixes your hold on the dagger, guiding your fingers around the hilt. You freeze on the spot. “There, better.” He tugs at the weapon, it doesn't budge in your hold. “Now they can't take it from you. Don't let them take it away from you.”

“I won't, I promise.”

—

The island is small, smaller than you thought it would be. Green foliage and tropical trees cover half of the island. Dry leaves crunch under your foot, critters slither and chatter under the tall grass, making you conscious of where you land your feet. The rays of the sun peek behind the tree tops. Exotic sounding birds sing above the branches, their rainbow feathers fly overhead, leaving a breeze to flutter against your cheeks.

You almost run into Hobie when he stops abruptly. He whistles out, reaching blindly behind him to grasp your hand.

“Come on.”

Surprisingly enough, you don't let go, locking your fingers around his, letting the warmth course through your skin.

You hear rushing water.

“We're fuckin' lucky.” He pauses, watching you peek from behind to see what's in front.

You're in awe at the small waterfall, misty water cascading like unfurled silk; it splashes cool water down into a plunge pool. Before you know it, Hobie's stripping down to his knickers.

“Woah! A bit of a warning!” You cover your eyes quickly.

He hoots before you hear a loud splash.

Hobie calls your name, you can hear his smile from how he utters it.

“It's fresh water! We can drink this!” He yells over the sound of the waterfall.

“I'm not drinking your bath water!” You still avoid him, glancing all over the place except for where he swims.

“The water isn't stagnant! It's clean! Come over here!”

“No!”

“I'm not fuckin' naked, Y/N! Just fuckin' come here.”

With a stomp of your foot and a click of your tongue, you glance at him, avoiding staring at his bottom half.

“Someone else could still be here, Hobie and you're relaxing!”

“No one's here, trust me. We've swept the entire place, there's no one here. Jus’ us” He floats and you immediately look away. Laughing, he lets the water wash over him.

“Well I'm glad you're having fun!” You say sarcastically. “But I'll walk around so you don't get stabbed in the water.”

“I can finally teach you how to swim! Get in!” He teases, knowing you won't actually swim with him while he's practically in his birthday suit.

“Nope!” You walk away but still staying close to him. “Maybe when you're not naked I'll reconsider!”

“Suit yourself! Wait!” You pause, “Stay close, yeah?”

Nodding, you wave with the dagger.

You walk around the area, avoiding colorful flowers that you're too afraid to touch. Hands grazing the top of the tall grass, you gasp when a familiar plant catches your sight.

“What?!” You hear Hobie shout, “you alright?!”

“I'm fine!” You yell back. “Keep floating like a turd!”

He laughs, a second later you hear splashing.

—

You sit on the banks of the pool, tired muscles sagging into the dirt, your pockets are full of medicinal herbs. You're just glad you found the right plants that can help to stave off infection. If only you had a mortar and pestle then it'll help with digesting the bitterness better.

Drawing swirling patterns on the dirt with your dagger, you don't look at him, only flicking your eyes to see if he hasn't drowned from napping in the water. He floats aimlessly, skin glistening under the sun, toned chest and scars in full display. You huff, moving your eyes away from his body. Yet your mind wonders where he got them, it's better to think about it than letting your mind wander back to what happened on the revenge and your almost death.

The slight sting of your injuries helps keep you awake at least.

“You hungry?” You almost jump when he suddenly appears on the edge of the pool, arms tucked under his chin, grey eyes looking expectantly at you.

“A little. You?”

“Starving. We're gonna need to make a shelter soon.” Hobie twists in place, head resting on the ground, face staring up at the afternoon sky.

You scooch closer, he smiles when your upside down face fills his vision. “Do you know where we are?”

“No, I'm guessing we're in one of the thousand islands. We were near it when we—Just be glad that we didn't land on a cannibal island.”

“There's no such thing.” He reaches up, wiping the sweat off your brow. “Right?” you almost lean into his touch.

“We got attacked by a bloody sea monster, ‘m sure there's an island somewhere with cannibals.”

“True.” You shrug, trying not to remember what the beasts look like or even sound like. “Did you piss your pants too when they came up from the water?” Teasing, you fall into relaxation with him.

“No, I shat myself.” You laugh loudly. Hobie thinks he has the best seat in the house. “Can't fuckin' believe they're real.” He can't believe you're real.

“Still feels like a dream. Someone has to know those things exist.” The sun illuminates the side of your face, lighting up your features. He can't help but reach up again with the same excuse to wipe your face. “Thanks, I'm sweating a lot.”

“Really? I haven't noticed.” You roll your eyes. “Maybe if you take a dip then—”

“Nope.” To his dismay, you move away from his view. “Come on, fishman, we need to get started on shelter.”

“I just said that.” He stands up, groaning along the way, you look away. “and really? Fishman? That the best you can do, stinky?”

“Stinky?” You cross your arms on your chest, hearing clothes shuffle behind you. “What are you five?”

“Could say the same thing to you,” his face suddenly appears on your shoulder. You yelp, groaning comically, briskly walking away in annoyance. “Wrong way, scuttlebutt.”

You turn heel, trudging in a different direction while he chuckles.

—

Standing in knee deep sea water, the sun beaming down, soft sand under your toes and your stomach growling to be fed, you stand near Hobie whose trousers are folded up to his knees. The water laps at your legs, warm enough to be comfortable but cool enough to keep you in the water. Tiny fish weave around your legs, their fins brushing your skin.

“There!” you point too fast that you pull a muscle but you pay it no mind when Hobie misses the fish again with his makeshift spear.

“Fuck!” The spear is sticking out of the sand, Hobie who is equally starving kicks the water, it splashes all over your blouse.

Great, you're hungry and wet.

You huff loudly, frustrated like the man next to you. “I'm hungry.”

“I know.” He says flatly. Taking out the spear, he aims again.

The fish wiggle in the water like it's mocking Hobie.

“Maybe we can survive eating chocolates and coconut for the rest of our days?” You wipe the sweat off the back of your neck. “Or I can start catching some crabs.”

“Fuck this!” He yells, drawing his gun, he shoots at the fish, the bullet hits the water like a tiny cannonball, splashing you again.

It's a bullseye.

You scream when he grabs the still bleeding fish. Hobie smiles wildly, yelling triumphantly.

You both jump up and down in the water giddily.

—

The fire roars in front of you, your dinner needs some seasoning but it's better than sleeping hungry with only chocolate to fill your stomach. Times like this you miss Finn's cooking, and him.

Hobie looks at you through the fire, he's thinking of the same thing. Wishing that he wasn't.

“What kind of fish is this?” you break the quiet to stop your thoughts.

“The edible kind.”

“You have no idea do you?” Narrowing your eyes at him, you scoff.

“Fuck if I know.” Hobie shrugs, scrunching his nose.

“You're a pirate.” You stop chewing.

“Yes and? I'm not a bloody fisherman.”

“I thought you'd know, because you're in the sea most of the time.”

“Fishing was James’ job not mine.”

“Kinda wishing James was here then.” You murmur but he still hears.

“Give me your bloody fish, you ungrateful bastard.” he reaches towards you and in turn you pull your fish away from him.

“No!” he chuckles at your reaction, shaking his head before silence drapes over the peace you've both created.

You keep munching on the plain mystery fish. Hobie was kind enough to catch (shoot) another fish so you don't have to share one. It's flaky in your hands, now you smell like sweat, blood and fish. The greatest smell combination in the world.

You chew, “I need new clothes.” and a bath but you'll never admit it to Hobie.

“That bloke has some,” he points with his chin at the dead body, laying further at the beach.

“Ew, I'd rather stay in these.” You grimace, looking down at the tattered and singed cloth that's holding on to its last leg.

“I don't mind that, I can actually see your elbows from here.” he smirks, trying to look flirty but with him chomping on a fish head it ended up looking more hilarious than cute.

“My elbows? Oh you pervert.” Yet there's heat behind your cheeks even when his own cheek is covered in fish scales. “Should we bury him?” you change the subject.

“We should or it'll stink,” he flicks his grey eyes at you, the simple act wakes up the butterflies in your stomach, or maybe that's the fish. “like you.”

“I don't stink” a lie of course.

Hobie laughs into his half eaten fish. “I can smell you from here.”

“No you don't, that's the fish!”

“What's the difference?”

You flick a fin at him, it hits him on his head, sticking to his hair. Laughing, you take another bite, something hard almost breaks your tooth. You stop giggling, spitting out a round metallic thing.

Realization hits you, Hobie peeks at your hand,

His sudden loud guffaw makes you throw the bullet at him. He dodges it, still laughing hard and with a fish fin stuck to his hair.

“This is why fishermen don't shoot at fish!” You end up cackling too, finding his laughter contagious. “I almost bit into it!”

He guffaws louder, hiding his face and you get a full view of the fin on his hair. You shake your head, standing up to sit next to his shaking form.

“Stop moving! Let me get that thing off.” You grab it, throwing it into the fire.

His laughter subsides, staring at you with those stormy eyes. He sniffs, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for you to say something that could hurt or for him to say something that would make you leave. But you don't and he stays silent. Just reveling in each other's presence.

You read his expression, his lips still hidden under his hand but his eyes say everything. You don't want to ruin the night but you have to tell him or it'll eat at you, not letting you sleep and you ending up looking at him with pity and grief. You don't want that, you want to continue to look at him like you've recently found out from Miles, with reverence and fondness that's out of your reach.

“I'm sorry.” Your words don't hurt him but your expression brings a pang in his heart. “About…everything.”

“‘s not your fault.” Grief knocks on his door and he refuses to answer. “Nothin' to be sorry about.”

“Feels like it is.”

“You're not the one who killed them.” Grief tries to barge in on him, he blocks the door, still refusing to let it in. “There's nothin' to forgive.”

“Still, I'd like to apologize. They were good men.” Against your own better judgment, you take his hand, he doesn't flinch away, even twisting his hand to hold yours properly.

“Do you want to say goodbye? To them?” he murmurs like he isn't sure of it himself.

Hobie refuses to let it in, not again, not in front of you.

“Yes, but we'll do it once you're ready.” You whisper to him like the world could hear his secret.

Hobie sighs. Heart aching, he doesn't want to say goodbye, if it was up to him he'd never—

“Hobie?” You call his name softly, “If you need help with silencing the screams,” a shaky breath escapes you. “I'm here.”

He frowns, seeing her face and not yours for a brief second. Changing tune, he takes his hand away. “Thanks.” It's your turn to frown.

You inhale, “I'll go grab us some water for uh cleaning our wounds. I'll clean them before bed.” Walking away, you leave him alone with his thoughts, he hopes you turn back around, but you don't.

—

Hobie takes first watch, torso exposed to the sea wind, letting it calm the searing pain of his injuries. He observes for any boats or ships on the horizon, even hoping for a box full of medical supplies to wash ashore.

He rubs his heavy eyes, it's supposed to be your turn but he lets you sleep in, after everything he'd let you rest as long as you need to. Looking over his shoulder, the simple act makes him wince. He stares at your sleeping face, calm and angelic under the warmth of the fire, and he can't help but feel jealous. You're situated under the shabby shelter, protected by the red sail that's fluttering in the breeze. Foot twitching, you scrunch up your nose in your sleep,

Chuckling, he turns back around to face the beach.

There's still nothing but seagulls flying above the water and crabs digging into the sand.

Yawning, he shakes his head wildly to keep awake. So he decides to walk around the beach, stretching his throbbing muscles.

As Hobie kicks the sand between his toes, he finds himself standing next to the navy man's corpse. He stares at the lifeless eyes, lips blue, skin so pale it blends in with the sand. The crabs still eat the remains, pinching and taking bits. He scoffs, knuckles shaking, nails leaving crescent shapes on his palms.

He doesn't deserve to be buried, Hobie thinks. And he definitely doesn't need her pity. So he takes the man's legs, slowly dragging it down to the shore until it floats. The rush of waves wakes him up, cold water dousing his lower half. Hobie pushes it away roughly, letting the tides take it, letting the sea claim it like it has claimed his friends.

He watches it slowly drift away, yet his anger doesn't subside. The fire in him is still burning ever brighter. He mentally promises the crew he lost that he'll avenge them. That he'll get Mathias, even if it kills him.

Your screams bring him back to reality. Bolting away, wading through the water, the sand hinders his sprinting, he quickly runs to your side.

“Oi, oi!” Hobie watches your terrified face morph into relief when you see him. “What's wrong? Crab in your knickers?” He stops his joking when tears slide to your cheeks, your entire body is shaking. His chest heaves at your sobbing. Voice cracking when he utters your name, Hobie lets you breathe, holding on to your shoulders firmly.

You stare at him through the tears. “I–I dreamt that you left me here.” His façade breaks into two. “And I w–woke up and you weren't here. I thought—”

“I would never. I won't leave.” You continue to weep so he holds you, not to make you stop but to help steady you through it. He'd hold onto you every minute of every day if he has to.

It's frightening how well you two fit together, limbs tangled around one another. Like a pair of wings, one cannot fly without the other. And that terrifies you through the embrace.

“I'm s-sorry, I really thought.” You find your place atop his chest, face buried on his skin, his scars kissing your cheeks. Hands gripping to the small of his back, your nails almost digging.

“‘m here, ’m not leaving you, promise.” Hobie intends to keep it, not for your sake but for his.

[labrxnth]

Prison Break- Part 10 (Leon Kennedy x Reader Series)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER

Tag list:

WC: 5348

CW: Alcohol, SMUT VERY MUCH SMUT, oral, vaginal, dubious consent (If you squint. They both had like one drink)

A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait, take this as my apology. This is also my second time ever writing smut so uhhh take it as it is.

Summary: You and Leon go to a holiday dinner hosted by your friends. But surprise, you're feeling melancholic.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

The freshly fallen snow had covered the surroundings of Washington D.C.. Looking like icing or a weighted blanket, it brought a chill yet a warmth. This season had the tendency to do this to you, after all this was the holiday for nostalgia. 

Your footsteps crunched on the snow as you made your way through the hip level gate into the front yard of the small house. Being from the north, “farming country” as the people in Boston called it, it always amused you what people would consider a yard. For most of America it meant a small area in the front of the house covered with dead grass. There were no woods here. 

There was no place to run like you used to as a kid.No place to explore uncharted, besides people. 

You would rather deal with the isolating darkness in the woods than try to figure out people. But, you were trying and that’s all that mattered.

A hand brushed up against yours, finding it and slipping into it. The warmth being spread even through layers of gloves and mittens caught your attention, bringing you back to reality. 

Your head turned to your right as the one person you may have just figured out stood next to you. 

“You okay? You seem a little spacey,” Leon’s voice asked, a billow of smoke coming out of his mouth into the freezing cold. 

“Yeah, just homesick,” You replied. 

Leon’s eyebrow raised, asking a silent question. Wasn’t this your home?

With a sigh, you leaned closer to him, shoulder to shoulder and still walking in tandem. “As much time as I spend here, I’m not sure it’ll feel like home,” You said. 

“Maybe that’ll change,” He replied. His arm raised to wrap around your shoulders and pull you into his warmth more. “But I get it, I still miss my life from before… everything.”

“Will it change?” You asked as the two of you stopped on the small wooden porch. Your eyes met his.

“The way I’ve learned it is that connections make a place home. You have friends here now, at least more than you used to,” Leon said and shrugged. “And y’know, you have more important people too.”

You stared blankly at him, confused at what he was hinting at. After a few seconds of silence between the two of you, Leon looked away, 

“My girlfriend doesn’t think I’m important to her,” He added, feigning offense.

Your eyes widened as your arms wrapped around him in an apology. “You confused me,” You said, frowning at him. “I thought you were talking about a family member or something,” You grumbled. 

Leon stared back at you, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips. “Oh so I’m not a-”

He got cut off by you grabbing a fistful of snow and throwing it at him. 

“Jesus (Y/n), you are a thirty-two year old woman,” Leon said, wiping the snow off and spitting the parts that got in his mouth out. You would've thought he was being serious if it weren’t for the glint in his eyes.

“Don’t be a dipshit,” You said lightly and helped him get the snow off his face. 

“I thought you like my wit and charm,” He said, his voice carrying that teasing cadence that you had come to learn. 

“Who told you that? I’m only dating you for your looks,” You said facetiously, a grin on your face. 

“I don’t blame you.”

You were about to say something back when the front door suddenly opened in front of you. In the door stood Chris Redfield. He had on an ugly Christmas sweater with a garble of words on it that you couldn’t make out, a reindeer antler headband, and a flat expression on his face. 

Your hand covered your mouth, trying to hide the giggle that was almost coming out. In your peripheral, you could see that Leon was grinning almost ear to ear, amused at Chris’s appearance.

“You two are late,” Chris said and glanced at Leon.

“Why are you looking at me? It’s not my fault!” Leon said.

Chris looked at Leon, not believing him for a second. “I know (Y/n), it was definitely not her fault.” He said, crossing his arms and looking at Leon amused. “Anyways, everyone else is inside, leave your shoes at the door.” He turned to walk back into the house. 

With Chris’s absence, you could feel the warmth emitting from the house. It beckoned the two of you inside. Leon let you go in first, closing the door behind the two of you. You kicked off your snow boots and smelled the familiar smell of a heater running. 

You went to take your scarf off, but Leon beat you to it, spinning you slightly as he did so. The spin brought you closer to him and his body, leaving only a few inches between your faces. 

He had a knowing grin on his face, seeming amused with himself for being able to do that. 

“You know we’re with other people, right?” You asked and raised an eyebrow. 

Leon Kennedy was a gentleman at heart, but you knew that when he was being over the top it usually meant he wanted attention. He was a gentleman, but also somewhat like a male bird. Always wanting your attention and doing things to get it. 

“I know, gotta show off how good of a boyfriend you have,” Leon replied and kissed your cheek. Your fingers laced together when you and Leon’s hands found each other naturally. 

After a swift kiss, the two of you made your way into the living room, placing a bottle of wine and a bottle of whiskey on the counter. You didn’t expect the company to notice you walking in, but everyone said something of a greeting. 

Jill was on the couch with Chris, she smiled in recognition at you and your heart fluttered a bit. 

Had you mentioned before that Jill looked a lot like Leon and it confused your little heart? Not to mention her completely badass “get shit done” attitude made her very impressive. 

You watched as her arm draped across Chris’s shoulders and the two of them smiled warmly at each other. 

Leon started chatting with Claire while you found a spot on the floor next to your favorite Professor, Rebecca Chambers. Ever since you met the woman, you had a lot of respect for her; she was a biochem college professor, a PhD doctor, a previous S.T.A.R.S. member, and a kickass combat medic. She also had a warm attitude that made any situation more manageable. 

You had come to be friends with her after that whole mess with Glen Arias. 

“Merry Christmas, (Y/n),” Rebecca said and gave you a warm smile. 

You said the same back and the two of you began talking about how the past few months had gone. It had officially been five months since Alcatraz and while you wanted to keep in touch, it took a nudge from Leon to reach out to people. 

The living room was filled with a type of warmth you hadn’t experienced since before your world came crashing down around you. You hadn’t felt like this since…..

Since New Hampshire…

Home.

 “Okay guys, onto our first holiday tradition!” Claire said with authority, standing up. 

“Do we have to this ye-” Chris started.

“Yes, we do, don’t be a grouch!” Claire said, staring at her brother. 

You looked at the two of them and lightly smiled as memories flooded you. 

You had a family. You knew they were still alive, but they didn’t know you were. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

February 24th 2009

The snow felt different here than you were used to. What was a beautiful blanket of snow in your small apple farming town, was a bitter, sharp, force of nature in the city. 

You always had mixed feelings about Boston, on one hand it was fun to have a major city an hour away from your house, but on the other hand you liked the distance. You tended to keep a distance, a separation between the city and your hometown. 

That’s what your parents did anyways. They came from the city, opting for a small town with good education to raise you and your brother. But now, you were back in the cold city, your usual coffee order sitting on the table in front of you while your eyes searched for anyone familiar. 

Your head leaned on your hand as you thought about this time of year. Your birthday was a month ago, but it wasn’t celebratory. You got a pat on the back from your Captain for making it one more year around the sun. 

If your captain knew you snuck out, you’d be discharged, your thoughts ran wild. And if you get discharged, you catch the discharge out of a gun, you know too much.

Your leg started bouncing up and down, something you had started doing since joining USStratcom. 

If you didn’t see them, it wasn’t worth it. The torture you were put through every day wasn’t worth it if you couldn’t just see the people you did this for. 

When the government found you after what happened in Manchester, your options were either to join USStratcom and get trained to fight whatever horror you saw that night or to decline. If you declined, you would’ve been checked out of this world early, your blood spilling on the ground and your family would soon join you. 

The U.S. government didn’t like loose ends. 

Your eyes searched the sidewalk as you finally saw a glimpse at who you came here for. 

Across the street, a woman threw back her rain coat’s hood, revealing the same face that was your own, only more aged. Your mother reached into her purse to find something, then produced a key. She put it in a door and walked up a flight of stairs and out of sight. 

Just like that, she appeared and was gone. Within the span of thirty seconds. She was just passing, going into her apartment like she did everyday. IT was something so small, but to you it meant the world. 

You saw a light turn on in a room on the fifth floor. From your seat, you could see the curtain moving and the sight of a man around your age appeared in the window. 

They were alive and living their lives, unaware of what happened to you.

The government didn’t answer any questions about you to your family, they just took you as soon as you agreed to join USStratcom. 

You brought your coffee out the door with you, taking your umbrella out and opening it. Using the crosswalk, you walked across the street and looked at the door your mom entered. 

It was almost like you could feel the red dot appear on your back as a bead of sweat rolled down your face. You shouldn’t go in, you shouldn’t have even seen them. 

But you wanted them to know you were okay…. 

The rain hit the sidewalk and the sound of the doorbell could be heard inside of the apartment. However, when the woman opened the door, the person who rang it was gone, leaving only the ghost of memories and a single flower on the welcome mat. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

“(Y/n)?” Leon’s voice cut through the memory, bringing you back to Jill’s house.

You blinked a bit, shaking your head slightly and looked down at the table. Somehow, while enthralled in the memory, you had sat down at the dining table and started playing a board game with everyone else. It would be impressive, if it wasn’t scary how good you were at that. 

Your eyes looked down at the money you owned in the game and you rolled the dice. Your turn went quickly, as you wanted this to be done. 

It felt like you had gotten ripped out of a separate reality. And for all intents and purposes, you did. 

Leon’s hand went to the back of your chair and he searched your face, knowing something was wrong. 

“Hey, Redfield, play for me. And Jill, play for (Y/n).” Leon said and stood up, nodding to the other room. 

You followed him as you heard Chris grumbling about not wanting to play. 

The voices and the light from the dining room started getting more distant the further you went into Jill’s house. Leon motioned for you to head into the guest room and you did without question. 

When Leon walked in, he closed the door behind him. “What’s going on?” He asked and looked down at you. His hand came up to stroke your cheek and he cupped your face. 

“It’s nothing… just a memory,” You replied, your gaze sinking to the floor. 

“Just a memory? Raccoon City could be ‘just a memory’. Nothing is small if it affects you this much.” Leon replied, now holding your face with two hands. 

He tilted your head up so you were looking at him. “Please, tell me. We promised to talk to each other.” He added.

If anyone could melt your heart easily, it was Leon Kennedy. Even as a late 30s year old man, he could act like a little puppy. Especially now when he was giving you the stare that unwound your heart. 

“It was a memory about sneaking away from training and seeing my mom.” You replied, your arms reaching out for him. He pulled you closer and leaned his head on top of yours. 

“She knows you’re alive?” Leon asked. 

“No. I made sure she didn’t see me. This life is too hard to have a family in.” You answered and nestled into him. “Except for maybe other people that know this life.” You added and looked up at him. To add a certain element to it, you bat your eyelashes at him, hoping he would fall for the bait. 

“Very cute, but I’m not falling for it,” Leon said, a smile on his lips. “We’re not leaving early.”

You pouted at him. “That’s not what I meant…” You grumbled. 

Leon’s lips met your forehead in a quick kiss, then his lips met yours. The softness of his lips against your skin set everything in you ablaze. He was your warmth on a cold day like today. 

“Is that what you were looking for?” He asked. 

“Actually, yes,” You replied and chuckled. The two of you stared at each other with the magnitude of two planets coming together. His soft blue eyes met your (e/c) ones. 

“I don’t know what to do with you sometimes,” He said, sighing. The usual smirk was plastered on his face. “But seriously, we promised to be communicative with each other, and I want to know what’s going on in that pretty brain of yours.”

His lips met your temple in a quick peck. 

“Okay,” You replied. Your hands wrapped around his waist and you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“Feeling better?” He asked. His hands ran up and down your arms, soothing and warming you up. 

You nodded in reply, your face moving against his shirt. 

“Alright, let’s head back in there and get drunk,” Leon said facetiously and kissed your cheek again. “I’ll even let you sit on my lap if you’re good.” The grin on his face was enough for you to playfully slap his arm. 

“I'll take the offer but don't be weird about it,” You answered and stuck your tongue out. The two of you made your way back to the table and it was like walking into a battlefield.

It wasn’t hard to determine what happened, Claire and Chris were scrubbing the carpet with sponges, Rebecca was picking up broken glasses, Jill was picking up the board game that had been scattered on the floor. The table was tipped over and Chris had a guilty look on his face as he scrubbed away at the coffee and alcohol stains on Jill’s carpet. 

You and Leon helped put the table back and Jill put cards on the table. “Christopher, I swear to God if I have to ban you from playing fucking cards, I will,” She said and glared at him. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

The cards were dealt and the alcohol was poured. You were watching Leon play, as you were never one to play Texas Holdem; you could never get the rules down unless you had the chart of what was most valuable by your side. 

You were seated between Leon’s legs, your back against his chest. His head was leaned on your shoulder as he studied the cards in his hand. Your eyes looked at the cards as you took a sip from your glass. The alcohol smoothly went down your throat, surprising you. Whiskey usually didn’t appeal to you, but then again neither did wine. 

And your choice was one of the two. 

As you kept sipping from your glass, Leon’s arm around your waist tightened. “Slow down,” His voice gently warned you. 

You were used to drinks that you would shoot, and Leon could tell you would be in for a rough morning if you continued. Thanks to his words, you put the glass back down on the table and watched the game play out.

Claire won, as usual, and she collected the total of 5.00$ from the pile. You got more comfortable, squirming around in the chair as you did so. What you hadn’t taken into account was how close you were to Leon and that when you moved, you slightly rubbed up against him, earning you a slight, sharp inhale from your boyfriend. 

“Can you sit still?” Leon asked quietly, looking at you. You nodded in reply, noticing how his ears were red with blush. 

An idea came to your head. 

Was it fueled by the slight amount of whiskey in your system? Maybe, but it wasn’t abnormal for you to mess with Leon. If he was allowed to tease you, then certainly you were allowed to tease him. 

Without catching anyone else’s attention, you moved slightly, pressing your ass against his pants more. You moved slightly side to side, which caused Leon to slightly hiss and move his free hand from your waist to your hip to hold you still. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” He whispered in your ear. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up at how bothered he sounded. Maybe you were playing a dangerous game, but you were certainly ready for the consequences of your actions. 

You moved a little more, pressing yourself against him more-

With a pap!, Leon’s cards were put face up on the table. “Well guys, thanks for having us. Me and (y/n) still have work tomorrow, so we’re actually gonna head out,” Leon’s voice said.

“Really? In the middle of a game?” Jill asked, her eyebrow arched. 

Leon nodded adamantly. “The bosses want us in bright and early. (Y/n) doesn’t do mornings well, so it’s best to head home early. We’ll see you for New Year’s,” He said and tapped your hips to get you up. 

You stood up and he grabbed your hand leading you to the door to grab your shoes. 

“Bye! It was really fun, thanks for inviting me,” You said with a smile. 

“Of course, you’re part of the family now,” Claire said, matter-of-factly. 

Family…. 

The word rang in your ears and you thought about it, lingered on it so much that you hadn’t even noticed you were now getting out of your car in the parking garage. Leon’s hand was in yours as the two of you walked to the door. 

Claire had said family, you belonged. 

The thought could have brought tears to your eyes if you weren’t also thinking about your current situation. 

Suddenly, you were in your apartment, the door closing behind you and Leon pinning you to the door. 

“Really?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. His large, muscular forearm was right next to your head.

“What?” You asked, feigning innocence. 

He stared at you. “I told you that you were playing a dangerous game,” He added. 

A grin pulled at your lips as you slightly bit your bottom lip. “I know,” You replied. 

Leon pinched his nose and sighed. “I don’t know what to do with you sometimes,” He said. His eyes then locked with yours and he leaned in, leaving only a few inches of space between the two of you. “But other times, I know what I want to do to you.” His eyes turned into a fire, something you were now all too familiar with. 

“And what would that be?” You asked, tilting your head up to him. 

He leaned in close, almost like he was going to bite your neck, his breath hot against your neck. 

“I’m going to make you cum on my mouth, then my dick,” He said. 

Your face turned a deep shade of red at his words. “Is- is that a promise?” You asked, still trying to remain in control of your heart and emotions that were dialed all the way up. 

“You’re so cute when you try to fight how flustered you are,” He hummed and kissed your neck. His teeth lightly bit down and his lips left a mark as he pulled away. 

He picked you up by your waist, earning a yelp from your lips, and carried you through your apartment to the bedroom. He dropped you gently on the mattress and his lips were on yours in an instant.  

His knees were on either side of your legs and one of his hands was on your hip while the other one kept him upright on the bed. 

Your lips crashed together, begging to taste the other. Leon’s teeth lightly bit your bottom lip, asking for permission. You opened your lips and his tongue entered your mouth, searching for your own. Your tongues locked together and twirled in a way that could only be described as dancing. 

As you pulled away for a breath, you noticed his hands were already working on taking your pants off, the jeans being halfway down your legs. Leon’s eyes locked with yours again as a slight, cocky, smirk graced his face. 

“Tell me what you want,” He mused, his hand pulling your pants off all the way. Then, his hand came up to your hair, running through the strands. “Use your words, we promised to be communicative,” He added. 

“I need your mouth between my legs,” You said breathlessly. He took your words as a green light and almost ripped your panties off. 

Leon was a gentle lover most of the time, especially when you wanted him to be, but playing with him and getting him all riled up was the easiest way to make him intense. You had made the man desperate for you undone, wrapped around him. 

He moved lower, his lips trailing down your shirt and stomach. As he moved lower, his body inched lower, making room for him near your core. 

He grabbed a pillow and put it at the small of your back, angling your, now uncovered, entrance towards him. With a slight hum, he kissed the inside of your thigh, teasing you. 

His lips felt like feathers, then a sudden pain shot up your body. Leaning up on your elbows, and looking at him, you could see that he had slightly bit into your thigh, leaving a mark. He kissed your body like a man starved, like he had been deprived of a core need his entire life. Even though your sex life was colorful and frequent, he always treated you like he was tasting and feeling you for the first time. 

A jolt of pleasure finally hit you as his tongue found your clit, swollen in anticipation and arousal. A small moan escaped your lips as your head hung back, looking up at the ceiling. 

You could almost feel the smirk on his lips as he kissed your vulva, making sure to worship all of your parts and give them what they craved. His arms hooked around your thighs, bringing your body closer to his face. 

Your back arched against the pillow as another jolt of pleasure surged through you, feeling his tongue and lips paying attention to every part that needed it. You two had been together long enough for Leon to know where and how to pleasure you. He knew your body like his own, wanting to leave you so satisfied that you couldn’t talk. 

“Babe, babe, slow down!” You whimpered, your hand digging into his hair and pulling it slightly. “I’m gonna-” You were cut off by a moan leaving your lips. Your eyes met his and it felt like you were prey stuck in the gaze of a hunter. 

He pulled away slightly, giving you a bit of respite, and he titled his head. “Do you actually want me to slow down?” He asked, his eyes turning softer. 

You shook your head a bit and he nodded, leaning up to kiss your cheek. “I said what I wanted to do to you, don’t deny a man his partner’s pleasure,” He said and moved back down, assuming the position he had before. 

He kept lapping at your clit, making you flex your thigh muscles. The pleasure ran through your whole body as you hit your orgasm. A moan left your lips as you could feel your pussy clenching around something that wasn’t there, aching for him. Your body instantly relaxed into the mattress as you were coming down from your climax. Leon sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, licking his lips to clean up any of your cum from them. 

He pulled you closer to him and kissed your cheek again. Your hands found their way to his chest and ran over the muscles there as he started to take off his pants. 

His pants were off in a few seconds and the same with his boxers. You sat up and your hand went to feel his shaft, but his hand stopped you. He kissed your cheek again, his words hot on your ear. “Not tonight. I want to please you tonight,” He said quietly. 

His hands lifted your shirt over your head and his mouth was on your breasts. His hands wrapped around your back and unhooked your bra, leaving you completely bare to him. Your breath hitched as his lips made their way back to your neck. 

With ease, Leon had you in his lap, facing him. The two of you loved this position, being as close as you possibly could, facing each other. It felt intimate and it could be rough if the night permitted it. 

And tonight did permit it. 

Leon only took a few seconds to coat the tip of his dick with your climax. He teased your entrance, then slammed into you. A moan escaped both of your lips as his dicks slid effortlessly into you, your walls being accustomed to his size and shape by now. 

Your face leaned into his shoulder as he started snapping his hips into you. The movement made you wrap your arms around his neck like you would fall off. His hands went to your hips, making you move in opposition to his movements, making the come together all the more pleasurable. 

Leon moved your hair out of your face with one hand and he smiled at you. “God, you’re so beautiful like this. And only I get to see you this way,” He said, kissing your forehead. 

His words were enough to make your pussy clench around him more, causing a moan to fall out of his lips. 

“You take me so well, holy fuck,” He said breathlessly.

All that could be heard in the room was obscene sounds and Leon praising you between the two of your moans. 

The hot pleasure was building inside of you, and you could feel Leono’s dick twitching inside of you. 

“Where do you want it?” He asked quickly, trying to get the words out. 

“You can stay in,” You said, your eyes meeting his. He nodded, his eyes half squeezed shut from a nearing climax. 

In a moment that came together perfectly, pun intended, you reached your orgasm. You made a sound that was a mix of a whimper and a moan, pulling yourself closer to Leon in the process. You saw stars as you got sent over the edge, feeling your pleasure explode within you. 

With a slight haa Leon kept going, feeling his dick getting squeezed by your walls. “I’m gonna-” He got cut off by his own moan and he buried his face in your shoulder and snapped his hips into you a few more times. 

You felt his cum drip into you, evident by Leon panting and the back of his neck being red with a blush. Your hand gently ran through the hair on the back of his head, soothing him through his own orgasm. 

After a few minutes of being in your arms like this, he came back to. “I’ll go gr

After a few minutes of being in your arms like that, he came to. His breathing got more regular, going from a pant to barely being audible. His muscles relaxed and his grip on you got looser. 

“I’ll go grab you a towel,” He said and pulled out. Both of you winced at the sudden stimulation again and he got up to grab a towel from the bathroom.

He came back with a bowl of fruit, some water, and a towel. Climbing back on the bed, he put the water and fruit on the nightstand and gently cleaned you off with the towel. His hands made quick and easy work, making sure to clean off your sweat as well. 

After, he settled down next to you and pulled you into his arms. His arm wrapped around your waist and the other grabbed your snacks as he kissed your head. 

“How’re you feeling, (Y/n)?” He asked softly. 

“Good…” You mumbled and popped a raspberry in your mouth. 

The two of you laid together, regaining whatever energy you could in each others’ warmth. Leon tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and smiled warmly at you. 

“I think I found something I’ve been looking for for a long time,” He said blissfully. 

You raised an eyebrow and looked at him. 

“Someone that’s my family, someone I belong to. And someone that belongs to me,” He explained. 

Your eyebrows relaxed as you smiled at his words. 

Thinking about the past few months with this man, no the past few years, was enough to give you that same sense of warmth. He took you under his wing as a field partner, he never pried about your past until you wanted to open up to him. 

The endless amount of bar hang out, the numerous missions, all of came to mind. And you were finding yourself of the same mind as him. 

No matter your past, you were part of his family now, and he yours. The two of you were unstoppable on the field and in your relationship. You didn't know how to say all the thoughts and words swimming in your head, so you opted for three words that would sum it all up.

“I love you,” You said quietly and leaned into his embrace. 

His smile widened and he squeezed you closer. “I love you too,” He replied. 

No matter what fucked up bioweapon came your way next, you were certain that you could always come back to your family- Leon Kennedy. 

[agent-cupcake]

Flashbang

Chapter 2 - Le premier bonheur du jour

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: What happened while you were blackout drunk? What is your actual job on the crew? Why is there a lion on this pirate ship? These questions and more are left unanswered as you stumble your way through your first day on Captain Buggy's crew.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse

Word Count: 6.8k

“The first delight of the day Is a ribbon of sunlight It's the fresh breath of the sea And it’s the beach that awaits The first sorrow of the day Is the door that closes shut But soon after you come back And my life resumes its course."

x

Waking up, all you knew was that you were cold. Freezing, really, shivering so hard that you felt your bones tremble. It was because you weren’t dressed properly. You never slept in your underwear. You forced your bleary eye open and looked off the side of the bed, spotting your bag haphazardly abandoned alongside your boots and bandana. Bracing yourself for the chilly air, you pulled the blanket along like a cape to grab your bag, quickly retreating. Even that small movement left your head spinning painfully, a headache pounding twice into your skull, once at the base and again at the left temple. At least all of your clothes were clean, even if they had been mushed into a wrinkled ball. Moving as fast as possible you put on leggings and a sweater, tugging your fingers through your hair before pulling the bandana over your eye. After that, you huddled back under the blanket, staring at nothing and waiting for the shivers to stop. 

Between the headache and the cold, the only thing you wanted was to go back to sleep. That was the best way to deal with pain, or chills, or hunger, or whatever else you felt. If you were asleep, those things became automatic, you didn’t have to deal with them. 

You were halfway under when somebody knocked. 

At first, you hoped it was in your head. A dream. They knocked again, louder, calling your name. That was the thing to wake up the part of your mind that had been sleeping so soundly, that made you realize how wrong the situation was. 

Slowly, you sat up, looking around. You had slept in a bed that did not belong to you, wearing nothing except your underwear, in a room you had never seen before. The bed itself was set into the wall and hung with thick, velvety curtains. Windows lined the far wall, but they were covered enough to let in only the barest amount of light with more curtains and a familiar Jolly Roger, one with a red clown nose. After you recognized that, everything else fit into place. The desk littered with shiny clutter, the red and white theming, the odd mixture of grunge and opulence. You were on a ship. 

The person knocked again. Growing nervous, you threw off the blankets and pulled on your boots, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You had to cross through an anteroom to get to the door. It exchanged a desk and bed for couches, but was fundamentally the same. The air was cold. You opened enough so you could peer through the crack. Crina stood there, looking impatient. 

“So you are alive,” she said, giving you a once over with smokey dark eyes. “Barely.”

You opened the door a little further, blinking against the light. “What time is it?” you asked, your voice hoarse. 

“Nearly noon. Some ships were spotted so we had to leave earlier than expected, I’m surprised you slept through it all.”

You blinked, trying to make sense of what she was saying. Everything was blurry, bleary, a puzzle with a picture so worn you couldn’t make sense of it. 

“Did you have fun last night?” Crina asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I… I guess…” you said, confused. You remembered the drinking, and talking, and laughing, but the specifics were lost in a blurry whirl. “What time is it?” 

Crina rolled her eyes. “Okay, come on. You shouldn’t be in there.” She didn’t wait to see if you complied before turning around. You followed, stumbling a bit before getting your balance and shutting the door behind you. “Those were the captain’s quarters, and these are the officer’s rooms,” she said as you passed a few more doors. 

“That was Captain Buggy’s room?” you asked, your brain chugging to play catch up. The headache was awful. 

She shot you a frown over her shoulder. “You don’t remember?” 

“No.”

She shook her head, although you couldn’t see her expression. “We’re going down to the officer’s mess. Careful on the ladder.” 

She turned from the narrow hall to an equally narrow drop of steps, easily descending. Dizzy and a little sick, you didn’t match her grace, but you managed to avoid falling. 

With your recollection of the ships you had been on when you were young, you expected the officer’s mess to be fitted with elegant yet utilitarian finishings. Modest, but not so much that it forgot civilization. And, in another life, perhaps it had been. Now it was a pirate vessel, and they did what pirates always did. Various props lined the walls, batons and boxes and fabric and wheels and all kinds of other things. Red and white striped banners hung across support beams as if to mimic a big top tent. Signs of age and destruction were everywhere, indication of the tumultuous seizure, but it had once been a fine vessel. Crina didn’t pause to let you gawk, indifferent to the decor as she led you to another narrow hall and turned. You got an odd sense of deja vu there, pausing. 

“Are we going to the infirmary?” you asked, steadying yourself against the wall. 

“Yes,” Crina said as she unlocked the door. “You’ve sailed before?” 

“When I was young,” you said. “My dad was-” You cut yourself off there, realizing that the end of that statement wasn’t something you should reveal. Marines were the enemies of pirates. It wouldn’t look very good if you suddenly revealed that you were the daughter of a Marine Captain, retired or not. “That was a long time ago.” 

“I see,” she responded impassively, opening the door for you.  

The smell hit you hard, like a brick to the face. Scent formed a sort of endless memory, one so ingrained into your mind that you didn’t know exactly where it came from, that you couldn’t remember independently but never forgot. Your body locked up, arrested by the familiarity. Perhaps it was what every ship infirmary smelled of, even masked with the sweet aroma of incense and smoke.

“What are you doing?” Crina asked. 

You shook your head quickly, holding your breath as you hurried in. It wasn’t like it was actually the same. The room looked far more like a place of mysticism than medicine, with a rainbow of glass bottles lining the far wall, herbs hanging to dry, and scarfs draped to hide the stark wall. It wasn’t even slightly the same. Slowly, you released your held breath. It was fine. 

“Sit,” Crina told you, shutting the door and immediately busying herself at the sideboard. You sat down on the table-like bed set into the wall, your shoulders and head immediately drooping. The surface was hard, meant for surgery rather than sleeping, but you didn’t care. With the weight of your head, you would have happily drooped down onto the floor. “Have you ever been drunk before last night?” 

“No.” 

“How do you feel?” 

“Tired,” you answered. “My head really hurts.” 

“Of course it does, you’re dehydrated,” she said, pouring water into a tin cup. The sound alone perked you up, made your parched tongue that much more dry. She added a spoon of powder before turning and offering it to you.

“Thank you,” you said, taking the cup. You intended to take it slow, but the second you got a taste of water, you couldn’t stop until it was gone.

“That’s two times,” Crina said when you were done and wiping your lips. “Two times that I could have poisoned you.” 

You frowned, looking down at the cup and back up at her. “That was medicine, wasn’t it? Like before.” 

“It’s already in your body, it doesn’t matter if you know what it was.” 

You averted your gaze, flushing. “I’m sorry.” 

Crina didn’t respond to that, approaching you instead. “How’s the bump on your head?” 

“It’s fine,” you said reflexively. It hurt, of course. It would hurt for a while. 

“May I check?” Crina asked. You hesitated, but eventually nodded, turning to give her access. The second she prodded the sore spot, you yelped, tears springing into your eye. “Ice will help with the pain and swelling.” She paused, smoothing your hair back into place. “Did you and Buggy have sex last night?”

“What?” you asked, whirling around. The quick movement did not help your sore head, sending little sparks of pain down your spine, your left temple thumping in protest. 

“You slept in his bed after a night alone on the ship, it’s not an unreasonable question. Everybody will assume, but I’m asking you. Did you and Buggy have sex.” 

“No!” you said, blushing furiously. “No. Captain Buggy wouldn’t… I can’t… There’s no way.”

“Earlier, you didn’t even know it was his bed. Could something have happened and you don’t remember?” Crina asked, her tone softening. You stared at her, stricken, your heart racing with sheer panic. “I’ll ask you another question—Is there any chance that you could get pregnant?”

“No,” you said, rubbing your face to hide the blush, feeling a little sick. Surely you would remember if something happened between the two of you. You didn’t even remember how you got into his bed. What you remembered was the warmth, and the saccharine sweet desire, and… Nothing. “He wouldn’t… do that. I wouldn’t.” 

“I’m not here to judge you,” Crina said. “And I don’t want to embarass you. Do you remember when I warned you about consequences? This is one. Sex is fine, but if you get pregnant, you either get rid of it, or he gets rid of you. It’s better to avoid pregnancy in the first place—safer too. I can help you with that.” 

She let that hang in the small room, waiting for your response. You had none, unable to so much as look at her. The thought of having sex was enough to make you wish the world itself would open up and swallow you whole. More than that, it was absurd to think that any man, let alone Captain Buggy, would bother with a one-eyed midget. It was disgusting to even entertain the notion. You were disgusting. 

Eventually, Crina sighed. “When you need contraception, tell me. You have to look after yourself, god knows that no man will. But that’s all I’ll say on the subject. Do you want more water?” 

You opened your eye. She held out the jug like it was a peace offering, which you accepted after a moment. There was no added powder this time. You wouldn’t have cared anyway, you emptied nearly half the cup before your sloshing stomach uneasily warned you to stop. 

“Those bruises on your wrists are impressive,” Crina said. “May I take a look at them?”

You winced, fixing your sleeve to cover the discoloring and wrapping your hands around the cup to keep them from shaking. “They’re fine.” 

“They look painful,” Crina said, leaning against the sideboard with her arms crossed, fixing you with a stare you didn’t like. It hadn’t been a question, but her silence made you want to answer. 

“I’m fine,” you insisted. She still said nothing, just looking at you. It made you squirm uncomfortably, the table creaking. “I was sick a lot when I was little,” you explained. “I’m better now, but I still bruise easily and… It’s fine, my dad says it’s normal.” He said it was expected for a child, especially a girl, to be a little more breakable. You were weak. Frail. That was why you got hurt so often, got hurt by things that shouldn’t have hurt you. 

“He says that it’s normal for you to have bruises? Did he tell you that broken bones and fat lips are normal too?”

“No… No, that was all my fault,” you said. “Because I’m not careful, I don’t ever think about how weak I am—because I was sick.” 

“What kind of sickness was it?” Crina asked.

You shook your head quickly. “I-I don’t know.” 

“What were your symptoms?”

“I was… sick.” 

“Dizziness, headaches, fatigue, chills, anything like that?” 

“I don't… Maybe. Some of those are because of the accident too.” You touched your bandana, tugging it down to ensure it was covering as much of the scar as possible.

“So you still have symptoms?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” you told her, flustered by the relentless questions. “I’m fine.”

“Why did that man, Randall, claim you were mentally unwell?” 

“I’m not,” you said, shaking your head, searching for the right answer, the one that she wanted. “He only thinks that because my dad… My dad worries about me. After everything that happened, he worries a lot.”

“Is that why you ran away?” 

You shook your head, staring down at your lap. Crying now was embarrassing, you focused your entire self on fighting the sting of tears in your eye. Trying to cover it up, you adjusted the bandana again, desperately forcing your thoughts onto something, anything else. 

“If it were up to me, I would not have medically cleared you to be here,” Crina said. “Asking you to perform any physical labor is out of the question, and you’re frail. It is more than likely that you’ll suffer severe injury by the end of the year.”

“I’m not weak anymore,” you said through clenched teeth, soft enough that she couldn’t hear that you were crying. “I’m okay, really. I’ll get stronger.”

“You can’t fix stunted development,” Crina told you. “But it’s not up to me. I’ll do what I can to help you as long as the captain insists upon keeping you around.”   

Your shoulders heaved with a dry, pathetic sob. 

“Finish that water and we’ll go to the galley to see about getting something to eat,” Crina told you. “Cry now, if you need to. After that, you’re going to have to be someone else’s problem for a while.” 

Crina’s medicine and some food had helped you feel better. The headache remained, a stinging, painful reminder of the past night, but you ignored that as you emerged onto the main deck. Sunlight blinded you and the wind whipped your hair into an unruly mess, the oppressively humid salty ocean air staggeringly familiar. Not all memories were bad. Really, some were good. Since your dad was a surgeon, he was allowed to bring you along to help. Fetching things, bringing meals, cleaning up, running messages, helping tend to the wounded. Back then, you were his sweet little girl.

You shook your head clear of those thoughts, squinting through the sunlight to look around. You were looking for Cabaji, Captain Buggy’s Chief of Staff. A man with green striped dark hair and a blue checkered scarf and, according to her, a sour expression. From the description, you would have thought he’d stand out, but it seemed like Buggy’s entire crew could be described with equally colorful traits. Most of them were busy with some task or another. Those who noticed you watched with expressions ranging from unimpressed to hostile. To your great relief, you didn’t see the blunt-featured Ivo anywhere.   

Assuming you would find the man by the quarter deck, you headed in that direction, trying very hard to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Strangely, your unassuming sweater and leggings made you the odd one out instead of helping you blend in. Eyes made your skin crawl as you passed. Did they all think you had slept with the captain? Crina’s words bothered you. They bothered you a lot. But if the two of you had done something, there would be evidence. More than just a missing dress. 

Hesitating at the steps, knowing it wouldn’t be appropriate to approach the quarter deck without invitation, you stalled out. People were still looking at you, likely wondering what you were doing. You didn’t know either. There, caught in a cycle of anxious uncertainty, someone passed right by you. At first, it didn’t register, but then you blinked and turned. Dark hair, checkered scarf. 

You rushed to follow him, relieved. 

“Excuse me,” you called. Nothing, although the deck was terribly noisy. You had to rush to keep up. “Excuse me, sir?” 

Nothing. He was walking so fast too, with a grace and balance you couldn’t hope to match. 

“Excuse me!” you called, reaching out to touch his arm. Your hand missed the first time, catching air. The second attempt connected, and that finally got a reaction, albeit a slightly violent one. You pulled back, narrowly avoiding his elbow. He turned around, searching at eye level before looking down at you. “You’re Cabaji?” you asked. 

“I am,” he said. 

“Um… I’m-” 

“I know who you are,” he said, cutting you off. “We met last night when you were boarding the ship.”

“Really?” you asked, taken aback. The entire previous day was blurry. Except where it wasn’t, but you couldn’t think about that. “I’m sorry I don’t… remember.” 

His eyes narrowed. “What do you need?” 

“I was hoping to talk to you. If you’re not busy, sir.” 

“I am,” he said, clearly irritated.

“Oh. Right. Is there anything I can help you with, sir?” you asked. “I’m not busy.” 

Cabaji looked at you critically. “Do you know where the kitchen is?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Go down and pick up Captain Buggy’s lunch then wait for me on the bridge. I have to take care of something first. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded, eager to have something to do. “I’ll be quick.”

“Just don’t mess it up.” 

With that, he turned and stalked away. 

Having a task reinvigorated you. You probably drew just as many eyes, but now it didn’t matter as much. How many times had you been tasked to serve meals when you sailed with your dad? Countless. It was something you could do, a way you could contribute. 

Descending back down into the dark belly of the beast, you had to be careful. Last time you were on a ship, you had both eyes. Although you had gotten used to it in so many ways, you had even been able to scale the southside buildings, the sea required a different type of balance. 

“Back for more?” The cook asked when he saw you, his round cheeks ruddy from working in such a small, hot space. “I haven’t got any scraps, you’ll have to beg somewhere else.” 

“Cabaji asked me to pick up Captain Buggy’s lunch,” you told him, unsure if you should be offended by the comment. 

He looked you up and down, his mouth twisting. It was the same look Cabaji had given you, even similar to the way Buggy had sized you up. Nobody lingered on your bandana like the people in town, far more concerned with your size. “If you drop it,” he told you, grabbing a silver tray to put into your hands, “I’ll be frying up your skinny rump instead.” 

“I won’t, I promise,” you said. 

“When the captain’s done, you bring that back to me. Got it?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Better hurry then.”

With a final awkward nod, you made your way back up, extra careful with the tray. It was already getting easier to find your balance. You didn’t care if anybody was watching you as you crossed the main deck, all of your attention on not dropping the tray. If you messed up your first task as a part of Buggy’s crew, you’d be better off tossing yourself into the water. 

Unfortunately, Cabaji wasn’t on the quarter deck. The door into what you assumed would be the navigation and office was closed, but that was probably where Buggy would be dining. 

Standing there quickly became awkward, the sun piercingly bright and the tray getting heavier and heavier. You looked around for Cabaji a final time before going into the map room. It was empty, but on the other side of the sliding doors, you heard voices. Cautiously, you circled the large center table, intending to knock. The map, however, drew your attention. You knew it. You had seen it before. Your town was a burgeoning center of trade traffic, and so new routes needed to be mapped for merchant vessels to facilitate that growth. As a retired Marine, dad was always willing to help out with that sort of thing. He was well connected. Respected.  

One of the pirates had stolen the map right out of your own home. 

Before you could figure out how to feel about that, the door into the captain’s office slid open. You jumped, nearly dropping the tray as you turned around. A man with a white fur vest stopped at the threshold, his eyes immediately narrowing.

“Who are you?” he asked, his tone unnervingly accusatory.

“I… Um…” 

“Well, well, would you look at that,” Buggy called. You looked around the man to see Captain Buggy at the other side of the office, sitting behind a big desk with his feet up on its top. “She’s standing and everything, I’m impressed. After how wasted you got last night, I thought you’d be out for the whole day.”

“I brought your lunch, sir,” you said faintly, not knowing what else to say. 

“It’s about time,” Buggy said. “I’m starving. Bring that over here.” You entered his office, nervously skirting around the man who was still glaring at you. 

Just as you set the tray on Buggy’s desk, avoiding meeting his eye, the other door opened. You looked over your shoulder to see a very displeased Cabaji come in. 

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” Cabaji said as he crossed the map room. “I told her to wait for me out there.”

“Don’t worry about it, I was meaning to get you two in here anyway. Mohji, Cabaji, this is my new cabin boy—er, girl. Woman?” Buggy looked at you inquisitively. “How old are you?” He shrugged it off just as quickly, taking the top off of the tray. “Whatever. I had one, but that didn’t work out. An artist of my caliber doesn’t need a spineless yes-man to run my errands, I need a protégé that I can mold into something really special. I knew you were just the girl from the minute I saw you… Wait, no… No, I knew it from the moment you said that you would happily serve me for the rest of your life.” He grinned, cutting off a chunk of meat. “Yeah, that was it.”

You shuffled awkwardly, trying very hard to avoid looking at any of the men. It was true, but when he said it like that, it took on a far different tone. They had to be drawing the worst conclusions. 

“So, you two,” Buggy continued, talking at Cabaji and Mohji through a mouthful of food, “make it clear to everyone that she’s a part of the crew. I don’t want to hear shit about special treatment or whatever. Except for, you know, if anybody messes with her I’ll feed ‘em to the lion. Maybe that’ll perk him up, eh Mohji?” 

“Yes, sir,” Mohji said.

“Great,” Buggy said. “Cabaji, you can take the afternoon to show her the ropes. Make sure she’s up to snuff.”

“What about crew inspection?” Cabaji asked. 

“I’ll be here to help Captain Buggy with that. Your presence isn’t necessary,” Mohji said, looking at Cabaji with what you thought was a hint of animosity.

“I don’t need either of you to judge talent, that’s my business,” Buggy said irritably.

Neither man responded to that, but Buggy’s annoyance dissipated quickly.

“One last thing. Be careful with her,” Buggy said with a wink, his mood shifting yet again. “Don’t get fooled by the whole one-eyed innocent thing, she’s a real freak.”

“Understood,” Cabaji said, deadpan. 

“Great. Now get out of here. She starts tonight.” 

“Yes, sir,” Cabaji said, grabbing your elbow and pushing you in front of him so he could basically herd you out of the room, past the uncomfortably familiar map, and back into the sunlight. 

He shut the door and pulled you to the side, shooting it a wary glance before looking back at you. “Next time,” he said, “do what I tell you. I don’t care about whatever relationship you think you have with Captain Buggy, you will follow the orders that are given to you.” The implied or else was obvious from his intense stare. Part of you wondered what the or else would be, although the other part didn’t want to know. 

“I understand,” you said, bowing your head. “I’m sorry, sir. And I don’t… Captain Buggy and I don’t have any kind of relationship. Last night, we didn’t do… Didn’t do anything. I swear.” 

“That’s not my business,” Cabaji said. 

“I really mean it,” you muttered, although you could tell he didn’t believe you, and you thought about what Crina said, and waking up in your underwear, and you felt sick in a way that had nothing to do with a hangover. 

“We should get started,” Cabaji said, ignoring your weak objection. You swallowed hard and nodded. You had a job now, you needed to focus on that.

The first thing you learned about being a pirate was that you had next to no idea what you were doing. There were hundreds of things you needed to learn simply about living on the ship before you could begin learning your job, whatever that entailed. The biggest problem was how quickly you wore out. Cabaji was accustomed to being on a ship and athletic, you were neither. Having such a bad headache didn’t help. As the afternoon passed, Crina’s medicine wore off. If it were only the one hammering your temple, you could handle it, but the lump on the back of your head pulsed with every heartbeat, sending fresh sparks of pain down your spine every time you moved your head. 

Like a wind-up doll slowly running down, you fell behind. It was only a matter of time before you collapsed, his voice fading out and the world blackening on the edges. You didn’t do something as dramatic as fall, but you distantly felt your legs fold beneath you, too rubbery to support you anymore. 

“What are you doing?” Cabaji asked, stopping. 

“‘m fine,” you said automatically, your voice faint. “Sorry. I’m fine. I just need a second.”  

“Are you sick?” 

“No, jus’ dizzy,” you said, trying to get your bearings.

Cabaji knelt in front of you, tilting your head up with a hand beneath your chin. Your eye spun, his face blurring.   

“Let’s take a break,” he said, dropping your chin and standing up. 

You might have protested, but the truth was that you very badly needed a break. It was embarrassing, but it would be worse to pass out. So you accepted Cabaji’s help getting your feet, the world blackening on the edges. Fortunately, the officer’s mess wasn’t a long walk, and you gratefully dropped into one of the chairs. Cabaji sat opposite you, his dark gaze unwavering. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, but his stoic intensity made you squirm. 

“I’m really sorry, sir,” you said. “This won’t happen again, I promise.”

“It’s alright,” Cabaji told you. “There are things we should discuss. About your role on this ship, and about your duty to the captain.” 

That made you bristle, but you forced yourself to relax. He was your senior officer, this conversation was necessary. “Okay.” 

“Captain Buggy is a very unique man. He demands a lot of his crew, especially those who serve him directly. As his Chief of Staff, it is my responsibility to ensure you’re able to meet those demands. Your failure would reflect very poorly on me.”

“I won’t fail,” you told him sincerely, if a little defensively. “I promise. I-I know what a cabin boy does. I’ve sailed before, sir.”

Cabaji leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes narrowing at you like you were stupid. “Were you listening to what he said? Captain Buggy didn’t hire you to be his gopher or attendant. He gave you an official job to acknowledge you as a member of the crew so the others don’t mess with you, that’s it.” 

“Oh, um,” you said slowly, frowning, “maybe I misunderstood. I’m sorry, sir.” 

“We all know why you’re actually here,” Cabaji told you. “I’ll teach you how to perform basic duties, but your only concern is serving Captain Buggy. You will provide him with whatever he wants—will do anything he asks of you. You do not tell him no, or question his judgment.”

There was an implication bubbling beneath his directions that made you skin crawl, thinking again of what Crina said before, but you forced yourself to ignore it. Cabaji said earlier that it wasn’t his business, and it wasn’t. 

“I understand, sir,” you told him instead. “I really do.”

Cabaji’s demeanor softened slightly, his head tilting to the side. “No, you don’t. I’ve known people like you. Children who grew up on the streets, or malnourished ship slaves. Small. Frail. Weak.” He spoke bluntly, though without malice. “Add in your lack of skill and experience, and you’ve got no idea what you’re in for.” He sighed, leaning back. “I’ll do what I can to help you. As I said, your failure would inevitably become mine as well.”

“I won’t fail,” you muttered softly, staring at your knees, your headache hammering at the back of your skull, down your spine. 

He shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

When you thought about being on a ship, it was with the experience you had on Marine vessels. Strict order, stricter schedules, and militant discipline. What you didn’t think about was exiting the hatch from the lower deck to see a circle of pirates loosely gathered around a nearly empty spot in the middle of the deck. Nearly empty, except for a lone man beneath a makeshift spotlight. Music crackled out of a speaker, providing him a beat to follow for his routine. It looked like a dance, although not one you had ever seen.

“What’s going on?” you asked Cabaji as he came up behind you.

“Crew inspection,” he told you. “These are the new recruits.” 

You watched the man for a moment before your eyes strayed past the spotlight. Captain Buggy wasn’t hard to find. He leaned against the railing with crossed arms, his dark silhouette cutting through the sunset. Although his scowl was only barely visible, tense displeasure underscored every aspect of his posture. 

Following the flourishing swell in the music, the pirate ran from one corner of the emptied area, using his momentum to do a flip. To you, it was one of the most impressive things you had ever seen, but he landed wrong. A sharp intake of breath rippled over the gathered crew as he stumbled, unable to save it and falling down onto one knee. 

“Stop,” Buggy said, pushing away from the railing, waving his hand to stop the music. “Just stop. I’ve seen more than enough.” 

The pirate got to his feet, his head bowed in deference as Buggy approached him. 

“Was that a joke?” Buggy asked. The man didn’t respond. Without the music, a very loud hush had settled over the entire deck, even the flapping sails and creaking wood quieting down in the face of Buggy’s temper. “You’re all in on it, right? Because if you performed like this in front of an audience, the only thing they would do is laugh.”

The pirate muttered something you couldn’t hear. Buggy leaned in with wide eyes to listen.

“You’re hungry?” he repeated. The man spoke again and Buggy nodded sympathetically, his anger suddenly gone. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea that you were hungry.” He grabbed the man by the shoulder, smiling. “You shoulda said something sooner.” 

Without any warning, he struck the man in the stomach, using the grip on his shoulder to push him to the side. 

“How about some food for thought,” Buggy said, raising his voice as he strolled into the center of the impromptu stage. “I hired you, all of you, because I need talent worthy of my show. That’s what you signed up for. So where is that talent? All I’ve seen today is shit so bad it’s stinking up the deck. I oughta let every single one of you good for nothing nobodies starve until you can give me something—anything—that I can work with.” 

Everybody in the circle shuffled uncomfortably, most of them bowing their heads rather than meet Buggy’s eyes as he looked at each one in turn. 

“We’re done here, go get some grub,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “We’ll try this again after you’ve had time to reflect on your failure.” With that, Buggy stalked out of the circle towards the quarter deck.   

“Go get the captain’s supper,” Cabaji told you. “Bring it to his office.” 

“Oh, um. Yes, sir,” you said, nodding.

Cabaji left to follow the captain, and you joined the flow of people going down. It was a solemn group, full of stormy expressions and whispered dissent. You felt a bit of that yourself. Captain Buggy seemed amused by your lack of talent last night, but would that hold? You didn’t have any unique skills, and especially not anything even approaching as impressive as the acrobat from earlier. The only answer that came to mind was Crina and Cabaji’s sickening assumptions. But if that was true, Buggy would have said something. 

It had to be more simple than any of that. He wanted somebody who would be loyal, obedient, and could perform the boring quality of life tasks that captains were too busy for. You just had to prove that you really were the best person for that role. 

Food was already being served to crew members who were not among the new recruits, taken from the kitchen to the mess by other younger pirates. Nobody paid you any mind while you nervously hovered, unsure if you were meant to wait in line or not. You didn’t want to keep Buggy waiting, but you didn’t want to cut in front of anybody and draw attention to yourself. Your indecision was ended by the ruddy-faced cook recognizing you from earlier, giving you the captain’s tray without any further comment. Your skin crawled with the weight of the eyes that tracked you, watching you quickly take the tray and hurry out of the kitchen. 

Working against the flow of people was more difficult than following it, and you had to stop twice to catch your breath, the dizziness from earlier returning. 

The main deck had returned to something like normalcy when you returned. The spotlight had been exchanged for lanterns and crew members had returned to their duties. By now the sun had fallen very low, casting the ship in a smoky haze of near dark. You crossed the deck with your head down, watching your feet to make sure you didn’t trip on anything. 

There were no lights in the map room, just an illuminated line between the doors into Buggy’s office. As you got closer, you could hear Cabaji’s low, calm voice. You had taken too long, and you were a little winded, and Buggy was already unhappy, and part of you wanted to stay in the dark until you could calm your breathing and think of a good reason for making him wait. Instead, you knocked. 

“Come in,” Buggy called, and you opened the door, blinking as you entered his well-lit office. “Took you long enough.” 

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” you said, hurrying to his desk to set down the tray. 

You half expected him to berate you, but he only rolled his eyes, looking back to Cabaji. “You were saying?” 

“Once we seize another ship, we can remain in that area. Those waters are thick with smaller supply vessels and that-” 

“Boring,” Buggy said, cutting him off with a loud enough voice to make you wince as you pulled the lid off the tray. “All of this. It’s all completely uninspired. I’m not gonna drum up any buzz by doing the same tired act as everybody else. People don’t give a shit about small fry supply vessels and shithole villages in the middle of nowhere. You know what makes people pay attention? Giving them something they’ve never seen before. Artistic vision—does anybody else on the ship understand that?” 

Cabaji didn’t say anything. What was there to say? You knew the flint-like look in Buggy’s eyes, in the tone of his raised voice. Any response could be the steel to start a fire.  You didn’t dare draw any attention to yourself, trying to remain as small as possible in the tense silence. A silence that was broken by the door opening loudly. Mohji walked in without knocking, a leatherbound book under his arm. He seemed to realize that he was interrupting something too late, nervously looking from Cabaji to Buggy. 

“I’m sorry to-”

“Did you get what I asked?” Buggy cut in brusquely, his mood shifting yet again to business. 

“Of course, Captain Buggy,” Mohji said. You took that as your cue to leave, passing Mohji with your head down to catch the door from fully closing. 

When you raised your eye to watch where you were going in the dark map room, a pair of eyes reflected back at you. It took a second for your brain to process that what you were seeing was real, but then you yelped in fear, stumbling back into the office and landing hard on your butt. 

“What was that?” Buggy asked from the other side of the room, amused.

“There’s… something in there,” you said, scrambling to get to your feet. “An animal.” 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Buggy said, nonplussed. “Why’d you let him in there? Everything’s gonna smell like wet dog.” 

“Richie doesn’t stink,” Mohji said. Realizing how his clipped tone might come across, he lowered his head respectfully. “Captain.”

“That was a dog?” you asked. 

“A lion,” Mohji corrected.

“A lion?” you repeated, your voice thin. 

“He won’t hurt you,” Mohji said dismissively. 

You nodded as though you understood. Even Cabaji looked more exasperated than concerned. They made it seem like it was no big deal, like lions weren’t terrifying wild animals that you would never want to meet without a set of bars between you. Even if circuses generally had animal acts, allowing one of them to wander around freely couldn’t have been safe. 

“Don’t look so scared,” Buggy said. “Not even Richie would bother trying to eat you. Not nearly enough meat.” 

That was obviously your prompt to leave. Between the embarrassment of staying out of fear and getting eaten by a lion, you decided that the second was at least more dignified. Still, you could feel the cold sweat on the back of your neck when you slipped out of his office and into the dark room. Hidden in shadow, the only thing you could really make out about the creature was its size. How could it even live on the ship? 

Slowly, you circled the table opposite where Richie laid, keeping your eye on him to ensure he didn’t move. You were nearly to the door when you heard the lion growl. Jumping in fear, you stumbled the last few steps to wrench the door open with shaking hands, practically slamming it shut out of terror that the beast would follow. 

Several seconds of silence from within convinced you that you were safe, scurrying away with only a few backwards glances to ensure you weren’t being followed. 

When you reached the bottom of the steps on the main deck, you stopped to breathe. Maybe from wearing yourself out physically, and definitely from being afraid, your head ached with an agonizing pulse, as if the pain were generating a heartbeat of its own. All at once, an overwhelming sense of alienation froze you inside. You were surrounded by strangers, stuck on an unfamiliar ship, there was a lion on the loose, and your only tether to a life you weren’t physically cut out for was a man you barely knew. And the day wasn’t even over. 

The wave of exhaustion that rolled over you at the thought of all you had left to do was almost enough to knock you over.

Squeezing your eye shut and rubbing your temple, you forced all of those thoughts away. It didn’t matter if nothing made sense, or if you were making a mistake, or that you were afraid, or that you were in pain. Those things never mattered, not when you had things to do. During all those dark months after the accident, that’s what dad said. Submitting yourself to service was the best way to deal with unwanted feelings, to express your grief in a way that could benefit others, and therefore be a salve to your wounded heart. 

All that mattered now was proving your own worth to Captain Buggy through service. You could do that. 

[outtoshatter]

Author spotlight of the week: @aurevell! They have heaps of fics to choose from!

Under 10k:

Returning the Favor | T | 5k tags: established relationship, same age Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski, fluff, Stiles doesn't know about werewolves Summary: Stiles pays a nighttime visit to his boyfriend in secret, or so he thinks. Unfortunately, the Hale family has keener ears than he realizes.

When Derek peers down into the dark, he finds the worst thing imaginable: his boyfriend, scaling the side of the house like some deranged cat burglar. "What are you doing here?" Derek hisses.

Burial Rituals | G | 4k tags: necromancer Stiles, cursed Derek, meet-cute Summary: The necromancer freezes halfway over the fence, stuttering to a halt the second Derek flashes his red eyes. It’s an awkward pose to hold: leg hiked up over the waist-high bars, hands gripping the rail for balance. The fence’s wrought-iron spears dig into his calf a bit as he settles, clearly caught off guard.

“Uh,” he says lamely, his face pale in the scant moonlight. “Shit.”

Derek guards an abandoned cemetery. Stiles is the necromancer trying to break in.

Sugar in my Coffee | G | 3k tags: no werewolves, established relationship, domestic fluff Summary: Derek’s not a morning person. Stiles would live on sugar if he could.

Lessons in Catiquette | T | 3k tags: creature Stiles, slice of life, pack bonding Summary: The pack’s resident werecat is kind of a mystery to Derek. Luckily, Stiles offers one-on-one tutoring.

It May Simply Lie in Wait | G | 5k tags: getting together, declarations of love, magical Stiles Summary: “This place is haunted as hell,” one boy says under his breath.

The house remembers itself, letting out a subtle upstairs creak to let them know what they’re in for. They enter anyway, inspecting its shamefully crumbled furnishings, running fingers over its tattered walls, crouching to peer at the ceiling tiles fallen on its floor, and the house—

The house does not chase them away.

Years after the fire, Derek and Stiles return to the Hale House. It isn’t sure how it feels about this.

Stories Over 10k:

The Only Thing Left | T | 13k tags: angst, no werewolves, creature Derek Summary: “You don’t need air,” Stiles echoes. “You swim. That doesn’t tell me much. What are you?”

Derek stares. He slowly lifts his shoulders and drops them back into the water.

Or, Stiles meets a stranger at the spring outside of town.

Where we Both Could Live | M | 16k tags: shy Derek, meet cute, friends to lovers Summary: Derek’s having a hard time falling asleep in his noisy new apartment.

His next-door neighbor, who always seems to be talking or singing, is surprisingly helpful with that problem.

The Third Sacrifice | T | 21k tags: magical Stiles, dark fairy tale elements, human sacrifice Summary: Stiles can see the writing on the wall. Everyone knows the Stilinskis are cursed, or magic, or both. He knows he’ll be picked as the third sacrifice—the one that dies for the sake of the harvest. But he doesn’t intend to let some ancient god rip his heart out, not if magic can help it.

If only Derek, his estranged best friend, would stop hounding him about his plans to escape.

A Badge for Everything | T | 11k tags: good alpha Derek, BAMF Stiles, boy scout Stiles, getting together Summary: Stiles Stilinski is the only loser left in a pack full of wolves who’d do anything to leave their loser days behind.

(Everything’s the same, but Stiles is a boy scout. That’s it. That’s the story.)

The Beginner's Guide to Everyday Magic | T | 29k | 8 chapters tags: magical Stiles, Stiles is pushed out of the pack, fluff, angst, Studio Ghibli vibes Summary: When the latest threat sweeps into Beacon Hills, Derek decides that the very-much-human Stiles needs to be severed from the pack for his own safety. But when the ritual goes unexpectedly wrong, Stiles finds himself alone—and unable to reach out for help when he needs it most.

Cue a retreat to his mom’s old house, where he finds that magic is more real than he ever could have imagined.

Go check out aurevell's AO3 page, and don't forget to mind the tags, leave a kudos and maybe even a comment!

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Elastic Heart Ch 8 (Linked Universe story)

Summary: When Sky goes missing, the Chain scrambles to figure out where he is and what happened before it's too late.

(mood music that helped inspire the writing)

(AO3 link)

<<Previous

Chapter 8 - The Curse

It was uncharacteristically cold, bringing a sprinkling of the upcoming winter season as frost slowly encased the wildlife in the gardens of Hyrule Castle. Twilight sat on a bench, his legs slowly freezing at the contact on stone, his heart numb as he stared at nothing. Gentle footfalls caught his attention, though he recognized their steady gait, the sound of a dress trailing behind them, the silence of the person in question.

Of all the stories he’d heard of everyone’s Zeldas, he’d concluded that his was the quietest.

He didn’t move as she carefully, gracefully sat beside him on the bench. Her hands were clasped on her lap. He could see a dark cloak in his periphery, trailing down her dress and covering her. It looked like the cloak she’d worn when she was imprisoned in the Twilight Realm.

“How is he?” his queen asked softly.

“Awake,” Twilight replied. “Or, well, he was. Briefly.”

Sky’s and Time’s words echoed in his mind in a nearly maddening fashion. The young knight’s outburst of emotion at the fact that the Shadow was still alive… Time’s observation that Sky was trying to handle this entire ordeal alone…

He just… didn’t understand. What had led to this? They could all—well, he himself knew he was guilty of taking on too much, but—

Twilight would never—he’d never just—

He’d gone after the Shadow, it was true. But he—well…

Twilight was a hunter. He knew that about himself. There was a reason the shadow magic had chosen a wolf as his beastly form. But he also recognized the benefits of working as a team, and it just—it didn’t make sense why Sky would suddenly think he could handle this alone. Had he been thinking about this for months, and he’d just waited for the right opportunity?

Had this idea ingrained itself into his mind because of Twilight’s injury? Was Sky worried about the others getting hurt? The boy was one of the softest souls in the group, the logic at least made sense in that regard, but…

Twilight supposed he should have figured that Sky was just as reckless as the rest. Though, aside from Wild (and possibly Hyrule), even the rest realized that working together was the smarter and saner option.

“And how are you?” Zelda continued, watching him carefully.

Twilight sighed tiredly. “I’ll… be fine. I just want him to get better.”

The queen remained silent, turning her chin ever so slightly so she was looking ahead, just as he was. Twilight suddenly felt guilty, remembering who he was talking to, remembering everything she had done for them the last few days. He finally looked at her. “Thank you. Thanks for… helping us.”

Zelda glanced back at him, her cheeks growing rosy in the chilly air. She smiled gently, tipping her head in acknowledgement. The pair was silent for a while longer before Twilight barked out a laugh.

“Midna would be yelling at us by now,” he chuckled, his chest tightening, eyes stinging. Ah, maybe that was the wrong person to think about on top of all the emotions he was already feeling.

“I imagine so,” Zelda agreed with a huff of her own. “She didn’t seem to like silence as much.”

Twilight hummed, trying to wipe the memories away, only to be replaced by Sky dying, by Sky crying, by—

He sighed. As if Arbiter’s Grounds didn’t have enough awful memories for him.

“I’m glad he’s doing better,” Zelda finally said. “I’m glad I could repay him. And you, Link.”

“Repay…?” Twilight snapped his gaze at her, mildly confused. Was this about the beasts he’d defeated?

“He assisted us against Ganondorf,” Zelda said with a smile, tipping her head to the side as if to remind him of already knowing this fact.

“Wha—no he didn’t,” Twilight argued and then bit his lips, remembering he was talking to a queen.

Zelda’s eyes were knowing, but sad all of a sudden. “We should go inside.”

The look was hauntingly familiar, and it made Twilight’s breath freeze in his lungs. The words of the Shadow came to mind, of meeting the original Link, and the Ordonian suddenly found himself realizing that he really needed to figure out where on the timeline Sky was.

The Skyloftian was tied with Wind for knowing so little of Hyrule, making the pair uniquely different than the rest. Neither were natives to Hyrule, and though the traveler hinted at a potentially similar foreign origin, he still knew Hyrule and was a part of it. But since Wind had fallen easily into the timeline (or, well… timelines), Twilight had simply assumed Sky was some outlier as well, falling between eras that they knew, living in a place so remote (and in the clouds) that he barely understood what the kingdom was doing.

Knowing of the sky islands in his own time, of how ancient they were, relegated to legend… Twilight had wondered. It wasn’t… it wasn’t as if there weren’t hints that Sky might be fairly early on the timeline.

So why did Zelda’s hints at his aid leave Twilight so… uneasy?

Twilight found that he didn’t have the courage to ask her as they both went indoors. He scratched at the Triforce symbol on the back of his hand, stomach churning, and bade her a good night.

XXX

It was late into the evening when Time entered the designated sickroom silently to find Warriors sitting beside Sky’s bed, the young knight’s hand held gently in the captain’s own. Warriors didn’t move, despite no doubt hearing his approach. Time paused just behind him, eye looking Sky over. He’d taken to doing this, whether he’d been in the room for hours or minutes, he’d always come back to make sure the Skyloftian was still here, still breathing.

After the initial shock, he found that he couldn’t stay away for too long a period of time. He’d given it a few hours after sending Sky to bed before checking in on him, only to find Wind and Warriors talking to each other softly. After that the sailor had been dismissed, finding Hyrule and latching on to him. He hadn’t spoken much the rest of the day, despite some prompting.

Time found himself trying to bounce between so many troubled boys that he was thoroughly overwhelmed. So instead, he just checked in on Sky.

Warriors’ thumb traced over Sky’s hand. “You know, I did the same thing… during the war.”

Time didn’t speak, sensing that there was more at the tip of the captain’s tongue. Warriors often didn’t speak to express his feelings – his words were a shield and sword, never an admission of hurt or worry. Time wouldn’t interrupt if he needed to get something off his chest. Goddesses knew he deserved it.

“I took the responsibility of the war on my own shoulders,” Warriors continued, eyes never leaving Sky’s face. “Blamed myself for the war, even though it clearly wasn’t all just because of a woman’s twisted obsession. But I blamed myself anyway. Went to face her alone. Nearly died at the hands of my own Shadow.”

Time’s gaze drifted to the captain, eye widening a little. He didn’t even know what to say at this point, but the way Warriors’ grip tightened around Sky indicated that he needed some kind of response.

Before the eldest Link could articulate anything, the captain went on, “Impa was furious. I’d never seen her that mad. The princess wasn’t all that happy with me either. I…” he cleared his throat, “I was just a kid who wanted it to end. A kid who thought I could accomplish anything. A kid who’d been winning battle after battle and thought I could win one more.”

“Captain,” Time tried to say, but found he had nothing to follow up with.

“He’s not like me, Link,” Warriors said, his voice beginning to wobble. “Sky isn’t—he doesn’t walk on to a battlefield like he owns it. He doesn’t wield the Master Sword like it can do anything. He’s a better swordfighter than me, but he’s a silly, sleepy child, lazy and laid back and—”

The captain stopped abruptly, swallowing, his entire body tensing. Time settled his hand on his shoulder, heart heavy.

“What did we do?” Warriors asked all of a sudden, turning vulnerable and pleading eyes towards his leader. “What did we do that made him think he had to do this?”

“I don’t know,” Time answered honestly, voice oh so quiet. He still was trying to figure out if what the Shadow had said held any bearing, if Sky somehow had convinced himself that this was his fault, but it didn’t add up. There was no way the Shadow could have run into just Sky without anyone knowing until this entire fiasco. And even if that were the case, if the Shadow were speaking truth, if somehow it was from Sky’s era… what would compel Sky to think he needed to handle this alone? Why didn’t he just tell them that he knew the enemy?

There were too many unknown factors. Time needed answers. None of this was adding up.

“You know, the sailor said that Sky didn’t even get it,” Warriors continued, shaking his head as his eyes started to glisten with tears. “That he didn’t understand why we’d save him.”

Time felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

“How could we have failed so badly at communicating that he was part of the team?” Warriors questioned, releasing Sky’s hand and leaning forward to bury his face in his own. “Damn it all, we almost lost him to that.”

Time was still trying to catch his breath from the realization that was eating Warriors alive. Of all the difficulties and journeys he’d been through, and the people he’d seen, the only person who had ever felt so out of place that they would rather die than carry on the farce was—

Himself.

Time sat slowly on Sky’s bed, processing everything, but his hand remained steady on Warriors’ back. He finally found the right words to say. “Captain… this isn’t… you can’t blame yourself for this. We haven’t done anything that would make Sky feel unwanted or unloved. Something else is going on.”

Because something else had to be going on. Malon and her father had welcomed Time with open arms, but that hadn’t fixed the wounds in his heart and soul that had nearly led to permanent disaster. No one person had been responsible for it.

This had to do with Sky’s own adventure. He knew it.

Time hastily shoved the emotions aside in lieu of this new information. He was terrible at addressing emotions, particularly his own, but he could puzzle things out. And this gave him something to focus on instead of drowning.

Warriors took slow, measured breaths, face still hidden in his hands, but Time could feel his posture changing, his muscles relaxing and then stiffening in waves. He was slowly trying to recollect himself. Time didn’t try to speed the process, and instead swept his hand gently up and down the captain’s back. To his relief, Warriors relaxed under his touch.

“How can you be sure?” Warriors asked tiredly.

“Because I, too, have been through something similar,” Time acknowledged. “Not in the same fashion as you or Sky, but… I understand. This isn’t about us, Link.”

Warriors huffed, hands tracing down his face, pulling at the skin before they fell to his lap. “So we’re just collateral damage.”

“No,” Time reasoned out. “He’s trying to protect us.”

Like I did. A Hero forgotten to time that shouldn’t have existed, protecting those who would never understand.

Sky had spoken of the Ocarina of Time as a “timeshift instrument.” That implied the boy had probably done some time traveling of his own.

The eldest Link had to admit, he had never given much consideration to Sky’s own history and story, having little interest in hearing about the Master Sword, but now he realized he really should have paid more attention. He shook his head and bit his tongue, saving the internal beratement for later. Warriors needed him now, and considering everything the captain had done for him a month ago when Twilight had been dying, he owed it to the younger man.

And he needed to do better as their leader, anyway.

“Idiot,” Warriors finally grumbled, pulling a chuckle out of his elder.

“Yes,” Time agreed. “Now let’s focus on helping him remember he’s surrounded by fellow heroes. Such as a brave captain whose worth far surpasses his appearance or abilities in battle, whose heroics stem from his heart.”

Warriors’ face, tired and fragile as it was, contorted for a moment, lip wobbling, and he cleared his throat loudly, squeezing his eyes shut and looking away.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, old man,” the captain tried to say casually, though his voice shook and his laugh was wet. He sniffled, hands grasping his tunic with such intensity his knuckles turned white. Time’s own hand was steady, continuing to soothe along his back. Warriors finally seemed to grow uncomfortable with this degree of vulnerability and rose, still facing away, Time’s gentle touch now out of reach.

“Captain,” Time started, trying to say that it was okay to be hurting, but Warriors cut him off.

“You’re right,” the captain said, his voice growing stronger. When he finally did turn, his face was flushed, eyes glassy, but there were no tears on his cheeks, no wobbling of his lips. His face was turning to stone as he tried to steel himself. “We need to get to the bottom of this. This—this can’t—”

Warriors swallowed, brow furrowing in frustration and determination, but the words were trapped in his throat.

“This can’t happen again,” Time agreed quietly.

The door opened behind them, and both men turned to see Twilight standing in the entranceway. Warriors sighed heavily, heading towards the exit.

“I’ll check on the others,” he muttered, not bothering to look behind him.

Time watched the captain go and the rancher approach. Twilight’s eyes were fixed on Sky.

“How’s he doing?” his descendant asked softly.

“No change since before,” Time answered, his heart aching at how much all of this was hurting everyone. A restless energy pulled at him, growing impatient for Sky to awaken so they could get this figured out. He didn’t dare wake the boy, though, terrified that he wouldn’t heal properly. But another fear pulled at him, demanding that he wake him just to make sure he could wake up.

It had been almost three days, but the image of Sky dying in his arms hadn’t left his mind.

Twilight knelt at Sky’s bedside, running his hand through the teenager’s hair. Neither hero spoke for a good while before the younger one said, “Do you ever wonder… where in the timeline Sky is?”

“Far more now than I did,” Time admitted. “How are the others?”

“Little sailor’s still is upset,” Twilight answered. “He won’t say why, though. But you can see it. Champion and the Veteran are trying to cheer him up. Traveler’s taking a nap; the little guy’s with him.”

Any other discourse on the subject was interrupted with a whimper. Sky’s brow furrowed, face pinched in pain or concern or distress as he squirmed in the bed. Twilight and Time both leaned forward in concern, Twilight’s hand resting on Sky’s chest as Time’s reached to him as well.

Sky awoke with a start, eyes blown wide, breaths coming in quick, short rasps. He tried to shoot into an upright position, but Twilight caught him just as he made it halfway and nearly collapsed.

“It’s okay,” Twilight immediately soothed gently, pulling Sky to his chest.

“You’re safe,” Time added, hand resting on Sky’s shoulder and catching the boy’s attention.

Sky swiftly gained control of his breathing, eyes flickering between Time and Twilight with some degree of anxiety. His gaze lingered on Twilight, looking up at him from where he was snuggled in his hold, and he seemed to wilt, looking down at his lap.

"Nightmare?" Twilight asked. The teenager didn't respond, but they both knew it had to have been.

“We need to talk,” Time said firmly, cutting to the chase, though the gravity of his voice was lessened by the way his thumb traced gently on the teenager in an attempt to calm him.

“Let’s get some food, okay?” Twilight suggested, softening the words further as Sky nearly shriveled into him. “Come on.”

Twilight went to pick Sky up, but the young knight wiggled out of his grip, scooting to the edge of the bed. Time stood, and he and the Ordonian flanked the young knight to help him stand. He walked shakily, and by the time he reached the door he was panting for air.

“I can carry you, Sky, it’s okay,” Twilight insisted, scooping the boy up as the knight let out a small groan in protest.

“Best let him,” Time added with a gentle smile. “Our rancher is not going to let you out of his sight for a long time, so you might as well get used to it.”

Sky eyed him uncertainly, slumping in Twilight’s hold as the pair exited the room. Time would let his descendant fuss over the boy for a little bit, would let Sky get a potion and some food in his belly, before he continued his earlier attempt. He wasn’t sitting on this problem for too long – the boy had died because of it.

He’d died. Legend was right, and though Time refused to linger on the grief as much as the veteran had, it…

Time sighed, following Twilight into the larger room where everyone else was gathered. The group grew silent as they saw Sky, and then they huddled around the ranch hand.

“How are you feeling?” Legend asked first.

Sky didn’t speak. Twilight gently placed him on a sofa, and Wild and Legend immediately flanked him.

“Here,” Wild said, shoving a bowl of stew into the knight’s face. “Eat. You need it.”

“And then drink this,” Legend ordered, holding a potion.

Sky did as he was told without complaint. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to see what they should do next. The tension was ever growing, worry and frustration bubbling just below the surface. Warriors hovered close by, anxious energy driving him to rock between foot to foot.

The champion watched him carefully as he ate the stew. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

Sky paused after a sip, body going rigid.

“Whatever the Shadow was talking about,” Wild tried to continue. “This—none of this is your fault, your failure.”

“You don’t know what he was talking about,” Sky suddenly snapped, eyes narrowing, catching Time off guard with his vehemence.

“Well I can’t know if you don’t talk to me!” Wild replied sharply, rising to his feet. “I want to help you, Sky. I don’t remember much of my past, but I do remember feeling so utterly silenced and alone and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Talk to us! Tell us what’s wrong! Why did—why did you leave us?”

“Look, whatever bullshit the Shadow said isn’t true,” Legend said with a wave of his arm. “You know that. How could any of this be your fault? You were just as confused as we were when we all ran into each other!”

“I fought my Shadow before,” Hyrule added. “The one we’re pursuing could be anyone’s, really. Or something far worse; I’ve never seen such magic, after all. But it doesn’t matter. I didn’t invent my Shadow just as you didn’t invent this one, you know.”

“None of this is your fault,” Twilight assured gently from across the couch.

Sky dipped his head down, fingers trembling as he held the bowl.

Four broke the silence. “…He… he was right, wasn’t he?”

The Skyloftian practically wilted, shrinking into himself, shaking like a leaf. Twilight hastily took the bowl out of his hands before it could fall and shatter on the ground.

Time knelt in front of him, eye piercing into him as Sky hesitantly glanced up under his hair. He averted his gaze the instant he locked eyes with their leader.

“Tell us the truth, Link.”

The room held its breath, waiting for an answer.

“He was right,” Sky whispered, propping his feet in front of him on the sofa, hiding his face in his knees. “It’s my fault.”

In his periphery, Time saw Legend about to say something when Warriors put a hand on the veteran’s shoulder to silence him. Twilight was about to hasten forward to soothe the young knight’s tears, but Time put an arm in his way.

The eldest Link studied Sky carefully. Whatever caused him to blame himself for was clearly tearing him apart.

This was the reason he had left the group in the first place.

“What is?” Time prompted quietly.

“E-everything,” Sky continued, fighting desperately to speak through hiccupped sobs. “I—it’s—Ganon is m-my fault, I f-fought his predecessor, t-the one who started it all, who h-hurt all of you!”

The room was still as everyone watched Sky gasp for air in order to explain.

“I—I f-fought Demise,” Sky explained, a hair’s breadth from unraveling. “H-he was—he was Ganon’s predecessor, o-or maybe Ganon before he was called that—he—he said—he c-cursed me, all of us, and s-said—he’d follow Zelda’s d-descendants a-and—and the Spirit of the H-Hero and—and I didn’t stop it—”

Everyone let him cry a moment, trying to process what he’d said. Time tried to process what he’d said.

A curse. They were cursed? Because of this Demise person that Sky had fought? Did he mean in that they had to fight Ganon? The curse was that evil would return? Was Demise Ganon?

I fought his predecessor.

Farore above. Time and Twilight exchanged looks, comprehension dawning on his descendant’s face as well.

Sky predated all of them. All those weeks ago, when he hadn’t known who Ganon was, it was simply because Ganon hadn’t been known by that title yet.

Sky was the first Hero.

And the boy had known it. He’d been festering in these thoughts, he’d been drowning in them.

He’d left to fight the Shadow to fix it.

How could he possibly fix it? What delusion would lead him to believe that defeating the Shadow would stop the curse? What made him think he could salvage what he believed to have destroyed?

Had he assumed they’d just let him? Had he assumed they wouldn’t care about him anymore if they found out?

Time had heard enough.

Moving closer, he slowly pulled Sky to him. He held the boy tightly, so tightly it almost hurt, and Sky melted into him, knees sliding down so the pair could be heart to heart. The young knight became incoherent with his sobs, though Time could hear I’m sorry stammered over and over and over.

Just like when he’d died.

And oh how the pieces fell into place. Oh how Time’s heart hurt. Oh how he knew of such guilt, how he remembered it finally sinking in after Kakariko was set ablaze all those years ago, how a nine-year-old child in a sixteen-year-old’s body finally registered that the world had been irreparably damaged because he’d opened the way to the Sacred Realm. The years after taught him that it was not his fault alone, that it was an accident, but he knew.

He figured, unfortunately, that they all knew to a degree. They were all human, after all. They all made mistakes.

Sky had nearly—actually—gotten himself killed out of guilt. He had been avoiding them out of guilt.

“T-the—the Shadow—” Sky tried to continue. “Ganon, G-Ganondorf, they’re all my fault!”

“So, like, this Demise guy became Ganon?” Wind surmised quietly.

“I think that’s the idea,” Four murmured.

“Wait,” Wild chimed in. “So Sky fought Demise, and Demise won and cursed him? Cursed all of us?”

Legend shrugged. “You think we’re going to get the full story out of him now?”

Sky was practically hyperventilating at this point. Time squeezed harder, and he could feel the boy struggle to breathe against him. Dipping his face into Sky’s hair, he gave him a soft reassuring kiss on his head.

“Shh,” he whispered so only Sky could hear. “Breathe, Sky. It’s okay.”

To his credit, Sky did try. He took one shuddering breath after another, holding it and releasing it. The occasional hiccup interrupted the pattern, and he’d start to spiral again until Time shushed him gently once more. As Sky’s breathing settled into exhausted panting rather than choking gasps, Time released his hold a little, letting Sky lean back a little. The teenager’s head rested on Time’s chest, his eyes closed as he sniffled.

“What happened with Demise?” Time tried again. He needed to finish getting the full picture. Sky’s guilt over a curse and a perceived failure had caused this, but Sky’s perception was clearly off. Time needed facts.

“Did he defeat you?” Wild asked quietly.

Sky’s eyes snapped open, and his entire body stiffened. The tears practically evaporated in the searing heat of his sudden anger. He wasn’t glaring at anyone in particular, but the look was enough to make Time take a step back.

“No,” Sky spat. “I killed him. But before he died, he—he said—he cursed all of you. He said—he said he’d come back. Again and again and again. And I just stood there and let him do it.”

Sky turned to look at Wild now, fists so tight the skin was paling, but it was obvious the vitriol was aimed only at himself. “You speak of failure, as if the Calamity that destroyed your world was your fault. I destroyed all of Hyrule for all time, before it was ever even made. I destroyed Skyloft’s future. My people, my home, my family, and all of you. The future! I destroyed all of it!”

His anger evaporated in an instant as the words finally spilled out, and the tears returned. Sky crumpled to the ground, Time and Twilight barely able to catch him before he hit the floor.

“And h-he—and he—the Shadow—” Sky sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

The group watched helplessly for a moment as Time held the boy, not knowing what to say but desperately wanting to soothe him.

“You didn’t destroy Hyrule.”

The first to speak was their youngest. Wind stood, tall and defiant, glaring at the Skyloftian.

“Hyrule won’t be destroyed by anyone,” Wind continued. “Even without a Hero, it persevered. And it needs its heroes. We’re not cursed.”

“That’s right,” The traveler agreed, also rising and nodding. “We chose to fight and we’re proud of it. We defeat that curse time and again. And Hyrule always survives.”

“You didn’t all choose it,” Sky disagreed shakily, clearly distressed still. “I—I know you didn’t. And you—some of you were children. It isn’t fair—”

“Ganon is hardly fair, and he’s far beyond anything we can comprehend,” Warriors cut in. “When I fought him, my predecessor had split his soul into pieces to prevent him from ever returning and even that didn’t work. You can’t… you can’t blame yourself for a demonic power that’s far beyond any of us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Legend suddenly snapped. “Far beyond any of us. Ha! We all defeated him.”

Sky watched Legend with fear evident in his eyes. Time threw a stern glare towards the veteran, warning him to watch his words. The teenager ignored him.

“Sky,” Legend said slowly. “Ganon’s killed people like us. I came from the legacy of a Hero who fell when he fought him. The fact that you bested him is a testament to your strength, it is a testament to the fact that you did everything you could. I defeated him and he still came back. Our traveler is proof of that. You’re not responsible for his curse, he is.”

“B-but it was my job to prevent that,” Sky argued. “Hylia chose me to stop him, to kill him. It was—it was supposed to be over.”

“Who’s Hylia?” Wind whispered to Four, who shrugged.

“I was supposed to end the threat as well,” Time said. “Yet my descendant fought the very same monster I had. And not only that, but he somehow managed to attack the Sailor in a completely different timeline.”

“B-but—”

“Link. Stop trying to rationalize this.” Time interrupted, reaching forward to rest his hands on Sky’s arms. “You can’t rationalize that kind of hatred. Ganon isn’t a man, he’s a monster. And you’re not to blame for his actions.”

“He cursed me and I didn’t kill him!” Sky yelled. “He was saying the words, I could have ended it then!”

“So why didn’t you?” Four questioned quietly.

“B-because—because—” Sky stammered, hyperventilating, terrified now that he was under scrutiny. Time was going to just end the conversation there, but the knight continued, “I thought—I didn’t know, I didn’t know! Ghirahim spoke words just like that and they were empty—he didn’t set his mind to murdering me until the end, he was just insane and—and Demise was already dying, and I—”

“Listen well, Link,” Legend said firmly, walking closer to him and holding his attention. “Whatever his words may have been, that doesn’t even guarantee you could have stopped him. And of my many adventures, I didn’t even fight him in all of them. Enemies will always rise to destroy this land, and the Heroes of Hyrule will always rise to fight them. That’s not a curse. It’s an honor.”

Sky watched him a long time, seeming to let the words sink in, but something darkened his features, and he glanced at Time. “Such an honor that you hate those who helped you through it? That you hate anything having to do with it?”

Time stared, dumbfounded, and then understood. Sky was no longer talking about Ganon.

This was about that damn sword.

Sighing, Time looked away a moment, trying to find the right words. Malon would immediately know what to say to soothe him. Time wasn’t going to lie – his childhood certainly hadn’t been pleasant. But he wouldn’t for one second blame Sky for that. Not when he himself had heard Ganondorf utter a curse against him to follow him, and now learned that two other heroes had to deal with the man.

Perhaps that was a good place to start. “Sky, you’re not the only one who’s let him return to attack again. We’re all testaments of that. Do you think we all blame each other for it?”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Warriors said firmly. “It’s pointless to take accountability for the actions of someone else, no matter what. You can’t control Demise, or Ganondorf, or anyone else. You defeated him, as was your duty. That’s all anyone can ask for.”

“But now this!” Sky suddenly shouted, tears returning. “Now this, with this Shadow, who says he came from me, that Demise poisoned my soul—”

“Shadows are creatures of dark magic,” Time explained, tone demanding Sky to listen. The knight hiccupped a little pathetically, but he didn’t continue to argue, letting his elder say further, “They feed off darkness, off negative emotions and traits, but they’re not part of us. They’re dark personifications of us. Traveler has fought his Shadow. I have fought mine. The captain has fought his.”

“Three of them, actually,” Warriors admitted dully.

Everyone stared at the captain a moment.

“Goddesses above, how much ego did you have back then to power three Shadows?” Twilight blurted out.

Warriors huffed. “It wasn’t that bad! I had plenty of other negative traits to utilize as well!”

And the dam broke.

First it was Wild who barked out a laugh. Then Four. Then Legend snorted so loudly it made Wind cackle as well. Before long, everyone was laughing.

Well, almost everyone.

As the air filled with giggles and cheerful uproar, Time leaned in so only Sky could hear him. “You’re not alone, Sky. You can’t blame yourself for this. No matter what the Shadow said. We’re all here to help each other. None of us blames you for any of it.”

“Hylia trusted me,” Sky sniffled. “Zelda trusted me.”

“Trusted you to do what?”

“To end it. To make sure war didn’t start again.”

“Again. So he’d done this before?”

Sky buried his face in his hands, and Time let it go briefly, pulling him back to his chest.

“Listen to me,” he whispered. “None of this is your fault. Everything that happened to us after you… that was Demise’s doing. You can’t possibly account for everything that beast can do. I certainly couldn’t, nor could any of the others. But we all defeated him and brought peace to our land and time. You’re not a god, Sky – you can’t protect all the timeline. Even I can’t do that.”

“I’m sorry,” the young one whimpered.

Time’s heart broke again, holding him in his arms as he apologized. The stale air of Arbiter’s Grounds suddenly filled his chest, the dry heat prickled at his skin.

“Don’t apologize,” Time practically growled as he held the boy tightly. “Don’t you dare ever apologize for any of this.”

The laughter around them had faded, lost in Sky’s cries and Time’s order. Everyone huddled around them.

“We love you, Sky,” Wind assured him, his voice shaking a little. Warriors put a hand on the sailor’s shoulder and leaned in as everyone else did.

“You pull this shit again and I’ll kill you myself,” Legend added thickly, burying his face in Sky’s shoulder.

Sky coughed a laugh into Time’s chest. “Sor—”

“No,” Time hissed. “Don’t apologize.”

And so the knight held his tongue, letting himself be held by the other heroes. After a few minutes, the hug slowly eased off, though everyone hovered close. Twilight tossed pillows on the ground so everyone could sit in a circle around Time and Sky. As the Skyloftian calmed, letting himself stay in Time’s protective embrace, a more placid conversation started, turning the original interrogation into a story to be told instead.

Sky was sometimes vague on details, but Warriors pressed for every piece of information. Hylia’s identity and role in the matter, the legends of the war led by a demon king, a god of chaos and destruction and hatred who tried to destroy not only what would be Hyrule, but the entire world. And, most importantly, Sky’s role in this legend.

The boy had fought a god.

“So, to be clear, you, a tiny little student who lived in the sky, fought the god of destruction who nearly annihilated the world, including a goddess, and you’re upset you couldn't entirely kill him despite defeating him.” Legend summarized flatly.

Warriors huffed. “That’s certainly an impressive feat. But by the goddesses, I thought I had an ego – what would make you think you could summarily destroy a god, Sky?”

“I did,” Sky noted bitterly. “With the Triforce. But then Ghirahim interfered and traveled to the past.”

“Of course he did,” Time grumbled under his breath. That had to be what Sky was talking about with timeshift items.

“To be so close…” Four muttered thoughtfully. “It’s no wonder it’s so frustrating. But still… why didn’t you tell any of us? Why did you just set out?”

Sky squirmed a little in Time’s embrace. “I… everyone talked about how the Shadow could be Ganon. I had to… I wanted to finish what I’d started. Rancher had almost died, and… and I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

Guilt, as Time had figured. But apparently also just plain adolescent stupidity.

The same pride and bravery that led to a child princess creating an intricate plan that would fail. Time bit back a sad laugh. If he had any doubt about Sky’s place in the royal family lineage, it was fading fast.

Goddesses, the boy would start the royal family, wouldn’t he?

“Wow. And I thought Rancher was bad,” Wild noted.

Twilight threw him a dull glare. “You’re not any better, Champion.”

“You saw time and again how much effort it took to eliminate just the monsters he was sending everywhere,” Legend pointed out, growing frustrated. “Yet you thought you could take him on alone? You saw what he did to—”

“That’s why I had to do it,” Sky argued, pulling out of Time’s arms as he filled with fiery energy. “Everyone here has done their part, and I—”

The knight’s mouth clamped shut as everyone dared him to finish his sentence. Instead, he sighed in defeat, leaning back against his elder’s chest.

It was going to take time for Sky to believe what they had told him. It would take a while for him to accept that he wasn’t at fault. But Time was certain they would all be keeping an eye on him and ensuring he did finally accept the truth.

“Where’s the potion?” Time asked softly, rubbing Sky’s arm reassuringly and ending the stressful conversation.

Hyrule wordlessly grabbed it and held it out. When Sky started to falter in holding it, Warriors leaned over to assist.

“I believe that’s enough excitement for tonight,” Time remarked, standing and pulling Sky up with him, easily situating him in a carry like he’d done multiple times while the boy had slept.

“You need rest as well, old man,” Warriors noted, holding out his arms. “Your advanced years require it.”

The younger Links snorted back laughs, and Time let the jab slide. He could see the pleading in the captain’s eyes, the need to just hold the boy. He handed him over.

As Sky let himself be carried, he felt his heart racing despite the exhaustion pulling him under. He heard murmuring and wishes of good night, and a last promise of their care from many of his brothers-in-arms. He felt like he could break apart once more.

It felt… he didn’t know. Freeing and heartbreaking. An acceptance he couldn’t possibly deserve, but desperately wanted. A promise that it wasn’t his fault that couldn’t possibly be true.

But… the others had spoken of things that he had not considered.

Ganondorf had uttered a curse to Time. They all had successors despite their victories. But…

It still didn’t change the fact that it had started with Sky.

And it didn’t answer the questions that the Shadow’s words had brought forth.

Sky felt his world shift as Warriors settled on the bed alongside him, letting him rest on the captain like a pillow. The elder Link wouldn’t let go.

Sky felt the guilt crush him anew, though with a different flavor.

“I’m sorry I caused all this,” he mumbled, too exhausted to elaborate, wishing more than anything he didn’t have to apologize anymore despite knowing he should.

Warriors sighed through his nose. “You’re more stubborn than I gave you credit for. How many times do we have to tell you—”

“No,” Sky interrupted. “I mean… I mean for what’s happened lately. I’m… I guess I didn’t…”

“Didn’t expect us to care that much?”

Sky shriveled a little. No. He… he hadn’t.

Why would he? He was among the quietest and least noticed in the group. He was teased for his sleepiness, admired for his fighting prowess but never really…

Legend had cried. He’d made Legend cry. He’d hurt all of them. The fact that the captain was refusing to let go... he'd figured that, next to Time, Warriors certainly viewed him with the least concern. Time for obvious reasons, but the captain... Sky just couldn't compare to him. Besides...

Sky was always the invisible one, it felt like. But he supposed maybe how he felt was wrong.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say.

“I’m sorry too,” Warriors acknowledged. “I’m sorry you ever thought that… goddesses, Link, we…”

“I know,” Sky said for him, knowing he was struggling to express himself. They all struggled with that sometimes, but someone as stoic as the captain was especially prone to it. Sky knew that about him. He knew a lot about all of them. He’d observed a lot. It allowed him to ease seamlessly between his brothers, to help them and soothe their worries, to figure out the best way to keep the peace between all of them.

He'd always just felt like the helper, but never really belonging. He supposed…

Well, he certainly felt far more seen than ever. He wasn’t sure he enjoyed all the attention, but goddess if it wasn’t validating and reassuring.

“We love you, Sky,” Warriors whispered so softly Sky almost missed it.

The young knight could hear the captain’s heart racing, could feel how his arms shook. He basked in the surprise and assurance of it before his heart could no longer take the pain radiating from his fellow knight. He wiggled a little bit to return the hug he was receiving, willing all his warmth and care into it, suddenly filled with concern. “I love you too.”

Warriors took a shaky breath, and one of his hands slid up to hold the back of Sky’s head as he buried his face in the younger knight’s hair. The bed gently sank as someone else joined, and Sky could feel the wolf pelt against his skin. As the warmth of the embrace and the promise of love and safety enveloped him, he vaguely heard more footsteps shuffle in, though by the time he had fallen asleep he’d lost count of how many of his brothers had managed to sneak into the room.

Time was last, smiling down at all his boys as they huddled around the Skyloftian in the center. They were all back together, and he was safe, and their leader would ensure it stayed that way.

The promise of safety felt a little more tenuous the next morning when the queen brought information of a portal being spotted by Lake Hylia. But the assurance of Sky remaining with the group was all the promise they needed. Everyone kept a close eye on the young knight as they traveled together.

The gate stood before them, dark and ominous. But they stood together, united and strong. They would keep each other safe.

Hylia’s Chosen Hero looked to the others. He saw Wild, scarred but continuing despite it all. He saw Wind, optimistic, a promise of a future yet to come. He saw Legend, beaten down by life but not defeated by it. He saw Four, eager and ready to face the unknown. He saw Hyrule, relentless and resolute. He saw Twilight, heart ever glowing and bleeding for those around him. He saw Time, wise and strong. He saw Warriors, the knight that he sought to be.

Shifting his blade on his back, feeling her hum against him, Sky stared determinedly through the portal, and marched ahead with his brothers.

[tired-teacher-blog]

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

Mature content ahead so please be warned : 18+

It's well past seven and the studio has started welcoming its clients, everyone is here, even the one who's always late -Mr Shirakumo- has already walked in hurriedly moments ago, however your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen.

It's weird and worrisome, he has never missed a day's work and to top it all off, he's not even picking up his phone to respond to your calls.

You only want to make sure he's alright, even if your plans fall through, it's totally fine as long as he reassures you he's alright.

You look up the dark wintery sky and breathe out heavily while wondering what to do, should you wait for him in the studio? Or should you just go home? In any case, you cannot keep standing outside your shop in this freezing weather.

How ironic, this was supposed to be a pleasant evening that you've been awaiting for the whole day, but now you're alone, cold and miserable, and worst of all you are clueless as to what's keeping him away.

Maybe you should drop by his place, that would be totally fine right? But, doesn't him not responding to your calls mean he wouldn't prefer seeing you now? 

In the end you decide to gather up your courage and walk into his studio to see if the others have heard from him.

_ "Oh yeah! He just called to say he won't be coming because he's busy with something." is what Mr Yamada responded to your question.

Well, at least he's alright..

You drag yourself home and go straight to bed because today has been exhausting, first it was that mind twisting encounter with the mysterious lady, and now your boyfriend's inexplicable avoidance of you.

You're too tired to even feel bad for yourself, your brain is fuzzy and your limbs are aching and all you want to do is fall asleep and forget about everything that happened today..

A knock, and another, and a persistent ringing of the door bell..

You cannot hear anything though, not yet at least, since you're deep in slumber and curled up under the covers, but the knocking doesn't stop, and neither does the ringing, in fact they get much louder and more urgent that your body jolts in surprise and you're instantly sitting up with terror stricken face and a trembling frame.

It's almost 11 o'clock, that's what you read on your phone as soon as your vision is focused, so who might this be?

You wobble your way to the door hurriedly, watching your steps in the dimly lit hallway until you reach the blaring pounding on the poor door.

_ "Wh.. who is it?" you're frightened and will not open to anyone blindly.

_ "It's me."

It's him, you can recognize that voice among million others, "Shouta.."

You clumsily struggle with the door lock that refuses to budge, cursing under your breath and almost whining at the device until it's finally undone, and as soon as you pull the door open and look up at him with eager eyes, total darkness engulfs you as he bolts in to hug you tightly.

_ "Shouta, wait, hold on." your words are muffled against his chest as he slams the door behind himself with a swift kick of his foot and steps inside with you still in his arms.

You hug him back and give in to his wishes, walking backwards as he hastily guides you to your room and practically throws you onto the bed before climbing on top of you and proceeding to remove your delicate sleep shirt.

It's all happening too fast that you're unable to keep up with him, what has gotten into him? Why is he being so forceful and impatient? He hasn't even utter a single word yet and it's worrying you sick.

_ "Shouta please.. just.. talk to me." you struggle between sloppy kisses but he doesn't seem to actually hear you.

He has never been this way before, and it's making you suspect that something might have happened, so could him not showing up this evening be the reason for his strange behavior?

He's still not talking, and is instead gnawing at the soft skin of your chest while his hands are squeezing your thighs scarily tight, that you're positive to gain bruises by morning.

When did he manage to tear away your panties? And how could he discard his own clothes when his hands have never left your body?

Is this what he wants? Sex, right now? You wouldn't have opposed to it, certainly, but you wish you could at least understand what's troubling him.

_ "Shouta wait, wait please talk to me," not a response still, as he is now drawing his saliva coated fingers from his mouth to bring them to your cunt.

_ "Please stop! Shouta you're scaring me!" you didn't mean to sound loud and whiny, but doing so seems to have finally snapped him out of it.

_ "I'm.. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry please forgive me." he sits up at once, kneeling between your legs while pleading with a sorrowful voice and a regretful expression that break your heart.

You can understand his reaction perfectly though, he has never been rough with you, and the idea of accidentally mistreating you frightens him, but what he miserably failed to realize, is that you're actually concerned about what's troubling him and so, you rush to explain.

_ "No, no that's not it," you shuffle around the blankets and sit across from him, knees touching as you gently lift up his head and cradle his cheek, "what scares me is this look on your face," you force a reassuring smile before continuing, "something's wrong isn't it? Can't you tell me what it is?" you try carefully to make sense of the situation.

_ "I just want to be with you tonight." he's obviously not ready to open up yet, and that's fine, you don't want to force an answer out of him, you're just glad he came to you.

_ "Me too Shouta, I want to be with you tonight and every night!" and the giggle you let out afterwards is genuine, and it reaches him as he visibly relaxes at last, "so, you want to lay down with me?" you suggest and he instantly nods before pushing you down on your plushy mattress and collapsing on top of you.

_ "I'm sorry for missing our date tonight, and for being so forceful just now." he mumbles faintly against your chest but you catch every word perfectly.

You are aware of the compromising position you're in right now, fully naked and pressed underneath him, but it's okay, you don't mind it at all, you're perfectly comfortable even like this.

_ "No, don't apologize that's totally fine, you're here now and that's all I want." you kiss the top of his head while threading your fingers through his raven locks as he nuzzles you deeper, "oh by the way, what about Eri? Where is she?"

_ "She's home, I asked her nanny to spend the night with her 'cause I didn't want her to see me like this."

_ "You're right, she's really smart and she would have known that something was off." you respond fondly and hug him even closer to yourself, "just get some sleep okay? I'll be right here when you wake up."

It doesn't take much longer after that for his breath to even out and deathly clutches to loosen up, however, the same thing cannot be said about you as you spend the rest of the night fighting with endless questions that didn't seem to have any logical answer.

What happened to him? Why does he look devastated? Why can't he open up to you? And.. and, does this -in anyway- have anything to do with the mysterious lady who visited your shop earlier?

You feel useless and defeated while your beloved is clearly suffering, you wish there was anything more you can do than offering him a shoulder to lean on, but that's all you're allowed to do now.

You sigh heavily and kiss his head again before closing your own eyes and trying to forget about it for now, but sleep eludes you as expected, and you know that it's going to be a long night..

To be continued..

[xwritingdixonx]

Till Death Do Us Part | Chapter 8 |

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series masterlist

Summary: Emotions run high after the death of Pete, causing many truths to be revealed.

Warnings: language (of course), mentions of cheating, mention of suicide

Word Count: aprox. 3k

Tags: @bigbaldheadname @daryldixcnswife @alanamarie @suniloli @fuseburner

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Words and insults threw themselves around the dining room. You were tired and angry but mostly irritated at the fact that that bastard's blood had splattered on your nightgown. "We are fucked!" Eddie spoke, matter of factly to Nellie, "We don't know that!" She argued back.

"Deanna is grieving. I doubt the first thing on her mind is kicking us out." Despite his anger towards what had been done to his boys, Tommy did his best to be reasonable. As he always has done.

You couldn't imagine the grief that surely engulfed Deanna. She had lost her son and husband in such a short span of time. You knew, had it been you, you would have gone mad already. You’d be tearing down the world and everything that stood in your way.

“I say we take Alexandria like how we wanted from the beginning. We could have it before the sun rises!”

Your eyes snapped to Eddie in an instant, disbelieving the way he just spat that out as if it was nothing.

You heard Daryl mutter a, what? from beside you. “Wait” Rick stepped forward with a sarcastic chuckle, “it’s been your plan this whole time?” Multiple yes’s we’re shouted at him at once, including your own. You had never watched a man shut his mouth so quickly. At least now he understood. He understand your fight for Alexandria, he understood the roles you played. He was just beginning to play checkers but you were already winning chess.

Standing from your seated position at the table, “We do nothing, we deal with what comes tomorrow.” You flashed everyone a hard stare, a knowing look, too exhausted for any insubordination. Your mind spiraled with thoughts and worries of the boys well-being, of Alexandria, of Daryl. Your body and mind ached for you to just simply rest. Dropping your mouth open to continue, you waved your hand in the air almost in a way to stop your own words. “No, I’m going to bed.”

You stood at the bathroom sink, only in your underwear, scrubbing with hot water the blood stains on the light silky fabric. The bathroom door was open halfway, allowing a stream of light into the dark bedroom. The sound of the bedroom door opening and closing pulled you from your task.

Using your foot to kick open the bathroom door completely, you watched Daryl take a seat on the edge of the bed, letting out a deep sigh when he hit the plush mattress. A sigh escaped your own lips, shutting off the sink as the hot water had begun to turn the undertones of your skin a burning red.

You hung the gown to dry and left the bathroom to your dresser, in need of new pajamas. “Hopefully the stains come out.” No response met your words. Daryl kept his back to you, head hung low while playing with his hands. Something was bothering him, you could feel it the second he entered the room. “It’s stupid to wear something like that now anyway. It just made feel pretty and-“

“Why are ya lyin’ to me?” Daryl disrupted your babbling words.

It made you freeze in your tracks, t shirt in hand.

“I’m not lying to you.” You slipped the t shirt over your head and closed the dresser drawer a tad harder than intended, causing some of the nick nacks on top to rattle. Daryl scoffed and adjusted his position so he was sat up in bed, back against the backboard.You chose to ignore his scoff and went to turn off the light in the bathroom. Though the room was now dark, the feeling stayed the same.

You plugged in the dim lamp on your nightstand, knowing you would have to go through a martial dispute before granting yourself the rest you desired.

You sat on your side on the bed, leaning your body over to him. “What am I lying about?” The room was dim but your eyes had adjusted enough to see the glare he gave you. “Been lyin’ since the start. You lied bout’ where you were before. Bout’ Alexandria. Bout’ yourself. Hell, feel like all the things i’m findin’ out ain’t even coming from you.”

“And what do you mean by that?” You could admit you’d lied. But did he even for a second think that perhaps your lies and secrets were because you weren’t ready to tell the truth?

Daryl hesitated. He was angry but what he wanted to say was irrational, it was a thought that had never crossed his mind before tonight. “What was Pete talking bout’?” Your eyebrows furrowed from confusion, “What do you mean D?” He once again hesitated.

“Luke said Pete was saying’ stuff bout’ Tommy and you. I saw the look on yer face, you knew what he was sayin’.” The hand you had placed lovingly on Daryl’s thigh retreated. Your posture straightened as your body seemed to recoil itself away from him. Almost like a turtle slipping back into its shell.

Daryl watched your movements, only feeding into the insecurity that was pounding at his chest. Daryl had always been insecure when it came to you. He never believed he deserved you. Always believed that someone smarter and more attractive would come along and swoop you away. It had been his greatest fear since day one.

“Are you trying to ask me if I fucked Tommy? My dead sister’s husband?”

With the tone of harshness you had presented the statement with, it made Daryl feel ashamed. Ashamed at the way he allowed his own insecurities to eat away at him. Ashamed that such an accusation like that could’ve even been made wether it was from him or the mouths of others.

“I don’t know.” Deep within him he knew it wasn’t true but the anxiety of you saying yes still remained.

You laughed. You laughed at him. He looked at you to confirm what his ears heard and surely you had a sad smile on your face. Tears welled in your eyes. You looked away from him as they began to fall.

“Me and Tommy have gotten close over these years, especially after Lizzie.” Your tone was thick with sadness. “It was just us and the boys on the road after Lizzie. I had to talk him out of following Lizzie so many times. Even had to stop him once.”

Those were some of the darkest days you had ever encountered.

“When we got to Alexandria, Tommy didn’t have a wife, I didn’t have a husband. I stayed around Tommy and the boys a lot at the beginning. They were who I felt safe with but….people talked.”

There were sobs growing within your chest, rising to your throat. “I’ve taken care of those boys as if they’re my own because that’s what Lizzie wanted. And I’ve been called the nastiest things for it.” It was a frustration and sadness you couldn’t begin to explain. You took a second to find a breath, wiping away tears. “So no. I have never fucked Tommy. I can't believe you'd let these fucking Alexandrians get in your head like that."

Daryl’s insecurities were now replaced with guilt. Such a sorrowing and decaying feeling.

“I’ve only lied to you because I know the truth is going to hurt you a lot more. Especially about where I was before Alexandria. I was…” You stopped when you saw the fearful tears prickling his eyes. “I was abused and humiliated.” He lowered his head, unable to look at you, never seen such sadness in your eyes before. “M’sorry. M’sorry.” He repeated as his guilt grew, eating away at his conscious. “It’s my fault. I left ya.”

You knew you were meant to be angry with him but the rise in your emotions demanded the comfort from him. And you wouldn’t let him sit and blame himself for the traumas you had endured.

You crawled to him, making room for yourself between his legs, resting your head on his chest. His arms wrapped themselves around you in an instant, pulling you closer. The simplicity of his body temperature was enough to comfort you. All the times this world had thrown you down and dragged you through the mud, this was the person you had spent your time crying out for.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You reassured, your hands running up his shirt and rubbing his bare skin for comfort. When there failed to be a response, you pulled away, only to look up and see the tears that silently fell down his cheeks. “It wasn’t your fault D.” You reached a hand up to rub the tears from staining his face. “I promise we’ll talk about it more. But please, go to bed with me?”

"Lizzie!" You grasped your sisters arm and yanked her away from the group of walkers that busted through the back door of the pharmacy. It was meant to be a simple trip into the pharmacy. Luke had been feeling under the weather due to the allergies in the Spring air.

If you could just find him some Aleve or Claritin, everyone would be put at ease with his health.

You rushed out of the pharmacy, slamming the door and placing back the crowbar that had been lodged in the door handle. Looking back, you should’ve taken it as a warning to stay away.

“You alright?” Lizzie had obviously been startled by the sudden disturbance of what was meant to be, an easy scavenge. Her eyes were still wide with shock but she nodded. “Come on, let’s go back to camp.” You playfully shoved her shoulder, holding up a very crushed box of Tylenol Cold and Flu pills in your hand. She laughed and snatched it from you following you back into the tree line.

Camp wasn’t exactly a place to call home. You had set up in the middle of a clearing in the woods, just by the edge of a small hill. Lizzie rubbed Luke’s back motherly as he sneezed over his can of soup. “It’s okay, sweet boy. Medicine should kick in shortly.” The sun was setting and you’d have to stuff out the fire soon so no one would see the light. Someone spotting the smoke worried you enough.

Lizzie slept as she always did, sandwiched in between her two boys. Providing them with her own body heat. “You and Henry gonna start cuddling too or?” You joked with Tommy as the two of you began setting up your own “beds”. Your joke earned a deep chuckle from the man. “Fortunately, Henry’s taking up watch duty tonight.”

Though you and Tommy had ended that night joking and picking on the other, the morning would put a stop to that for a long time.

You were awoken by a blood curdling scream. You scurried to stand to your feet before your mind was even fully awake. “Jace? Luke?” Your heart sank as you saw the scene before you. Luke hid behind Jace as Jace shoved Lizzie away. Tears streaming down both of their faces. But that wasn’t Lizzie, not with those awful sounds and movements.

“Boys come!” You shouted, only causing who was once your sister to turn to you. It was as if you froze, your hand was placed on the blade on your belt but you couldn’t grab it. It was her…only paler. And empty.

Bang!

Jumping at the sudden noise and the thud that followed, you turned your teary eyes to Tommy. His shaking hand still on the trigger. The shock of what he did froze him like that for a second. But the absolute agony hit him even faster. “What did I- What did I do?” He repeated between sobs.

You looked to Henry who, just like everyone, was in a great deal of shock.

It was the clicking of the pistol that pulled you from your own daze, “Tommy no!” There wasn’t any hesitation when you tackled the man down, sending both of you for a tumble down the side of the hill. You landed on a particularly large rock. The cracking sound you heard within your ribcage made every inch of your body shiver.

You laid there, clutching your side, trying to take in every breath of air as the wind had been knocked out of you on impact. You laid there staring up at the tree tops accepting the pain of your injury. For a second, there was peace. Though you knew you weren’t dying, you figured this would be the best way to go. Lying in nature, looking at the sky. And you wondered if Lizzie felt this peace just hours ago, laying with her boys, stargazing at the night sky. And you wondered if she knew.

When Henry brought you back up to camp and laid you down on your sleeping bag, you learned that she did know. The letter she had left you was tucked on the inside of the bag. You didn’t read it until you arrived at Alexandria two months later.

And within that letter gave you every reason to begin your plan in taking Alexandria. Wether you played a quick brutal game or a slow manipulative one, you were going to take care of her boys and keep them safe. Just like she wanted.

The morning came quicker than you hoped. When you awoke, it was plenty early enough to fall back asleep with time to spare. But the anxiety rush that awoke you in the first place surely wasn’t going to allow that. Not knowing if the place you called home, could be called home much longer was quite the alarm clock.

After you had dragged yourself from Daryl’s embrace, you forced yourself to get ready for what was to come.

The sun had yet to rise but the sky was a cool bluish gray, it seemed to fit the mood. There was a slight crisp in the air. Alluding to the fact that the fall months were going to begin shortly. It made you wish you had put on some sort of light jacket but you hoped the warmth from the mug in your hand would provide enough warmth.

It was too early for anyone else to be awake especially after last night. The streets were bare and empty, exempt for the pools of blood which stained the concrete outside of the Anderson home. You weren’t sure if that sight or the chilly morning air caused you to shiver.

You continued your walk until you got to your favorite spot in all of Alexandria. The small wooden bridge that overlooked the stream that led down into the pond. It was pushed back away from the road and the few trees and bushes kept it as hidden as possible. You leaned your elbows on the railing, blowing at the steam surfacing from your cup.

You’d bring the boys here to talk. You’d sit yourselves under the middle wood railing and let your feet dangle, almost touching the water below. Jace would sit on one side, Luke on the other. At the beginning of summer, you’d watch the frog eggs turn into tadpoles, and the tadpoles turn into frogs.

It's the strong smell of coffee that makes you fix your posture, standing up straight. You don't look at her but you know she's standing beside you. "Knew it was me?" Deanna asked. "You nodded in response. "Only two people I've ever known drink their coffee that strong. My mama...and you." Had it been any other day, she would've laughed but all you got back was silence.

"We're gonna have a funeral for them later today. If you'd like to come." You wanted to say you were sorry. That was what you were taught to do. Say sorry for your loss, attend the funeral, shed a few tears, and then go on. But Deanna didn't seem to be in the mood for sorry's or condolences. "I don't think that's a good idea."

A loud thud caused you to jump. It came from the wall that stood to your far right. It was followed by moans and groans that were louder than normal in the dead of the early morning. "What do you see when you look at them?" Now you looked at her, giving her an odd glare.

"You're around them more than I've ever been, what do you see?"

"Depends." You racked your brain trying to figure out if this was some elaborate question. Some sort of question to put your humanity to the test. "We, the living, see ourselves as so much better than them. But in reality, we're seconds away from being just like them." You watched as a frown formed on Deanna's face at those words. In an attempt to lighten the mood, "It is harder to be compassionate when they're trying to eat you of course."

It was small but you did see her lip almost turn into a smile. "Living behind these walls for all that time...never even imagined losing people. Especially not Reg." She looked away as she said his name, sorrow, and guilt flooding her face. She took a breath to compose herself, "That's not what a good leader does. They dont shelter their people so much that all they know is fear."

You weren't sure if there was a point to her rambling or if she just simply needed to vent to someone who would listen. So, you sipped your tea and awaited her continuation. "I'm sorry Y/n." You looked to her in an instant, not knowing what she was apologizing for. "I've been so stubborn when it comes to you...because I know you'll be a better ruler than I ever could've been."

"What?"

The sun began to peek over the walls of Alexandria, creating an ever-so-fitting glow on the scenery around you. "Reg saw it a long time ago. He believed in you. He wanted you to have Alexandria after both of us were gone. I was just too stubborn to listen."

Words couldn't seem to form themselves on your tongue though your mind ran quick. "What about Spencer? Aren't things like this supposed to be passed to your children."

Deanna scoffed at this. Had she been anymore dramatic about it, she would've spit out her coffee. "I don't even trust him with the liquor cabinet in the house." Though the truth behind the statement was dark, Deanna chuckled. There was a moment of silence as the both of you looked to the bright sun, feeling the rays on your morning skin.

Deanna reached for your free hand with hers. Her skin was drier with more fine lines than your soft smoothed hands. To you, it showed the years she lived, the sons she'd raised, and the man she'd loved with those very hands. "Promise me you'll do great things ?"

"I swear it."

Heir to Alexandria.

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - none i dont think

y/nn = your nickname for anyone confused🩷

Chapter 4

It was already Christmas 1959, and I had no idea what to get Matt. I walked through the crowded streets of Wiesbaden, windowshopping, trying to get ideas. Picking out gifts for the family had always been easy, since we always knew exactly what was wanted or needed; in fact, we often made our gifts for one another. On this occasion my father gave me thirty-five dollars to spend on Matt, and it seemed a vast amount to me when I set out on this freezing cold day. I was slapped with the reality when I noticed a beautiful hand-made cigar box with porcelain outlining and a decorative design. Matt, a cigar smoker, would have loved it. But after the shopkeeper told me the price, 650 Deutsche marks or $155, all I walked out with was my expensive taste.

It was snowing heavily and I hurried into another shop, this one full of bright toys, including a solidly built toy German train that I could imagine Matt instantly setting up in his living room. But the train cost 2,000 Deutsche marks.

Heading home in the dark, on the verge of tears, I spotted a music store, where a pair of bongo drums inlaid with gleaming brass were displayed in the window. They were forty dollars, but the clerk took mercy on me and sold them for thirty-five. As I headed home I was beset by a thousand doubts, convinced that the drums were the least romantic of gifts.

I must have asked Nate Doe and David Jones twenty times if they thought the drums were appropriate. “Oh sure,” Nate said. “Anything you give him, he’ll like.” I still wasn’t convinced.

On the night we exchanged gifts, Matt emerged from his dad’s room and drew me to one corner of the living room, where he handed me a small wrapped box, in it, a delicate gold watch with a diamond set on the lid and a ring with a pearl bracketed by two diamonds.

I had never owned anything so beautiful, nor had any smile ever warmed me as Matt’s did then. “I’ll cherish these forever,” I told him, and he made me put them on right away and took me around to show everyone.

I waited as long as possible to give Matt my present. Laughing, he said, “Bongos! Just what I always wanted!” Matt could see that I didn’t believe him; he was better at giving than receiving. “Charlie,” he persisted, “didn’t I need some bongos?”

Motioning for me to sit next to him at the piano, he started playing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” with such emotion that I couldn’t look up for fear he’d see I was crying. When at last I couldn’t resist meeting his eyes, I saw that he too was holding back tears.

It was not until many days later that I discovered a whole closet full of bongo drums, mine not included, in the basement. The fact that my white elephants had not been throw into the closet but instead were prominently displayed beside his guitar made me love him all the more.

As the days passed I began to dread the day of Matt’s departure. By January he was already packing, and each night I spent with him became more precious than the one before.

Then, just as the weather turned freezing cold, Matt was sent out on field maneuvers for ten days, and if there was anything Matt hated, it was having to sleep outside on the frozen ground.

The morning after he left, it began to snow and by afternoon it was a blizzard. As Michelle and I were driving home from school with my mother, I turned on the radio, just in time to hear a late-breaking news bulletin.

“Sorry to interrupt, folks, but it was just reported that Corporal Matt Sturniolo has been rushed from field maneuvers to a hospital in Frankfurt, suffering from an acute attack of tonsillitis. Matt, if you’re listening, we all hope you get well real soon.”

Frantic with worry, I called the hospital, hoping to learn more about his condition. To my surprise, when the operator heard my name she put me right through, saying Corporal Sturniolo had left word to do so if I called.

“I’m a sick man, Little One,” Matt rasped. “I need you by my side. If it’s okay with your folks, I’ll send David for you right now.”

Of course my parents gave me permission to go to the hospital, and an hour later I entered his room, just as the nurse was leaving. Matt was propped up in bed with a thermometer in his mouth, surrounded by dozens of floral arrangements.

The moment the nurse was gone, Matt took the thermometer out of his mouth, lit a match, and carefully held it under the thermometer. Then he stuck the thermometer back in his mouth and slumped down on the bed just as the door opened and the nurse returned, carrying in even more flowers.

Smiling warmly to her famous patient, she took the thermometer out of Matt’s mouth, looked at it, and gasped, “A hundred and three. Why, Matt, you’re really sick. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here at least a week.”

Matt nodded mutely as the nurse fluffed up his pillows, filled his water glass, and left the room. Then he burst out laughing, jumped out of bed, and took me in his arms.

He despised maneuvers, and since the weather was so bad and everyone was so worried about his voice, his answer was tonsillitis. Already susceptible to catching colds, Matt learned to dramatize his sickness with a little flick of a match.

It was March 1, 1960, the night before Matt was to leave Germany to return to the States.

We were lying on his bed, our arms around each other. I was in a state of complete despair.

“Oh, Matt,” I said, “I just wish there were some way you could take me with you. I can’t stand the thought of life without you. I love you so much.”

I began sobbing, my anguish overcoming my control.

“Shhh, Baby,” Matt whispered. “Try to calm down. There’s nothing we can do.”

“I’m just afraid you’ll forget me the moment you land,” I cried.

He smiled and kissed me gently. “I’m not going to forget you, y/nn. I’ve never felt this way about another girl. I love you.”

“You do?” I was stunned. Matt had said that I was special before, but he’d never said that he loved me. I wanted so badly to believe him, but I was frightened of getting hurt. I’d read some of Nicole’s letters, and I was sure Matt was on his way back to her open arms.

Holding me close, he said, “I’m torn with the feelings I have for you. I don’t know what to do. Maybe being away will help me understand what I really feel.”

That night our lovemaking took on a new urgency. Would I ever see him again, be in his arms the way I had been nearly every night for the past six months? I missed him already. I could not bear the thought of the night ending and our saying goodbye for what I thought would be the last time. I wept and wept until my body ached with pain.

For the last time I begged him to finally have sex with me. It would have been so easy for him. I was young, vulnerable, desperately in love, and he could have taken complete advantage of me. But he quietly said, “No. Someday we will, y/n, but not now. You’re just too young.”

I lay awake all that night and early the next morning I was back at 18 Hauptstrasse, lost in the midst of a large group of people milling about the living room. They were waiting to say goodbye to Matt, who was upstairs finishing his last-minute packing. Knowing that I alone would be accompanying him to the airport gave me little comfort.

When Matt came downstairs, he laughed and joked with everyone there. Finally, after saying his last goodbye, Matt turned to me. “Okay, Little One, it’s time to go.”

I nodded glumly and followed him out the door. Oblivious to the drizzling rain, hundreds of fans were waiting outside. When they saw Matt they went crazy, begging him to sign autographs. When he finished he jumped into the waiting car and pulled me in behind him. As the door slammed, the driver accelerated and we sped toward the airport.

We rode for a long while in silence, both of us lost in thought. Matt was gazing out the window, frowning over the falling rain. “I know it’s not going to be easy for you to go back to being a schoolgirl again after being with me, y/nn, but you’ve got to. I don’t want you to be sitting around moping after I leave, Little One.”

I started to protest, but he silenced me. “Try to have a good time, write to me every chance you get. I’ll look forward to your letters. Get pink stationery. Address them to Nate. That way I’ll know they’re from you. I want you to promise me you’ll stay the way you are. Untouched, as I left you.”

“I will,” I promised.

“I’ll look for you from the top of the ramp. I don’t want to see a sad face. Give me a little smile. I’ll take that with me.”

Then, handing me his combat jacket and the sergeant’s stripes he’d recently been

awarded, he said, “I want you to have these. It shows you belong to me.” After that, he held me tight.

As we approached the airport, the cheers of the waiting crowds grew louder. We drove as close to the runway as possible, then Matt turned to me and said, “This is it, Baby.”

We got out as cameras flashed, reporters shouted, and screaming fans pressed toward us. Matt held my hand and walked across the runway apron until the guard, who was there to escort Matt to the plane, stopped me from going further.

Matt gave me a brief hug and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll call you when I get home, Baby, promise.”

I nodded, but before I could answer, we were pulled apart as the crowd rushed in. I was swept away by hundreds of fans, pushing and pulling, trying to get to him. I cried, “Matt!” but he never heard me.

He ran up the boarding steps. Then he turned and waved to the crowd, his eyes searching for me. I waved frantically, as did hundreds of other fans, yet he found me, and for one more brief moment, our eyes locked. Then he disappeared. Just like that.

My parents came to the airport to drive me back to Wiesbaden. During the long ride I was silent.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - sad chapter 😪 (sorry its shorter than ones before)🎀

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Lost Souls Part 1｡⋆.

The Lost Princess Chapter 8

Jotun!Loki x plus size reader

With the discovery of who Loki really is, Y/N returns to the avengers determined to forget him, but things are never that simple

Warnings: violence, arranged marriage, angst, enhanced!reader, swearing, unhealthy relationship, age gap, some Steve x reader, Steve is an asshole in this chapter, making out, angst, depression, drugging, sickness, flashbacks, almost smut

WC: 3.9k

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was raining. Fat droplets of water splattered on the thick glass panes of the tower's windows, joining together and falling when their weight became too great. Dark clouds hung over the city like a curtain, concealing the light of the setting sun.

Y/N was alone in the sitting room, her eyes fixated upon the horizon, waiting. The mug of tea cupped in her hands had long-since gone cold but she didn't bother getting up to make a new one, instead she just sat patiently.

There was a flash of silver in the distance and FRIDAY chirped. “Arrival in two minutes ma'am.” Silently, Y/N rose to her feet and placed the mug to the side. She tugged down the sweater she was wearing, once again concealing her scarred skin.

The elevator hummed beneath her socked feet as she stepped inside. Without needed to be commanded, the doors shut and began to move upwards. Each floor that she passed, the elevator dinged.

By the 10th ding, she forced her body to relax, shoulders slumped down, her jaw unclenched. And when the doors opened once more to the empty landing pad, she was smiling brightly.

The wind picked up, sending the rain straight into her face but as the drops of water touched her skin, they evaporated away. The quinjet slowly came into landing, the wings folding with a series of mechanical hums, the engines shutting down as soon as the wheels touched the ground.

Her stomach churned as the plane opened up, revealing a lone figure. The blue of his uniform was dulled by the grey skies behind him and he was slightly dishevelled but he was fundamentally unchanged from when Y/N greeted him that morning.

As soon as his gaze was set upon her, Steve beamed. “Doll!” She knew he loved when she waited for him to return home, he said that it reminded him of the 40s when wives would wait on their husbands.

She braced herself as he ran at her, dropping his shield at her feet before wrapping her up in his arms. Her smile faltered just for a second as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I love coming home to you.” He muttered into her skin, his lips grazing her pulse point.

She didn't answer with words, instead she hugged him even tighter, pretending that what she was supposed to be feeling in the arms of the man who loved her was real. Steve rewarded her with a kiss to her throat before he pulled away. “How about I go shower and then we can have some dinner and cuddle.”

“That sounds perfect.” She cooed and cupped his square jaw, her thumb softly brushing the apple of his cheek. He dipped down and captured her lips in a soft kiss.

“Then let's go, doll.” Steve grabbed his shield and swung it onto the holster on his back. With a hand on the small of her back, he led her into the tower, wilfully ignoring the way that the light in her eyes dimmed.

She let him lead her, it was easier that way- she did not have to think about the months before, simply washing them away in his caring embrace.

Y/N could feel Wanda's eyes follow them as the pair walked past the kitchen and to Steve's room but she refused to waver, keeping her head high and her eyes on the ground.

It would be enough, it had to be enough.

The rain on Jotunheim was unlike anywhere else in the Nine Realms. The freezing temperatures froze the drops as they fell, turning them into crystal clear ice that shattered into millions of tiny pieces as soon as they struck the ground.

The sound had been jarring to Loki at first but after years, it was comforting. A drumming tempo played upon the windows of his isolated cabin, lulling the god into a peaceful trance as he read the same passage over and over again. Normally, he would have been finished with the entire book by now, and the one after that and the one after that but these were not normal circumstances.

He felt his mind failing him, crumbling before him but he had no motivation to even attempt to put it back together. There was truly no point since everything he had worked so hard for was destroyed.

His crown was gone, stripped from him by his father for being a traitor to his own kind. All of his comforts were taken away and burned save for his books and his wedding ring. It was not a sentimental nor a pitying action but a reminder, as his father had told him, of what he had done, of who he had hurt with his selfish actions.

The black metal had been enchanted to remain upon his finger no matter how hard he tried to take it off, not that he had ever even thought about removing it.

And her.

She ran. She was taken. She chose her brother. She didn't know everything.

He loathed her. He loved her.

With a heavy sigh, Loki shut his book. The gold lettering on the leather cover yet again reminding him of what he had so foolishly lost. “To sleep, perchance to dream.” He muttered softly, recalling Hamlet's own strife.

Loki rose to his feet, his body weak. “Perhaps I will dream of her.” The rain never stopped as his eyes slid shut, plunging him into peaceful nothingness.

“Do you ever dream about me?” Her voice was distant, wavering like TV static during a storm.

“Always. You consume my every thought little star.” She scoffed, looking back at him from over her shoulder. Her eyes were shrouded in shadow, her skin so much more dull than he remembered.

“That's bullshit.” She hissed. “It's been months since you last visited. I prayed to you everyday but you never bothered to show up until you wanted something from me.” He glanced down at the necklace in his hands, a promise he wished to form with her.

“I cannot always leave my home, they will get suspicious.” He attempted to make her understand. He stepped closer but she pulled even further away. A tear rolled down her full cheek.

“Yeah, I know.” She turned away from him, fixing her eyes to the growing storm clouds on the horizon. “I need to go home now.”

“Wait-”

“Goodbye Loki.”

The smell of coffee and bacon filled the small kitchen, providing a comforting warmth to Y/N as she stood over the stove, mindlessly cooking breakfast. Her dream was still so vivid in her mind.

It made her chest ache with betrayal and confusion. She had known him, or at least she thought she did, and he had turned into a monster. It was because of him that Hydra had taken her, because of him that she was tortured, because of him that she was forced into a marriage she didn't want that warped her own self view to the point where she couldn't even remember who she was before.

And yet, her heart still yearned for him.

She wanted to cry, to scream, to do something other than becoming some obedient girlfriend to another man who only loved the idea of her. But she did none of that, instead she kept her mouth firmly sewn shut and her hands busy.

“Well this is certainly a good morning, doll.” Strong arms wrapped around her thick waist as Steve laid his chin upon her shoulder. Her smile was soft but it didn't reach her eyes.

“I just wanted to surprise you.” She responded as she flipped the bacon. He squeezed her even tighter and kissed her temple.

“Mmm you spoil me. Maybe tonight, I can spoil you too.” His lips travelled downwards, causing her to sigh as he reached her neck. His palm spread open along her soft stomach and pushed her body further into his own, allowing her to feel his hardening length against her back. “I'll grab some wine and dinner stuff when I finish my run and you can be my dessert.”

Y/N internally cringed but quickly tamped that feeling down. “I would love that Stevie.” She purred, intentionally rocking back into his cock. Steve hissed into her skin, laying one more sloppy kiss to her throat before he pulled himself away from her reluctantly.

“Tease.” He snipped and with a parting squeeze to her hips, he left the kitchen, adjusting his sweatpants as he did.

There was a beat of blissful quiet and then another set of footsteps approached. “How long are you going to continue this?”

“What are you talking about?” She replied to the witch but didn't turn around, knowing that if she did, Y/N's will would crumble. The edges of the bacon curled, turning black as they burned but she didn't pull them off the fire.

Wanda's eyes stared into the back of her skull. “You can pretend all you want but it won't work, you will return to him.”

Anger flared inside her. “Wanda.” She warned, her voice dropping dangerously low. The steel pan handle began to bend in her hold, the metal starting to melt.

“You're bound to him, not just by marriage and the longer you reject that, the longer you and him will suffer. You're already suffering, how long has it been since you used your powers? You're either numb or angry all the time, you're killing yourself! But you can fix all of this, if you just-”

“Enough!” The pan was slammed back onto the stove, its contents now entirely charcoal, smoke steadily rising from it. Y/N snarled at her friend. “What I do or do not do is none of your fucking business and you certainly have no right to tell me to return to a man who blatantly manipulated me just for his own gain. And for once, I would like to make my own fucking decisions and have at least one person fucking support me- god knows my brother doesn't considering that he hasn't talked to me in a week. So either you be my friend or you leave me the fuck alone.”

Blinded by her rage, she stormed from the kitchen, not noticing the way that Wanda smiled knowingly at her, waving off the small cloud of smoke she left behind.

Loki's vision was blurred, coated with sleep that he couldn't quite wipe away. Taking in a laboured breath, the giant turned to lay on his back, easing the growing pain in his limbs.

It had been days since he last left his bed, letting his body and soul rot into the silk sheets he had stolen from the palace. He thought they still smelt of her but as the days continued, he knew that it was only his mind seeking some sort of false comfort as his body slowly began to fail.

Long blue fingers curled into the pillow beside his head as cold tears dripped down his cheeks. “My little star, I am so sorry.”

His eyes shut once more.

Y/N didn't mind Steve's bedroom, it was homey and a little old fashioned but he always kept the ac on and it was tucked away from the rest of the residential rooms so it was quiet. Without the super soldier there with her, she felt like she could breathe given how private it was. But that was not the case at that moment.

Still wound up, she stormed into his room, slamming open the door as he pulled his running bottoms on. “Take those off, you won't need 'em.” Steve easily obeyed, letting his hands drop in favour of grabbing at her, pulling her into a needy kiss.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm ready Steve.” She breathed against his lips and his eyelids fluttered as he let out a deep groan. His head dipped down in favour of lathering her neck with sloppy and uncoordinated kisses that sent the wrong kind of chill down her spine.

She would forget Loki, that's what she was ready for and if Steve could accomplish that, he deserved to take what he wanted.

“I can't believe this is actually happening.” Steve's voice vibrated through her skin as his hands clamped down onto her hips, keeping her in place against him. Her head was tilted back, eyes shut and lips parted with her soft breaths.

She couldn't believe it either but she wouldn't say that out loud, instead, she sank into his arms letting him feel the expanse of her body against his.

His hands slipped down to her ass, holding the flesh slightly too tight as he bit down on her neck. She winced but swallowed it down, happy enough for the distraction. That ache in her chest had yet to dissipate, in fact only becoming stronger with each passing moment.

“Steve.” She forced the moan from her throat, just barely biting back the name that constantly sat on the tip of her tongue. He responded with a roll of his hips.

She let his touch wander beneath her shirt. This was normal, it was expected. Boy meets girl, girl and boy get crushes on each other, they kiss, then they sleep together. That was the natural order but everything about this felt so wrong. All she could think about was him: about the mark that he left on her soul, the ring he had put on her finger, the promises he made to her.

Just as her doubts began to take priority on her mind, she was suddenly bare before the super soldier, her shirt dropped unceremoniously to the floor and everything stopped.

Steve's blue eyes went wide as he took in her naked torso but not out of lust. “What did he do to you?”

“It wasn't-” She tried to get out but was quickly cut off by Steve grabbing her hips in a vice-like grip but somehow not touching any part of her scar.

“That fucking monster, look what he's done to you.” He scoffed in disgust. “We'll make him pay, I promise. We- we can fix this, you can go back to normal, I promise.”

“Excuse me?” It took barely a flick of her wrist to push the man away, sending him sprawling onto the floor of his bedroom, his face now fixed with a look of bewilderment. “Fix me?”

The air began to shimmer around her as her anger once more made an appearance. The floorboards groaned as Steve rose to his feet, his stature was supposed to be imposing she thought but she could only see a boy attempting to throw his weight around.

“I can help you, I'll help you forget him and we can properly go back to the way things were.” His voice was so full of pity that it sounded disingenuous.

“Like getting rid of my powers?”

“Yes!” He said before he could stop himself.

Everything froze in that moment and for a second, Y/N found herself tempted to agree with him, to let him strip away everything that had happened to her over the past 7 months. But then, Steve spoke again.

“Don't you want that? We can be together, like we're supposed to.” He reached out for her but she flinched away, her hand automatically reaching for her necklace. His nostrils flared.

“This is what's best for you.” He snarled but it wasn't Steve's voice that echoed that same phrase in her mind.

The regret set in almost instantly from the moment she turned her back on Loki but he had broken her heart and her trust. The tears started as soon as she stepped through her front door.

“Oh my sweet girl.” She collapsed into her mother's arms, sobbing loudly and staining her shirt with hot tears. Her mother cooed, rocking her gently as she attempted to comfort her heartbroken daughter. She held her close, even as the storm closed in on their small home and the light of day gave way to the blackness of night.

It was only when she finally fell asleep, exhausted and burnt out, that her mother let her go, gently laying her on their small but plush couch to sleep away her tears.

Lightning flashed across the sky, lighting up the living room in a bright white. A huge clap of thunder startled her awake as it shook the house. Slowly, she sat up, rubbing at her sore eyes while attempting to get her bearings.

Her stomach turned with anxiety as she looked around the shadowy room, unable to make out any defined shapes in the darkness. “Hello?” She croaked out but nothing changed.

Just as she sighed and laid back down on the soft cushions beneath her, the room lit up once more, revealing a man standing in the corner by the window. Then darkness consumed them once more.

Frozen in fear, she could only stare, wide-eyed, at the place she saw the man, hoping that it was just some figment of her tired mind. The thunder that followed was more distant than before, a mere groan as opposed to the roar it had been only seconds before.

Then, lightning struck once more and the man was standing beside her head. He was tall and had all white hair but what caught her attention the most was a golden eyepatch that perfectly reflected the powerful storm outside.

Her jaw dropped, about to scream but a huge palm over her mouth forced her to remain silent, effectively muffling any sound she could make. “Stay silent child, this will be quick.”

With his free hand, he reached into a small bag that was tied to his hip and pulled out a small vial half-filled with a dark liquid. “You have become a nuisance, a distraction and I will not have you disrupt my plans.” The hand over her mouth then darted to her jaw, forcing her lips apart with a bruising force.

“You will forget him and he will forget you.” The liquid was vile as it touched her tongue and she attempted to squirm away but the teen was no match for this man and the foul concoction was forced down her throat.

As soon as the glass container was empty, he released her. She sagged back down, her eyelids suddenly weighing a tonne as the man stepped back, slipping back into the shadows. Her memories of the boy she loved, slipping through her fingers like sand, tumbling away into nothing. “You will thank me for this one day. This is what's best for you.”

Y/N stumbled back, her hands flying to cradle her head as if it could ease the painful migraine overwhelming her senses. The room spun and she struggled to catch her breath. Everything, she could remember everything.

“It wasn't his fault.” She whispered in shock. Her eyes fluttered open to meet Steve's gaze, pinning him in place with a glare. “I did this to myself. I had no control over my powers and I was foolish enough to literally play with fire with no one around to put me out. Loki saved me, not only from Hydra but from myself and he did it long before I even met you.”

“You have never once bothered to ask me what would make me feel better, only assuming that you were the solution to all my problems- that your love,” she hissed this last word, “could somehow cure me of who I've become. And I'm fucking sick of it. I've tried this my way- training and constantly forcing myself to relive my worst moments, I've done this your way- pressing all my emotions into a tiny little box so I'm just a doll that can be kept locked away for your enjoyment. Maybe it's time I try my husband's way. And that's right, Loki is my husband and will remain to be until the end of our days.”

“Y/N-” Steve tried to stop her but quickly retreated, the heat radiating from her skin far too hot for him to endure.

She scooped up her shirt and slipped it back on, the special fibres created by Tony withstanding the flames threatening to burst from her, and looked at the soldier with pity. “Thor told me that Loki was an oddity, a strange man but he was no monster. I should have listened to him, I should have told him to bring me back to Jotunheim the moment I found out who he really was but I didn't, instead I squeezed myself back into a roll I outgrew months ago. I regret that the most, that I turned my back on the one person who could possibly understand my pain. Hopefully, there's time to make this right.”

Her steps from his room were slow at first, shaky with her nerves but with each muffled thud of her bare feet meeting the floor, her confidence grew. Embers flew behind her as she began to run, gunning right for the front door.

FRIDAY chirped from somewhere behind her, yet she continued to run, her smile growing wider the closer she got to the outside.

“Stop!” Tony slid in front of the door, his chest heaving with laboured breaths. Y/N slid to a halt a metre away from him, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. “I can't let you go.” He practically begged.

“I have to.” But he shook his head. “Tony.”

“No. I cannot lose you again. I'll- I'll build you a huge building so you can destroy it, I'll engineer some kind of robot boyfriend that'll obey your every command, it worked with Wanda! Just please, don't go.” He sounded so tired, so worn down and unlike himself, it made her chest seize for a moment.

She stepped closer, the fire inside dulling enough that she could touch him without hurting him. “You have done so much for me Tony. You've become the grumpy father I never wanted and I don't think there's any way that I can repay you.”

“You could stay here.” She smiled sadly, placing a hand on his chest. The low hum of the arc reactor sent a soft vibration up her forearm.

“I need to know who I am and I can't do that here. I can't do that surrounded by people who only see me as that innocent assistant who could do no wrong. I know you may not like it, but Loki is my way back and I have to follow that path.”

Sighing heavily, Tony's shoulders sagged. “You know I hate admitting that other people are right.” He murmured.

“So I won't make you say it. But you need to trust me, I'll come back. I still need my healthy diet of burgers and trashy TV.” His breath hitched before he pulled her into a fierce hug and then quickly let her go, swallowing back his tears as best he could.

“If he so much as looks at you wrong-”

“I know, I know. He'll have me to deal with.” She smirked, making Tony beam.

“That's my girl.” He stepped aside, albeit with some hesitance, to let her pass. The doors opened to her and with one last look at the man she had come to see as a father, she ran outside.

“Heimdall! Take me to Loki!” The last thing Tony saw of her was her bright smile as the rainbow light enclosed around her body, taking her to a place he could not follow.

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Chapter 4 (N.SFW)

➣ Pairing: Demon brothers, Royals, Solomon with fem!Reader. ➣ Warning: N.SFW ➣ Word Count: 3,366 ➣ Chapters [SFW]: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12] ➣ Chapters [N.SFW]: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12]

➣ A/N: I was very tired - so tired that I almost accidentally deleted the entire draft - when I wrote this, so hopefully, it turned out well. 😅

———————————————

The faintest morning light filtered through the window blinds, but you lay awake in bed. Unable to fall asleep again, you got ready and quietly went downstairs, trying to keep the wooden floorboards creaking to a minimum, to find the living area empty. Someone had turned the fireplace off, but the early winter chill on the first level was rather refreshing. 'Hm? Is that...?' Through one of the windows, you noticed Satan pacing back and forth a short distance from the cabin.

The sky above the cabin was painted a brilliant orange as the sun slowly rose from behind the snowy mountains, casting long shadows as it ascended the sky. Satan's hair was illuminated by the sun's rays, giving it the appearance of a crown on his head. His skin was red, and his face was contorted with anger, as though he could not escape the freezing temperatures' bitter chill.

"Good morning, Satan. What's wrong?" You worriedly asked, but when he didn't reply, you continued. "You shouldn't stay out too long."

"Demons are far more powerful than frail humans," he rasped, his tone harsher than he meant, making you wince. It was unusual for him to behave that way with you, so something unexpected must have happened.

The fourth brother sighed after realizing he had taken his anger for his brother out on you. "My apologies, (y/n). After you and Beel left yesterday, Lucifer forced me to shift into his bedroom. It's bad enough that I have to live under the same roof as him, but now, I have to share a room."

"It's okay, Satan. Why did Lucifer force you to move?" You asked curiously but knew the first brother's actions always had a meaning behind them.

"Diavolo had no issues staying with Lucifer, but Barbatos said it would be better for him to stay with his royal highness," Satan fumed. "So, Lucifer asked me to vacate my room. I asked the others if they would switch with me, and Solomon only agreed. But, of course, Lucifer intervened."

The Avatar of Wrath faced you, folded his arms across his chest, and mimicked his older brother's voice. "I refuse to share a room with Solomon. His mere presence gives me a headache."

His impersonation made you chuckle, but there had to be a viable solution to his situation. "Do you want to take my room? I don't mind sharing a room with Lucifer."

"Absolutely not!" He exclaimed, eliciting a laugh from you. You expected that reaction from him but thought to ask anyway. Who were you kidding? You just wanted to see Satan's reaction to you rooming with the Avatar of Pride.

"Then, why don't you find a common ground with Lucifer? That way, you can enjoy spending time with him." You suggested in hopes that he would give in to your request. Once your words settled in his mind, Satan's face lit up. The dark aura of despair hovering around him gave way to one filled with excitement, and his arms tightly coiled around your frame.

"That's it! (Y/n), you are a genius."

"Thank you?" You mumbled, baffled by his sudden enthusiasm. "But what do you plan to do?"

"Since Lucifer can't get away from me, this is the perfect opportunity to prank him. Endlessly." He grinned and released you from his grip. Without waiting for your response, Satan powerwalked to the main door of the cabin, leaving you screaming in the background. "W-Wait! Satan, that's not what I meant."

You sighed heavily and slumped your shoulders, mumbling to yourself. "That was not what I meant, Satan. Sorry, Lucifer. I think I just made your problem worse. I will be in deep waters if Lucifer learns about this conversation."

"Good morning, (y/n). Would you kindly repeat what you said?" Barbatos whispered behind you. His sudden appearance startled you and left you wondering how he managed to stealthily approach you without emitting even a single crunch of the snow underfoot. The small curls on the corners of his lips seemed to indicate that he had knowledge of the occurrences before his appearance.

"Satan doesn't want to stay with Lucifer, and I tried to tell him to find common ground so he could enjoy his time with his older brother. But Satan interpreted that as 'prank Lucifer endlessly'," you exhaled loudly through your mouth. "If Lucifer finds out about this, I will be in trouble."

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Solomon stood near a window inside the cabin, sipping tea from a mug, and expressionlessly peered at you. Barbatos chuckled at your unfounded concern but remained silent. His dark emerald eyes analyzed every aspect of your demeanor, although his expression betrayed nothing of his thoughts or feelings. He seemed to be gauging your discomfort around him, which further heightened your unease.

"What reason could you possibly have for your discomfort?"

His direct inquiry caught you off guard, but you saw no point in concealing the truth from him as you knew he would see through your lies. You mumbled your response, your gaze fixed on your white boots layered with fresh snow, "Lucifer might have caught on. I am worried, Barbatos."

"Do not worry needlessly, (y/n)," he reassured. "Now, my dear, I implore you to return to the cabin. The weather is frigid, and I would rather you not fall ill."

"You can go ahead, and I will join you in a few minutes. I need some fresh air to clear my thoughts." You dully said.

"As you wish, but do not take longer than necessary. Then, I shall take my leave," Barbatos warmly smiled, and to your surprise, his smile reached his eyes. Was this the first time you saw his genuine smile? You couldn't remember but felt happy nevertheless.

After a while, you took his advice and headed back, only to see Mammon sneakily approaching the main door with an object hidden in his hand behind his back. Although you attempted to discern the words on the folded stack of black and blue packets, Mammon thwarted your efforts and slid them inside his jacket's pocket.

"Mammon, what are you doing?" You asked, suspecting he was up to no good. As you expected, he was startled by your presence but managed to give you a nervous smile. He was definitely up to no good, but you hoped his ill intention would not result in Lucifer severely punishing him.

"I ain't doin' anythin', and before ya ask, I'm sneakin' in 'cause I'm tryin' to avoid...Solomon," he laughed. "Are ya hungry? 'Cause I'm starvin'. Let's get breakfast!"

With those words, Mammon ran into the cabin, avoiding any other question you might have had for him. You shook your head, but before you could enter, Solomon blocked your path. "Are you alright, (y/n)? You seemed troubled."

It was evident that the sorcerer suspected you were hiding a secret and sought to hear it directly from you. Given the potential ramifications of divulging the truth, specifically with respect to Lucifer, you promptly shook your head. "It's nothing. I've to get ready to go shopping with Levi, so excuse me."

As his eyes followed you, Solomon smiled to himself. What were you hiding from him, and why were you nervous around Barbatos? But the most crucial question was: should he pry into the matter or leave it alone?

"Don't be nervous, Levi. There aren't many people around this time of the day," you chuckled and squeezed his hand slightly. Levi said nothing as he scanned the colorful store you had brought him to.

Every rack and shelf had an array of Christmas clothes in all shapes, sizes, and colors. The walls were adorned with tinsel, mistletoes, snowflake cutouts, and wreaths, creating a festive atmosphere that filled you with a sense of joy and excitement. However, the endless wave of bright colors made your eyes water. In the front right corner of the store stood a teenager with her caramel eyes glued on her phone, utterly oblivious to her surroundings. The loud music blasting from her earphones made it clear that she was lost in her own world. Not paying heed to her lack of awareness, you made your way to the center of the store.

"Hey, Levi, is this festive enough?" You asked while holding a hanger up to your shoulders. The sweater on the hanger had a multitude of colors and clashing patterns, with green reindeer and snowflakes scattered throughout.

"It looks like you purchased an entire Christmas store and glued it to the sweater. Then, found a unicorn and asked it to hurl sparkles on it. But that still wasn't enough for you, so you wrapped the sweater in green and red tinsel garland," Levi laughed.

"Descriptive," you giggled. "So, what do you think about buying ugly sweaters for everyone?"

"No way that Lucifer, Satan, Asmo, and Barbatos would wear them," Levi responded as he looked through the rack of sweaters closest to him until one caught his attention. The green sweater had an upside-down realistic pizza slice with green tinsel garland wrapped around it and a star on top. "Beel would like this and probably try to eat it."

"Oh, that's perfect of him! Then, why don't we change the theme from ugly sweaters to witty or relatable sweaters?" You smiled, proud of your quick thinking, to which he readily agreed.

The first red and green sweater you found was ideal for Asmo. The main body of the wear was a creative nod to the holiday season, playing with the idea of being on the nice or naughty list. The words "On the Nice List" were printed in large white letters, but 'Nice' was spelled in white sequins with a black background. But with one sweep of your hand, the sequins flipped to the word 'Naughty', reminding you of Asmo's playful nature.

When you showed Levi your choice, he could not stop fiddling with the sequins, fascinated by their ability to change with one touch. As he giddily flipped back and forth between nice and naughty, you found a mustard yellow sweater fitted for Belphagor. In the center was a sloth clad in a vibrant red sweater with a matching Santa hat as it dozed off on a snow-covered branch adorned with Christmas lights. The sloth's arms were intertwined in a position of contentment as the words Merry Slothmas hovered above and below in vermillion. The remainder of the empty place was adorned with deep blue Christmas trees and snowflakes and green ornaments with red swirls.

"(Y/n) look at this. Doesn't he remind you of Lucifer?" Levi laughed, holding a crimson sweater up for you. This dark red sweatshirt was accented with a black rectangular shape, which extended to the sleeves. Within the rectangular shape was a backdrop of vibrant Christmas string lights, adding a pop of color to the mostly dark outfit. In the center, the words "Is this jolly enough?" were written in the shape of a Christmas tree. With his grumpy expression, the Grinch stood beside it with a cup of coffee in his hand, wrapped in string lights, and a red Santa hat on his head.

"Lucifer as the Grinch," you whispered while imagining Lucifer as the grouch in your favorite part of the classic movie. Somehow, the Grinch's expression reminded you of the stern first brother, making you laugh. "It's perfect! I bet this is what he will look like on Christmas morning."

Your next targets were the prince and his butler. You selected a fiery crimson sweatshirt for Diavolo with white pine trees, snowflakes, and candy canes printed on it. In front of the festive designs was a vibrant green frustrated T-Rex with a Santa cap, gazing at gifts that lay beyond his stubby reach. His tiny arms tried to grasp the presents, while "T-Rex Hates Christmas" was painted upon the sweatshirt in striking white. Luckily, a sweatshirt ideal for Barbatos hung beside Diavolo's - even their sweatshirts came in a pair. Compared to the prince's, the butler's wear was far simpler - a ketchup-colored sweatshirt with random festive patterns and words in white that read "I Can Get You On The Naughty List."

As you turned around to place the sweatshirts on your 'selected' pile, you noticed a small opening in the back of the store leading to a smaller room. With a bit of caution, you approached the area and stepped inside, instantly turning crimson-faced at the scene you beheld. Though the room's tone didn't quite fit the wholesome and family-friendly atmosphere of the store, you ventured further in regardless.

One particularly explicit piece caught your attention, and though you were uncomfortable, you couldn't look away. The emerald green sweatshirt had an image of an upwards penis on it, but only the bottom of the shaft and balls were visible. The upper half of the length was missing, indicating the wearer of the sweatshirt was a dick. On cue, Leviathan entered the room and followed your gaze to the sweater. He instantly jumped back and averted his gaze as his face turned a deep shade of scarlet. What had he walked into, and why were you here?

A playful smirk appeared on your lips when you saw his red cheeks. Noticing another risque sweater, you picked up the hanger and held it in front of you. The cloth had a hole near the chest, and out peeked a plastic boob with a carrot nose on the nipple and googly eyes on top.

"Oh, Levi," you mischievously smiled, and the second he glanced in your direction, you gently pressed your hand on the plastic breast and fondled it. The color of Levi's face could have put a tomato to shame, but he managed to pry his eyes from you. Unfortunately for him, his gaze landed on a sweater with the words "Kiss Under the Mistletoe" with a mistletoe hanging near the hip area of the fabric.

The image of him wearing the sweatshirt as you kneeled down in front of him plagued his mind, but he frantically shook his head to stop his mind from imagining anything further. 'Bad Levi. No, no, no. Don't go there.' His poor heart could not take any more teasing, so the demon turned on his heels and hurried back to the family-friendly area. Unknown to him, a devilish grin tugged on your lips.

Trying to distance himself from the heart-failing events that transpired, Levi's eyes darted from one sweater to another, but his breath remained shallow. In his peripheral vision, he spotted a cat and instantly selected the apparel for Satan. The dark green sweater was decorated with white stripes and a mix of red and green snowflakes across the sleeves. In the center was an image of a perpetually grumpy cat sitting in front of a red ornament, wearing a Santa hat. The words "Jingle All The Way To Hell" were inscribed in white above and below the image.

You walked behind Levi and chuckled at the grumpy cat, recalling how Satan looked while fuming earlier in the day. Ignoring Leviathan's quizzical look, as you didn't want to upset Satan but telling Levi his issues, you searched for the perfect sweaters for Mammon and Solomon. Even though the two of you had been in the store for a while, the teen cashier had yet to notice your presence.

The black sweatshirt you selected for Mammon had a rectangle bordered by a frame of vibrant red presents and green snowflakes. Within the frame were three green checkboxes, each with a distinct white typography. The first checkbox read "Nice," the second "Naughty," and the third "Innocent until proven guilty." A red checkmark was placed neatly inside the third checkbox. Contrasting Mammon's sweatshirt was Solomon's bright red sweater that had the words "Permanently On The Naughty List And Loving Every Minute Of It" in bold white letters.

With a sigh of relief, you sat the last sweater on your selected pile and scanned the store to find Levi. Who knew finding the perfect Christmas sweater could be this exhausting? He stood in the game-related Christmas sweaters section in hopes of finding one for him and you. But you beat him to it and handed him a dark blue sweater with colorful crewmates chaotically standing in the center and "Christmas is Among Us" written below them. "How about this one?"

"Then, will you wear this one?" Levi shyly asked as he showed you a pine green sweater with Pikachu happily sitting in the center, a heart above its head, and the words "All I Want For Christmas Is...CHUUU!!!" below and above the adorable Pokemon.

Your face grew warm as a light, rosy flush graced your cheeks. Leaning close to his face, you playfully brought your lips to his ears and whispered, "Let me try this on to make sure it fits."

The moment your warm breath caressed his ear, the air charged with anticipation. Your breath caused goosebumps to erupt on his skin while his pulse quickened at the thought of something more. He could only nod slightly as his eyes followed you to the changing room. But why were you going to the changing room in the dizzying part of the store? Feeling an unexplainable tug, he slowly dragged his feet toward the adult-themed section but kept his eyes on the walls, away from the explicit sweaters. His pants were still slightly tight from your teasing, and he didn't need them to get any tighter.

Every minute he waited for you felt like an eternity and only increased his temptation to peer at the sweaters to his left. Images of you caressing the plastic boob and kneeling in front of him to kiss under the mistletoe flashed before his eyes, but the demon forced himself to keep his thoughts clear. If his mind had an undo or erase button, Levi would have repeatedly slammed it.

"(Y/n), are you done yet?" He quietly asked and knocked on the changing room's door. No response. "(Y/n)? Are you okay?" His nervousness grew as he knocked louder a few more times.

In a panic, the Avatar of Envy flung the door open but froze when he saw you in front of the mirror with a mischievous smile. Though your back was turned to him, Levi saw the words on your sweater in the mirror's reflection: "Joy to the Touch." White gloves were painted over the dark blue fabric over your breasts as if fondling them. Heat surged through his body at the unwanted thoughts snuck into his mind once more.

"What are you waiting for, Levi?" You deliberately spoke in a slow and sultry voice, knowing you had successfully hit the hammer on the nail.

The demon closed the door and wrapped his arms around you from behind, yet he gave no kiss, nor did he whisper sweet nothings; instead, he buried his face in the curve of your neck with a frustrated groan. You suppressed your urge to laugh and took the lead, guiding his hands to your chest over the white gloves on the sweaters.

As he felt the softness of your mounds through the fabric, Levi pressed his heated face deeper into your skin, the feeling enough to send a jolt of passion through your body. His hands slowly released your mounds and slid down inch by inch to sneak beneath your sweater and bra, prompting a soft sigh to escape your parted lips.

"Hmm, Levi. I have waited for this for a long time," you purred.

Though he didn't reply, his trembling hands gently kneaded your supple curves and pinched your perked buds. You leaned back into him and closed your eyes, holding back the moans bubbling in your throat. Your mind was filled with thoughts of Levi hovering over you, his hips bucking against yours as you dug your nails into his flesh. You needed more. You needed him.

"Why don't we go somewhere more private and finish what we started?"

Levi was filled with desire as he saw the way your lips curved into a naughty grin. Your words sent a shiver up his spine, and he let out a lustful moan in response.

———————————————

➣  Please visit my website for the full masterlist!

[missbubblesoda]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (15)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 5.5k

You pushed the hardwood door carefully, just enough to allow yourself in. But, contrary to what you had expected, he wasn’t sitting at his desk.

Your eyes scanned the office, completely engulfed in darkness, and figured it must be very early in the morning. At this time, there was only one place he could be.

You headed for the door that led to his room and pushed it open slowly, careful not to make it creak more than necessary. You assumed he wouldn’t mind you inviting yourself into his personal space. You had been there before, not too long ago.

But he wasn’t there either.

Surprisingly.

The moonlight, sneaking in through the crystal windows, made the white sheets of his bed glow, and provided the only source of light in his cold, empty room. Cold. Why is it this cold? Your eyes instinctively traveled to the fireplace. He must have forgotten to light it on. It’s going to be freezing when he comes back. You thought. Because, maybe it wasn’t that early in the morning, after all. Maybe it was very late into the night, and he was yet to come back from wherever he had gone for the day.

You stood in the middle of the empty room. Waiting for something to happen. Anchored in place by the tightness pounding in your chest. Maybe it was the excitement you felt at the thought of seeing him again.

No. It was something else.

You turned your attention to the bookshelves, where he kept his journals, and scanned their spines as if searching for something. You knew what you were looking for, but you didn’t know how it looked. If that made sense.

There was a growing pit in your stomach. Maybe it was the anticipation you felt at the thought of being held in those strong, well-muscled arms once again.

No. It was something else.

Your painfully parched throat told you so. And your fingers, trembling as they reached for the small notebook lying forgotten on his bed, reminded you that you probably shouldn’t read what was clearly not written for you. Because that name, the one his impeccable handwriting was spelling on the first page, it wasn’t yours. It was the name of a woman, yes, but that woman was not you. And the more you stared, the more frustrated you grew, because the thing is, you actually didn’t know how to read this name. In fact, you didn’t even know what language it was. Oddly enough, you were certain it was a female name. Ilsa? Stella? Frida? Marie? It really didn’t matter. Did it?

You glanced over your shoulder in the direction of the door, the same way stray cats do before crossing the street. Your heart was beating in a forbidden way, while a dangerous cocktail of adrenaline and curiosity was influencing all your decisions. You stared at the notebook you held in your hands, and realized it was a twin of the black one he kept with him at all times. There was something about this one, however. It was thicker.

More tempting.

With hesitant fingers, and painful apprehension digging a hole in your chest, you finally turned the page. And, as soon as you read the first sentences, you understood it: you understood that it was her.

It must be her.

The one he was talking about in these entries.

Your vision started to get blurry, and, although you weren’t able understand all the sentences he had written, you understood enough.

‘…wonder what it would be like today.’

‘…thought I saw you the other day’ and

‘will never love another…’

It was exasperating, torturous even, to only understand pieces. The rest of the sentences were in a foreign language you had never seen in your life. The same language her name was written in.

“What are you doing?” A familiar, flat voice startled your heart out of rhythm.

You looked back, surprised to see Captain Levi standing in the doorway.

“I asked you a question.” His eyes traveled to the small notebook you held in your trembling hands, and then back to your face. “Stop crying, brat. You’re going to ruin the pages.”

Crying? You slowly lifted a hand to your face, and traced the wet trails running down your cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” Captain Levi asked.

“That’s what she usually does.” Another familiar voice, deeper than the Captain’s, could be heard approaching from the Commander’s office. “She doesn’t know better than to cry when she’s overwhelmed.” A wrinkled face, one you were fairly acquainted with, finally revealed itself. “I told you, that little habit of yours… that’s the one titans find particularly appetizing. Compose yourself!”

Instructor Shadis? What was he-

“Actually, I don’t care why you’re crying. Let’s get out of here before Erwin kicks us all out.” Captain Levi looked just as displeased as always.

“Where is the Commander?” You asked timidly, fearing you might get yelled at.

“He said he will be here by morning.” But this time it was Shadis the one to reply.

Morning? You looked at the windows, and squinted your eyes at how bright it was outside. Noon-bright. When had it gotten like that? Your eyes hurt. And the light was so intense it forced you to close them… until you couldn’t see anything anymore…

“He will be here in a few hours.” Your mother opened the curtains, welcoming the early morning sunlight into the room. Relief also found its way in through the crystal windows, as you realized this was your bedroom, not the Commander’s office, and that you hadn’t actually breached his trust by reading his private journals. You’d like to think the real you would never do such thing. She could still pride herself on the fact that she knew better. Better than to pry into other people’s private affairs.

And most importantly, you were glad. Glad you didn’t find a journal dedicated to her in the Commander’s room. If there was such thing after all, you were happy to never confirm its existence. Delighted to live in blissful ignorance forever. Or at least for as long as you could.

As you curled into a ball, blanket pulled all the way up to your chin, you stared at your mother, who was now lighting the fireplace, and basked in the relief you felt that it was just her, and not actually Captain Levi or Instructor Shadis. That would be awkward.

“Goodness. How were you able to sleep without the fire? It was freezing last night.” You smiled at her through heavy eyelids. You missed the base, that was true, but you couldn’t deny that it was nice to be back home, under the warm care of your mother. It was nice to-

Wait.

Who will be here in a few hours?

-

“I’m not interested.”

“Well, he clearly is. Otherwise he wouldn’t be coming all the way here just to see you.”

“I didn’t even know his name until literally five minutes ago. So no, Mother, I’m definitely not interested in meeting him.” You said as you added an immoderate spoonful of honey to your orange juice. “It’s a shame he’s spending his time and resources traveling all the way here.”

“I agree, so could you please just give him an opportunity?”

“Mother, this conversation is not helping my headache.”

“Headache?”

“I had a bad dream last night.” You explained, as you sat at the breakfast table.

“It’s not because of that. It’s because you forgot to light on the fireplace last night. You’re catching a cold.” She replaced the glass of orange juice you had just prepared, with a steaming cup of something that smelled delicious. “As I was saying, I know he’ll grow on you, like he did on your father.” Your mother also placed a bowl of peeled tangerines next to the bread basket. “Have these, I just sliced them. They’re as sweet as you like them. You’ll like him if you meet him.”

“Thank you.” You said, reaching for the bowl of fresh fruit. “I disagree, Mother. He may be nice, I believe you on that. Goodness. These are exceptional! Thank you.” You admitted, mouth completely stuffed, but fingers already reaching for the next slice regardless. “Anyway, where were we? Oh right! You can be sure I won’t be marrying him anytime soon.” You took a sip of the tea your mother had prepared for you, and closed your eyes as it warmed your insides, thinking about how much you wished to excel at something the way she did in the kitchen. “Or far, for that matter.”

No matter what this man your parents had invited for lunch looked or talked like, you knew you wouldn’t fall for him. And you said this with all the confidence and conviction a person’s heart was able to house. It was not impossible for this gentleman to be every bit as charming and good-looking as your mother had described, he could be all that and more, but you knew it was physically impossible for him to ‘grow’ on you, regardless. Not when there was no space available. Because, the thing is, someone else had already started setting roots on the land where that type of feelings were supposed to grow.

“Who’s even talking about marriage?” Your mother sighed as if she had just heard the most outrageous of ideas. “Honey, you don’t have to choose him if he’s not the right one. You don’t even have to look at marriage today if that’s not what you want. Just think of him as a new friend.” But? You knew there was more to it. “But, unless you are planning to stay single forever, you are going to have to go through this at some point or another. Sooner or later. That is a fact. Are we on the same page?” You nodded, mouth still full of tangerine slices. “And, look at you, you’ve already blossomed into womanhood!” The emphasis your mother placed on that last sentence made it sound as if it had happened just yesterday. “Isn’t it better to go through all this process now? While you’re young and have plenty of charm, as well as the attention of such a respectable, young man?”

Your mom sat on the chair beside yours, and remained silent as she watched you spread butter on your toast. But, after a few minutes, she sighed. And the gentle, warm hand she placed on your shoulder told you that you were about to get to the part where she explained why this meeting was so important to her.

“Honey, I think it’s time you start thinking about this part of your future too. It needs some of that attention.” She spoke softly, although there was audible worry and desperation in her voice. “Just a little of that attention you give to that professional side of yours, which, don’t get me wrong!” She rushed to add. “I understand that too, and I’m happy that you have a job you feel so passionate about. Your father and I, although scared, are very proud of you. You look so healthy and happy for someone who is in the Survey Corps.” You chuckled, remembering how many letters you had to write to your parents after you told them you had joined the scouts. You had lost count of how many weeks you spent trying to calm and reassure them, trying to convince them that you weren’t suicidal in any shape or form.

“But I’m just worried. I worry about you, honey. Everyday. Not only because of the dangers of your line of work, but also because, once you go back to the base and seclude yourself down there for another year, your chances of meeting someone…” She paused and looked at your plate, as if asking the bread if the words she was about to say were the right ones. “Your chances of meeting the right one, will decrease dramatically. And although it may seem like I’m forcing this situation on you, I promise you that is not my intention. At the end of the day, the choice is yours. You can sit around and wait until the right one comes, or you can start taking steps to meet him.”

While you appreciated your mother’s words and her sincere concerns about your future, you would certainly appreciate it more if she hadn’t arranged this meeting in the first place. But, although you weren’t excited at all about spending your Sunday afternoon faking smiles to please some random stranger while he bragged about the country estate he had just acquired, you knew your mother meant well. And, you also knew that, regardless of this man’s looks, wealth, or personality, this meeting was not leading anywhere, at least not anywhere near the destination your mother had in mind. Plus, he was already coming anyway, and nothing you said would stop this lunch from happening. So, all things considered, you rolled your eyes and sighed one more time before giving a reluctant nod to your mother.

“Who is this Lord Angert again?”

-

When his lips met the back of your hand and his forest green eyes looked up to meet yours, you had a déjà vu. When he handed you the box of figs he had so kindly brought for you, you also had a déjà vu. You had the exact same tin box in your night stand back at the base.

And when a bitter gust of wind carried in the familiar smell of climbing hydrangeas, you couldn’t help but travel back in time, to that chilly night last fall. Back then, however, the scent of the flowers was saturated with addictive, musky notes, and soaked in the smell of frost. Now, the air was infused with lemon and cinnamon, as well as the smoky smell left by the midday sun as it tried to warm up the pavement.

That night, the hair had been blonde, not hazel. Oh, and your heart, your heart had been threatening to break your ribcage. But now, it seemed to be sleeping soundly inside your chest.

“Thank you for accepting to meet me in such short notice, my lady.”

“Thank you for coming all the way here, my lord.” You smiled politely at the tall, fair-skinned man you had in front of you. He was surprisingly young. You had been expecting someone a little older, who looked and acted like those you had met at the ball, since your mother said that was where you had ‘charmed’ this man. But so far, at least on the outside, Lord Angert seemed to be nothing like that.

“You might not remember me, so I’ll introduce myself again.” You realized the color of his voice, as well as the way his luscious wavy hair excitedly danced with the wind, were the main factors contributing to his youthful appearance. He could be your age. Or even younger. And you really didn’t remember seeing anyone like that at the party. “Leon Angert, at your service.” He smiled and his eyes adopted the shape of crescent moons.

“Have we met before, my lord?”

He let out chuckle that could only be described as refreshing, one that let you know he already suspected you wouldn’t remember him, and then said: “We did. The night of the charity ball. We were introduced by my uncle, Lord Koch. Well, actually my uncle introduced me to Commander Erwin Smith of the Survey Corps, and you were with him, so yes, I guess we met by association.”

You found his response quite amusing. What did that even mean? Didn’t everyone meet by association? You looked down at the tin box you held in your hands, trying to buy yourself some time while you browsed through your recollections of that night, seeing if you could find something. But it was no use, all you could remember was the Commander, his face, his tuxedo, his scent, his voice, and his touch. Especially his touch. Because even though he was now miles away, your lower back still tickled from where his fingertips had left their lingering mark that night.

“It’s okay to not remember. I’m not known for leaving lasting impressions.” Lord Angert said, and you felt sorry for the man. It wasn’t his fault. You were sure you would have remembered him if it wasn’t because all your attention had been monopolized by the man whose arm you had been holding onto the entire evening. Every single memory you had of that fall night was about him, and what he did, what he said to you, where he touched you. If it made Lord Angert feel any better, you didn’t remember anyone else from that party either. Save Lord Wald. But that was because of entirely different reasons, reasons you were trying to forget about.

“Well, it’s nice to formally meet you. Again.” You gave the man a friendly smile, trying to warm him from the freezing weather. And speaking about that, “Please come in, my family is waiting for you inside.”

As you guided him to the sunroom, you couldn’t help but notice how your footsteps felt way less heavy than you remembered they were when you went to open the door for him. At least at first glance, Lord Angert was nothing like you had imagined. You had braced yourself for dealing with some presumptuous guy, but the fact that he seemed to be decently kind and basic-mannered made the prospect of this afternoon look slightly more bearable. And you snorted to yourself, thinking about all the unnecessary drama your overthinking always put you through. You did have a tendency to catastrophize, after all. Your parents would never set up their daughter with the likes of Lord Wald. Would they?

And you were right. You had to admit that, even a couple hours later, this little reunion was going better than expected. It didn’t feel like an awkward date. It was more like a Sunday gathering with a cousin or a family friend. In addition, what your mother had said earlier was completely true, your father really liked Lord Angert. They had been engaging in a lengthy, animated, and quite interesting, conversation about mysterious, seedless pumpkins, and you were happy to be able to just sit back, listen, and enjoy your mother’s cooking.

“How’s Hansel?” Your father asked after he had grown tired of so much vegetable talk.

“Pretty good. He’s been quite busy supervising the training of the foals.”

“Training? That early?”

Lord Angert nodded as he took a sip of spiced wine. “The earlier you start training, the earlier you’ll see results. And, even as advanced adults, they will be sharper and more quick-witted than those who start training after two years, which is the standard.”

“Pretty interesting stuff.” Your father concluded, scratching his chin.

“That’s the secret to make the animals age exuberantly. I actually came to Mitras to supervise the acclimation of the yearlings we sold to the Military Police last month.”

So he hadn’t come just to see you as your mother had implied. For some reason, knowing that you weren’t the only reason he came to the capital made you feel very relieved and light.

“What breed are the yearlings?”

“We’ve been mostly focusing on draft horses. Black Forest and Friesian, to be more specific. They’re both relatively small, yet muscular, which makes them capable of pulling heavy carriages at high speeds.” Lord Angert explained animatedly, clearly appreciating your father’s interest in the topic. “They’re faster and braver. And not as sensitive to noise, which means they don’t get scared as easily.”

You didn’t know what breed the horses back at the base were, but you wondered if the Survey Corps used a similar training for their animals, since they were the calmest, smartest horses you had ever seen. They adapted so well to any rider, whether it was their usual person or a complete stranger.

“So, Lord Angert. You met our daughter at the charity ball last fall?” Your mother was clearly trying to stir the conversation into a direction you found particularly uncomfortable.

“That’s right, my lady. Uncle Hansel is good friends with Commander Smith of the Survey Corps, whom I believe your lady daughter is working under. And that’s how we were introduced. This pie is delicious by the way.” He commented, clearly more interested in the consistency of the pie’s crust than recalling the night you met. And you couldn’t help but find your mother’s disappointment quite amusing.

“My daughter doesn’t just work under Erwin Smith. She is his personal assistant. His right hand, if you will.” Your father spoke in that pretentious manner of his, the one he used when he wanted to embellish his stories or make a situation seem more important than it actually was. And this was the part where you usually cringed, every time. “He really appreciates her. Did you know he once saved her life during an expedition? It was my daughter’s first time beyond the walls.” But this time, you weren’t cringing, surprisingly. You had to admit you actually really enjoyed the sensation caused by the balloon growing inside your chest as your father narrated the story. He was making it his, however, obviously adding his personal touch, as well as some scenes that weren’t in the original version you had told him some months ago.

Lord Angert seemed just as interested in the story as you. And you finally understood why your father liked him. Your father loved to talk and Lord Angert was happy to listen, while he munched on the rhubarb pie.

“Truly remarkable, isn’t it? If it wasn’t for him slicing the titan’s head with one swift motion of his sword, my daughter wouldn’t be here with us today.” Your father concluded after minutes of talking, taking a sip of his wine. “I didn’t expect less of from the Commander of the Survey Corps. And, after the charity ball, he even made sure our daughter got home safe. I didn’t get to thank him personally that night. I’d like to do just that one day. But I digress, bottom line is he is very protective of my daughter.” A pleasant warmth spread throughout your skin, making you smile widely. You had never seen it that way, but now that your father mentioned it, the Commander was indeed protective of you.

“I know Erwin Smith is taking good care of my daughter.” At those words, the warm sensation started spreading to very inappropriate areas, namely the one between your legs. And, for some equally inappropriate reason, your mind didn’t hesitate to provide you with very detailed, explicit images of the commander fingering you in his office, after you had stripped for him. On the night you had slept together. And visuals were not the only thing you could call to mind, you could also hear your own moans, very vividly, as well as the sound of his wet fingers sliding in and out of your throbbing hole, as you moaned his name over and over, asking him to give you more. You pressed your legs tight against each other, deciding you probably had issues you needed to work on, since it was lunch time on a Sunday, for goodness sake.

“Commander Smith is truly a remarkable man. My uncle only has good things to say about him.”

“And that means a lot coming from Hansel, considering how fond he is of talking foul about others.” Your father’s laughter filled the room the same way the sun rays sneaking through the glass ceiling did, while Lord Angert chuckled and shook his head lightly, clearly acknowledging there was some truth in those words. And after a while, he said:

“Did you know Commander Smith regularly donates books to schools and libraries in the countryside? I heard it from my uncle.” Lord Angert explained with a motion of his fork. “Uncle Hansel was very good friends with Commander Smith’s late father. He used to do just the same before passing.” You leaned forward, suddenly more interested in this conversation than ever before. You never thought you would learn so much about the Commander under your own roof on such a random day, and from a complete stranger of all people. “And it’s not only children his kindness extends to. He pays my uncle a yearly commission for the rehabilitation of horses who have been injured while on duty.” Lord Angert paused to enjoy a slice of tangerine, and, in the meantime, you wondered how much the balloon in your chest could grow before bursting. “I’ve heard the other military branches just put them down. But Erwin Smith created a fund for their rehabilitation when he took office. And, as a horse enthusiast myself, I can’t help but respect the man.”

‘Is that true?’, your father asked you in the form of a glance he sent your way, and you nodded fervently, unable to stop a proud smile from taking over your features. This was the first time you heard about all this, but it wasn’t hard to believe the Commander would do all that and more. It was so in character for him. It was in his nature. And, at this point, you were convinced you would never get to see the full picture of him, no matter how far back you stepped.

You couldn’t help but notice that there was something refreshing in the air, and it wasn’t just the brisk winter breeze blowing outside, nor the lemonade you were drinking. A conversation that painted the Commander and the Scouts in a positive light was one of the last things you expected to hear during a family meal, and much less from your father or an aristocrat like Lord Angert, given how used you were to the negative talk you grew up listening to.

“I’ll admit I didn’t have many good things to say about Erwin Smith and his people, but that was before my daughter became one of them. You know, his right hand.” He cleared his throat in an attempt to seem unassuming, but clearly struggling in the process. “However, on my defense, back then, I was only going by what I read in the newspapers.”

“I’m sure he is a gentleman of exceptional character and bravery.” Your mother commented before turning to her guest. “It was a fortunate meeting, indeed.”

You were confused at first, and judging by the way Lord Angert froze, mouth open and fork in hand, so was he.

“At the ball that night. Between you two.” Your mother was not going to give up so easily, was she? You noticed the way she glared at your father, urging him to stick to the topic and cooperate.

“Right.” Your father cleared his throat again. “Hansel mentioned my daughter’s beauty was turning heads at the ceremony.” Your eyes rolled all the way to the back of your skull, and you cringed, not exactly because of the cold.

“Indeed, my lord. She looked truly captivating in her gown.”

“What dress did you wear, honey? I never saw it, now that I think about it. You were wearing that coat.” You almost choked on the sip of lemonade you had just taken, your mother’s question making your throat itch all of a sudden.

“The skill of the tailor and quality of the material really shone through.” Lord Angert replied on your behalf before turning to your mother, his eyes becoming crescent moons once again. “My lady, I’m deeply ashamed of my ravenous appetite, but, at the risk of coming across as gluttonous and opportunistic, I musk ask, do we have more of this glorious compote? My sweet tooth can’t get enough of this sensational texture!” You looked at him, and couldn’t help but return his complicit smile, fully knowing he really didn’t crave more dessert.

-

“I believe I should thank you for saving me from my mother’s scolding back there.” You said a while later, as you walked past your favorite tea house. The sun had already begun making its descent, but the afternoon was still warm enough to take a stroll around the neighborhood.

“No problem. I know what an unpleasant experience it is to be to be lectured by one’s parents, whether it is about wardrobe choices or one’s personal taste.” He replied, eyes looking straight at the path ahead of him, and you couldn’t help but feel that there was some deeper, darker meaning buried under those words, but you figured it wasn’t your place to pry.

“Mother says your background is in poetry, my lord.”

He nodded as the wind played with his locks. “I enjoy penning useless sentences from time to time.” He said, smiling in an unassuming manner.

“Really? Mother definitely made it sound as something more significant and special than casual penning.” She had also mentioned Lord Angert had partially moved to a cabin in a remote mountain village, so he could work on his new book without distractions. It sounded like a fascinating, rather cozy place to live. You looked at him with the intention of asking about his lifestyle, but that’s when you noticed his stare was completely lost in the cobblestones below his feet. He looked at them as if trying to choose the starting words to a tiresome speech, one he didn’t want to deliver.

“My lady.” He turned to you and, although he had only said two words so far, took a long, deep breath. “Your lady mother probably told you that I came all the way to Mitras because I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I met you at the charity ball. That’s what Uncle Hansel told your parents when he arranged our meeting last month, and I’m fully aware of how desperate it makes me look, and how uncomfortable it must make you feel to have a complete stranger suddenly so interested in you that he would come all the way to the capital just to see you. That’s why I would like you to know that all I said that night was that you looked stunning, and that I didn’t know Commander Smith was married to a lady of such staggering beauty.” He stringed all those sentences together very quickly, and without pausing to breathe, as if he feared oxygen would prevent the words from coming out. “And my uncle must have heard something completely different, because the next thing I knew is he has set up a meeting with your parents.”

“And they practically forced you to meet me.” You completed the sentence for him. “Goodness! That is so unbelievably embarrassing. My parents literally made it seem like it was love at first sight and you were going to propose to me by noon.”

“Well, I guess that’s why Uncle Hansel and your lord father are such good friends. They’re both very creative storytellers.”

You chuckled and, afterwards, all you could hear was your footsteps and the sound of the water running down the city canals. The silence was not the uncomfortable type, however. It was mutually conceded.

When you reached the city hall bridge, you felt compelled to speak. But before you could, he stopped walking, turned to you, and said:

“I don’t mean to hurt your pride, my lady, and make no mistake, you are absolutely beguiling, and I’m sure any gentleman would be over the moon if fortune presented them with even the slimmest of chances they could be promised your hand in marriage; but I’m afraid that, in the case of this senseless fool, the flame of romantic desire is not burning as bright as the wish I have to start a friendship with you.”

You laughed in a way your mother would have surely found strident. Lord Angert was truly a poet, after all. “That has to be the most beautiful way of saying ‘you were not what I was expecting’ I have ever heard.”

Lord Angert laughed and you joined him soon after. You appreciated his sincerity.

“Thank you very much for understanding, my lady. With that unnecessary social baggage out of the way, we can finally move to other topics. I believe you are acquainted with my good friend Jean.”

“Kirstein? Yes, he is in another unit, but we went to training camp together.” You explained, eyes studying the way the water sparkled under the sun. You had always found it mesmerizing. “Jean. How did you two meet, my lord?”

“You can just call me Leon.” He said, a smile carving dimples into his cheeks.

Later that evening, after both you and the sun had gone to sleep, your mind replayed the events of that day for you, in the form of a dream. But in the dream, the man sitting beside you at the family table, the one holding your hand as he charmed your father with exciting stories and complimented your mother’s rhubarb pie, he had golden strands instead of hazel locks, and sapphires instead of emeralds. And he would also hold your hand a little later as you strolled along the city canals, and he would only let go once you reached the bridge, where he would hold your waist instead, as his lips would linger on yours in the same entrancing yet melancholic way the setting sun did on the water.

-

next chapter

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[litnerdwrites]

New Friend- Euphemia

I finished with exams yesterday, and the first thing I did (after sleeping) was begin working on the stories rattling around in my head. We have less than two weeks to go for Throne of Secrets, and I'm so excited! Here's a fic inspired by some of the teasers we've gotten so far. In fact, just today, she gave us access to chapters 1-7 of TOS, and chapter 8 was released in an article on Cosmopolitan, if you didn't already know (all of the links are on her instagram, and you know that I'm already fangirling over them). If you've read any of the teasers, feel free to come chat about it! I know I have lots to share!

My next work will be a request, followed by the first chapter of a Nesta fic I teased a while back. After that I'll upload Clandestine Affairs, and then, hopefully, I'll have time for one more Gluttony fic before/on the day the book releases. Fingers crossed!

New Friend - Platonic!Gluttony x Niece!OC

WC:2,642

TW: Nothing but fluff. Oh, and Euphemia is outside in the freezing cold underworld for a while.

Notes: This has some very mild spoilers tos. It's just a character that appears here, along with that character interacting with Gluttony, but if you want to go into it 100% blind, then I advise you not to read.

Euphemia’s hands pressed tightly to her ears, her body curled up behind a wagon, piled high with hay. She felt the ground vibrating beneath her feet, as tens, perhaps hundreds, of hooves thundered past her, out of the stables and into the large, open fields behind House Gluttony. Even after most of the riders had departed, she stayed put, moving only her hands away from her ear. 

Her eyes screwed shut, as she strained her ears for a sign that anyone was left. None reached her ears, so she flickered one eye open, then the other. She waited another moment, before crawling out of her hiding place. Her tiny hands began dusting the dirt off of her dress, only to end up hacking out a cough as it went everywhere. Euphemia’s eyes narrowed towards the ground, and she kicked at it with a huff, scuffing her shiny black shoes. 

She glowered for another second before huffing off towards a table in the back, where saddles lay to be polished, and horse shoes hung on the wall. Her head cocked to the side as she stared at them, only for her to be snapped out of it by the gnashing of teeth. The dark coated Hell Horse eyed her as she squealed, jumping back, towards the table. Her heart began beating frantically, and her eyes burned. She hadn’t seen them alone before. 

Her father was with her when she saw the Hell Horses at home, and when she was weary of them, he’d take her into his arms, and whisper gently to her. “No need to be fearful, my darling. They won’t dare harm you if I’m here.” He’d tell her. But daddy wasn’t here right now. She was by herself. And she would be brave. 

For a moment, she considered ducking under it, but decided that what she wanted, simply would not wait, least of all for a creature still in its stall. So, instead, she held her head high, and marched (jogged) past the beast with shaky limbs. 

A pale blue envelope is pinned to the wall. It’s only after she climbed onto a bale of hay, that she was able to pull it off, and peel it open. Inside, scrawled elegantly, in cursive, was written ‘Ice Dragons’. Underneath, in slightly smaller, but no less elegant lettering, is a location. A large, empty, field around the back of House Gluttony, often forgotten by partygoers. Euphemia grinned, jumping off the Hay, and scurrying out of the Stables. 

______

The Courtyard was silent. Eerily so. Not even the distant sound of Hell beasts could be heard when Euphemia stepped towards a large, wooden door. One hand gripped the straps of a white satchel, tight enough for her knuckles to turn white. Her heart picked up speed with every step towards the door, and her hands shook as she leant forward, reaching for the bolt latch. It only took a couple of tugs, and a grunt or two, before Euphemia managed to pull open the bolt.

She wrung her hands together, and let out a tiny squeal at her accomplishment. The sound echoed in the dark, and she pressed a hand to her mouth in surprise. Perhaps sound carried farther in the uneasy silence? Or perhaps she was louder than she had initially thought. Perhaps her daddy was the one being silly when he mentioned how quiet she was. Euphemia glanced around the courtyard, making sure no one was near, before she scurried to the door. 

Her eyes darted across the treeline before her. There were many silhouettes scattered amongst the trees. Many figures that hid in the shadows. Still, she knew well the tricks that the darkness played. It had fooled her before, many times, in the darkest corners of her bedroom. She saw those shapes, those figures, many times on her balcony, in her closet, and even under her bed.

Slowly, she moved beyond the threshold of House Gluttony, the straps of her bag clutched tightly in her hands. Snow crunched beneath her black flats, and wisps of silver hair swayed in the wind, despite the clips, pins and ornaments to keep them in place. 

“Hello?” she called into the silence. “Anyone here?” 

When there was no response, she pouted. Her steps became more confident as she moved closer, wanting to see what was there. The trees towered over her, and the branches swayed in the icy winds of the Underworld. As she stepped beyond the treeline, and into the woods proper, more silhouettes appeared in the darkness. 

“I know you're here. Uncle’s note said so.” She huffed, resisting the urge to stomp her feet. 

Mama had always told her that she-

Her eyes widened in delight, and she let out an excited squeal. With her frustrations forgotten, Euphemia began running into the woods, and towards the familiar figure ahead of her. Well, somewhat familiar. The ones she was told about were described to be smaller than the Hell Hound pups her father raised. 

As she pushed through the final branches, expecting to come face to face with the creature she sought, her grin dropped. Instead, before her, was a mass of rocks and some fallen trees, likely a result of this night’s hunt. 

“You’re no dragon,” she accused. 

Frustration began pooling in her eyes again, and she marched forward to give the rock a kick, only to stumble back from the pain in her foot. Angry tears lined her eyes, and fell onto the snow beside her. By this point, her fingertips were tipped red from the cold. Despite being immortal, she was also six, so she’d struggle to survive in such temperatures, even while her father and uncles would not. Or at least they would stand a better chance than she, a fact which also frustrated her. She was a demon too. She was immortal too, so surely, she’d be fine. She would. And she would prove it. Today. By finding a-

Her heart sank, and her stomach suddenly found itself in knots. She was no fool, she was the daughter of The Demon of War, and Euphemia knew the presence of danger when she felt it. And now? Now, she found the sudden chill had sunk so deeply into her bones, that her body refused to do more than shiver.  

A shadow stretched beneath her, and she felt the huff of glacier breath at her back. A guttural growl sounded from behind her, and she felt the hair on her neck stand up straight. Trembling, she forced her body to turn. 

Another gasp escaped, at the sight of the large muzzle, and tilting her body to the side, she could even see the serpentine neck, and large, scaly body it connected with. 

“Dragon.” She managed to whisper, awed, despite her chattering teeth.

The creature’s head reared back, and it blinked down at her with slitted eyes. Euphemia’s own eyes only widened further, shining with delight. 

“You’re so pretty,” she cooed at it. 

The dragon huffed, seemingly in approval, and held its head high. She giggled at it, shifting so she faced the creature fully. 

“You’re like my Uncle Pride when you do that,” she told him. “But don’t tell him I said that. He’ll be huffy.” 

The dragon cocked its head to the side at the sight of the giggling child, watching her cautiously. Most demons, and other creatures, cowered before his kind. This child, however, seemed entirely too keen on seeing him.

“I came looking for you, y’know. Daddy and the others were on a hunt, and came out this way, but I wanted to see a dragon too, and they said ‘no’. That’s why I hid, and sneaked out here all on my own.” She admitted proudly. 

The dragon let out a few noises, but she couldn’t make them out. But… They sounded suspiciously like a- 

Euphemia gasped in outrage.

“Are you lecturing me?!” She asked, only for the dragon to raise a single claw, as if telling him to hush. 

She stared at it, while it continued to make unintelligible noises. Noises that sounded far too similar in tone to when her father was scolding her. Euphemia huffed, unimpressed by the dragon’s behavior. She wanted to argue with him, if only she knew what it was saying. Instead, she scanned the large body, taking in the sight of pale blue scales and feather tipped wings. However, it was the tail that held her attention the longest.

Though her stomach still felt tight, and her body was chilled to the bone, she forced her stiff limbs to move. As she stood, she made her way towards the dragon’s tail. Before she reached it, however, the dragon flicked it to the other side. Euphie stared at where the tail was laying just seconds ago, before turning to scowl at the dragon. 

“Oh, come on,” she whined, “they’re so pretty. Can’t I just pet them a little bit?” 

The dragon narrowed its gaze at the big puppy eyes she sent it. A trick that almost always worked with daddy or her uncles. 

And, apparently, dragons.

The dragon made a gesture that seemed suspiciously like an overly dramatic eye roll, but brought the tail back for her to pet. 

The feathers were soft, and surprisingly warm, given that they were from an ice dragon. Euphemia giggled, and crawled right on top of them. The dragon’s eyes widened comically, and his head recoiled, but he made no move to hurt her, or to move his tail. Instead, after taking a minute to take in what just happened, he brought his head closer, to inspect the tiny demon. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her fingers, red from the cold, or the wet patches on her tights, left by the snow. 

“Can you show me your fire?” Euphemia asked the dragon, her voice ever so soft. 

The creature watched her for another second, before moving its head back, and tilting it towards the sky. Three rapid shots of fire were breathed into the air, before it turned back to her. Her face was alight with joy, though seemingly weary, as she watched the icy flames. With a huff, the dragon moved to lay down, curling his body around his tail, where the demon princess rested. He needn’t stay long. Someone would come looking for her very soon. 

______ 

“Silvanus.” 

The dragon turned his head at the voice that called out. A figure emerged from the trees, and into the clearing, clad in a finely tailored dark gray, and pale blue suit. 

“Uncle,” Euphemia called happily, still curled up on the dragon’s fear tipped tail. 

Her hand raked through the large feathers, gently, and Gluttony’s eyes narrowed on the gesture. 

“Euphemia. Come here.” He ordered. 

He didn’t ask her. Nor did he coo at her. He ordered her. 

That’s how Euphimea knew to not waste a second, and moved to stand. Her father and Uncles denied her precious little, and they rarely, if ever, ordered her around. If Uncle Gluttony was doing so now, then surely something was amiss. 

The feathers had warmed her body up somewhat, but her limbs were still stiff from the cold. She found herself shivering again as she moved to sit up, and that her fingertips were too stiff to move at all. Seeing this, the dragon, Silvanus, jerked his head towards his tail, allowing the Prince to step forward himself. 

Gluttony wasted no time, immediately darting forward to scoop up his niece and then move back again. He felt her shivering in his arms, and glared at Sil. The dragon huffed in response, turning up his nose. 

“Do we have to go now?” Whispered Euphemia, her voice tired. 

“Yes.” Her Uncle responded, voice still hard. 

“Okay,” she turned to look at Silvanus with a smile. “Is Silvanus your name?” The dragon dipped his head in a nod. “Well, bye bye then,  Sil. Come visit me, okay?” 

The dragon dipped his chin again, and that gesture seemingly satisfied the princess. 

“You better be prepared to explain this later.” Gluttony hissed at the him. 

“Don’t be mean,” chided Euphemia. 

Sil puffed out some more icy air, and made a sound that seemed far too similar to chuckle. Gluttony shot daggers at the dragon with his gaze, but said nothing. 

Moments later, Euphemia heard heavy footsteps retreating into the woods, and when she turned, her new friend was gone. Gluttony turned and immediately began walking back to the castle. His arms wrapped tightly around her, frowning as she continued to shiver.

“Uncle?” 

“Yes?” he asked, tone clipped. 

Euphie frowned.

“Am I in trouble?” 

He glanced down to glare at her, but her wide, pale pink eyes had him pausing. Wrath was probably going to kill him, of that there was little doubt. Emilia too, if she ever finds out what happened today. Still, despite it all, his niece did seem quite content with Silvanus, though his brother likely wouldn’t care much about that. If Silvanus managed to escape his brother and sister in law, it would likely be named a miracle. Still, he didn’t want to scare his nice, so he forced down unwanted feelings instead. 

“No,” he admitted, “but I probably am.” 

“Why? Because of me? I’m sorry, I-” 

“No, no, no. Shh,” he cooed. “No need to apologize, little demon. I should’ve looked after you better. That’s on me.” 

“But I’m the one who didn’t listen. I did bad,” she frowns.

Euphemia nuzzled into her Uncle’s warmth as they passed back through the gates, and into the courtyard of House Gluttony. 

“But why?” he asked, suddenly seeming calmer. 

“I wanted to see a dragon.” She admits softly. “They sounded so cool in your stories, and I wanted to see a grown up one, so I hid in the stables until you went hunting and found your note. Then I came here.” 

“You had us worried sick,” he admonished, as they finally made it inside. “The Maids were looking everywhere for you. Ana was Especially worried.” 

Euphemia stares at his chest instead of his eyes. 

“I just wanted a friend,” she muttered. 

“A friend?” 

“Someone to talk to, who listened to me. Someone who’d play with me.” 

Whatever was left of Gluttony’s long dead heart fractured at his niece’s words. He was aware, somewhat, of the loneliness that she endured, but he also knew that there was little he could do about it. 

“Euphie-” 

“It’s okay,” she chirped, or tried to anyway. Her body was both cold and tired at the moment, and she needed rest. “I’m okay. I have Daddy, Mama and lots of Uncles, so I’m fine.” 

Gluttony frowned at her attempt to wave it off, but decided not to press. 

“Would you like Coco to warm up, and help you sleep?” he asked gently, and brushed some hair from her face.

“With whipped cream and sprinkles?” 

“And freshly baked raspberry tart too, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Always.” 

She gave him a soft smile, and nodded. Pain lingered in her expression, since she was a bit young to know how to properly disguise it the way demons so often do, but Gluttony decided to let the issue go for now. His niece was shivering and needed some warmth and treats, so that obviously came first. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, heading in the direction of a guest room, one typically reserved for her when she came to visit. 

“Alright, little demon,” he cooed, turning to a servant they were passing to relay the order to the chef, before continuing on. “Just don’t tell your mother.” 

Euphemia gave him a small smile, dragged two fingers across her lips, as if to zip them closed, then made the motions of locking them, and throwing the key. 

Cute, Gluttony thought. 

“My lips are sealed.”