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no-droids · 3 years

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Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt. You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours. But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to. You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did. Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints. Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does. Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it. But truthfully, you didn’t want to. You were worried about him—still are, actually. But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on. He’s been through way worse, and you know it. You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers. He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening. Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure. All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation. After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield. It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips. The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards. To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster. “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you. “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code. My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound. “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment. “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it? You blink. No, it doesn’t. You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name. You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever. “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not. “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show. Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here. Something could’ve happened. Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it. Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina. Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot. “They’re fodder. Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.” He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass. “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions. Tied specifically to Guild contracts.” Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare. “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties. Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him. “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace. “Not sure I’d care too much if you did. It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit. Shit. What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed. Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company. He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied. Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence. Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy. It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this. Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve. Karga is a nice guy, right? He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando. And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too. How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder? You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?” You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?” He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice. Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly. You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way. You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity. “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it. “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you. If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice. If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it. You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal. “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head. “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out. “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold. It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to. It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando. You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave. You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides. He said he wants to help you? This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?” He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head. The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?” You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours. “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously. “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances. You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment. “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away. He helped you out, you’re halfway through this. Now comes the exchange. Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you. “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far. Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late? He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face. “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table. There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task. “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…” Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it. This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here. He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it. “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you. “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay. Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much. Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again. Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.” You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you. “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay. Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly…

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it. Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck. It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward. You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?” You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit. This is not at all how you expected any of this would go. You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request. There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary. Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum. “You said you’re here on his behalf. You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh. Oh, no. This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits. It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table. You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here. It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!” He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good. Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t. You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you. You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach. He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him? Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried. Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before. Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp. The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him. “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend. The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air. Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now. You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all. It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe. “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet. Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense. You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him. You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!” A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab. Right in fucking front of him. “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck. Great. Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t. You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out. Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now. You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it. Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

***

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried. You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual. You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing. Was there a confrontation, you wonder? Is he okay? He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though. As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you. Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view. The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace. He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?” He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down. “Are you alright? Why did you look so scared?”

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say. How are you going to tell him? He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say? You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh… I-I’m sorry, I just…” But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him. “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?” He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him. “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out. His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him. If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands. “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you. Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess. “It’s okay. You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak. He’s lying for your benefit, he must be. When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—” You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…” His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?” You have to think about it. Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already? You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility. “Um… no? I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?” He asks, taking a small step forward. “You don’t know? Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes. You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now. It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…” Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him. “I don’t know, I’m not like you. I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better. I think he was probably just being normal. He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb. This is what’s bothering him? Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work? It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played. He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them. How are you supposed to take that? Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning? You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?” You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest. It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason. He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you. Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly. Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him. “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.” His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention. “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?” You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm. In another weirdly stupid, primitive way. You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it. Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode. Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before. You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now. He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of. “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “Maybe. He could’ve just been trying to be friendly. What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit. “Did he scare you?”

“For me?” You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards. Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless. “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?” Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze. “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds. The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid. Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you. Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you. You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours. You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now. Achy. Hot. Needy. Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?” He asks you after a prolonged silence. His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained. Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you. “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice. Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards. He wants to do this here? Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word. Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?” You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck. You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought. Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to. It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker. You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it. Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long. You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you. You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?” Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner. You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him. He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss. Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this? Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?” Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you. Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull. Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment. You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you. “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet. This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest. Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling. “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need. Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point. You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?” Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him. You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing. Nothing. You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing. Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time. Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability. You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better. His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again. You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view. Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass. The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time. His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open. You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit. His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you. The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here. If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body. You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it. You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort. Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most. Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this. You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too. It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too. Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place. You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace. Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance. You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him. He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you. Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can. It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning. You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer. His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting. Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?” He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it. “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could. He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle. You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to. You could struggle. If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it. You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time. Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him. You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more. It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too. Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t. Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock. Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him. There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin. You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you. You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears. Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways. You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb. Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off. You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up. The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours. Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works. Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too. At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly. You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal. You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face. “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do. Easy. He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed. Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body. You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep. He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal. The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again. You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation. Come on, work. Move forward. Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly. Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled. Ran over by a truck. Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful. This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart. The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones. You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs. It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever. It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it. “Hey. Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know? You figured you’d be way ahead of him. You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here. The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over. You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point. It’s easy, you like it. Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back. Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway. It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin. Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine. He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin. His bar of soap, not yours. They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize. How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone. The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not. Hot water, not freezing cold. Standing upright and supporting you. Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue. You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he��s just going to go away again. Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this. Skin to skin contact. Someone to hold. Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar. Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest. You want to tell him not to leave. Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay. You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed. You don’t know. But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know. You know. From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection. But you know him. You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return. You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you. Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary. Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to. It wasn’t said so he could say it back. It just is. Some things don’t need explanations, they just are. You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it. You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word. It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels. There’s something hidden underneath. You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired. You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless. He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber. “I’m… not allowed to ask. I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense. Was that a translation? Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest. It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it. You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows. “You can.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #fanfic #reader-insert #rough day #no-droids #smut

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opalesense · 3 years

Text

darkest fantasy

childe & f!reader (NSFW)

3.7k words • ~30 min. read

summary: one night you decide to make one of childe’s darkest fantasies into a reality, but as the night progresses, things don’t seem to go according to plan. at least... not according to your plan.

warnings: cnc, sexual assault, blood, death, knives, outdoor sex, lil comfort at the end i promise

notes: saw fatui agent childe fanart and AWOOGA... anyway i tried putting some in game screenshots in this for that extra ~immersion~ and might do that more often in some future fics if you guys want! thanks for 200 followers and i hope you enjoy!! ; ^ ;

“I SHOULDN’T HAVE BROUGHT IT UP,” Childe’s eyebrows furrowed as he rested a hand against his forehead, clearly flustered by the way he chuckled his nervousness away. “You really get me to say the stupidest things, [Y/N].”

“It’s not stupid at all! C’mon, lighten up a bit!” you placed a hand on his arm and inched closer to his face, sensing the warmth in his cheeks. His shy eyes connected with yours when he let out a deep sigh, thanking you for the validation without him needing to say anything. It was rare to see him this nervous.

“We’re not going to do it, babe. You asked me to tell you a secret fantasy and that’s all it’ll ever be. A fantasy. Just something in my imagination.”

He gave you a quick kiss on your forehead before pulling away from you and walking towards the bedroom door to call it a night, but you quickly gripped him by the wrist to pull him back which immediately grabbed his attention. Swiftly, you leaned in to mutter words into his ear that would echo in his head for the rest of the night until the next day.

“Luckily for you, the thought of doing it gets me a little excited. So why don’t we try to make your fantasy into a reality?”

THE HARBOR’S NIGHT LIFE always flourished near the end of the week. Plenty of workers who had weekends off would fish by the docks, street performers and storytellers would entertain families passing by, and restaurants would be packed full with hungry customers craving for the delectable cuisine of Liyue. Teenage friends gathered in front of the theatre while the elderly seemed to congregate by the teahouse. Children ran across the pavement from time to time flying kites and playing with butterflies. Liyue was truly fascinating during the night, full of a liveliness that always put a sense of joy in each heart that walked through its streets.

Yet when you walked through the streets, lacking a companion and cold from the slightly revealing dress you wore, there was a sickly mixture of giddy excitement and wrenching anxiety in your heart. You had loosely planned this night with Childe so you knew what to expect, but at the same time, you didn’t. You had no idea where he was, what exactly he was planning to do to you, or when it would all start in the first place since you had been wandering around the harbor for about an hour now. All he wanted you to do was “wear this dress and enjoy your evening,” as he said in his own words. But he simply left you with those vague instructions as well as a bag of Mora to indulge yourself with.

Even if he didn’t show up, the highlight of your night would be the mouthwatering dinner you had by yourself along with the sight of people offering lanterns to the sky. It was a beautiful night indeed.

Another hour of wandering and occupying yourself with activities passed and you were feeling restless. The thought of Childe made you squirm in your seat, excitement flooding your nerves as you craved to see him now more than ever.

If Childe’s following me, I should go somewhere less crowded, you thought.

Assuming he was watching you at this very moment, you decided to make things easier for him, leaving the storyteller’s pavilion and walking across the bridge heading towards Mt. Tianheng. Mindlessly wandering and following the dirt path, you began to veer left towards the Golden House, but the distant sight of the Millelith immediately turned you back around.

Not there.

ON YOUR WAY BACK to the main path, you noticed a smaller, less travelled road wedged between two large rocks, the dimly lit lantern sitting up ahead enticing you to follow where it leads. You found yourself curiously walking up the hill, taking in the starry night sky and whistling trees until you turned the final corner to see a group of miners idly standing around, bantering with one nearby Millelith guard.

They noticed your sudden presence and waved hello, to which you waved hello back. One of the miners, who leaned against a cart full of iron, was the first to fully acknowledge you. “Hey, are you lost, miss?”

“Oh, no, not at all. I was just curiously wandering around, taking in the sights and all,” you grinned politely, glancing up at the calm night sky. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it boys?”

“Taking in the sights, are you?” another miner slowly approached you, a few more starting to pay attention to you. “You know, you’re certainly a sight to take in too with that pretty little dress of yours.”

You had completely forgotten that you looked very out of place with what you were wearing – a short traditional-like dress with a small hole exposing a small area of your chest. Your eyes quickly widened as you processed what the miner said, but before you fully realized it and came back to your senses, the men had circled around you and were getting dangerously close. You instinctively reached down to grab the blade that was usually tucked and sheathed in your belt but after grabbing nothing with the realization that of course, you were wearing a dress, genuine panic began to seep in.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing out late at night looking like that anyway? You’re practically begging to be touched,” a man’s voice behind you teased, grabbing your hips as he emphasized that last word. You swiftly elbowed him in the ribs to defend yourself and temporarily push him away, but the other men were quick to react as a pair of hands grabbed your arms and pinned you into place.

You snapped your head towards the Millelith guard, expecting him to do something to help you as a protector of the harbor. But he simply stood there at his post, glancing away as soon as you met his eyes. And if Childe were watching, you were sure he would have stepped in by now. He was often the jealous type anyway. But while the men slowly pulled you under a nearby deteriorated pergola despite your thrashing then greedily groped your body, help was nowhere to be seen.

All hope you had for a fun night was gone. Tears swelled in your eyes as you attempted to kick away the hungry hands but it was no use. Please, you silently prayed, someone help me!

As if someone had heard your prayers, the sound of a projectile zipping past your head followed by your arms being freed from the man who was restricting you was the sound of freedom. The others looked up in horror and paused their advances as their friend dropped injured behind you. Suddenly, a dark figure leaped from the hill above and landed on the ground confidently, quickly pulling out two blades then lunging forward to the miners, catching them by surprise. You took this temporary moment of freedom to kick the hands off of you and scramble away, running back towards the path. You could hear the sounds of bodies thumping to the ground behind you coupled with loud groans of agony, and you can only imagine what your unknown savior looked like but all you could focus on was getting away as soon as possible with the limited mental strength you had.

But much to your dismay, one of the miners still managed to grab you tightly and drag you back, and every time you wiggled away, they had a strong grip on you. Sobs of desperation escaped your throat, “Let me go! Let me go, please! Help!”

“Leaving so soon?” a different voice growled in your ear as the man’s grip around your waist tightened. It was deep, distorted, and certainly anxiety inducing. You looked down in a flurry of panic to see black and red sleeves wrapped around your figure. This was not one of the miners.

The man lifted you up a few inches from the ground to turn you around. You were faced with bodies littering the floor. It had only been less than ten seconds and the entire scene was drenched in blood. The sight of the freshly killed miners as well as the one guard made you tremble in fear rather than feel grateful for being saved just now.

“I think I deserve a reward for protecting you from those filthy bastards, wouldn’t you agree?” the man inched you closer to the bodies but you closed your eyes as soon as you could recognize the open wounds from his blades. “At least a thank you would be nice.”

“Get away from me!” you yelled and thrashed in his arms again but quickly stopped once you heard the sound of his blade being unsheathed. You opened your eyes to see a bloodied dead man at your feet as well as a knife at your throat, pressing gently at your fragile skin.

“You’re a tough one, aren’t you? I wouldn’t be so resistant if I were you,” the man’s gravelly voice was definitely unfamiliar but his tone and inflection reminded you of...

“Childe....” you weakly muttered under your breath, which made the man laugh in response.

“Childe, you say? You have something to do with the boss?” he pressed his hips harder against yours, his erection subtly throbbing underneath his clothes.

“So you’re Fatui, aren’t you?” you mustered enough courage to make your voice sound threatening enough. You let out a sarcastic laugh despite your low confidence. “You have no idea who you’re messing with. Once Childe finds out about this, your life will be over within seconds.”

“Who are you to say something like that?” he slowly began walking the two of you over to the nearest wall, a large rock that cast an equally large shadow from the moonlight. “I’m surprised a dumb little slut like you would even know his name.”

Your eyes squinted at the insult. “You don’t need to know who I am. All you have to know is you’ll be dead by tomorrow morning.”

“We’ll see about that,” he suddenly used his free arm to turn you around so your back slammed against the cold rock. You finally looked up at your captor to confirm your suspicions of this predatory savior. He was certainly part of the Fatui, his red and black mask concealing his identity with yellow glowing eyes staring directly at you. His arm positioned itself directly next to your head so he could hold his blade against your neck again, threatening any potential thoughts of escaping. His other hand suddenly grabbed the open space in your dress and pulled down, ripping the fabric in half and exposing your half naked form, eliciting a loud gasp from you. Panic began to seep in. How could I walk back home practically naked? Would I even end up alive to come back home?

Before you could use your arms to cover yourself up in an attempt at modesty, he pressed the blade to your neck that even the slightest movement would ensure spilled blood. “Don’t even think about it.”

He looked up and down at your body, humming with satisfaction as he began to unzip his pants and free his cock. You couldn’t exactly take a good look at it with the knife restricting your range of motion, but even then, you weren’t sure you wanted to look. His free hand gripped your bare waist. “And to think that those other filthy men were about to get their hands on this... You really should thank me.”

Another gasp escaped your throat as he slowly dug his hand under the strap of your underwear. His leather gloves snaked their way further down, inching closer and closer to your core. You could feel his grip on his blade tighten with his tensed muscles. “That was a command. Thank me.”

“T-Thank you,” you whimpered as he pulled down the last bit of clothing you hid behind. He let out a satisfied groan at the sight of your aching cunt, which you hated to admit was dripping wet from thinking about Childe earlier in the night. Even now, you really hated to admit this situation was somehow turning you on, even though you were simultaneously disgusted and shaking in fear.

“You’re practically soaking for me, aren’t you?” the man let out a slow chuckle as he dipped a gloved finger into your hole without warning. You gasped at the sudden penetration, careful not to arch your back into his touch with the knife still pressed at your throat. The man began relentlessly shifting his finger in and out of you and watched your face squirm with pleasure and denial at the same time. He maniacally chuckled at the way you were completely unsure of how to feel, and wanting to hear you moan louder instead of quietly pant and sigh, he inserted another finger and picked up the pace.

“Your cunt is so tight, you know that?” he teased, “If you’re moaning like this now I can only imagine how my cock will make you feel.”

“N-No, please,” you moaned out helplessly, “Please don’t...”

He pulled his fingers away and quickly shoved them into your mouth while it was still open, freeing your throat from his knife and slowly trailing it down your body while he made you suck on his gloved fingers, wet from your own fluids. The cold metal found itself settling right above your hips and with no hesitation he began leaving flesh wounds, the leftover blood from the men easily being mistaken as yours at first glance.

“I’m going to put away the knife, but you’ll be a good girl for me and stay still, won’t you? You saw what I did to those men. It would be a shame if you met the same fate just because you wanted to escape,” he sheathed the blade and pulled his fingers out of your mouth to grab your waist, forcing you to turn around. He bent down slightly to get a hold of your thighs, and in one swift move, folded your body into the likings of a full nelson, your legs hanging onto his elbows with his chest pressed against your tense back. As he reached his hands to clasp behind your neck and push your body into the intense position, the connection between this man and Childe made your eyes light up.

This was one of his favorite positions. No way it was just coincidence.

“So it is you, Childe,” you happily grinned as he turned the both of you to face the bloodied mess from before so he could lean against the wall. His touches seemed to get more familiar as the realization sunk in, but at the same time, you wondered if your mind was just playing tricks on you to make the best out of the current situation. You sat on the fence of either blindly believing this mysterious man was Childe or giving into the reality that this really was a stranger.

“You’re delusional, slut. Childe has nothing to do with this, I don’t know why you keep mentioning his name,” he hissed in your ear, getting more and more irritated.

You finally glanced down for the first time since nothing could restrict your neck anymore. To your delight, you smiled at his throbbing cock twitching as it waited at your entrance, aching to stir your insides. You giggled sweetly, finally relaxing with a deep sigh. You now knew with certainty that you were safe. Everything was under control. His control.

“Childe, I recognize every inch of your cock like it’s second nature,” you stared at his familiar length then reached out to wrap your fingers around the tip, the muscle twitching in response. “You’ve never been this hard before... You must be so excited right now.”

“One more word out of you about Childe and I will kill you right here. Do not test me.”

“You wouldn’t, right? You love me too much,” you boldly declared, teasing him for staying in character. When he didn’t answer and instead shifted his cock to push his tip inside you, you let out a sharp exhale. He went in too fast, too rough. Even if you were dripping wet, the way he shoved himself inside you was merciless and tore you apart immediately.

You tried to find the pleasure in it but as soon as he started thrusting not even a few seconds later, you worriedly whispered, “S-Slow down... Please! It hurts, Ajax-“

“You’re going to take all of it in. Maybe that’ll teach you not to be an annoying, disobedient brat from now on,” he interrupted.

Destroying you was an understatement of what he was truly doing to your body. He would repeatedly pull his length out before shoving it back in, rolling his hips so naturally with each thrust having clear intention to break you apart. Your cunt visibly throbbed, the excruciating pain slowly turning into ethereal pleasure from the attention it was getting from his thick shaft. He closely listened to the way your cries turns into gleeful moans, excitedly fucking you as his mind further indulged in the fantasy. After all, this entire night had been exceedingly frustrating and enticing to him and to take out all his pent up energy on you was the only thing on his lust filled mind.

Soon enough, his thrusts began to roll in harder as he held onto you tightly, his moans becoming more intense as the only thing on his mind was how good he was feeling, fucking you in front of the kills he certainly prided himself on. Similarly, you felt your insides burn at the feeling of being manhandled and treated like a toy, or the way he began moaning your name in a low whisper as you felt his cock twitching inside you, aching for release – the first time he had ever acknowledged your name tonight.

“[Y/N], baby – fuck!” his distorted voice cried out, “I’m... I’m gonna...!”

“Me too...!” you felt your legs shake violently as you neared your climax, “A-Ajax!”

He let out one final thrust, burying himself inside of you until his length plugged up your sore hole and dumped his seed deep inside you. His load came in pulses, slowly coating your insides with moans of ecstasy ringing in your ear as he rested his chin on your shoulder. Your cunt quivered as you reached your release as well, your fluids swirling with his to make one happy mix of satisfaction.

The both of you stayed in this position, panting and trying to calm down from your highs. Childe let go of his hands behind your neck and positioned them to hold your knees without pulling out of you, allowing you to freely move your head again. Though, you didn’t want to take your eyes off of his cock buried inside of you, opting to keep your head hanging down to actively avoid looking at the bodies in front of you. Childe must have noticed this, and of course, he had to say something about it.

“Sorry about... them. I hate... really hate when people try to mess with what’s mine,” he took a deep sigh as he slowly pulled out of you, watching his cum ooze out from your cunt to drip down to the space between his shoes. The sight could have been enough for him to push for another round, but he figured now wasn’t the time. He had the urge to explain himself.

“I was just so mad and... though I have to admit, seeing their blood on my blade got me so excited... wait, I think I might’ve gotten a little too excited,” something seemed to have clicked in his mind when he said that, “Baby, I’m so sorry! We shouldn’t have done this, I did so many things to you, I’m so sorr-“

“It’s okay, Childe,” you slowly turned your head to his so your faces were only an inch apart, his mask being the sole barrier that stopped you from kissing him to shut him up. “I had so much fun. Did you?”

“Of course I did,” he slowly placed you down to stand on your feet again, which was admittedly tough since he had fucked the life out of you. He briefly held your waist to stabilize you as you wobbled back and forth, his cum now dripping down your thighs. He then lifted his hood up to reveal his fluffy red hair and took off his mask, throwing it to the ground to meet you with teary eyes. His voice was no longer distorted by that cursed mask, and a look of genuine concern sat in his deep eyes. “I-I’m so sorry for scaring you, [Y/N]. I could see it in your eyes the entire time and I hate to admit that it turned me on and now I feel so bad–“

You swiftly pressed your lips to his, finally shutting him up from his rambling. He responded by eagerly returning the kiss, cupping your face in his hands and closing his eyes. For a moment, his troubles melted away once he realized you weren’t upset with him, and millions of thoughts about how much he loved you raced through his mind. But It wasn’t long before he broke the exchange, taking off his hooded garments to drape it over your cold, naked body. It was apparent he put thought into this moment, already wearing his normal clothes underneath the Fatui uniform as if he had planned to cover you up from the start. He made sure to pin it closed and fasten it tightly, ensuring that every exposed part of you was warm and covered. Once he was done, he pulled you in for a hug, holding you tightly as he stared at the bodies behind you, sighing contently.

“I love you, [Y/N]. Thank you for accepting me for who I am and letting me have tonight. We really don’t have to do this ever again if you don’t want to.”

“I love you too,” you smiled sweetly. “Just... next time, please don’t keep me waiting so long. The uncertainty was thrilling but I was sure I was going to die back there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time. I just got caught up with the Millelith because I’m dressed like an agent, then I lost sight of you and... wait,” he pressed his forehead against yours and gently, yet eagerly whispered with a grin, “so there’s really going to be a next time?”

#childe #childe x reader #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #ajax #ajax x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #mine #bang #genshin impact x reader

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whoopsieintheuniverse · 3 years

Text

Headcanon Time!

Yeeeeaaaaahhhhhh I’m writing for Naruto again!

Kisame Headcanons

NSFW under the cut so Imma need the minors to not go under there. Thnks.

Very polite, mhm.

This is kind of canonical, but I just wanna emphasize how polite Mr. Hoshigaki is. He will kick your ass in training and then tell you to have a good day and genuinely mean it.

He’s also just not very judgmental, which is probably due to how he was raised.

I headcanon that Kisame had a very country, almost hilly-billy like family. In canon, there are no Hoshigaki names on memorials in his village; they’ve been expunged. I don’t know why but that’s some Hatfield-McCoy type shit. The Hoshigakis were menaces to society for no particular reason, and Kisame just had to go with the family.

After seeing what he’s seen, yeah Kisame is not judging you at all.

Talks to Samehada and knows its responses like the back of his hand.

I think the bond to Samehada and its user works similarly to Venom and Eddie Brock.

That shit is a symbiote and you cannot change my mind.

A FULLY SENTIENT SWORD?? THAT HAS FOOD TASTE PREFERENCES??? yeaaaaahhh your honor, that’s a symbiote.

Sometimes, who Kisame trains with is dependent on what chakra Samehada has a taste for that day. Kisame definitely soils her. Talks to her like a dog when no one is looking.

Itachi has seen it. He says nothing, but he think it’s cute.

Because of the bond between him and Samehada, I think Kisame can kind of taste chakra, too. He’s been bonded to the sword so many times that he has some of its powers even when not formally bonded together.

Kisame can swim, but he can’t fish.

It makes no sense, but Kisame is terrible at fishing. He isn’t all that patient, and sedentary activities like that don’t strike his fancy all that much.

Itachi is convinced that sometimes Kisame scares the fish away on purpose.

As for swimming, Kisame, of course, is a strong swimmer, but did you know that wasn’t always the case?

Kisame couldn’t swim all that well until he hit the ninja academy. I definitely think his family just chucked him into the water, and poor baby was pretty sure he was drowning until he remembered his gills.

I think the “fussy, nervous kid growing up into a laid-back adult” trope is just funny, and it fits Kisame in my mind.

Instigatorrrrrrrr.

Again, pretty canonical, but one of Kisame’s favorite hobbies is starting shit.

The rest of the Akatsuki is sooooo used to hearing him pipe up,” You just gonna take that?” during an argument.

Itachi tries to get him to stop with one of his patented “Uchiha glares” but pouring fuel on a fire is too good for Kisame sometimes.

Besides, he doesn’t do it often. More of just messing around. The Akatsuki is really the first place Kisame has been more comfortable of being himself and not just a weapon or tool, so his personality really has a tendency to chime through when he finds something funny amongst the members.

In addition to this, Kisame also is very physical in a big-brother way. Very much will give Deidara a noogie. Is also the king of the shoulder-bump thing guys do when they pass you. Kisame is your annoying frat-brother confirmed.

To go with the above, Kisame has not had many friends.

He didn’t allow himself to have friends. Thought they were liabilities.

As such, even though Kisame will consider you a friend in his mind, he will be very independent.

This is because he still struggles with the “shinobi have no friends” mentality, and because he doesn’t want his friends to think he can’t handle himself.

To Kisame, if he isn’t firing at 500%, he isn’t good enough and other people will think that as well.

Pls tell him he’s good.

***********************NSFW CONTENT BELOW!!***************

NSFW Kisame Headcanons

Get into it, yuh

Firm believer in “attitude adjustments”.

Like, if there’s something seriously wrong, of course he’s not gonna be one of those guys that just pop it out unprompted. However.

You feeling bad, babe? Shooot, let your man fix it. Hidan pissed you off? Yeah, let him make it all better. That movie made you sad? Sit on his lap and tell him alllll about it.

Let. Him. Pin. You. Down.

Kisame has such a huge thing for immobilizing his partner. Not even in a bondage way, but definitely with his body. Gets him hot for sure.

It also makes him feel all mushy that you trust him enough to let him have that control. Think about it. You trust him, a missing-nin, a mercenary, and whatever else people call him. Despite everything he’s done and everything he’s been through, you still trust him and love him. Makes Kisame love you more each time.

Adventurous in bed.

The Kama Sutra is a checklist for Kisame. No, I will not accept criticism, and no, I will not take it back.

Every time, it’s kind of interesting to see what positions Kisame will think of next.

He can’t help it! He loves every part of you, so of course he wants to see and touch and taste everything. One minute, you’re face to face and the next minute, he’s slinging you into a different position. Just how it is babes.

He will look out to not stress or stretch your body in any ways you can’t take, especially if you’re not a shinobi.

Kisame has a thing for being used by his partner.

Now let me explain. To put it lightly, sit on his face. Use him as a dildo every once in a while. Take what you want from him, pls.

Kisame just wants you to be completely satisfied by him. Using his body to get off like that is just *static noises*. Please just top him once in a while, I promise he will love it.

So sweet after.

Kisame is not stupid. He knows his stamina is crazy, and he knows he’s rough.

Gives the best massages! Let him work out those knots he’s put into your back.

Likes to cuddle. He’s touch-starved and the first time you curled up to him, it freaked him the hell out. After that though? If you don’t cuddle up to him post-coitus, he’s going to assume something’s wrong unless you tell him otherwise.

He also likes little forehead kisses and kisses on his shoulders. Don’t tell the guys, he has a reputation to keep.

#kisame #kisame hoshigaki #kisame x reader #kisame hoshigaki x reader #akatsuki headcanons #akatuski #kisame akatsuki #kisame headcanons #akatsuki headcanon

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 3 years

Text

To lay this issue of “tone over text” to rest:

Alright, so many of you have sent me messages of both varieties -

some people vehemently say “I don’t think you’re being rude! I think your tone is fine”

and some people are agreeing, telling me that they always felt intimidated by my replies.

And I.... See both sides of it?

The reality is, I have people reading my comic from ALL OVER THE WORLD! I have people from countries that have a very low politeness-sensitivity and those that expect me to pad out my answers with much more pretense and politeness. And neither of those people are WRONG!

I have lived in 3 different countries with SUPER DIFFERENT levels of expected social politeness and I have had to adjust myself EVERY TIME. I’m ‘too kind’ in Russia, and I’m ‘too rude and straightforward’ in Japan, so trust me - not being ‘palatable’ to an audience in not a new things to me.

Of COURSE I want to come across as kind and friendly - you guys read my comic, support me, often financially, and give me a reason to keep going! I want to reply to your questions, and I am never purposefully TRYING to make anyone feel stupid.

That being said... before you condemn me for not being polite enough or before you accuse me of not being careful enough in my answers, please understand:

I’m one human being. I have 2 jobs, and I do this comic as a THIRD job in my free time. I am an ARTIST, not a politician, not a PR team.

And yeah, my NATURAL speaking tone is... kinda straightforward and not super sugary! I know that!!

(I am working on it! I’m trying my best to get better. But if I have to choose between dedicating energy to the comic and dedicating energy to a Customer Service voice... well...)

Another thing is that...I get a LOT of asks. I am constantly asked questions - questions I have put effort into placing into the FAQ, demands I ignore, hate-mail I straight up delete and never show you guys but that still takes a toll on me.

At any given point in time, this is my askbox:

(and things I will not screenshot because they are straight up nsfw)

So if you are wondering why I sometimes reply bitingly to seemingly innocuous asks - this may be why!

And of course - this isn’t anyone’s fault! If you just want to ask me a genuinely curious question, I get it! I get that it isn’t your intention to hurt MY feelings!

But before you accuse me of being too condescending in tone and not kind enough in putting my answer across - please ask yourself - how does YOUR ask come across?

Is it a single sentence question? Is it a demand? Did you say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’? Did you treat me as a human being, did you use humanizing language? Did you put the effort in of checking my FAQ before you demanded that I put the effort in of writing you a brand new, polite paraphrase of the same thing I’ve been asked 30 times before? Did you ask your friends about a plot point and try to work out the answer on your own - or did you just type in the question like you would into Google and expect a timely reply?

Are you thinking just as much about how YOUR ask comes across as you are thinking about how impolite MY answer was?

.... yeah, maybe that’s kinda demanding on MY side. But I have been doing my best to get better about answering asks! I have worked hard to be peppy, to write up thoughtful answers, to put in sarcasm tags, to put in effort to be polite!

And to be honest, I’m not sure I can confidently say that any of the people complaining about my tone have thought about their OWN tone half as much! I agree that I have stuff I need to work on, and I promise that I WILL.

But please, meet me halfway.

#not saracsm #not mad #just #tired #chekhov writes a text post

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lasquadrasfuckhouse · 3 years

Note

hello I am back with a request if that’s ok with you q w q ) for la squadra with scenario-hc’s with their s/o taking care of them ( can go nsfw if you’d like but for now sfw thoughts ) as much as I love them taking care of their s/o I love when the roles are switched. Can be injured or other— but the goal is to make them feel safe and loved for as much as possible, like my other ask tender emotional moments are my jam. If find the muse for it 💖 if not that’s completely ok too. Pls & thnk u 🥰

ALWAYS OKAY W/ ME I LOVE SEEING U IN MY ASKBOX!!!! it's tendie hours 😍

taking care of la squadra 😌

risotto ✂️

it isn't easy to get risotto to relax, he's a workaholic. sit on him and give him a Look that you're not moving and neither is he, and he'll be so charmed that he'll relent.

he's also more used to taking care of people than being taken care of, so it's a bit of an adjustment to sit on his ass for a few days until he's recovered from the worst of whatever injury/illness he's got, but he finds himself getting like, quietly kind of emotional about it. he hasn't allowed himself to be cared for in a long time and he expresses that to you, and how much he appreciates and loves you.

he finds he really enjoys the opportunity to relax, cause yeah he's under the weather but at least he can chill for a bit. and he'd very much love to chill with you if you have the time. quiet cuddles or existing comfortably in the same space will have him feeling very cozy, loved, and rested. kiss him on the forehead to remind him that he is soft and precious and he'll want to snuggle you all day with a little smile on his face.

prosciutto 🚬

also not used to being taken care of. he'll be grumpy and try to micromanage the house from his bed at first (and you probably banished him to bed because he wasn't getting any rest on the couch). he relaxes when he wants to!!!! remind him that he needs time to recover and he's only human, and you promise the house won't fall apart without him. not only is he soft for you but he trusts you completely, so he relaxes.

he might be a bit restless, but set him up with a book and he'll be good. you may even take on prosciutto-like mannerisms in his place, like shushing the others if they're being too noisy. if he overhears you insisting on peace and quiet so he can rest, he'll smile to himself.

what really gets him and lets him know he's loved is taking over what he usually does while he rests, like folding his laundry and putting it away in the order he likes. and if you initiate the classic forehead touch with a smile and tell him to chill so he can get better, he'll gladly lay around all day thinking of you.

pesci 🎣

he tries to power through it but no honey you need to rest. give him puppy eyes and say you really want him to relax and get better, and he'll do it for you. he will get SO better for his babe just u see!!!!

he's also kind of glad for the chance to have downtime tho, even tho he's typically eager to help and stuff. he just wishes he didn't feel like ass. cheer him up with lots of cuddles and quiet relaxing things u can do together and he'll feel loads better!!!

he may feel kind of bad at first like oh no he doesn't want to bother u. but reassure him that he is never a bother, u love him and love being with him and that doesn't change when he's under the weather. he will accept that and thank u wholeheartedly for taking care of him

formaggio 🧀

milks it for all its worth. OOOH BABE IM IN SO MUCH PAAAIN PLEASE HOLD MEEE 😩 if he's feeling like shit at least he's gonna get cuddles out of it

would love nothing more than to snuggle up and watch stupid movies with you all day. he may just cling to you if you try to get up and insists that someone else can fetch you both dinner/blankets/etc instead. you're his best medicine!!! his comfort!!!! do not seperate!!!!!

but he is a sucker for a home cooked meal. even if you go for a bit, if you come back with something u made urself, even if it's not the most amazing display of chef skills, he'll be falling all over himself with how much he loves you because you put love and effort into something to make him feel better

illuso ✨

one of the WORST when he gets sick or injured because he just complains and lays on the pity party even more than formaggio. everything sucks!!! woe is illuso!!!! he needs ur healing kisses!!!!!

he definitely goes into the mirror world to rest b/c he needs peace and quiet or he'll get cranky. but he will bring u ofc. not just to be pampered either he's just cozy and happy in ur company

lavishing him in attention aside, what will REALLY tug on his heart is taking initiative to take care of him, like asking first how he's feeling, bringing an extra blanket cause you know he likes to have a pile of them, offering to very gently brush his hair. just like, little genuine attentive things. it may get him blushing

melone 🍈

very practical about it, there's that whole thing of 'people with medical backgrounds are the worst patients for one reason or another' but he doesn't try to take shortcuts with the rest he knows he needs and he's very polite and patient with asking for/instructing on what he needs

he's great at finding ways to entertain himself so no worries in that regard. if he's worried about getting you sick he may actually discourage cuddles for once in his life but otherwise he'd love to snuggle up to his babe all day

he'd honestly just feel really comforted if you told him all about your day and shared cool things with him or the classic 'i saw this and thought of you' he'll be 😍

ghiaccio ❄️

EXTRA grumpy when he's uncomfortable or in pain and unable to work his energy out. he's very active, so his body (or you) making him sit on his ass when he doesn't want to will leave him very prickly even though logically he knows it's for the best.

he'll generally want his space but then have bouts of feeling very cuddly. picture him cocooned in blankets with only the top half of his face visible and his general grumpy glower relaxes as u massage his scalp like calming an angry cat.

he'll be very thankful for everything you do, including kissing his cheeks or leaving him to chill with some water and a book or shushing the others if they're being too rowdy. but he'll be extra super thankful and soft if you bundle him up and go for a walk with him around the block just to stretch his legs and get some fresh air cause you know how much he hates sitting around.

sorbet and gelato 🔪🍦

if one of them is under the weather, the house gets a brief respite from their antics cause you and the other one are there to entertain them and curb their restlessness. if they're both sick/injured, good fucking luck because their boredom will feed off each other and it will be a nightmare.

sorbet likes to chill but he always needs new surroundings. he'll want to stay on the couch to at least observe the house's regular chaos but if you (and maybe gelato) see that he's not getting enough rest you will have to literally drag him into your bedroom because 1) he's not letting go of his entertainment that easily 2) it's fun to watch you struggle. he is devising every way to cause problems on purpose without moving around too much

gelato HATES sitting still so he is slowly going insane and he will let you know it. get him a big stack of movies, let him have free reign of the tv, play cards with him etc if you know what's good for the whole house because otherwise he won't stay in bed or he'll do shit like scream for help just to see you rush in and then grin and be like oh nvm babe im fine :)

you thought they were a handful together regularly? HAH. when they're sick or injured together they enable each other even more than usual. you are the only one capable of placating them, enjoy being squished between your two extremely cuddly boyfriends.

cuddles and kisses and loving attention always make them feel better, a surefire way to get them to actually rest is by snuggling them. but even if you do go for a bit, what brightens them up is hearing about all the new happenings on base or this cute dog you saw or if you bring them new snacks every day or try making something different for dinner. like, not just to placate them, but cause you know they're bored and uncomfortable and you want to cheer them up, that's what gets them. and then they'll pull you down and hold you for the rest of the night.

#THIS WAS CUTE THANK U FOR THE ASK!!!!!#la squadra #la squadra x reader #risotto nero #prosciutto #pesci #formaggio #illuso #melone #ghiaccio #sorbet #gelato #vento aureo #ask

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warmau · 3 years

Text

a sinking feeling has you rooted to the floor. staring at the lock of your front door as someone knocks politely over and over again.

“what are you doing?”

your mother’s voice gusts past you like a breeze, she leans over your frozen figure and turns the knob.

you step back to avoid being hit by the door and dread the light that washes over your mothers face

“doyoung! come in!”

he steps through and all you catch is a bit of side profile, hidden behind the gigantic plant he’s holding

“oh! that’s the orchid your mother was just up in a fit about? come here sweetie, place it on the kitchen table -”

his footsteps echo and you shrink a little, he didn’t even look at me.

you’re thankful for your mothers insolent obsession with being a good host and trudge your way back to your room

doyoung is in your house.

which is weird, the first time he was in your house - you knew, obviously, but he was uninvited. your mother didn’t welcome him through the door.

now - for the past month - after both his mother and yours had come to a unbreakable bond over their indoor houseplants

doyoung has very much been a presence, an invited presence, a presence everyone but you seemed to be delighted about

“he’s such a nice boy, he’s spending his summers tutoring younger kids and i see him biking all around town.”

your mother gushes almost every time at dinner after doyoung leaves - delivering whatever ailing plant his mother has sent to yours to fix and play botanist with

you pick at your food

yeah, he’s a nice boy. that’s what makes this all so much worse.

now - you’re laying on your sheets with your hand on your stomach and staring up at the wall thinking very much the same thought.

he’s so nice, and so perfect, and everything anyone ever dreams of. why am i such an idiot for not wanting that?

you drum your fingers and again spiral back into the memory that keeps itself wedged between you and him like a piece of food that’s stuck so sternly between teeth, no pushing at it with your tongue helps.

summer starts in ten days, officially you know - by the university calendar. you’re supposed to be focusing on a final paper for some elective politics class you took, but you’re not. you’re staring at the back of doyoung’s neck. he sits in front of you for most lectures.

“hey, do you know anything about this military-first politics and nuclear armament essay prompt the professor gave us?”

doyoung turns slowly, blinking at you from behind his thin-wired classes, “yeah - it’s been the topic of discussion and reading for like a week.”

you know you sound kind of stupid to even ask - but you will admit, politics isn’t your thing and it seems to really be doyoungs - so you smile, with a please pity me kind of look in your eye. doyoung sighs, but he gets up and slides into the seat beside you - opening up the half blank word document on your laptop.

that’s it. that’s all it was going to be. doyoung helping you skid by, so that your summer isn’t ruined by a shitty grade.

but that’s not what happens. at all.

doyoung instead spends a lot of time helping you write a good enough paper to pull through a B-.

that means a lot of alone time in the library, in study hall, in the empty halls of the school buildings where classes have ended and no one is around.

it’s a lot of being shoulder to shoulder with him, realizing how nice he always smells - how long his fingers are when they type - how he doesn’t have a significant other because no one except his friends ever end up interrupting you.

it’s the day after you get your grades for the semester, something about getting the paper back sparks a fire in you

you scope doyoung out at the coffeeshop and exclaim that you and him did it!

a couple of heads whip around, did it?, you quickly add some mumbling about the paper.

doyoung laughs, it’s the first time you’ve heard the genuine sound, because most of the time he just makes a half-sided smirk or chuckle.

you buy him an iced latte as repayment and somehow end up walking out of there with side by side.

doyoung asks if you live near by if you don’t dorm, you say you do. he does too. that’s weird - you’ve never seen him around the neighborhood.

after that you pretend it’s a blur. because truth be told it isn’t.

you and doyoung are going to be taking the same train anyway, why not take it together. you and doyoung are going to know the same little places around town, why not talk about them.

why not? why not? why not?

why not invite him inside when you’re back in your hometown, why not lead him up to your room just so he can see it and why not kiss him when he leans over you.

people your age do it all the time, they hookup. that’s the only answer to that stupid hanging ‘why not?’

so when you felt doyoung’s fingers graze down your side and he’d clumsily gotten his glasses off just in time for you to pull his shirt up over his head

you were convinced it meant nothing. you were convinced he thought the same.

then it all happens and you can’t take it back.

especially not the part where you’re laying on your bed, just like you are now, waiting for doyoung to start gathering his things and instead a hand loops around your sweaty waist.

“aren’t you going to leave?”

the words blurt out of your mouth before you even think about it.

the tension that stalled in the room had been so horrible you swore you’d felt it seep into every pore, damn near trickling itself down the walls.

doyoung had darkened, pulled himself away from you, and disappeared before you could string together your next thought.

part of you had been relieved, the other part felt like the biggest asshole on the planet.

you were just grateful the rest of the summer could easily be passed by keeping away from each other - until your mother had found her new best friend.

downstairs you can hear doyoung shuffling around with your mothers plants, you can’t make out what they’re saying, but you’re sure your mother is inviting him to stay and eat with you. asking doyoung about his amazing future plans to become a lawyer. enthralled by everything he is as a child and that you, most likely, are not.

when he finally leaves and the commotions die down you can’t get up

this is the most confusing moment.

not the whole ignoring each other when he pops over, not the whole reliving the past from just a glimpse.

it’s why - when it happened, you had been so content with it just staying nothing - you had been the one to make that decision for the both of you

yet

why does it seem like you’re wallowing in it, clinging to it, imaging it all over

every time he comes over

because you didn’t just want a hook-up. you wanted doyoung and were playing it off because having a crush on him isn’t worth it right?

your mind coils itself through a storm

you thought he only wanted to sleep with you too, because the thought of someone as good as doyoung liking you just doesn’t make sense?

despite the summer heat, you feel cold

you��re not good enough to actually be liked, to be the person doyoung chooses for something more than just your-

your phone rings and you sit up so fast it gives you a headache, you feel around and bring it to your ear without checking the number

“hello?”

“our mothers are trying to set us up on a date.”

you want to be anywhere in the world, but here.

doyoung’s blank expression doesn’t let you know if he feels the same, but the way he won’t get in at least eight feet of you is telling enough.

you’re in his backyard, well technically you’re in his neighbors backyard, because he doesn’t want to be visible behind the hedges

rather be caught dead than be next to me, right?

you shrill at yourself and try to bury the wince you make internally

“i think you should just tell them you have another boyfriend.”

“i can’t lie to my mother.”

you start and doyoung watches you chew on your lower lip and retreat defensively a step back

“why not?”

“she’s noisy - she’ll find out. she’ll insist until i die to meet this ‘other boyfriend’. plus i’m not a good liar.”

“really? could have fooled me.”

doyoung straightens himself as he says that, eyes unblinking behind the frames of his glasses

i probably deserve that. well actually-

“doyoung, i never promised you anything when we-”

the words wilt and doyoung suddenly looks over his shoulder.

“you’re right, you never promised me anything. im the one who was a fool for ever thinking it was something.”

you look at the grass.

you wonder, if you had not said that one sentence - aren’t you going to leave - would this summer be different?

would you and doyoung be spending every second together, holding each other at the beach? kissing under the fireworks? sharing ice-cream and diving into pools filled of water and your laughter?

the thought blooms something in your chest

i wish - i wish it was that.

“you say i should lie, but you’re pretty good at it too doyoung.”

“excuse me?”

“it’s not like you - it’s not like you really wanted it to be anything more than it was.”

you think the grass is going to burst into flames with how hard you’re concentrating on it.

“what, you’re telling me-” you swallow “you’re telling me you actually wanted to be with me after? our mothers are trying to get us to go on a date and you called me out here just to avoid that.”

he leans forward

“if you are trying to make me the only guilty party here-”

he’s closer and you feel your voice shake a little, but you try to push to the end of your thought.

“im not, you never made any effort to make it seem like you had any genuine emotion so am i so wrong for just assuming it was just se-”

his hands, large and gentle, manage to find your shoulders and doyoung presses his lips to yours

you stiffen from the external shock, but then relax under the light grip

his breath smells sweet, like he’s been chewing bubblegum, he’s wearing the same cologne he does at university

“i don’t just sleep with people.”

he whispers against your mouth

“nothing against it, but i don’t think there’s a point to sharing something intimate with someone who i don’t want in every possible way.”

when you and doyoung agree to go on a date - both your mothers lose it. they’re convinced you’re soulmates.

although you and doyoung both agree they’re thinking way too far ahead in the future - it doesn’t mask the fact that the attraction that ends up forming between you two is undeniable

doyoung is so determined and intently goal orientated that you would think there isn’t the capacity to have fun in one bone in his body, but that’s not true

when he’s comfortable, he’s charming and full of humor - he makes you double over with laughter more than you could have imagined

and you aren’t as spacey and shy as doyoung might have assumed either, you have a competitive streak and you make doyoung feel like this is the summer of his life

the summer of his life that someone could probably make a decent coming of age film out of

he brings it up after you two exit a movie that was just about the same topic and you look down at your hands intertwined and shake your head

“no they’d never cast the right people to play us.”

doyoung sees the reflection of the milky way in your eyes, but he doesn’t say it

“no one on this planet is like you.”

he returns this sentiment with a small kiss that bumps this glasses against the bridge of your nose.

you get nervous sometimes when you think about how the summer started, it’s not like you’re living in the middle ages where intimacy is a sin before eternal commitment or anything

no you just get nervous because the reason you ever even made that situation as bad as it was, was because of your insecurity

does doyoung actually like me? did two weeks of being together at school make him realize something about me is worth it?

you can’t ask him that - even though sometimes you want to, so you can explain why you hadn’t just rolled over and nuzzled yourself into the dip of his chest

much like you do now - you fit so perfectly right between his arms

instead it sometimes gnaws at you until doyoung is cleaning his glasses over your sink and you’re sitting in the bathtub looking at him

your parents are ironically over at doyoungs for some wine party or whatever and although your mothers are in awe about you two being “a cute lil couple”

they see that - cute, part of it makes you snort. you and doyoung sometimes act more mature than they do.

“i always knew you were staring at me in lecture.” he starts and a little smirk pulls at his long lips

you flick some of the water at him and he leans against the counter

he doesn’t like baths, he prefers showers, but he still stays in the room with you when you take them

“i wasn’t staring at you.”

“you were staring at the back of my neck.”

you look away because fair, not like he spends a lot of time looking away from the professor.

“so i knew you liked me, or something about me. that’s why it hurt.”

“when we-”

“yes and i like being logical, so not having a real answer for why that all happened like it did still haunts me.”

he tilts his head and you see the line of his thin collarbones through his shirt

“i thought you’d say it first.”

he blinks

“i thought you’d say something like, that was cool. ill see you at uni come fall. and then leave. so i mean, i didn’t even say go leave - i asked, aren’t you going to leave?”

doyoung is smart so he gets what you’re saying in the most roundabout way possible

he walks over and squats down, leans over the ridge of the bath to kiss you and doesn’t complain when you bring your soapy hands up to cradle his neck

“im sorry i did leave, i should have just said what i felt right there.”

he mutters and you nod. you should have said it too.

when you and doyoung graduate and he goes on to law school and you start working, you almost break up - twice - because of the stress

but somehow neither of you can ever ask the other one

aren’t you going to leave?

because neither of you ever really wants to.

so you don’t, you stay through all the hardships, through every argument and bump in the road.

you stay, you choose to stay and so does he and you might not even fall asleep next to each other on some days but the heat of the person you love is always there.

and then doyoung gets his first big promotion at his job, runs all the way home with the news and ends up breathing hard and talking nonsense to you in your shared kitchen

“you need a shower.”

you say, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he shakes his head, no. he needs a bath.

you lean back against his chest, stronger and broader as he’s aged.

he looks down at you and even the eyebags that have gotten darker with all that work he does don’t do anything to make him less attractive

you peck his chin, because it’s what you can reach.

“if we sit here any longer we’re going to prune.”

“are you going to be the first one to leave?”

he asks and you shake your head.

you’ll sit here forever if that’s what it takes.

on the counter of the bathroom, there’s one of the houseplants your mothers keeps shipping to you.

you don’t notice that it’s the same orchid that doyoung carried into your house all those years ago, when you thought he hadn’t even looked at you when your mother opened the door.

he curls a strand of your wet hair around his finger.

he had looked at you, quickly, but he had done it.

even half covered by orchid leaves, you’d made his mouth dry.

“no seriously though - we will prune.”

“i’ll get up if you get up?”

i’ll never leave, the only way i’ll leave is if it means im taking you with me.

#im late..........dont look at me #happy late bday king #doyoung au #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #nct au #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct #doyoung #nct 127 #nct u #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 au #nct 127 scenarios #member: doyoung #kim doyoung au #nostolgic au #suggestive/

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hhjs · 3 years

Text

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary — Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

You accept it.

For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all.

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour. Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe. While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him.

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell.

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose. You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night. See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart.

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.” he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

“I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side.

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous.

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it.

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say.

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

—

Kiss underneath a mistletoe.

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right.

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different. Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

—

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh. Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you? "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know. Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

—

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear, "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

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anonymousfiction211 · 3 years

Text

A plaything

Summary:

You attend a feast in honour of Prince Thor. You are bored and plan to leave. However, Loki has different plans.

Word count:

2.771 words

Warning:

Swearing and shameless smut

You looked around the room, trying to find some entertainment. But this party was the same as any other party, celebrating the return of one of the princes. The whole ballroom was decorated extravagant with silver cloths, red curtains and multiple chandeliers that were hanging from the ceiling. It was all dressed in the colours of Prince Thor. You always preferred the gold and dark green, which were Prince Loki’s colours. But Thor had returned home from a battle and apparently him not dying needed to be celebrated by every noble family. Including the noble family, you belonged too. You did not attend these parties very often, since your family stood very low in the hierarchy. And even if your family did get invited, your parents would often go themselves. But tonight, happened to be their anniversary, so you offered to go for them instead.

The servants were currently clearing the last of the cutlery from the tables and pushing some tables around to make room for people to dance. You were still bored from the conversations you had to endure during dinner. It was always the same conversation, how other families were doing, if anything new happened (which was almost never) and praising the royal family for all they had done over the last time. You ordered another glass of wine, the open bar at these parties did make the whole thing slightly more bearable. Then you heard music playing and faced the dance floor to watch the opening dance. King Odin was dancing with his wife Frigga. After the dance ended more people made their way to the dance floor, while Odin and Frigga retreated. With that notion you decided to leave, when you had finished your drink. Since the king and queen left it would not be considered insulting to the royal family if you left early.

You started to down your drink. When your cup was empty you placed it back on the bar and gave the servant a genuine smile. Just when you turned around you heard him ask ‘Would you like another drink lady y/n?’. You turned back to decline the offer when you heard a low voice speaking ‘Yes she will, and I will have the same, please’. You annoyingly turned your head to see which guy had answered, when you saw Loki. Shit. You really wanted to go home but could not decline a prince. Argh.. just this one drink, which was already your fifth, stick to protocol, be polite and leave before you will do something stupid you thought. You quickly smiled at Loki ‘Thank you, my prince’. He gave you a quick smile back. ‘You are welcome, so what do you think of the celebration?’. You complemented the celebration, had the same sort of conversation you had with everybody else all night and drank your drink as fast as you could. When you finished your drink, you were about to excuse yourself and leave. That is when Loki extended his hand to you ‘Would you like to join me for a dance?’. The first thing you thought was I would rather do anything else right now, than dance with you. But you know you could not say that, so rather reluctantly you accepted his hand.

He led you to the dancefloor and he spinned and twirled you around. He did not say a word to you while you danced. He did keep his gaze on you the entire time. He moved gracefully and you started to admire some of his features. You were thankful when the dance ended, because now you finally had an opportunity to leave. ‘If you will excuse..’. But Loki cut you off and led you to a table with some snacks on it, and offered you one. Before you could finish it one of the servants had already brought the two of you a drink. At this point Loki was really getting on your nerves. You gave him one of your fakest smiles, hoping he will take the hint ‘My prince, it would be rude to deny your other guests to have the opportunity to talk to you tonight, it is already getting quite late and..’. He then cut you off again. ‘I find these events quite unbearable. Always the same dull conversations, nothing ever seems to happen. So, to get through them I like to find something to play with.’ You looked confused at him before saying ‘I am getting tired, I think I should leave early tonight’. He leaned a little closer to your ear and purred ‘You have been wanting to leave from the moment I saw you down your drink, but it can’t have my plaything leave early tonight’. He quickly took your hand and walked you over to the table where his brother was sitting with his friends. Before you could protest you heard him say ‘Thor, this is lady y/n, she is a little bored. Kindly take care of her, will you?’. And with that your evening was getting quite long. Thor made you play drinking games and told long stories about his battles. Every time you tried to leave Loki would suddenly show up with someone to talk to, dance with or with something to drink or eat. Every time he did you glared at him, which just made him smirk back at you. Bastard.

The evening would at least go on for another two hours, but you had far too much to drink. When Loki was nowhere to be seen you said goodbye to Thor and the rest of the table and left. You were relieved to be almost at the exit, but suddenly Loki appeared in front of you. To say he looked not amused, would be an understatement. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he growled. You took a step back, but he was already walking towards you. ‘I am going home, I wanted to leave for a very long time now. You’ve had your fun by torturing me all evening, now let me go home!’. Loki raised his hand and for a moment you thought he was going to slap you. Since you were being quite rude to royalty. Instead, he brushed your cheek with the back of his hand ‘But darling, you can’t leave until tomorrow.’ You sighed ‘And why not?’. He then looked at you with a dark look and grabbed your waist with both his hands ‘Because I am going to fuck you so hard you will not be able to walk until tomorrow.’ Hearing him say that in a lusty voice did something to you. Before you could answer you saw a green shimmer and you were not standing at the exit anymore.

He pulled you closer to him. He placed two of his fingers under your chin and made you look up at him. He closed the distant between your faces and his lips were now brushing yours. He did not break eye contact and his gaze softened a bit. You saw lust in his green eyes, and you swallowed in anticipation of what was to come. ‘May I?’ he asked. You nodded at him. He then pressed his lips against yours. Your lips move in sync with each other, like you have done this a hundred times before. He moved his hand from your chin to your neck to deepen the kiss. You felt his tongue against your lips, and you opened your mouth to let his tongue enter. Loki then started to kiss you more passionately, which made you moan. He broke the kiss and smirked at you. He put his hands on you butt and lifted you in one smooth motion. You squeaked a bit in surprise and instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. He started to walk with you and kiss your neck. The feeling of his lips on your skin made you breath faster. Then you felt his teeth sink into your flesh, just on the brink of pleasure and pain. You tightened his legs around him, making you feel his hardened cock through his pants.

He had walked you to his bed and laid you down on your back. He shimmered your clothes away and you lay naked before him. He took one of your nipples in his mouth and circled it with his tongue until it hardened. One of his hands was caressing the inside of your thighs. You quickly become a panting mess underneath him. He slipped one finger between your folds and felt how wet you already were. You moaned at the sensation. Loki suddenly stopped and looked deeply into your eyes. He takes his finger with your wetness on it in his mouth and started to suck it. The sight of him sucking his own finger made you tremble. You felt his knee lining up at your entrance putting a slight pressure on your clit. You let out a low moan and started to move your hips up and down, to create some friction. You grabbed his jacket and pulled it off. The fact that he was still fully clothed, was becoming frustrating. You desperately needed to feel him. But before you could undress him any further he grabbed your wrists with one of his hands, and pinned them above your head. He removed his knee and you whined at the loss of pressure on your clit. You felt your pussy throb, begging for attention, but Loki just grinned at you. ‘You’re an eager little thing, aren’t you? Look at my pants’. You looked down and saw a large wet stain at the part of his knee you rubbed your clit against. You started to blush.

Loki flicked his hand and you suddenly felt the touch of cool metal against your wrists. You looked up and saw your wrists handcuffed together. Attached to the handcuffs was a chain which was bound to the headboard of the bed. You heard him chuckle ‘I prefer to have both hands free, when I play with my toys’. Normally you would protest to any man who would do something like that without asking, but with Loki it was different. The fact that he was treating you like his personal toy to play with, was a real turn on for you. Loki moved to lay besides you. He had one hand supporting his head while his other hand was stroking your breasts. You felt your pussy throb harder and started to squirm at the feeling of his touch. He was watching how your body reacted to his touch. He slowly started to move his hand lower. ‘I must say that it was a pleasant surprise to see you tonight’. His hand was now on your hip slowly making circles. You felt the bedsheets underneath your pussy become damp. Your breaths were shallow and you mind was racing. You desperately needed relief. He moved his head to your ear, and his other hand grabbed your hair. He pulled on it slightly and you could feel his tongue stroking your earlobe ‘I noticed you a few feasts ago and ever since I saw you, I have not been able to put you out of my mind’. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue on your ear and bucked your hips in the hope he will touch your pussy. ‘I do admit that I tend to break my toys, but I am going to play with you for as long as I can’. He then put a finger on your clit and started to rub slow circles. He puts just enough pressure on it to feel him, but hardly enough to give you some form of relief. His touch was driving you crazy and you started to moan his name repeatedly. He removed his other hand from your hair and started to stroke your cheek.

Then there was a knock on the door. ‘Prince Loki?’. Loki looked annoyed and turned his face towards the door ‘Come in.’. A guard walked in and he froze for a moment before he regained his composure. Loki chuckled while he was still stroking circles around your clit. His other hand was brushing to your hair, like he was petting you. You could do nothing else than moan his name. You were hardly aware that there was a guard now watching you. ‘Ehm.. the feast is a- almost at an end and Prince Thor is requesting your presence to say goodbye to the remaining guests.’. Loki sighed and looked at you. Your eyes were closed and your whole body looked flushed and was moving ever so slightly. Loki saw just how desperate you were to come. ‘I’ll be there in five minutes’ Loki said to the guard. The guard then left as quickly as he could. You groaned ‘Please Loki, please. You can not do this to me, I need you’.

Loki pushed your legs open further and positioned his face right before your pussy. He hummed in approval. ‘I know darling, but I will not be gone long. Now you have been moaning my name so prettily, let us see if I can make you scream it’. Without a warning he pushed his tongue hard down on your clit and moved it up and down. Two of his fingers slipped easily inside of you and started to pump in and out of you. The wet sounds that were coming from this action sounded sinful to your ears. But all you could care about is the feeling of your orgasm building up inside of you. ‘I do only have 3 minutes left, so I need you to be a good girl and come for me. Now!’. The vibration of his words against your clit sends you over the edge and you screamed his name. His fingers started to pump slower and his tongue was now drawing slow long circles against your clit. He worked you through your intense orgasm and looked smugly at you, trembling, and still moaning his name softly. He brought his fingers to your mouth and you eagerly started to lick them clean. ‘Now, I will be gone for about 30 minutes.’. You looked at him with widened eyes. He then gave you a darkened look ‘But I’m far from done playing with you, yet.’

With his fingers now clean he stood up and grabbed his jacket, put it on and straightened the rest of his clothes. You started to tug at your handcuffs which made Loki chuckle. He then went to one of his cabinets, opened a drawer and pulled out a ball shaped like an egg. ‘You know what it is?’ You shook your head. He walked towards you and pushed the egg-shaped ball inside of you, which made you jolt. Then he showed you a remote in his hands. ‘Like I said, I will be back in 30 minutes. But you do know how I need something to play with during these tedious events.’ He pressed on a button and the egg-shaped ball started to vibrate. You gasped and started to squirm. Loki bent down to kiss you and you started to moan into the kiss. He then whispered in your ear ‘When I come back we’ll play some more before you break. In the meantime, you are not allowed to come until I get back. I want to watch as you come undone every time I let you. If you do come before I am back, I promise you that you are in for a rough night. Remember that right now, I am still going easy on you. Don’t worry the doors will be locked and no one else will be able to enter.’

He then stood up straight and started to walk towards the door. You were whimpering softly, trying to distract yourself. You were not sure if you could handle this vibration for so long, without coming. Plus, you did not know if you wanted to know what a rough night with Loki meant. The way he plays with your body was already hard to sustain. You heard him open the door and you looked at him. Just before he was through the door, he turned around to face you ‘Oh, one more thing darling..’ he shot you a wicked grin and you saw him push another button on the remote. The vibration increased, you let out a loud moan and arched your back. Already feeling your orgasm build up. ‘This is not even the highest setting’. And with that he left you to moan, squirm and wait until he gets be back.

#loki x you #loki #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #shameless smut

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

to know your enemy

Hange glanced at him briefly – Levi stood with his hands behind his back, his head raised up high. Their eyes met – just for a second – but it was enough to calm her nerves.

Captain Levi was not an ally, most certainly not her friend, but amidst all foes, he was the only thing that gave her comfort.

A citizen and a loyal soldier of a country that wanted her dead, Captain Levi was the sole source of light in her life during these dark times.

Or, a Marleyan!Levi au

The cell they’ve put her in was cold. The wall she was chained up to was damp. A pool of something sticky and putrid beneath her legs was making her nauseous. It had a characteristic metallic smell that after years of being a soldier Hange knew all too well. She hoped, at least, that the blood wasn’t hers.

A single torch, hanging on the wall outside, behind the metal bars, was the only thing illuminating the cell. It was dark inside, but not dark enough for Hange not to distinguish a figure, looming over her.

She recognized him right away.

“Commander Hange,” Floch curled his lips in a cruel, bloodthirsty smile. “It’s so good to see you here.”

“Ah, the pleasure is all mine!” Hange replied, looking so cheerful and relaxed, as though she was sitting behind the desk in her office back at home, not chained and locked up in the darkest, deepest cell of Marleyan prison. “You know, I always wanted to visit the country I’ve been fighting against for so long. And you provided me with a perfect opportunity to take a much needed vacation!”

“My god,” the smile slipped from his lips. Floch’s expression changed to that of a complete distain. “You really are insufferable. It isn’t a surprise that Eldians are losing in this war, if you’re their Commander.”

“My soldiers don’t really complain. Much,” she grinned, showing her bloody teeth. Despite her high status back in Paradise, her Marleyan captors weren’t gentle or cautious with her. She gave them all the reason for that kind of treatment. “But I guess you know it already. Not that long ago, you were one of my soldiers too."

Floch seethed. "And as a Commander, you’ve disappointed me."

"Aw, you poor thing," Hange cooed, angering Floch even further. “I’ve disappointed you? That’s why you’ve decided to betray your country and your comrades? That’s why, while fleeing, you’ve killed several of my men?”

“I did not betray you, I merely switched sides. Unlike you, I prefer to stick to the winning team.”

“Or you’re just a scumbag with no sense of loyalty.”

“Shut up!” Floch surged forward, grabbing Hange by the collar. “You, Commander, who is dooming your own people with reckless decisions, what do you know about loyalty?”

“Apparently she knows more than you do,” spoke a cold, indifferent voice.

It had an immediate effect on Floch. His face palled and his lower lip began to tremble. He bit it to hide his unease from Hange’s sharp eyes.

He didn’t release his hold on her collar, though, and continued to glare stubbornly at her.

“Floch,” the man stepped out of shadows. Hange swallowed as she watched him. He was short, but his face was menacing enough to more than make up for it. “Are you that slow? Do I really need to spell it out? Let Eldian Commander go.”

“But—”

“No buts,” the man growled. He grabbed the back of Floch’s shirt, yanking him back hard. “You weren’t even supposed to be here, so get the fuck out.”

It was obvious – Floch wanted to argue, but one look from his superior officer and he surrendered, taking a step back from Hange and letting her go. He gave her one last look, filled with hatred, and then left.

Like a dog with its tail between its legs, Hange thought with no small amount of amusement.

After Floch’s departure, she was left alone with the unexpected savior. Hange stared at him, warily, waiting for his next move.

He stepped closer to her, and her eyes widened in surprise, when he raised his hand to unlock her shackles.

“Um,” Hange scrunched her face in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You aren’t supposed to be here either,” the man explained with a roll of his eyes. “It was another one of Floch’s stupid stunts. This level of dungeon is made to hold rapists and murderers.”

A sparkle of curiosity ignited in the deepness of her honey brown eyes. Hange tilted her head, staring at the man beside her. “I’m sure most of your people would argue that I’m both.”

“I’m not most,” he scoffed. “And your crimes are not bigger than any of our soldiers.”

“Huh,” the last of her shackles fell down and Hange absentmindedly rubbed her freed wrists. “And here I thought that all Marleyans are pricks with a superiority complex. You proved me wrong,” she paused, not able to fight off a smile. “Captain Levi Ackerman.”

“So my reputation precedes me,” he sighed with a disgruntled expression. “Follow me,” he added, leading her out of the cell and down the dark, empty hallway. “And here,” he thrusted something in her hands. With a sense of bewilderment, Hange realized it was a handkerchief. “Wipe the blood off your face.”

“Oh,” Hange awkwardly chuckled. She could have used her own sleeve, but… it was kinda nice of him to offer. “Thanks. And about your reputation, yeah, you’re quite famous back at the island,” she easily fell into step with him. “Although, I admit it was hard to recognize you with all these scars.”

“That’s a courtesy of your soldiers and your deadly inventions, Commander.”

“You’re off from active duty, I take it? My men have a chance at winning this war then.”

“Had to step down from my position,” Captain said grimly. “My mother worried too much.”

“And they say Marleyans aren’t funny,” Hange opened her mouth, the cheerful laughter ready to bubble out of her throat, but then she stopped, gawking at the Captain. “Wait…” she asked cautiously. “You aren’t joking?”

“Marleyans aren’t funny,” he retorted in dead-pan voice.

This time, Hange did laugh.

“Here,” Captain led her into another cell. This one - sufficiently illuminated and with more than enough space to contain not only essentials, but a desk, a chair and even a bookshelf – was drastically different from the last.

“Wow,” Hange whistled. “This cell is almost as good as my office. Are Marleyans that welcoming to all of their prisoners?”

“Doubt you’d be feeling much at home here,” Captain Levi huffed. “Zeke is very eager to chat with you.”

“The infamous Zeke Yeager wants to talk with me? I’m impressed.”

"Just wait until he starts bragging about his royal heritage and other shit. You won't be that impressed after that."

"Well," with a grin, Hange plopped down on a bed that stood in the corner of the cell. Something was very, very wrong with her, but the company of Captain Levi was... actually enjoyable. "Will you be there to witness it?"

"A chance to see Zeke embarrass himself in front of an enemy war chief?" something that almost resembled a smile appeared on Captain's indifferent face. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, four-eyes."

***

“I’ve heard what Floch had done,” Zeke lowered his eyes and shook his head. Hange had to give it to him – he looked almost genuinely sincere. “He wasn’t acting on my orders, please believe me.”

“I know more than anyone how hard it is to rein in Floch. I took no offense, don’t fret.” Hange lifted a cup of tea Zeke brought her and looked at it skeptically. Then with the same expression of doubt, she turned her gaze back to him. “It’s safe to drink this, right?”

“Can I call you Hange?” Zeke asked. “I feel like we’re so alike, there is no need for titles.”

“Sure,” Hange shrugged. “Call me whatever you like.”

Zeke nodded, a pleased smile breaking on his face. “I would never scoop so low as to poison you, Hange,” he answered. “Meeting you is a great honor. I hope you enjoy this time as much as I do.”

Hange raised her gaze, looking over Zeke’s shoulder and exchanged a look with Captain Levi. He was wearing an irritated expression, and when their eyes met, he lifted an eyebrow, as though to tell Hange ‘I told you so’.

She hid a smile behind her cup.

“So what do you want to know?” she focused her attention back at Zeke. “The number of our troops? The location of strategic sights? How many times a day I take a shit?”

There was a sudden coughing sound, and as Hange looked up, she saw that Captain Levi turned around, his shoulders shaking slightly.

“I don’t think you understand the severity of your situation,” a smile slipped from Zeke’s lips. He obviously wasn’t as amused by her witty comeback as his Captain. “I may be kind and polite to you, but you’re still my prisoner.”

“And I don’t think you understand that I don’t give a fuck about that. Do whatever you like, Zeke. I won’t tell you anything.”

Zeke narrowed his eyes, glaring at her. “Enjoy your stay in Marley.” He declared between gritted teeth. “I’ll be seeing you again very soon.”

He rose to his feet, almost knocking a chair to the ground. Hange took a sip from her cup, watching how Zeke stormed out from her cell.

“Don’t take your eyes off her,” he instructed Levi. He muttered something else, something that sounded almost like a curse and then left.

“Wow.” Levi breathed out, when the sound of Zeke’s heavy footsteps disappeared. “I have to admit, you’re something else, four-eyes. I spent years, getting on his nerves, but five minutes with you? And he already calls ‘a fucking Eldian scum’? You’re force to be reckoned with.”

“And that was just our first meeting,” laying chin on her hand, Hange sighed dreamily. “What a nice guy. Can’t wait to see more of him.”

***

“Why are you here?”

Levi was leaning against the wall opposite from the cell Hange was contained to. As soon as the question left his lips, Hange looked up, closing the book she was reading.

An amused grin spread on her lips. “I’m sort of a prisoner here, didn’t you know?”

“I didn’t mean that,” Levi rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step closer. “How did you get here? How did you get captured?”

Hange frowned, scratching her head. “Haven’t you read the report?”

Levi did, more times that he could count. He read it again and again, trying to piece together the reasons for Hange’s behavior. Trying to understand why did she act the way she did.

“Ship Wings of Freedom was spotted near Marleyan borders.” Levi effortlessly recited the beginning of report. “According to the statement from Eldian Commander Hange Zoe, they were trying to launch a surprise attack at Odiha port. The ship was ambushed before Eldians could charge an assault. The only person, who was discovered at the ship’s board and, subsequently captured, is Hange Zoe, war chief and main engineer of Paradise Island.”

“So you did read it, huh?”

“Obviously, you couldn’t be the only person on that ship.” Levi contemplated aloud. “And that means you let your soldiers escape. Why did you stay behind?”

“Someone had to create a diversion,” Hange explained so easily, as though it was a simple, trite matter and not something Levi was obsessing over ever since she was placed under his care.

“Anybody could have done it,” Levi moved closer, touching the metal bars of the cell with his chest. His cold grey eyes bored into Hange. Perhaps, if he looked hard enough, he’d be able to see it. He’d be able to understand her. “Certainly, there were other less valuable soldiers than you.”

“Exactly. I was the most valuable one. And that meant your men would think twice before killing me.”

“You stayed behind… let us capture you, because… you wanted to save your squad?”

"Well, when you put it like that..." Hange giggled, a little embarrassed. "It sounds like I'm the worst Commander ever."

She couldn't have been further from the truth. In his life as a soldier, Levi had seen his fair share of Commanders. Some were awful, while some were much better. And, as far as he could judge, Hange was the best of them all. With just one act, she showed Levi what a real Commander must look like. Self-sacrificing, fearless and loyal not only to the country they’ve served, but to their soldiers as well.

If only things were different, Levi couldn't help but think, I would have happily followed you.

"Don't you regret it?" he asked. "Leaving your soldiers without your guidance?"

"They'll manage," Hange said without an ounce of incertitude in her voice.

"You're so confident in your subordinates?"

"They're the best of the best," a proud smile curled at her lips. Hange sat back in her chair, putting hands behind her head. "Just wait until they regroup. Mark my words, Captain. They’ll crush Marley in to time."

Marley had the biggest army in the world. They had the most advanced technology. They’ve conquered several countries. They were considered an indestructible, imperishable Empire.

And if there was anyone who could stand a chance against his motherland, Levi was sure - this fit could be achieved exclusively by the soldiers who were trained and tutored by Commander Hange Zoe.

"All this bragging about your squad," a smirk pulled on Levi's lips, amusement painting his usually stoic features. "Are you trying to recruit me, Commander Hange Zoe?"

"Why," Hange gave him a sly grin, raising her eyebrow. "Is it working?"

Levi snorted. "You have to do better than that to sway me, Commander."

"Ah, a shame," she giggled. "We could have used your skills, Captain."

"Need I remind you that you don't have an army right now?"

“It’s true, I don't. Right now. But who knows what is going to happen next?"

There was a small, but enigmatic smile on her lips, and fire inside her eyes burned brighter than the torch he was standing next to. Her expression made Levi realize that not all prejudices about Eldians were wrong. Hange proved that the old Marleyan saying - Eldians always have a trick up their sleeves – could actually be true.

It was obvious that she had some kind of a plan. And it was obvious that she was confident in its success. Rooting for her was wrong, some could even interpret it as treason.

And yet— a part of him hoped that she – and her people – would succeed.

***

Levi unlocked the door, stepping inside. The moment he crossed the threshold, a pair of gentle arms wrapped themselves around his neck.

"Levi," his mother pressed him tightly to her chest. "Welcome home."

"Sorry for being late," he whispered gruffly. He pressed his face into her neck, inhaling the familiar and dear scent of chamomile and lavender. "I had so much paperwork, I was practically swimming in it."

"My poor boy," Kuchel ruffled his hair and took a step back, releasing him from her embrace. "Take off your shoes and go wash your hands. I'll heat up dinner for you."

"Thanks," Levi said, shrugging off his formal coat and undoing his tie. As he stripped his uniform, breathing came a little easier.

"So?" Kuchel put a plate with broth in front of Levi and sat down next to him. "Is it true? Did they really capture Eldian Commander?"

"Yeah," Levi nodded, after he swallowed the first spoon of broth. "I've been assigned to watch over her."

Kuchel perked up. "And? Is she as terrible as they say?"

"No." Levi held the spoon a little tighter. He pursed his lips, staring in his plate with a faraway look. “She’s not terrible at all. Quite the contrary. I know that it’s wrong but… I think she’s a good person.”

"Eldian Commander?"

"Yes. Hange. She's my enemy, I know that. And I know that I must despise her, but... She's so good, mom. She's brave and she cares about her people, and... I can't help but think if this," he gave a vague gesture, "our lives - would have been better if people like Commander Hange were in charge. It makes me think… maybe, Kenny, that old bastard, was right."

"Honey..." Kuchel lovingly patted his cheek and exhaled, her beautiful grey eyes filling with sadness at the mention of her late brother. "During times like this, it’s hard to know what’s wrong and what’s right. Isn’t it wrong to kill people? Isn’t it wrong to hate an entire nation just because we don’t share the same name? They’re people just like us. Just like us, they can be good or bad. It's easier to hate them, to see them as monsters that need to be slayed. Doesn't mean that it's true. And if you see your enemy as someone worth of admiring, if you can forget about you differences and see just another person, isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t it something we should aspire to? You’re a kind and good man, Levi. And if there were more people like you… maybe, we wouldn’t be fighting this war at all.”

Silence fell over the small kitchen room. Levi thought about his mother’s words, he tried to imagine a world she was talking about. A better, kinder world with no hatred and prejudices. A world, where peace and happiness were more prevalent than war, starvation and poverty.

A world like this would have been nice. But sadly, it was nothing more than utopia.

“Well, that was enough philosophical monologues for one evening!" Kuchel chirped, jumping to her feet. "Quickly, eat the broth before it gets cold. I'll brew you a cup of tea in the meanwhile."

Levi complied, diving into his dinner. From the corner of his eyes, he continued watching his mother move around the kitchen. She stood on her tiptoes, reaching out to the higher shelf. As she did so, the sleeve of her dress rolled up, revealing an ugly, purple bruise around her wrist.

He was by her side in an instant.

"What is this?" he hissed, carefully lifting her arm. Kuchel looked at him, her eyed widening in alarm. "What is this?" Levi repeated, even though he already knew the answer.

"Honey-"

"Did that bastard do it?" he let go of her hand. His anger was growing and he didn't want his mother to become an accidental victim of it. He turned around and started to pace around the room. "I'll go to him." He declared, his whole body shaking with rage. He spoke quietly, but every word was filled with cold, merciless fury. "I'll kill that scumbag with my bare hands, I'll make him regret ever touching you."

"Levi!" Kuchel rushed to him, cradling his face in her palms. "Levi, calm down. This was just an accident. He apologized and it would never happen again, I swear."

In the arms of his mother, Levi's fury had lessened. He stared at her, as another feeling took its place instead of anger. The feeling of helplessness and despair.

"You can't continue seeing this bastard,” he said, almost pleading. “He hurts you, and I can't watch it happen."

"My boy," Kuchel kissed his forehead. "My Levi, we don’t really have a choice, remember? But, please, don’t worry about me, I’m doing alright. As long as you're with me, everything is going to be just fine."

"That was the last time," Levi promised, the fire returning to his gaze. "It was the last time he hurt you. General or not, if he ever does it again, I'll kill him. I'll kill him even if that would be the last thing I do. I won't let anyone make you suffer."

“Levi…” Kuchel sighed, quietly and warily. She lowered her hands and turned away, hiding the pain inside her eyes from Levi. He watched her back, his chest tightening. In that moment, his mother looked so small, so fragile. Levi despised the man who made her feel this way and his uncle, who put them into this mess. He despised their world for making her suffer so much.

And more than anything, he despised himself for not being able to protect her.

***

Hange's next meeting with Zeke was vastly different from the first. Instead of a small, suffocating cell, it was conducted in a large, spacious room with big windows and high ceilings.

And as Levi had led her inside, she was astonished to see that Zeke wasn't alone. The other generals - probably the entire main body of Marleyan brass - were waiting for her arrival.

All these attention to the little, insignificant her? And they say Marleyans aren't charming...

“Gentleman!” she greeted with a blindingly bright smile on her lips. There was a chair in the middle of the room, and she plopped down on it, still wearing the same happy expression. “Good day to all of you!”

Levi took his place just behind her shoulder. Hange glanced at him briefly – he stood with his hands behind his back, his head raised up high. Their eyes met – just for a second – but it was enough to calm her nerves.

Captain Levi was not an ally, most certainly not her friend, but amidst all foes, he was the only thing that gave her comfort.

A citizen and a loyal soldier of a country that wanted her dead, Captain Levi was the sole source of light in her life during these dark times.

“So?” Hange put hands on her knees, her gaze studying each member of Marleyan brass carefully. “What did you call me here for?”

“I’m sure you already know,” Zeke, who sat at the center of the table, took the word. He seemed more controlled than during their last meeting, and a confident smile has returned to his lips. “We haven’t finished our earlier conversation.”

Hange arched an eyebrow. “Still interested in my shitting techniques?”

“No.” Zeke answered grimly. A few surprised chuckles came from his colleagues around the table, and Hange could almost hear the sound of his teeth gritting against each other in frustration. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

“We are more interested in other aspects of your job,” a man that sat next to Zeke spoke. “My name is Winston Greeves, it’s nice to meet you, Commander. Now,” he leaned closer, prepping his chin with his hand. “Is there something you wish to tell us? Something related to the state of your troops, perhaps?”

Hange lifted her head and tapped her lower lip with a finger. “Is there something that I wish to tell you…” she murmured pensively. “I guess I can tell you how much I’ve been enjoying your country and your hospitality...”

“Again, that’s not exactly what we want to hear ,” Greeves said, and the easy smile that was plastered on his face just moments ago became a little too tight around the edges.

“I would stop this farce, if I were you,” Zeke spoke again, his voice low and almost growl-like. “Unlike your barbaric, primitive island, Marley is a civilized nation, but that doesn’t mean we’re above using techniques that would undoubtedly untie your tongue.”

“Was that supposed to frighten me?” Hange asked with a bored, unimpressed look. She took off her glasses, wiping them with the sleeve of her shirt and looking at Zeke beneath her eyebrows. “Do better next time, Zeke. You think that threats would work on me? You think that promise of pain would make me submit? You think that there is anything you can do to me that will make me betray my own country? I surrendered willingly to you, idiots, I knew exactly what was going to happen to me. And I knew that I wouldn’t be getting out of it alive.”

“You’re right,” Zeke nodded. “You won’t survive. You will die, Hange Zoe. You will die regretting your loyalty and devotion. You will die, but not before you spill out to me every last one of your secrets.”

“Till our next meeting,” he promised darkly, gesturing Levi to take her away.

***

"Zeke's nice guy persona is slipping," Hange muttered, as Levi led her back to her cell. "I wonder what this sudden urgency is all about..."

Levi pursed his lips, thinking. He probably shouldn't say this to Hange. It was classified information, known only to the highest members of brass. If anyone finds out that he revealed it to Hange, without a doubt, he'd join her in that cell. And that's in the best case scenario.

On the other hand, there was no one Hange would pass this information onto. Telling it to her would have no consequences whatsoever.

Levi had decided. He turned to face Hange, but before his mouth could start forming words, a familiar smell entered his nostrils.

Chamomile and lavender.

He whirled around. General Greeves himself was standing behind him.

"Ackerman," he spat, barely looking at him. "We need to talk."

"Can't it wait?" Levi didn't bother to hide irritation from his voice. "I have to take care of the prisoner."

"The Eldian can wait." Greeves scoffed. "It's not like she can escape. Leave her and follow me."

Levi glanced back at Hange. She was looking right at him, her head tilted to the side, watching the exchange intently. There was a curious spark in her eyes and something else, something that looked almost like... concern? Whatever it was, Levi had no time to decipher that.

"I'll be right back," he told her curtly and followed after Greeves.

***

"Is your mother free this evening?" Greeves bluntly asked the second they were out of Hange's earshot.

"She is not," Levi said lowly. He looked at Greeves and all he could see was the frail pale wrist of his mother that was painted in mix of purple and dark yellow. It took all of his willpower and then more not to latch onto Greeves' neck and kill the bastard with his own hands.

"Then make sure she is." Greeves snapped. "And wipe that scowl from your face, boy. Or do you need reminding just how much I’ve done for you?"

Levi said nothing, just glared at Greeves from beneath his fridge.

Greeves looked around, the hallway was empty save for Hange, but he cared not for her. He grabbed Levi by the collar of his uniform, his hold strong enough to lift him off the floor.

"You have the gall, Ackerman," he hissed right into his face. "You, who got from me an apartment in the center of a capital and a fancy title of a Captain. Do you think I won't take it away from you? Do you think your mother is that good that I won't throw you out on a street? Or I can do much, much worse," a malicious smile spread on his lips, as he stared down at Levi as though he was nothing. "I can reveal a little secret. I can tell everyone that the dreaded Kenny the Ripper was actually an uncle of the brave and great Captain Levi Ackerman. Do you want me to do that, hm? Do you want the whole world to know that you were raised by a traitor? Do you want to repeat his fate alongside your dear mother? Believe me, getting lynched on the street is not the best way to go. So stop with attitude and be a good boy, understand?" Levi kept his silence and, furious, Greeves violently shook him. "I asked - do you understand?"

Levi thought of saying no. He thought of throwing the bastard's hands off him and punching him in the face. He thought of taking his gun out, of shooting him right in the center of that ugly, narrow forehead of his and watching life leave his eyes. His hand twitched.

But then he thought of his mother, of what they would do to her if he decides to succumb to his rage, of how many bruises would appear on her body after that.

He met Greeves's eyes and nodded.

"Use your words, brat."

Fury spiked inside him again, threatening to bubble out of his chest, his muscles, his bones and unleash itself onto his enemy.

He closed his eyes for a second, and the face of his mother appeared behind his eyelids. He saw her beautiful eyes, her tired but gentle smile.

"Yes." He said, his voice loud and clear. "I understand."

"Atta boy," Greeves smiled and roughly pushed him away, making Levi stumble. "Tell your mother my shift ends at seven. And I hope it goes without saying that you better not show your face while I'm there. Dismissed, Captain."

Greeves left after that, humming under his breath. It took Levi a couple of minutes to calm down. He stood frozen in place, breathing heavily as though he had just finished a marathon. He was so angry, his vision clouded. He saw nothing but blood. He wished for nothing but violence.

A careful, warm hand on his shoulder broke him out of his trance. He whirled around and was met face to face with none other than Commander Hange Zoe.

"Are you alright?" she murmured softly. The concern in her eyes was more prominent now. He stared at her for a second, wondering what was wrong with her. How much kindness was stored in her heart if she had enough to spare even for her enemy.

Well, he thought bitterly, it was her kindness that had led her there, to Marleyan prison and straight into Zeke’s arms.

In their world, it was best not to care at all. If only he knew how to do that, he lamented as the disquieted expression on Hange's face insistently tugged at his heart.

"Worry about yourself, four-eyes," he tore his eyes away from, putting on the familiar mask of cold asshole and trying to convince himself that that's what he really was. "Let's go, your cell awaits you."

***

When he came home that night, two hours after midnight his mother was already asleep. Or, at the very least, she appeared to be. The door to her room was closed and the house was dark. He approached it nevertheless, his hand touching the wooden surface. He almost knocked, but stopped himself before his hand curled into fist. He ached to know if she was alright, but he already knew that she wasn't, and going inside would only make all of it worse.

The world they live is cruel, he reminded himself, as he turned away and headed to his room. He tore off his uniform, kicking it in the corner.

He lay in his bed, fighting back tears. Fury and sorrow mixed in his mind, as he thought what his mother had to endure today, as he remembered that there was nothing he could to cease her suffering.

Their world was cruel, he remembered, and the only thing they could do is try to survive.

***

Levi took the next day off.

He woke up with the first rays of sunshine and quietly made his way to the kitchen. He cooked breakfast for his mother and then went out to the market to buy her flowers and pastries. He returned back home and went to wake her up.

The smile she gave him at the sight of fresh flowers and warm meal was enough to make him forget about his troubling thoughts.

"Let's take a walk," he offered after the breakfast was over and he dealt with the dishes.

His mother put on one of her best dresses. She let her hair down, and, as she put her arm through Levi's, a small, but endlessly happy smile curved at her lips.

"Shall we?" he asked after he put on his hat.

Kuchel giggled, covering her mouth with a palm, a picture of elegance. She made a small curtsy and murmured. "After you, my dear." The stroll through the park was nice.

They walked around for a bit, and then, when Levi's injured leg started to ache in protest, they sat down on a bench, enjoying the warm weather in the shadow of a big tree.

Knowing his son's quiet nature, Kuchel took it upon herself to fill the silence. She spoke about birds and how prettily they were singing, gushed over children that were running around and waxed poetic about trees, flowers and how beautiful they looked in the spring.

She was just telling Levi how much she enjoyed the smell of cherries when they're in bloom, when he saw one cheery petal fell down. It landed on Kuchel, tangling in her luscious, black hair.

Levi reached out to take it out and realized - it was time. He had to speak with his mother, had to tell her everything that's been on his mind.

"Mom," he began, looking her in the eyes. "Listen—"

"Shh," Kuchel pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Levi, don't. I know what you want to say, and I'm asking you - don't. Our situation isn't the best, I can't deny it. But it's better than the fate your uncle has suffered. We're both still alive, we're still together. I can still be your mom, can welcome you home from work and take walks with you in the park. And that's more than enough for me. So," she pushed the hair away from his forehead and leaned in, leaving a kiss on his forehead. "Let's just enjoy this moment. Sometimes it's all we can do, my dear."

Something in the tone of her voice, the way she didn't look in his eyes evoked a feeling of dread inside him. It brought Levi unprompted desperation. He took his mother's hand in his and gripped it just a little tighter than usually.

Enjoy the moment, he repeated to himself, sometimes that's all we can do.

***

Levi returned to work the next day— and regretted ever leaving his post.

A couple of plates stood next to the Hange's cell, all of them untouched.

Hange herself wasn't in her usual spot, sitting behind the desk with a book in her hands. She was lying on the bed, facing the wall.

Levi swallowed and unlocked the door, stepping inside.

"Hey," he called softly, hoping that Hange just decided to take a nap and didn't hear him approach. She didn't respond. "Hey, it's me," he tried again, but received no answer once more.

His stomach fell as he thought about the reasons for her silence.

He hurried to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder. It was still warm. Levi let out a barely audible sigh of relief. Still warm meant still alive.

He shook her. "Get up, four-eyes."

"No," came her curt reply. Her voice was gruff, almost lifeless. Hearing it broke something in him.

Levi looked at Commander Hange, thinking what to do. Then he saw it - red seeping through the yellow of her shirt.

Zeke's methods in action, he thought grimly.

He turned around and marched out of the cell. With hurried steps, he went into infirmary and grabbed a med kit.

Commander Hange wasn't going to die. Not on his watch, at least.

"Get up," he ordered once he was back in her cell.

"No."

"Get up," he repeated, kicking the leg of the bed. "Right fucking now, four-eyes, those wounds of your need dressing."

A short laugh escaped from her lips. It was bitter and devoid of any mirth. "Why do you, of all people, worry about me?"

"I don't," Levi easily retorted. "But your people do. They want to get you back. It'd be a shame if their loyalty would result in nothing because you got too tired to continue fighting."

"Don't lecture me. What do you, Marleyan, know about my people?"

"More than you do, apparently."

That finally got her to face him.

The sight of Commander Hange almost made him choke. Her face was a mess, what was not bruised was covered in blood. Her nose looked broken and her right eye was swollen.

He felt bile rise to his throat as he continued to stare at the results of Zeke's desire to win this war.

"What do you mean?" Hange asked, her voice wary. Life slowly started to return to her eyes. “Do you know something?”

"Not much," Levi shrugged. "But there had been reports about suspicious activity on the south borders. They think your guys are getting ready to attack. That's why Zeke is so impatient to get information out of you."

Zeke was scared shitless. All of them were. Marley was an imperishable Empire who was involved in too many wars. They didn't have enough people to defend themselves in case of the attack on their land. With most of their soldiers fighting and conquering in countries far away, if Paradise attacks, they'll be practically defenseless.

"So quit moping," he told Hange. "Let me fix your wounds and then I'll bring you more food. Save your strength, four-eyes. Don't let your soldiers down."

"Has anyone ever told you you're quite rude, Captain?"

"More times that I could have count, Commander. Now, quickly, turn around and take off your shirt. We'll deal with the wounds here first."

"Bossy, aren't we?" Hange huffed, but complied and started to unbutton her shirt.

As she pushed the yellow cloth down, revealing her bare shoulders and back, Levi sighed in relief. The wounds there weren't as severe as he had expected.

Still, severe or not, the injuries had to be cleaned and dressed. Levi set out to work.

The touch of disinfectant to her bare skin made Hange hiss, but she didn't recoil. A soldier through and through, Levi noted with a growing sense of admiration.

"You weren't here yesterday," Hange spoke, her voice shaking slightly. "What were you doing?"

"Went to a park."

"Oh," Hange turned her face to the side, looking at him curiously. "Did you take Missus Ackerman with you?"

"Miss Ackerman," Levi corrected. "My mother."

“Interesting,” she hummed, biting her thumb. “So Marley’s strongest soldier is actually a momma’s boy?”

“Thinking of using it against me, Commander Hange?”

“You know what they say,” she shrugged, a smile pulling at her lips. It suited her a lot more than the pathetic expression from earlier. “All’s fair in war.”

“You’re cruel.”

“I’m effective.”

“And very annoying,” Levi scoffed, taking a step back. “Put on your shirt and turn around. I need to take care of the mess on your face now.”

“Why are you helping me?” Hange wondered, as Levi inspected her wounds, holding her chin in his hands.

“I’m not,” Levi answered, his gaze focused on the cut on her eyebrow. “I’m a loyal soldier of my country.”

“So by taking care of me…”

“I’m making sure that you live on. So you could reveal more information to us.”

The lie slipped easily from his lips. So easily that Levi almost began to think that it was the truth.

Commander Hange Zoe, however, wasn’t so effortlessly convinced.

“And yet you haven’t asked me a single question, Captain.”

“Levi,” he grunted, as he started to gently wipe the blood from her forehead.

“What?”

“Call me Levi.”

“Oh.” She looked down for a second, mumbling something under her breath. Her voice was too quiet, but Levi thought that she was mouthing his name. Then she raised her eyes and met his. A soft smile was playing on her lips. “Then you should call me Hange.”

“Nah,” he said, desperately trying to fight back a smile. “Four-eyes suits you much better.”

***

A week later the news came.

The base in Lago, where the main body of their navy was located, was destroyed. No survivors. No witnesses.

A banner of Wings of Freedom that was now fluttering in the wind at the top of the once great Lago base was enough of a clue, though.

The pride of Marley, the fear of dozens of their enemy nations, Lago base was thought to be indestructible. Just like Marley itself.

A week later the news came. The next day, Commander Hange Zoe lost an eye.

***

“Stop it with that face.”

“What face?” Levi tore his gaze away from the bloodied mess and a lifeless white that once had been a lively, rich brown color.

“That face. Stop looking so angry. Or I will start thinking that you care.”

Hange lifted a finger, and then— before Levi could react – slap her hand or push her away – she bopped his nose. He blinked and looked down. He didn’t know what face he was making right now, but it had Hange snickering.

“That’s better,” she declared.

“Idiot,” Levi scoffed and turned away, fumbling with the med kit he had brought. He was more than familiar with its contents by now, having regularly used it to treat her wounds, but he felt the need to keep himself busy, and, more importantly, keep himself facing away from Commander Hange. If she had noticed the flush on his face, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. “Of course, I do care. Your wound is bleeding. It ruins the sheets, you know.”

“Ah,” Hange nodded. “That is a serious problem.”

“More than you know. I wash those sheets, if you didn’t know.”

“You do? The great Captain Levi washes the sheets of a mere Eldian prisoner?”

“No one else wishes to do it. And I can’t stand that reek.”

“Oh god,” her remaining eye lighted up, as though Levi has just said the most wonderful thing she had ever heard. “I can’t believe it, Captain Levi Ackerman, the fear of all Eldians,” she paused dramatically, an amused smile playing on her lips. “Is actually a clean freak.”

Levi arched an eyebrow, giving the most unimpressed look he could muster. “Has anyone told you’re very stupid?”

“Never,” she confessed proudly. “I’m actually considered one of the smartest people in Paradise.”

“Makes sense then, why you’re losing this war.”

“Ouch,” Hange winced. “That actually hurt.”

“Speaking of pain…” Levi took a cloth dapped in antiseptic into his hand and grabbed Hange by the chin. “Let me take a look at your eye.”

In his years as a soldier, Levi had seen his share of injuries. But he had never got used to it. The sight of broken bones and lacerated skin, of blood seeping through uniform and sinking in between trembling fingers, it was a sight he just couldn’t get accustomed to, no matter how hard he tried and no matter how many battles he had witnessed and survived.

The wound that he was now seeing on the face of Hange Zoe wasn’t an exception. Looking at the cut running through her eye, the eye that was always filled with so much life and emotion, he felt sadness sip deep into his heart.

“Not as handsome as I was before, eh?” Hange lowered her voice to a quiet murmur, and when he glanced down at her face, he saw that she was wearing a hesitant expression.

“Nonsense,” Levi shook his head, chasing away his troubling thoughts, and began to wipe the blood away from her face. “Who told you were handsome before?”

“You are even snarkier than usual today.” Hange noted, her only eye looking at him closely. “Is there a reason for it, I wonder?”

“Who did this?” Levi asked. “Zeke?”

The hold he had on her jaw tightened ever so slightly, as he fought to conceal his anger. Thankfully, Hange didn’t comment on it.

“No. This little monster I had created myself.”

“Floch,” Levi guessed instantly. Of course, how he could forget about that damned bastard. “Well, if it gives you any consolation, Zeke isn’t having the time of his life either.”

“Oh?”

“Lago base was attacked, and, subsequently, destroyed.”

“Oh…” Hange bit her lip, a cautious and almost worried expression on her face. “And the attackers…”

“Were never found. The only thing that was discovered is the banner of Wings of Freedom.”

“Huh,” a wide, excited grin spread on her lips. “A stealthy approach then. Definitely one of Armin’s ideas.”

Levi kept his silence, continuing to work on her wound.

“What,” Hange playfully kicked his leg. “You’re not going to ask who that Armin is? His full name? His rank?”

“I’ll leave the interrogation stuff to Zeke,” Levi pursed his lips, the disgust showing at his face at the thought of the bearded jerk. “My job is cleaning up his messes.”

“And looking after me,” Hange said with a soft look in her eye. “You’re such a good man, Levi. So kind to me…”

“It’s not kindness,” Levi scoffed, doing his best to remain nonchalant and hide his discomfort. “Just basic human decency.”

“You think I deserve it?”

You deserve it more than most, he wanted to say.

“Why wouldn’t you deserve it,” he answered instead. “You’re a human too, aren’t you?”

Hange chuckled, the sound quiet and bitter. “Most of your countrymen would disagree.”

“I told you already. I’m not the most.”

“But you’ve told me something else too,” Hange argued. She lifted her hand and traced the line from his cheek to his mouth. “These scars… you said they were caused by the weapon I created. Don’t you hate me for that?”

“No.” Levi echoed. “You’re not at fault here. The war is.”

Hange fell silent after that, lost in her thoughts. To an accompaniment of her shallow breathing and infrequent hisses, Levi finished tending to her injury. He cleaned the wound, did his best to stitch the cut skin together and then dressed it in a white gauze.

When he was tying the ends at the back of her head, Hange softly touched his arm.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For making survival just a bit easier for me.”

Levi looked into her eye, swept his gaze across all of her face and body, carving it to his memory, and nodded.

He turned around then and left her cell. As he walked through the empty, ill-lit hallways, he thought if Hange was able to understand, if she could see in his eyes that he was grateful to her for all the same reasons.

***

“Captain.”

Without asking for permission, without waiting for an invitation, Zeke waltzed inside Levi’s office, plopping down on the chair beside his desk.

“I came to talk with you,” he announced, that infuriating smile plastered to his lips. “Do you have a moment?”

“For you, Zeke?” Levi made sure to put as much sarcasm and distain in his voice as it was possible. “Always.”

“Excellent!” Zeke eagerly clasped his hands together. He either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care enough to respond to Levi’s taunting. “I wanted to discuss with you the infamous Commander Hange.”

His stomach fell as those words left Zeke’s mouth. Whatever he was going to say next, Levi was sure he wouldn’t like it. He didn’t let any of his anxiety show at his face, though, and so Levi nodded, prompting Zeke to continue.

“She’s a tough nut to crack, and as you’re well aware, we’re losing our precious time. We need to get at least something out of her, or the whole country is doomed.”

“And how is that my problem?” Levi lazily inquired. “Torturing people isn’t one of my responsibilities.”

“I’m not asking you to torture her, I doubt you can do that,” Zeke said it flippantly, like an after-thought. But his eyes stared at Levi intently, gauging his reaction. “But she trusts you. And I need you to exploit it.”

“Trusts me?” Levi scoffed, genuinely surprised by Zeke’s assertion. “We’re talking about Eldian Commander, do you think she’d be stupid enough to trust me?”

“You’re closer to her than any of us,” Zeke protested, serious, despite his ridiculous claims.

“So what?” Levi sat back in his chair, crossing hands on his chest and staring at Zeke with a deep frown on his face. “She lets me dress her wounds. That doesn’t mean she trusts me.”

“On the contrary. That’s exactly what it means. Do you think I’m such a barbarian, Levi?” Zeke asked, before Levi could continue protesting. “Do you think I have not offered to take care of her wounds? She laughed at me and then spat in my face.”

Despite his best efforts, Levi’s lips twitched as he fought back a smile. If only he could see it… The expression Zeke made in that moment, it was probably the one of pure disgust and hatred. Levi had spent years trying to make Zeke look at him like that.

Truly, Commander Hange Zoe was something else.

“Talk with her, Levi,” Zeke ordered, his voice tainted with anger at the sight of Levi’s clear amusement. “Do your country a service. Or else I’m going to dig deeper into the reasons of why Commander Zoe trusts you so. You wouldn’t want to become second Kenny the Ripper, would you? Your mother wouldn’t be able to take it. So think of her, if the loyalty to your country isn’t enough to motivate you.”

Without waiting for Levi’s reply, Zeke stood up and headed to the door.

“I hope you’ll make the right choice,” he said at last, and then disappeared behind the door, leaving Levi alone.

***

Another week passed, and all the main forces of their army were brought in to the capital. The brass looked at the young, but worn-out faces, at the once strong bodies that were now claimed by exhaustion and traumas, and realized – they had no army.

Their unwinnable, perfect soldiers, the elite of elites, they were too few of them. A lot had died far away from their motherland, conquering countries at the other side of the world, while the others fell victims to stray bullets and bombshells which left them broken and unable to fight.

And the military of indestructible Empire realized – they were going to lose this war.

***

Levi came home that evening, and found his mother behind a weasel, painting a tree branch that was visible from their window.

“I’m home,” he announced for his mother was too occupied with her work to notice his arrival.

At the sound of his voice, she turned around, and the brilliant smile on her lips was enough to calm his raging heart.

“You picked up art again?” he asked, as he approached her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“I felt a sudden feat of inspiration,” she said, her voice like a sweet melody. “Although, I’m afraid my skills got a bit rough…”

“It’s beautiful,” Levi assured. “Did you eat dinner already?”

“Oh no,” her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. “I forgot to make it.”

“I’ll cook something for us, don’t worry. I’ll call you when it’s ready, you can continue painting.”

“Such a sweet boy,” she shook her head, lifting a brush and dipping it in a green paint. “How are things at work?”

Their second base, this one much closer to the capital was destroyed.

The situation was as bad as it could possibly be. Eldian forces were making rapid progress, and no one knew what to do to stop the invasion. They didn't have enough men to defend themselves, and, to make matters worse, they were yet to actually see the Eldian soldiers. The devils from Paradise remained hidden, striking from the shadows.

Zeke had departed from the capital, going to the closest army base to train the new recruits. Most of the Marleyan brass followed after him - Greeves had left too, and Levi suspected that it was the reason for his mother's good mood. They claimed they wanted to overlook the trainings, but Levi knew better - in case of the attack on the capital, they were hoping to wait it out in the safety of base's bunkers.

Zeke had left, but he sent Levi letters every day, asking on his progress with Hange. And every day, Levi had to come up with another lie to explain to him the absence of results.

So no, things at work weren't going that good, but then Levi remembered a smile that bloomed on Hange's face as he told her about the accomplishments of her soldiers, and he said.

"The work? It's going fine."

***

In a desperate attempt to showcase their superiority, to prove to the whole world that they're still the same indestructible Marley, the government decided to throw a parade.

The soldiers were rehearsing for days at end, perfecting their matching technique.

The sound of their tramps boomed through the main courtyard and reverberated through the stone walls of the army headquarters, as military officials and army engineers ran around, preparing the best and most advanced weaponry to show everyone their might.

During a day like this Levi led Hange out of her cell.

She walked through the hallways with a spring in her step and her hands dangling from side to side. For a tortured prisoner, she looked far too cheerful.

"Are you leading me to the gallows?" she asked in a playful singing voice.

Levi swept his gaze across her form, something coming alive inside him at the sight of her looking so joyful. "Unfortunately, no."

"Hm.” Hange nodded, narrowing her eye. “And what about the handcuffs?" she raised her free wrists. "Where are they? Am I not supposed to be an important and dangerous prisoner?"

"Are you going to run away, four-eyes?" Levi looked at her, a spark of amusement lightening his bored expression.

"I could try," she challenged.

"You could," Levi agreed. "And you wouldn't take more than two steps before I catch you."

"I could take you by surprise..."

"And you're saying this to prepare me for that surprise?"

Hange's bravado disappeared without a trace. "Damn your perceptiveness..." she muttered with a slight pout.

"So where are you taking me?" she repeated her question.

"To the bathroom."

"Eh?" a look of confusion settled over her face. "Is this a new method of torture?"

"No. I'm just sick of your smell. You reek worse than a pig, four-eyes."

"Ah, your clean freaky tendencies,” she snickered. “Of course, how could I forget."

“Take your clothes off,” he instructed once they were inside a brightly lit room with a bathtub standing at the center of it.

“I see you already prepared the water…” she murmured, approaching the tub and dipping her fingers in it. “And it’s still warm!”

“Don’t waste any more time then. Get inside, four-eyes.”

“Wait,” Hange sat at the edge of the tub and eyed him suspiciously. “You’re going to stay in the room with me?”

“You’re an important and dangerous prisoner,” he used her words from before. “Can’t exactly leave you here all alone, can I?”

“Or you just can’t resist my sexy and curvy body…” she whispered with a smirk on her lips.

“Start cleaning yourself,” Levi hastily turned around, hiding his blush. “Or I’ll do it myself.”

“Oh, will you be rough?” her sultry, sulky voice was quiet, but enticing. Levi hated the fact that it made his heart beat faster. “Will you manhandle me? Make me submit to your commands?”

“For fuck’s sake!” he growled, his ears and cheeks burning. “Just shut up and take a damn bath!”

“You’re no fun…” he heard her mumble. A moment later, he heard another sound, the one that made him exhale in relief – a sound of splashing water that signaled that Hange finally got inside the bathtub.

Levi tuned out everything else after that and stared out of the window, watching the soldiers march – one foot, then another, left and right, left and right, each move precise and controlled.

“So they’re organizing a parade,” Hange said. “Marley really doesn’t care that Paradise can attack at any moment?”

“On the contrary,” Levi disagreed. “Your guys got army higher-ups terrified as ever.”

“So this parade…”

“Is meant to show the other countries that we’re still as strong as ever, and ensure our own people that we got everything under control.”

“Not bad,” Hange hummed. “When people in Paradise start to doubt the government, they just start throwing shit at us.”

Despite himself, Levi chuckled. “Literally or figuratively?”

“Depends on how much we fucked up.”

“Paradise sounds more and more like my kind of country…” he mused quietly.

“I told you already,” Hange said, and without even looking at her, Levi could see the proud smirk on her face. “We could use your skills.”

“Are you trying to recruit me again, Commander?”

“It depends – is it working?”

Yes, Levi wanted to say. In the end, he said nothing.

“Hey,” she called. “Help me wash my hair, please.”

Levi wordlessly complied. He stood behind her back, his gaze involuntarily darting to the myriad of scars on her shoulder blades. He wondered about the story behind them. Without thinking, he reached out and traced the outline of one blemish, the one that ran along her spine.

“I have a lot of time to think nowadays,” Hange began, snapping Levi out of his reverie. He pulled his hand away, as fast as he could. The warmth from her skin lingered at his fingertips, making him wish to savor it for as long as possible. Ignoring the pleasant feeling, he pushed her down, wetting her hair. Then, when Hange reemerged, he squeezed shampoo onto his hands and buried them into her brown locks, gently carding through her hair. “I know it’s a bit stupid, and I know you most probably will laugh at me, or call me crazy, but… I thought if things were different, if—”

“If I wasn’t me, and you weren’t you?” Levi prompted, his voice hollow. He thought about the same thing.

“Yes,” Hange gave a slight nod. “If we had met under different circumstances, could we become… friends?”

Friends. What a weird word, what a constellation of different, but equally warm feelings. Affection, trust and care… They meant nothing to him. In all the years he was living in this world, he never really had anyone who could fit that description. He had colleagues, had brothers in arms, had his family… but a friend? He wasn’t familiar with that concept.

But if he was, Hange Zoe would probably fit that description to a tee.

If only things were different…

“Close your eyes,” he ordered, ignoring her question as though it had never been asked. “It’s time to rinse your hair.”

“Thank you,” Hange said, when she was finished with a bath and put on the fresh clothes Levi had brought her. It was his own, the white shirt was too wide for Hange in the shoulders and a little short in the sleeve’s area. She should have noticed, she probably had. She didn’t comment on it. “The bath was nice.”

She lowered her head after that, refusing to meet his eyes.

Even so, Levi nodded. “Let’s get back then. Your wounds need redressing.”

Hange followed him without another word. As he led her back, one thought repeated itself over and over in his head.

If only things were different…

***

The parade was fast approaching. And with that, came a spread of a rumor amongst high ranking officers that the attack was going to happen during the festivities. It was based on nothing, a little less than a stupid superstition.

Still, the atmosphere at the capital was becoming tenser and tenser with each passing day.

Zeke had come back along with other members of military, disappointed in Levi and desperate to get at least something out of unyielding Commander, something they could use to protect themselves before it was too late.

The absence of time was working in Levi's favor. Zeke couldn't spare even a second on him, otherwise he'd surely investigate the suspicious lack of any results.

Levi too had his fair share of reasons for anxieties. He couldn't leave the capital, his absence would be noticed immediately and punished severally, but he wasn't so keen to escape. He was ready to stand with other soldiers and do his best to protect his homeland, but his mother... His mother was another matter completely. He couldn't leave her in the city, even if Hange's people weren't quite as cruel, a fallen building or one particularly bloodthirsty soldier could become a reason for his mother's demise.

He couldn't let it happen.

So in the middle of the night, three days before the parade, Levi paid a visit to an old acquaintance.

Uri Reiss, the biggest adversary against Marley's imperial tendencies, the leader of a once influential political party and the sole reason of Kenny's early and shameful loss of a life, was now in the hiding, living the last days of his glory in the slumps at the edge of the city.

When Levi came, he was sitting in front of a fire with his legs folded underneath him, surrounded by a group of people.

Levi briefly wondered if that were his new followers. Looks like the bastard had lost everything, except his charm, he thought bitterly.

Uri looked bad, old and weary, he was a far cry from the charismatic and sharp man his uncle had decided to follow all those years ago. He was wearing baggy, dirty clothes that were patched up too many times. The only part of his garb that still seemed clean, the only thing he obviously took great care of, was a hat he was wearing on his head.

Kenny's hat, Levi realized after a second of staring at it.

Even after all those ten years that passed since Kenny's death, Levi still remembered that hat.

Remembered how easy it was to find his uncle in the crowd of people because of it. Remembered the texture, the feeling of it in his hands from those rare moments, when Kenny put it on his head.

Of course, he left it to that bastard. Gave it away, easily just like his life.

The mere thought of Kenny evoked a sense of deep, forgotten rage in Levi. The mere sight of his friend, the damned Uri Reiss that condemned their whole family with his naive beliefs, was enough to make Levi fume with anger.

"Levi," Uri squinted, looking at him. "Is that really you? What are you doing here?"

He stepped closer, the shadows from the fire that Uri and his friends were sitting around dancing across his face. "I came to collect my debt."

"Your debt?"

"Yes," he nodded. "You promised Kenny, I know you did, he told me so himself. In exchange for his life, you promised that in time of need, you'll help me and my mother."

"I hope you understand that my hands are quite tied, and I don't have the influence I once possessed," Uri tilted his head, his abnormally bright eyes studying Levi. Despite his old age, despite his current state, his eyes remained the same. The same wit and wisdom Kenny couldn't resist, they were still there. "So what do you want?"

"I'm not going to ask for much," Levi assured him. "I just need you to take my mother out of the city, as far away as you can manage."

"Ah, beautiful Kuchel," Uri shook his head, a wistful smile playing on his thin lips. "Kenny had a soft spot for her too. For both of you, you were the only thing he cared about..."

"And yet he gave his life for your cause," Levi growled, his hands squeezing into fists. “And left us to deal with consequences."

He always hated Uri, hated how much influence he had over Kenny. Hated how in the end, Kenny chose him, and not them, his family.

"Will you do this or not?"

"I—" Uri faltered for a second, something changing in the depth of his eyes. "Of course, I'll help you, Levi. In three days, I'll send one of my men to fetch Kuchel from your apartment. They'll bring her to a safe place, you have my word."

"Good," Levi turned around, unable to look at the bastard any longer.

"And you, Levi?" Uri called after him. "Don't you wish to leave too?"

"No," he answered, his gaze determined. "I'll stay here. Until the end."

***

Convincing his mother to leave proved to be a tougher challenge than Levi had expected. But in the end, after swearing to her that he would join her very soon, he was able to persuade her to start packing her things.

And that's how he spent the remaining three days - helping his mother and keeping Hange company. As though sensing the approach of her soldiers, she became much livelier. She talked about them a lot - gushing over her subordinates as if they were her own children.

Levi shared small bits about his life as well - briefly reminiscing about the time when Kenny was still alive, still with them and they were a small, but tight and loving family.

In moments like these, he couldn't get her words out of his head.

if we had met under different circumstances, could we become… friends?

In moments like these, he felt as though they already were.

***

Three days later, Levi was in a hurry.

He glanced at his pocket watch - it showed seven o'clock - and started running. He left his office and headed outside, passing dozens of people who were in the same state of haste as he was. The parade was starting in just an hour, civilians already started to gather at the main plaza, and everyone was busy with the last preparations. And Levi was in a rush to get home.

The pointer of his pocket watch showed that it was almost a quarter after seven and Levi squeezed himself in-between the large, tight crowd, desperate to get home.

If he was fast enough, she'd still be there. If he was fast enough, he could say a proper goodbye to his mother.

Panting and heaving, he all but tumbled into his apartment. Instantly— the smell of chamomile and lavender tickled his nostrils.

Levi relaxed, she was still here. He kicked off his shoes and walked inside.

He headed to the kitchen and froze a few steps short from it. With heart in his throat, his eyes slowly traced the trail of blood on the floor.

His mother— she wasn't there. Not anymore.

"That's what whores get for trying to escape."

Levi's head snapped to the sound of voice, that voice.

Greeves had walked out of the bathroom, the still bloodied knife in his hands.

Levi was at him in an instant.

He didn't think, he didn't feel as he had wretched the knife out of his hands and threw it away.

He glanced back, at the body of his mother. He saw the steely look in her eyes, a mask of suffering etched forever on her beautiful face.

He turned back to Greeves, and he hit.

His first blow broke his nose. Greeves hollered, and somewhere outside, a distance away from the little apartment in the center of the city, the fireworks started. Or, maybe, the defining explosion wasn't caused by fireworks, as the screams that followed were terrified, not excited, but Levi did not care enough to pay attention to it.

He hit Greeves again and again, and then again. His knuckles started to ache, but he didn't stop. Greeves fell to the ground and he didn't stop, just paused long enough to get on top of him. He stroke blow after blow, hit his face again and again, until there was nothing left.

Only then, he had stopped.

With his legs shaking and hands trembling, he stood up and approached the prone body of his mother.

He picked her up - as gently as he could with the hands that were made for war, with the hands that were covered in blood of her murderer - and brought her to her room, placing her on the bed.

He fixed her hair, wiped the blood from her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead, mimicking a gesture he had received from her so often.

Now that the fog that had taken over his mind was gone, Levi was more aware of his surroundings. Now he was able to understand what was going on outside.

It wasn't the sound of fireworks, those weren't the scream of triumph.

As a loyal soldier of Marleyan Empire, he knew all too well the sound of a thunder spear explosion.

The deadly invention of Commander Hange Zoe.

The city wasn't going to hold out for much longer. That meant he was still in a hurry. There was still an unfinished business he had to take care of.

***

All hell had broken loose, when Levi walked outside. The streets around him were ablaze with fire, from all sides all he could hear was explosions, cries and wallows.

The worst of the fighting was done on the main plaza. A downpour of bullets rained down all around him, as two sides desperately fought to achieve victory.

His blindingly white military coat was making him an easy target and wordlessly told everyone which side he was on. So Levi shook it off and made the rest of the way, running from cover to cover, wearing only his thin shirt.

Because, apparently, the universe had its fill of miseries for him already, he was able to get to the entrance of army headquarters relatively unharmed.

Once he stepped inside, Levi had to pause and survey his surroundings. After all the chaos outside, the familiar hallways seemed almost unnaturally quiet.

It was unexpectedly empty too, although Levi was sure it won’t last for long.

Without wasting another moment, he headed to the dungeons. The lone guard that still stood there, protecting god knows what, at the sight of Levi raised his arm in salute.

“Captain Ackerman!” he shouted with no small amount of relief. “We were looking for you, General Yeager needs you—”

The words slowly died on his throat, as he took a better look at Levi’s face.

“Captain?” the guard asked cautiously. “Your face… Did you already engage in a fight? Are you hurt?”

“Get lost,” Levi growled, pushing past him. “Go and hide somewhere, wait until the fighting is over. Don’t throw away your life for this country,” his face changed, a shadow passing through it. “It’s not worth it.”

Without another glance at the soldier, Levi opened the large metal door and walked in.

She must be still here. Thankfully, she was.

***

In the silence of the dungeons, the sound of a key turning and the lock opening was loud like a gunshot.

It had Hange bolting up from her place at the bed.

“Levi!” she exclaimed, relief and happiness mixing in her voice.

“Get out.” He rasped, hollow and lifeless.

“Levi?” she approached him, cautiously, like a cornered, wounded animal. “What—”

“Get out!” he yelled. “While you still can.”

The thundering noise of heavy footsteps sounded up above them. The soldier, guarding the entrance, had probably reported to someone the news about his arrival. That, or they have already found the body in his apartment.

Either way, he was already done for. After murdering a war general, there was only one way for him to go.

And he’d rather get hanged, knowing that he did at least one good thing in his life.

The irony of it all was laughable. Always praised for his loyalty and obedience, he ended up as a traitor.

Like uncle, like nephew.

“Levi, what happened?” Hange stood right in front of him, so close he could feel her breath on his cheek. She watched him, her eye shining with worry. “There’s blood on your face…”

“Not mine,” he answered, staring at the wall behind her shoulder with glassy, distant gaze.

“Thank gods…” she muttered, cradling his face in her hands. Using the sleeve of her shirt, she did her best to wipe the blood from his cheeks and jaw.

Levi didn’t look at her even once.

“Hey…” Hange tried again, moving even closer, her thumb absentmindedly brushing his cheekbone. “Levi, talk to me, please. What happened?”

“Go,” he wanted to push her away, but Hange didn’t sway, a look of stubborn determination taking over her features.

“I won’t go anywhere, until you tell me what happened.”

The footsteps became louder, soon they would reach the dungeon. He needed to get rid of Hange before that happens.

“My mother…” he whispered, shutting his eyes close. The mere memory of her body lying in a pool of her own blood brought him an immense amount of pain. It felt like someone had stuck a knife in his chest and turned it, it felt like someone had ripped his heart out.

“Oh, Levi,” Hange wrapped herself around him, burying her nose in his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Who did that? Was it—”

“No,” he shook his head. “She was killed by Marleyan. And I killed him.”

“That won’t go unpunished,” Hange carefully said, still holding him in her arms.

“I know. And I don’t care.”

“I do,” she said suddenly, the fierceness of her voice surprising Levi. “Go with me.”

“What?” Levi took a step back, staring at Hange with wide eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“There is nothing keeping you here. And if you stay, they’ll put you in prison or worse. Run away with me, Levi.”

Her offer… was unexpected. He thought his life was already over, made his peace with that, but what Hange proposed… it didn’t sound that bad, not as bad as dying alone, at least.

If he accepted, he’d be able to find a purpose again. He’d finally get a friend.

He looked up at Hange. She was staring back at him, waiting for his answer. The footsteps up above stopped, and the voices appeared, Levi instantly recognized Zeke and Floch. They were close, possibly just behind the door.

Levi knew another way out, a hidden exit almost no one knew about. Hange could use it to escape, but she didn’t have much time.

Nevertheless, she didn’t falter. She didn’t glance back, didn’t fidget or sweat or tremble.

A force to be reckoned with, Levi remembered his own words.

“All this talk of running away…” he lifted his lips in a shadow of a smile. “Do you wish to recruit me so bad, Commander?”

“I told you, we could use your skills,” Hange answered, a smile breaking on her face as well. “So… are you interested in my offer?”

He reached out, grasped her hand in his and answered.

“I am.”

#just so you know this whole thing was created out of idea 'hey wouldn't levi look super hot in marleyan uniform?'#so you can imagine it's not super coherent #levihan #levihan fanfiction

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starshine583 · 3 years

Text

New Girl on the Block (13)

(Happy Valentine’s Day everybody!!! I’d say that this is a gift for the day, but this is my usual update time lol please enjoy the new chapter anyway! There’s also a mini series connected to this called Journal Entries :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.12 / Ch.14 (ao3)

Chapter 13: I’ll Make You a Deal

Lila stalked the halls of Dupont, doing her best to hide her scowl as she massaged her temples. When she offered to take Marinette’s job as Class President, she hadn’t realized how much extra work she was dumping onto herself. She thought that the title was just that: a title. Nothing more. Nothing less. Sure, she would have to verify a few things, acknowledge her classmates’ opinions towards the school system, and speak out about it as a representative towards them, but that was all. She didn’t expect it to rearrange her entire schedule towards life! Her head was pounding from the late nights of filing student complaints, her back ached from carrying this stupid binder around, and her wrist still twinged with pain from signing too many papers at once. It was ridiculous!

Lying to Bustier about those forms didn’t make it any easier either. Instead of getting to make minor additions to the papers Marinette had already written, she now had to rewrite all of the forms herself. The entire process was a nightmare, and Lila couldn’t escape. If she lied again and said that Marinette gave the forms back, that would be glorifying the girl, and she refused to do that. However, if she lied and said that she simply found the forms again, it would not only make her look suspicious, but also incompetent. She couldn’t have either of those descriptions attached to her person.

So, that left her with the agonizing option of filling them out again herself. She tried to push it onto Alya, and for the most part, she succeeded. The red-head filled out a good half before handing them back, but that still left Lila with the other half. Thus, she’s spent the last three nights in a row doing nothing but signing form after form after form. The fact that she had to use Marinette’s forms as reference only made it worse. She could practically hear the ravenette laughing at her every time she glanced over the original paperwork. It was utterly humiliating.

And don’t get her started on the amount of requests or complaints that she had to file. Everyday her classmates came to her asking for this or that or “could you change this about our classroom?”. Sometimes they would talk about the seats being too hard or the fact that they didn’t have enough recess or how the stairs were too far apart and someone could trip. Then- oh, then -there were the class trips. One request was a literal trip to Greece. Greece! Did they think she or the school was just made of money? How can they possibly be this greedy or entitled? How was Marinette able to handle it all so easily? She made it look like it was nothing!

Lila clenched her fists at her side, her nails digging into her skin. Even after running from the school with her tail between her legs, Marinette was still acting as a sharp, irritating thorn in Lila’s side.

Sparkling laughter interrupted her thoughts, and Lila turned to the two boys standing outside of the library entrance. Adrien Agreste, the golden child of the school, and Nino, his little sidekick- as far as Lila was concerned -appeared to be chatting mindlessly on their way back to class, which was typical. Adrien was always talking with somebody now-a-days. That was another problem of hers.

When Marinette first left, Adrien became distraught and distant. He began muttering to himself and not listening in class, dismissing everyone with a hum and a nod. The other students berated him for the behavior, wonderfully captured in Lila’s beautifully crafted web of words, but he hardly heard them. Or if he did, he didn’t care. He continued to write things in his notebook that certainly weren’t lesson notes and run his hand through his hair with frustration when he hit some sort of wall.

It was irritating, of course, but nothing Lila hadn’t expected. Marinette was supposed to be his “very good friend”, after all. She would have been surprised if he hadn’t mourned the loss. What she didn’t anticipate, though, was the way he bounced back.

It had to have happened a little over two weeks after Marinette left, because Lila remembered finally starting to feel comfortable in her new role of being able to lie unchallenged. She was spewing some crap about Marinette sending her mean messages, making sure her tears looked real enough and her sobs were believable, when Adrien decided to jump into the conversation. He flashed her a bright smile and, in the kindest voice she’d ever heard, asked her for the texts that Marinette had sent.

The question alone had surprised her, considering the fact that he hadn’t really spoken to anyone in a while, but that smile he held was really the thing to set her on edge. It was simply too sweet-looking for someone who had just indirectly asked for proof of her story, especially when they both knew that she was lying.

She couldn’t understand the change. He’d been cowering in the corner for the last two weeks, and yet that day, he was out for blood on her account. Why? What was the difference between the last two weeks and that day? She still doesn’t know.

Adrien’s determination towards outing her cranked up to eleven after that . He went from barely talking to one person throughout the day to talking with everyone on a constant basis, and anytime Lila so much as uttered a sentence, he was there asking questions. When did she do this, who helped her with that, how did she manage to get from one place to the other so quickly- from a naïve onlooker’s point of view, Adrien would simply appear to be interested in Lila’s stories, but she knew better. He was finding holes in her stories and using them to rip apart her words piece by piece, all while using an innocent yet confused expression to make it seem like he was trying to help her. The strategy was completely different from Marinette’s, and it ticked Lila off to no end. How was she supposed to turn crowds against him and regain her throne if he kept acting like some pure-hearted angel?

She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t, and he knew that she couldn’t, because that’s the exact same tactic that eventually got Marinette to leave the school.

A part of her had hoped that this newfound passive-aggression would fade after a few days, but now that three weeks of constant badgering on Adrien’s account has passed, that hope has been thoroughly and relentlessly crushed. He hasn’t done much over those weeks, thankfully, but she’s had to reinforce her lies ten times the normal amount to keep it that way. That’s a tad hard to do when all of your stories are on the grand scale of things.

Even with her meticulous planning and words choices, though, one can’t escape subtle confrontation forever. She could tell that people were slowly starting to become suspicious of her stories. They were either wanting Adrien to be around during their discussions with her or were looking for holes themselves.

Watching them exchange glances during her stories made her blood boil. Why did they have to be so nosy? So picky? Can’t she have a reprieve for once in her entire life? Can’t she just lie and manipulate others without the fear of getting caught? Why did that feel like such a big request from the universe?

Adrien and Nino waved to each other, and Lila perked up. It looked like they were separating. Were they separating? Oh, please be separating. That would be the most convenient thing to happen to her all month.

Adrien split off from Nino, to her delight, and Lila beelined after the blond. His meddling had gone on long enough, and she thought it was high time someone put an end to it. That someone being her.

“Adrien!” Lila cooed, looping her arm with his and flashing a bright smile. “It’s been forever since we’ve talked just one on one, don’t you think?”

Adrien’s steps faltered, and for the briefest of moments, she saw his eyes darken. Nobody else would have noticed, especially not with the friendly smile he gave her right after, but Lila caught it. She was the only one who realized how truly despicable the model could be.

“Oh, hey Lila.” He replied with an easy, clearly fake smile. “I guess we haven’t talked alone in a while. You normally like to be at the center of the crowd.”

Lila tried not to grit her teeth and instead elected to flip her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t say the center. I’m just being myself, and the others seem to follow.”

Adrien hummed. “Yes, I’m sure you're a wonderful role model for all of us. It isn’t everyday we get the courtesy of having an honest and kind friend like you.”

His sarcasm was palpable, but his shining smile remained. A part of her wondered why he even bothered acting at this point. They both knew they were at war now. Niceties were only necessary when someone was clueless towards hidden motives. Adrien wasn’t, and neither was she, yet here they were. Smiling and trading snide remarks in the privacy of the empty locker room.

Lila put on a bashful expression. “Oh, please-”

“Of course,” Adrien interrupted her, “there was also Marinette. She was always ready to help someone. It’s a shame she had to transfer schools.”

Lila bit the inside of her cheek to avoid sneering. There he goes again, mentioning that ridiculous baker girl. It’s so infuriating.

“Even though she was a bully? I’m sorry, Adrien, but I don’t think you should forgive someone so easily. They’ll walk all over you if you give them too much leeway.”

Adrien slipped- or rather jerked -his arm out of Lila’s grasp as he exchanged some of his books. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Ah, there it is. That might have been the first genuine comment he’s made during this discussion.

“What was that?” She asked with feigned politeness.

Adrien straightened and gave her another innocent smile. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if this could all be a big misunderstanding? The phone number that was terrorizing you wasn’t Marinette’s, after all. If you were.. mistaken.. on that story, perhaps you missed something in your other stories. Don’t you think so?”

Lila forced a smile so wide that her cheeks started to hurt. Was this his way of giving her an out? A last chance of mercy? Because if it was, she refused to take it. She’s built this kingdom with nothing but her bare hands, and she’d be darned if she decided to lie down and let him take it away just as quickly.

“I can’t say I do.”

Adrien closed his locker, a certain glint coming to his eyes when he looked at her. “Well.. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what I find. Won’t we?”

Rage crackled through Lila’s bones as Adrien walked past her, but she caught herself before doing anything rash. If she was going to counter Adrien’s sudden attacks, she needed to make a deal with him and get him off of her back just long enough to plan. And to do that, she needed to promise him what he apparently wanted most.

“What if it wasn’t her?”

Adrien stopped in the doorway, and Lila held her breath.

“..Because it wasn’t her,” he corrected, “I’ll be hoping that she comes back.”

Lila drew in a deep breath, if only to avoid screaming. Marinette, Marinette, Marinette- Why did he have to have to be so infatuated with Marinette? What could she possibly have that made Adrien want to fight against the whole school to get her back?

“Alright..” She said, completely calm. “Say you were right. If it happened to turn out that Marinette wasn’t the one responsible and I convince her to come back, will we all be able to get along?”

Bile rose to her mouth as she spoke. The very thought of running back to Marinette and asking her to come back to Dupont made Lila’s stomach churn, but this was fine. She was only promising to bring Marinette back. Promises can easily be broken.

Adrien smiled, but not like the fake, warm smiles he’d been giving her throughout their conversation. No, this one was sharp, predatory, as though he could see right through her words.

“See you in class, Lila.”

The “golden child” left the locker room then, and Lila finally gave in to her frustration and let out a growl. This was supposed to be her victory, her turf, and yet she can’t even enjoy it anymore because Adrien freaking Agreste decided to meddle in business that wasn’t his. He knew that the only reason she was willing to compromise was because he was getting to her, and that burned her up inside.

She drew in another deep breath and smoothed out her miniature ponytails. This was fine. Everything was fine. Adrien might be deciding to join the squabble a tad later than usual, but Lila invented this game. If he wanted to try his hand at her tactics and strategies, fine. He would soon realize why she was able to climb to the top in the first place.

~~~~~~~

Marinette stared out the car window with awe as they drove up the street towards Allegra’s estate. In the week that led to the group sleepover, Marinette had racked her brain day and night trying to decide what the mansion would be like. How tall would it be? How wide? Would it take up an entire street or a small square of Paris like Gabriel’s? Would there be butlers running around like in the movies or would there be a simple maid or two to keep things moving? Perhaps there wouldn’t be any hired hand at all? The excitement and anticipation made her buzz and bounce through the last few school days at Rosemary, but she refused to ask any questions during the wait for winter break. Marinette wanted the mansion to be a complete surprise. And now that she was finally here, sitting in the backseat of Allegra’s miniature limo and practically pressing her face against the window, she couldn’t be happier with that decision.

Mansions of all kinds lined the sidewalks, bigger and more elegant than she could have ever imagined. Some had marvelous fountains, while others had incredible gardens. Some had amazing walls with ingrained art that lined the premises, and one mansion even had horses grazing on their front lawn! It made her wonder why Gabriel would build his mansion in the middle of the city, or if any of these mansions might belong to Claude, Allan, or Felix.

Near the end of the street rested a long brick wall that had elaborate, white statues decorating the major corners. Marinette guessed immediately that that was Allegra’s mansion, because the wall wrapped around an enormous white house that had silver railings for the balconies and blue-ish grey tiles for the rooftops, quite contrary to the golds and dark browns that came with the other mansions. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and that seemed like something Allegra would enjoy, even if the house belonged directly to her parents.

Sure enough, the car rolled to a stop in front of the black metal gate that the brick walls led to, and the driver told Marinette to stay put as he hopped out of the vehicle. She watched quietly as he unlocked the gate by hand using a personal key and quickly found herself wiggling in her seat when he started pushing the gates open. They were so close! Allegra’s mansion was right there! If they didn’t start moving again in two seconds, Marinette might just jump out and start running.

The driver got back into the car with a small apology for the inconvenience- to which she assured him that it was fine through barely contained squeals -and they continued through the gate at a leisure pace, which killed Marinette inside. She wanted to get into the mansion now!

In an effort to remain still, her eyes flicked around the front lawn of the estate. The driveway they had pulled into appeared to be a full circle, looping around an intricate water fountain that spouted bursts of water in such a way that made the water look as though it were dancing. Diamonds of dark green grass cut through the concrete in the driveway, leading to the rest of the vibrant grass on the lawn, and a delightful mix of bushes and flowers lined the inside of the brick wall as well the outside of the mansion. It struck Marinette as quaint and refined at the same time, and her respects went out to the person- or persons -responsible for designing and maintaining the look.

Finally, the limo parked in front of these wide, marble steps that led to the front door, and the driver barely had time to open Marinette’s back door before she leapt out with her bags in her arms. If the outside was this luxurious, she couldn’t wait to see how breathtaking the inside would be.

“Thanks for the ride, sir!” She called over her shoulder as she hopped up the steps two-by-two.

“Oh, miss-!” The man yelled after her. “May I take your bags?”

Marinette skidded to a halt and turned around, ready to politely decline his offer, when another voice spoke up behind her.

“No need, Louis! I’ve got them.”

Marinette whirled back around, coming face to face with Allegra, who was now standing in the doorway with a bright smile.

The blonde reached forward to take the bags with one hand, while giving Marinette a side hug with the other. “I’m so happy you’re here! This is going to be great.”

“I know! I’ve been waiting for this all week! Your house looks amazing.”

A grin spread across Allegra’s lips, and she pulled back from the hug in favor of grabbing Marinette’s hand. “If you like it now, just wait till you see the inside.”

The two girls waltzed inside together, but as soon as she entered, Marinette couldn’t help gasping and breaking away from Allegra to run further into the house. Tiled, marble floors stretched out before her, seemingly farther than the street she had just driven down, and on the other side of the bigger-than-life foyer was a set of large, open windows that touched from the floor of the first level to the ceiling of the second level. They overlooked the backyard, which was equally as enchanting as the front yard, and a part of her had the urge to sit down and stare at them wistfully for a good hour or two.

To her left and right were a pair of long, curved stairs that led to the second floor. They matched the marble tiles on the first floor and had beautiful, metal railings that curled and twisted into different types of flowers and leaves. The railing also trailed off to the open hallways above, where Marinette could see different types of doors lined up. Her restless brain wanted to skip up the stairs, brush her hand across the smooth, black railing, and explore each and every room possible.

Her gaze dragged up to the ceiling, and her jaw fell slack yet again as she realized exactly how high the building was. The circular sunroof that signified the center of the ceiling felt higher than the Eiffel Tower itself, and Marinette was certain that if she called out, it would take at least five seconds to hear her voice echoing back to her.

“Well?” Allegra asked next to her. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Marinette blanched. “Allegra, this is incredible! Do you really live here?”

A musical laugh came from the blonde, and she nodded. “Yep. Ever since I was five. Come on, I’ll give you a tour!”

They made their way to the stairs, and Marinette eagerly ran her hand across the cool railings as she continued to look around. She couldn’t believe how astonishing everything looked. It was as though they’d taken the finest jewels and rocks on earth and merged them together to create this mansion. How did they even afford all of this?

“What did you say your mom did again?”

Allegra glanced over at her. “My mom? She’s a-”

“Hey!”

The two girls paused mid step and looked up at the open hallway. Claude stood just above them, leaning over the railing and waving with a wide grin. Allan stood behind him, also offering the girls a friendly smile as a greeting.

“Is that Marinette?” Claude called.

“Yep! She just got here.”

“Sweet!” The brunette cheered. He dashed from his place upstairs and, once he got a good enough momentum, jumped to a stop, using his socks to slide the rest of the way to the stairwell. “We’ve been waiting forever for you to show up!”

Marinette giggled and ran up the rest of the stairway to give Claude a hug. “I got my clothes together as fast as I could.”

“Oh, you’re good.” Allan assured as he came to join them. “You’re technically early anyway.”

“I thought I was.” Marinette remarked, pulling away from Claude to give Allan a small hug as well. “Is Felix here too?”

“Nope, it’s just us right now.” Claude answered with a smile. “We already had clothes here from previous sleepovers.”

“They practically have their own personal closets at this point.” Allegra snorted. Then, she gave Marinette a playful nudge. “And soon, so will you.”

Marinette smiled. She wasn’t sure that she even had enough clothes to fill another closet, but it didn’t stop her from feeling giddy towards receiving one. Having a personal closet at Allegra’s meant she would be coming over much more often, and that was something she desperately wanted to do at this point.

“Have you shown her around yet?” Claude asked.

“Nope. I was gonna show her my room first, though, so I can put her bags down in there.”

“Oh, good idea.” The brunette remarked, taking the opportunity to snag Marinette’s bags from Allegra’s hands. “Let’s go! You’re gonna love it, Mari.”

With everyone together- save for Felix -the group eagerly clambered down the hallway that Claude and Allan had previously been in. The black railway from the staircase continued to twist down the hall next to Marinette, and when it finally stopped at a wall, Claude stopped at a doorway to his right. Glittering stickers arched across the door, spelling out the word “Allegra”.

“Those are from when I was, like, nine.” Allegra commented, a hint of a blush on her cheeks as she opened her bedroom door.

Marinette was about to say that it was fine- she actually found the lettering to be endearing -but any form of words or replies were lost on her when she saw the bedroom for the first time.

Everything was covered in light purples and white, with occasional bits of gold and light blue to accent the room. An enormous, deep purple bed with swirling, golden patterns sat in the center, holding pillows that were bigger than Marinette’s bed alone and a comfort that looked fluffier than her warmest ear-muffs. A pair of blue, see-through curtains wrapped around the bed as well, reminding her of something a princess might own.

Across the room- which was twice the size of her little attic bedroom -were two white shelves that stretched from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. They held various things such as books, notebooks, miniature glass statues, and plenty of other trinkets that struck Marinette as charming. She wondered how long it must have taken Allegra to collect such things, or if she bought them all in one go as she decorated her room. There were even a few crystal wind-chimes hanging around the room.

“This is..” Marinette wasn’t sure what it was as she walked inside, star-struck. The girl even had her own chandelier, for Pete’s sake! Then there was the massive vanity with a million different types of eyeshadow- all aligned perfectly in an orderly fashion -and the massive desk on the other side of the room that had a fancy paperweight and a nice, little trinket to hold all of Allegra’s pencils and such for school. Don’t get her started on the chair hanging from the ceiling that looked equally fancy and comfortable.

“Do I really get to sleep in here?” She eventually asked instead. Words couldn’t describe her thoughts on the room or how it looked like something out of a daydream.

Allegra laughed. “Yep! We’re actually going to be spending most of the night here.”

“After we go swimming, of course.” Claude added as he set Marinette’s bags down in the walk-in closet.

Marinette’s eyes widened at the remark. She’d almost forgotten why she came here in the first place. “Where is the swimming pool?”

“It’s downstairs.” Allegra answered. “I can’t wait for you to see it. We have a water slide and everything.”

Marinette would have gasped, but after what she’s seen so far, she wouldn’t be surprised if they had their own personal zoo. “Can we go see it?”

“Absolutely!” The blonde smiled, looping her arm with Marinette’s. “But first, we need to finish our tour.”

The group made their way out of Allegra’s room and started exploring each door they passed. Claude, Allan, and Allegra took turns explaining each room’s purpose to Marinette, and she absorbed their words as best she could. Most of the time, though, she was lost in her thoughts, completely awed by the structure of the household.

Each room appeared to be bigger than the last, and some of them had Marinette nearly falling over from the amount of money that had to have gone into the décor. There were offices and dining halls and bigger bedrooms for Allegra’s parents. Then there were game rooms with pool tables and living rooms with couches that stretched around the entire room so everyone could see each other. Vases and sculptures lined the hallways and hid in the corners while extensive family portraits littered walls and held personal places on overly huge fireplaces.

In a word, the entire mansion was extravagant, especially for a three-person family, but despite the overwhelming amount of space, Marinette could feel the warmth and familial love of each room. A multitude of memories resided in the walls, and she couldn’t wait to hear all of them.

One room in particular caught her attention the most.

“What is this place?” Marinette asked as she walked into another wide-spread room. Musical instruments of all kinds littered the area- harps, violins, cellos, pianos, guitars, mandolins, and other things she couldn’t even name. They all appeared to be in mint condition, so clean that she could see her reflection in them, and the little kid in Marinette wanted to run around and try each one of them.

“This,” Allegra said next to her, “is our music room.”

“Music room..” Marinette whispered as her hand ran over a pair of literal bongos. “Can you actually play all of these?”

Claude snorted behind them. “She definitely wishes she could.”

Allegra scoffed and smacked his arm with a playful glare.

“No, I can’t play all of them.. But I’m working on it.”

“Wow.” Marinette muttered. That had to be time consuming. Where did she find the drive to keep practicing all of these?

“..Can I touch them?”

“Oh, yeah! Touch them all. Go crazy. I can even teach you how to play a little tune for some of them if you want.”

Marinette lit up. “Can you really?”

Allegra chuckled. “Of course. We have all night, don’t we?”

Marinette had to bite her tongue to avoid squealing again, and she promptly darted off to try everything she could. Any strings and keys would be briefly plucked and pressed before being cast away for the next instrument. She would thump on the drums and blow on the tubas and, occasionally, she would stop to try a few simple tunes on an instrument that sounded especially enchanting to her.

After about thirty minutes of this heaven- there were a lot of instruments -someone knocked on the doorframe at the front of the room, gathering the group’s attention.

A man with light brown hair stood in the doorway, offering an easy, yet apologetic smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Allegra, who had been teaching Marinette how to play the Panda Drum, hopped up from her position on the floor to greet him with a hug. “Not at all! I was just showing Marinette around the house. Mari, this is my dad, Arthur. Dad, this is Marinette, my friend from school that I’ve been telling you about.”

Marinette set the drum aside and stood up as well. “It’s nice to meet you, M. Chanson.”

“Oh, please.” M. Chanson held up a dismissive hand. “Just call me Arthur. Or even Uncle Arthur, if you like.”

A soft smile spread across Marinette’s lips, and she nodded. He sounded exactly like Maman when someone new came to their house.

“Anyway, I just came by to drop off the last bit of your group. He found me in the kitchen while looking for you.” Arthur said. He then stepped to the side to reveal none other than Felix, who had apparently been standing behind him the whole time.

Marinette perked up at the sight of the blond. “Oh, Felix! You’re here!”

“Here late.” Claude added with a smirk.

Felix shot him a look. “I’m not late. I told you all that I wouldn’t quite be here at the same time as everyone else.”

“Telling us that you’re going to be late doesn’t mean that you weren’t late.” Allegra pointed out. “It just means that you were considerate about your tardiness.”

Felix narrowed his eyes at her, knowing she was correct, and Marinette pursed her lips to avoid laughing, because she also knew that Allegra was correct.

“So I see you’ve been showing her my instruments?” Arthur cut in, redirecting the conversation.

Marinette’s eyes widened. “These are your instruments?”

Arthur chuckled. “Yep. In fact, I taught Allegra everything she knows.”

“You mean you can actually play all of them?”

“Well, some better than others,” The man responded with a half shrug, “but yeah. I’m honestly a little disappointed that A didn’t come get me when she showed you the room.”

Allegra winced. “Oh, sorry, Dad. I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“That’s amazing..” Marinette remarked, dumbfounded. She couldn’t imagine having enough memory to know how each individual instrument was played.

Arthur tilted his head back and forth with a hum. “I wouldn’t say amazing. A lot of these instruments are extremely similar to how they’re played, and at some point, once you’ve learned enough, you start to realize that a lot of music has a certain order to it. When you know that order, it makes playing a lot easier.”

“Oh, don’t be modest.” Allegra scolded. “Who else can play almost all of the instruments of the world and memorize any new instruments within a week?”

Before Arthur could respond, Allegra turned to Marinette with a proud smile and continued.

“Dad’s able to combine these instruments like no one I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot. It’s like he’s memorized every string, key, or chord possible! He’s even written songs for us too. Some of them are just funny little melodies to go with Claude’s acts, but others are full songs that he performs for me and Mom. Sometimes, when Mom’s stressed, he’ll sing or play for her to help her relax. I personally think that the songs he writes then are the best ones.”

The more she talked, the more bashful Arthur became, and Marinette couldn’t help cooing at the man. The thought of someone writing songs for the person they loved and singing them when that person felt down brought a wonderful warmth to her chest. It actually reminded her of another sweet boy she knew, one with blue-tipped hair and a smile that could melt the arctic.

“I have a friend like that.” She decided to say. Why not tell the others about him too? “He has a passion for the guitar and plays songs for me when I feel down too. It’s so calming.”

Something in her tone or expression must have caught their interest, because the group’s attention shifted from Allegra to Marinette in an instant. Before she could ask about the sudden change, Claude slipped an arm around her shoulders, flashing her a sly grin.

“Oh? A friend, you say?” He drawled. “You sound pretty fond of him. What’s his name?”

An involuntary blush crept across Marinette’s cheeks, more so at the implication in Claude’s voice than anything else. After two years of hanging around Alya, with her raised eyebrows and coy smiles, she could tell when someone was trying to accuse her of certain feelings towards another.

“O-Oh. uhm.. His name is Luka.”

“Luka..” Allegra hummed. “I’ve never heard you mention his name before.”

“And I’ve never seen her blush like that before, either.” Claude teased. “You’re not being very subtle, Nette.”

Marinette felt her blush deepen, even though they both knew she was easily flustered. She’s probably blushed a million times in the month that she’s known them, and most of those blushes were definitely darker than the one she was wearing even now.

Her gaze flicked to Felix, curious as to what he thought on the matter. His expression remained neutral, though she spotted a bit of intrigue in his eyes. It didn’t help with her guilt towards the comments.

Then again, why should she feel guilty? Even if she did like Luka, that wouldn’t affect anyone here. There was no reason to be ashamed.

Nevertheless, she still wanted to slip her way out of getting teased, so she jokingly rolled her eyes and said, “You guys said we were going to go swimming, right? Felix is here, and it’s getting dark so we should probably change before it gets too late.”

“The pool is indoors.” Claude helpfully reminded. “It doesn’t matter how late it gets.”

“But that was a good try at dodging, though.” Allegra smirked.

A squeak flew from Marinette’s lips before she could stop it, and the trio shared a laugh.

“Come on, guys.” Allan lightly scolded. “If you keep messing with her like this, she might spontaneously combust.”

Another laugh tumbled from Claude’s lips before he let out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, fine. I guess we can go swimming now.”

“Marinette has to cool off, anyway.” Allegra added with a wink.

Marinette groaned and put her head in her hands, if only to hide her ever-growing blush.

Mental note: Never mention a boy to the group again, because they will probably see right through you when it’s actually serious.

Tag List: @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester @blissful-passing @solangelo252

#felinette #Marinette #Felix Culpa #Quantic Kids #Rosemary AU #New Girl on the Block

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bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Baby, I’ve Already got Your Heart

Summary: An accidental meeting between Armin and Y/N leads to an unhealthy obsession. Pairing: Armin Arlert x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings: stalking, language, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), oral sex (female receiving), switch!Reader, switch!Armin, rope is involved. Word Count: 2.5 k

A/N: This fic is heavily inspired by this song. It is surprisingly wholesome, considering the tags xD

Armin Arlert. The purest man in the world. You accidentally met him one cold, rainy day when he entered your coffee shop for shelter and warmth. He naively talked to you, grateful for how nice you were with him, grateful for the cappuccino on the house, grateful for the towel you offered him to dry himself off. Little did Armin know, a fixation sprouted in your mind and heart, developing into the unhealthiest obsession. He was just so cute — and you just had to have him. It helped to know that you were both going to the same university, and after that, you knew everything about him: his Facebook, Instagram, email address, hell, you even knew his real address. To be fair, it was a piece of cake, the boy was absolutely clueless and whenever he 'accidentally' met you, he thought it was by pure chance. The next and most obvious step was to befriend people in his social circle, one Jean Kirstein, one Sasha Braus and one Connie Springer. Naturally, you did your homework, and you knew his best friends were Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman, but they weren't easy targets. Besides, it would jeopardise your entire plan, as you found Armin was considered a genius. An oblivious genius. He didn't know it yet, but you loved him and he loved you too, right?

A text from Sasha, months after you first met the angelic man, set your plan in motion. A casual gaming night at Armin's place, and you were invited. How perfect. Poor glutton Sasha had no fucking clue how much you were using her, how you told her you want to meet a cute guy, someone nice and caring, someone smart and attentive. The girl put two and two together and decided she just had to introduce you to one of her friends, especially that he was also interested in meeting a girl like you. Unbelievable — you acted surprised, met up with Sasha and left for Armin's little gaming night. You wouldn't let this opportunity go to waste. Starting from tonight, he'd be yours. Forever.

"Armiiiiiiiiin, I brought a plus one!" Sasha barged into his house. "This is my friend, Y/N. Y/N, Armin! Oh shit, pretzels!" The brown-haired woman left the two of you in the hallway and the blond flashed you a smile.

"I feel like I've seen you before." He mused as he closed the door behind you.

"If you ever drink coffee at Rose's you might've seen me there." You smiled and removed your leather jacket, revealing a Pearl Jam t-shirt.

"No way you listen to them!" Armin blurted.

"Are you kidding me? They're my favourite!" You lied through your teeth with a sickly-sweet smile.

"Mine too! Oh, I know, you're the girl who gave me a free cappuccino months ago!"

"I remember! You were drenched in rainwater." You laughed as the two of you entered the living room. "I had to mop up the puddles you left behind."

"I'm so sorry about that..." He blushed. Your heart fluttered and you couldn't wait to get your hands on him, but for the time being, you needed to behave.

"No worries, I just hope you didn't catch a cold." You assured Armin and sympathetically placed a hand on his shoulder. There he goes, blushing again. It couldn't be... was he a virgin? Fuck. This was better than you could've imagined.

"Who's this?"

"Oh, Mikasa, Eren, this is Y/N. She's friends with Sasha."

"Nice to meet you!" Eren shook your hand. "Oh, God, you listen to Pearl Jam, too? You nerds are going to get along just fine." He joked.

The night went great, and you actually had fun with Armin and his friends, despite not intending to mingle with them too much. People started leaving around 2 am, but Eren and Mikasa stayed longer. Too fucking long — and things were boring now anyway. You and Armin kept talking about video games and books, Mikasa fell asleep on Eren who was playing fucking Farmville on his phone. They had to leave as soon as possible.

"Hey, Y/N, we can take you home." Eren suggested and you froze. Shit.

"Didn't you say you're almost out of gas?" Armin questioned his friend.

"Ah, fuck, you're right. I still don't know how that happened — I fuelled the tank yesterday!" The brunette scoffed. "Guess you're on your own, Y/N."

"It's alright, I'll take an uber." You politely smiled.

"Alright, we'll wait for you."

Oh, for fuck's sake. Truth be told, you appreciated how nice and caring Armin's friends were, but you had a different goal to accomplish.

"You really don't have to, plus I have to use the bathroom." You excused yourself. "Um, where is the bathroom exactly?"

"Upstairs, first door on the right." Armin told you while gathering plates and cups from the table. You nodded and climbed up the stairs. Your hand hovered over the bathroom doorknob for a good minute, eyes drifting to the door next to it. Armin's bedroom, by the looks of it. Surely, you could take a look, right? Fuck it. You opened the second door and at first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. LED and fairy lights encircled a corner of his room and, curiously, you walked closer to see what that was, because it didn't look like a desk. Your Y/E/C widened when you saw tens of framed photographs of yourself on the square table, objects you thought you lost and — Jesus, was that your bra? A rush of anxiety hit you, but before you could do anything, a blow to your head blurred your vision.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

Dark lashes fluttered as you opened your eyes. The sudden realisation that you were naked and restrained to a bed made you jolt. What just happened?

"Fucking finally, I thought you'd never wake up." Armin greeted you, but his voice was different, deeper and darker.

"Ar-ugh, Armin?" You groaned at the stinging sensation at the back of your head.

"You know, I was relieved you didn't leave with Sasha, otherwise you would've slipped between my fingers again."

Again?

"Ugh, and Eren and his stupid idea. 'We'll take you home.'" He mocked his best friend with a high pitch. "I've been dreaming for this moment since I walked into that shitty coffee shop."

You were at a loss for words. This was not the Armin you fantasised about, not the Armin you wanted. He was much more and much worse. And. So. Much. Better.

Alright then, you'd put up a show for him.

"P-please, Armin, please untie m-me! I'll be good, I p-promise!" You stuttered and whimpered, trying your best to sound genuine.

"Why, so you can run away?" The blond scoffed. So, he didn't know you stalked him. What a twist.

"I won't r-run, I swear!"

"Bullshit." Armin bent over your body, hands around your neck. You gasped and pretended to be startled by his touch, but in reality, your core was already burning with lust. You knew you couldn't keep up with this charade. "No, Y/N, I won't untie you. But we'll have so much fun." He sneered.

"You promise?"

"Yes. Wait—"

Your laughter filled the bedroom, genuine laughter that baffled Armin. Was this some sort of reverse psychology trick?

"Oh, Armin, even when you reveal your true colours, you're still oblivious to the reality of what's in front of you."

"Then enlighten me, what am I so oblivious to?" He folded his arms across his chest and waited.

"The fact that this was my fucking plan, too." You stretched as much as your restraints allowed you to and licked your lips. "I guess we both stalked each other without even knowing. How ridiculous."

"I think I would've known if you stalked me, Y/N."

"Really? Let me prove it, then. Your favourite food's Carbonara pasta, your favourite drink is peach and lychee iced tea, favourite movie is Interstellar, you lived on Sheena street until you were 12–"

"That's common knowledge, Sasha could've told you any of that." Armin blurted, growing impatient.

"You watch BDSM and asphyxiation porn between 10 pm and 11 pm every Tuesday, you're a virgin, you own a fleshlight–"

"Fuck, alright!" He threw his hands in the air, defeated. "So, what next?"

"You untie me and you tear me apart, Armin, that's what's next."

The blond hesitated before removing the cuffs on your ankles, still unsure about the ropes around your wrists. Clearly, you weren't making things up, but what were the chances of both of you stalking each other? For a brief moment, Armin felt guilty for hitting you and practically holding you captive, and you could see that on his face, but obsession and desire soon took over, and he reverted back to his darker self. His soft hands moved from your ankles to your knees, up your thighs and stomach, stopping above your chest, deciding it's best if you're not fully free. Armin licked his lips and climbed on top of you, unbuttoning his flannel shirt. You thought was surprisingly strong for such a thin man, but when the unbuttoned shirt revealed his chiselled abdomen, it made sense why he was strong.

"The wrists, Armin." You insisted but the blond clicked his tongue.

"I like you better when you're helpless." He pressed his lips onto yours in a hot kiss. A great kiss, you thought, your tongues wrestling for supremacy.

"Please, I want to touch you! I need to..." You trailed off, intoxicated by his smell, notes of saffron and cardamom. His hands roamed your shoulders, tickling your axilla and groping your breasts. "Please let me touch you, Armin!" You begged again, but he didn't say a word, his hot breath fanning over your oversensitive nipples, goosebumps all over your skin. His pink tongue poked out of his mouth and you watched him painstakingly slowly lick one of your nipples. It literally pained you to be unable to touch him, pull him closer to you. Alas, you had no choice, and despite yearning to be in control, it aroused you to have him control you.

"You smell so sweet." He abruptly stopped. "I bet you taste sweet, too."

"Armin..." His words made you brace yourself. While you weren't a virgin, you've never had anyone eat you out. The blond was already in between your legs, one hand resting under your thigh, the other gently touching your slick folds. Armin was so careful, like you were made of glass, and the ticklish sensation didn't help you at all. You wanted him to ram his cock inside of you and rearrange your guts, but he wanted to take his sweet time. The teasing only made you dizzy with pleasure, and you bucked your hips, trying to get him to move faster.

"You really need to learn to be patient, Y/N." Armin purred, pressing gentle kisses on your thighs. He lazily dragged his tongue across your slit, electricity shooting through your body. God, how you wanted to rip those ropes apart. Two fingers entered you and the blond gingerly licked your clit.

"Fuck– so... so good ah–" You couldn't form a sentence even if your life counted on it. Gradually, you could feel your orgasm building up and Armin sensed it, picking up the pace. His fingers thrusted harder and you arched your back, the intensity too much for you. "Armin, please! I wanna come with your cock in me!" The begging didn't stop him, he was determined to make you finish then and there. And he did — within seconds you melted under his touch, legs trembling with pleasure. Armin pulled back, his mouth messy with saliva mixed with your juices.

"You come when I want you to come." His voice was low, almost like a growl. He unbuttoned his jeans, and you watched him like a hawk, waiting to see just how big his was, and you were not disappointed.

"Please please please let me suck it, please!" You begged him, eager to taste him. He smirked and kissed you, all the while rubbing his cock.

"You want this?" Armin quirked a brow at you. The little shit, jacking off in front of you and you couldn't even do anything about it.

"Armin..."

"Say it. Say you want it."

"Armin!"

"Say it, Y/N." He groaned, precum leaking from his member. Fuck.

"I... I want it..." You eventually gave up.

"Good girl." The blond climbed back on top of you. He raised your hips and you placed your legs on his shoulder, his first thrust slow and deep. Armin couldn't help the moan escaping his lips — this was so much better than that shitty fleshlight and countless porn videos. You couldn't deny the fact that it hurt, despite your soaking cunt, but you quickly adjusted to his size. As Armin pounded you, the bed underneath the two of you started moving and screeching, and the ropes tied to the metal bedframe loosened and you felt your arms fall onto the pillows. In his frenzy, the blond didn't notice, so you took this opportunity to lower your legs and wrap them around his waist, one hand grabbing his soft locks, the other wrapping around his neck. You used his weight against him and turned him over. You were in control.

Armin was taken aback by this, but the feeling of your fingers squeezing his throat only turned him on more. You bounced up and down, throwing your head back and groaning. He gripped your hips tightly, thrusting his own hips against yours.

"F-fuck me harder, Y/N!" He begged and you sped up. You felt like a queen — no, a goddess — when he asked you to fuck him, the feeling of him inside of you so addictive. He was your drug, and your rehab, your poison, and your antidote. And you were his and his only. His cock was twitching in your cunt and knew he was close but you didn't want to risk it. Swiftly, you got off of him and wrapped your lips around his dick, bobbing your head up and down. It didn't take long for him to finish, hot liquid shooting down your throat with one final grunt. You swallowed it all and threw yourself next to him. It was breaking dawn already, but you weren't tired. Physically, yes, both of you were exhausted, but mentally it felt like you discovered a hidden gem.

"What the fuck did we just do?" Armin calmly caressed your hair as you nuzzled his neck.

"Are we talking about the obsessively stalking each other part or the part where you hit me in the head? Or the fucking?"

"The everything." He explained. "This is wrong."

"Did it feel wrong?" You asked him, your fingers idly tracing circles over his chest.

"Well, no..."

"Then it's not wrong." You shrugged. "Am... am I yours?"

"Yes." The blond instantly replied without a trace of hesitation in his voice. "Am I?"

"You've been mine the moment you set foot in that shitty coffee shop." You laughed.

"And what are we going to tell the others?"

"That we ended up talking all night and I stayed over?"

"Sounds like a plan." Armin kissed your forehead.

"By the way, I really don't like Pearl Jam." You admitted.

He laughed and it filled your heart with warmth. You have no idea why you and Armin were like that, or how things would be from now on, but you had a good feeling about it. Things were okay. You two were okay.

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