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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Eunoia

The Mantis crew decides to take a well deserved break. Word Count: 2422

Warning(s): straight fluff, short Requested: yep This can be read for a female, male, non binary, or any other reader.

Eunoia is the shortest English word containing all five main vowel graphemes. It comes from the Greek word εὔνοια, meaning "well mind" or "beautiful thinking”. It is also a rarely used medical term referring to a state of normal mental health. In rhetoric, eunoia is the goodwill a speaker cultivates between himself and his audience, a condition of receptivity. In book eight of Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle uses the term to refer to the kind and benevolent feelings of goodwill a spouse has which form the basis for the ethical foundation of human life.

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･ *

Cal is actually not as observant as people think he is. You know because you’ve been leaning against his doorway, watching him, for about two minutes now and he hasn’t noticed a thing.

Maybe if you were in his position you’d be the same. That seems about right. He’s hunched over his desk with the lamp on bright, tinkering with something that you can only assume is for BD-1. He’s probably lost in thought. Maybe he’s dreaming of better days. Or maybe he’s just trying to figure out which wires and bolts connect to which. There’s no way to be certain from your position. He’s the mechanic, you are not.

So why have you been watching the redhead from his doorway for three minutes now? A simple answer. He is your friend, and you enjoy his company. Even when he’s not giving you attention, completely unaware to your presence in moments like this one, lost in his own world, it’s his warmth that really counts. Cal is such a relaxing bout of fresh air compared to everything else in the galaxy, in your life. It’s like being at a great party, but whether you enjoy it or not, stepping outside and tasting the air and the smell of something wonderful. Even if you had a day full of talking to people and had become burned out, talking to Cal would have been no problem at all. Maybe in a way that makes him your favorite person.

Yeah, maybe.

BD-1 jumps onto Cal’s desk. His head looks at the boys hands, cocking about as if observing. Then he meets your gaze, only to find a smile. One index finger raises to your lips, prompting the little droid to stay quiet about this, before you turn away and head towards the main part of the ship.

“Where’s Cal?” Greez gruffs upon seeing you. He’s shaking spice onto a steaming brown plate, which puts a pep in your step. Greez’s cooking always makes life better.

“In his room,” you answer. You turn from the doorway to the counter, where something hot does cause stringy, swirly puffs of air to waft upwards from a large metal container. With your back to Greez, you pull a plate for yourself and begin hulling it full of food. Some sort of rice or grain?

“Hmph, that reminds me,” the Latero begins mid-chew. “Me and Cere was talking about taking a vacation.”

“Vacation?” you scrunch your eyebrows and put the lid back on the container. “Where to?”

“The beach maybe?”

You scoff as you turn around and lean on the counter. One hand holds the plate while the other uses your index finger to prod at the mush. It smells alluring. The individual pieces of it stick to your skin. They burn and sting, but it’s so small it doesn’t bring much of a reaction. “I don’t know a lot of beaches.”

“Well, ya know,” Greez shrugs. “Just a thought.”

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･ *

It was more than just a thought. Six days later, the Mantis touches down on Scarif. But first there’s the issue of landing.

“Watch that tree,” you point, leaning over Cal’s shoulder as he co-pilots beside Greez. A second later, the ship gives a great rock and the palm tree crunches beneath it. “You weren’t watching the tree.”

“Sorry,” Cal offers sheepishly.

“What?” Greez says. He’s the one in main control of the ship. He’d never let Cal take over the whole thing. “What he do?”

“Ran over a tree,” you snort.

“Cal!” Cere scolds, turning around in her chair.

“I said I was sorry!” Cal defends.

“I’m telling the wookies what you did,” you whisper.

“Don’t,” Cal whispers back, though it’s still desperate.

The Mantis parks itself in a field of tropical emerald on the cuff of a beach. The sand is white, the waves cyan and royal blue and sloshing. There’s several beaches on the planet. All of which are very beautiful. Would be a true shame if anything were to ever happen to Scarif. It’s so different compared to so many other planets in the galaxy- not occupied by Imperial forces or scumbags.

Greez waves everybody off. Cere exits first. Cal is ahead of you, but he steps to the side and rather gentlemanly insists, “You first.”

You hum and move past him. The Scarif air hits your face with a warm breeze. It smells of salt and water and some kind of flower. The horizon goes orange and pink and salmon with the setting sun. It is... serene. It nearly knocks you off your feet. It takes his voice to realize Cal is beside you at the bottom of the ramp.

“Woah,” he offers simply, in as much awe as yourself.

“Woah,” you repeat in agreement. It’s still for a second. “Come on. Let’s join them. Or else I’ll have to cast a Jedi mind trick on you.” Your fingers wiggle up and down by Cal’s face for dramatic effect.

Cal rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he utters with a push on your elbow, urging you forward into the sand.

Okay, so maybe you like Cal more than just a friend. But who can blame you? Things had been feeling different between you two lately. You’d always gotten along pretty smoothly. You made up for skills that Cal seemed to lack himself, and his abilities- human and nonhuman- never ceased to amaze you. He was a friend. And then, when you tended to the stab wound he’d gotten from Vader, there was a moment where you held each others eyes. After that, the joking became more constant. The little touches on the shoulders and elbows and forehead taps happened more often. And you started watching him from his doorway sometimes and... and at some point you just caught feelings.

Cal Kestis seemed to feel the same, but who could really say? No use poking that bear right now.

The sand is soft, even beneath your boots. Cere stands in front of the water, just breathing in the air. The light breeze makes her vest ripple. It’s tempting to just join her.

“Gotta say,” you hear a familiar voice say from your left and below. “We picked a nice place.”

“Maybe we should stay a while,” you joke, though you secretly hope for it, to Greez.

“Yeah,” Greez rolls his eyes. “Until this moron gets us into trouble again!”

Cal perks up. “What did I do?”

“Anybody who can lift things with their mind is gonna attract some attention, kid. You just brought it on us.”

“So true,” you jump on with a smirk to Cal.

“Alright,” Cal turns away towards the beach. You position yourself so you’re closer to him, and Greez takes the opportunity to waddle away further ahead to waves.

“Sorry for bursting your bubble, Cal,” you continue with a smug grin. “Maybe in the next life, don’t be born with force powers? Just a suggestion.”

“You think you’re so funny,” Cal tells you, though he’s smiling too. His pale green eyes spare a glance at you, thick lashes dancing on his boyish face.

Your knees bend until you collapse on your bottom in the sand. It’s so soft, it doesn’t even resist your weight. It makes way for you easily, like a blanket. “I do.”

Cal joins you in the sand quickly enough. You’re both face to face, the wind in your hair and the water at your side. It crashes every few seconds, but it’s peaceful. Some kind of bird flies overhead, and butterflies are in the forested area behind you. The light of the sunset illuminates Cal’s hair more than usual. The brightest points of his eyes are highlighted.

“He loves you,” you offer.

“You think so?”

“I am one hundred percent certain... Just don’t touch the ship.”

Cal raises his hands as if surrendering. “Understood. Hands off.”

You turn your head to the water. Greez and Cere are standing ahead, most likely having a conversation of their own. The tide carries so much of the stress your shoulders hold away from you. Everything with the holocron, the empire- it was ridiculous what living in hiding could do to a person. It’s hard to imagine how Cal did it for so long. How painful that must’ve been for him. How painful it is to imagine him in pain.

“How’s your stomach?” you decide to ask at last.

Cal tilts his head for a second. “Better.”

“Perfect?” you raise your knees to your chest and rest your arms on them.

Just then, a little whirring noise pulls both of your attentions away. BD-1 bounds down the ramp of the ship, twirling around in observance as if excited. “Hey, BD,” Cal greets. “I know, buddy. I know.” The droid places itself in Cal’s lap, still looking around at the change in scenery.

“We’ve never been able to do this before,” you tell him. “I mean, I wasn’t here for the whole adventure. But I was here after and before and... and just... we’ve never done this.”

Cal is quiet. “I haven’t either.”

You look at him.

“Taken a break. I guess time on Bracca was the closest thing.”

You smile softly. “I’m sure it was really nice.”

Cal rolls his eyes along with his head, though the corner of his chapped pink lips turn upwards. “As nice as it could be with the Empire.”

“That’s pretty nice.”

Cal and you huff a humorous puff of air in unison.

“What were you doing before the Mantis?” Cal suddenly asked.

“Oh,” you roll your eyes and wave your hand. “Not important. Don’t even worry about it.”

“Come on!” Cal shifts.

“I’m serious!” you defend. “It’s boring stuff. You wouldn’t want to hear about it. Not as interesting as the force.”

“Well anything related to you is interesting,” Cal says casually, one of his palms lifting in the air for effect as he shifts again.

Well that makes your face feel hot. Anything related to you is interesting. How often do people get to hear that? And how casually it comes out of Cal’s mouth, the shrug of his shoulders that you tie so easily to him, that’s how you know it’s honest. Not only have you heard something intimate that not many people will in their whole lives, but it was also heartfelt.

“Yeah,” you mutter, though it sounds distant and far away as you watch Cal’s eyes. He doesn’t seem to mind. Then you snap back to reality. “This is gonna be good.”

Cal watches you pop to life, standing up entirely and running towards the water. BD-1 perks up as well to watch you just in time to see your much bigger form nearly knock the Latero over. And, much to Cal’s surprise, the little droid jumps from his lap and bounds after you. The red head decides he’s next to follow.

“BD-1,” he rasps, also nearly pushing Greez to the ground. “Don’t touch the water!”

But it’s too late. However, nothing happens. BD-1 stands in the shallow waves, unelectrocuted and unbroken. He doesn’t spark a bit, only cocking his head in wonder at his friend.

“Think fast!” a voice calls.

A splash of warm and salty water slaps against Cal’s face. He cringes, turning his shoulders away on impact with a little gasp that makes his throat burn. “Hey!”

Another splash.

Cal turns to you. You’re standing with your hands on either side of yourself, open and matching your smug and proud face. Your boots are still on, which can’t be comfortable given that they’re now submerged in water. BD-1 is on the back of your shoulders- something Cal thought was only between him and the droid. Apparently not.

“What’s wrong, Cal? Can’t handle the current?”

Cal stills himself. Then he bends down himself and flicks water upwards.

“Hey! No!”

He does it once more.

“No!”

So you too repeat your original actions and begin forcing salty liquid up into the air in Cal’s direction as well. BD-1 grips onto your collar for stability while you both go to town, careful to not open your mouths too wide and taste the saltiness.

“Be careful you two!” Cere calls from the shore. Neither Cal nor yourself heed her words, continuing on in disrupting the tide.

“They’re fine,” Greez assures with the wave of one of his many arms.

“Are you sure about that?” Cere responds with a hand on her hip as she watches you tackle the Jedi to the sandy terrain below the shallow water.

“Completely fine.”

You push both of Cal’s shoulders down jokingly, careful not to subdue his head under the water. He cranes his neck to keep it above the waves. Through his soft lashes, Cal can just see your smiling, evil intentioned face with BD-1 on your shoulder gazing at him.

Honestly, it feels just how it did last week- the last time you had watched Cal in his room. Gazing at him, admiring him. Just now you get to touch him, relax with him, splash water at him, even. You wish you could capture this moment if not forever, then for a while, and Cal wishes the same.

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･ *

Sorry it’s short. Idk if it’s my best work certainly but I haven’t written for Cal or Star Wars in a while. But I didn’t kill the reader in this fic or have someone sick or in danger! So it might be my first ever straight fluff? I don’t know. But what a good character to do it with. I’m glad to give Cal a break. And i hope the requester enjoys.

#cal kestis imagines #cal x reader #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis fluff #fluff #cal kestis imagine #jedi fallen order imagine #jedi fallen order x reader #jedi fallen order fanfiction #fanfiction #cal kestis fanfiction #cal fanfiction #cal imagine #cal imagines #imagine #star wars fanfiction #jfo fanfiction #star wars fluff

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iceprincessviviane · 3 years

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Flowers of the peace

Pairing: c!Technoblade x Fem!Nymph!Reader

Type: Romantic/fluff; oneshot.

Warnings: mild swearing, mention of angst and injury and silly jokes created by me.

Summary: Technoblade is travelling to the center of smp to get some buisness done. He met Y/n and finally decided to talk with her about a very important case for him. Including more characters.

Words in red colour are Technoblade's voices.

My first x reader fic, spontaneous one.

Today was a quite warm day even in tundra, small layer of snow was covering the ground and sky was half covered by the clouds, which weren't moving a lot. Around was very quiet despite the time, it was almost noon. Animals were resting or sleeping, deadly hound lied calmly around. It seemed, it was such a lazy day. Technoblade went outside holding small backpack and putting something into it. He tied his hair into small bun, rest of them was falling on his back and he was wearing part of casual armor. Phil seeing that, also went outside.

"Hi mate, where are you going?" He asked curiously with gentle smile.

"I'm heading to main Smp part. I have some buisness to finish with Ranboo. I hope in that time it won't be crowded." He responeded and closed backpack.

They both looked at old Ranboo's home in mountain wall. Actually there still were some basic stuff, active farm and some villagers. Enderman hybrid moved to his and Tubbo's mansion in Snowchester two weeks ago. They kinda missed him, but he promised to visit them a lot of times and even stay for some cold weather and fresh air. Also he was still involved in Syndicate stuff.

"Be careful mate then." Philza said with serious tone.

'We miss Enderboy.' 'Let's do it fast.' 'Who will we meet else?'

Technoblade nodded and took Karl. He put a small backpack near the saddle and check everything. Diamond armor was shinning brightly in the sunlight.

"I will don't worry, I just hope to not meet Tommy..." His eyes narrowed. He still didn't forget and forgive young boy.

"Well just avoid bench area. You are going to meet Ranboo in Snowchester?"

"He said that he will be around Community House or Prime path."

"Tell him my sincere greetings." Phil smile widened.

Technoblade jumped at Karl and waved to his companion. Soon he was headed to main Smp part. Today wasn't the day for using a portals. Beautiful weather was conductive for horse riding. Karl seemed to be happy at sudden trip.

}*{

After a two hours Technoblade reached the Community House. He could go to Snowchester first, but honestly he wanted to avoid that area, which smelled like government. He dismounted Karl and took his bridle. Not a chance leaving his horse alone. Here was much warm then in tundra, not coulds and even wind stopped. Around wasn't even a single soul, so he sighted and started to walking down on Prime path. Karl was complelty calm, so he trusted him, but checked his sword, if he can take it fast. When he got near to Tommy's dirt house, he heard Tommy's loud laughing. After reaching the top of the hill he spotted Bench Trio standing there and chatting. Suddenly three pair of eyes looked at him. There was dead silence. Tubbo moved near to Ranboo when Tommy put a hand on Axe of Peace, which hanged of his bolt. They don't have armour, clearly having a good time in this lazy day. Technoblade nodded to them.

"What are you doing here?" Tommy asked with sharp tone.

Since Dream have been in the prison Smp was more calm, most people was minding their buisness, the biggest war was over and it seemed like everyone sighted with relief. Even now this Eggpire cleaned awful vines. Tommy started building his hotel, none was fighting.

"I came here to finish buisness." Techno responed slowly moving his eyes on Ranboo.

Tall teenager looked at his clock, gave himself a facepalm and sighted.

"Oh I am so sorry, I wasn't watching the time..." He said with embarrassment.

"What the fuck man? What deal did you make with him?" Tommy spoke with anger.

'Why he need to be so loud?' 'Just make it done.' 'Cut him.'

Technoblade moved a little bit closer and Ranboo started to search something in his backpack, mumbled to himself.

"Oh... hi everyone...!"

On the path leading to La'Manhole now was standing Y/n with basket full of field flowers and some saplings of roses, tulips and pansies. Her light dress was waving a little on sudden wind and bright smile caused everyone to smiled back.

"Hi Y/n!" Tubbo said and get closer to look at flowers. "Where did you get them?"

"Filed flowers around the... La'Manburg and saplings are from my own flowerbends. You asked me to bring some to your garden and rooms." She responed slowly.

"Oh yes! We asked Foolish of possible ways to decorate garden and flowers for a bees!" Tubbo said with excitement.

When it comes to the bees, Tubbo could talk over and over. Y/n was patience and describe in details flowers which she brought. Meanwhile Tommy moved his eyes again on Technoblade only to rise eyebrows with surprise. Piglin hybrid was like frozen, carefuly observing Y/n. Teenager lips formed into mischief smile.

"I found it!" Ranboo screamed in victory, holding something like gold in his big hand.

Technoblade snapped back to reality and nodded to Enderboy, to move away. He didn't want rest to know, what about deal is. They moved to bench. Karl snorted a little bit.

"Here it is." Ranboo opened his hand, Totem of Undying was inside. Technoblade smiled and nodded to him with satisfied smile.

"As we agreed emeralds and netherite ingot."

They made an exchange, Technoblade quickly hid Totem in his pocket and Ranboo put stones and ingot inside his backpack.

"Pleasure making buisness with you." Blade said with teasing tone.

"You too and I have more, if you want."

" We will see in the future."

Enderman hybrid moved his eyes on his husband and Y/n, there were still chatting peacefuly. Tommy was listening quietly and seemed that he lost interesting at their deal.

'Finally!' 'Let's go home.' 'Maybe stay for a while...'

"Deal is done?" Tommy asked loudly causing Tubbo and Y/n to look at Technoblade and Ranboo.

"Yes. We are done." Piglin hybrid confirmed in neutral voice.

Ranboo moved closer to group, leaving Technoblade with Karl. They stepped again on path after that.

"I think we can head to Snowchester then. Y/n has everything to make gardening and I am willing to help her!" Tubbo clapped hands.

"Yup. I am going to choose my room finally." Tommy emphasized last word strongly.

"Oh you shloud do the same Y/n. As we promised, you can decorate it as you wish." Ranboo said with warm smile.

Y/n lifted head and her eyes meet Techno's. His cute ears dropped a little, but he moved closer to them. Tommy stepped a little to avoid crash with Karl. Soft smile appeard on Y/n lips.

"Technoblade."

"Y/n."

Bench Trio silenced immediately, they could feel the tension in the air. After La'Manburg destruction Y/n lost her home, actually she was neighbor with Ranboo there, but she managed to build one small house in wild fields full of flowers, which was quite away. The closest things were Kinoko Kingdom and Niki's Underground City. Sometimes she wandered to La'Manber ruins and after that usually hanging up with Tommy. She visited Ranboo couple of times in tundra and even had a small talk with Phil. But when Technoblade showed up... they shared awkward silence and shy glances, which were speaking instead of words.

In his retirement they spent a lot of time together, despite the cold in tundra. Her peacefuly pressence caused voices to melt, only quiet whispers appeard. When she was speaking, they were always silence. Technoblade could listen and observe her for ages. They were so diffrent, but something connected them and attraced them to each other. She was standing with Phil on balcony, holding his hand so hard and tears streaming from her beautiful eyes, when Technoblade have been lead to execution. He later told him that Y/n almost fainted when he survived and escaped. She stayed in threshold, knocking sotfly at cottage doors, same day, late night and silence around. When he opened, he immediately put a finger on her mouth and whispering explained that Tommy somehow escaped exile and was sleeping in cellar. So Y/n said nothing, when Technoblade let her in, just hugged him so tightly and burried her face in his chest. With smelling her scent, he calmed himself and slowly forget about rage and happenings on that day.

But after Doomsday everything changed. Technoblade was busy with revenge, deep inside he didn't want to involved Y/n for her safety... but they moved away from each other. She need to build new house, didn't want to completly leave her friends around. Especially when Tommy and Tubbo found in her big comfort. She visited Tommy in exile couple of times, always bringing warm words and usefull advices. After Discs Finale, when Dream have been put into a prison, they needed her a lot. Tommy would never confessed that he had nightmares about Tubbo's death and himself being trapped in cell. Technoblade was busy with forming Syndicate, spending days on planning, building and searching stuff. He heard from Ranboo how Y/n was doing, but there always weren't time to talk.

And now they were here.

'We miss her angelic voice.' 'Stop staring, do something.' 'Stab Tommy.'

"I really don't want to interrupt this strange moment, but..." He couldn't even end, because Technoblade stepped at his foot. His shoes had small heels and was shod with metal.

Y/n giggled softly breaking eye contact with Technoblade and blushed a little bit.

"Can we talk?" Blade asked with deep voice.

"Of course." She nodded then handed her basket to Tubbo. He immediately straigthed his back, because of this important task. Technoblade gave without hesitation Karl's bridle to Ranboo, which eyes expanded and he grabbed it with his full strenght. When horse would run away... oh boy.

"It looks like we got important tasks." Tubbo said with full serious in his voice.

Ranboo nodded to him, when Tommy literally rolled his eyes.

Technoblade and Y/n moved slowly and silently aside, stepping away from path and walking on grass. She faced the sun, pulling her hair together, it laid freely on her back. Some strands still stayed on her face and Technoblade had to use his all strenght to resist taking them off. He just couldn't. Her scent full of flowers reached his nose, taking deep breath felt like heaven.

"Weather is very good." He started slowly and little unsure.

Y/n turned back to him with shy smile, studing hia posture. "Oh yes, it's warmer this days. My flowers age growing fast and I really enjoy the sun." She glanced at him. " Isn't too hot for you in this cape?"

"Well, I am still living in tundra and come on, style is breathtaking "Technoblade spread a little his arms.

Y/n could easily spotted part of armor on his arms and legs. It wasn't his best one, but he was still prepared for any fight. Yes, he looked very good, handsome. She couldn't help her slighty blushing cheeks.

"Are you moving to the mansion?" Techno finally asked, his voice was dead serious.

Y/n looked directly at his eyes with surprise. She didn't expect such a question. "No, I mean they offered me room, to stay in longer visits or if I would like to have a nap. I really enjoy their company."

He made a step closer and lean down, almost forgot how small she was compared to him. They both felt burning glances of Bench Trio.

"I miss you." He whispered honestly.

'We are missing her voice, scent and pressence.' 'We need her.' "We want her.'

"I... I miss you too." She responded quietly.

Pleased smile crawled at Technoblade's lips. Deep inside he was really happy about that, but didn't want to show it in front of Bench Trio. Y/n looked down with sudden shyness.

He took gently her small, compared to his hand. She squeezed lightly his fingers in response. "Would you like to...?"

"Y/n! We need to go, hurry up!" Tubbo screamed while was holding her basket.

"Yeah come one, we have a lot of stuff to do!" Tommy agreed.

Technoblade sighted after this rude cut, but Y/n shrugged with helplessness and playful smile. She hugged him tightly for goodbye, his second hand rested on her flabby waist.

"Meet me here after sunset." She whispered before letting him go.

He nodded before he let go of her hand. Y/n waved to him and went to Trio Bench. Ranboo gave Techno Karl's bridle. He observed while group was heading to Snowchester, then he jumped at horse and started to moving into tundra's direction.

}*{

Technoblade left Karl in hurry, then almost ran into a cottage. Phil frowned observing this from his window, but then shrugged and went take care of his cases. An hour passed and he heard some suspicious sounds from Techno's home, also him swearing. He decided to see what is going on, so went outside and knocked loudly. His friend opened. "Hi Phil, I'm a little busy right now..."

"What happend mate?" Winged man asked looking inside.

"I need to clean whole area..." He sighted with awkward smile.

"But why?"

Technoblade said nothing, it was a little too early to talk about it. "You... need some help honestly?"

"I will be so greatful!" Techno said and went beck to cleaning. Actually he successfuly tided first floor and kitchen, for now put food into a chest and cups into cupboard.

"Chests in magazine too?" Phil asked looking at his friend with confusion. Technoblade made facepalm. "I completly forgot about them... she would like to have order there!" He dropped everything and went down. His companion rose eyebrows with surprise. She?

}*{

Heading second time to main Smp part was faster and full of unsure feelings for Technoblade. Karl seemed to be happy of another trip. When they again reached top of the hill, she was there. Y/n stood near bench in his old crimson cloak, hemmed by fur, watching the sunset. Slowly crimson glow was turned into grey. Horse snorted and she turned head to greet him with warm smile. Technoblade responded with lazy smile and dismount Karl. Moving slowly to her, spotted that she was holding avaraged size, lether backpack and near the bench was closed chest.

"Hi again." Blade said with smile. "I am little bit late but I hope that you wasn't waiting long."

"I actually just came here. Boys let me left mansion three hours ago." She giggled softly.

"You got your room in mansion?"

"Yes... we decorated it with Ranboo's and Tubbo's furnitures."

"So... you have in this chest more personal stuff to put there?" Technoblade asked taking deep breath.

Y/n ignored the question and smiled softly to him. "What did you want me to ask earlier?"

"Well... I think it doesn't matter now." His shoulder dropped.

She looked directly into his eyes. "It matters, because the answer is yes."

Technoblade moved closer with visible confusion. "What?"

"Yes. I am ready for a trip, I have this cloak if it happen to be very cold and even have gloves in pocket."

He studied her figure quickly, under cloak she was wearing warm, woolen dress, completly diffrent that early, light one. High boots and hair braided tightly.

"No." Technoblade looked at her in disbelief.

Y/n nodded and her smile widened. In a blink of eye piglin hybird hugged her tightly. She rested her head against his chest, feeling heat from his body.

'She is going with us.' 'We can't belive.' 'Hurry up, before someone will show up.'

"Let's go, you have to be tired." Technoblade said after a few minutes. He took her chest and pinned it to saddle, Karl stayed calmly. She pated his neck, smiling softly. Blade mounted horse and offer her his hand to help. She grabbed it strongly and sat down sideways.

"Karl can lifted us both?" She asked unsure.

"He lifted heavier things than you sweetheart, you can belive me, he will be good." Techno smiled, he always was impressed by her caring way.

Y/n hugged his waist and again rested her head against his chest. The trip was quietly, they enjoyed each other pressence, when they reached tundra, night fell and snow started slowly rain. Finally they stopped in front of Technoblade's house. Deadly hound didn't even react to new person nearbay and bears was sleeping peacefuly around. Piglin hybrid first dismounted Karl and help Y/n by grabbing her waist and put her on the ground. She nodded in gratitude and grabbed his hand. He took her chest and they reached the stairs.

"You didn't introduce me new visitor?" Phil's voice caught them near doors. Winged man stood in his threshold with crossed arms and playful smile.

"Hi Phil." Y/n said and blushed hardly.

"Tomorrow my friend. You shloud go to the sleep old man." Technoblade teased him.

"I hope you will be gentelman and offer lady a separate bed." Phil winked to them and then went inside his house. "Goodnight lovebirds."

Blade rolled his eyes and opened doors for Y/n. She went inside and looked around carefuly. Nothing changed at all, but maybe one thing...

"You... cleaned whole house." She giggled softly.

"Oh yes and I even created some spare place in cellar for your flowers." He put her chest on the ground and closed door. Their eyes met. Technoblade quickly had covered the distance between them, then cupped her face and gently pressed their lips together. Y/n breathing quickened, same as his heartbeating. After a kiss, their hands found themselfes, when Techno lean his forehead against her.

"I love you." He whispered softly.

"I love you too." She responded quietly.

'We love her.' 'We are going to take care of her.' 'Never, ever let her go again.'

#c!techno x you #c!technoblade x you #c!technoblade x reader #technoblade #dsmp fandom #dream smp #technoblade x reader #technoblade x y/n #dream smp x reader

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nnightskiess · 3 years

Text

₊° 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

₊° 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥

₊° 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲/𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐮𝐩, 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐲/𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐭?

Y/N rolled off of Fallon, sat up and held the thin satin bedsheets up to her chest. They sat in silence for a couple seconds, both women trying to catch their breath. Fallon closed her eyes, the places where Y/N had touched her were still tingling— from her jaw, arms, hips to Y/N’s most favourite place, in between her thighs.

Fallon had hoped to linger a bit longer in her dream like state, but the sound of bedsheets moving blew away the cloud she was on.

“Where are you going?”

“Not everyone was born into a billionaire family, I’ve gotta go to work.”

Fallon rolled her eyes playfully, but felt also partially pissed off. She propped herself up on her elbows and watched the woman graciously dress herself. There was no rush or walk of shame since this was a usual thing for the two of them. Just to release stress, just to be intimate with someone while both of them were single, nothing serious. Sure, they were attracted to each other in a sexual way but that was all it ever would be. No strings attached, as they had both promised each other. Fallon wasn’t interested in another relationship and Y/N didn’t seem the type for it either way.

But lately, Fallon had felt out of control. She blamed it on the situation with her father but knew far too well that it was something rooted deeper, something personal. She had also started to feel different about their time together. The sex was mind-blowing, Fallon wasn’t complaining about that, but her night somehow always felt ruined afterwards. The aching in between her legs no longer was a reminder of a great time, it was a reminder that that was all it was ever going to be. The sex was the only source of satisfaction, but it didn’t last anyway. Because just like now, all memories were being washed away as she watched the woman leave with a cheeky smile on her face. Still, there was no way that Y/N was the problem behind her issues. No. She was just something on the side, how could she ever be the main thing on her mind?

Even after Y/N hadn’t texted or called her for a month, and all Fallon could think about was her, she still pushed the thought to the back of her head and managed to lie to herself that the problem wasn’t Y/N.

Fallon needed to de-stress and since there was no way she’d be vulnerable and text Y/N first, she found herself with a drink in hand, sitting on one of the barstools at Club Colby. She had seen Y/N walk in and had watched her like a hawk. The girl seemed to be talking with friends, no way was Fallon going to join them. Yuck.

“Tough break up?”

The bartender had noticed it too and glanced between her and Y/N. Fallon scoffed and her lip curled into a sneer. She grabbed her glass and walked to the other side of the bar. Her emerald glittery dress, silver heels and her bouncy brown locks caught Y/N’s attention. Fallon seemed to notice too and her sneer immediately turned into a smirk. Y/N nodded her head in acknowledgement and sent her a smile but Fallon was still pissed for being kept in the dark for all those weeks like she was some casual hook-up...well... she was, but still.

She quirked an eyebrow, challenging Y/N on what to do next, but a tanned brunette suddenly blocked their eye-contact. She greeted the group of friends, gave Y/N a quick hug and then, without giving Y/N a second to realise what was going to happen, she grabbed the girl’s neck and started making out with her. Fallon gripped onto her glass in anger, watching Y/N trace the tattoo on the girl’s arm and watched in disgust when they let go of each other and then laughed like some lovey-dovey couple. The brunette hid her face in the crook of Y/N’s neck, giggled and then planted a kiss exactly where Fallon knew she liked it. Fallon furrowed her eyebrows, almost feeling Y/N’s touch on her too when she saw her trace patterns on the girl’s arm.

Fallon downed her drink and slammed it onto the glass table. A few people turned their heads but apparently it hadn’t been loud enough to shake Y/N out of her bubble.

The last straw was when the brunette grabbed Y/N’s hand, leading her outside.

Oh no, no, no— not on her watch.

“Hey!”

Fallon’s yell made the pair stop, the brunette looked confused but Y/N had recognised her voice. Fallon crossed her arms and tilted her head, an eyebrow raised at the two women in front of her. The brunette was beautiful. Her natural tanned skin brought out the glitter in her light green eyes. The slight curls in her hair complemented her face and the tattoo and nose ring made her look even more ethereal— like some warrior princess.

Fallon didn’t falter and pointed between the two,

“Sorry, what is this?!” She sent daggers to the brunette and didn’t soften her expression when her eyes met Y/N, she was just as much in the wrong, maybe even more, since the girl couldn’t have known about her and Fallon— but Y/N did.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t play dumb-”

Fallon’s nostrils flared when the brunette cut her off.

“You said you were single?” She shot a sad, hurtful look Y/N’s way, who immediately raised her eyebrows.

“I am! I mean- I was.”

Fallon didn’t miss the way their hands were intertwined and how they looked at each other after the reminder of their fresh relationship. Fallon’s heart sank in her stomach and she froze up. It suddenly became very clear to her why she had felt so off lately. But after this clear loss, she couldn’t let Y/N know that her heart had just broken into pieces. She was Fallon Carrington, after all. She was indestructible.

“So it’s that easy?”

“What is?”

Fallon’s sneer reappeared, “Think you can discard me like that?” She snapped her finger, “Well, guess again, you’re mine, remember?”

“Let me hit you with the blunt instrument of reality— we never dated, Fallon! We were never a thing! You know that! You can’t treat me like I’m your damn property! You don’t have a leg to stand on in this argument.” Y/N stood her ground.

The statement hurt her more than she wanted to. She suddenly felt like one of her expensive dresses, the ones she fell in love with and thus immediately bought, wore once and then kept hanging in the closet to never be worn again. With a new-found confidence, fuelled by the anger towards both women in front of her, she opened her mouth,

“So what was it then that made you lose interest? Should I have given you a cheque every time you came over? Pay you for your services like some whore? Was that it?”

Fallon realised how messed up it sounded the moment the words left her mouth. Nonetheless, she laced her expression with as much venom as she could muster. Y/N however, seemed to stay rather calm under her hard glance, even though Fallon’s words stung her like a whip.

“Money doesn’t mean a thing to me. But of course you wouldn’t know, since you expect to bribe people with it for your own needs, you damn Carringtons.” She spat out her last name, making Fallon flinch.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Y/N spat out, knowing how ironic that must’ve sounded now that Fallon no longer had her fuck buddy around.

Fallon watch Y/N tug her new girlfriend out of the club.

Well, here’s to another thing she fucked up.

#fallon carrington #fallon x reader #fallon carrington imagines #fallon carrington imagine #fallon carrington x reader #Dynasty #dynasty imagine #dynasty imagines

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amiechuchu · 3 years

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Magic, Mayhem, and All Things In Between

Chapter 3: Background of the Study

[A/N: finally some y/n and loki development. soft loki moments. i am once again back with the self-indulgent fic and i hope you enjoy :’)]

other chapters can be found here

Weeks had passed since you had accepted Mr. Stark’s small favor. Weeks had passed since you began spending the majority of your time with the Asgardian brothers and dear Uncle Bruce. Though the days were filled with chatter, the late nights in the lab were quite the opposite. With only the low hum of machines to keep you company, you realized how lonely it can be. It was unlike the times you spent in the hospital, where you’d be surrounded by fellow doctors, nurses, and patients even at the dead of night. Despite how these late night duties meshed with early mornings, dulling your own sense of time, you didn’t mind it because of the company that you had. Research work, on the other hand, was a different story. Despite your years of experience, the burnout and loneliness that accompanied research work slowly made its way to the deepest parts of your brain.

“Hey,” a voice said as a hand waved in front of you, snapping you out of the trance you were in. It was Loki. “Are you okay, pet? You look rather dead.” The God held up a cup of freshly brewed coffee and passed it on to you.

“I’m fine,” came your quick reply as you received the cup from him, your hands nudging his slightly, “thank you for the coffee by the way.” You gave Loki a weak smile before beginning to sip from the warm cup of comfort that was given to you.

The lack of reaction was unusual. How many times has Loki seen you flustered with just the tiniest forms of physical touch? Probably every single time. Confused, he grabbed a chair and set it down beside you. “Are all you Midgardians always so dishonest about what you feel?” There was that usual bite in his manner of speaking. Though, no matter how hard he tried to hide it in his cold demeanor, he could feel the concern dripping from the words he uttered; the loneliness he saw in your eyes hit too close to home. Did he get too close? Maybe showing that he cared was a mistake.

Keeping your eyes on the warm mug, you hummed in reply, refusing to answer a clear yes. Your eyes glanced up at the God beside you, longing to understand why he’d even bother. Clearly, you were oblivious to any form of care or concern Loki has shown. It wasn’t as if you had your guard up, rather you were quite unfamiliar with the intimacies of talking about your own feelings. Although the question he asked was clearly rhetorical, you still wondered: Do Asgardians not repress their own feelings to prevent them from getting distracted from things that truly matter?

Green orbs stared at yours, noticing the ever darkening bags under your eyes. “I was just concerned,” Loki began, voice softening. The God looked away and focused on the variety of glassware set up on the table adjacent to them, “it has been a while since you’ve left the laboratory. You didn’t even sneak out to the medical wing for a little breather.”

You raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. How could he have noticed all that? How could he have cared at all? After all, you were just a lowly Midgardian, as he put it, and he was a God, a deity, someone with power and importance. “How did you-”

“It pains me that you put me on the same level as them, little doctor,” the God interjected as he faced you once more, “out of all the weeks we’ve spent in this laboratory, you really believed I wouldn’t have noticed.” He noticed the closeness of your proximity; his form inches away from yours, yet your mind was elsewhere.

“In my defense, everyone else I’ve met in this tower described you as a narcissistic asshole and a war criminal,” you shrugged, “so, naturally, I didn't think you would care at all about my well-being.” You took a sip from your cup, and indulged in the buzz the caffeine began to give you. “But I don’t think you’re as bad as they make you out to be. They just didn’t think of the whole story. Just took out a portion of it. It was unfair - what they did to you. It felt as if you always had the short end of the stick.”

Silence.

Now, it was your turn to shock your Asgardian companion. Being on the other end of empathy was foreign to Loki as everyone treated him quite harshly. He grew up in the shadow of Thor, the more loveable sibling, and, as much as he wanted to show off his capabilities, that he was just as worthy as Thor, Loki was left in the darkness, to wallow in promises unkept, to wallow in dreams broken, to wallow in his own great tragedy.

Eyes feeling heavy, You turned your head towards Loki, waiting for a response; though you were a naturally perceptive person, the look on his face was filled with emotions you couldn’t make out. Was he mad? Did you say too much? That analysis was unwarranted, of course he’d be mad. Embarrassed, you looked down on your cup of coffee once more, “I apologize if I said anything out of line. There are just too many things in my mind right now. I don’t think I was able to filter my thoughts very well.”

“Pray tell, dear doctor. What are you thinking of?” Loki replied, deciding to change the course of their conversation. With brows slightly raised and his gaze set at your exhausted form, you felt the God studying you, attempting to break down the essence of what makes the little physician tick.

Deciding to be a smartass, you replied, “like I said, many things.” You set down your cup of coffee on the table and crossed your arms. “Why do you ask, Loki? These past few weeks you’ve been awfully helpful to the point that Uncle says it’s weird and unlikely for you to do that just for a human. I appreciate it though, but I just don’t see why you should go out of your way to listen to me.”

“Your words wound me, doctor,” Loki chuckled, emerald eyes piercing yours, “can I not be concerned? I see years worth of loneliness and unfulfilled expectations in your eyes to the point that you can’t even deny it. I’m sure you understand what isolation and over independence can do.” Your eyes softened, glistening under the incandescent lights. You were cracking slowly, and the God knew this. He knew what you were seeking: comfort, validation, a shoulder to cry on. It was clear as day.

“Well, I could see all the walls you’ve built. You know everything about everybody, but barely anyone knows anything about you,” you attempted to reply proudly; however, your words were breathy, already beginning to shake. So much for an attempted bark. Embarrassed, you looked away defensively, not taking another moment under his perceptive gaze. It felt as if all the skeletons you’ve kept inside your closet were being showcased all of a sudden, and you hated every second of it. Your stomach churned as your defenses slowly came undone; it wouldn’t take a while now for you to start oversharing, possibly even crying your eyes out. His hand tenderly reached out to the edge of your chin and tilted it towards him. It was warm, soothing. Comforting.

“I could say the same to you, darling. You act as if you don’t build walls around you, yet you keep everyone else at arms reach. I know what loneliness and distrust does to people, and I also know that you shouldn’t hold yourself accountable for all these expectations.” There was a slight pang in Loki’s chest as he said all these truths. He too bore wounds invisible to the eye. He too carried scars from the past. These emotions were far too familiar to the raven-haired God much like old friends, and he was afraid that, by reading these off your face, he’d become attached somehow, mended together by a mutual understanding of each other’s pain. What would become of his plan then? His glorious purpose?

Looking up to him, you realized how small you were, how fragile, how easy it was for him to see through your façade. It was oddly nice to have someone who had a grasp on your inner demons, albeit without consent. You felt a connection in the making.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to trust him.

Days have passed since the God of Mischief and the doctor have shared a portion of the thoughts they hid away in the darkest parts of their head. It was needless to say that the two now had an unspoken connection, a commiseration of loneliness, self-doubt, and crushing expectations. Often, they’d find their gazes focused on one another, with smiles shared and laughter exchanged. Other times, a helping hand would linger longer than usual atop the other’s. A gentle squeeze or the light encircling of one’s thumb, a sign of care and concern; these gestures only happened when the two were alone, knowing that dear Uncle Bruce would be highly against it. However, it wouldn’t be long before the others noticed.

You were grateful that today was a relatively slow day in the laboratory. Majority of the specimens that were scheduled for today’s tests were finished earlier than usual along with the case presentations and progress reports Mr. Stark had asked you to make. Though it seemed like such a small feat, you took it positively; today, you could finally take a breather. You hummed happily as you began arranging the mountain of paperwork around the main table.

Upon reaching for the next pile of papers, a familiar hand laid atop of yours. You smiled and looked at your raven-haired companion, admiring the way his tousled locks framed his oh-so ethereal face.

“Do you need help, my dear doctor?” Loki asked as his thumb drew circles on your hand. Though his silvery voice tugged at your heartstrings as they always did, your cheeks were slightly tinged a light shade of red at mention of the pet name. The God never called you his doctor before.

“I can manage,” you replied as you turned your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You kept your gaze on your hands intertwined with his, the way they fit together so perfectly. “It’s surprisingly not as busy today.”

Loki leaned down, his face close behind your neck. “A bit bold today aren’t we, pet?” he jested, breath tickling the side of your ear.

Thor observed the scene from afar, shocked. He never thought that his brother would’ve established a bond with the doctor, not in the way that Loki didn’t deserve any type of social interaction, but in the way that his brother wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. With arms crossed, the God of Thunder continued to watch as the two continued on with their intimacies, wondering when and how this managed to start. He watched the way your eyes lingered on his brother attentively; the way you were able to tug a smile on Loki’s face; the way his face lit up when you were around; the way your gentle touch was able to open a different side of Loki.

Though he was wary of his brother and his antics, Thor disregarded his suspicions: the two of you were much too happy occupied in your bubble of… friendship? No, it was more than that. So much more. Something was blossoming, and the God of Thunder was sure of it. He was unsure of the status of you and Loki’s relationship, but nevertheless he was still happy. However, he wasn’t so sure if your uncle would be so accepting of it, knowing the bad blood between what had happened in New York.

The doors of the laboratory swept open, startling the two friends. Thor coughed loudly to alert his brother and the doctor, but it was already too late for them to fall back to a more believably platonic position. Out came Mr. Stark and Uncle Bruce from the elevators, both shocked at the closeness of you and Loki. Tony looked more curious than shocked at the development. Your uncle, on the other hand, radiated a crushing aura, and, although Uncle Bruce’s face seemed calm and collected at the moment, you knew very well that there was anger hidden underneath it. He always warned you about Loki and the danger he could bring if you got involved, so it was no surprise to you if his anger came from both concern and disappointment.

Awkward air filled the room as the two made their way towards the laboratory’s main table. Loki stepped back away from you, whispering something along the lines of you being okay. You nodded in affirmation then looked down, averting any type of eye contact, and started to fiddle with the sheets of paper you had in hand.

Sighing, you knew it was taboo to speak of the laboratory’s peace out loud since it always brought bad luck. Now, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.

taglist: @gaycatlord-stuff @aces-tattooartist

#mmaatib #magic mayhem and all things in between #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki/you #loki/reader #amie drabbles

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yodawgiherd · 3 years

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End of an Era

It was fun while it lasted guys :)

>>>Read on AO3<<<

And one night, without any warning, the last piece of the puzzle came. The dream told her everything, ran over the entirety of her life, and when the old and wrinkled soldier Mikasa closed her eyes for the last time, she woke up with unshed tears brimming in the corners.

Next to her, the devil she decapitated slept peacefully, with no marks or scars under his eyes. She didn’t want to wake him yet, as there was another person Mikasa needed to talk to right now, so getting out of the bed carefully she located her phone.

“M-Mikasa?”, a yawn, “It’s four in the morning, why are you calling me?”

“I’m sorry Armin, I have to ask you something.”, Mikasa whispered, keeping her voice low not to wake Eren, “please…”

“Sure, just…” another yawn, this time even longer, “Give me a second so I can collect my brain from the dreamland.”

Mikasa could hear the phone being put down and then the rustling of bedding on the other side as Armin was most likely stretching and fully waking up. She waited patiently until he picked the device up again, speaking in a much clearer voice.

“Ok, I guess I’m functional now. What’s up?”

“In the book you are writing, does the main pairing gets a happy ending? Do they get together?”

“I… Uh… Is that why you woke me?”

“Armin, please. It’s important to me.”

In truth, the blond had no idea why Mikasa was suddenly so interested in the ending of his story. Sure, she read it during development and said that it was good, but there’s a difference between that and calling at four AM to grill him about the ending she didn’t get to see yet because Armin finished it about a week ago. Then again, her voice was completely serious and while Mikasa did like some fun pranks from time to time, this didn’t sound like one at all. So, following her wish, Armin gave her an honest answer.

“No, they don’t. The girl is forced to kill her love interest to save the world from him, but it's sort of bittersweet because their friends get to live a happy life after.”

There was a gasp on the other side as if he confirmed some of Mikasa’s suspicions.

“Why?”

“Well, people like angst, and giving everyone a happy ending is a bit of a cliché, no? I mean…”

“Why her though, wasn’t she the heroine?”

“Yes, but she can move on in time you know, forget about him and whatnot.”

There was a bit of silence on the other side before Mikasa spoke again, this time in a small and sad voice.

“Could you change it? Please, for me.”

“How?”

“Just make her happy…”

Running a hand through his sleep-tussled hair Armin puffed out air, turning the possibilities in his head. It wouldn’t be that hard to make Mikasa’s wish come true. He had a lot of supernatural going on in his book, monsters, and gods, a simple resurrection wouldn’t break the story. Plus it was rare to hear Mikasa beg like this, she was usually the “cool and stoic” type, and it tugged at Armin’s heart.

Hell, why not.

“All right, I’ll do it somehow.”

“You will?!”

“Yeah, but you’ll owe me one.”

There was happy and relieved laughter on the other side.

“Of course, I’ll do anything Ar, thank you so much!”

With a click, the call ended and Mikasa let out a long breath, rubbing the unshed tears from her eyes. It would seem that Armin wasn’t writing a story, more like remembering it, but unlike the one that happened this one would get a different ending.

Mikasa told Eren everything over breakfast, hugging a warm cup of coffee with both hands. He didn’t say anything while she spoke, just listened, his green eyes taking all of her in, both words and gestures. Only when she finished did he let out a long breath, one that felt like he was holding in for an eternity.

“This is a lot to take in.”, he said, “Especially at once.”

“I know…, you don’t have to believe me but…”

“I believe you. Every word.”

“Just like that?”

A firm nod.

“You believe it, and I see no reason why I should not. Past lives and other-universe memories can exist, it's not like the entire human psyche has been mapped.”

He looked away for a second.

“The Eren you described, he is so different than me, yet so terrifyingly similar in some aspects. I can sit here and say that I would never cause the apocalypse but in his place…? I just can’t know for sure.”

“I guess we are lucky that we don’t have to find out.”, Mikasa offered, “This life is so much better than whatever they went through...”

“For sure.”

“And that’s not all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I think I married someone… Jean maybe? Had kids with him too.”

“Oh my god.”, Eren threw an arm over his face dramatically, “Out of all people, why him?”

“I… I don’t know if it was him but….”

“Please Miki, I get that I died, and you wanted to move on, but didn’t your past life have any taste ?”

“Hey! Jean is nice.”

He peeked at her from under his arm.

“Nice huh?”

“Yea, nice. You know what, if you die I’m going to marry him here too.”

The fingers that were till now peacefully resting on her hip curved and dug into her flesh, a dangerous flash in the emerald that stared at her.

“You’re just trying to rile me, is that it?”

She fought the grin, not wanting it to reveal the joke.

“Maybe…”

However, Eren’s grip weakened as his face grew distant, the classic “philosophical” look entering his features.

“Would that be fair to him though? Jean is… okay I guess, and you treating him like an afterthought, a second choice? Not nice.”

Mikasa’s smile faltered when she realized that, and Eren was not even done with his speech.

“Then again, if I’ll be dead then I guess I have no agenda in telling you what to do. Plus I think I’d be happier if you moved on and had a family instead of mourning me forever. You are too young for that.”

These words hit way too close to Mikasa’s dream, and she could feel the sadness rising in the chest again. To battle it, she took hold of Eren’s chin and tugged it down until their lips were touching.

“Hey, not more talk about death, okay?”, she ordered, “I had enough of that while sleeping.”

“Yes ma’am.”

When she kissed him, Mikasa’s sadness melted away again, chased away by Eren’s warmth against her. Maybe her other self had to settle for something else, but not her. She was here and she had the love of her life right in her arms, in her bed, and she couldn’t be happier about it.

Eren mulled the facts over for a time, putting them together in his head. It was a nice day outside, and while he did all the math Mikasa simply watched him with a faint smile on her lips. It was almost noon when he came to her with a new question.

“So let me get this straight – I didn’t achieve anything In the end? My island was still nuked and the monsters…”

“Titans.”, Mikasa corrected him.

“Right, titans. Those are still around? Man, I guess I was turned into a clown at the end.”

She didn’t know how to disagree with any of those points.

“And the point of it all was nothing? That no matter how hard you struggle to save something you hold dear it will end up destroyed anyway?”

“It does sound hopeless when you put it like that.”

He snorted.

“Guess I was a certified clown then – oh well, now you see what zero pussy does to a motherfuc…”

“No, no, oh my god.”, Mikasa interrupted him, “Why do you keep making fun of it, I swear you are such a kid and…”

“W-What?”, Eren had trouble speaking because of the laughter, “It’s true! I died for nothing in your dream, I was a joke.”

“No… It wasn’t like that.”

“Take it as you will, but all my nightmares became reality and…”

Eren tapped the table a few times, most likely trying to wrap his head around it all.

“…you married Jean.”

“Well… yea, that was a bit weird.”

“Was it? I mean, the guy had a crush on you.”

She blinked at him.

“It was just a tiny one if there even was one at all.”

“Oh c’mon Miki,”, Eren’s grin was wide, “You couldn’t be that dense.”

“I-I mean…”

Jean? A crush? It reminded her of that night, not that long ago when she found out that most if not all of her female friends would like to have some sort of intimate experiments with her.

“Doesn’t matter.”, she blurted, “He’s a good friend, and I like him a lot, but not romantically!”

“He will be heartbroken…”

“He will?”

“Nah,”, Eren chuckled, “Jean got over it, he and Hitch are happy together, as far as I know.”

“That’s good, a crush is hardly a good base for a real-life relationship.”

“Then I guess we can be happy that you guys married in a dream only.”

“Indeed.”, she reached over the table to gently touch his face, “Here I have you.”

Eren mirrored her gesture, letting his thumb stroke the scar on Mikasa’s cheek.

“And I have you.”

“Forever.”

“Sadly.”

“What was that?”

“Oh nothing baby…”, a devilish grin, “Yes, forever.”

With her dreams done and finished it was time to return to civilization, to leave the cabin life behind. Eren told her that he got this, very courteously, most likely still worried about her mental state.

“Just take it easy,”, he said, kissing the top of her head, “I’ll pack.”

He did as he said, fighting with the baggage to the best of his ability. Mikasa was left to wander around aimlessly, and for whatever reason her steps took her to the big tree sitting there, overlooking a vast plain of grass. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air she leaned on the tree, but then her eyes caught sight of something that almost made her jump out of her skin.

There was a ghost sitting there, a ghost of her, dressed in a simple skirt and shirt, the scarf still around her neck. The apparition was about the same age Mikasa was, maybe a bit younger, but they looked almost the same. Her hair wasn’t short, it was long and pulled into a ponytail and there was no red highlight decorating it. The ghost looked up, her eyes meeting Mikasa’s, and a faint smile crossed her lips.

It was her perfect copy, down to the scar on the cheek - albeit the ghost’s was even more faded than hers, long years washing over it. She must have gotten her cut as a teenager. And there was also something about the eyes – it would be a lie to say that Mikasa had an easy life, but what she saw in the ghost’s eyes was something different altogether. The sitting girl saw hell and more, and it showed in her face.

“You are me.”, Mikasa finally pushed out.

The ghost looked at her curiously, tilting her head to the side.

“You… you can’t speak, can you?”

The ghost shook her head.

“I wonder why….”

The sitting girl shrugged, not understanding this any more than Mikasa did. She was just about to question her further when something else caught her attention. The ghost wasn’t sitting there on her own, there was something next to her – a tombstone with a very familiar name written on it.

Eren Yeager

Mikasa already had a suspicion, but this confirmed it – the sitting girl was the other Mikasa, the one she had dreams about, her past life. Following her eyes the ghost saw what she was looking at, her smile replaced by a look of deep longing. Gently, she caressed the stone, her eyes shining with tears.

“So the dreams were right, huh? You had to kill him.”

The ghost nodded solemnly.

“You saved the world, everyone, but you had to give the love of your life up.”

The apparition didn’t react, eyes trained at the cold tombstone.

“They say that if you love something, you should let it go.”, she told the ghost, “But I can’t do that….”

Looking over her shoulder at the man she loved so much, Mikasa let the words spill freely.

“I guess I’m selfish but I don’t want to lose this love we have, no matter what kind of symbolism it is. I want to wake up next to him every morning and spend ten minutes getting out of his hands because he holds me so tightly when we sleep. I want to see him yawn and wish him good morning and share a cup of coffee. I want him to be there for me when I come back so we can talk about our days and cuddle on the couch together…”

Her hands intertwined on the abdomen, gently stroking the fabric of her shirt.

“I want to have children with him, family, kids that will combine my and his looks and attitude. Is that selfish? Is that too much to ask? Is that…”

Lost in her speech Mikasa stumbled over the words and fell silent, letting out a short laugh after.

“I’m selfish and I don’t care. I’m never letting go simply because I don’t want to and damn everyone who disagrees with me. I deserve this, I deserve to be loved.”

As soon as those words left Mikasa’s lips she realized how insensitive those were towards her other self, the poor girl who, for all her bravery, for the act of saving the world itself – got nothing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”, she apologized to the sitting copy of herself, “I know that you never got to experience any of that with him.”

The ghost’s face fell and she buried her face to the scarf, eyes moving towards the headstone next to her. Seeing the longing written in her features, Mikasa couldn’t help but wonder.

“Did you… did you learn to let him go? Did you come to terms with his death?”

The pain in the girl’s eyes was all the answer Mikasa needed. It resonated within her, the suffering because she could imagine how it would feel. Maybe it was because she experienced it in her past life, maybe it was because of all these strange visions but she could do it and the pain and emptiness were terrible.

“This is not fair,”, she blurted, “You did everything you could, you saved the world and this was your reward? You’ve sacrificed… everything… and….”

She was crying now, Mikasa realized, her tears matching the ghost’s. Falling to her knees next to the girl she tried embracing her only to realize that she can’t touch a figment of her imagination.

“I’m so sorry for how the universe treated you, you deserved more, so, so much more….

More flashes- this time of a child, a faceless husband, grandkids too.

“This, all that… Did it make you happy?”

The ghost girl gave her a small enigmatic smile, and Mikasa realized one thing. It wasn’t for her to know – maybe she was happy with the other family, maybe she wasn’t, that would remain an enigma.

“But still, you kept visiting his grave,”, Mikasa’s eyes moved over to the headstone and the flowers there, “You never let his memory fade.”

A nod from the other girl.

“Still, it wasn’t fair to you. You could have been, no, should have been so much more…”, this time the raven’s eyes moved to where her Eren was, “You deserved to have a happy future with him too.”

“Yet you didn’t, and I did – you got the pain and I have the rewards you fought for. I swear, I will not let it go to waste.”

Standing up, she offered her hand to the ghost.

“Please, come with me, experience all that you bled for, struggled for so much. Let me show you how the love you wanted feels in full bloom.”

But the girl didn’t move, simply looking at her. And that was when Mikasa realized….

“… you don’t have to come with me because you are already here. You are me, I am you, we are the same person.”

It was strange, realizing that this was her- this old, tired soldier, a woman broken by a war Mikasa couldn’t even comprehend. A tragic hero who sacrificed her greatest love for the greater good, being left with nothing but a memory. A girl who was thrust into a cruel world and treated unfairly, no matter how hard she tried to change it, to save those she held dear. Tears in the corners of her eyes, Mikasa clenched her fists.

Not anymore.

Now there was no war, no titans, no apocalypse over their heads. Eren wouldn’t go to commit a global genocide to save his country, only to have it destroyed anyway. She wouldn’t marry another man and have children with him, bring her family to his grave, and plant flowers with pain in her heart. No.

Mikasa wasn’t a soldier anymore – she was an MMA fighter, a professional athlete, a model. Her life wasn’t filled with a constant struggle for survival. It was dreamy- filled with everything she could wish for, whatever it was spending her time with friends, goofing around with Eren, or training her pole dancing. She didn’t care for horses or sharpen her blades.

Eren wasn’t a hopeless maniac, driven to war by the sheer necessity of survival – he was a doctor, a surgeon, helping people in need not killing them.

Most importantly they were together – an engaged couple that loved each other so much that they couldn’t put it into words correctly. No tragedy would befall them.

Keeping her hand outstretched, Mikasa talked to the ghost again.

“We are one, but I am the lucky part of us, of me. I am love, I am the nights and lazy mornings spent in bed, I am all the kisses and hugs. You are my sadness, my sacrifice, my longing and pain, my unfulfilled and tragic fate.”

She stretched her fingers closer to the girl.

“Please, take my hand and experience it all with me, learn that there is beauty in this cruel world.”

Not hesitant anymore, the ghost held her hand towards Mikasa.

When their fingers made contact a chill ran down her spine and she gasped, blinking several times. The girl was gone, so was the grave, only the tree remained and gently swayed in the wind. And in her heart, in her soul, Mikasa felt different – different yet same because now she knew everything and the pain in her heart resonated.

It would always be a part of her, or rather it always was, but Mikasa wasn’t feeling down because of it. Now she knew that she had to feel everything, every touch and happy emotion that she experienced with him because it was what her past died for. If anything the full realization of her suffering made Mikasa appreciate it even more – she was living this life not only now but for the past too.

He was her Eren, she was his Mikasa, and in this world, nothing would tear them apart. And the tears the began to appear in her eyes did nothing to deny that fact.

“Miki? Why are you crying, what’s wrong?”

Refusing to answer Mikasa crossed the distance and hugged him, burying her face into Eren’s chest. Understanding that she didn’t want words now he stroked her back patiently, waiting for her to come back to him.

“Eren, you won’t ever leave me, will you?”

“Never.”

“I mean, I couldn’t do it even if wanted to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think I love you anymore, it’s more like fascination, adoration maybe.”

“…Eren…”

“Hell, I’d do anything to stay with you, you want me to bark for you? Cause I will..”

Despite her sad mood, Mikasa felt the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Stop, come on.”

Ignoring that, he pressed his face into her hair, a quiet bark leaving his lips.

“Woof.”, he nuzzled her gently, “There, I did it.”

She giggled at that and Eren smirked, glad that he made her smile because that was his mission in life – making the beautiful angel he was, for some reason blessed by, happy.

It made her reflect on the whole story, now that she had it whole. Eren kept silent while Mikasa was deep in thought, his fingers gently stroking her hipbone in small soothing circles. In her mind, she recalled as much as she could, brought it together and….

Mikasa took a shuddering breath.

“It makes no god damn sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

“The whole story, It… it doesn’t add up at all. You dying for nothing, me moving on so quickly I… The whole world….”

She was pouting now, that adorable expression that made Eren want to kiss it right off of her face, but he held himself back. Mikasa was talking.

“It had such a nice build-up, but in the end, it collapsed completely. I don’t understand why….”

“Well, that is the thing with dreams.”, he mumbled next to her, “They often don’t make much sense once we wake up.”

“But still..”

“Mikiiiiiiiiii…”, unable to resist her cuteness anymore, he pressed a string of soft kisses all over her face, turning that pout into a breathless giggle, “Stop overthinking dreams so much.”

Grabbing her hand he intertwined their fingers, raising it so the sun slid over their skin. It highlighted the contrast between them, how his tanned shade complimented her pale one, just as perfectly as they completed one another in life.

“This. This is important.”, he said, “This is real. You may be a broken titan slayer in your dreams, but here you are… well, still a titan slayer but one that is happy… I think.”

His voice got even deeper when he directed his question right at her.

“Are you happy with me?”

Mikasa was nodding her head before she even realized what was happening.

“Yes. Gods yes, I couldn’t be happier.”

“See?”, the flash of white teeth revealed his grin, “Then focus on that. Here, in this world, I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have me.”

“That might be a very long time Yeager, are you sure that you want to do that to yourself?”

“As if I had a choice.”, his fingers danced over her hip, “You bound me to yourself with black magic, remember?”

“Good to see that you remember that. My Dark Knight.”

The kiss Eren gave her was interlaced with a smile, and it was one of the sweetest Mikasa ever got in her life. He was right, after all, her dreams, past self, it was a tragedy that befell her, but it was so jumbled at the end that she had a hard time taking it seriously. The “ending” of her past didn’t make sense, no matter how much she tried to see the point of it. It all looked like such a tragedy, but in the end…. was it maybe a comedy? A twisted image where all the sacrifice and pain they went through amounted to nothing? Where several characters were made to be worthless, and their struggle amounted to nothing? A parody of a terrible conflict that couldn’t be solved by anything else by an annihilation?

But... why dwell on it?

She had this- this life, this Eren, and this happiness that they built together, and she loved every second of it.

And there was nothing else that the past could show her anymore.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“You sure? Didn’t forget anything?”

Mikasa looked at the tree where the conversation with the ghost took place, smiling. Tightening her hold on Eren’s hand, she felt more content than ever before, finally having an explanation and ending for her nightmares. It all made sense, and she would live her life to the fullest with the love of her life – not only for herself but for the other Mikasa too. She deserved to experience it, every second of it. After all, they were one and the same.

“Yes. I have all I need right here with me.”

#eremika #fanfic #:)

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apiratewhopines · 3 years

Text

Thanks to @teamhook for the artwork! So fancy!

Midnight

Chapter 4 — The Ball

Summary: In which our heroine feels exposed

Chapter 4 of 7 on AO3

“Some day, when I’m awfully low

When the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you”

-The Way You Look Tonight, Fred Astaire

Having spent several days eating her way through Misthaven with one eye on the lookout for black sedans, Emma was glad to be heading away from the town and the emotional memories the sight of a pub or gas station would cause. She wasn’t sure why one innocent night with Killian Jones continued to dominate her thoughts and hijack her dreams, but she feared seeing him again would push her over the edge.

That didn’t keep her from wanting to though.

On some level, she knew he had probably already forgotten her. Perhaps he did before the night was even over. Some other passenger might be walking around his place now, wearing his shirts and eating his pancakes.

Because when she dreamed about Door Number One, they always had pancakes for breakfast.

Despite her stubborn heart’s refusal to cooperate, the last couple of days had not been wasted. Arthur turned out to be a man of his word. Like a crazy fairy godmother who sprinkled cold hard cash instead of pixie dust and magic, he kept her supplied in the finest clothes and the chicest accessories. At the same time, he made sure her social calendar buzzed with invitations from a who’s who of Misthaven’s finest and wealthiest families. Events that inevitably threw her together with Lance more often than not.

It was at a garden soirée the previous day Lance had pressed to drive her out to Camelot, Arthur’s sprawling estate just a couple of hours away. Figuring the sooner she got the weekend over with, the better, she remained elusive only long enough to be convincing and then accepted his offer.

She already figured out Lancelot du Lac was a man who enjoyed the chase. She also discovered underneath his rakish exterior was someone who desperately wanted to find love while at the same time being deathly afraid of it. Normally, Emma wasn’t one to psychoanalyze. Still, the funny thing about rich people’s parties was that they were actually very dull, and she had nothing to do but regret not kissing the Captain before they parted ways or come up with profiles on the personalities she encountered.

Psychoanalysis seemed like the safer option.

Now she was waiting in the lobby of the Ritz for Lance’s foreign sports car to arrive so she could finally shake the dirt of this town off her feet. She hoped she could shake the lingering sadness as well. It was doing things to her. Things like making her hear the Captain’s voice in crowds.

“Swan! Swan! Emma, if you don’t turn around this instant—“

Excitement and abject horror battled for supremacy when she realized it wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her. As if in slow motion, she turned in the direction of his voice and her eyes met his across the vast space. Then she watched as Killian Jones began to sprint toward her, pushing people out of his way none too gently while managing not to crease his startlingly posh blue suit. This wasn’t the flirty Uber driver of a few nights ago, all leather and innuendo. Sure he had the same sex hair and twinkling blue eyes, but this man exuded power and authority and, quite frankly, looked more than a little pissed as he closed the distance between them with frightening speed.

Unaware of the drama playing out, one of the valets rushed to her and announced breathlessly, “Baroness, your ride has arrived.”

“I… I’ll be right there.”

Emma couldn’t break eye contact with him. His face was just as she remembered it, as it should since it was less than a week ago when she last saw him. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked frantic to get to her. He seemed to know she was contemplating an escape and he paused briefly, not caring who heard him when he called across the remaining ground between them, “So help me, Swan, if you run again, I swear I will—“

She didn’t hear the rest of what he said as a herd of visitors passed between them chattering loudly in some foreign language, the group taking photos of the architecture and potted plants as if they were worthy of remembrance. She had a brief opportunity to step out unseen under cover of the mob separating them. To forever give this man who haunted her the slip.

Or she could stay.

God, did she want to stay.

—

The estate was as lovely as one would expect. Ancient oak trees lined the drive and gave way to topiaries precisely cut into fantastical shapes as the car approached the main house. Lance regaled her with tales of the vast land Arthur inherited, the numerous homes on the property, and the complete absence of any cell or internet services once you crossed the boundary.

It seemed old man Soberano convinced himself the emerging technologies were a way for the government to spy on people and had forbidden, by way of his last will and testament, any cell towers or fiber lines from ever crossing the property. It was why as coveted as an acquaintance with the family was, people often grumbled when they received an invitation to the country estate rather than one of the other properties throughout the globe. The ancient landline phones served as the communication system for the large estate and the only connection to the outside world.

Of course, most of his ramblings went in one ear and out the other because she was too busy wondering why Killian had been at the Ritz in a suit that looked like it was made for him. She would know. After all, she was now in possession of a wardrobe filled with custom pieces and carefully tailored lines.

Was it a fluke encounter or was he still searching for her? He would give new meaning to the phrase ‘no stone left unturned’ if his sole reason for coming to the premier hotel in town was to look for the broke woman he gambled on and lost. Literally.

“Darling, I feel like you haven’t heard a word I said the whole journey,” Lance gently complained as he helped her out of the low seats of the car and up the grand stairs leading to the front door. He appeared genuinely distressed at her distance, and for the first time, she felt a twinge of guilt for the ridiculous game she was playing.

“I’m sorry. I had some bad news right before we left, and I’m a bit distracted,” she explained, allowing Lance to take her hand as they approached the Soberanos who were waiting for them in the foyer. Their linked hands did not go unnoticed by either of their hosts, although to widely different responses.

Learning she was at the opposite end of the mansion from Lance, the group moved to the second floor together. The servant leading them turned to Lance and said helpfully, “Good news, Mr. du Lac, we found the cuff link you lost on your last visit. It was in Madam Soberano’s sitting room.”

Sheepishly, he looked to Emma as if ready to offer an excuse. Unable to keep a chuckle from escaping at the crazy situation, she patted his arm and said, “The wind must have blown it in.”

With that, the group separated. Arthur replaced Lance at her arm and smiled indulgently at his protege. “You’re quite good. You have him eating out of your hand, and you’re not even trying.”

“I’ve met his type before. The less I try, the more he will. He’ll be begging me to divorce my husband and proposing before the end of the night at this rate,” she joked.

“You don’t know Lancelot du Lac,” Arthur argued. Their leisurely stroll through the second-floor gallery allowed her to see pictures of his ancestors back to the Norman invasion, but she noted there was none of him or his beloved wife who he was fighting so hard to keep.

“Well, you don’t know Emma Swan. He tried to give me an emerald the size of a baby’s fist today.” She had been tempted to pocket the jewel, but some small part of her knew what she was doing was wrong and robbing the man blind when she had no intention of ever returning his affections wouldn’t make it any better.

“Excellent! I won’t even deduct it from your pay if you promise to take him for all he’s worth and break his heart, dear. It will do him some good.”

“How are you still friends with him? Knowing what he’s doing with your wife. I can’t figure out if you’re the most understanding man in the world or absolutely crazy.”

Sighing, he sat down on one of the numerous benches that lined the gallery floor and patted the seat beside him. Emma didn’t know precisely how or when it happened, but he had become almost a friend after the deal was struck. She spent as much time with him as she did Lance and, despite the fact she thought he was extremely odd, she had grown fond of him. “Because I think he was trying to make her happy at first. I told you she wasn’t the only one to make mistakes. This whole thing is my fault. It was my foolish pursuit of wealth that drove her to this, endlessly trying to carve my name into the family tomes as one of the best empire builders in the dynasty. If I had been there for her, if I had just listened when she tried to tell me what she needed…well, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

“I hope for your sake this works.”

“And I hope for your sake, the next time a man tries to give you an emerald, you keep it.”

“How do you know I didn’t keep it?”

“Because I think I’m starting to know Emma Swan,” he explained with a wink and smile before pulling her up and taking her to the east wing. Dropping her off at her room, he teased, “Get some rest, dear. Cinderella needs to be at her best for the ball.”

With a sardonic grin, she countered, “Hard to be at your best when you know every Cinderella has her midnight.”

Hours later, after a nap and a fortifying drink, she shrugged into her form-fitting green dress like it was battle armor. She was joking earlier when she said a proposal would be forthcoming, but she had no doubt Lance would make a proposition of some kind. The trick would be to keep him on the line without actually following through with anything.

She left her room as late as possible to avoid spending too much time around the pampered elite who were her housemates that weekend. While she had met a fair few during her crash course in Misthaven society, Arthur was the only one she didn’t mind having a conversation with, but he was unlikely to abandon Guin’s side to keep her company. Especially since it would put a damper on Lance’s pursuit.

Her destination was the expansive, three-tiered back deck, illuminated by thousands of clear fairy lights and a fair number of fireflies, the faint breeze carrying the briny smell of the ocean that lay only a few feet beyond their well-tended lawn. The men in tuxedos added a dashing contrast to their partners’ colorful evening gowns and cocktail dresses. A string quartet was playing off to the side; the beautiful melody drifted through the party in a way that enhanced the romantic atmosphere to a point it made her hurt.

She was surprised to see Arthur standing alone through the wall of windows. She stopped to take in the scene, complete with busy waitstaff and tables of food.

She couldn’t wait to get away.

“Alright, Guinevere, you want to talk, let’s talk. I have a few serious words to say.”

Silently moving until the curtains partially hid her, Emma watched as Lance and Guinevere made their way toward the patio. Guinevere’s eyes were red and she was fretting with a handkerchief gripped tightly between her hands. “As if you had two serious words in your whole vocabulary, Lance.”

“I could make a very noble speech. Tell you we were just two ships passing in the night, but the truth is, Arthur is my friend. I don’t want to break up a happy marriage. We’ve been playing with fire, but it’s better to end this now before someone gets hurt.”

“Funny how none of that mattered until the baroness showed up. I know you think you are in love with her. I can see it in your face every time she is around. You’re behaving like a schoolboy. You’re a darling, but you need to be careful. We don’t know anything about her. All we have is her word that she is who she says she is. I’ve asked around; no one has ever heard of her. Maybe her hair is dyed, and maybe she’s poisoned three husbands. Sidney told me there was some man calling her a swan and chasing her at her hotel today. It had all the staff talking.”

“You’re jealous, Guin.”

“Terribly. Fun, isn’t it?” The woman rushed from the room, tears flowing freely now. Emma didn’t move from her hiding place, instead waiting until he had joined the party before she followed in his footsteps.

—

As she predicted, Lance made sure he was her partner for most of the night. She followed Guin’s movements with alarm, knowing the woman was on edge and fearful of what she may do if she felt she had nothing to lose. Her glance met Arthur’s when she saw his wife and Sidney go inside, heads close together and a look of shock crossing Guin’s face. The other man nodded at her and trailed after them at a distance.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to let Lance lead her away from the party into the formal gardens spreading north of the patio. Perhaps she was tired of having to put a fake smile on her face, or maybe she was simply tired.

He kept a steady stream of conversation going, mostly unanswered on her side, and navigated them down an old stone path to a large fountain surrounded by benches and meticulously pruned rose bushes. “Please don’t interrupt, dear, but suppose we were to follow this path all the way to the garage and take my car for a ride through the countryside.”

“Oh, the make-believe game! It’s always been one of my favorites. But why stop at the countryside, Lance? Why not go on a tour of the moon while we’re at it?”

“I asked you not to interrupt,” he teased, pulling her arm through his and continuing to amble further away from the house. “You see, this isn’t some random trip. We have a particular place we are heading. A little estate by the lake where an opinionated old dame lives. It’s twenty ’til midnight. If we leave now, we can make it as dawn is breaking.”

Intrigued despite herself, she asked, “And what business would we have at this chateau by the lake?”

“I want you to meet my mother. To introduce you to her and tell her that I’ve met the one. Then the pale light of dawn will shine on the first day of our lives together.”

He was serious, and she felt like the lowest of human beings when she joked back, “I doubt the day will be the only thing breaking when that bombshell drops. Were we going to share the news with my husband before or after our visit?”

Before he could respond, Arthur called out from behind them on the path, “Baroness Jones, I believe you promised me a dance.”

He reached them seconds later with a pointed look at her. Although he was the picture of sophistication, she could tell by his quick pace something had happened. “A midnight dance as I remember.”

“Of course, please excuse me,” she murmured to Lance, who looked like he was about to protest as she took Arthur’s arm and allowed him to guide her back to the house. Keeping a calm expression on her face, she smiled and nodded to the people they passed and waited until they were out of earshot to ask, “What’s happened?”

“It’s midnight, dear. The ground has opened under our feet. That horrible friend of Guin’s, Sidney, did some digging and found out there is no Baroness Jones. They plan to make an announcement any moment now. I’m sorry I brought you into this mess, Emma.”

They reached the dance floor Arthur installed on the deck specifically for the party, but neither felt like dancing. Instead, they hovered along the back wall and waited for the troublesome pair to return from their scheming.

Sighing, she nudged his shoulder. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. We never really stood a chance at this working.”

“But we were so close. I could feel Guin changing, turning back to me. Now I may as well help her pack her bags,” he replied, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one off to her. Clicking his glass against hers in a mock toast, he muttered, “Here’s to wasted years and endless torment.”

He downed the entire glass and, when she only took a sip, he reached out and downed hers as well.

She wasn’t sure what he had to be upset about. She was the one who was going to be exposed as a charlatan, forced to exit under the judgmental gazes of a house full of people who would dine on the story for months to come. Just as she was about to point out it could be worse, she saw Guin descend the stairs with Sidney hot on her heels. “Here we go.”

“I’ll stand by you as best I can,” Arthur promised, his hand coming to rest in the small of her back as if to provide some physical barrier against what was about to happen.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I have a moment of your time? As you know, Arthur and I pride ourselves on providing the best of entertainment at our parties, and I think you’ll find tonight’s will not disappoint. I have a story to share that I think will delight and amuse you. Under our roof tonight, we have a guest claiming one of the oldest names in European aristocracy.”

A murmur started in the crowd, musicians laying down their instruments, even the waitstaff and caterers ceased what they were doing. It seemed as if the entire universe held its breath waiting for Guin to continue. She could tell the woman enjoyed every moment of it.

“I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the heraldry of Cambridge nobility, but let me assure you that in all of England, there is no—“

From the patio entrance, the footman interrupted in a booming voice to announce the arrival of a late guest of note. “Baron Killian Jones.”

Emma had to grab Arthur’s arm to keep from falling when her knees buckled. In the soft light, the Captain looked like a fantasy. His dark hair mussed in a way that looked intentional, but she knew it resulted from repeatedly running his hand through it when he was frustrated. He was outfitted in a tuxedo, the crisp white shirt making his stubble seem even more dangerous in the moonlight. He surveyed the crowd looking for her, supremely unconcerned he had the attention of the entire party.

Arthur looked at the mysterious stranger and then took in her aghast expression and whispered, “Do you know him?”

At that moment, Killian’s eyes met hers and the heat she saw there made it difficult to think, much less speak. “Yes. Yes, I know him.”

“Right. All hope isn’t lost then,” Arthur said with forced cheerfulness as he disengaged her death grip on his arm and went to greet their visitor. In a loud voice, so nobody would have to strain to hear, he said, “Welcome to my home, my dear Baron. It’s been a long time since we’ve met.”

Despite the fact the men had never laid eyes on each other before, Emma observed the Captain as he quickly assessed the lay of the land and responded, “Yes, years and years. I hope you don’t mind me trespassing on your hospitality. I only just arrived in town and the hotel staff informed me my wife was spending the weekend here. I couldn’t wait to see her.”

“With such a charming companion, no one blames you,” Guinevere said smoothly, giving Sidney a look meant to quell any further talk and rushing to meet their newest arrival. “She’s kept us all so diverted this past week.”

Giving the woman a slight grin, he nodded. “I’m sure. She’s nothing if not diverting.”

Moving away from the Soberanos, he took the stairs two at a time until he was standing in front of her, mouth twisted in amusement and eyes on fire. He seemed to drink in the sight of her from the artless way the curls were falling down her back to how her hand was white-knuckled from holding on to a nearby chair.

“You found me.” Somehow her words sounded like both an accusation and a thank you. Her eyes searched his face for some clue as to why he was there.

“Did you ever doubt I would?”

Before anything else could be said, he pulled her into his arms and crushed his lips to hers. Plundering her mouth, not caring they had an audience numbering in the hundreds, he shifted his grip, one hand making its way to her hair and cradling the back of her head. The other drifted lower, moving her body until it pressed against the long length of his. The thin fabric of her dress allowed the heat of him to soak through to her skin which suddenly felt tight and she was desperate for more contact.

She leaned into him, allowing her hands finally to comb through the hair that had haunted her dreams. The silky strands provided a contrast to the rough drag of his facial scruff against her cheek, the feeling of him in her arms doing exactly what she wanted almost pushing her into sensory overload. She didn’t think, who could when faced with such an onslaught, her body moving on instinct. She moaned into his mouth, tongues tangling and tasting of champagne and need.

A throat cleared in the distance and reality came crashing back. Reluctantly, Killian pulled back, resting his forehead against hers and breathing unevenly.

With quiet wonder, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I was hungry to see my little wife.”

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

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aiikawarazu · 3 years

Text

Hourglass Chapter #23

Title: Butterfly

Rated: M

Summary: Time had always been a relative concept after all, it stretched or contracted depending on gravity. Certain events and certain people in life produced a high gravity pull, and the higher gravity pull is, the quicker time passes. Mikasa wondered slightly if that was why she'd always felt time passed by quickly, too quickly when she was with him. Had she always gravitated toward him, just like the earth toward the sun?

FFNet here || AO3 here (AO3 is late update)

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

(Don't think of anything, don't bring up any words. Please, just smile at me)

We made a promise to go again when the weather is warm.

Armin reminded himself as he sat in the almost empty bus, Mikasa dozing off on his left side, and Eren on his right, both had completely exhausted themselves. Earlier they had bickered, shouted, ran over to catch each other, and – Armin's favorite moment was when Mikasa finally caught hold of Eren, almost threw him backwards toward the sea, but then hesitated because, after all, it was quite mean to have the boy awfully drenched in this weather.

So she stopped dead on her tracks, her hands halfway clutching the front of his shirt in an attempt to throw him, and Eren wrestled free of her grab, causing them both to lose balance. Stumbling for a few steps, they both ended falling on the sand, he was on top of her.

They both stayed awfully long in that position, just staring into the other until Armin – quite purposefully, gave a series of loud coughs which snapped them back to reality and they broke apart, faces red, each trying to catch their breaths rather clumsily. Armin pursed his lips to hide his smile. "Let's go back home," he said to the pair, who are now trying to avoid each other's eyes.

"Yeah," said Eren, his voice sounding a mixture between awkwardness and embarrassment. "Let's go back."

They both climbed into the bus that would take them back home. It was empty, and they found a place to sit on the back of the bus. No sooner than five minutes into the ride, Mikasa's head fell to Armin's shoulder. She was asleep, hugging her book bag tightly on her lap. Her soft black strands fell prettily on his shoulder, and he could inhale the sweet smell of her shampoo, mixed with a dash of salt from the ocean. "Hey, Eren," Armin whispered, carefully not to wake her up. "Do you want to switch seats with m-"

But Eren's head also fell on Armin's other shoulder and Armin realized that the boy was asleep too. Realizing that he couldn't disturb their rest now, Armin gave an inward sigh. Slowly, in an attempt to not wake them up, he opened his bag and reached inside, pulling out the last polaroid picture that he'd just taken.

There wasn't a lot of them – actually, there was just one. After he took that last picture of Eren and Mikasa, Armin had gone back to retrieve more pictures, but he realized in a drop of disappointment that he actually didn't bring anymore spare films. For a while, he was busily running his hands through his bag, hoping and searching for the item, but finally he gave up and just stood there, his head sunk low. Noticing his friend's lack of mood, Eren raised his eyebrows and looked at him in question. Armin shook his head, smiling mirthlessly.

"I ran out of films," he said truthfully. "Didn't bring anymore. Just when I wish I could capture a lot of good pictures…"

"Don't sweat it," said Eren, his breaths still heavy from trying to escape Mikasa's wrath. "We'll go again when the weather is warm."

And just like that, he changed Armin's mood completely.

"It's a promise, then," said Armin, and the other boy nodded, grinning. "Promise," he said. "Let's go again in summer." He had to run again then to avoid Mikasa, but Armin continued to watch his back with a fond smile.

"You didn't even have your picture taken," Mikasa's regretful voice suddenly spoke near his very left ear and Armin winced in surprise.

"Mikasa! You're awake?"

"Pretty much," she said. "Sorry… I dozed off there. Must be heavy for you."

"Not really, that's fine… Eren is heavier," he indicated to the boy who was still asleep on his right hand side. He didn't even wake up when Armin winced earlier. Mikasa had her eyes on the polaroid picture that was taken by Armin, which the boy still held between his index and thumb finger. Carefully, she stretched her hand and ghosted her finger on its surface, the last picture of her and Eren. She was smiling awkwardly in that picture, looking timid, her body leaning toward Eren, her face almost as red as her scarf. Her hair was messed up by the wind, several strands falling on her face, though she did try her best to get them out of the way. Her expression was a lot of contrast to Eren, who stood behind him, his smile looked more like a grin, his hand on her waist – shielding her in a protective, caring manner, his emerald green eyes brimming with confidence as he stared straight ahead toward the camera. There was no other way to describe him… he looked handsome. Mikasa stared at the picture quietly, a longing smile on her face.

"You can have it," said Armin suddenly, and she looked at him, startled but quite embarrassed. Was she that obvious?

"Oh no," she tried to reject his offer, "I can't do that. I mean… this is your last picture, and…"

"We'll take plenty more pictures when we visit again," Armin assured her, putting the picture in her hands gently. "We already promised we'll visit again."

She still tried to protest, but Armin wouldn't hear it.

"Do you really not want it, Mikasa?" he asked, and she was silenced, only her face was silently changing to a hue of red. When she didn't say anything again after that, the boy smiled. "That's decided, then," said Armin, quite satisfied. Just then, his attention was suddenly taken by the murmur on his right side, when Eren finally woke up from his nap.

"What did I miss?" he asked, sounding quite confused. It seemed he wasn't fully up just yet. Mikasa and Armin stared.

"Nothing," said Armin finally, leisurely leaning back on his seat. "Absolutely nothing."

***

(I still can't believe it, all of this feels like a dream. Don't try to fade away)

In her memories, Historia had only ever seen her father three times.

First time was when that man visited her and her mother in their modest house. The second time was when she started to live in the Reiss household's main mansion after her mother passed away when she was thirteen. And finally, just the night before Frieda decided to take her away from the Reiss household, she saw him arguing heatedly with her half-sister in his working room. It wasn't just any argument though, for they had been throwing things and calling names at each other. At the end of the argument (which she had been dreadfully witnessing through a gap in the double door), Frieda screamed angrily at the height of her emotions, "I will never be part of this wretched household anymore!" and ran toward the door, snatching Historia with her.

She couldn't understand what went on that night, and Frieda did not attempt to tell her. She only told Historia that they needed to start clean now, away from the all of the Reiss's bad influence. They moved to Shiganshina then, where Frieda used her connection to work as a full-time nurse in the Town's General Hospital. Thanks to her connection also, Historia could attend school as Christa Lenz, only telling her real name to people she considered closest to her, such as Ymir.

Even in her wildest dreams, Historia never imagined that she would meet her father like this again. When she opened the letter from him with trembling hands, she might have expected to be hit hard with some terrible truth. But, in contrast with the dread she felt, the letter really did not speak of any ill or important information. Inside the envelope, she only found a brief, but urgent, note to herself from her father. She read it carefully twice.

Dear Historia,

I am in town now, and I have something to say to you regarding the Reiss Family business. I know you have been living with Frieda since that night, and I am shamed with guilt and regret for not being able to stop you from going. Since your sister had renounced the Reiss family name, I know she will be opposed of me contacting you, but I am still sending this letter in an attempt to get in touch with you. I know I haven't been kind to you or your mother, but I really wish to make it up. Please allow me to speak face to face with you, Historia. If you can fulfil this invitation, please send me a message so I can arrange a time to meet.

Below the notes there was a phone number, which Historia memorized carefully before she tore the letter to small pieces and burned it. She didn't quite know how she should feel, but finally, curiosity overtook her. She finally sent a message to the number indicated in that letter, and received an address and an instruction to meet Rod Reiss two days later at 7 PM sharp in a high-end restaurant in one of Shiganshina's most well-known luxury district.

"I'm here for an audience with Mr. Rod Reiss," she said, and the lady in the reception, clothed in modest Japanese kimono perfectly matching the theme of this traditional Japanese restaurant, nodded in understanding. It seemed like she had been briefed previously. "Please wait a moment," she said, as she picked up the phone to relay the message to the staffs in the back. "Mr. Reiss's guest is here…" a slight pause, then, "Yes… thank you," she said, then closed the telephone.

"They will be here soon," she notified Historia.

No sooner after she'd said those words, a bodyguard clad in all black emerged from the sliding door behind her. His skin was rather dark, and he must be at least 2 meters high, his head almost touched the low ceilings when he walked. "This way, please," said the receptionist lady, motioning for Historia to follow her. Historia strode behind her, noting that the bodyguard soon followed suit and closed the sliding door behind him. They entered a small, dimly-lit hallway with countless doors on either side. The walls were quite thin, so Historia could still hear low whispers and murmurs coming from behind the doors, however they were just overlapping one on top of another until she couldn't make the heads nor tail off them. It felt like quite a strange scene, and Historia kept wondering if she was halfway in a dream as she went down the hallway. Finally, the receptionist stopped in front of a door, and gave several knocks.

"Your guest is here, Sir," she said

"Bring her in," she heard someone say from inside.

They opened the door and let her in. The receptionist gave a respectful bow, then backed out, closing the sliding door again behind her.

It was a traditional Japanese room, with tatami mat and a large low wooden table made out of cedar wood in the middle. On the table, Historia could see some of the most luxurious Japanese feasts being laid. This was, after all, the most famous traditional Japanese restaurant in this neighborhood with waitlist that could go up from six months to one year, but she wasn't interested on those.

Her eyes fell straight to the man who was sitting behind the table. He was a rather short man, his expression was solemn and serious. He wore a clean, spotless business suit. Though that room was quite hot, he didn't take off his jacket. His dark hair was kept carefully tidy, the wrinkles on his face determined his age, and his eyes, despite being of different color, were the exact same shape with Historia's.

Rod Reiss.

"Historia," he welcomed her with a smile. For a while, his serious expression changed and he looked more approachable. "Please," he said, motioning to the seat in front of him, "Sit down."

Historia moved nearer and sat down as indicated. Her expression still wary, her body still tense. He chuckled at her expression. "No need to be so guarded," he said, but Historia couldn't contain herself any longer.

"Why have you called me here?" she asked. The man only held up a hand. "Later, Historia," he said. "For now, why don't you just eat? It is not easy to get a reservation in this place, mind you."

Historia heaved a deep sigh, but she knew she would best not to press further. She grabbed a pair of chopsticks, and forced herself to eat, swallowing down not only the food, but also the rising waves of curiosity and questions inside her.

"So how is… school?" her father asked, almost as casually as a normal father who sees his daughter everyday during dinner. It would have been a perfectly normal question, had they not been in this VIP room, eating a five-star meal for dinner, surrounded by bodyguards who stood silently still as statues with their eyes hidden in dark sunglasses.

Historia took a sip out of her tea, before answering, rather coldly.

"I go by the name of Christa Lenz now."

"So I have heard," quietly sipping hot sake that was poured by the waitress for him. "It was not easy to find you."

She stared at her father. Then, not finding anything else to say, she said no to the waitress's offer for sake, and looked down to her food to continue eating the dishes silently.

"How is Frieda?"

"She's fine," Historia said shortly. Then, after a moment of silence, she set her chopsticks aside and started again, "Listen, I don't mean to be rude but… can you please tell me… why we are here?"

Her voice was more urgent this time, and her father finally gave a tired sigh. "Very well, I think I ought to tell you." He signalled to the bodyguards who were still inside the room, who nodded, and quietly left toward the exit. Once they had closed the door behind them to leave Historia alone with her father, Rod began to speak.

"I want you to become the next successor of Reiss."

Historia stared at her father immensely, silently thought to herself that she must have misheard it.

"I am serious," said her father, correctly interpreting the look of shock on Historia's face. He allowed a few moments for the thought to sink in, until he finally heard the girl muttered, "Why?"

"Because I decided so," said her father. He had lighted a pipe now, and was smoking. There was an air of casual elegance to himself as he exhaled the smokes, and poured his sake to sip it, that otherwise couldn't have been achieved by someone of commoner status.

"But why me? You have four children other than Frieda," she insisted. "You had four sons. And yet you chose me? You would choose a child from a mistress to be your successor?" She gave him a look of disbelief. "Why?"

"Them!" he said, with such utter disgust that Historia was taken aback at his tone. "Those bloody, wretched vultures! They'd probably gather around me once I die, trying to get something out of my corpse!" He emptied the content of his sake cup in a gulp and slammed it to the table with a furious clank. "I have sent them all abroad. They don't belong here. Not a single one of them will be entitled to my fortune when I die!" He raised his hand and counted.

"Dirk, he decided not to follow this secular world and become a priest instead. Abel, he was good – he worked in the Reiss corporation like I have always advised him. His career progressed quickly, but now he got a good-for-nothing fiancée who's a bloody gold digger. Scum is obviously after his money but she will be shocked when Abel got none," Rod cackled. "Urklyn, he got no ambitions… none of it at all… he just wanted to be a game designer, shame on him. And Dear Florian," Rod sighed, "He got the brain, he got the ambition, but too much…. too much of it – he'd burn himself down to the ground. Sometimes I still feel like that kid's plotting my murder behind my back, you know?" He looked at Historia, then cackled again. "He's definitely trying to take over the company… the number of times he'd told me that I'm no longer fit for my job…" Historia still said nothing, her blue eyes warily fixed on his father all the while.

"And that's where you came in, Historia," said her father. He emptied one more sake cup before pouring in another round. Sipping it slowly, he sighed.

"I am not getting any younger," he said. "And as you can see… I brought up my children the wrong way. Not even a single one of them I can count on to succeed me." He put down his sake cup, then studied Historia carefully, her looks still bearing disbelief. Her beautiful golden hair and her crystal blue eyes were the same color as Alma, his late lover. She was beautiful, and yet so young. "I know… your life hasn't been kind. And it was my fault, Historia," he said again, his tone full of regrets. "And for that, I am truly, and deeply, sorry to you." Rod Reiss bowed his head, hands propped to either side of his thigh, sincerely apologizing to his daughter. Flustered, Historia backed away.

"What is this?" she asked. She was confused, and half of her started to feel angry. "You think you can just… go in here and suddenly play father to me when for so long you have never acknowledged me as your child?" her voice started to tremble as her buried emotions dangerously edged toward the surface. She never heard from him forever, and suddenly, when she did hear from him again, it was this kind of nonsense. She should have trusted her sister Frieda after all, when she said the entire Reiss household was bad influence.

"What kind of sick joke is this?" she asked, not bothering to keep her tone quiet.

"I realized I might have been very late," said Rod Reiss, "But –"

"I have never been associated with the Reiss family. All my life!" Historia shouted heatedly. "Never! And now you suddenly want me to… join the race? Embrace my Reiss family name and jump into the ring with my dear brothers to fight for the right of successorship? For inheritance?"

"That is exactly what I want you to do," Rod replied in a very cold voice, and Historia let out a gasp, as though she had been stabbed. Her eyes widened in anger and frustration

What are you –" she forced out a humorless laugh, then sucked in a trembling breath. "You must be delusional if you think I will agree to this ridiculous proposal."

Rod Reiss didn't waver in front of her daughter's anger. Quietly, he inhaled another round of smoke from his pipe before releasing it, and went, "You are quite correct, Historia. You never had a place with the Reiss from the very start," he said. Historia was about to say something, but Rod held out his hand to silence her. She obliged.

"And now – you can get that place. Just think about it. Power, freedom, money… you will be controlling hundreds, thousands of people under your command. The Reiss empire is yours, and you are free to use it however you want. You can help whoever you think is in need. The only thing I ask is that you become a worthy successor to my goals, Historia. Just think about it," Rod Reiss looked at his daughter very carefully in the eyes. "You will finally get a place where you belong. Now you can take it, or leave it." There was a very heavy emphasis at the end of his words that sent chills down Historia's spine. She knew her father had meant every word.

"It is your decision," he said, after a short pause in which Historia still stood on her place, stunned. "Now, I must go, for my schedule is rather tight. And I will appreciate if you don't breathe a word about this to anyone else. If you do –" he clapped, and several bodyguards came in. He motioned for them to escort Historia out, " – We shall know."

He finished his words, and Historia barely could see the last of him out of the corners of her eye, before the bodyguards ushered her to the exit.

***

(Is it true? Is it true? You're so beautiful that I'm scared)

What's in a name? that which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet;

Historia pronounced her dialogue, her sweetness and gracefulness as Juliet captivated the whole audience, who looked at her in awe and admiration. Ymir was supposed to say her dialogue after that, but she stood frozen on her spot instead, a deafening silence wrapped around the stage, until Marco's clap woke her up from her state.

"Ymir!" he said, "Focus!"

Marco was actually quite a patient person. He never sounded annoyed, but this time he did sound like his patience was wearing thin. After all, it had happened a few times this afternoon on a very important rehearsal.

"If you cannot focus, we'll take you off the main lead!"

"I'm sorry," Ymir said, acknowledging her mistake. "May we take a short break?"

Marco seemed to be contemplating for a few seconds, but he finally nodded. "Get yourself together," he said to Ymir, "I want to see you focus when we return later."

Ymir silently noted that it was quite an impossible demand, but she nodded anyway. "Fifteen minutes break, everyone!" he said, and the students began to disperse from stage. Ymir's eyes went over to Historia, but the girl was caught up in a conversation with Sasha. She sighed inwardly, and slipped out from the side door towards the back alley.

She must have reached her limit, she noted as she saw her shivering hands. She leaned back on the cold stone wall, feeling like her legs could give out at any given moment. It's been a few days since she lost her job, and for Ymir, who was usually living from paycheck to paycheck, it meant a few days of having almost nothing to eat. She'd had water, and cup noodles, and with the few savings that she had, she'd bought bananas that she ate one piece per day, but her supply of food and money was running thin dangerously fast she wasn't even sure if it would last a week. Not to mention her rent and utility bills which were all due the end of the month – how was she going to pay for all of it? Once or two times she even wondered if she will be forced to steal just to eat, and go back out there in the streets to survive. Really, the drama club practice was the only thing on her mind right now, but then again – she wanted to meet Historia. Once she was out of here, there'd be no chance of her seeing Historia again, and she just wanted to imprint the image of that goddess in her memory now while she still could.

Just then, Ymir saw movement from the corner of her eyes. She thought it was Marco who'd come to scold her for not performing well on practice, but it wasn't. It was another male student instead, he was opening a trash can to throw in what seemingly look like a pack still full of cigarettes, and Ymir quickly yelled to stop him.

"Oi! You there!"

The student halted. His emerald green eyes went over to Ymir's, questioning.

"You talking to me?" he asked, pointing to himself. Ymir recognized him immediately.

"Yeager," she said breathlessly. "If you are going to throw that away," she signalled to the pack full of cigarettes. "You better give them to me."

A hint of understanding passed on Eren's face. "Sure," he said, and casually threw the cigarette pack to Ymir, who caught it deftly. "Need a lighter?"

"Yeah," Ymir replied, and caught the thing in her hand as well. "Thanks," she said, before lighting up a cigarette, and taking a long drag. "You quit smoking?" she asked Eren, who gave her a light shrug as a response. "You're welcome. And yeah, I quit," he responded.

"Not my business, but cool," said Ymir, taking another long drag from the cigarette, and blew the thin smoke into the air. Eren watched her intently. "Tough life, huh?" he remarked to no one in particular, but Ymir scoffed at his words. "Why'd you say so?" she asked.

"You finished those cigs like no tomorrow, that's why," Eren replied. "Been there, done that."

"Aren't you clever," she remarked sarcastically. "But yeah… things could have been better, I guess." Eren walked over and stood a few distance away from her, casually leaning on the stone walls with his legs crossed. "So… is it love, or money…?" he probed her, and Ymir sent him a look. He shrugged. "People who smoke together, bond together," Eren said. "Some of the closest bonds I made from my smoke buddies."

"You're right," Ymir replied. She didn't say anything after that though, and Eren was beginning to think that she wouldn't tell him anything, when suddenly he heard her speak.

"What's the best way to make money?"

"Legally, or illegally?"

"HA!" Ymir let out a laugh that sounded more like a sneer. "So you think I could handle some illegal jobs under my belt? Nice judgment, Yeager."

"Not implying anything," said Eren calmly. "Just offering you the options."

"I don't care, really. I just need money."

"How badly?"

"Real badly. I just need to survive."

"You can always do part-time jobs."

"You think I will be here if I already got a part time job?" she shot back at him, annoyed. "Business ain't exactly booming these days, Yeager. I've looked everywhere for a part time job. It's nada. Zip. Nilch. Every place I went to turned me down." She had started on her second cigarette now, her foot tapping restlessly, her head seemingly fuming with frustration. "I'm not even being picky and whatnot, but – there's just nothing available, nothing! I swear I'd take the first job I can get… if I ever got one."

Eren looked at her a few moments, trying to contemplate the facts silently inside his head. "I wouldn't recommend it, but if you're desperate for a job…," he started, then stopped. Ymir now looked at him, her eyes probing him to go on. He studied her for a few seconds, trying to determine if she was being serious. What he saw was an unwavering force of determination.

"It's not exactly legal," he reminded her. "Or… better to say… it's definitely illegal."

"I've had more than some illegal jobs myself," said Ymir, dismissing his concern. "Now go on."

"If you look online, there is a website called the Dollars," he said to Ymir, finally giving in. She was now watching him with her undivided attention. "When you get to the homepage, you will be asked for a password. The password is 'baccano' – type it in roman alphabet, all lowercase letters. Then when you get in, go to the chatroom and ask for Kanra. Tell them that you want any job that they can give. If they ask you where you got the information, just tell them that you know from Teen Titan – that is my pseudonym." Ymir stared at him for a long while, seemingly questioning the credibility of this information.

"I am not joking," said Eren, rather annoyed that the girl wouldn't believe him.

"It does sound like something out of anime."

"If you think I'm pulling some kind of prank, just prove it yourself later," he dismissed her. "And those are some mighty underground jobs, don't tell me I didn't warn you." His eyes flared rather dangerously at this statement. Ymir wanted to believe that he was joking, but it seemed like he did not. After all, before coming here, Eren had been known for having quite a dark reputation. Ymir wouldn't be surprised if the boy did know one, or two things about this underground business.

"Anyways," Eren said with a sneer, as he set out to exit the alley, waving his hand toward her in a nonchalant manner, as though he didn't just present the opportunity for illegal jobs right under Ymir's nose. "Wish you the best of luck on your job hunting."

***

(Will you stay by my side, will you promise me? If I touch you, you might fly away, you might be shattered)

(I'm scared, scared, scared)

The train slowed down to a complete stop, the doors were open briefly, and Ayako exited the train car swiftly and jumped on the platform, still talking on the phone. She knew that generally, talking on the phone while inside the train was frowned upon by the public, because the majority of people found it either rude or disturbing, but Ayako didn't really care since it was quite late and not many people had been in the train car with her tonight.

"I'm going to watch 'Private Eye' tonight," she told Jean, who was on the other end of the phone. "You know, that detective drama."

"Oh right, it's their final episode tonight."

"Yes, and I'm completely curious who the murderer is. I kind of have a theory, but I'll usually miss."

"Same with me," Jean laughed. "Where are you now?"

"On the pedestrian bridge. I'm just going to cross the road," she said. "I will text you when I am home."

"Okay. See you."

"See you."

Ayako hung up the phone, then proceeded to climb the stairs swiftly in light, springy steps. She thought excitedly about arriving home soon, taking a hot bath, then relaxing in front of the TV, watching the latest episode of detective drama that she'd been waiting for, while chatting with Jean. Joyfully, she strode past the bridge, then began to descend the stairs on the opposite side of the road. When she walked away from the crowded area and started entering a deserted alley which led to her neighborhood, she began to hear it.

There were light footsteps behind her. At first, she thought she was just imagining it, but after a while, she was sure it was not just in her imagination. When she walked, the person behind her walked, when she stopped, the pursuer also followed suit. She thought the footsteps were gone but after a while, she could hear them again, directly behind her. Not too close that she could see them, but not too far because she could still hear them. She panicked. She considered stopping and looking back just to see who was following her, but one part of her was too scared. What if she decided to look back and was attacked? After all, she was alone. The dark alley suddenly felt much too cramped for her, as though her stalker could jump at her at any moment. She began to feel genuinely frightened. Needless to say, she put one foot forward, and ran as fast as she could.

She ran, without even paying attention to the direction. All she wanted to do was just to avoid dark and cramped places, and found somewhere bright with a lot of people so the stalker had less chance of attacking her. She knew the person behind was also following her but she couldn't bear to turn around. She kept running even though her chest felt like it was about to burst and she was about to be deprived of oxygen, she didn't slow down at all, until –

"Ouch!" she yelled, and fell straight on hard concrete road. She had tripped, and fell hard on her right hand side. She could feel a terrifying jab of pain on her right wrist as she tried to cushion her fall with her right hand. She let out a gasp at the stinging pain. Breathless, she struggled to pick herself up and run again, even though the pain on her right wrist sent tears up on her eyes. Suddenly, before she could move from the spot, she heard the sound of a door opening, and a voice saying, "What's the matter, Miss?"

She turned, and, realizing where she was now, heaved a huge breath of relief. She didn't notice it when she was running, but she had actually arrived on a restaurant area near her neighborhood. She was standing in front of an Izakaya – a Japanese diner – and the owner was opening the door, looking at her with concern. "What's happening?" he said again, looking at her trembling, breathless state. From the corner of her eyes, Ayako could see the dark figure of her stalker disappearing to an adjacent alleyway.

"Somebody was… f-following me," she said with a shuddering breath, trying to collect herself together. The shop owner looked cross all of a sudden.

"You were being stalked? God damn it!" he cursed. "People these days…. Tomone!" he called to his wife inside the store, and a woman soon appeared on his side, looking just as concerned. "Can you take care of this young lady..? She just got stalked," he said, and the owner's wife looked as horrified. "Can you walk, Miss?" Ayako gave a weak nod. "Do you want to call the police?"

Ayako gave a slight thought, then shook her head no. "I will call home… they can pick me up," she said, and the shop owner agreed. She walked slowly toward the store, supporting her injured wrist which already begun to swell now. The shop owner's wife gave a look and a tut of disapproval. "What terrible injury," she said. "I'm not as good at first aid, but let me give you treatment. Please come inside, Miss." Ayako nodded, and followed her inside the store, her thoughts still racing.

***

Of course, her injury didn't escape Mikasa's attention the next day.

"What happened?" she said, frowning at the state of Ayako's heavily-bandaged wrist.

"I sprained it," said Ayako, trying to act as casually as possible. She was thankful that it was only a sprain and would take only about a week to heal. Honestly, she was quite positive that she'd broken her wrist yesterday. Mikasa raised her eyebrows.

"How did that happen?"

"Oh, I wasn't paying attention when I walked. I was… walking and… talking on telephone, you know."

"That's your bad habit," Mikasa commented, and Ayako was relieved when she did not press further. Her relief was short-lived, however. During lunch, Armin showed up to their gathering with bruises and bandages all over his arms.

"Hello Mikasa, Ayako," he said, sounding awfully normal despite the striking state of his injuries. "Is Eren here yet?" Mikasa, however, wasn't listening to his question.

"Armin!" she gasped, running nearby to take a closer look at her friend. "What the – what happened?"

"Just a little careless yesterday, Mikasa," he said. "I fell down the stairs." Mikasa gave him a sharp glare.

"That's the kind of thing I used to tell people when I want to avoid telling the truth," she said coolly, and Armin looked a bit shameful. "Really… what happened?"

It was a long, thick silence before Armin finally said something.

"I really did… fall down the stairs yesterday. It's true," he said quickly, when he saw Mikasa was about to open her mouth reproachfully. "I fell down the pedestrian bridge crossing. Somebody pushed me when I was going down the stairs." Mikasa tensed immediately.

"Did you see the person?" she asked, but Armin shook his head. "Too crowded. By the time I already recovered from the fall, whoever pushed me already disappeared in the crowd."

"Bastard!" Mikasa gave out a loud curse. But then she stopped. Her eyes went over to Ayako's bandaged wrist, then to Armin's state of injuries. Ayako knew, Mikasa was adding all the facts inside her head. And she also knew that her next question was coming.

"Ayako," asked Mikasa. She sounded calm, but the brunette knew that her friend was anything but calm inside. "What really happened yesterday? How did you sprain your wrist?"

There was a dangerous undertone in Mikasa's voice. It might be undetectable by others, but Ayako had been with her for long enough to sense it.

"No," she said, finally admitting the truth. She couldn't have kept it longer anyway, not in this condition. "Somebody followed me yesterday, on the way home from school. I got injured when I tried to run away from them."

"I see," said Mikasa. She wasn't looking at either Armin nor Ayako. For a while, it was difficult to determine her emotion, because she absolutely avoided eye contact with any of them. A minute of deafening silence passed, Ayako could hear her heartbeat drumming on her ears. Then, they heard Mikasa said, shortly, "I'll be back."

She left the home economic labs with long strides.

"Mikasa!" Armin shouted from behind her, but she ignored him.

Armin was pushed off pedestrian bridge and injured. Ayako was stalked on her way home and also injured. Such systematic attacks happened on the same day toward two of her friends.

There could only be one person in this entire school who was responsible for it.

And Mikasa was ready to let her know her position.

***

A painful cry was heard from one deserted back alley of the school complex. Two girls could be seen there, the one with black hair was mercilessly twisting the other girl's hand behind her back, and had pinned her against the wall.

"Nanako," Mikasa, the black-haired girl, spoke to the other girl. Her voice was completely devoid of emotion. "You might be misunderstanding me here. I am not here to ask. I'm here to make you confess. What did you do to my friends?"

"I didn't do anything," Nanako said, sobbing tearfully at the pain of her twisted arm. Mikasa was strong at her normal state, and this time she was even more fuelled by anger. "I don't know… I really don't – AAAAH!" she screamed again in agony, as Mikasa twisted her hand even further.

"Aren't you embarrassed to keep telling lie? Your tongue must be so fat cause you greased it so well…," Mikasa commented. Nanako tried to struggle to get off her grip, but it was futile. Mikasa had the grip of iron. "Ayako had her wrist injured yesterday because of you… now, should I break your wrist too? An eye for an eye, yes?"

"You will pay for this!" Nanako cursed breathlessly and struggled even harder. Clenching her teeth, she sent Mikasa a death glare, but the other girl remained completely unfazed.

"You will be expelled for this, I swear! I'll rob you of everything, Mikasa!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, fighting the agony that the other girl had instilled into her senses.

"Oh, try me," said Mikasa, sounding bored. "If you've got nothing more to say, let's see how you confess after I break your wrist…"

"Stop!"

"No, Mikasa! Stop, stop!" A very breathless Armin and Ayako emerged from the end of the alley and grabbed their friend, forcefully dragging her away from Nanako. They had been looking everywhere for Mikasa, and thankfully, Nanako's screams brought them here. The brown-haired girl fell down to the ground, frightened and breathless, finally free from Mikasa's grip, while Mikasa screamed in anger at the interruption of her two friends.

"Armin, Ayako! Let go! Don't you step in! This is MY business!"

"We can't… let you… do this… Mikasa!" said Armin, struggling with all his might to keep his friend in place. He noted in horror how his friend's eyes glared dangerously with anger. She was furious. And they had to use all their strengths to keep her from unleashing her rampage.

"She's hurt you, she should suffer too!" Mikasa tried to break free from Ayako and Armin's restraint. "Let me go!"

"We know… but not like this… Mikasa!" Armin breathed in heavily. "Don't do this… you don't need to be on her level! Mikasa!"

These words seemed to slap Mikasa on the face. Slowly, she sucked in her quivering breath. Her senses seemed to return to her gradually. She glared at Nanako, who was still sitting on the ground, tearfully massaging her wrist which had been twisted by Mikasa with all her strength. Suddenly, that trembling figure crouching on the ground before her looked really pitiful. Mikasa stood up straight.

"Armin, Ayako, please let me go," she said. Both of them exchanged hesitant looks.

"I'm not going to injure Nanako. I promise."

Slowly, sensing that she had somewhat returned to normal, Ayako and Armin both released their hands which had been restraining her. Mikasa moved closer to Nanako. They both started, afraid that she might make a scene again, but Mikasa held up a hand.

"I'm not going to do anything, I promise," she said again. Again, Armin and Ayako exchanged looks, but both took a step back.

"Nanako," Mikasa addressed the girl before her this time. "I'll let you know one thing."

Nanako stared back at her, still crouching at her place on the ground. She looked scared, but all the same still quite defiant.

"I know you're behind all these incidents targeting me in school." A look of surprise passed on Nanako's face, but she didn't dare to open her mouth. "I know it already, but I never attempt to stop it. So don't you forget –" Mikasa said, moving even closer. Her voice was cool but threatening, just like the harshest winter. Her gaze was hard as steel, pinning into Nanako, unyielding and unforgiving, "That the reason you can act as you please, is because I just let you have your way." She paused, and Nanako felt a chill.

"So… Don't get too cocky. And keep your damn dirty hands off my friends."

Mikasa walked away, once again emphasizing the words Never Forget and Nanako was left alone, forced to swallow a mouthful of her bitterness, slamming both of her fists to the ground as she screamed in anger, tears of frustration welling up her face.

*** Anger was still fuming inside Nanako as she walked to the train station that afternoon, her feet stomping hard on the ground as she strode furiously, boiling at the thought of humiliation caused to her by Mikasa.

I just let you have your way.

Stomp.

Don't get too cocky.

Stomp stomp.

Never forget.

That damn bitch Mikasa. She'd done everything to her imaginable – damaging her reputation, making her a target of school bullying, trying to go after her friends, but she didn't even bat an eyelash. First it was Yeager putting a stop to all the bullying, then when she thought she'd got her cornered, suddenly that bitch stood up for herself and threatened her.

The reason you can act as you please, is because I just let you have your way.

Nanako felt disgraced and humiliated every time she remembered those words. So… again, Mikasa did all of this purposedly, didn't she? She backed away into a corner, keeping a low profile and letting Nanako thought she'd won… while all the while she just cunningly watched her from afar, laughing with her little group of friends, waiting for her perfect chance to snatch her glory back.

I let you have your way. I let you win, Nanako.

"Bitch!"Nanako cursed inwardly. She gritted her teeth. Really… after all this time, Mikasa had never changed. She was always that pretentious bitch who knew all along about Nanako's intentions but pretended not to know… to lead her along, all the while she watched silently from the sidelines and laughed away at Nanako's humiliation, pain, and struggle.

Mikasa always loved tricking people after all, that fake-ass bitch.

"I'll get her back. I'll get her back! I'll expose her!" Nanako was so busy with her own thoughts, that she didn't realize bumping into someone. Too absorbed to apologize, she just walked away. But the person she bumped into didn't quite think the same.

"Hey," said a voice behind her.

The next moment, someone pulled her arm, hard. Then that person seized her collar, and Nanako was staring at a girl with blonde hair and pale crystal blue eyes. She was short, probably around Nanako's height. But her strength was immense. Her face was pretty, but this time she clearly didn't look pleased. She looked downright pissed, even. She was glaring at Nanako.

"If you bump into someone, you should apologize," she said, cold fury in her voice. Nanako choked. That made two times she was manhandled by someone today, and both times had been by girls as well. Some rotten luck she got today indeed.

"Hey," the girl said again, as Nanako stuttered an incomprehensible apology. The girl didn't look satisfied.

"Louder, I can't hear you," she said, shaking her, urging her with a hint of cruelty on her tone. Nanako was about to fear for her dear life, when suddenly, the figure of a boy with an undercut and slicked-back brown hair appeared from behind the girl. He had a serious look on his face.

"Annie, cut it out. We don't have time for this," said the boy. The girl called Annie gave a tired sigh.

"Today's your lucky day," she said to Nanako, then loosened her grip. Nanako immediately retreated. She was about to run down to her train platform and avoid any further business with them, when she caught the conversation between her.

"You sure we'll meet him today?" the boy said to the girl, who shrugged.

"Who knows? Can't be sure of anything when it comes to Eren. I've been here for a few days but still I couldn't get to him."

Nanako stopped and turned around.

"Tried calling him?" the boy asked again.

"He blocked all communications with us. At this rate, we'll just have to ambush him, Marcel."

"He really thinks he could bail on us like that, huh?" the boy called Marcel smirked.

"Pretty bold of him, don't you think?" Annie replied with a cold smile.

Nanako watched them from behind as they spoke. Eren. Marcel. Annie. Then her sight fell on their uniforms, and she slowly understood. Shiganshina East High uniforms.

They were Shiganshina East High students.

Eren Yeager's former school.

Quietly, a plan began to form on the back of her minds. Yeager for sure was expelled from his previous school. If she could know what it was… If she could somehow use it to her advantage… then she might be able to eliminate Eren, Mikasa's best support system, the person who always thwarted her plans.

What's the best way to take him out?

Nanako reached out her hand and called to the two students before her.

"Excuse me," she said, and they both turned. Annie's eyes narrowed dangerously at the sight of her.

"Why are you still here?" she asked, but Nanako replied with a sweet smile.

"I'm very sorry for earlier," she said, giving them both a very respectful bow. This sudden change of attitude left the two students puzzled. Annie gave a confused look to Marcel, who returned it with the same clueless expression.

"I happen to overhear your conversation…," Nanako continued. "Actually… I'm a Shiganshina North High Student… and I happen to be Eren Yeager's friend. Are you both looking for him?" ***

(My heart makes a sound. I don't know if it's a dream or reality)

(My Kafka on the shore, please don't go to the forest over there)

"I had no idea that Kanra was a guy," said Ymir as she stared to the guy sitting opposite her from the table. "From the way they talked in the chat, I'm pretty convinced it was a she."

The person sitting opposite her – a guy with broad, muscular figure, pale blonde hair, and firm face lines with an expression which always seemed to be frowning, gave a loud snort.

"Kanra will never be on the frontline," he said. "I am not Kanra. And nobody knows if it's a he or she."

"Makes sense," Ymir said, leaning back casually on her chair. "So… they're the big boss and you're the underling, huh?"

"You are about to be an underling of that underling," said the guy sitting opposite her, clearly none too pleased. "And you are not going to get the job if you continue to act all cocky."

"Sorry," said Ymir, acknowledging her mistake. "Please go on."

The guy pulled out a thin paper wrapping from his pocket, put it on the table, then slid it over to Ymir, who caught it in swift motion.

"We call it Amber," he said as Ymir discreetly unwrapped the paper package, her face already showed hints of understanding. "Crystals. We sell it in powder forms. They go by milligrams. People put it usually on their drinks, inhale, or just… consume it directly. Demand's been high around these times, especially when people are trying hard to pass exams or work overnight shifts."

"I understand," Ymir said calmly.

"Your job is just to deliver these to the buyers. I don't care where you are – or what you're doing. If I call, you need to show up immediately. No excuse can be given, we don't tolerate so much around here."

Ymir wrapped the paper package easily, then slid it across the table, back to its owner.

"And I suppose, if I get caught, none of you will bail me out of jail, right?"

"Don't even think of it," replied the guy curtly. "The best rule is to never get caught."

"Figured as much," Ymir smirked. "Now… just one question, if I may ask," she said, as the owner pocketed the paper wrapping.

"Name it."

"Your name?"

For a while, the guy seemed to be contemplating.

"Don't worry," said Ymir, reassuring him with a rather scornful smile. "I'll never get caught. You'll never hear me breathe a word about you to anyone else."

It was a long while before he finally answered, in a kind of low growl.

"I go by the name Reiner."

***

The three of them were sitting in a family restaurant now. Nanako glanced nervously from Marcel, to Annie, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table from her. They certainly looked different from normal high school students. Sure, they were wearing uniforms and bringing their book bags, but there was a certain aura around them that made it easy to tell how they had been through things, seen things, that no average high school student had ever really experienced on a normal day basis. The first day Eren Yeager stepped in to Shiganshina North High, he too, had borne the same look on his eyes.

"So?" Annie started with the same cold, bored voice. "You said you have information on Eren. What kind of information?"

Nanako nodded, and gulped nervously. This girl called Annie, it was really easy to be intimidated by her presence. Annie's sharp blue eyes glared at Nanako, imploring. Nanako knew she wasn't the type of person who'd want to waste her time on any kind of unimportant information.

"I have info on… uhh… general information. You see, the kind of person he spends time with… and, and the kind of person he is at school."

"Useless information," Annie said harshly, and Nanako's heart sank.

"I- I'm in the same class with him."

"In the same class? You said you were his friend." She glared inquisitively, and Nanako felt her heart took another downward leap. She froze, and Annie continued to carefully observe the girl with her eyes, until she finally gave an impatient sigh.

"She is lying, Marcel. She has no important information on Eren. Let's get out of here," she was about to rise from her seat, but Nanako pleaded.

"Wait!" she said, in a desperate attempt to stop Annie. "Y-you're right! I lied about Yeager being my friend! Truth is… I just… I can't stand the sight of him!"

Annie stopped. She was definitely looking at Nanako now. The girl had abandoned her sweet smile, her calm demeanor, and was now looking at Annie with what could only be interpreted as absolute loathing on her face. Annie's lips pursed to form a thin, mirthless smile. "So we are finally talking business," she said, sinking back down on her seat. "Go on."

"I want him to disappear," Nanako said. "I want him to not ever set step on Shiganshina North High complex ever again. I don't want to ever see him again. That's why I thought… if I know about his past… If I could use it somehow… then I can get rid of that disgusting, annoying pest."

Annie took a sip of her ice tea, clearly finding the conversation of no interest. "You want to know about Eren's past?" she inquired, her impassive blue eyes glanced over Nanako, there was frost on her gaze, her smile, and her words. "How brave. The details might too harsh for your soft ears though."

"Annie," Marcel said with a warning tone. "Sorry," said Annie with a shrug. She put several loose strands of hair back behind her ears, then proceeded to speak. "If you want Eren out of there, that can be arranged. We are looking for ways to get him out of there anyway. We'll take him back."

"Wait," Marcel said, "We can still ask her for the other job."

Annie stared. "Which one?"

Marcel pulled her nearer and whispered something on her ear. Annie gave out another sigh and sank back on her seat.

"Fine. You ask her, then."

Marcel brought out his cellphone and unlocked it. After scrolling through it for a while, he finally showed a picture to Nanako.

"Do you know this girl? She is a student in Shiganshina North High too."

Nanako stared at the picture for a long while, then nodded. "Yes," she said shortly. "I know her."

Annie and Marcel exchanged brief looks. Then, Marcel gave a subtle nod, and Annie proceeded to speak.

"We need information on this girl."

"I can give you that," said Nanako hurriedly. A little bit too fast. "And… and if I do give you," she continued, "Will you… will you get rid of Yeager?"

"Don't get impudent," said Annie, with such a cold, harsh tone that Nanako backed down a bit. "You only need to give information on this girl to us. And keep an eye on Eren too. We only need to know when he goes home from school. What happens afterward with him… we'll take care of it."

Nanako felt as though her insides froze at Annie's cool, ruthless words. That time, she was glad she wasn't Eren Yeager.

***

(I would stop the time, once this moment passes by)

(That it might become something that didn't happen. I'm scared, scared, scared)

He'd learned that one touch was really all it took to put things in motion.

Just like today, he'd found her in the empty classroom, Mikasa was bending over her books, trying to finish her notes from the classes earlier this afternoon and he'd sat himself down beside her, determined to wait until she was finished so they could walk together to the station.

But as always, he was never really good at waiting. Soon, he'd traveled the distance between them, and he'd bent down, she'd looked up in anticipation, and the next moment, he'd closed the last few centimeters between them with a tender kiss on her lips.

"We really shouldn't," she let out a meek protest, but he dismissed her. "We have time," he said, and pulled her on to sit on his lap, her warmth ground against his pressing hardness teasingly as she settled on top of him. He let out a low groan. They went for another long, deep kiss which left them breathless by the end. Breathing heavily, he undid a few buttons on her shirt, and she let him explore her as he pleased, tongue and lips ghosting at her skin, devouring her, drinking her like no tomorrow. Sometimes his hands were cupping her soft, supple breasts, sometimes they stroked her right where she wanted to be touched, and sometimes, they were on her mouth if he thought that she'd been too loud.

"The teacher…," she said, in between her shuddering breaths. "They'll come soon."

"We'll hear them," he said, still busily tracing her curves with his lips. His hand went up to her bra and unclasped it – he was so good at this that Mikasa couldn't help but wonder how many times he'd been trained with the exact same situation, and how many girls had slept with him before.

"We are at risk," she said, squirming slightly under his touch.

"I know," he said. "But I love trespassing dangerous area with you." He buried his face on her chest, and let her take off his shirt, which she tossed aside. Soon they were both naked from the waist up, inside each other's arms, skin to skin. He traced his hands gingerly on her skin, wondering slightly how come it never got old – to drink in the sight of her, and savor every moment. If love was a drug, surely he was an addict – for every time he savored her taste, he ended up craving more.

"You love danger in your every waking moment," she said, grinding against him in slow, torturous pace that elicited a low moan from him. "We don't have long today," she noted, planting another deep kiss on his lips as she continued riding him, rocking her hips back and forth, in a way that almost made him burst out of his mind. Frustrated, he grabbed both of her hands, locking them in place. She sent him a questioning look.

"Then let's be quick."

***

(You're just like a butterfly)

(I steal a glance of you from far away, fearing that I might lose you if my hand touches you)

She didn't want to say too many things when they walked back home.

It had been cold, that their breaths turned into white smokes before them. They walked side by side, hand on hand, witnessing as the sun sank lower and lower on the western horizon, before the pale shadow of the moon came up from the east.

It was only a fifteen minutes' walk to the train station, but they took their time. In no rush, they each tried their best to take everything in. The calm, peaceful surrounding. The sound of breaths being inhaled and exhaled in the cold air, their footsteps – slow and steady, and the warmth of the other person's hand interlinked with their own.

Time had always been a relative concept, it stretched or contracted depending on gravity. Certain events and certain people in life produced a high gravity pull, and the higher gravity pull is, the quicker time passes. Mikasa wondered slightly if that was why she'd always felt time passed by quickly, too quickly when she was with him. Had she always gravitated toward him, just like the earth toward the sun?

***

Sometimes, Eren was afraid of good things.

Good things were like dreams. Peaceful, and happy – but deep in his heart, he knew that they could never last. And the better things were, the more hurtful it's going to be when he had to wake up.

He was always afraid of waking up.

That day, when he saw Mikasa off at her train platform, he'd hoped that these good days would last at least for a bit longer. So he could smile with her, laugh with her, as though was no bitter end.

But as he ascended the stairs from the platform and ready to catch his own train home, his gaze fell on a figure waiting on top of the stairs – a figure he'd known so well.

"Long time no see, Eren."

And that time, he knew – that this was going to be the day he woke up from his never-ending sweet dreams.

***

(Like a wind that gently strokes me. Like a dust that lightly drifts in the air)

(You're there but for some reason, I can't reach you)

He wanted to cry, or scream, or kick and destroy everything around him, but in the end, he couldn't do anything. Everything was beyond his control. There was no use doing anything.

Eren sank himself down on the nearest public bench near him. The sky had turned dark, everywhere around him was deserted. It was just him, and the empty sounds of his breaths filling the air. He felt cold, and bitter, and alone. His mind started to play the reels from earlier events back at him.

"Long time no see, Eren," said a familiar voice. He'd looked up then and seen Annie, pinning him with her cool gaze, her face as hard as steel.

"Did you memorize my schedule or what?" he asked, his calm and dry voice betrayed his frantic mind. "I'm rather busy now, Annie."

"What are you trying to do now?" she answered her question with another question instead. She descended a few steps, getting nearer to him, not being swayed by the deep, loathsome look on his face. "Playing around, trying to make friends, getting a girlfriend…? Do you actually believe it will work out for you this time, Eren?"

He clenched his fists and tried not to make any countering remark. The girl had descended a few steps further and was now within an arm's length from him. She studied the boy carefully, her frosty gaze met his fiery green eyes, her calmness a contrast to his repressed emotions. "Poor her," Annie smirked, whispering on Eren's ear. "Does she know what you have done, Eren?"

At this, Eren slammed his fist to the metal hand railing. His eyes flared, his temper burst to the surface, his constraint broke.

"Annie," he said heatedly, with such obvious anger that it was a wonder how she remained completely unfazed. "What are you saying?"

"You can never be part of the light, Eren," she said. Her words were calm, but the poisonous manner in which she spat them had struck him completely where he was vulnerable. "Do you really think you can escape from your sins? Never! You will always be part of the dark, Eren. You belong with us. We're the only ones who can understand you. And we're the only ones who will ever accept you for who you truly are."

Her words got more and more merciless, like sharp knives slicing on his flesh, breaking him, and tearing him apart. She might as well have held a real knife and stabbed him with it, took his life along with it, and probably it wouldn't hurt as bad. For a while, for a short, sweet while there he believed, he'd really believed – that he'd found his place on the other side of the line, that he'd done enough, struggled enough, to leave everything in his past behind him, to redeem himself, to start anew… only to find out that his past would always live, it would always be there, and come back to haunt him.

You can never be part of the light.

Her words had destroyed him. It had touched a trigger, deep inside himself, and released all the welled-up emotions that he had been gatekeeping inside his heart. The world retreated, shrunk, and spun around beneath him. When he came back to his consciousness, he was looking at Mikasa's number on his phone.

Even in this situation, or perhaps it was exactly because he was in this situation, he was longing to see her all the more desperately. He wanted to see her, he wanted to confess to her. I wasn't a good person, I couldn't become a good person, I might never be able to become a good person.

He dialled her number, and put his phone up to his ear. His breath was shaky, his hands were trembling.

I'm lost. I'm exhausted. I don't know what to do.

I just want to see you now.

#hourglass #eremika #snk #snk au #aot #aot au #snk fanfic

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kineticallyanywhere · 3 years

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got tagged by @writingondaisies!

How many works do you have on AO3?

14 (there’s one I should move from ff.net soon, but it’s not there now)

What’s your total AO3 word count?

270,817

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

In order of recencey... Dungeons & Daddies, RWBY, Red vs Blue, The Flash/Arrowverse, Danny Phantom, Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja, (back into ff.net days, Kim Possible, American Dragon: Jake Long, a Percy Jackson one-shot... another thing... Warriors)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Mind over Matter (Red vs Blue)

Fourteen, and four thousand, years old (RWBY)

Flying, falling, stand your ground (RWBY)

The Way Out (Red vs Blue)

Washin’Boose (Red vs Blue)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to for long-running fics and for especially long or intense comments, but I’m usually just so nervous ;<; they all warm my heart tho, there is not one that I haven’t read more than once

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I’m typically allergic to straight tragedy, but... I think probably Put your Stampler in a box (D&Dads), since the whole thing is a hypothetical lead-up to a magic teenager going on a rampage. Mind over Matter has a really emotional ending, but I like to think it’s more bittersweet than straight angst. Fourteen, and four thousand, years old swerves into angst, but nobody’s dying or anything so... yeah!

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Heroes Under Drinking Age is the incomplete MASSIVE thing which is supposed to ultimately crossover Danny Phantom, RC9GN, American Dragon, and Kim Possible. I hit a hard writing wall on the ADJL and KP side and just never got over it :( I still dream of finishing it

Oh I guess there’s also a TMA-D&Dads crossover I’ve put some thought into, where after s5 Jon and Martin land in Faerun to replace The Library, and they get to decompress in this strange world, meet the Likelys, and hear about the eldritch-adjacent beings from other worlds.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope! (knocks on all the wood) at least not if you’re not counting someone pointing out spelling stuff unsolicited or stuff like that.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

n o p e

when I did Demons not sold separately (D&Dads) they kiss like two times and talk about the prospect of doing more, but it doesn’t go anywhere cause there’s kids nearby. I tagged it as “ace writing allos” just in case, cause boy howdy do I not know what I’m doing in that department ^u^’

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of? I wouldn’t know where to start checking for that and if it’s happened, no one’s told me about it

Have you ever had a fic translated?

only in my dreams

Washin’Boose got a pod-fic tho!!

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I don’t ship too much and I slide around a lot when I do, but Clark KentxLois Lane 4ever

Whats a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Heroes Under Drinking Age, my beloved...

I’ve also got a number of AUs for DnDads, some with enough written that I may as well post some of the stuff as one-shots to maybe expand on later. One is a high school au where Hen (14) comes to Earth early, another is an exploration of what it might be like to be a sort of demi-god descendant of a chaos entity with the Doodler Cult coming back (called Puberty, ????, and You). Idk if Done Sons and Dragons counts, cause that’d be a whole comic. I’d love to publish something of at least one of these

And then there’s a half-baked idea for Yet Another Oscar Time Travel AU for RWBY, that would take place starting after v8 and would feature Oscar and Emerald traveling back to the series start (on purpose.)

What are your writing strengths?

I’ve gotten quite a few compliments on my prose and scene pacing! I like writing prose like it’s the thought process of the character I’m following, and I often find myself getting a bit poetic about it. I’m a big fan of parallelisms and using repetition for impact.

I also put a lot into trying to match the original tone of the content I’m writing fic for, and have gotten quite a few compliments on my character dialogue. I just get their voices in my brain and they don’t leave. On only one occasion have they paid rent. The freeloaders.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I bite off more than I can chew and never finish

I worry a lot over making sure emotional beats connect, and that it doesn’t feel like I’m jumping from point A to point C, and I’m afraid that makes me over-explain point B. Like I was rereading HUDA: Alpha after I posted it to ao3, and I have a lot of grace for my high school self, but some parts of that fic could have been smoothed out quite a bit. Parts of Mind over Matter are a bit wordier than they needed to be, too.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I feel like it’s best done by people who are fluent in a language. Language isn’t just changing words from A to B, it comes with cultural connotations and altered meanings and layers that are only going to come across perfectly when it comes from someone who knows exactly what they’re talking about. so like if I were ever to use more than a few words or a common phrase in another language in a fic, I’d find someone who actually speaks it to help me out.

as for how to format it... if the meaning needs to be understood by the reader, you may as just put it in the fic’s main language and alter the formatting (like with itallics) or dialogue tag to denote that they’re speaking another language. If it’s small bits, I don’t super mind footnotes at the bottom or just leaving it untranslated, like a special bit for people who speak the language or are willing to look it up.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

warrior cats! me, my best friend, and my older sister all had OCs and were part of RainClan, our OC clan. Their camp was made in the trunk and branches of a big willow tree that made a kind of sheltered dome. I didn’t even know what fanfiction was back then

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Mind over Matter. Hands down. For one, it’s actually done. That would put it in contest with The Way Out, which is also multi-chapter and complete, but MoM is WAY longer and took SO much more work but was SO worth it. It started as just scratching an itch and then grew into something that helped me prove to myself that I can do a long-term project, including themes and foreshadowing and narrative hootenanny and character arcs and character relationship arcs. the html coding. It was a great time, I’m so proud of it, editing it helped build one of my best friendships, and there is nothing I would trade that experience for.

tagging @aryashi, @cinaed, @hedgiwithapen, and @glowstickia

#sorry i missed this for a few days!#takes me a while to check my mentions #tag games #about me #my writing #me talking

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 1-3: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation [3rd Beta Test]

*Light and Night Master-list is under WIP *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Game is slated for release this summer! (Estimated to be 8/8/21) *Beta Test’s main story tag will be #Dreams of Light and Night

Police: Name?

Cindy: My name's Cindy. My earrings are gone! I've spent an entire week on them. Please, you must help me find them!

The girl who was desperate to the brink of tears was none other than Cindy, the oldest contestant amongst us all.

Half an hour ago, Cindy had suggested reporting this to the police seeing as how many of the designers had their accessories go missing. Now, she was the first one to undergo questioning by the police.

Police: Earrings, you say? Alright, I've noted it down. Has anyone else lost anything?

Designer A: Me. I lost an Emerald hairpin.

Designer B: My pearl necklace is gone too.

MC: I'm (Y/n), my brooch has also gone missing.

Police: I've gotten the gist of the situation here. All of your items were found lost after less than half an hour after having been left here.

Police: My colleague went to check the surveillance tapes. There was no one suspicious who entered and left the room during that time frame.

Cindy: How can that be...

Police: But there are blind spots where the surveillance cameras cannot reach. Plus, things don't simply disappear for no reason at all.

Police: So, I'm asking everyone to think carefully about it again. Did any of you see anyone who was acting suspicious?

MC: A suspicious looking person…

The image of the figure dressed in black and wearing a mask flashed into my mind along with his skull pendant and flickering silver chains.

MC: I saw someone that I didn't recognize walk out of the room, but I thought that he was a model…

MC: But now that I think about it, no model would come here.

Police: What did this person look like?

MC: He’s very tall and looks to be around 185cm. He wasn’t wearing a staff uniform.

Police: Can you give me a detailed description of his appearance and how he was dressed?

I nodded, trying my hardest to remember what I’d seen in that split-second.

MC: I couldn’t make out his features since he wore a black mask, but I remember his clothes…!

MC: He wore a black leather jacket paired with light grey jeans and a pair of studded boots.

MC: He had a long silver necklace with a skull pendant hanging from it along with a few silver chains hanging from his waist.

MC: His countenance is hard to describe. He appears to give off a very mysterious vibe, but honestly, the design of the pants he wore needs to be optimized...

I continued prattling on, unaware of how the policeman who’d been recording my descriptions down stopped short.

Police: Optimized?

Suddenly realizing what I'd just said, my face flushed in embarrassment.

MC: Sorry, but that's pretty much all I saw…

Police: Alright. We'll look further into the matter with this information.

Police: However, considering the large number of people here, the vastness of the venue and the small number of missing items, it’ll be quite difficult to find them.

Police: You'd best be prepared.

Everyone lapsed into collective silence after the police left. The solemness of the atmosphere in here was tangible, like a heavy cloud that hung over all of our heads.

Cindy had already succumbed to despair. She silently squatted down; head buried into the crook of her arm.

★Night Choice: Settle your own problems (Didn't select)

☆Light Choice: Comfort Her

I walked up to her, gently patting her back.

MC: Don't worry, I'm sure the police will be able to help us all find our missing accessories.

Cindy: You guys are all young and talented… you'll have other ways to spring back if you fail here, so of course you wouldn't be too worried about it… but such a thing doesn't exist for me…

Her soft voice was distorted by her sniffling, so much that I could barely distinguish what she was trying to say between sobs.

I'd overheard the others talking about her before. Cindy was originally a white-collar worker who'd eventually resigned and got a loan to study design overseas. It was a do-or-die situation for her, in a way.

I didn't know what I should say to comfort her, for everything I say right now would only pale in comparison to what she was going through. All I could do was to gently pat her back.

Cindy: Why did this have to happen now…? It took me such painstaking efforts to get this far…

All the doom and gloom that she exuded was contagious, and I soon felt my heart drop along with her worsening mood.

???: What are you crying about?

No one actually expected Wu Yue, of all people, to be saying something this harsh. She strode out of the crowd under everyone's surprised gazes, walking in front of Cindy and pulling her back upright. Her expression was a tad savage.

Wu Yue: If you don't want to let all your previous effort go to waste, then you'd jolly well shut your trap and redo it. Do you really think it was all so easy for everyone to get this far!

Wu Yue: Those who whinge and always feel sorry for themselves but do nothing to fix it will never succeed.

This was the first time I've ever heard her speak off-stage.

I couldn't help but to be surprised at the look of dead seriousness on her face.

MC: There's still another 3 days before the competition, so let's hurry and start re-doing what we've lost.

Gao Cheng: I... I can help everyone fetch the materials they need. You can also ask me for help if any of you need an extra hand...

Designer A: I've already long since wanted to change my hairpin design! I'm sure the new one this time will turn out a hundred times better! You guys better watch out!

More contestants started inputting, and the gloomy atmosphere soon dissipated. Cindy had also stopped crying, vigorously rubbing at her eyes.

Cindy: You guys are right. I cannot give up here…

Despite all of us not knowing what results awaited us 3 days later, and despite all of us being fellow competitors, we were all teammates now, working hard with the same goal in mind.

After getting our moods in check, everyone returned to their own working space, making the best out of the remaining time left to continue with their respective creations.

❖☆———————————★❖

The hands on the clock had already moved past the 8 PM mark by the time if gotten up for a good stretch.

MC: The gown's pretty much good to go, and I've also finished drawing out the new brooch design. Everything's turning out pretty well~

Gao Cheng: Your design's inspired by the starry skies, right? It's really pretty…

Gao Cheng's faze lingered on the draft of my design for a while before he seemingly snapped out of it. He raised his head, frantically waving his hands in front of him with a flustered look on his face.

Gao Cheng: S-Sorry, it wasn't my intention to peek at your design. I just happened to get attracted to it when I walked past…

MC: Don't worry about it, you came at a great time. Could you tell me what you think about it?

Gao Cheng: Is the brooch meant to represent the brightest star in the sky?

MC: Yup, it represents the north star.

Gao Cheng: But Polaris isn't actually all that bright. It shines at 2nd magnitude, so you can use a darker gemstone to represent it.

It was as if he were an entirely different person when it came to the topic of stars. He gushed enthusiastically about it with unrivalled passion and seriousness.

Gao Cheng: Ah, I just like astronomy, so I know about it a little more than others. Please don't get mad at me...

MC: Why would I be mad? I'm actually extremely thankful for your input!

I'd previously searched up pictures of the starry sky up on the internet to use as reference pictures, but what Gao Cheng said reminded me once again that even though the pictures captured by a camera's lens turn out beautiful, it still isn't as real as the real thing.

Nothing beats seeing it with your own eyes and ascertaining it for yourself after all.

MC: Maybe I should go up to the rooftop and check the stars out.

❖☆———————————★❖

The cold air of the night greets me as I push open the doors to the rooftop. The vast night sky was spread out before my eyes, the many little red dots beneath it denoting lights of the thousands of households below.

I held onto the railing with both hands raising my head to inhale deeply.

It was then that my phone rang to life as messages from An'an came pouring in one line after another.

An'an (SMS): I've gotten my hands on the guest list!

An'an (SMS): You won't believe how elaborate this guest line-up is! Osborn's actually coming, you know!? His club's going to be collaborating with the Warson Group!

MC: ...Osborn?

An'an (SMS): Please tell me you still remember him. I've shown you a picture of him before! He's my favourite R1 racer who has won 4 consecutive championships!

I hadn't yet had the chance to truly think back on it when I suddenly heard a faint noise. It was the familiar sound of metallic chains clinking against each other.

There had been no one here when I came up to the rooftop.

My heart leapt to my throat as I unwittingly headed towards the direction of the sound.

There was someone hidden within the shadows, standing silently in one of the corners where the moonlight never reached.

Seemingly having noticed my gaze, the person moved forwards, stepping out of the shadows.

❖☆———————————★❖

I finally managed to vaguely make out his appearance. He was tall and intimidating even from a distance away. He wore a black jacket across his shoulders, the moonlight glinting off the skull necklace that rested upon his chest.

MC: That's the guy I saw back in the corridor!

I hadn't yet recovered from the initial surprise of seeing him here when I suddenly noticed that he was holding a red earring between his fingers.

Cindy's Earrings! So, he really WAS the thief!

The clouds blocked off the moonlight, darkening the skies as my heart raced, pounding loudly in my ears. Did I interrupt him in the middle of something? Am I going to be "silenced"?

All hesitation flew out the window the moment my thoughts stopped there. I immediately turned and made a dash for the exit.

However, just as I was about to pull the door open and make my escape, a well-defined hand pressed against the door, blocking off my escape.

??: And just where are you running off to now?

❖☆————— ⊹ Dreams of Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-1) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-5)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #Dreams of Light and Night

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konohagakureship · 4 years

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Hidan and Kakuzu d&d au! Two more members of the Akatsuki Fellowship!! They are travelling around Khorvaire, in the world of Eberron!

au! Akatsuki D&D

Headcanons:

All the info related to places and clans is from the canonic lore of Eberron, or from interpretations that I’ve found here and there, and also a bit of my own homebrew lore. I’m gathering all the info and sources in my WorldAnvil page so you can check it out if you want :)

And this is the map with notes so you can pin all the locations.

This time I chose to put only the info relevant to the characters to make the post shorter. But still, this will be a LONG post so be prepared xD

Founding of the Akatsuki Fellowship

All the members of the party met in Sharn, the biggest city of the continent of Khorvaire. They were there for different reasons but ended up travelling together across the world.

Hidan the bloody warlock

Hidan was born in the warrior nation of Karrnath in the city of Atur, where the living and dead coexist in a daily basis.

His parents were members of the Blood of Vol cult, and actively participated in the life of the Crimson Monastery, the largest worship site dedicated to Vol in the entire continent.

From a young age, his parents instructed him in the faith of the Divinity Within and encouraged him to follow their path and become a Seeker of the Blood of Vol.

The Blood of Vol is a religion centered on the belief of Divinity Within, which means that they do not revere any deity but the blood that courses through their own veins. The followers of the Blood of Vol are called Seekers, and many of them are necromancers employed by the government of Karrnath to control their undead soldiers.

Seekers believe that death is a curse prevent mortals from achieving divinity, so by breaking the curse of mortality, humanity will be able to live a plenty existence. Necromancy is an attempt to fight the curse of mortality and prevent the loss of the knowledge and skills obtained by past generations.

Contrary to the popular belief, Seekers cherish life and do not want to become undead. Those who become undead are considered to be martyrs who have given up their own chance at divinity to help others, since they will become tools for the living.

The Blood of Vol cult is ruled from Atur by The Crimson Covenant.

At the age of twelve, Hidan showed signs of possessing magical abilities, which catched the interest of the Cult and welcomed him into the Crimson Monastery to train his powers in favor of their religion and ulterior plans.

Hidan had always been an avid follower of his faith, but soon after joining the Monastery he started to interpret it in his own terms.

His warlock status made him believe that his blood carried the divine will, and that his mission was to actively fight for the Divinity Within by converting all the misguided mortals to The Blood of Vol, or sending them to their deceiving gods to see for themselves how misguided they were.

The years passed and Hidan only grew more powerful and reckless, learning and crafting unique invocations to unleash his magic at its fullest potential.

His ever growing power mixed with his free interpretation of the beliefs of The Blood of Vol, marked him as an individual too independent and powerful to escalate in the ranks of the Cult.

In an attempt to channel his energy and give him a purpose, The Covenant prompted him to join the Order of the Emerald Claw, the paramilitary arm of the Blood of Vol, and sent him to Rekkenmark.

The Order of the Emerald Claw is an outlawed organization of Karrn patriots and Blood of Vol worshippers spread throughout Khorvaire. They continue to operate in a semi-terrorist fashion to this day, proclaiming their desire to see Karrnath once again rise to power.

Their connection to the Cult is only known by highest ranking members of the Order.

Hidan was sent to Rekkenmark, in the border with Thrane. His cell had the undercover mission to hunt down any paladin of the Church of the Silver Flame that entered Karrnath with the intention of killing Vol’s vampires and undeads.

The Blood of Vol is a forbidden religion in some regions of the continent due to the evil connotations associated with their practices, and many groups such as the Church of the Silver Flame actively works to destroy them.

His days as an Emerald Claw Knight were short, though.

At the beginning, Hidan thought that the Order was his rightful place, that surrounded by powerful patriots he will be able to bring the divine will to all the mortals and spread his faith to the edge of the world.

However, he soon started to feel disenchanted with how the Order handled their business and how little they cared about his divine will. He realised that like in the Monastery, the Order also lacked of determination, and so he began to make their creed his and reform it by his own standards.

The time passed and Hidan grew more reckless and discarded his superior’s orders more frequently, which caused friction within his cell.

By recommendation of The Covenant, when the situation became unsustainable, The Emerald Claw “prompted” him to take his own path and fight for the Order by himself in his own terms, far away from Rekkenmark.

Instead of going back to Atur, Hidan decided to travel the world, free from any restraints, finding misguided mortals to convert to the Blood of Vol and killing all those who didn’t want to achieve immortality.

Unsurprisingly for everyone but himself, his homicidal activities granted him the status of “kill in sight” in many cities, and soon the bounty for his head was high enough to buy a villa in the upper levels of Sharn.

So Hidan, a powerful warlock and Seeker, spent the following years running away from the law and inquisitors of every city he stepped on. He never bothered to hide his presence anyway...

After a near death experience with a Flame paladin in Sigilstar, he traveled to Sharn, where he knew he could hide from prying eyes and find refuge in one of the Order’s liars.

However, The Emerald Claw rejected to host him as he attracted too much attention, forcing him to hide in the lowest levels of the city, where he was told that there was a unofficially Vol-friendly tavern run by elves.

Little did he know, that in the Callestan district lived one of the most renowned bounty hunters of Sharn, who was currently drinking a pint in the same tavern he choose to spend the night in.

Kakuzu the bounty hunter

Kakuzu was born in the port city of Zarash’ak, in The Shaodw Marshes.

His father was a human from House Vadalis (beast tamers), while his mother was a human with a quarter of orc blood from House Tharashk with the Mark of Finding (bounty hunters).

He was raised within the Tharashk House and learned how to bounty hunt from a young age. Even though his training was focused on the ways of his mother’s House, he enjoyed spending time with his father and help him train and sell his imported beasts from the Eldeen Reaches.

Kakuzu spent his childhood proudly working for House Tharashk, dreaming of becoming a renowned bounty hunter and awakening a powerful Mark of Finding. However, his dreams would sunk when at the age of seventeen he finally manifested his dragonmark.

It was an aberrant dragonmark.

The dragonmarks are passed through bloodlines and when two members of different dragonmarked families reproduce it often results in aberrant dragonmarks. Originally aberrant marked were seen as outcasts and outsiders, often shunned by the houses and eked out a pitiful existence. Now they unite under their own House, House Tarkanan.

Kakuzu tried to hide his new mark, constantly covering his body as much as he could and not getting intimately close to anyone for fear of being discovered and casted aside. His mood soured in a couple of months, and he ostracised himself from his closest friends and family.

But after a couple of years it had grown up so much that it almost took his entire back, and inevitably the House found out about his condition and expelled him from the clan.

Abandoned by his people, he traveled to Sharn in an attempt to join the Aberrant Dragonmarked House Tarkanan.

House Tarkanan is a house only formed by aberrant markeds, from any race and clan. They are usually bounty hunters, mercenaries and accountants.

When House Tarkanan first established itself in Sharn, the halfling Boromar Clan attempted to assimilate them, but the offer was turned down. This resulted in the Boromars attempting to destroy the House. When this proved too difficult a deal was struck. Since the Boromar clan doesn't traffic in assassinations, it was agreed that so long as House Tarkanan doesn't take contracts against the Boromars, they would be permitted to stay in Sharn without paying a fee.

Despite being shunned away by his family and now working as a bounty hunter for a bunch of criminals, Kakuzu found his place in Sharn. He also worked as an accountant for the clan from time to time, a nice changes of winds from his usual, dirtier, business.

He made himself a name in Sharn, and over the years was granted the title of Baron, as a senior assassin of the Clan. Kakuzu was well known in the city, especially in the districts of Lower Dura.

He established his residence in the lawless district of Callestan mainly because the rent was cheaper, but also because his best informants also maraud those streets, inns and ateliers.

Kakuzu is a baron of House Tarkanan, and his main income comes from the clan’s dealings. However, he takes freelance work if the pay is good enough, and he usually doubles his fees if the contract is from his former House.

House Tharashk, despite expelling Kakuzu many years ago, is often interested in hiring his services in the big city, since bounty hunters that are not from House Tarkanan or the Boromar Clan are not allowed to make business freely even after paying a bountiful fee.

House Tharashk has deals and a close relationship with House Thuranni. The elven house team with them whenever they need to find artifacts or people, in exchange for influences and intel. They are currently working together with the Emerald Claw in Stormreach (Xen’dirk), seeking ancient artifacts for Lady Vol.

House Thuranni is involved in many dubious affairs and unofficially allied with many organisations, such as the Blood of Vol and the Emerald Claw. The Thuranni fought alongside Karrnath during the War, and they have an important presence in Atur with their True Shapers academy.

These unofficial affairs turn every Thuranni establishment into a safehouse for those allies who need refuge or a meeting point.

So Kakuzu visits The Shadowkeeper tavern whenever the Tharashk need something from him, to catch up with his informants, or just to drink a large pint.

...though cashing in a good bounty for a dumb Seeker, is also interesting.

-------------

We have 6 out of 8 members of the party!! yeyyy!!! now i need to finish the other two ;)

#naruto #akatsuki #hidan #kakuzu #au! akatsuki d&d #d&d #Dungeons and Dragons #eberron #my art #there's only 2 more left to go!!!!!#now i need to update the info in the WA page and also the map #anyway! check the other two posts too bc their lore is connected in some characters and you may understand them better #i know this is A LOT of lore to read hahaha but i hope you find it interesting #i tried to stick with the canon as much as i could and build their backstories and characters based on the canon material #some things are homebrew but most of it is canon so that's pretty cool for an au :DDDD #hidan is always like: why nobody wants to join the BoV? why is everyone prosecuting me? i have never been wrong in my life #kakuzu is done with life in general #also! kakuzu doesn't like itachi bc he's a thuranni and thuranni are allies with the tharashk #itachi doesn't like him bc he's an aberrant marked and he has prejudices against him which is not nice #itachi helps in the tavern when he's not assassinating people for his House. but he really doesn't work there #sasori and kakuzu exchange intel very often. both visit the tavern almost daily and gossip about everything #first sasori only went bc of the intel. now he has extended rants with deidara about art and their academies and how much they actually suck #deidara lives in the garret so now he's neighbours with hidan who rented a tiny cheap room #kisame's there too. he has an orc sized room for him and his tiny orclet. so he's their neighbour too #now there's only konan and nagato left!! and if you haven't noticed. there's a bit of foreshadowing in hidan's story ;)#i hope you like their designs and lore!! and tysm for reading all this text xD i know it's long but i really enjoy sharing it with you!#and as always if you have any question just send me an ask!

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

saving grace | 4

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 6.2k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

isabelle armwell is not present.

naturally so, showing up here would only intensify the naturally main topic of the conversation today - baron armwell’s heinous crimes that’d come to light after his daughter came up and confessed everything to the authorities. some days after your visit to the royal palace, you’d invited isabelle to shop for the dress you’d be wearing for the engagement party.

it wouldn’t look suspicious if you take more time than necessary in the fitting room. somewhere in the corner of your heart, you cursed yourself for becoming exactly like the ladies you claim repulsed you. and yet with a smile on your face, you wave to isabelle before stepping through the room, leaving her alone to wait for you.

but by the time you came out, she was already gone. the staff recounted the disheveled condition she’d left in after having a chat with a customer who’d left without buying anything.

“she must have felt sick after that and decided to leave immediately,” the manager, who wasn’t there to witness it because she was helping you change, deduces.

“perhaps,” not allowing your conflicted feelings show, you agreed with a pitiful smile and excused yourself for the day, saying you’re far too worried about your friend to pick a dress today.

a week after that, baron armwell had been arrested for not only theft but further investigation showed that he’d been involved with tax evasion, bribery and so much more that the same exact people who are criticizing the barn, are doing behind closed doors.

“can you believe how brave lady isabelle had to be to confess to her father’s crimes?” irene’s striking emerald eyes matches the ribbon tied around her light brown curls as well as her unconstrained envy for ranks.

there are only two noble ladies from a baron family, namely her and isabelle that are active in social gatherings as of late. while she praises irene, she also laughs at the situation the blonde woman is facing.

“you’ve always been close with isabelle, lady ___, did you know?” krystal’s cat-like stare searches for a fault in your response but unlike when you’re with a certain crimson eyed man, you manage to smooth out your expression into a regretful smile.

“did we seem so?” a hand clasps over your lips, “i wish we were close enough for her to confide her problems with me but, alas, she’d be suffering on her own this whole time.”

and with that, the silence lapses between you and the two ladies while the round of hooves against the ground and wheels rolling echoes from the front. the guests are still pouring in and yoongi, having been swamped with the additional charges against baron armwell, has been cooped up inside his office. you wonder if he’ll manage to show up at all.

“m-my, lady ___, you’re so kind to worry about lady isabelle even on the brink of your engagement party.” irene tries again, the angle of her smile now positioned awkwardly after you declared your support for isabelle.

after her disappearance, you’d sent her two letters. one, inquiring her of her well being as a friend - an undeserving one at that. the other one being the invitation of your garden party three days apart. her written reply, as expected, appeared as if nothing was wrong but the news blew up in a matter of hours after the winter knights bearing the crown’s warrant began pouring into the armwell residence and their warehouses.

“who would have thought lady ___ would harbor such amicable feelings for the daughter of baron armwell?” the smile that adorns krystal’s face doesn’t match her icy stare.

perhaps it’s the emphasis of isabelle being baron armwell, a loyal supporter of the aristocrat faction - it’s much easier to persuade a family of the royal faction than the noble’s even though the odds are lower than when the crown was succeeded peacefully. or perhaps it’s the due reminder that she, a marquis’ daughter, still ranks higher than you, a mere count’s daughter regardless of who your future marriage prospect is.

whatever it is, it doesn’t seem like she’s acting as part of seokjin’s vassal, “i think it’s important to separate emotions from business matters. the matter of the which side the armwells are on and whether isabelle deserves the credit for stepping up and confessing to her father’s crimes are entirely different matters.”

the woman’s cat-like gaze remains impassive, “but i suppose i don’t need a trip to the optometrist to see that one wears her loyalty like clothes these days.”

the silence that lapses after you’ve finished your words is presses down on your throat with its invisible hands. irene’s paling complexion, as she looks between you and krystal, is enough enough to tell you that the elephant might be bigger than you thought it’d be.

“lady ___, you look as splendid as the roses that bloom in the duke’s garden.” count henry approaches, only bowing in greeting after having praise you with his famous empty words. he’s the only few young nobles who’s succeeded the title from his father.

“thank you, count henry, but the credit goes to the gardener and his grace - i’d only started admiring them just recently myself,” you gladly welcome the new comer, turning your full attention to him.

“oh yes, as the future lady of the house, are you going to make changes to the garden and hold more gatherings? i’d be the most blessed man on earth if i could see you - i men the roses in their full bloom next year as well,” his dream like eyes widens with excitement while not failing to compliment you.

“thank you, you’re very generous with your praises, marquis,” is all you force out, unwilling to go down this praise littered path any longer than you should.

as though the planets and the stars align, whispers begin to spread among the guests. some gazes at something behind you with the same stars that shines its luck on you, some observing the object of fascination with care.

“___, apologies for arriving late to our own garden party,” yoongi’s uncharacteristically suave smile enters your view whilst you slip your hand in the one he has extended midair.

“don’t worry, you’re just in time,” at the sight of his crimson eyes watching you through this lashes as he presses his lips to your gloved knuckles, you can’t help but replay the events that transpired within the closed door of your mother’s parlor.

it was nothing and everything you’d imagined a proposal from yoongi could be. whilst the extravagance of best tailored dresses and perfectly cut diamonds were taking up every possible space in the main parlor, yoongi had pulled out a simple cerulean diamond encrusted ring and slipped it on your finger, kissing it right after - a seal of promise to love and to cherish.

you didn’t need to ask to know that it was a perfectly cut piece from the siren’s heart. its much larger counterpart being showcased somewhere in the main parlor.

“i-i see,” your voice shook and your cheeks felt like summer came early and for some reason, yoongi let out a brieft chuckle before he slipped a hand underneath yours and kissed it, murmuring, “you’re not against it and that’s good enough for now.”

“looks like i’ve missed the fun,” the breath that fans the shell of your skin brings you out of your thoughts as he whispers lowly, eyes boring into yours instead of taking notice of the peering gazes.

having spent most of his time winning wars, yoongi’s never truly attended any social gatherings. this would be his first in a long time and yet he’s already caught onto the shimmering heat that hangs over the air after your and krystal’s conversation.

but more than that, you’ve only ever seen him in dark colors with unmanageable hair that brushes against the top of his eyebrows and sometimes almost serves to hide his eyes if he’d just lowered his head. but today, his hair is sleeked back and he’s decked in a pristine white suit and deep crimson undershirt that highlights his eyes as well as the dragons and silver shield engraved in the back of the cape that’s attached to his shoulders and flows down until inches from his ankles.

“there’s more where that came from,” you offhandedly remark, concealing a small sigh at the thought of the draining battle that will ensue.

“greetings your grace, i’m henry from the house of lau. it’s an honor to make your acquaintance.” the easy smile that slips onto henry’s features tells you he’s shifted from being a lecherous casanova to a diplomatic marquis.

“marquis henry,” yoongi acknowledges, his hand snaking around your waist and pulling you closer until your back presses against his front, “i saw you, lady irene and lady krystal keeping my fiance company, thank you.”

the young marquis’ flinch is skillfully hid by his smooth chuckle, muttering a generic recount of the conversation about the roses before offering to walk with the other two ladies, leaving you alone with yoongi.

“h-how much did you hear?” the schooled smile on your face wavers as you avoid the duke’s naturally intense gaze.

“enough to know i won’t be having any problems buying the whole of the lau family’s mines,” the charming smile on his devastatingly handsome features is tinted with a sure promise as the hand on your lower back pulls you closer, your chests almost brushing.

forcing out a chuckle, you calmly placate, “but wouldn’t that be counterproductive since seokjin affirmed that he’s part of his majesty’s faction?”

“i’ll find someone to replace him,” he cocks his head to the side, eyes disappearing behind his lashes as his smile stretches wider.

“i see,” your shoulder line falls as you mentally bid good luck to henry before catching sight of a group of noblewomen and men huddled together adjacent to you with fans hiding their faces whilst they steal glances your way.

“your grace,” with and hand on yoongi’s chest and heated cheeks, you light push him only for him to raise an inquisitive eyebrow, “people are watching.”

but when his lips curl into a smirk, the beating organ encased within your chest drops to the ground, “and?”

before a series of protests manages to leave your lips, you find yourself staring into a pair of molten rubies before your eyes flutter shut as a familiar pair of lips lands on your forehead. your hand balls into a fist in front of your chest, trying to suppress your palpitating heart as the seconds stretch on and everything begins to fade into white noise.

...until the sound of someone clearing their throat brings you back to the canopy filled garden. “master. madam. all the guests have arrived.”

“alright, thank you jackson,” yoongi nods at the butler as though he didn’t just exhibited an act of affection that should have been shared between only the two of you privately.

you dread the forthcoming headache that’ll be knocking on your temples at the thought of rumors of the nature of you and yoongi’s relationship, spreading like wildfire.

“madam...” the butler trails off, head lowered at you as though pleading for something, “the master doesn’t like drawing attention to himself even though it is the min residence that the party is held at...”

“you don’t say,” side eyeing man in question that, out of all times, happen to be glancing at the sky, you doubt its sapphire hues are any more worth gazing than yesterday, “very well, i’ll announce the commencement of the party.”

“thank you, madam,” jackson dips briefly before walking away to stand with the valet and head maid a few feet away.

a soft breeze blows past the roofless area. though smaller compared to the garden in the palace, it’s still the size of half of your mention with its perfectly trimmed rose bed in the middle that’s half your height and makes up a maze where a fountain lies, rimmed with a deeper shade of rosebeds.

an even with the maze, at the heart of the garden, area between it and the mansion is still large enough to fit five tables with five chairs at each table scattered around the pavilion where you come to stand, hand around yoongi’s arms.

“ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. i hope you all enjoy yourselves today,” looking up to see those crimson eyes staring back at you, a smile slips onto your lips as you turn to the guests, “we trust his majesty has sent invitations to our engagement party to every family representative to those who are present and we hope to see you all there in a fortnight.”

the garden party drags on for hours with words as swords and superficial smiles as shields. as they get into the argument about seokjin’s rule, it isn’t hard to pick out the weeds that grow over the year after seokjin ascended the throne.

“to have completely disregard the nobles for a whole year, his majesty is a brave one.” count vernon’s lighthearted chuckle does not match his contemptuous remark.

“yes but, it’s not his majesty that we should be worried about, is it?” krystal’s question brings about a series of murmurs. of course, the question of your family’s stance must have been lingering on their minds even though your hosting and indulging the upcoming party should be answer enough.

“ah, i heard lady ___ and his majesty are quite close,” henry snaps his fingers, eyes shimmering with a recollection, “he used to summon you frequently back then, you know, before you and the duke got engaged. if you had any weakness, it’d be your beauty for having caught both the eyes of his majesty and the duke at the same time.”

at that, all eyes turn to you though some narrow their eyes at the marquis’ cheap tricks. suppressing the bile rising from your throat, you fix the beaming man with your own smile, “as you know, his majesty had just ascended the throne and asked for house ___’s advice on the matters at hand. my father was originally supposed to go but since the drought, he’s been required to ride to our estate and help the people there so i took over his job for him.”

glancing at the silver haired man whose lips twitch with humor at your feigned smile, “as for yoongi, when we met, it was like first love!”

whilst most of the ladies who are likely part of seokjin’s faction swoons at the way yoongi returns your smile. you barely notice the question thrown by one of the ladies to yoongi, “how was it for your grace when you met lady ___?”

a playful glint shines in his eyes as he chuckles, “when we first met, i remember thinking ‘this isn’t really happening, right?’” though those words hold a completely different meaning, the guests doesn’t seem to think it anything less than a romantic love-at-first sight kind of scenario as they murmur to each other and lament about their own first encounter with their partners. those who aren’t yet married or announced their relationship sending their wishes to the goddess to grant them something akin to your love story.

“your grace,” count jimin’s voice cuts through the air and silencing the crowd, striking hazel eyes boring into the silver haired man’s, “do you not feel betrayed? after coming home and bringing victory to king who severed the head of the one you sworn to serve?”

a pause lapses over the table as the question hangs in the air like a dark cloud. most of the nobles have reverted their gaze from you and yoongi as though looking at him would have caused their lives. you don’t have to crane your neck to know how piercing those deep rubies are.

“home,” a gravelly voice scoffs, “when i came back from the war, all i could hear was the people on the streets talking about how the cuts that were visible on my body could’ve been deeper so i’d die. how my cursed bloodline would doom the kingdom.” the man leans his elbow on the armrest, cheek leaned against his knuckles as his gaze fleets over the count, “it’s the same whoever i serve but at least the current king has improved the lives of the people by a large scale compared to that dim-witted uncle of mine and the rest of his supporters that roll around in the money they got from forcing such high rate taxes over their people.”

count jimin’s dry laugh echoes around the table, “those are serious accusations, i hope you have proof to support them, your grace, otherwise it’d be considered slander to all the noble houses present.”

“indeed it would be a grave insult,” you cover yoongi’s free hand that’s threatening to break the wooden structure of the armrest, relief flooding your system when it relaxes under your touch just the slightest bit whilst curious eyes peer at you, waiting on the edge of their seats for what you’re tying to get to, “only if it’s untrue. so how about a challenge for each house’s territory? his grace may conduct inspections on the park family’s territory and if his grace finds no fault in under the count’s rule, then the count will obtain the port to make up for the slander but if his grace’s words prove to be true, then the arable field belonging to the park family will go be part of the dukedom.”

“that’s ridiculous! his grace is the one who should present evidence before running his mouth.” the elder man’s face contorts with anger, nose flaring as he slams a hand on the table and sending his drink spilling over the fuchsia tablecloth.

you gesture for one of the maids to take away the spilled cup of tea before cocking your head to the side as though in deep thought, “count jimin, why are you getting mad? if what his grace says is a mere hoax, then you’ll be getting the iyesgarth port along with the rights to collect taxes... unless, you have something to hide?”

the maid returns with a new set of teacup, placing it in front of the silently trembling man and pouring newly brewed tea into it.

“i-i like lady ___’s suggestion,” lady irene’s timid voice warrants a turn of heads but despite the sudden attention, she still manages to deliver her reasoning, “both contribute significantly to the economy of the kingdom. if i’m being honest, the port is too good of a bargain to be given up easily.”

the stiff movements of several nobles as they stir their tea or reach for the delicacies laid out in front of them, is telling enough who they choose to push as their scapegoat.

“lady ___ didn’t you say to separate feelings from business matters? isn’t suggesting such challenge proves that you’re acting on your emotions because of count jimin’s rudeness?” you doubt that krystal’s question has anything to do with shifting the spotlight from the deathly silent count jimin than it does with challenging your judgement, “furthermore, you went ahead of yourself and didn’t ask for his grace’s take on this.”

you don’t miss the wide-eyed gazes coming from the nobles at the uncharacteristic chuckle that falls out of yoongi’s lips before he simply announces, “isn’t that a given? ___ and i are to be wed, consider whatever lady ___ say to be my own words from now on. i agree with giving up the port in the event that i’d baselessly besmirched the park family name.”

“f-fine, i agree to that arrangement.” count jimin finally declares, burning with pride and dignity that he’ll soon learn are fragile little things.

“great, the inspection will begin two days from now,” your lips curve, delighted at the conclusion of the ordeal, “it’s better to get this settled than drag this suffocating atmosphere to the engagement party, i would hate to have such a momentous day to be defiled with unsolved bad blood.”

the count opens his mouth as though the words of protest are a second away from falling off his tongue but after five solid seconds pass, the man clamps his lips shut and turns away. for the rest of the afternoon, nothing as strenuous as transpires.

those who attended are with their own reasons - whether to satisfy their own curiosity, to build connections or to simply witness for themselves the duke and future duchess’ stance in politics. either way, it concluded peacefully with the nobles from seokjin’s faction expressing their wish to see you more at parties and be invited to the ones you’ll hold in the future.

though you did not lift a finger, the duty to clean up naturally becomes yours as you oversee the process until the table clothes are folded, teacups and teapots stacked and delivered to the washing room whilst the tables and chairs are stored in the building separate from the main mansion.

yoongi disappeared as soon as the last five guests boarded their carriage. granted, there must have been a lot of paperwork and reports he’s supposed to get done. you wonder how he’s managed to squeeze you in his busy schedule when you barely knew each other.

the hand that hovers inches from the door to his office freezes at the deep voice that flows from the gap between the doors, “you don’t have to knock.”

“so it’s true that you have heightened hearing,” pushing the door open and stepping through it, you assert.

“it gets annoying sometimes, especially when i wake to the sound of the servants shuffling somewhere in the-.” the man hums in affirmation as he leans back. his usually towering frame appearing miniature surrounded by stacks of paper on both sides of his desk, the space in the middle being reserved for him to write on, “-not there.”

with lift eyebrows you meet the man’s crimson gaze, questioning why he suddenly stopped talking and how he has the nerve to forbid you from taking a seat on one of the sets of sofas in the middle of his office. whatever expression you must be making must have been the reason for his sudden retraction, “i mean, could you please come here?”

there isn’t any chair anywhere near his table but you get up anyway, heels clicking against the wooden flooring before stopping in front of him only to have man’s brows furrow with conflict. so you walk the extra distance around his table, your own features flashing is confusion,“why are you-”

but before you can even get the whole question out, a yelp escapes your mouth as the fingers that curl around your wrist yanks you forward. your fall into his lap may have been unceremonious as you reach out to grasp onto something for stability and that something just so happen to be his well built shoulders but he doesn’t seem to care. the muscles ripple underneath your touch as he hoist you closer as to not let you fall off sideways.

the heat spreads all over your body like poisonous smoke, sending your heart lurching into your throat as you bare yourself in those deep crimson eyes yet for some reason, you manage to push out a barely stable vocal, “i hardly think this is an appropriate position to be caught in.”

“the servants know not to bother me when i’m working.” the sight of his lips curling into a teasing smile now feels familiar, like the alleviated feeling of coming home after spending weeks at the capital for a mere ball.

“then i shouldn’t bother you either.”

“you’re allowed to. i give you my permission.”

“thank you, i’m honored.” you’ve only realize now that the chuckle from the garden party and now are no different. except the quietness just after the fall of the sun allows you to pick up on the adoration that wraps around his voice.

letting out a soft sigh, you suppose you don’t entirely dislike being held like a child like this.

“by the way, you didn’t have to go as far as gifting me a whole fertile land.” he says after the traces of humor disappear into the air but the lightness of the atmosphere engulfs you like a blanket.

preparations for the inspection has been commenced, the day after tomorrow, yoongi will ride with his men and arrive some time in the evening at count park’s territory with the help of a magical shortcut maintained by the wizard guild which are of close relations with the min family. despite the two day window, you’ve already got the necessary information about almost all the nobles’ activities, including count park’s. all yoongi needs to do is move in the direction you point: the missing daughter of a recently deceased baron that owned 1/8 of the land at stake as well as the territory’s reputation for the highest death rate ever recorded in the kingdom.

“shush,” you wave a dismissive hand - the same hand that bears a deep red diamond on its ring finger, “that’s the least i could do after you gave me the siren’s heart.”

“you should have picked some of the necklaces and bracelets as well,” he means from the boxes and boxes filled with sparkling jewelry that he sent along with the siren’s heart.

your mother had no qualms salivating over each content of the box until you instruct for whitlace’s representative to take it back, saying ‘i’ll explain to the duke’ when the man’s face pales at the lack of jewelry picked.

“i already have plenty,” you announce. having already explained your reason for declining such lucrative gifts - most of them decrease in value over the years unless it’s rare gems or gold or private property.

“that won’t do,” his ungloved fingerpads feel callous against your skin yet comforting as he traces it over the diamond encrusted ring, “what if i’m called stingy because my duchess isn’t wearing any accessories?”

“whoever that is must have a lot of time on their hand.”

“shall we acquire the territory of anyone who speaks ill of the duchess of cralon?”

at that, you burst out laughing. perhaps, it’s the way he proposes such idea - as though it’s as easy as stealing candy from a child. perhaps, it’s the underlying promise to go through such deeds if someone dares to insult you. perhaps it’s the delicate crimson gaze that’s looking at you as though he wants to take this moment and frame it in his memories.

the faintest of smile makes its way to yoongi’s lips as he leans into your palm - his skin is as soft as it appears to be. you fear it’ll end up bruising under your touch. his own hand slips under your hand, callous fingers tracing your jawline. just like moth drawn to flame, you find yourself leaning down, eyes glazing over the pink lips but before you even manage to have a taste of sweet sacrilege, the the sound of the door swinging open echoes throughout the room.

“master,” jackson’s bows briefly, a tray of letter in one hand, “the countess sent a letter to the madam.”

“i-i see, is the carriage here?” you make an attempt to hop off the man, smile pointing in an awkward angle before realizing the tightened grip around your waist.

yoongi meets your hard stare nonchalantly, even having the nerve to raise an inquisitive eyebrow as to why you’re moving away until he relents, a sigh escaping his lips before his arms fall away from you.

“that... the countess sent the letter through a maid,” the butler stops in front of the desk, dark brown eyes fleeting over to the fireplace and then the shadows that its makes and then his polished shoes - anywhere except your eyes.

since you’ve sent one of yoongi’s footmen to notify your family coachman a few hours ago, you figured that’s how the letter was delivered. yet you don’t pry, butlers are often put in difficult positions due to their masters, “thank you, jackson,”

with that, you go to stand directly in front of the window for better lighting to read your mother’s undoubted cursive writing whilst trying your hardest to ignore the heat of yoongi’s body as he not-so-secretly reads over your shoulder.

dear daughter, i sent felix to run some errands. he won’t be available until tomorrow noon. i’m afraid you’ll have to spend the night at the duke residence. but fret not, i sent the leslie to help you with anything you need. plus, she’ll have to familiarize herself with the mansion once you get married anyway!

the ghost of a delighted laugh that belongs to your mother rings in your ear as your mind conjures a picture of her sitting at the maple desk gifted by your father some years ago, a plotting smile on her lips.

“jackson,” yoongi voice drums a second after your eyes fleet across the exclamation mark, “prepare a room for ___, looks like the coachman of the ___ family can’t come.”

“th-that won’t be necessary,” with a hand on the duke’s chest to capture his attention and prevent him from making any rash decisions, you quickly say, “i think leslie might’ve come with the sevant’s carriage.”

“miss leslie came by foot.” jackson informs.

“th-then the min house’s carriage...” you trail off with the last ray of hope only to catch the butler’s eyes glazing over something behind you before breaking into cold sweat.

“d-dylan has caught a cold so i sent him home for the night.”

twirling on your heels, the ominous stare that does a 180 into an uncharacteristically innocent smile does not go past you. the stare down seems to stretch on for hours, you with your stern gaze and yoongi with his unrelenting smile, until you find yourself letting out a sigh, eyes averting to the writings on the paper scattered on his desk out of the sheer need to not get swayed any further than you already are.

“very well, thank you for ha-”

at the words of affirmation to stay, yoongi speaks over you hurriedly as though stamping a seal to a deal and rendering you unable to backtrack and come up with a new idea on how to get home, “jackson, prepare my mother’s room.”

his late mother’s room would mean the predecessors of the duchy. you’d eventually have to move into the late duchess’ room as yoongi did with the late duke’s room but you’re not yet married and nothing close to having the title of duchess-

“yoongi, perhaps an ordinary guest room-”

“it’s either that,” his breath fans your ears as he leans dangerously close to your face, “or my room. your pick, my lady.”

the heat comes back full force, like flames burning your entire body and sending your heart palpitating wildly in your chest. with one step backwards and a robotic twirl towards the door, you announce, “jackson, please show my the way to the late duchess’ room,” as the silhouette of the man clasping a hand over his mouth as muted chuckles fill the air before you walk through the door pulls on your heartstrings.

the duchess’ room had been decorated with muted but calming tones. pristine white furniture complements the dusty peach walls and chandeliers that hung in the ceiling like diamonds. the bed, encased by a material like fine satin in the shade of pink but considerably lighter than the fuschia skies at dawn, could have been jackson’s choosing. but the interior designs couldn’t have been easily altered from its previous dweller’s touch. it was only three months ago that you’d met yoongi, and it’d take more than one or two months to get a renovation done even if yoongi wanted to surprise you with your new room.

it was a complete contrast to the darker interior of the mansion that sought a more sophisticated design with minimally furnished rooms and garnet curtains that were drawn apart to let sunlight pour over the wooden flooring and creme colored walls.

even if yoongi is the master of the mansion, you couldn’t sense a touch of him within those walls. it was almost as though he was but a ghost that resided mostly in the studies book shelves took up the entire walls on both sides adjacent to the door. and even with all that space to himself, the space between deep brown settee sets perched in the middle of room and his desk had painted an invisible line between him and the whole mansion. as though his only space was somewhere behind the desk and the spot where the sunlight poured graciously behind him.

and as you stared into the darkness after the lights were turned off, you wondered if yoongi had ever felt the warmth of a home. all of a sudden, a sense of emptiness crept into the crevices of your heart at the thought of having all the luxuries and adoration one could ever ask for but at the end of the day, coming back to long winded hallways and beckoning shadows.

so when he’d walked into the dining room that morning, you’d hoped he’d at least remember breakfast with you to be more than just deep garnet curtains, long table and empty chairs.

the vapor hovering of your teacup dissipates with the softest gush of wind but your main concern is the hem of your skirt fluttering around your ankle, almost threatening to send you flying.

your lips draw into a frown as your eyes flutter, prettily made hair starting to turn unruly.

“you have the worst luck with winds, ___.” when the gush ceases, you find yourself studying the towering figure that’s pulling the chair across from you to your side, his knee bumping into yours when he takes a seat. the swaying blades of grass and leaves surrounding the pavilion does not go unnoticed by you.

“yoongi,” the name tastes like your favorite candy on your tongue, “i thought it’s a perfect day to have breakfast outdoors.”

his damp hair appears a deep shade grey, fringes that would usually brush over eyebrows now almost concealing his crimson eyes. he’s donned in his black and yellow uniform, possibly to report his departure to count jimin’s territory to seokjin.

“i’m not saying i dislike this though,” he brings the teacup filled by jackson at his arrival, to his curving lips.

at that, you can’t help but let your own smile slip onto your lips, “i slept well last night.”

a flash of something you can’t pinpoint crosses those crimson eyes, “as you should. everything in that room will be yours - no, they already are.”

“if you keep saying that i might be inclined to give you another piece of land,” you pop a miniature cheese tart into your mouth, the sheer sweet and creamy taste melding together on your tongue.

“and i thought it was just me who’d want to spoil you with all the luxuries in the world.” the faint smile seems more apparent under the sunlight as his pink lips take on a lighter shade whilst last night’s events flood your memory like a broken tap-

“can’t i go with you?” the question tumbles out of your mouth much sooner than you plan it. but if you’re talking about planing, you were definitely envisioning asserting yourself as part of his inspection team.

“that’ll shift the suspicion to you if you’re seen aiding me,” his crimson eyes almost appear pink when they glaze over you, “they might even go as far as saying everything was planned out from the beginning by the duke and future duchess.”

“i know you were going to say that,” you lean back against the chair, shoulder line sagging at the dead weight of having to survive without yoongi for at least five days until he returns. and as you know many things, you both see his success in proving count jimin’s unspeakable deeds.

breakfast goes on with reminders of the key vassals yoongi is supposed to look for. count jimin may have owned a majority of the land but not the entire granary. there are two other nobles who are in charge of overseeing the work put into sowing and harvesting the crops but one had passed away last summer and his only son had been missing since while the other hasn’t appeared in public for a whole year. despite the rising death rates among the villagers, it could have easily been brushed off as a natural cause - it always had to be some tragedy falling upon someone of noble blood to allow for such inspections. otherwise, the opposing factions would band together in a circle just to protect their own.

but when an unsuspecting inspection is made in the name of one’s honor, not many dare to challenge its grounds. as though one’s title is worth more than the increasing rate of lives lost under the count’s reign.

“well, i suppose i have things to settle myself,” you murmur mindlessly before taking a sip of the green tea you asked leslie to prepare.

a chuckle escapes your lips when the duke doesn’t say anything yet lulls his head to the side in wonder.

“i think i found a bride candidate for seokjin.” you confess.

“a bride, you say?” yoongi blinks, those crimson eyes piercing with confusion.

“for now, i don’t have enough information to be sure but lady krystal is the person i have in mind.” when the man continues to stare, as though expecting you to at least mention which house krystal belonged to, you can’t help but let bubbles of laughter trickle from your lips. “she’s the one with stunning cat-like eyes and light brown hair from yesterday.”

“did she not try to challenge you openly?” the twitch in yoongi’s eye is enough to tell you he’s bothered by your decision but not as against it as he should be because he trusts your judgement.

“rather than that...” the image of krystal’s indifferent gaze burns at the back of your mind, “she stands on her own and doesn’t sputter out empty praises just to get on my good side. she’s also ambitious and far from a pushover.”

it is a second later, after what seems like a deep mull, that yoongi allows his free hand to ruffle the back of his head as a sigh leaves his lips, “if you say so, then i believe you.”

the sight is almost endearing if not for the effects he has on your heart, yet you till manage to chuckle to yourself over the irony of the circumstances, “have i ever been wrong?”

note. and there goes another chapter for saving grace! hope you guys enjoyed it!!

taglist. @ayujmi @fanfuckingfic @deathkat657

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squirrel-moose-winchester · 4 years

Text

Rings

Title: Rings

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1957

Square Filled: Fake Marriage

Summary: “What happens when the right guy comes along, see’s that ring, and high tails it out here?” – “I never thought about that. I guess, if he’s the right one, he’d stick around long enough to find out that the ring is a fake.”

Warnings: Fluff, Dash of Angst, Douche Bags, Rifle, Threats, Drunk Guys, Gross Guys, Some Explicit Language, and Lying…

Written for @spndeanbingo

Disclaimer: Not my gif.

A/N: I am really proud of this fic. I feel like it’s not exactly what you’d expect from the Fake Marriage trope. At least, that’s what I think. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! This last fic concludes my SPN Dean Bingo 2019 Card! I made it just in time!! Happy Reading!! xx

The day had been a total shit show, and all you wanted to do was to have a seat at a bar, have someone else make your drinks, and get hammered! Was that too much to ask? Apparently it was. You’d only been in the, over twenty-one, establishment for merely ten minutes and there had already been one guy that had the nerve to interrupt your “me time,” and now thirty minutes in, another dumbass was trying to talk you up.

“Hey there good lookin’. You seem a little stressed. Can I buy you another drink?”

“Sorry pal, I just want to be alone,” you told him, not bothering to give him a second glance (not that you gave him a first one.)

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t be shy, let me just one drink?” He persisted.

“Seriously, I’m good right now,” you tried to remain calm.

“Alright, but if you change your mind, my friends and I are sitting by the juke box. Feel free to join us at any time,” he whispered, as if he thought he was being seductive. It was quite the opposite. His breath was rancid, and the stench coming off of him was just as criminal. You wondered how he could live with himself smelling like roadkill!

“Thanks,” was your only reply, letting out a heavy sigh when he left.

“Some guys just can’t take a hint,” the bartender tsked, her hands placed on the bar top in front of you. You looked up to meet the older lady looking past you, most likely at the group of guys that pig was hanging around with. “Mmm,” she hummed, a look of disgust in her face, “those fellas are one repulsive bunch aren’t they?”

A small smile cracked on your lips, glad that someone was on your side, not that anyone was against you to begin with, but still… this woman just made you feel a little better and you appreciated it.

“You didn’t smell him…” you murmured, slightly shaking your head side to side with trauma.

The older woman laughed. “The name is Ellen. I’m the owner of this bar.”

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come in hear before,” the older woman stated. “And if you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look like the type to come into dive bars. What happened?”

Letting out a defeated sigh, you met her chocolate brown eyes. “Figured going to a bar was a thing to do when shit hits the fan and you just want to drink it all away. I mean, I see it happen all the time in the movies, so I thought… why not? There’s a first time for everything. The only thing that’s different is that the main character in the movies don’t have to deal with drunk gross guys. The girl usually meets that cool mysterious strangers in a suit or leather jacket.”

Ellen laughed at your perception on bars. “Sweetheart, real life ain’t like the movies. Real life actually sucks. So… I have to asked,” she started, “why are you here instead of with your man?”

You looked up at her confused. “Man?”

“The ring. Your husband,” Ellen clarified.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Oh… that.”

“Yeah, that. What’s the deal? You don’t seem very happy.”

“Honestly, I don’t have a husband. I got out of a nasty relationship a while back and have sworn off men for the time being,” you confessed. “This is fake ring I bought off of Amazon. I wear it to ward off guys, which apparently doesn’t work on idiots.”

“What happens when the right guy comes along, see’s that ring, and high tails it out here?” Ellen question, the notion not once crossing your mind.

“I never thought about that. I guess, if he’s the right one, he’d stick around long enough to find out that the ring is a fake,” you shrugged, hoping your answer made enough sense to her, and you.

“Well, I wish you good luck kiddo,” Ellen smiled before having to help another customer.

Through the night, you got to know more about Ellen and the bar. The bar had been her late husband’s dream, but he unfortunately passed before he could even begin to see it’s possibility. In tribute and remembrance of the love of her life, she bought the bar, fixed it up, threw their name in front of it, “Harvelle’s”, in blinking lights, and eventually it also became her dream. She and her daughter ran the joint, along with a few employees.

You were working on your third drink of the night, trading in your whiskey for a fruity cocktail drink this time – a strawberry daiquiri. Honestly. You were a little surprised that a small town dive bar had it on the menu, but you didn’t spend too much time thinking about it. You just wanted to enjoy the slight buzz you were feeling.

As you sipped your cocktail, a large figure planted themselves beside your left, but you didn’t bother to acknowledge their presence. All you hoped was that whoever it was, would leave you alone. The only company worthy of your attention was Ellen, your new found friend.

“Hi, what’s your name?”

You rolled your eyes at the interruption. “Sorry, I’m married,” you lifted your hand, exposing the evident ring on your finger.

“I don’t mind,” his hand closed over yours.

At that moment, you snapped, snatching your hand from his grasp and shooting him a death glare. “What kind of woman do you take me for?” You asked with offense. The man next to you was burly, with a beard like a homeless man, shirt wrinkled and most likely unwashed, and his hair was greasy. Why did you always attract the uncivilized ones?

“The kind of woman that likes to have fun,” he wiggled his eyebrows, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Please, just leave me alone,” you told him, bringing your attention back to your drink.

“Oh, c’mon. Let me show you a good time. You might be surprised at how much you’ll like it… and I know you’ll really like it,” he cooed, his tone over suggestive.

“Seriously, back—”

Before you could finish, another man showed up. “Didn’t you hear the woman say she’s married?” The new stranger hissed, slamming his left hand down on the bar top, a gold band around his ring finger. “Now, I suggest you back off of my wife before you get yourself hurt.”

You were shocked to say the least. This stranger was different than all the men you’ve come across the whole day. From your pig of a boss, to the scumbags littering the bar, this man was something else. He was dangerously handsome, scruff littering his jaw, emerald eyes hard and demanding, and god… he smelled good… and looked good. His expansive chest and shoulders clad in red plaid, which was definitely his color.

Wow.

“You think I’m afraid of you?” The disgusting man barked, standing to his full height. He was much larger than the handsome stranger, who didn’t seem to be scared at all. “You think a small fella like you can take me?”

It was true. The guy was much bigger than Mr. Smell’s so Delicious. He towered him several inches.

“I’ve taken down bigger,” Mr. Gorgeous Green Eyes scoffed unfazed.

The gross guy took a step forward and Sex God in Plaid didn’t flinch one bit. If you were being honest with yourself, you found yourself getting a little turned on.

“Alright, cut the crap,” Ellen came barreling in, a rifle in hand. “This is my bar and I will not condone to any sort of rough housing.” The asshole took a step back, but your Knight in Shining Armor didn’t seem at all worried. “You…” Ellen’s spoke to the creep, “… you and your buddies has harassed this poor girl long enough. Pay your bill and get out, before I shoot every single one of you between the legs. Her husband is here and she no longer needs your company.”

The beautiful stranger draped his arm over your shoulder protectively, staring down the creeper. “You heard the nice the lady, get out!” He growled.

The man didn’t hesitate to hightail it back to his group of friends. You watched as they quickly pulled out several bills before rushing out of the establishment. Your jaw dropped in surprise, thoroughly impressed at how both Ellen and Mysterious Perfection handled the situation.

“You alright?” the deepness of his voice vibrated through your body, causing heat to crawl up your cheeks.

“Uh.. y-yeah. I mean, yes. Thank you,” you offered a small smile. God, he was so handsome it almost made it hard to even look at him.

“Y/N, this is my nephew Dean. Dean this is my new friend Y/N. Take care of her for the night would’ya? She thinks life is supposed to be like those romantic comedy movies,” she teased, sending you a wink.

The action did nothing to settle your nerves or alleviate the tension raking over your body. In fact, she made it worse.

“A rom-com chick? Oh, no,” he laughed. “Should I be worried?”

The playful tone in his voice surprisingly put you at ease. “What’s wrong with rom-coms?” You scoffed, nudging his arm off your shoulder. “Don’t you have a wife you should be attending to?”

“A wife? Nah. I’m a free man, Y/N,” Dean gloated, taking a seat beside you. If he didn’t just save you from that douche, you would think he was an arrogant ass, but something about him told you that he was a genuinely good guy. Plus, if Ellen was entrusting him to take care of you, he must be a good man.

“Then what’s with the ring?”

Dean chuckled. “It belonged to my father. He passed away to cancer a few years back,” he confessed.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you suddenly became timid.

“He wasn’t the greatest father, but he did his best you know? Besides, if it wasn’t for him, me and my brother wouldn’t be the people we are today. Little brother is a lawyer and I’ve got my own chain of auto shops around the country.”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“I guess. All that matters is that I’m pretty happy, you know? Anyways, what’s your story? Where’s your husband?”

This time, it was your turn to laugh. “Not married either. I swore of men a couple of years ago after I was humiliatingly dumped from my ex-fiancé. He cheated on me with his boss. When I called our relationship off, he took the ring and everything else. All he left me was my car and what ever was left of my dignity… which let me tell you, isn’t much.”

“Fuck. That’s harsh. What a douche bag!”

“Tell me about it,” you puffed out in defeat.

“Ah, screw him. You deserve better anyway. A tough girl like you don’t need a weak man like him.”

“Oh yeah? And what kind of man do I deserve?” you taunted, giving him your full attention.

A sly smirk stretched across his face. “Let me take you out tomorrow and I’ll show you.”

“Smooth,” you giggled, and Dean was laughing too.

“I’m serious. Let me take you out. You won’t regret it.”

You looked up at him with a wide smile on your face. “I have the utmost confidence that I won’t.”

Dean grinned. “Looks like we got ourselves a hot date!”

Again, you couldn’t control the laughter bubbling inside of you. He was a dork and you found it being far more attractive than you expected. You were looking forwards to that date.

Looks like it was time for the ring to come off.

A/N: My SPN Dean Bingo 2019 Card is officially complete! YAY! I hope you all liked the fics, and I hope you liked this last installment! If you did, please like and reblog! Leave some feedback! I would really appreciate it! Stay beautiful everyone! xx

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accio-moony · 3 years

Text

Not My Type || George Weasley x Reader Angst/Fluff

Request: { @jxsminedrxgon asked @eleven-times-lively: “Hi! I was wondering if I could get a George Weasley x transfer student (female) Ravenclaw angst that turns to fluff?”}

Word Count: ~6K [way too fucking long but I had originally planned more] [not completely proofread]

Summary: you’re a transfer student, new to Hogwarts, and a particular Weasley seems to be infatuated with you, and you deny it to yourself that you’re equally as infatuated. Jealousy makes you admit it to yourself, and eventually to him. [takes place during The Goblet of Fire/1994/George’s 6th year, but there is no tournament. There is quidditch as usual and there is a yule ball as if it is a yearly thing.]

WARNINGS: angst? Exploding potion, detention, idk

*not my gifs*

Being a transfer student is rarely easy, that’s for sure. It’s not often that someone jumps the pond, already knowing people on the other side. As you try not to scare yourself, you stare out the misty, wet window to the expansive hills flying by. Your father got a new job, which meant moving from North America to England. At your previous school, Ilvermorny, you were familiar with everything as you had gone there for the better part of the past five years. By second year, you knew the halls like the back of your hand, and you belonged to a group of friends within your house, Thunderbird. But now, as you ride the Hogwarts Express to your new school, you can’t help but feel nervous. Everything will be different, except that you’ll still be learning magic, something you were born into, and your parents were over the moon that you’d attend the same school they did — the school they met at. Until now.

Yet, now, as the train screeches to an eventual halt, everything is beyond your imagination. You aren’t quite sure what to expect, or what to do exactly, but you know you’ll keep to yourself and follow the rules. A new start isn’t necessarily so bad.

You stand on your toes, grab the handle of your new trunk, and haul it down, almost crushing yourself with its weight. You open the compartment door and check the halls for a clear spot to step out; they’re bustling with people greeting their friends and trying to get off the train first. As soon as an opening comes, you step into the corridor and struggle to drag your case and keep up with the crowd at the same time. The mild September heat engulfs you as you near the door of the train cart, and you can hear the shouts of other students as they scurry around in the rain.

As you step into the rain, you look at the world around you, finding a sign reading Hogsmead Station. You could’ve stood there all night, rain or shine, and taken in the new scenery, but the crowd jostled you along with them and towards some carriages. Many groups piled into the carriages together, still wrapped in conversation. You stood back, waiting for an empty one, and seized your moment when you saw one pulls forward, drawn by seemingly nothing.

“Leave your trunk here, miss,” you hear a raspy voice from behind you.

You turn to see an older man with many wrinkles and thin, messy grey hair standing next to a pile of hundreds of trunks. “Sorry, sir,” you apologize to him and give him your trunk. “I’m a transfer student.”

“Evidently,” he sneers at you, looking at you as though he smelled something fowl.

“Right,” you say to yourself and run back to the carriages. The one that you were about to get on before being called for your trunk was now almost full. Quickly, you nutty up to the back and muster up all your courage to speak to them. “Excuse me?” You clear your throat, and the two boys who were sat turn to look at you. “May I- uh- may I ride with you?”

The girl in the wagon lifts her head finally, her bushy hair bouncing around her. “Oh, hi! Of course,” she smiles and motions to the seat in front of her.

The two boys fall back into conversation as you sit down next to a tall red-headed boy. The girl had returned her head to be buried in the book she holds, and though you don’t want to be rude and interrupt her, you also don’t want to sit in awkward silence while the two boys talks loudly. “Uh, what’re you reading?” You ask, shyly.

She looks up at you, a big smiling growing on her face. “Oh, goodness. I like you already; these two gits never care for books.” She hands you the book, and you look over the colorful cover. “It’s called A Wrinkle in Time.” She explains. “It’s a muggle novel by Madeleine L’Engle.”

You look up at her, almost confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever met another witch who reads Muggle books,” you state.

“Oh, well,” she chuckles. “I’m muggle-born.” She almost shrinks, as if she’s scared of your reaction.

“Oh, that’s awesome!” You smile, and hers returns.

“Oi!” The red-headed boy next to you calls, and you and the bushy-haired girl look over at him. “You’re from America aren’t you?”

“Oh, uh,” you scoff to yourself, knowing you should already be expecting this question. “Yeah, I am.”

“Is this your first year at Hogwarts?” The girl asks.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Welcome! I’m Hermione Granger. This is Ronald Weasley,” she motions to the redhead next to you, “and Harry Potter.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you guys. I’m Y/n Y/l/n.”

“You can call me Ron, by the way,” says the redhead. “Hermione and my mum are the only ones who call me Ronald.” You nod.

“And fair warning: my older brothers — they’re twins and loud so you can’t miss them — anyway, I’m pretty sure George has a thing for American girls.”

“Great.”

When the carriage rounds the next corner, a castle beyond what you could dream of glows against a lake and mountains. Your jaw drops as you look up at it.

“It’s truly beautiful,” says Hermione. “You’ll get used to it soon enough though.”

“I’m not sure I want to get used to it,” you say, still awe-struck until you realize how that may have sounded rude. “I mean — it’s so amazing I could look at it forever. I never want to feel used to something like this and not be in awe every time I see it.”

The boys look at you with blank looks on their faces.

“Sorry, that didn’t make any sense.”

“I know what you mean,” Hermione places a hand on your arm. “The first years take little boats across the lake to the castle for their sorting ceremony. And now that I think of it, I wonder if you should’ve gone with them. That’s okay though, I’ll introduce you to Professor McGonagall — she handles the ceremony every year.”

Hermione stays to her word, and once the four of you have dismounted the carriage, the boys go ahead of you two, and Hermione walks with you to the front doors of the castle. “What year are you, Y/n?” She asks you as you both walk up the stone steps.

“Uh, sixth,” you say.

“Oh, goodness,” she laughs. “What?” You say, on the verge of panicking.

“Ron, Harry, and I are fourth,” she says simply. “But Fred and George — Ron’s brothers — they’re sixth years.” She looks up at you and raises an eyebrow suggestively.

“Oh, great,” you sigh.

“Professor!” She calls when the two of you cross the threshold.

An older woman with grey hair tucked under a large witch’s hat turns toward her, her emerald green robes falling down her tall figure.

“Welcome back, Miss Granger!” Her sharp tone intimidating but still welcoming. “Is there something you need help with, dear?”

“Oh, not me, Professor. This is Y/n Y/l/n. It’s her first year at Hogwarts — a transfer student.”

“Yes, of course,” she smiles warmly. “Welcome, Miss Y/l/n. You can stay here with me until the ceremony begins. Hermione, dear, go take your seat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she smiles and turns on her heals, beginning to walk away.

“Hermione?” You call after her, and she turns back to you. “Could I borrow that book when you finish it?”

“Of course!” She says, her smile wide enough to tear her cheeks.

After the main herd of students had filed into the Great Hall, a much smaller group of students enters the Entrance Hall, though they may have seen like a much smaller group not only because there were fewer of them, but also because they were smaller children, especially next to the very large bushy man accompanying them. You follow them and Professor McGonagall into the Great Hall and listen to her introduction speech.

After several moments, she stands next to the old hat, which then tells a poem through the rip in the brim.

“We’ll start with our transfer student,” she smiles down at you, and you straighten your posture. “Miss Y/l/n, if you will take a seat.”

You walk to the front of the group and sit on the short stool in front of the podium. The hat lowers onto your head, and you can hear it humming as it thought.

Next to Ron, at the Gryffindor table, Fred and George look at you, and then between themselves, then back to you. “Wicked,” they say in a unison that would make it seem like they share a brain.

“RAVENCLAW!” The hat bellows through the hall.

“Damn,” the twins say together, and look down at their plates in identical movements, the trio also seeming disappointed. Though Fred and George aren’t going to give up that easily — at least George isn’t going to give up that easily that is, and he drags Fred along with him through everything, not that Fred ever minds.

Once the feast is over, and you’re following the other Ravenclaws to the common room, you almost run into two people, when they practically suddenly appear in front of you, having been running and then suddenly stopping. You look up as you stumble so as to not physically run into them. You’re met with the faces of two identical boys, both of them with shoulder-length, shaggy red hair, and you conclude to yourself that they must be Ron’s older twin brothers.

“You’re the new girl,” one twin says matter-of-factly.

You nod and plaster a painfully obvious fake smile onto your face.

“I’m Fred,” says the other twin, gesturing to himself. “And this is my less attractive brother, George.”

Despite your best efforts, as you look back and forth between the two boys in front of you, noting the subtle differences so you can tell them apart, you can’t help but think how handsome they both are, and undeniably charming. You have to remind yourself that you’re not a social person, at least not yet to those at Hogwarts, and you’d like to keep your head down and out of trouble.

“Hi,” you entertain them. “I’m Y/n.”

“Pleasure,” George cheerily bows before you.

You giggle, not being able to stop yourself. “The pleasure is mine,” you smile and give an equally cheesy curtsy.

“Say, how do you feel about Quidditch, Y/n?” Fred asks.

“I love Quidditch!” You pipe. “I was a Chaser for my house back at Ilvermorny.”

“Well, George and I play,” Fred explains, George being left quiet, almost seeming suddenly shy. “We’re Gryffindor’s Beaters. And we heard that Ravenclaw is short a Chaser.”

Your face lights up, excited by the opportunity for a familiar past time.

“You should ask Flitwick,” George finally speaks again. “He’s head of the Ravenclaw house.”

“And the Charms Professor,” Fred continues.

“Well, thank you for the heads up then, boys,” you smile, and walk off after the rest of your house without another word.

Next day, the first day of term, you end up having a Charms class with both of the Weasley twins. You notice the two of them turn and pay attention to you as you walk up to Professor Flitwick.

“Professor Flitwick?” You call, standing politely behind him.

The extremely short man turns to you. “Ah, yes,” he claps his hands together. “Miss Y/l/n, welcome to Hogwarts and to the Ravenclaw house!”

“Thank you, sir,” you smile.

“How can I help you?”

“Well,” you start. “I got a tip from someone that one of the Chaser positions for the house team is open. I was wondering if I could try out for the spot? I was a Chaser at Ilvermorny.”

“Oh no need to try out, dear. No one else seems to want it. It’s yours!”

“Wow, ok. Thank you, Professor.”

You turn and take a seat at one of the desk rows across the room from the twins, but closer to the front of the room, closer to the blackboard. You pull your reading glasses out of your bag along with your Charms book and quill. You put your wand neatly in front of you on the desk, and your ink pot in the corner of your area.

Professor Flitwick clears his throat from the front of the room as he climbs onto a stack of books to be well seen by the students. You slide you glasses up your nose, quickly glancing at the twins, subconsciously hopping that they’ll have already been looking at you, but they were huddled into a small group with another Gryffindor boy in a deep discussion.

As class begins, and Professor Flitwick explains what to expect from this term, the boys don’t break their herd until their names are called loudly by the shrill voice of the Professor.

“If both Misters Weasley and Mister Jordan would pay attention,” he called them out, quickly pulling their attention to the front. “While I know that the first day of class is usually the most boring, if you pay attention, it will save from questions you will have later.”

Fred, George and their friend turned to the front for just a moment, but as soon as Professor Flitwick had turned to find the papers he was going to hand out — well float out — the boys turned back to their huddle and continued their conversation like nothing had happened.

“Detention, Mister Fred and George Weasley, and Mister Lee Jordan,” the Professor called, without even turning to see that they were back to talking. “And 10 points from Gryffindor —“

The Gryffindor students, including the group of three that have just cost their house points, groan loudly as they start the term with negative points.

“— each,” Professor Flitwick finishes, and the groaning becomes louder.

One student on the opposite end of the class threw something across the room at the three boys, an apple that Professor Flitwick caught with a simple flick of his wand and returned to the students desk.

“Detention for you, too, Miss Johnson.”

For the remainder of class, you did your best to pay attention to the lesson, but found it increasingly difficult. While the boys kept the talking to a minimum, you could feel George’s eyes on you the whole time. The moment Professor Flitwick dismisses class, you gather all your belongings in a handful — something you never do due to the level of unorganizedness — and bolt from the room, but not quick enough.

“Oi, Y/n!” You heard the twins call after you in unison, and sigh as you politely stop and turn to them with a half smile.

The events of the last hour and a half had left you disappointed to say the least. After your encounter with the twins after the feast the night before, you had begun to think maybe befriending them wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but seeing them not pay attention in class and get disciplined on the first day of term harmed your hopes, though you weren’t going to start being rude to them.

“Hello, boys,” you greet them as they approach you.

“Say,” Fred begins, “we were wondering if you’d like to do our Charms homework?”

George remained silent once again as you gave them both a look of astonishment.

“Absolutely not!” You scoffed, changing your mind slightly on the ‘not being ride the them’.

“You’re our only Ravenclaw friend,” he continues, “and with Quidditch and planning, we hardly have time to eat and sleep, so we thought we’d at least try.”

“Fred thought,” George corrects him, and Fred subtly nudges him with his elbow.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” you say softly, “but we’re not friends. We only met twelve hours ago, and now that I’ve seen the way you two are, I’m not sure I would consider becoming friends with you.”

“What do you mean, ‘the way you two are’?” Fred laughs. “We’re two fine lads if I do say so myself.”

“Fred,” George says, almost pleading.

“Y/n!” Another voice calls behind you, and you wonder how there are already so many people who know you. You turn away from the boys and down the hall to see the trio you met on the carriage marching down the corridor. “I finished the book,” Hermione smiles at you and pulls the book out of her bag, handing it over to you.

“Thank you, Hermione!” You smile. “I’ll be sure to give it back once I’m done. Shouldn’t be too long.”

“No worries.” “Say, George,” Ron says, looking quizzically behind you. “You’re awfully quiet; are you feeling okay?”

“It’s nothing,” George mutters and leaves to walk down the hall, almost at a jog.

Fred winks at you before following his twin, and you turn back to the trio blushing.

“Don’t let those two morons bother you, Y/n,” Hermione assures you, putting a hand on your forearm kindly.

“I’ve never seen anyone make George nervous before — much less quiet,” Ron admits. “You must be one hell of a girl in his eyes.”

“Uh, yeah,” you mutter, looking down at your black flats against the beautiful stone floors as you shyly rub the back of your neck. “I’ve got to get to my next lesson,” you smile to the three fourth years. “I’ll see you guys later.” Without waiting for a response from the group you continue down the hall, but stop at the corner before turning it and look back over your shoulder in time to see Ron shrug at something Hermione said as they enter the Charms classroom.

Fred and George end up being in several of your classes, including Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. One fall morning, on your way down to the dungeons for Potions, you hear the two familiar and almost identical voices talking outside the hall. Before you could turn the corner and see them, you hear your name being mentioned.

“It’s obvious you like Y/n, George,” Fred says.

You stop in your tracks behind the corner, thinking about how throughout the term so far, Fred and George have been restless. You’ve witness their pranks and loud jokes. During Quidditch games, Fred forces the bludgers at you, nearly knocking you off every time. The one time he actually managed to, George quickly flew down to the ground to see if you were okay, but you rolled your eyes as you got up with Hermione’s help. “Fuck off, Weasley,” you had jeered at him as you stumbled off the pitch and towards Madame Pomfrey to be cleared to continue the game. Once you were cleared, you worked harder than you had before at Hogwarts, and though Harry caught the snitch, Ravenclaw was only two goals away from having won without the snitch. You feel a bit bad about having told him to ‘fuck off’ when he didn’t do anything wrong, but you’re also mad that Fred thinks that’s a suitable way to get your attention.

“Well, no shit, Sherlock,” George scoffs at his brother, still out of your line of sight. “How could I not? She’s the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. She’s smart and funny and dorky and adorable and everything I’d ever want. Her being good at Quidditch is always a plus, but because the move you pulled at the game last week, she’s bound to still be mad at me.”

“Make it up to her then!” Fred protests. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you — like you’re an idiot, but a handsome idiot, you know?”

“Thanks?”

“You just have to try, brother. You’re the George Weasley, you can do anything you want.”

“Whatever,” he sighs and you hear footsteps retreat down the corridor.

You take this as your signal to stop hiding, to stop ease-dropping, and go to class. You quickly turn the corner and hurry into the Potions room, finding everyone standing around the room instead of in seats.

“What’s going on?” You ask a fellow Ravenclaw girl.

“New partner assignment, I think,” she explains, without really even looking up at you, keeping her nose in the Potions book, turned to the page which you assume is what today’s lesson will be, though you can’t see what the title of the page is.

“Quiet!” Professor Snape’s deep nasally voice echos through the dungeon over the loud conversations of the students, effectively quieting them.”You have new partners as of today,” he said, then began to call out last names in pairs.

“Y/l/n,” he calls, then pauses to think of who to pair you with. “Weasley,” he decides, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Which one?” Fred pipes from across the room.

“I don’t care,” he says, then continues to pair off students.

You quickly take a seat at a desk in the second row, waiting for whichever twin to join you, but you had a feeling it would be George because of what you just heard in the hall.

“Hi, Y/n,” he says as he takes the seat next to you.

“Hi, George,” you say with a smile, but don’t look up from your Potions book to look at him.

“How’d you know I’m George and not Fred?” He says, and this time you do look up at him.

“Uh,” you hesitate, “gut feeling?”

“A Befuddlement Draught,” Snape begins as George sits down next to you and slouches back in his chair. You try not to pay attention to George and his demeanor, comparing it to your own, instead of paying attention to Professor Snape’s pre-lesson speech. “Is a potion that causes the drinker to become belligerent and reckless.” He looks between the Weasley twins. “The ingredients are scurry grass, lovage, and sneezewort.”

You wrote quickly as he spoke, taking notes to help you with studying and homework later. George looked at you, then pulled our his own piece of parchment, but he wasn’t writing notes. He wanted to seem like he was, but really he was righting a sort of journal entry about how beautiful he thinks you are, so paying attention even less than if he wasn’t “taking notes”.

“These plants are most efficacious in the inflaming of the brain,” Snape continues, and you recognize his words as a passage from the Potions book you had read to get ahead. “And are therefore much used in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts, where the wizard is desirous of producing hot-headedness and recklessness.”

You laugh to yourself slightly, just loud enough for only George to hear, and he quickly looks up at you at the beautiful sound.

“What’s so funny?” He whispers.

You hesitate a moment while you smile to yourself. “You wouldn’t need this potion to be reckless, would you, Weasley?”

His face turns beat red, and as you look over at him, he quickly folds his piece of parchment and stuffs it into his bag haphazardly.

“You will be making this today,” Professor Snape said, waving his wand at the blackboard, making the chalk write the instructions on its own. “It is nearly impossible to mess up.” He looked around the room down his long nose, examining every student. He sees your readiness and eagerness to start, and he notes the twins lack of interest as they look across the dungeon at each other mouthing in conversation. Snape rolls up the papers in his hand and walks towards you and George’s desk. He lifts the parchment and brings it down rough on George’s head and making you gasp while he looks sternly at Fred. “Get started.”

You tie your hair up effortlessly, and George can’t help but notice how beautiful and natural you look. Then as you walk off to go get the ingredients listed on the board and in the book, he looks after you longingly, following you like a lost puppy as he grabs random ingredients from the shelves.

When you come back, you slide your house robe off your shoulders and drape it over your chair, getting to work as you roll up the sleeves of your jumper.

“Are you going to let me help?” George asks.

You look at him, silent for a moment as you think. “Are you going to actually help, or blow it up like every other potion you and your brother make.”

“I’d like to actually help.”

“Okay then, would you put the sneezewort into the cauldron?” You ask him politely.

He picks up an ingredient, not paying quite enough attention to what and holds it over the cauldron as he looks over your book.

“George, no!” You yell and reach out to grab his arm. “That’s —“ but it was too late.

George had dropped what he was holding into the pot, and it immediately blew up. You screamed as you covered yourself with your arms and ducked, but George was too shocked by his own action to react, and his face was left covered in dirt.

You stand back up and look over at him. “That was an Erumpent horn!” You exclaim. George looks down at his hands, not knowing what to say. The clicking of boots fills the dungeon as everyone had gone silent and was staring at the two of you. You look up and see Professor Snape approaching you.

“You’re quite right, Miss Y/l/n,” Snape says, and you blush deeply. “Maybe you should have been watching him more carefully.”

“I thought I was, I thought I could trust him,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else.

“50 points from Gryffindor,” he sneers, and you jerk your head to look at George, who’s face is almost expressionless. “And Ravenclaw as well.”

“But sir —“ you begin.

“And detention, Saturday evening.”

Your jaw drops, practically hitting the floor. You had never gotten points taken from your house before, much less gotten in trouble.

“For now, there is no coming back from this mistake,” Snape looks at George intently. “You are both excused from the rest of the class.”

Without thinking much, you shove George with both your hands, and he stumbles backwards, watching after you as you grab your bag and hurry out of the room. He’s frozen in his spot a moment, until Snape clears his throat. George grabs his own belongings and hurries after you.

“Y/n!” He calls when he gets into the hall, but you’re already turning the corner without even a glance back at him.

Later that evening, at supper, you sit alone at the Ravenclaw table with a book, but you weren’t paying much attention to it, rather just staring at the page as you push the food around on your plate.

“Oi, Angelina,” you hear a familiar voice call, and look up to see the twins looking down the Gryffindor table at one of the house chasers. You see George as he reaches across the table towards her. “Will you go to the ball with me?”

You barely hear him from where you’re sitting, but you hear him enough and can read his lips enough to know he said it. Your eyes shift over to Hermione, who’s looking across the tables to you. Your mouth thins into a line as you fight back the tears, though you know they shouldn’t be there. Not knowing what else to do, and not wanting anyone else to notice your dismay, you grab your book up and leave the Great Hall.

You’re already on the grand marble staircase when you hear Hermione, Ron, and Harry all call after you. You don’t stop and pick up your pace.

“Y/n, please!” You hear Hermione call, and you can’t help but stop.

You turn around and wipe the tear off your cheek.

“Why are you crying?” She asks as she pulls you into a hug.

“Why would he do that?” You snuffle out.

“I don’t know,” Ron says. “He’s so infatuated with you, I couldn’t believe it. But I thought you despised him?”

“He got me detention, I do despise him,” you say, but continue, “did — I did despise him. At least I thought I did.” You slump down and sit on the staircase with your head in your hands. Hermione its next to you and sets hand on your back. “He’s really not my type of person. I’ve never been in trouble before! And he’s constantly in trouble! I don’t know what it is about him. He’s handsome and funny, and I’m only now realizing it, but I can’t help but like him. Merlin, I’m so stupid.”

“You are not stupid,” Harry says. “He’s stupid.” “That’s not news, mate,” Ron says.

“Well, yeah,” Harry says, “but we didn’t know he was this stupid.”

You sniffle a laugh at his words and look up at him, only, you notice a pair of fiery red hair, just like Ron’s, standing in the corridor behind Harry.

You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly run up the rest of the stairs, sprinting to the Ravenclaw tower.

“I—“ George begins from behind Ron, but doesn’t know what to say and just closes his mouth.

“You’re fucking stupid,” Ron scoffs at his older brother and turns and walks away with Hermione and Harry.

George looks over to Fred, who’s face reflects the same disbelief as his own.

That night, for the first time, you didn’t touch your homework, but instead went straight to bed and cried yourself to sleep.

When Saturday’s detention rolled around, you arrived early as is normal for you. Snape let you start on the task he decided to assign you for detention. You were to go through one box of old discipline reports before you could leave. You sat in the corner of the room and pulled the lid off a box, beginning to sort it. It wasn’t long until George joined, but Snape gave him a rag and told him to clean all the desks. George sighed, and Snape walked out of the room.

You could feel George’s eyes on you from where he stood unmoved.

“Y/n,” he beings. “I’m sorry.”

You refuse to even look at him as you give him the silent treatment.

“I shouldn’t have been so cocky with the potion,” he continues. “I just wanted to seem like I knew what I was doing.”

You remained silent as you shifted through the box.

Throughout the unnecessary hour George was taking to wipe down the tables, he continued to try and apologize or make conversation, but you still ignored him.

When you finished the file box, you closed the lid and pulled out a bit of parchment. You put the box on Snape’s desk, along with a note offering to continue to file to earn back the points you had lost the House, and you leave the room without a word.

“Y/n!” George calls down the dungeon corridor, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

You don’t respond and keep walking, but you hear his heavy footsteps running closer to you, until you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, sending sparks through your skin. You snatch your hand back instinctively, but he holds his grip

“Don’t touch me, Weasley,” you say punctuated.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” He asks, almost yelling.

“You’re not good, George Weasley,” you shout back. “Never have I ever gotten in trouble before. But you made me get detention! You don’t study, you don’t pay attention, you probably don’t even think! Please, just leave me alone.”

You twist your wrist from his grasp and turn up the stairs, walking away from him again.

You managed to avoid him for the most part, besides Potions, where you just refused to talk to him.

One day, a few weeks after your detention, you’re sitting in the court yard wrapped in a blanket, leaning against a pillar as you read in the snow. You’re the only person in the courtyard, but you liked it that way. People had started congregating inside because of the cold, and the library and common room had become too crowded.

You hear a group of feet crushing snow as they walk towards you, but you don’t look up, too enveloped in your book.

“Hey, Y/l/n!” A cold voice jest. “What’s you doing out here all alone?”

You look up to see the school bully, Draco Malfoy laughing at you with his posse. He loved poking fun at everyone outside of the Slytherin house.

“I’m reading,” you smile. “You should try it sometime. Maybe you’ll learn how not to be such an ass.” Your voice remains steady and polite as you speak.

“How dare you!” He announces, and reaches towards you, pulling your blanket off of you, leaving you cold.

“Give it back!” You demand.

“No.”

You open your mouth to speak, but a flare of red light comes over your shoulder and hits Draco in the chest, sending him several feet backwards, your blanket still in hand. The caster walks out from behind you and over to Draco on the ground. He pulls the blanket out of Draco’s grasp with difficulty, but kicks him in the side to get him to let go. Draco cries out in pain, his friends bustling away.

The caster turns towards you, and you see the red hair poking out from under his beanie, and the familiar face. George.

“Here,” he says softly, as he hands the blanket to you.

“Thank you,” you say simply, reaching for it, but before you can touch it, George pulls it back, and you sigh in frustration.

“Actually,” he starts. “I’ll give it back if you come with me and let me talk.”

You knew you weren’t getting out of this, so you stood up. “Let’s go then.”

He leads you up the the astronomy tower, and you look over the untouched white canvas of the grounds. “I’m sorry,” he continues. “I’m sorry I got you detention. I’m sorry about the bludger. I’m just sorry, for everything.”

“Okay,” you say.

“I really like you, and I know it’s obvious. I’ve never been so nervous around someone before. I’ve never felt like I needed to actually try to make a good impression, and when I did try, I fucked up and got us in trouble. I just don’t know how to act around you.”

“You really like me?” You ask.

“Yes, of course.”

“Then why did you ask Angelina to the ball?” You murmur.

“I didn’t think you liked me. I was trying to just move on before I made anything worse, but then that made it worse. I heard you talking to Ron and them in the hall, and I heard you say it. I immediately cancelled the ball with her so I could ask you once I’ve apologized but you never let me. You’re all I can think about, Y/n.”

You look up into his soft eyes, and your heart melts. “I forgive you,” you mutter.

“Really?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yes,” you blush and look down at the grounds from the ledge as you avoid George’s eyes.

He clears his throat. “Will you, Y/n Y/l/n be my date to the Yule ball, and my date to everything else from here on. Will you please be mine?”

You couldn’t control the smile on your face as you looked back at him. “Under one condition,” you giggle.

“Anything,” George pleads.

“Kiss me,” you say, building up your confidence to straighten your posture and look directly into his eyes.

“Definitely.”

George grabs your face softly and leans down, putting his soft lips on your own as you both smile ridiculously as the fireworks blow within the both of you.

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