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shiny-jr · 1 year

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☀ damnation [ the hyena chieftain ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Jack Howl, Ruggie Bucchi, Leona Kingscholar.

– Note: Not much to say right now, just a continuation of transferring the results from the quiz onto here so people can read. Like last time, if you haven’t taken the quiz, please try it! I worked a lot on it. As for now, I’m working on the next batch of results (Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, and Diasomnia). Scarabia is a current work in progress, had to rewrite part of it because I didn’t like it.

– Pages: 42

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The King of Hearts | The Hyena Chieftain | The Diviner

Wrapped. You were partially wrapped in a thin cool cloth. It was hot, and whatever you woke up on was uncomfortable but was much better than the hard cold benches of the jail. Everything came rushing back in an instant, your crimes, those scowling judges, and the portal that led to your punishment— You were here, the place where you’d live the rest of your life in exile.

Looking around, you thought to yourself, it could be a lot worse. It appeared that you were in some type of room, or a small house, or rather— a cave. The low ceilings were uneven, rocky, reflective and shiny with dew. The hard cold floor was uneven, and looking down, you could see that you lay atop a dirty old mattress with no bed frame. The mattress was just on the floor, there were even a couple of springs cutting through the corners. Thankfully there was light thanks to an old broken lamp in the corner, lit by a flame instead of electricity. The few shelves on the wall were stock full of pots and pans and silverware, and just a few feet away there was a small stone stove. Looks like you ended up in someone’s house. But who’s? And why?

As you jumped up on your feet, you realized that the cloth you were swaddled in was not a blanket for this bed, but a gray wrap that stretched from your left shoulder to the right side of your hip, the cloth held in place by a thin belt around your waist. Attached to the belt was a scabbard, and inside was a curved dagger you curiously examined in the palms of your hands, covered in long fingerless brown gloves. This knife might be useful to keep on you. You never know when things might get dangerous. Tucking the weapon back in its place, you returned your attention to the rest of your outfit. Underneath your wrap, you wore an extremely loose fitted sleeveless brown tunic that could just barely be seen, with matching cargo pants and worn boots.

“Hey, boss! Guess who got a great haul?”

Surprised by the sudden voice, you looked up only to see a short guy barreling into the room, past the curtains that served as a barrier, with an armful of goods. You weren’t too focused on whatever he was carrying, you were distracted by something else attached to his head and lower back. Ears, and a tail. The guy had fluffy but messy brown hair that faded into a sandy blonde, his semi-round ears were brown and his short tail matched his hair color. Were those the characteristics of a dog or a cat…? More important, why had he called you boss?

His downturned eyes, gray in color, peered up at you as he dropped all of his goodies on the mattress you were just asleep on moments ago. Flashing a proud grin, he rummaged through the pile as he explained, “Bunch of tourists from afar were on their way to the kingdom. Lucky for us, they took a wrong turn and ended up on our land. I mean, look at all this cheddar! Coins, jewelry, clothes, oh, and check it out–– rations! There’s a bunch more where this came from. And don’t worry, we split up all the stuff like you told us.”

As he sorted through the various objects, you pried your eyes away from his animal features and noticed his gloves were torn, old and rugged from what must’ve been countless times being worn. In the spots that were torn through, his hands looked rough and damaged from work. Curiously you stepped closer, scanning the pile, “There’s no gloves…?”

“Nah, I went through everything before we split it and sent them to the different ends with the guys to hand out.” Tossing aside some cans, he inquired, “Why? You lookin’ for some?” Actually, now that you were looking at him, you realized most if not all of his clothes were most likely stolen. The white cotton tunic was browning with age and was several sizes too big on his thin form, the large gray pants he wore were held up by a belt similar to yours that held a knife, and he had a dark brown shawl long enough to wrap around his shoulders and extend down his sides.

You still weren’t entirely sure what was going on, but as you looked down at your hands, it became evident that this guy needed these accessories more than you did. Peeling off the long brown gloves from your palms, you outstretched your hands and watched as he hesitantly, confusedly, placed his palms against your own. Removing his old gloves, you replaced them with your own. They matched his shawl. “If you don’t want to throw away your old ones, then save the material to make something else.”

“Really? For me? Seriously, you’re always giving me your things…” Eyeing the new gloves on his hands, he tugged on the material, seemingly content with the new pair. Raising an eyebrow, he eyed you suspiciously, “Spit it out, what job do you want me to do?”

Job? Right, so it seemed like this guy thought you were his boss and he was the subordinate. But it wasn’t just an ordinary gig being run here. Based on what he said before, these people stole if not for a living, then probably very often. And it was a large number of thieves that included himself, and you were their leader…? This was getting too confusing. “Look, I think you’re getting things wrong.” Clear things up now. “I’m not––”

“Is bringin’ ya the news good enough to pay you back? Because I heard a lot of it from those tourists and from locals in the pride lands. Come on, let’s walk while we talk.” Gesturing you to follow, you hesitantly did, and what you saw outside surprised you.

It was the slums. The little house you had been in, was inside of a huge cave system that housed multiple other rooms and even rooms outside in the sun. The environment was rocky, hot, and barren, but there were still countless people about. People like this guy, with fur-covered ears and tails, in rags and worn clothing. Clothes were being washed in huge bins by groups and hung to dry on lines, there was another group over fires cooking bits of food and collecting cans, and various other jobs being done. However, what caught you off guard, was that each person smiled at you and greeted you merrily, calling you boss, as if they had known you for years. Then, they also greeted the guy beside you. Ruggie, they called him.

“So here’s the deal, it’s not looking good on food for the week. We scavenged and sent some fishermen to the far end of the river, we even got some more people than usual at the markets in the kingdom making the usual food runs. But with King Falena making random rounds with his soldiers, we’re risking the chance of our guys getting caught.” Rolling his eyes at the mention of this king, Ruggie scoffed, muttering in annoyance, “Falena’s a dad now, why can’t he just go waste his time playing dear old daddy for that dumb little spoiled brat of his?! That’d make things so much easier for us, you know?”

A king and a land of hungry… Why did this seem familiar? You looked back at the guy beside you and his animal ears and tail. Almost everyone else here had similar appendages. What animal were they…?

“Oh, and before I forget, that Prince Leona was skulking around the borderlands again. Says he wants to talk to you, told me to tell you that myself. Gave a time and everything, talk about conceited.” Annoyed at the memory, he folded his arms behind his head and huffed, “You know, I kinda hate that guy. He’s always trying to boss me around, as if I work for him. Lions, am I right?”

A lion…? A lion prince, and an impoverished community… That… That sounded like the story of the Lion King. A story you used to read a lot when you were a kid. It was about a powerful and majestic lion that ruled over the savanna, and eventually his queen had a son who became heir and next in line for the throne. However, the majestic king had a prince brother who desired the throne more than anything. So, in secret the second prince met with the frowned upon hyenas that lived in the outskirts of the kingdom where there was little food and little water. The second prince befriended the hyenas and with the promise of being allowed into the land of plenty, plotted to overthrow his brother with the help of the hyenas. His plan succeeded, partially, as he murdered his elder brother but his prince nephew escaped. Only years later, after a short harsh rein under the cruel second prince, did the young prince return, now grown. The young prince took back the throne after a duel, and the second prince fell to his demise as the very hyenas he allied himself with, turned against him when the second prince attempted to blame them for the entire ordeal.

“Rightttt…” You responded quietly, not really paying that much attention to him because you were currently trying to piece together what you knew and what was going on. “... What time did he give you?”

“Who? The prince?” Ruggie stopped to look up at the sun, analyzing the angle of the light and length of the shadows with the position of the sun. Slowly he shrugged, “I’d say in ‘bout… few minutes actually. You’re not actually thinking of going, are you?”

The prince… This was a possible lead to… well, something, wasn’t it? Nodding to yourself, you answered confidently, “Yeah, I am, actually. Lead the way, will you?”

A sigh escaped past his lips as his shoulders sagged and he shoved his hands into his pockets. It seemed he was considering it, like he even wanted to say no, but finally he relented and threw up his hands. “You wanna see that stuck-up guy? Go for it. You’re the boss, you know what you’re doing.”

Yeah, you totally don’t know what you’re doing at all. Going with the gut feeling at the moment, and apparently your gut thought you should meet this prince, whoever he was. So you followed Ruggie as he obediently led the way through the dirt streets.

So wait, did that mean that this Ruggie guy and the rest of those people in the community were supposed to be the hyenas? Glancing at his animal characteristics, you could totally see it now. The fluffy ears and the short tail with brown or black colors, they were definitely the frowned upon hyenas of the story. Which meant that the majestic king was King Falena who Ruggie beside you off-handedly mentioned earlier, and his son was the kid prince that would one day rule the land after the tragedy. And finally, the villain of the story, the cruel and calculating second prince, brother of the majestic king… was this Prince Leona that wanted to meet you.

If you got all that right, then one of those outlandish rumors about where prisoners were banished to, was actually right! What a weird punishment, to be transported to the animal equivalent of Hamlet. At least they weren’t actually animals, just people with animal traits?

Now, considering all that, the rumors and information you had so far, what role did you play? It was obvious that the hyena folk didn’t see you as just some random human stranger that popped out of the sky and fell onto their land. No, they held you in high regard, like a person in power, despite not having their animal traits and you not knowing a single one of them. There was this one rumor your crazy aunt used to rave on and on about whenever a trial was broadcasted. Now it made sense as to the reason she always read you bedtime stories about good guys and bad guys, was precisely because she firmly believed that theory she always talked about. She truly believed that criminals would somehow end up in fantasy tales, and die in those tales. Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all. She actually had it right on the money. Wait—

Did that mean you were going to die here? Nervously you looked over at Ruggie, who seemed completely content with walking in silence, as he led you through dry rugged lands of cliffs and stone.

As you walked beside him, careful of where you stepped, you replayed the whole story in your mind. You were with the hyenas, they called you boss, so were you… the hyena clan leader? The clan leader was respected by the rest of the hyenas, she called the shots, and dealt directly with the second prince when negotiating. It was also her who overheard the second prince betraying them when confronted by the kid prince after he returned. Then, she and the rest of her kin, attacked and killed the royal that betrayed them. Queen shit, but what happened to her after? It never clarified, since the story revolved around the kid prince and how he restored the savanna to its former glory once he reclaimed the throne. If you had to guess, she and the rest of the hyenas were probably forced into the outskirts once again, where there were little resources to live off of. There was no immediate death for her, no violence that ended her life, but she was surrounded by poverty, starvation, and lack of water until the day she died. That was still a horrible way to die…

The ending never sat particularly right with you as a kid. Surely all the hyenas weren’t bad, so why were they all driven away while all the lions got to live in the land of milk and honey? It didn’t make much sense, considering the main villain was a selfish lion too. You for one, did not want to settle with the destined ending already set in place.

If we’re going according to the plot, then this must be when the second prince initiates first contact with the hyenas and begins to gain their trust to use in the plotted coup against his elder brother. As you got near the top of a few cliffs, on one side were the slums you just emerged from, and on the other side was vast greenery as far as the eye could see with a large colorful vibrant city. Two completely different worlds, separated just by cliffs.

From your spot this high up, you could see various animal-like folk. Yet the most common had golden ears and a shiny mane, wearing just as shiny gold and jewels with fabulous garbs, living in huge houses no-doubt furnished entirely with fine objects and appliances. In a way, the huge gap between the rich and the poor reminded you of home, and not in a good way. You scowled at the abundance these lion-folk had, while thinking of the misery the hyena folk lived in. It really was no wonder that the hyena clan leader had willingly helped in a coup, if it meant her people would finally get a piece of the wealth. The scowl grew on your lips as you spat, “Eat the rich.”

“Hear, hear!” Ruggie threw his head back and laughed, but it was a sort of desolate laugh, not one of happiness. And it was obvious as to why it came out like that as he eyed the bountiful city down below. “If it weren’t for them, you’d be the ruler of this land, you know. Doesn’t that seem great? Getting to live life without worrying when your next meal will be or if there’s even enough water to drink?”

Resuming your trek behind Ruggie, you slowly nodded along to his words. “Yeah, that sounds like a dream to be honest…” But the hyenas eventually succeeded in becoming part of the savanna. However, it doesn’t last long before the savanna becomes a desolate wasteland. Perhaps it couldn’t support both the lions and hyenas, but stories liked to claim that the hyenas just consumed far too much due to their greed. If things did go according to the story, then you would have to find a way to prevent the land from becoming barren and lifeless.

Just as you reached the top of the cliff, you and Ruggie roamed the high grounds until you spotted something. Or rather, someone.

They were a towering figure, if you had to describe them, he looked like the most intimidating bouncer to stand at the entrance to the most exclusive club. Perfectly fitting the body-guard type, he must’ve been security for the second prince. He looked to be on the younger side but he had to be over six feet tall, and with a muscular build like that, you feared that he’d easily be able to take on both you and Ruggie if things went south.

His attire was unlike yours, it was dark brown thick fabric with colorful orange and red vibrant patterns over his torso, that were mostly concealed by bronze and gold plates over his shoulders and chest. And in his hands, he held a long sharpened spear. Yup, definitely a guard. It became obvious that he noticed you, because his golden-brown eyes became laser focused on you and your companion. His ears–– among his wild mess of white hair that contrasted against the healthy bronze glow of his skin, were white pointed wolf-like ears, standing upright in attention. That’s when you noticed his long bushy tail too.

Yeah, that’s a white wolf, but there were no white wolves in the story…? Additionally, he looked nothing like Ruggie, who was short with his brown and blonde hair and beige skin, that easily allowed him to blend in with the rocky environment. Were you wrong? Was this not a story?

The wolf guy eyed you and Ruggie with suspicion before stamping the dull end of his spear against the ground and barked, “The prince approaches! His highness wants–– er… is requesting an audience with… you.” He pointed at you with his spear.

Inexperienced. You were right, the guard was young and he doubted himself with that last line. You exchanged glances with Ruggie, who must’ve been thinking the same thing as you, because he covered his mouth and whispered,

“Newbie. Fresh meat.”

You cracked a bit at that last bit, a very short and brief laugh nearly escaping your lips, to which Ruggie only grinned at before lowering his hand. The guard did not seem to appreciate the laughter in response, because his ears flattened back a bit and his frown deepened in embarrassment as he chastised, “I heard that! You disrespectful–– If you have dignity, you would respect the prince!”

“Why should I? He’s a lion, he’s definitely not my prince.” Crossing his arms, Ruggie took amusement in the wolf’s annoyance. So he continued cockily, “Yeah, we know who he is. He’s just like all those other lions, lazy, arrogant, you name it.”

The guard looked like he wanted to retaliate, but you weren’t sure if he wanted to go about it physically or verbally as he clenched his fists and gritted his sharp canines. You sent a look over at Ruggie to which he zipped his lips and offered a half-assed apologetic shrug that was directed more to you than to the wolf.

Just before you could find out if this wolf would act on impulse, a figure you hadn’t even noticed appeared from the shadows of the cliff.

“Don’t let them get to you, Jack. They enjoy seeing you all flustered.”

Immediately you whipped your head towards the approaching figure, wondering how they were so quiet. How long had they been there? When he stepped out of the shadows, you were immediately blinded by the jewels and beads wrapped around his neck and wrists. Even his red agbada was decorated with golden and orange linings, highlighting his wealth even further, as if the rare accessories weren’t enough. A mane, a long brown mane just slightly darker than his cool umber tone, was nearly enough to hide his own animal traits. Almost. You could make out the shape of large cat-like ears and a long thin tail that hung limply. A lion. This could only be Prince Leona, the second prince.

Turning his predatory green-eyed gaze over to you and your companion, he faked mock dejection before an amused type of grin appeared on his tired face. “We lions can’t be that bad. Try not to lump me in with them.”

You stood a distance away with Ruggie, carefully eyeing the prince. Right over his left eye, was a lengthy scar. At the moment he seemed… alright, but if you were right about this world’s events following the plot of the story, then this prince was to be feared. The second prince was cunning, calculating, and cruel. Very nearly did he succeed in everything. He murdered his elder brother, he completed the coup, he won over the hyenas, he became king. The only thing that went astray in his near-perfect plan, was the escape of his nephew that allowed the cub to grow and eventually become strong enough to regain the throne. That was the second prince’s one mistake that led to his demise. Slowly, albeit unsurely, you nodded your head in acknowledgement of his presence.

“Chief.” Leona nodded back regally, his curved charming smile keeping you on your toes. “I’m surprised you accepted the invitation. I didn’t think you would come. I thought maybe you’d send your little lapdog for you.”

Glancing at Ruggie, you noted his irritated frown, but the comment didn’t appear to dig into him too much. You’d have to choose your words carefully. Afterall, this was a prince you were dealing with. These were practically diplomatic issues, one misstep could bring trouble. But, luckily, you knew how things would go, and you had a rough idea of how the second prince would react according to the story’s plot. Even if things did go astray, not everyone would jump to defend the second prince. It’s said he was disliked by nearly everyone in his home kingdom.

Turning your attention back to the said royal, you responded calmly with an even smile, “I thought maybe the prince would have better manners and better brains than to just openly offend one of my own. Do you know what we do to royalty that step out of their kingdom?”

Once those words left your mouth, Jack bared his teeth and pointed his spear at you, bending his knees and shifting into a fighting stance.

However, Leona’s amusement at your retort quickly faded as he appeared unimpressed at his guard’s action. “Easy, boy. Relax.” Once the wolf begrudgingly lowered his spear and resumed his standing position, the prince shrugged, “It’s true, it’s not much of an invitation from me since we are still on your land. Forgive my impertinence, won’t you, chief? Where are my manners? I shall practice my curtsy next time I greet the ruler of the hyenas.”

At his sarcasm and dramatic curtsey, you gave a quick chortle. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, you know.”

“I realize that, which is why I’ve come with an offering.” Leona snapped his fingers, gesturing to his bodyguard.

You hadn’t even noticed but Jack was carrying a bulky knapsack which he removed off his back at the sound of the prince’s snap. Zipping it open, he dumped all the contents of the bag onto the space between himself and the royal. Shaking it to make sure it was empty, he then tossed the bag aside, leaving a sizable pile of canned rations and packed goods. The metals and reflective packaging shone in the sun, tempting the hyena beside you.

Holding out your arm, you stopped Ruggie from jumping into the pile of food, shaking your head at his hands itching to snatch up every single object he could carry. This was it, you realized. This was how he befriended the hyenas and earned their trust. He bore gifts they desperately needed in the name of good-will, and only later did he reveal his plot that required their assistance. It wasn’t a friendship, it was something akin to a treaty. A treaty that would one day be torn to shreds the moment he betrays the hyena-folk. When you looked up, everyone was watching you, waiting to see what you would do. It felt as if the lion was patiently biding his time until you fell into his trap.

The plot was moving forward. Leona needed the hyenas, he couldn’t complete the coup all on his own. So either way, with or without your approval, he would win the majority of the hyena-folk by his false good-will. You could reveal to Ruggie and the others that you weren’t who they thought you were, but that didn’t work before. Even if it did work this time, what then? Would they turn on you? Would they accept you but lower your standing in the ranks? Or would you be banished, die stranded in a hot desert where the vultures would peck at your remains? There was that option, or… you could stay and play the role of chieftain of the clan. Then, with your knowledge of the story, you could alter the course of the future, get rid of the kid prince and keep the kingdom from declining once the hyenas arrived, and live the rest of your life in the beautiful land of plenty. To be honest, that last option sounded way better than the first.

Clearing your throat, you began, “I see what you’re doing here, Prince Leona. Offering food with a smile, waiting for us to eat out of your hand like obedient mutts so you can save us in your backpocket for something… devious. I respect that.” Focusing your gaze on the surprised prince, you once again flashed another smile before nodding to Ruggie, to which the hyena immediately dove forward to claim the offering. “But if you want our trust, or are trying to fool us, it’s going to take a lot more than that.”

In an instant, Ruggie had shoved every single ration and good back into the sack. Once done, he threw it over his shoulder and merrily gave a salute, jogging backwards until he was right back at your side. “Pleasure doing business!”

“Distribute that when we get back.” You murmured to the hyena, then averting your attention back to the important matter at hand. The prince. Giving him a thankful nod, you began to take your leave, following after your energetic companion, but not without bidding your goodbye, “Prince Leona, and Jack, was it? I look forward to next time. And next time, try not to underestimate us.”

At your words, Leona merely scoffed, his smile gone as he warned slowly, “Oh no, perhaps you shouldn’t underestimate me. But for now… Be well, little chieftain.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

By the second visit, a week had passed.

In that week, you had begun to get a feel for what this role you took over required. It may have seemed like an attractive role, to be a clan leader beloved by many, but it was tiring and grueling work. It required hard labor, there wasn’t a moment you weren’t busy either with tasks directly for the clan or by solving disputes within the community. Directing the groups of expert pick-pockets and looters to areas of the prosperous kingdom where King Falena was least likely to appear on his rounds, assisting in separating and handing out the stolen goods when the group returned, collecting foraged foods to cook with a group designated to prepare meals with the little they had, that was only a small list of responsibilities you had somehow managed to successfully deal with since arriving. The meals you had were not full course ones, but it was just enough to get by on, but not enough to keep you full since you’d wake up every morning with an aching hunger.

As you climbed up the cliff to the meeting spot designated by the prince who once again sent word through Ruggie, you were followed by said hyena. The guy was really a huge help around here, it was no wonder that everyone in town loved him, even if he was conniving, he only really ever plotted against the lion-folk.

In your head, you went over the story for the umpteenth time. You couldn’t remember any other specific reason the second prince would visit again unless he was trying to further build the foundation of trust. To be honest, you had been so busy trying to complete your work and blend in the past few days, that you had forgotten about the prince for a while. Until now that is. When you arrived at the meeting spot, Jack and Prince Leona were already there waiting.

As soon as the lion’s green gaze landed on you, a smile appeared on his face. You didn’t like his smile. It was the type of smile that felt like it was hiding something, it felt like more of a grin or a smirk. But perhaps that’s just the way he smiled. “Why, if it isn’t the chieftain descending from on high to meet me? Or shall I say, ascending from down low.” His gaze flickered to the run-down abodes down below.

“Haha, uh-huh, watch it, Prince.” You raised your gaze to meet his, having to look up at him as he casually strolled past you. Getting close enough that you worried he might try something. “Let’s speak privately. You seemed to doubt my sincerity last time, so let me try again. Jack.” Turning to face his personal guard that approached when summoned, Leona gestured to the wolf and continued, “Take him. You have him for one week. Use him as you like. Through intense labor, guarding, whatever. He’ll serve you well, just try not to use him for your little thieving parties. If caught, I’d rather not have to explain to the court why my own guard was working hand-in-hand with you hyenas, stealing from citizens of the kingdom. He’s a good guard, comes from the northern continent, new and naive but he has enough strength to overpower some of my brother’s own guards. But I laid claim to him before Falena could.”

You eyed the muscular guard up and down, looking at Ruggie who appeared just as caught off guard as you were. When your companion met your gaze, he shrugged, looking uncertain. Turning your attention back to the guard, you crossed your arms and inquired, “And what’s your say on this, big guy? You’re really okay being left here for a week in this wasteland?”

Those big pointed ears of his perked up as he peered down at you, looking the tiniest bit astonished that you would even ask his opinion on this matter. Actually, you were a little offended, because you could clearly tell he was surprised.

“I’m not gonna take you if you don’t want to come. Please, I am not as savage as your royal master here.”

That slight smirk on Leona’s face and lack of denial spoke volumes.

Jack nodded, hesitantly bowing his head in respect as he answered, “I’d be honored to be part of any deal to mend relationships between the hyena-folk and the rest of the kingdom.”

Ah. Now it all made sense. That’s how Leona was painting it out to be to his loyal guard. In reality, what Jack said wasn’t that far from the truth. Hyenas would become part of the kingdom, but probably in not the manner he expected it to happen.

“Well, that settles it, doesn’t it, chieftain?”

“I guess it does.” Shifting your attention from Leona and with one more glance at Jack, you resisted the urge to laugh at the wolf’s slowly wagging tail and determined expression. Poor guy really thought he was going to make a meaningful difference, when he was all just a pawn in the prince’s plot… “Ruggie, take Jack down to the town and show him the ropes. Give him a job that won’t get us in trouble with the king.”

Your subordinate side-eyed the guest who was looking at him expectantly, before frowning and finally waving at him to follow. “C’mon, let’s get outta here and let them talk boring politics. I’ll show you around then tell you where you’ll be working the rest of the day.”

You watched the two take their leave and head back down to the town, ignoring the way Leona purposefully stepped closer. So close that his thick locks nearly brushed against your nose when he turned to walk away. “As he said, let’s talk politics.” You watched as he sat on a large rock conveniently placed under the shade of the higher cliffs, and he gestured for you to do the same. So you sat across from him on another rock, and continued with your inquiry, “Why are you so incessant on gaining our trust?”

“Hm, I wonder…” He hummed, pulling out a bag that was hidden behind the very rock he sat on. Without any explanation as to what was inside, he dropped it at your feet. You had a decent guess as to what it was. Supplies. “Here you are. Now, I’ll be taking my leave––”

Watching him get up, you remained seated and merely murmured, “If you won’t answer me, you won’t receive my trust. Trust is a two way street, you know? So if you tell me what it is you want, we might actually make progress today instead of just ending at another standstill.” When he stood still, you murmured with a confident smile, “You want the throne, don’t you?”

Those tired green eyes carefully studied you before he grinned with equal confidence and muttered, “You aren’t the real chieftain, are you?” You slipped up and froze, your expression dropping, and that’s when he knew he had you. “The real chieftain wouldn’t take the initiative to extend conversation with me, or have the confidence to tease. And yet, the hyenas appear to treat you the same. I wonder if they have realized, hm?”

A standstill once again. You felt your throat dry, uncertain how to respond. He had you, but you had him. If you revealed his secret, then he could be banished from his homeland or worse, and he’d never ever get to sit on the throne. If he revealed your secret, you may be a goner, there was still that slim chance that the hyenas would turn on you. When he didn’t sit down, you gulped and hesitantly tried, “Your brother… what would he say?”

“You would tell him? Oh, how the thought of my big brother knowing makes me quiver with fear.” He mockingly hissed, chuckling at the end. “Falena knows I wish to be king, he just cannot comprehend the things I would do to attain the crown. Even if you could reach him, why would he have any reason to believe the word of a lowly being from the hyena clan? Is it not as you said? Trust is a two-way street.” A smirk curled on his lips, revealing his unnaturally sharp canines. “Let’s establish a bit of trust between us, little chieftain. You must know, I mean no disrespect. I have a certain… respectfor those that try so hard to be on par with me.”

You watched him carefully, feeling your nerves rise until he slowly sat back down. Only then could you breathe a sigh of relief, but you didn’t, because you had to keep your guard up around him. You couldn’t allow another little thing to slip, and give him the upperhand. Meeting his tired green eyes that never once strayed away from your form, you admitted, “I just want to survive.”

For a moment, he was quiet, looking you up and down, analyzing you as he slowly leaned against the larger stone behind him where he rested one arm. “Life's not fair, is it, my deceitful friend? I’d gamble and say wherever you’ve come from, whatever your circumstances, they were not much better than they are now, are they?”

The trial and your banishment immediately came to mind once his words reached your ears. You averted your gaze downward and frowned as you thought of how cruelly you were tossed out of the community, how they did not care what would happen to you now. And then there was everything beforehand, your personal grapples and struggles with the rigid rules of that society. It left a bitter taste on your tongue. Somehow, it's as if Leona sensed your anger and hate boiling inside. It might actually be similar to himself, perhaps that’s why he one day snapped and decided that what he desired most far outweighed the lives of those few who loved him.

At your silence, he continued, “While some are born to feast, others spend their lives in the dark, begging for scraps. The way I see it… you and I, are exactly the same. We both want to find a way out, and that way is through what my brother has.”

Your eyes shifted back up to his neutral expression. You knew what was coming. But, you were curious, “Why confide in us? Why not just challenge the king in the duel? You do have that right, since you're from royal blood just like him. Ritual combat is the easy way out, isn’t it?” You already partially knew of the answer to this, but maybe now, under these changed and special circumstances, he would give up more information.

At that, he scoffed, appearing irritated as he replied, “You think facing Falena is the easy way out? Tsk. I’d call you a fool, but you clearly aren’t that. Just ignorant at times. I wouldn’t dream of challenging him again.” Leaning forward, he folded his hands together, and then his mood began to change. That vexed frown began to steadily shift into an eager grin, an ominous one that showed hunger. Not a gluttonous hunger for food or drink or anything of that sort, it was a hunger for power, and the second prince was starved of it. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the mighty strength his royal highness has. But, I do have something he does not best me in: brains.”

There it is. The proposal. This was it.

Leona turned his head to the horizon, noting the direction of the sun that was beginning to fall, day was turning to night. Gazing at the colorful sky with you silently observing as you remained in his company. “I believe I should be going.”

What? You watched incredulously as Leona stood from his seat and stretched his arms over his head, opening his jaw to let out a big old yawn. What lax behavior for a prince. And what was his deal? Cutting things off when things were just getting good! You felt like you just watched the most anticipated episode of a soap opera only for it to end on a cliffhanger at the huge climax, but also… it felt like he finally moved the knife away from your throat, metaphorically speaking. It felt like he was doing this on purpose, so his words would haunt you until the day he returned. “That’s it?”

Noting your frown, the prince gave a lazy grin as his arms swung back against his sides. “Don’t be too depressed. I’ll be back in a few days for my guard, and to continue these talks with you. And I won’t hold your little secret over your head, as long as you don’t hold mine against me. I have a very interesting proposition that you and your kin will love, one I’m sure we can all agree to without the use of our secrets. But until next time, consider to what lengths you’d go for yourself… and your clan, of course.” Nodding his head to you in acknowledgment, he turned away and began his trek back home, but not before leaving you with these thoughts weighing heavy on your head, well over an armful of supplies to carry home, and those familiar parting words, “Be well, little chieftain.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Over the next few days, not only had Leona’s words truly haunted you and prevented you from getting sleep at night, but you also had to keep watch over the wolf on top of your usual duties.

But surprisingly, Jack fit in just fine. You weren’t sure what to expect from the guy in the first place, considering he was pretty out of place in this setting and you still had no idea what role he played in the original tale. Yet somehow, he seemed to fit right in, swiftly handling chores that would usually take multiple people hours long to complete, getting along with the village children running about and mischievously attempting to trip him up, and beginning to look up to the conniving Ruggie. Everyone was incredibly weary that a palace guard was among the community, some even questioned your decision, but when he showed he was useful, he was gladly accepted. Most even thought he was humble and pretty amusing for such a tough guy to be so dedicated to following your right-hand hyena.

Speaking of following… You had caught the wolf stalking you on multiple occasions, but never outright admitting he was tailing after you. Had you been had? Was Jack actually instructed to spy on you by that second prince? No, there was no way. Jack had rigid morals and stooping so low as to spy under the guise of a diplomatic deal to mend relations would definitely go against those morals. Although you did have to admit, it was pretty funny to see him try and sneak around to shadow you when he stuck out like a sore thumb.

One day, in the middle of his stay, you were startled to find him outside of your room, so alarmed that you mistook him for someone else with the lack of brown hyena appendages, that you nearly brought out your dagger to strike. Only for him to greet you good morning rather enthusiastically, confusing you with the change of attitude from him. It was different from what you were used to. Ruggie was fairly quiet in the mornings, he was much kinder, at least to you and those he cared for, so he’d greet you with a dopey smile and sparkle in those downturned eyes. Jack, however, was not like that. His greeting was reminiscent of that of a soldier at morning salute, not smiling but still full of energy. Then he’d only take his leave once you informed him where you would be throughout the day.

Then came the unexpected acts of service. Whenever you required assistance with a chore or had to send word out, the hyenas would listen to your commands obediently. But Jack took that to a whole other level. Whenever he had completed his tasks, he’d come to you, taking up the role of subordinate much to Ruggie’s annoyance. The only way you could get the wolf off your back and to stop him from taking over your own chores, was to give him a list of more tasks that was hopefully enough to keep him busy for the next few hours. Yet somehow despite all that, it never was enough to stop him.

At dinner time when most of the clan sat down to eat at the center of the village, he’d serve you and proudly explain that he helped hunt and gather food for the day! Just when you thought you could get away after eating, you’d be dead wrong. Because somehow, Jack would find you, and escort you home, despite your insistence that you didn’t need a personal guard to walk you home. It had only been one day, but the guy was already starting to get on your nerves. How did Leona even deal with him?

So when you were greeted by him on the final day of his stay, you decided to cut things off here.

“Look, Howl, answer me this. Why are you so insistent and respectful all of a sudden?” You crossed your arms, eyeing him warily as you continued your small interrogation. “Didn’t you nearly attack me and Ruggie the first time we met? You seemed like you hated us, so why the change? Huh?”

At your words, his ears flattened in shame and he averted his gaze down to the uneven ground, looking like a kicked puppy. “I misjudged you and your clan, I’m sorry… I’ve been trying to make it up to you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been watching you, and you’re a respectable leader, more than most give you credit for.” Did he not realize how weird that first line sounded? “I have to apologize. I fell for the rumors without knowing anything about you, and that was wrong. In the kingdom, they don’t exactly say the most… flattering things about you and the others. But they’re dead wrong!” At his sudden exclamation, your eyes widened and you stared at him as he continued his rave angrily, as if he were the one being whispered about. “You aren’t some mangy stupid rude crook! You’re fair, selfless, and diligent! And all the hyena-folk starving and living like this… they don’t deserve it!!”

“Are you done?” You frowned at his outburst, waiting until he pursed his lips together and silently nodded. His fluffy white tail hanging limply behind him. Well, he was sincere, even if everything he said wasn’t true, at least about you. You weren’t all those good things he said, you were just doing this to survive, to save and later improve your own life. However, if accepting his apology meant you would finally get some breathing room, then you had no choice but to accept. “It’s alright. You’re forgiven. Besides, complaining isn’t going to help us in any way. If that weren’t the case, you’d hear me complaining all the time.”

Jack remained quiet, slowly nodding, “You’re right… Which is why I’m going to help for as long as I can!” He what…?Looking even more determined than before, he gazed down at you and confided, “You’ll be striking up a deal with my boss, won’t you, chieftain? Now I know why he’s so incessant on sending rations every once in a while! And the king… he wouldn’t approve so that’s why he’s gotta do it in secret!”

Yeah, no, Leona was most definitely not sending supplies out of the pure goodwill of his heart.

“I want to stay here with you, and help out as much as I can! Until people won’t go hungry anymore!”

“Uh-huh…” You muttered, noticing his slowly wagging tail. He was getting way too worked up over this. “Don’t you know, if the king heard you say all that stuff, then you’d be a traitor? Hyenas and lions are sworn enemies. You’d lose everything. The only reason you’re currently not labeled as a traitor by the state, is because your boss has you here in secret.”

“I know… but Leona wants to help you guys out too, doesn’t he?”

The answer to that was… debatable. “Sure, let’s just say we both might help each other out. Why?”

“Then… I’m swearing my loyalty to you!”

You froze, stunned into silence. Without even needing to ask why, he answered.

“You know I’m from the north. I’m from a small village, a poor one. Not as poor at this one, but I know what it’s like to be in need. This place needs my help, more than the king and his kingdom do, even more than Prince Leona. So I’m going to do all I can until everyone has enough to eat and drink.” Stepping closer, you winced a bit at the rapid wagging of his tail that created a slight wind and you did not miss the instance his pointed ears perked up straight in attention. “Leona doesn’t need my help, he’s honestly stronger than me… but that doesn’t mean I’m weak! I can be useful!”

Yeah, you know. You witnessed a sparring match with him yesterday where he was able to take on five of your own men and women. Actually, with everything he’s saying now, it all made sense as to why as soon as he was victorious in yesterday’s match, he looked in your direction as if expecting praise. Total sense. Even if you did reject his pledge, you had a feeling he wasn’t exactly the type to take no for an answer.

“I’ll be your guard now, boss!” He was looking down at you expectantly again with those sparkling eyes.

Jack really had no clue what he was getting himself into, did he? You merely sighed, not willing to sit here and listen to his reasoning all morning. “Okay, you know what? Fine. Jack, welcome to the clan. Just don’t expect me to be the one to break the news to your now former boss.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Chief!”

You stirred, groaning as you begrudgingly opened your eyes, stretching out on the rough mattress and shivering from the cold of the windy outskirts. When you glanced to the side, there was Ruggie, crouching at your bedside and looking both wide-awake and alert. Blinking slowly, you muttered, “What is it, Ruggie?”

“There’s a spy! We’ve been had, boss, but they’re still around. We got them surrounded, so they’re not going anywhere.” The hyena watched as you immediately sat up, giving you space to place on your boots and grab some weapons.

You grabbed a few things, whatever seemed useful and small enough to carry on your person. Something like this hasn’t happened since you arrived, but you had a good idea on how to go about the situation from stories told to you by local residents. They said spies were much more common a few years ago, and the former clan leader could be much more… brutal in her resolve. A spy appearing now was throwing a wrench in your plan, especially if they noticed a certain white-tailed soldier here. “Who noticed them?”

“Jack. He’s the one keeping them at bay, but knowing him, he’s probably beaten them an inch within their life.”

“Shit.” Great! Just peachy! Just the opposite of what you needed. If that spy got word back to authorities that a guard of theirs had turned, it could ruin Leona’s plot. Which might mean that the hyenas would never get to live in the pride lands. When you heard running footsteps, you quickly removed the curtain separating your room from the outside. You stepped outside just in time to see a figure sprinting past your door–– that is until a thin rope was thrown at their feet, tripping them up by getting their legs tangled in the material.

Thump!

They fell over with a yelp before being dragged in the direction they had come from. In an instant, the person who had caught them and dragged them back, had tossed the remaining rope over a tall wooden pole that held a small lit candle to dimly illuminate the dark street. Jack heaved on the rope, pulling so the captor hung by their legs several feet off the ground, like some rare catch being displayed in the middle of the town.

“Y-You can’t do this to me! You’re part of the kingdom! This is treason!” The spy cried as Jack tied the rope to the pole so he could let go and they wouldn’t fall.

Slowly approaching, you announced your presence with your voice. “What do you have there, Jack?”

As soon as his ears detected your voice, he stood upright almost as if in salute as he answered, “Boss, I heard them sniffing about the storage. They planned to poison the only water source we have.” He turned to glare at the captured spy, nearly growling, “This would’ve made everyone sick, and people would’ve died.”

“Huh. I get it now.” According to your knowledge, this was not the first time something of this sort had happened before. Although the last time it happened was years ago. Several years ago, when a group of lion-folk attempted to cut off the biggest food source the hyena-folk had. Tilting your head at the spy, you noted their dark lion ears and tail. One of the few outcasted so called weak and sick lion-folk that came to the village as the only place they could go when their own turned them away.

Jack gazed down at you, murmuring, “It’s your call, boss.”

Their arms flung around wildly as they attempted to stop themselves from swinging in their captured state. From the shadows there were eyes, watching so intently, and you were sure that this snoop knew they were being watched by more than just you and the wolf beside you. They struggled to speak properly, but managed to choke out a desperate plea, “If you let me go, I-I’ll never come back here or to the kingdom! I won’t say a word about this wolf-man here. And–– I’ll tell you who sent me! But! You must promise that you won’t kill me.”

You ignored Jack’s gaze, focusing your attention on this back-stabber. You recognized them. They had been in the hunting group. Continuing your staring contest with them, watching their wide eyes and the way their chest went up and down with quick breaths in rapid succession, you finally had your reply. As calm as can be, you responded, “I swear I won’t kill you. Now, who sent you to stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong?”

Hesitating, they then groaned and relented, “The queen! The queen has been wanting to put a stop to the constant thieving and tricks by the hyenas. So she sent me to get rid of a few.”

“That’s all I need to know.” The queen was hardly mentioned in the original tale. All that you knew was that she was supposedly a strong and respectable woman, beloved by the whole kingdom, and deeply in love with the king. Oh, but now you are beginning to despise her. She too had no idea of the change that was to come. “I think it’s fair game now. She tried to take the lives of people here, so I’ll take everything from her.”

As you began to walk away and wordlessly gestured for Jack to follow, the captee began to squirming anxiously, not able to reach the rope around their ankles. They hung out like a piece of steak to dry, and for their crimes, that’s exactly how they will be treated. A piece of scrap to be torn apart bit by bit. “Wait, chief! Don’t leave me like this! We had a deal! Any crime seen has to be reported, wolf! You took that oath when you started working for the royals!”

Slowly nodding at his words, after a few more paces you noticed Jack froze. Sighing, you turned around, watching the enemy struggle like a miserable little fly caught in a web. Bending down, you picked up a sizable stone which you judged the weight of in your hands, inspecting it in your palm. “You’re right. I promised that I wouldn’t kill you. And as per his oath, Jack has to report what he saw. He can’t report what he doesn’t see.” Tossing the stone, you struck the candle atop the post, extinguishing the flame and the only light source for this block. It was night, and there was no way to see.

“W-Wait, what are you doing?”

The glowing eyes of the watching hyenas seemed to brighten in the sudden darkness. Multiple pairs of eyes steadily creeping closer to the defenseless traitor.

“Oh, wow, too bad. The light went out. Guess we can’t see.”

You ignored the traitorous lion’s cries and begs for mercy, a rapturous laughter breaking out from the multiple spectators. Their giggles rung in your ears, the pure multitude of them overpowering the fearful shrieks of the one criminal. You managed to get the former royal guard to look ahead instead of back behind him, escorting the wolf further down the road because from your room you were certain you would still be able to hear the carnage about to take place. As Jack went a few steps ahead before taking a turn at a block, you lingered behind, looking back to see the enemy screaming and wriggling wildly but to no avail. They continued to hang from their feet as the glowing eyes from the darkness crept closer and closer, no doubt ready to strip them for all they had and give them a punishment for their betrayal that could only make them yearn for the sweet release of death.

You followed with Jack, getting far away, enough so you could no longer hear the pained screeches and wails of misery. Once far enough, you questioned, “Did you know? About the queen?”

Jack whipped his head towards you, his white hair rising a bit. He looked as if you asked him if he poisoned the water. Betrayed. “No!! I’d never do something as low as that!”

“It’s just a question.”

He frowned deeply, ears flattening as per usual when he was somber. “Why did you do that…?”

Stopping in your tracks beside him, you looked up at him, able to see his features well on these dimly lit streets. “What, that back there? If we let them go, they would’ve reported you anyway. I know their type. Besides, I have to help out my own, don’t I? That’s my job.”

His expression went blank, but you could practically see the words being processed in his head. The more it registered, the more his ears perked up and the faster his bushy tail wagged. It was difficult for him to hide that slight curve tugging at the corner of his lips, no matter how hard he tried to remain stone-faced. “Your own…” That meant acceptance, didn’t it? “Right, I understand now… Thanks, chief.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Maybe saying that to Jack was a mistake. His insistence on being your closest subordinate had only worsened, if that were even possible. He burned through chores and tasks even faster, sticking by your side like glue. As you tried to escape his presence at least for a minute, you found yourself on the outskirts of the village by the abandoned bones of giant creatures and in the dark rocky valley where most lion-folk wouldn’t dare venture.

In between two small cliffs, you were abruptly yanked up in a tiny cranny where a familiar hyena quickly motioned to keep quiet. It was a small little nook he found off the ground, a cool shaded perch nestled between the larger rocks. Holding a single finger up to his lips in a shushing motion, he grinned when he heard the wolf calling your name was getting further and further away. After a moment, he finally relaxed, sighing loudly, “Man, I thought that beefcake would never leave! Seriously, who’s he think he is? He’s practically trying to rob me of my top spot! I’ve worked my tail off for this place beside you, you know? Jack won’t ever understand, he could only dream of getting on my level with you! I kept my promise, you know.”

“Hm?” When you turned your head to look over at him, he was gazing at you with those gray eyes, watching you intently. Before a content looking smile steadily overcame his features.

“My promise, you remember, don’t ya? When you used to take care of us and the other kids, just because you were the oldest and the strongest. So you’d go out and make those dangerous rounds into the kingdom all on your own, and you’d always come back with just enough food for us to share. But you were always injured somehow.” In this small space, he had to sit curled up, bending his knees but using them as a spot to lean the side of his head against. He continued to smile at you, giggling at those mysterious memories in his head. “It worried us sick when you left, and when you came back scratched up we couldn’t stop cryin’. So one day, I promised you that I’d get stronger to help you out and… Well, I’ve kept that part of the promise. Now the only part left is the part where I swore we’d live in a huge fancy palace one day where you didn’t have to go out and do the hunting!”

So Ruggie was close to the real chief, even before they became leader of the clan… It made you feel slightly guilty for taking up this moniker. But you had no choice when you were tossed into this world with no warning. However, even if Ruggie couldn’t fulfill this childish promise, you would. It was the least you could do, not just for yourself, but for the rest of the hyena-folk. He helped you so much in that first week. Leaning your head against the wall, you responded quietly, “I’ll make sure you get to live in a palace someday soon, Ruggie. I promise.”

“Don’t say that, or I’m gonna hold you up to it! Besides, I promised first. Make up your own.” He laughed, playfully bumping his shoulder against yours as a cheeky grin spread on his lips. After a moment, he waited, gazing at you impatiently as he tilted his head and rested it back against his knees. “Well? C’mon, tell me, what’re you gonna promise to me?”

“What should I promise you…?” Tapping your finger against your chin, you pondered on the thought. What would Ruggie want? Scratch palace off the list, because he already claimed that. An abundance of food seemed like an option, but you rather not risk promising him that and watching the land run out of resources. Promising him a place in the pride lands was a bit too much on the nose. It would just make you seem suspicious when you would eventually get all the hyena-folk access to the pride lands. Finally, after a few moments of thinking with no ideas, you shrugged and inquired, “Well, what do you want, Ruggie? What can I give you?”

That cheeky grin grew wider, stretching across his face as he averted his gaze, beating around the bush and drawing out his words for further suspense. “Welllll… Actually, there is something I can think of, call me greedy.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, feeling your own smile begin to form. “Okay, greedy, what is it?”

If you took a peek, you could see his short brown tail moving side-to-side rapidly as he lifted his head, “Swear you won’t laugh? Even if it is mushy and stuff?”

Amused, you gave a soft chuckle, “I swear, I won’t laugh. Even if it’s mushy.”

Shifting so he was facing you with his legs crossed, he began somewhat hesitantly, almost nervously, before gaining a bit of confidence the more he went on. “I want you to promise me that I’ll always be your number two, and you’ll always let me stay beside you.”

Raising an eyebrow, it suddenly hit you. Ruggie was jealous of Jack! At that realization, a small laugh escaped your lips as you poked him, pestering him for a response as you teased, “Aww, were you jealous of that big bad wolf~? Is that it? I should’ve known! You’ve always been sticking by me, then Jack comes and ruins your flow. Who would've guessed?”

“Shut––! I’m not jealous!” He hissed, growing embarrassed. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh, you lyin’ little––!”

Laughing and giggling reached your ears, causing you and Ruggie to both freeze. His semi-round ears perked up, both of you listening intently to the voices. It sounded like two children, but it wasn’t familiar. Leaning your ear closer to the stone wall, you listened to the voices that were getting closer and closer, almost directly below the hiding spot you were in.

“This is it. Just like my uncle said!” One of the voices whisper-yelled, as if they were worried about whatever may lurk just around the corner, or just above them. It sounded like a young boy. But none of the children you had encountered in the village sounded like him, and you met practically all of them.

The second voice piped up. It was the voice of a young girl. “It’s so creepy… People really live out here?” That implied they were children not from the outskirts.

Then you were reminded of a scene from the original story. The young prince, son of the majestic king, heard a secret from his uncle, the second prince. The second prince told him of a graveyard full of bones among the outskirts, just past the kingdom’s reach, where only the bravest of souls ventured and returned from. The young kid prince, being such an ambitious child, foolishly snuck out to the outskirts with his friend. There, they were attacked by the hyenas, for the outskirts were their territory. The only reason the two children and royal attendant who arrived late to save them, were not killed, was because the majestic king arrived just in time to fend off attacks and warn the hyenas to never attack his son again. That scene was about to happen, right now.

As the two children, the kid prince and his friend, went back and forth, you and Ruggie exchanged glances. Steadily a grin spread on the hyena’s face as he mouthed: fresh meat.

Before he could even think about moving, you held up your hand, motioning him to keep still and quiet as you detected an additional pair of steps. Steps coming quickly, heavier, meaning it was someone in a rush. Someone heavier than a child. “Wrong! The only thing we’ll be doing is going home! We’re way beyond the boundaries of the kingdom!”

The royal attendant that served the king himself, there was no mistaking it. It was happening. Silently, you and your right-hand hyena listened to the slight bickering and scolding occurring between the young royal and the attendant. As much as you wished to end the king’s royal lineage here, which would allow Leona to take the throne once Falena passed, that would take far too long. The kid prince couldn’t die here. He needed to remain alive, that way you could be sure to kill two lions with one stone later. Besides, killing the two later by staging the accident was much more preferable to killing the young prince in cold blood while the king remained alive and could wreak havoc in revenge.

Ignoring the continuous conversation down below, you looked over at Ruggie who appeared antsy. “Now?” He whispered impatiently.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to face the majestic king alone if he really was strong enough to make people fear him. So, turning your attention to Ruggie, you replied in a hushed tone, “Backup first. No wolf in this royal business. And I want them alive.” You grinned, giving him the sign to go. “Scare them good.”

The royal attendant quickly attempted to usher them away, but the two children stubbornly refused to budge. “Right now, we’re all in very real danger––!”

Interrupting him was a whistle. A slow quiet whistle in an ominous tune, carried on by the wind which seemed to make it echo throughout the entire area, bouncing off the bones and walls of the rocky terrain and carrying it beyond. Any hyena-folk or a wolfman within close distance would be able to pick up on the whistle with their ears, and those of the clan might be able to decipher its message. Backup needed. Only hyenas, no wolf or lions. Capture guests alive.

The whistling had caused the three unexpected guests to become paralyzed in fear, you could see the hairs on the back of their neck were raised in alarm. First they heard Ruggie, who’s whistling had turned to cackling at their expressions of freight.

You too couldn’t contain your laughter at their pure fear. “Heh, Ruggie, when I said give them a good scare, I didn’t mean to the point of making their souls leave their bodies.”

The hyena shrugged, giggling as he followed you when you stalked closer to the unexpected guests. “Gee, boss, what can I say? It’s not my fault it’s as easy as stealing candy from a baby.”

You ignored the other two, and honed in on the kid prince, the protagonist, the hero of the story. Too young to fight back, yet one day he’d be powerful enough to defeat even Leona. “How unexpected to be greeting the son of a king.”

The three had nowhere to run, not when the reinforcements arrived. Soon, they were surrounded by a good number of hyena-folk. One thing you learned about hyena-folk is that they were small and gaunt due to lack of nutrition, but they worked frighteningly well together in groups to defeat much bigger and stronger opponents. As you focused solely on the little prince, you examined his features as he bravely stood in front of his friend. There was a healthy glow in his bronze cheeks, and his hair was unlike his Uncle Leona’s. His short messy locks were thick strands of a bright orange that faded into yellow, and he had big brown eyes that never broke eye contact with you. “Two children and a servant of the king’s. I know exactly who you are.”

The royal attendant interjected, stepping between you and the two lion-kids. “Let them go, chief! We did not mean to step on your land. We will leave immediately!” No matter how he spoke, you could tell he was scared but his tone and the way he stepped back each second when you didn’t stop moving forward, forcing the two younglings behind him to step back as well. Had he been a hornbill bird like in the original tale, his feathers would surely be all ruffled by now. “If you do this, you will start a war with Falena!”

“Hyenas and lions have been at war since anyone can remember.” Removing your knife from its sheath, you gripped its handle in your hand. In its reflection, you could see Ruggie and the other hyena folk appearing fidgety and ready to sink their claws at any given moment, while dread and terror crept onto the faces of the three in front of you. “But with this… I can cause the kingdom a tiny shred of grief, just as they have caused the village a world of pain.” All you wanted to do was knick them, a cut small enough to draw blood, but when you lunged forward, the royal attendant threw the long blue sleeves of his cloak at you, effectively blinding you but only for a moment.

As soon as you lunged, so did the others. Those hyenas closest to you, instantly removed the royal attendant and pinned the squirming man to the ground. When you could finally see again, it revealed you were correct on your guess. The two lions had run, with some of your own chasing behind them until they were led to the underground tunnels. Placing your knife back at your hip, you scowled at the royal attendant now restrained and unable to help those he was tasked to protect. “Keep him there, don’t let him go. The rest of you, after them!”

From where you remained, you could hear and see the hyena-folk running about, in and out of the maze of tunnels. They were small, yes, but the children were smaller, so they’d no doubt get away until they were cornered, just as they did in the original plot. But this was exactly what needed to happen for the plot progress. There was no point in changing the plot now. It was best to change the plot when you could reap the most, and that was not now. It was a loss required to win in the grand scheme of things.

It didn’t take long for the two lion-children to reemerge from a hole in the ground, leading the two to become surrounded. The two huddled together, fearfully scanning the faces of the dozens of hyena-folk that surrounded them.

Three.

The young prince bared his baby fangs, letting out a squeak of a roaring war cry. A pathetic example, probably puny compared to his father. Speaking of which, he should be here soon, judging by how the royal attendant was gone meaning he had somehow escaped the grasp of his hyena captors. That attendant would probably be sending out an alert by now.

Two.

You watched, unimpressed as the hyena-folk present broke out into laughter at the cub’s tiny yeowl, their heightened anxiety only doing more to add to the hyena’s howling cackles. Even Ruggie was doubled over in laughter, but you knew better than to lower your guard right now, especially as a few of the underlings poked and prodded for the little prince to do his war cry once again.

One.

You grabbed Ruggie’s collar and pulled him back just the young prince opened his mouth, and a much powerful louder war cry like a terrifying roar could be heard that echoed in the space all around them. Just in time, you watched as the hyena-folk stepped back in alarm at the sudden noise. Towards the back of the crowd, you could make out the scene of some of your own men and women being flung to the side like rag dolls by a mightier figure. It was clear by just that glimpse, that this was King Falena, and he was stronger than even Prince Leona and former royal guard Jack. You couldn’t watch these people get hurt anymore, so you whistled, instantly signaling your kin to back away as the lionman’s ears perked up at the noise from your direction.

When he rushed forward to stand closer to the two children, you nodded at your kin to step further away, giving him plenty of space and no one within radius to attack. Their brown and black semi-round ears were flattened as they kept their distance, none daring to attack, not that you would make them right now. You felt Ruggie’s hand on your back, he too kept low and didn’t engage.

When the king’s brown-eyed gaze turned to you, it held nothing but pure fury. Now that you were looking at the majestic king of the tales, he really did look like his son, the similarities were uncanny. But King Falena didn’t look anything like his brother, Prince Leona. Falena had bright brown eyes that must’ve been usually filled with kindness whenever his son wasn’t in danger, Leona had watchful green eyes that felt they were judging you with every move you made. Falena had a long warm-colored mane with sand-colored fur on his lion traits, while Leona had a dark mane with dark brown fur on his lion traits. Falena had a stature and was built with an incredible strength that must’ve even greatly surpassed your wolf guard, and while yes Leona had a sure strength himself he was only a few inches shorter than Jack. It really was no wonder Leona had never won the crown through ritual combat. No matter how you saw it, Leona couldn’t beat Falena through a battle of brawn. However, a battle of brains may have a different outcome…

“If you ever come near my son again––”

You stood your ground as he stood close, his face merely inches in front of yours. Behind your back you gripped the dagger in your palm, resisting the urge to plunge the weapon through his eye. Imagine that, if you could give the king a scar matching his disgraced brother. It took everything not to snap back, attack him for all he and his kingdom had done by leaving the hyena-folk to rot. But somehow, you didn’t lunge forward. You only nodded slowly, answering firmly, “No, Falena, never again.” Patient. You needed to be patient this time.

“You’ve been warned, chieftain.” Falena growled before turning around, giving his son one last firm look before silently escorting them through the crowd of hyenas that parted ways for them to take their leave.

Once they were gone, you gazed around, seeing the hyena-folk help the injured and wounded by Falena’s short rampage. Behind you, Ruggie emerged, moving in front of you to do a once over, despite knowing you had barely even touched anyone throughout that entire ordeal. “Are you good?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Perfectly fine…” Just then, your gaze traveled up to the cliffs. High on the top of the rocky terrain, was that familiar lionman, the second prince, gazing down at the scene with a slight frown. When his green eyes flitted over to you, you frowned in turn as a small smile appeared on his face before he promptly disappeared away from sight. “Ruggie, you stay and help the others. I have to have a little talk with our prince friend.”

It didn’t take very long to reach the top of the cliff where you found the second prince lounging in the shade. Leona didn’t spare you a glance, and he didn’t even open his eyes, but you knew he was awake. When his ear slowly flickered, he sighed, “Why didn’t you kill them?” When you blinked, his eyes were open, those green orbs gazing at you intently. “You had the perfect opportunity. Yet you hesitated.”

Begrudgingly, you sat down across from him, frowning at his lazy form. “Because I know you have a better plan. A plan that will get rid of both Falena and his son.”

A sly grin made itself visible on the curve of his lips, and you felt that you made a mistake before the words even left his lips. “I never once told you that, or anybody about that.” Shit. Sitting up before pushing himself up to his feet, he slowly began to circle you as he mused, “You know, you always seem to know what’s going to happen, before it happens. Somehow, you were able to get this far without any of your clan noticing you aren’t the true chief. You’re always looking at me with this wise-ass look, like you’re so proud that you can predict what comes next. When we first met, for a brief second there was a look of… disbelief on your face when you kept staring at me. After pondering on the possibilities after our last meeting, I think I figured you out. It sounds insane, but then again, I’m not completely sane if you haven’t noticed by now. But you aren’t even from this world, are you? You had this foreign scent on you when we met, it was something I couldn’t name even if I tried, but now all you smell like is hyena. Then I looked into it. I went down to the kingdom’s marketplace, I even contracted merchants to bring me sweet-smelling products from all around the world. But nothing matched that scent you had on the first day, nothing at all. At least… nothing in this world.”

You went still as he stopped pacing, and opted to plop close down beside you. Incredibly close, so much that his arm that propped up half his upper weight was against your arm. You could feel his warmth, but his close proximity made you squirm in place. You didn’t move an inch though, because even scooting over an inch would be giving him a sign that you would bend to his will.

As he leaned against you, you glared at his amused expression. That cocky smirk was on his lips, because he knew he had you in his claws. When he spoke, he was so close that he only had to speak in a low and husky whisper. “This time, I brought a proposal instead of an offering. But I want to hear you tell me what it is I’m planning.”

You were silent.

“Well?”

Under the pressure, you finally relented. “Fine. But only if you answer one question I have.”

It only took a second of consideration until he hummed, “Of course. That’s only fair, chieftain.”

Taking a deep breath, you averted your eyes away from intense green-eyed gaze, attempting to forget the fact that his face was literally inches beside yours. There was no point in hiding it from him anymore, was there? He already knew everything. “My guess is that you’ll want to do it in the gorge. You’ll have myself and some of the other hyenas start a panic with wild wildebeest grazing on the grass. There’ll be a stampede, and you’ll have the little prince down there waiting. When his old man goes to save him, you’re hoping he and the prince get crushed by the stampede. If not, at least it’ll weaken them enough to finish off quietly and stage it as an accident.” When you glanced at him, you could see his grin had grown. “Did I get all that right?”

“Everything down to the smallest minute detail.” He chuckled, somehow finding this tense exchange amusing. His tail swished slowly side to side, and you couldn’t help but notice how pleased he looked with himself. “Now, your question.”

You paused, carefully considering how to go about wording this specific inquiry. All the while he continued to watch you, never once taking his eyes off you. Until finally, you had it. “Why’ve you kept me alive? If you knew I wasn’t who I said I was, you could’ve told the hyena-folk by now. You would’ve been a trustworthy figure then, at least in their eyes. They’d follow you, just like you want. You never needed my help. Besides, if you knew I knew stuff about the future, wouldn’t that mean I was a threat to your plan?”

“You see me for the wonder I am.” Noticing your confusion, he continued, “You don’t know what it’s like to be the second born, when your entire kingdom scorns you just because you were born a few years late. But now…” He chuckled, holding your chin between his fingers and forcing you to look him in the eye. “With meticulous planning and suffering through years of denial, I’ll become King. I’ll get everything I ever deserved and more. And should you help me achieve my vision, I promise you, you will do more than just survive. You shall thrive. But without me, you won’t get a thing… If it's agreed, shall we go then? Let’s inform your beloved little village of the coup of the century that will take place tomorrow.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

To say the clan rejoiced at the news felt like an understatement. They were elated, it led to partying and laughing all night, all of them eager to follow your command and the second prince’s plan if it meant that they could finally improve their way of living. Even Jack, who you thought you might have to deal with his refusal due to his strong morals and all, only silently listened to the declaration by Leona before approaching you and announcing he’d follow what you decided.

It wasn’t much of a choice anyways. You’d get to survive and live in splendor, and you’d improve the lives of so many hyena-folk that may have later died of sickness or starvation, all in exchange for the life of a king and his son. When the day arrived, you sent out the able-bodied hyena-folk to prepare. Burn the wild wall of thorns between the cliffs and the desert, have a few posted at every potential escape route, place watchouts on top of high cliffs so they could see everything, and above all was the warning from you to the clan. Do not let the young prince escape, because if he does, then hope for the lion-folk will live on and he may one day grow to be as powerful as his father.

When everything was prepared, you waited. You had assembled a small team to rile up the wildebeest, which consisted of yourself, Ruggie, Jack, and two other small groups of three hyena-folk currently positioned on other sides. You would frighten the creatures simultaneously, flanking from the back, the right, and the left, forcing the gigantic horde to go down into the gorge where they’d create a deadly stampede, trampling anything in their path.

Jack gazed at you silently, before he murmured quietly, as if to himself, “Is it alright to really be doing this…? To kill the king and the prince? I know you said it was, and I trust you, but…”

“Jack, you’re way too soft. It’s an eat or be eaten world! If you’re so worried about it, think about it this way. Those two lives will allow countless hyenas and outcasts like me and you to survive.” Ruggie scolded, watching as the white wolf slowly nodded. While waiting for the signal, he glanced at the wildebeest grazing on the grass before looking at you. “You know, I knew you were ruthless, boss, but going along with Leona’s despicable plan? I mean, not that I’m opposed to it, but it was surprising at first, is all.”

“I do whatever I have to for…” Me. “You and the others.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a figure on an opposing cliff. It was Leona, who was staring you down with a devious sort of smile. He must’ve already left his kid nephew down in the gorge. Quick to change the subject, you announced, “There. Let’s go. Jack, signal to the others.”

Obediently he fulfilled his command, standing upright from his spot leaning against the boulders and rocks they hid among. When he whistled, it rang in the air, immediately alerting not only your allies on the other side of the herd but also the wildebeest that shot up in alert.

It took one stone from you, a stone tossed at full speed, smacking the hind leg of one of the closer wildebeest, causing it to let out a deep pained noise and instinctively react by kicking about wildly, causing a chain reaction of confusion and alarm to those around it, which only spread further and further. Jack’s whistle was the sign to attack, and having already made the first move, you stood back as you watched Ruggie, Jack, and the two other hyena groups jump out of their hiding places and cause even more of a panic throughout the entire herd as they scared the beasts with their spears and knives.

You watched as the wildebeest began to scatter in the opposite direction of yourself and the clan members, leading them right into the gorge. They moved as a group. One thing about wildebeest, is that they traveled in herds with numbers ranging anywhere from a few hundred to a couple of thousands. They were so numerous and sizable creatures that caused the ground to shake when startled and running. It would be very very difficult to survive a stampede of such magnitude, maybe that’s why Leona chose such a demise in the first place.

When all of the wildebeest had been chased off the flat and into the gorge, you stood beside your subordinates and paced at the edge. Ruggie and the others looked excited, almost as if they were having fun, especially because they managed to catch and kill one of the straggling creatures. Jack looked down at the gorge, frowning but doing nothing else until he inquired, “What next, boss?”

You couldn’t be at ease until you knew that both King Falena and his prince son were dead. You didn’t want to imagine the prince getting away, which would lead you to years of sleepless nights as you would have to plot a way on how to track him down through the desert and send people to kill him. “Good job, everyone. Now, go out to individual posts along the desert. Make sure the entire perimeter is covered. The king and the prince cannot leave that gorge alive, got it?”

A chorus of hums and giggles responded, “Yes, chief.”

Once they all departed and you were alone, you slid down about halfway into the gorge. You weren’t on the ground floor, so you weren’t concerned, but for now to avoid being seen, you would keep behind boulders and rocks to blend into the environment. At this point in the story, the second prince would feign horror as he goes to inform the majestic king of the stampede occurring with the young prince trapped within the gorge. The two brothers would rush to the gorge to save the young prince. For now all you could do was follow the cloud of dust and stragglers the stampede left behind, keeping low and against the wall so you would not be spotted.

The gorge was massive, so you continued for a few minutes, all the while reciting the rest of the story from your childhood in a low mutter. “When Falena and Leona get there, they see the kid prince hanging onto a branch during the stampede. Falena jumps in to save his son, dodging almost every hit by the wildebeest. As he’s right next to the branch, he’s hit, knocked down and the branch breaks. Before the kid prince can fall to his death, his dear old dad jumps and catches him. When he lands, Falena is hit again, dropping his son. Falena manages to get up and pick up his kid, putting him on a ledge right before he’s swept away in the stampede. The prince watches in horror, looking for his dad, until he sees Falena jump out and cling to the steep wall of the gorge. He struggles to climb up, obviously weak from being hit before, but he reaches the top and there at the top… is Leona.”

Leona. There was Leona across the gorge standing upright and looking down at the figure beneath him as if they were nothing but a speck of dirt on his feet. Just below him, nails dug into the rocky walls and slipping, was King Falena. You couldn’t hear what they were saying over the thousands of hooves stomping against the ground, but you didn’t have to hear a word in order to know what was going on. This was the moment where the majestic king died. In an instant, Leona lunged forward slightly, digging his nails into the flesh on the back of the king’s palm, which caused him to emit a roar of pain. You knew what came next. You averted your gaze to the side as you heard his plummeting scream, and then it was silenced, drowned out by the continuous running wildebeest. Long live the king.

One down, one more to go. The cloud of dust left behind in the stampede’s destructive wake, concealed the bottom of the gorge from your sight. You need to get down there now. You needed to see Falena dead with your own two eyes, and you needed to make sure that the kid prince he left behind would not live to see tomorrow. Upon finding your way in the dust, you squint to see past the sandy clouds, and one of the first things you could make out upon searching the ground was the king’s motionless body on its side right under the broken branch. Yet neither of the princes were anywhere in sight.

Continuing forward, you felt your nerves spike. That kid prince must have ran–– and you could only hope the story would truly divert from its original course here and now. You could only pray to whatever cruel god there was that allowed you to be thrown into this world, that all your preparations worked to stop the runaway prince.

When you heard a footstep, you froze, hand hovering over the dagger at your hip as the approaching shadow in the cloud of dust got closer and closer. However, when it was revealed to be Leona from the ashes, your shoulders slumped, relieved of the tension. No breath of relief, because you could not be relieved when knowing that the job was not done yet. However, that tension immediately went straight back into your system when you noticed the red on his hands. By now he had already noticed you, he probably was aware of your presence far before you were aware of his. Hesitantly you gestured to the blood on his hands. “What’s that from…?”

“A finished job. It’s not mine.” He answered with an ominous smirk. Steadily he stepped closer, before announcing in a melodramatic tone, “My brother’s death is a terrible tragedy, but to lose my nephew who was swept away in the stampede and whose body was never found… For me, it’s a deep and personal loss.” No longer could he hold in his laughter as he stood right in front of you and concluded, “So it is with a heavy heart that I assume the throne. Yet out of the ashes of this tragedy, we shall rise!”

You frowned, prying your eyes away from his hands and to his face full of wicked mirth. “And the body?”

Sighing, he rolled his eyes but answered in a slight chuckle, “I knew you’d worry about that. So I had your clan dispose of the body, in the desert where no one will find him and his remains will be plucked by the vultures.”

At that moment you froze, eyes going wide. That… That might have been the fate that would have awaited you…

When he stepped closer, so close that you were practically up against his chest. You winced when he tapped the bottom of your chin until you looked up at him, painting the bottom half of your face red with the blood smeared on his fingers. Blood that was not his, whether it belonged to the king or his son, you weren’t entirely sure, and you’d rather not know. “That won’t happen to you, I wouldn’t let it happen.” He spoke, as if he sensed your current fears. Just then, another delighted smirk grew on his face and that familiar spark of desire reignited in his eyes. He had the throne, the kingdom, what else did he want? What else could he possibly gain? “I promised you that you’d thrive, didn’t I? Well, now that the throne belongs to me, I’ll make good on that promise. Your reward is the opportunity to be my royal consort.”

Your stomach dropped, feeling dread settle in the pits of your gut as his thumb moved to rub small circles on your cheek, covering you in more red. Only a small choked whisper could escape your throat. “What?”

“Be my consort.” He repeated casually, looking down at your stunned expression with amusement that made him chortle. “What better way to unite two, lion-folk and hyena-folk, then by matrimony between two leaders? You get a life of splendor and continue to hold power, while I reign as king with you by my side. It’s like… killing two lions with one stone, isn’t that right, my Little Chieftain?”

#twst #twisted wonderland #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #jack howl #twst jack #yandere jack howl #ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #yandere ruggie bucchi #leona kingscholar #twst leona #yandere leona kingscholar #Savanaclaw #damnation twst au

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just-jordie-things · 1 month

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how do u think megumi would react overtime as he gets used to you bringing him flowers every so often?

no particular occasion, you just wanted to bring him flowers. what do you think he does with them?

oh lawd this is so cute~~

the first time you give megumi a small handful of wildflowers you'd picked while walking around on campus. you hadn't necessarily intended on giving them to him specifically.. you just happened to be in a rush to go somewhere and he just happened to be there and net thing he knew you were shoving them into his hands and shouting 'for you!' before running off again.

despite the slight warmth in his face, megumi hadn't thought too much of it. it was just coincidence, just you being your usual kinda forgetful self and gifting him whatever happened to be in your hands. it very well could have been a gum wrapper, couldn't it?

the small pile of flowers sit in a sad lump on his desk for a couple days, they're shriveled up and a bit smelly. when he throws them out he still doesn't think much of it- besides how odd it is that flowers can have such a rancid smell once they've whithered.

and then it happens again. this time you're walking back from a particularly easy assignment. a random yellow flower catches your eye and before megumi could tell you not to pick flowers from their well placed beds in town, you're carefully plucking it from the dirt and raising it to your noise. his scold dies on his tongue when you tell him it smells nice and bring it to his face for him to sniff as well. he feels like an idiot, but he finds himself leaning forward for a whiff. he doesn't say anything- but he doesn't deny the pleasant, light scent of spring. you must be able to read his thoughts, because you laugh, before breaking off a part of the stem so you could reach up to tuck it behind his ear. megumi winces at this, unfamiliar with the feeling and unsure of whether or not he should stop you. but you seem delighted when the bright flower stays against his mess of dark hair, so he tries to ignore the whole thing completely.

the nameless yellow flower sits in a small cup of water on his nightstand for a week. eventually the small amount of sunlight and water isn't enough to keep it in bloom, and once it's petals have fallen all around the base of the cup, megumi decides it's time to toss that one out too. but at least he tried with that one, right?

he's not sure exactly when it becomes a habit, but soon it appears every time you approach him, there's a gift of nature in your hands. sometimes it's just dandelions, but sometimes it's pretty flowers you've found on your walks or assignments. there's a few times you've even pulled a half wilted flower out of your pocket- it's petals already torn and it's stem weak and bent. you're only bashful when giving him the less than perfect flowers, but megumi accepts them all the same. with a mostly hidden smile and gentle hands as he takes them from your gentle fingers.

not all of your flowers go into cups, although he does keep them in rotation, replacing the old with the new when he deemed fit. but he only kept a few on his nightstand at a time. he couldn't have anyone noticing his habit of actually keeping your silly gifts after all. it'd be best if no one figured out his tiny, barely there soft spot for you.

so naturally, he kept the rest of your flowers pressed between the pages of his books, where they'd be best hidden. every book on his shelf became littered in the covers and pages with perfectly kept wildflowers. to the point where he had to be careful when opening them, just to be sure none fell out where they risked being lost or ruined. megumi was very thoughtful in his flower placement, taking great care to press them neatly in place.

because of course he couldn't have any of them go to waste, not when the lovely, delicate gifts were given to him by the most lovely thing of all.

#i love secret softie megumi <3 #megumi brainrot #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader

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bakerstreethound · 9 months

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Etched in Stone

Relationship: Benedict Bridgerton x afab!reader

Warnings: 18+ spicy times (MINORS DNI), flirting, fingering, mutual pining, childhood friends to best friends to lovers, exposed ankles, fluff, softness, gentle/possessive Benedict, brief mention of alcohol and slightly tipsy momma Violet Bridgerton makes an appearance

Summary: Bored at yet another party hosted at Bridgerton House, Benedict seeks solace (and a strong drink) in the quiet of Anthony's office only to find you there, one of his oldest friends and buried feeling resurface.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 4.1k+

A/N: I wrote this fic for my lovely friend @frostandflamesfanfic a while back but wanted to take my time posting it because this was such a joy to work on and wanted to savor every moment. El was there for the beginning of this story so it's only fair I dedicate it to them as well. Thank you for trusting me to write one of your beloved fictionals. I drew a lot of inspiration from both book and show Benedict. Any era inaccuracies are fault of my own as well as where Benedict's room is located in the house. Graphic by @firefly-graphics . Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!!

His piercing gaze hadn’t left you all evening, making your shoulders rise on the verge of danger, but the way his gaze bore into yours, and you couldn’t deny the shallow thrill or the pulsing in your heart.

You hadn't wanted to come to the ball and despite your family’s protests and prodding you found yourself at the Bridgetron ball, dressed in the prior season’s attire, not caring about the gossip. It wasn’t like you had anything to prove to the ton or Lady Whistledown. A soft smile graced your lips at the thought and you round a corner, sipping on your lemonade, weary and the night was still young. You longed to be reading one of the adventures in your novels, whisking you away to another place and time, holding hands with your beloved.

******

Benedict sighed for the third consecutive time in a row, making Eloise roll her eyes. “Brother, surely you can find some enjoyment from this party.”

“When I tell you, I’ll let you know,” he grumbled, watching the couples swirl along the dance floor, his eldest brother Anthony pulling Kate close in his arms, a bright smile lighting her face. Benedict tried to hide the disdain, the ache resounding in his chest. He’d rather be locked away in his room, working on his art, perfecting the curve of a hand, the slope of a shoulder, silk between thighs. He shook his head, groaning before tossing back a glass of lemonade he’d picked up during yet another turn around the room.

It did little to cool his blood.

When he made his way to the study, he half expected to see Colin there sneaking a glass of Anthony’s secret stash, however, he didn’t expect you draped across a chair, nose buried in a book, legs curled over the arms of the chair, exposing your ankles. The smirk crawled along his lips for a fraction, enraptured by your stone-cold expression and you flipped another page, not uttering a sound. He poured himself a drink, trying not to chuckle, and watched you intently.

“Do you intend to stare at me all evening, Mister Bridgerton? Or are you going to ask me to pull myself together to dance in front of the entirety of the ton?”

The drink almost lodges itself in his throat as he choked it down, the bewildered expression on his face the cause of your pursed lips. For the love, you were laughing at him!

“Cat got your tongue, Benedict?”

Oh, it was more than the cat that got his tongue, he wanted to swallow yours, combat your wit, fill himself with your words and beauty tenfold.

Good gracious, what had become him?

Here you were and he’d been watching you like a hawk all evening barely making a move and your ankles were there, tempting him, tricking him, enticing him. How ready he was to fall, the hold you had on him was indescribable. He’d been this way since he first laid eyes on you all those months ago. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on you. But how he wanted to fall with you, drag you along the dance floor show you off for the world to see. No, he would do no such thing.

He would enshrine you in a painting, etch you into stone, a carving upon his heart.

Warmth flooded your body as you continued watching Benedict pace around the room and you doubted he realized he had done so. A bedraggled state was becoming of him, accentuated by his ruffled hair as he muttered under his breath, stopping to refill his glass with something stronger than lemonade.

You smirk, perusing the pages of your novel, which sparked an idea.

“Benedict?”

Your voice, oh your voice was a guiding light, his anchor, steadying him through the whirlwind of a storm conjuring in his head.

“Yes?” His gaze met yours, and he stopped pacing standing before you and giving you a good look at his chest, the rise and fall of his breaths, reminding you to steady yours.

You crane your neck up, looking him in the eye. “Read to me.” It’s a simple request, but you hide the quivering of your lip. He leaned in closer, engulfing you in his scent, causing you to bite your cheek to keep from groaning. It was heady and intoxicating and it was all him.

“What?”

Focus, you ninny! You cursed softly to yourself gathering your thoughts as you clung to your novel.

“I asked if you would read to me. Literature is the art of words is it not?” You shifted in your seat, your feet now resting flat on the floor as any respectable proper person would have done from the start. You let out a soft groan when the balls of your feet touch the floor, and he leaned down further, his index finger barely stroking along your jawline. Your ankles were definitely covered now, but you suspected his reaction didn’t stem from that.

He cocked his head. “You would prefer me to read romance to you rather than show you firsthand?”

“Why ever would I need to experience such things firsthand? I have everything I need here.” Your stomach fluttered, almost dropping when he kneeled before you, his fingers brushing along your sides before grasping your thighs and squeezing gently.

“You do have one thing right for this evening. We have everything we need right here.” Another squeeze of your thigh sent your mind reeling.

“Does one intend to enact upon such desires, Mister Bridgerton? Or does one who reads such novels suppress them?”

His hands traveled further up your thighs a silent challenge, one you were not backing down from despite the pounding of your heart. You were here with Benedict Bridgerton alone in Anthony’s study, someone you had known for years, a constant fixture throughout your youth, the source of countless daydreams and now, rather passion-induced dreams.

“Do you know how long I’ve imagined this?” He growled low in his chest and you forget to breathe. None of the books you read prepared you for reality, not that you would confess. Benedict didn’t need his ego poked any longer, the more he knew he could unravel you slowly.

You squirmed against him, tugging his vest. “I’ve wanted you for years but denied myself. I didn’t - couldn’t- imagine you felt the same,” your voice came out as a whisper, a plea for him to see you and he did. Benedict saw you and gazed at you with hope and adoration.

He growled low in your ear, sliding his hands around your waist, rising to his feet pulling you against him, the racing of his beating heart restarting yours. He was your desire, your soul ached for him, knowing he was the only one you could ever hope to give yourself to.

No one else in the world was meant for you or could compare to him.

His heart beating in tandem with yours, clinging to each other, a lifeline. It felt like a lifetime before clarity finally made its way into the world, making its intentions known between you. It was more than the slow-burning passion and affection blossoming between each other.

His lips brushing along yours sent your heart soaring, connecting your souls and you welcomed him, and you were home, he pulled you flush up against him, groaning softly, digging his hands into your waist. He couldn’t breathe, utterly weightless, intoxicated by your scent, everything. He was high on you, your touch, oh how lovely it felt your fingers digging into his back, melting against him, needing him as much as he did you.

This was love. It was Benedict in a new form, one you awoke, taking him back home, a home he’d always known for you were there through it all. He wanted to give you everything you desired, everything you deserved. And you would receive the best in return. But not in his brother’s study on his favorite reading chair.

“Anthony will kill us if we do anything here,” He pulled away in a moment of clarity, holding you close, your legs trembled, overcome with your passions. You ached for him dearly, more than you knew possible.

“I’ve done worse, I assure you,” you snicked, gathering your bearings, brushing off your outfit, ruffling out the wrinkles as if that cleared off any evidence of Benedict having his hands over you wasn’t obvious. “I’ve defiled my mind with notions of unrealistic nonsense.”

He raised a brow, looking unamused, a flicker of amusement flashing before boisterous laughter, likely caused by Lady Featherington passing by the door and you inhaled sharply, the anticipation ticking by each moment. As soon as it came it went, hopefully, spurred on in good spirits. Lady Featherington surely didn’t have half the mind to break into Anthony’s study.

Benedict cracked open the door beckoning you over, taking your arm by the elbow, “Up the stairs, second door on the left. I’ll knock three times so you know it’s me.”

You nodded, taking in his appearance, his disheveled hair, mused vest, and undershirt beneath. You would be lying to yourself if you denied the excitement of what lies beneath but the other side of you was equally terrified.

******

Dashing up the stairs was easier said than done, the events of the evening causing your head to spin in a mixture of wonder, anxiety, and borderline delirium. You were sure you were dreaming but the stairs beneath your feet are solid, beckoning you up to the elegant quarters where the Bridgertons slept. You glided your hand along the banister admiring the railing, willing yourself not to fall, raucous laughter closing in, dangerously close by from the sound fluttering through the halls.

Perhaps Lady Featherington sought to uncover your dalliance after all. That would be the talk of the ton, however, you knew the Bridgertons could afford some slander from Lady Whistledown, but fortunately, all she commented on was the growing size of the family, the lovely grandchildren Vicountess Bridgerton had the pleasure of seeing when Daphne and Simon returned to town.

You silently cursed your attire and its restricted movement when you made it to the landing, stopping for the briefest moment to catch your breath. You didn't bother asking if his younger siblings were asleep, but he didn’t seem to care at that moment, the way his eyes glanced along your body, and the smile along his lips was far too distracting anyway.

Your minds were busy with other thoughts, the taste of his lips still freshly imprinted into your memory. You did everything as he instructed, the door to his room groaning on its hinges making your heart race, but you peeked out the door to be certain.

No maids padded down the corridor, the only sign of life was the music and laughter intermingling for what you could imagine would be all hours of the night. The Bridgertons could throw a grand party, no doubt about it.

Benedict's quarters greeted you with the scent of him, masculine and comforting. It felt like home, the furniture dark and handsome, the shelves lined with countless books, figurines along his desk not to mention his infamous sketchbook lying on his desk in the corner by the fireplace. Charred pieces of crumbled paper jutted out from the embers.

Curiously, you reached out for it turning to a page. It didn't take you long to figure out the odd figures as you pieced each frame together, a culmination of finished pieces, sketches, and half-started attempts, frustrated pen strokes deft in their quest to uncover the beauty ready to bloom.

Hands. Intertwined, graceful elegant, smooth lines, hardened ridges, callouses palms, delicately resting ones. Upon further inspection, you noticed the tried and failed attempts at an all too familiar pair of hands. It was odd to look at how he depicted yours, strong, yet graceful, adept at anything you put your mind to between needlework, horseback riding, the leather a fine feel in your hands.

You had to admit some were quite good while some lacked depth and luster. Practice made it worth it in the end, some of the figures he drew resembled a striking resemblance to his family, almost as if he were imitating the artist of the figurines, which when you looked longer were small likenesses of his mother, father, and siblings. The sight warmed your heart.

"Benedict! You're missing the partyyy!" A shrill giggle outside the hall pulled you from your exploration, your heart racing in tandem. You hoped and prayed it wasn’t Gregory and Hyacinth. From your previous encounters, you knew they were sharp, keen-eyed, and inquisitive about a multitude of subjects on top of their general mischievousness. Plus, you weren’t in the mood to ask any questions, but where the hell was Benedict?

Despite yourself you began pacing, desperately trying to avoid glancing at the bed draped in fine sheets, a fine rich deep velvety blue coverlet gracing it giving the piece a regal appearance. You wanted nothing more than to lose yourself between the downy softness of it all and fall into blissful dreams, and yet, there are other pressing matters to attend to.

The giggling resumed and you sighed, thinking better of yourself, not wanting this to be a joke.

You found yourself opening the door, greeted with the voice of none other than Violet Bridgerton whispering, on the verge of a quiet yell to her second song, grasping onto his elbow at the lower landing of the stairs. “Benedict! Good heavens, you’re to retire so earlyyyy???”

He rolled his eyes half in amusement and exasperation. “Mother, I have matters to attend to, plus the other mothers merely want to hunt me for sport and pair them with their retched daughters.”

His eyes flashed, glancing up, his gaze boring into yours, flooding your body with warmth. He quirked a brow, challenging you while his mother rambled drunkenly along, still grasping his elbow while he shifted his weight on his feet.

Shut the door, he mouthed to you, causing your lips to quirk in the barest hint of a smile.

“Quite right, you have a fair point. But there was that one lovely person you danced with twice back in the orangery perhaps…”

At that exact moment, you opened the door further to grant yourself a better view of Benedict’s struggle and also partly in retaliation to his protests, only for the grand door to let out a massive agonizing wail. The giggle left you of your own volition at Benedict’s bewildered expression rendering you completely helpless as Violet looked up at you, the same Bridgerton eyes, older, wiser and so kind smiled at you, albeit borderline tipsy.

“I see now I see. That’s the pressing matter you have to attend to. Don’t mess it up dear boy,” she slewed, chuckling to herself, before whispering in his ear, his face flushing in response. Violet released his arm, winking up at you before traipsing down the stairs, leaving a flustered Benedict behind to collect his thoughts before he came back to his senses, scurrying up the stairs while you slipped back into his room, posting yourself right in front of the door, keeping it cracked just so. When he arrived you only catch a glimpse of his eyes flashing before the door sealed you completely from his sight.

Silence greeted you and you feared you might have ignited his wrath, alas you merely wanted to tease him.

The seconds tick by then three knocks follow.

Were you going to answer him? Oh, he was going to make you pay for this with many kisses. He huffed before composing himself.

You still didn’t answer.

“Don’t play with me, dear unless you wish for them all to hear us when we should be dancing.” When he knocked for the second time, you decided to open the door, the scowl imprinted on his face illuminating a side of him you desperately wanted to see. You did this to him. Without hesitation, he locked the door behind him and immediately pressed you against the wall, a scowl forming along his lips.

“You wouldn’t dare flash me before the eligible men of the ton tonight if you had to.” You whispered, brushing a stray hair off his forehead. “I belong to you, Benedict. Even if I am an old maid.” Your heart thundered in your chest. You were home, you belonged to no one else, nowhere else but here in Benedict's loving arms.

“I am yours, oh love I’m yours.” His voice cracked, overcome with realization and the emotion of it all, his scowl replaced by pursed lips, wandering hands, lavishing your body in the simplest yet heat-induced touches and you wanted - craved - more. More of him. Benedict. Your Benedict.

“Benedict, Benedict…Benedict,” Your was all you can muster with the meeting of his lips upon yours, feeling the depths of him, pulling to you crashing over you like a tidal wave. You were a sailor lost at sea who made it to the safety of the harbor and oh, it was blissful beyond anything beyond your wildest dreams.

“Say it again,” he pleaded, each kiss awakening desires long suppressed, ones you hadn't acknowledged since they only came about throughout the course of your friendship with Benedict. Only he could put you under his unique spell, craving his lips, the brush of his hand against yours and here you are getting more than you dreamed.

“Benedict,” You sighed blissfully as he kissed you once more, kisses languidly savoring the feel of you as he guided you up onto the bed, the coverlet as luxurious as you surmised. You’ve not come close to feeling something so heavenly as this and Benedict, oh, he was more than you ever dreamed. The novels you’d read didn’t hold a flame to each sensation buzzing through your body, the magnetizing gaze of his upon yours, already undressing you with his eyes. You wanted to take your time, alas it was getting harder to resist. Benedict was one thing if not impossible, but he was yours, irrevocably so.

A fire in the fireplace crackled to life, startling you for a moment, while Benedict caressed your jaw, memorizing every inch, and you selfishly wonder if he'll draw your portrait one day, trying to capture the first moment he had you to himself in his chambers. He moves his exploration from your jaw to your shoulder, then your hands, leaving kisses where he can, murmuring sweet nothings, soft praises that have your knees weak and you wanting him all the more.

“Your hands are lovely, nothing can compare to me holding them,” he whispered, caressing them softly, continuing to place kisses of adoration along them while you gazed at his soft loving eyes. “I cannot capture their beauty, their essence onto the page. I’ve tried and failed for months.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’ve done a fine job, Benedict. Your art is beautiful, never lose that passion inside you, it’s ethereal strong, spellbinding, and magnetic.”

“As are you. You’re everywhere in my waking hour, in my dreams and sleepless nights. You’re my muse. You inspire me.” His voice wavered, a tear sliding down his cheek. Every bit of him belonged to you, there was no question, no doubt about it.

Without another word, you tug on his vest, a beautiful shade of the signature Bridgerton blue, his shirt embellished with small bees. Everything looked wonderful when it was on him, but you wanted more, to lose yourself to him countless times throughout the night.

“You’re pretty much the only reason I get out of bed most mornings,” You swallowed as he turned to face you, his hands cupping your face.

“My love, oh my love,” he kisses you softly, in equal parts awe and reverence intertwined, making you forget where you are, the time and place. It’s you and him safe in each other’s embrace. His kisses trailed from your hands up to your neck, nipping softly, eliciting soft groans from you and you returned them in kind, his fingers stroking along your back, pulling you closer in his embrace.

You brushed away another tear from his cheek, one falling from your eye as well and he wiped it away, kissing you gently before wrapping around behind you, desperation, adoration, awe, and passion guiding him. His lips connected with your neck, and you sighed in satisfaction, his hands wandering down your torso, lighting you up on the inside and you groan leaning back into him, leaving your mind to wander while you savored his touches.

“Good, you’re not thinking, that’s right. Much better see?” His hand wandered lower, down stroking you just so, warmth blooming through your body. He relished your moans, biting into your neck as he watched the effect he has on you, wishing he could have done this to you earlier all the wasted time you have to make up for now.

You urged him on through desperate kisses as you pull clothes from your bodies, every inch of him visible to you, eagerness and passion alike driving you both.

“Keep going, please.” The last of your clothing fell to the floor and he pulled you back onto the bed while assuring him you have all the time in the world. “I want you, Benedict, always have, always will.”

He needed nothing more but your constant assurance, his fingers dipping into you, gliding along your body making you fall into his ministrations, your breathing ragged as you fell into bliss, his fingers replaced with his tongue sending you soaring into another place another time and it felt so irrevocably right, your fingers digging into his mass of curls encouraging him along, more than eager to assist your release. And when you were spent, his lips met yours hunger and desire battling, intertwined as you tasted yourself on his lips. You wanted more, you wanted all of him, however, in the midst of it all you found yourself asking a question as you kissed him once more, this time slower, unrushed.

"What did your mother say to have you flustered as you are?" You batted your eyes, casting an impish smile, a look you know he couldn't resist. He hummed, his free hand stroking your side, his voice low in your ear. "My dearest mother told me to treat you well and that we best enjoy ourselves a little bit before our union. Told us to enjoy ourselves."

“Her intuition is uncanny, I never want to be on her bad side.” You huffed as Benedict groaned, pulling you in for yet another kiss, trailing down your body, making you squirm, not listening in the slightest, for he was far too distracted, focused on you before him. He would never tire of the sight, thanking his lucky stars.

Finally, after years of yearning and pining when you’re joined, it’s a bliss, unlike anything you’ve known. You stifled a moan at the feeling, Benedict brushing a stray hair from your eyes, trapping you against him. “Love, I want to hear you, alright? Can you do that for me?” Your eyes widened at the request but when he moves against you, pleasure filling every fiber of your body you cry his name to the heavens.

Oh, how he loved it the soft whimpers, you begging for more and your name sounding just as sweet and sinful falling from his parted lips, swollen from your nipping and kissing. You want the moment to last for oblivion yet when you both lose yourself to your bliss, delirium hits and you pulled him closer in your arms, his face resting in the crook of your neck, the bed and sheets in disarray. You smirked to yourself more than pleased with the outcome.

He continued to kiss your neck, nuzzling more, your hands stroking his curls. “I love you, Benedict.”

“I love you more, my love.”

“I’ll love you forever.”

“How about eternity?” He intertwines your hand with his own, kissing your ring finger. “Will you marry me?”

Your heart thrummed erratically but warmed at his loving gaze full of joy, hope, and wonder. It was a face you wanted to wake up with a kiss and love for all your days.

“Yes, Benedict, a thousand times yes.”

The smile that shot across his face kickstarted your heart and he kissed you for the thousandth time of the evening, not that you were complaining. For you have an eternity to kiss, love, and be loved by him. You settled against his chest, his embrace warm and reassuring, his hands settling on your belly soft and warm, while you drift off to sleep of bliss thinking only of Benedict and what the future holds.

******

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #benedict bridgerton x afab reader #afab reader #my writing

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letstrip13 · 3 months

Text

🌫 - paris

reader x matt

summary: y/n is getting tired of people constantly commenting on her and matt's relationship so she dreams of escaping it with him

no warnings, slight use of y/n, fluff, influencer couple, inspired by "paris" by taylor swift

word count: 1,229

author's note: i apologize if this messy, i got the idea from a dream and it was kind of hard to remember so i had to make up some details

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you and your boyfriend, matt, are laying in his bed together while both of you are on your phones. the relationship between the two of you has been going strong for a little over a year now. both of you have your own social media careers going, but you often make appearances in the triplet’s vlogs since you and matt are together all the time.

you’re not cuddling but you’re still very close, his shoulder against yours while your legs are tangled with his under the blankets. you’re doing completely separate things on your phones; knowing matt, he’s probably playing clash of clans or something while you’re scrolling through instagram. suddenly, you receive a new message.

“did you see the photos? no, i didn’t, but thanks, though.”

you check the message and it was someone asking if you had seen the new photos teatok had posted of you and matt. of course you hadn’t looked at the post, you didn’t want anything to do with that because of all the lies they spread. usually their posts are ignored by you and matt, but curiosity gets the better of you this time. you go to their page and check their latest post.

it’s a picture of you and matt out together where you’re walking a few steps ahead of him. you can’t help but roll your eyes at the absurd headline, “influencer couple, matt sturniolo and y/n l/n are splitting up?! 👀” of course the one time you weren’t holding his hand, they had to get a picture.

“i’m so in love that i might stop breathing.”

you put your phone down on matt’s nightstand and you glance over at him. he looks so perfect even when he’s barely doing anything. the glowing screen of his phone lights up his face. he’s like a dream; everything from his beautiful blue eyes, to the way his nose looks so perfect from his side profile, the dark stubble covering his cheeks and jaw, and the curve of his soft, pink lips.

you cuddle up to him, resting your head on his shoulder while burying your face in his neck while wrapping your arm loosely around his torso. without diverting his focus from the game on his phone, he wraps his arm around you to pull you even closer. “he’s so perfect, it’s unreal,” you think to yourself.

“drew a map on your bedroom ceiling.”

your mind starts drifting as you lay in comfortable silence with matt. you can’t help but wonder how different your lives would be if you two weren’t in the public eye so much, if you had a “normal” life. you’re grateful for your fans and success and you know he is too, however, you can’t help but wonder.. how different would your lives be if you traded it all in, even just for a day?

“no, i didn’t see the news, cause we were somewhere else.”

matt gently rubs your back while still playing his game. the gesture is comforting and a few minutes later, your eyes are fluttering closed and you're falling asleep on him.

suddenly, you wake up on a plane. matt is sitting next to you and an announcement comes on, saying that the plane is about to land. before you can fully register what's happening, matt is putting your luggage in the trunk of a car and you're in the back of a cab. he holds your hand the whole ride. as you're looking out the window at the beautiful city, you realize that you don't exactly know where you are. the scenery looks like something you've seen in pictures before, but you can't quite name it. it seems that matt knows something you don't, judging by the excited smile on his face.

the cab stops in front of a big building. matt gets out of the car and opens the door for you so you can step out. he grabs the luggage and leads you into the building. you enter a beautiful hotel lobby. it looks like something out of a movie. you get into the elevator and he presses the button to go up to the penthouse suite. he unlocks the door and lets you step into the room first. it's even more amazing than the lobby. it looks more like an apartment than a hotel room with the huge sitting area and flatscreen tv, the king-sized bed that looks like it would feel like sleeping on a cloud, and the bathroom which has a shower and bathtub easily big enough for two with lots of extra room. the best part is the sliding glass door that leads out to a balcony.

“i was taken by the view like we were in paris, like we were somewhere else.”

he takes your hand and leads you out to the balcony. he wraps his arm around your waist as the both of you look out at the view. the sun is setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the city scenery and the clouds have started to turn a little orange. in the distance, you see the eiffel tower. that’s when you realize that you’re in paris. matt places a gentle hand on your cheek and starts to turn your face towards his. just when he’s about to kiss you, you hear his voice but it’s not coming from him.

“baby?” you wake up to matt gently shaking you awake. he smiles down at you. “did you have a good nap, my love?” you yawn and give him a sleepy nod. “yeah, i had a dream that we were in paris. i really want to go someday.” he smiles and kisses your forehead. “i’ll take you there one day.”

you give him a quick kiss on the lips before checking your phone to see if anyone had texted you while you were asleep. your best friend sent you a tiktok so you turn on your phone to check it but it opens to the post about you and matt from earlier. you roll your eyes out of annoyance when you see it and matt looks down at you. “what’s wrong?” “look at what they’re saying about us.” you hand him your phone so he can see the post for himself. he reads the headline and almost laughs at how stupid it sounds.

“romance is not dead if you keep it just yours.”

he gives your phone back as you let out a soft sigh. “i hate that they always have something to say about us, not even just them.. but so many people are constantly commenting on our relationship. i get that it comes with our career but i’m getting really tired of it.” matt pulls you into a hug and gently rubs your back. “i know, baby. so am i.” you slowly pull away to look up at him. “can we keep our relationship offline? just for a little while, until people are distracted with something else.” “yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

you and matt take some time to write out a statement saying that you’re choosing to keep your relationship private for a while then you both post it to your instagram stories. matt gets out of bed. “wanna go for a drive?” you nod and he pulls you out of bed, leading you out of the room.

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#matt x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #Spotify

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soapsilly · 4 months

Text

Reunion - Roronoa Zoro Imagine

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Spoilers for One Piece (?)

Summary: It's been five years since Zoro had to leave (Y/N) and their son. Five years since he promised he'd come back for them. Now that they finally found the One Piece, will Zoro be able to choose between life as a pirate and his young family?

A/N: This is Part 3 for Betrayal and Redemption, so read that first... or don't. Who am I to tell you anything?

Requests are closed

************************************************************************

Zoro swore under his breath as he turned the corner and found himself on the same market place yet again. It's been five years since he's last been on this damn island but nothing about this fucking village seemed familiar to him. He's been wandering around for what felt like an eternity but realistically couldn't have been more than two hours or so. The townspeople were muttering and mumbling behind their hands once they spotted him. He didn't know if they recognized him from when him and his crew saved the village five years ago or if they had seen his wanted poster in the newspapers. Ever since the Straw Hats finally found the One Piece and made Luffy Pirate King, there hasn't been an issue without their faces plastered on the cover page.

After he rounded the same corner for yet another time, he had to admit defeat. Zoro just knew, (Y/N) would've found his abymsal sense of direction hilarious, if she were there. Often she would have him lead the way just to see where they'd end up, knowing full well that they'd been walking in the wrong direction all along. The memory triggered a familiar pain in his chest - one that would always appear whenever he thought about the girl he had to leave behind. He had promised to come back for her. Her and their son... Sora.

Zoro had thought a lot about them these last couple of years. The boy that was barely even a toddler when he last saw them - and yet clearly looked so much like him already - must've been around seven years now. Would he remember him? Could he forgive his father for leaving him and his mother behind? Did (Y/N) even want him to return? It's been so many years with no contact. Maybe she decided to finally move on. These were the thoughts that tormented Zoro these past couple of months during night watches. After they found the One Piece he wanted nothing more than to return to (Y/N) as soon as possible but the journey was long - many opportunities for his mind to wander.

"Hey, Zoro", Nami pulled him from his thoughts. The swordsman only grunted in return.

"I bet you're glad to finally see (Y/N) again after all those years, huh?", the navigator continued. She could sense the nervousness that surrounded her friend these last couple of weeks. She didn't blame him, she'd be nervous aswell.

"I guess", the mosshead has never been a man of many words.

"Do you miss her?", Nami's voice was quiet but he could hear her clearly. The Thousand Sunny was almost silent during those night hours - a stark contrast to it's chaotic state during the day.

Zoro didn't answer at first. Of course he missed her. He missed her everyday. Especially at night, when the two of them would sit down with (Y/N)'s homemade liquor to talk about anything and everything. It was then that Zoro got to truly open up.

"I do, you know?", Nami continued when she sensed the swordfighters struggles to find the right words.

"What if - what if I took to long?", Zoro turned to face the red-head. Talking about his feelings made him uncomfortable but Nami was (Y/N)'s friend. If anybody could help him tame the chaos in his mind it would be her.

The woman knew exactly what he was referring to. No need to elaborate. A sympathetic expression took over her features.

"Nonsense, you know her. It's (Y/N). I doubted her once... I won't make the same mistake twice. Trust me she waited", Nami didn't enjoy thinking back to way she treated her friend back then when she thought that (Y/N) had betrayed the crew during those two years they were separated. She knew, (Y/N) told her not to worry about it - that she'd have acted the same way - but the memories still hurt. Nami was determined to trust her friend this time around. They were Nakama after all...

Zoro sent her a nod but he wasn't quite sure if he actually believed what the red-head said or if he was only trying to convince himself.

"Oi, you two!", Zoro had enough of wandering around the market place, "I'm looking for uh - the witch?"

Their eyes widened when the two men realized who was standing before them.

"Oh, you're that Pirate Hunter dude! You found the One Piece", one of them answered.

"Yes, yes! Roronoa Zuko or something", the other guy agreed.

Zoro had to take a deep breath as to not lose his temper.

"The witch. Where can I find her?", he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Oh, yeah", one of them drawled out, "I'm sorry, man, but she died - like what? A few years back?"

Zoro couldn't hear a word from the bickering that followed about whether it's been two or three years already. All he could think about was the fact that he came too late. He felt panic rise up in his chest. This wasn't a situation he could fight his way out of. And what about their son? Where was he and who took care of him? He never felt so helpless before. There were a thousand thoughts rushing through his head - until a new voice interrupted his strings of thought.

"No, you idiots! He's looking for my mom", Zoro's eyes grew wide when he saw whom the voice belonged to. There was no doubt that the little boy before them was his son. He had the same green hair, the same lopsided grin - albeit a few of his teeth missing. Zoro felt like his head was spinning. He didn't know what to feel. Relief because apparently (Y/N) was well? Happiness? Fear? He had thought about this moments so many times but nothing could have actually prepared him for when it actually came to meeting his son. He had honestly relied on (Y/N) being there and guiding him through the situation but fate had some different plans for him that day. It was almost comical - how was he expected to handle these kind of situations when he couldn't even deal his own emotions most of the time.

"Right, right, right", one of the two men seemed to remember what the boy was talking about, "You mean (Y/N)! Oi, he means (Y/N)!"

Out of all the people Zoro could've asked, of course it had to be these two morons. He was just about to lose his temper, breathing heavy already, but his mini-me reminded him why he was even there to begin with. That didn't stop him from giving them the death glare as he followed Sora away from these two idiots, who by the looks of it didn't even notice it anyways as they were still deep in discussion about God knows what.

"They're idiots", the little boy's voice pulled Zoro out of his thoughts, "Mom's fine"

The swordsman noticed that the little guy didn't seem nervous at all. In fact, he started talking to Zoro as if he had known him his whole life.

"They were talking about Mim...", he continued. Zoro remembered the old hag that mentored (Y/N) during their initial two year separation. He met her briefly. She was old. Ancient even. His heart ached for his lover. He was glad that she had someone on this island. Some kind of support. He felt better knowing someone was there for her - that she wasn't alone. And still, the older woman was yet another person that left her to fend for herself. He knew his thoughts were merely a projections of his own guilty conscience. That it was actually him that left his girlfriend behind.

"We knew you'd come", the little boy happily babbled on as he led the way out of the village towards the edge of the forrest, "The others said you wouldn't come but Mom knew"

The little boy may have inherited his looks but Zoro noticed that his essence - the way he just happily talked and talked without a care in the world - was all (Y/N).

"Look!", the witch ran up to the swordsman and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him with her.

"What's going on? Who's hurt?", his free hand immediately found it's way to the swords that were hung closely by his hip.

"Huh? No one?", she scrunched up her face adorably, "Look what I found!"

Zoro could hear the excitement in her voice as she pulled him up to a meadow she had found while exploring the new island the Straw Hats stopped at. Her eyes marveled at all the flowers, plants and herbs that grew all over the place.

"Isn't it beautiful?", she turned to him wide a wide smile.

"Depends", Zoro grunted.

"On what?", her face fell. The mosshead noticed that cute little crease between her eyebrows that appeared whenever she was in deep thought or confused.

"Well, depends on how many of these plants could kill me"

"Most of them", she shrugged but couldn't help the happy laugh that left her lips, "Come on now"

With that she grabbed his hand again, already talking about what each plant could be used for, taking samples as she went, shoving them into the swordsman's arms so that he could carry them for her. Zoro didn't understand a word she was saying. He didn't mind though. He enjoyed her rambling about potions and balms.

"Hey! Are you even listening to me?"

Zoro smiled to himself as the memory played in his head.

"We're almost there", the little boy shouted over his shoulder.

And indeed, not even two minutes later (Y/N)'s little hut appeared before them. The mosshead noticed how similar to his lover the house looked. It was small. Whimsical. A plethora of flowers decorated the little gardenspace in the front. All in all a peaceful sight. But appearences can be deceptive. He knew that most of the plants were poisonous. No matter how beautiful they seemed, even a little dose could be deadly.

"Mommy!", the little boy yelled out as they approached the house, "Mommy, look!"

It wasn't even thirty seconds until the door to the hut swung open and (Y/N) hurried out, a dish rag clutched in one of her hands.

"What did you do now? Whatever it is that you caught, you better-", (Y/N) dropped the dish towel when her eyes fell onto the mosshead. Zoro's heart skipped several beats when he realized how close they were. All these years apart and yet he still felt like it was yesterday that the two of them kissed under the moonlight. She was beautiful. Eventhough she looked exhausted, she was clearly the girl he fell in love with. His (Y/N).

Sora excitedly ran up to his mother, squealing happily, "He's back! Look, Mommy. You were right. He came!"

(Y/N) patted his head - stroking the green hair - almost mechanical, her wide eyes remained on the swordsman. Her lips slightly parted as if she was trying to come up with something to say but struggling to find the words.

"Yes, love... I can see that", her voice was full of shock but she still did her best to sound excited for her son.

Zoro felt self-conscious. He didn't know what to do. Should he say something? Walk up to her? Would she even want that? He scolded himself. Why did he take a seven year old's word for it?

The mosshead was so busy with his thoughts that he almost didn't notice her walking up to him and practically flinging herself into his arms. Her head comfortably found it's place underneath his chin. Zoro got emotional as her scent filled his nose. For a moment they just stood there.

"I knew you'd come", he heard her whisper against his chest.

"Always", he answered as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

When she looked up at him, he could see the tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. He was just about to wipe them away with his thumbs, when their son - their son - interrupted the moment together.

"Mommy, I found him", he smiled brightly as he squeezed himself between his parents' legs.

(Y/N) hastily wiped her tears away before clapping in her hands once. An excited smile present on her lips, "You're right, Honey! And I think we'll need to celebrate that!"

"A party?", the little boy looked up at her with bright eyes, "Can we - can we make a cake for dad?"

Dad... Zoro noticed how the green-headed boy's voice tripped over itself due to the sheer excitement. The swordsman blinked a few times at the mention of his new title. He felt a strange feeling in his stomach area. Of course, he was his dad. There was no doubt about that. And of course, he wanted to be - of course. But still it felt so strange being called that, being welcomed back with open arms like that. He felt (Y/N)'s eyes flicker over to him before turning back to the child.

"Well, I'm sure your father would much rather celebrate with a good bottle of rum... Here", she handed the little boy some bills, "go back into the village and buy him a nice bottle at Old Mickey's place, yes? And when you're back, we'll bake something nice anyways"

Zoro's eyes widened. Did she really sent their son to buy hard liquor for them?

"Yes, Mommy!", the little guy nodded enthusiastically and skipped away.

"Did you just sent our seven year old to buy alcohol? Who in their right mind would sell alcohol to a child?", the swordsman raised his brows.

The witch shrugged, "Hopefully no one. I mean, they know him 'round here but still. He's only seven", she grinned, "Besides, you know I have my own liquor. You didn't forget about that, did you?"

The concerned look on her face hit Zoro straight in the heart. How could she ever think that he'd forget just a single thing about her?

"Okay but... I still don't understand", he furrowed his brows, "Why did you sent him away then?"

"Of course, you don't", she started laughing as she grabbed his hand to guide him into the hut, "Sora is so happy that you're here. Haven't seen him like that since that one time Mim made him float through the air... You seemed overwhelmed though. Sorry that he found you first. Ever since I told him about how you guys found the One Piece he's been patroling the island for when you'd arrive. He can be pretty stubborn you know? Thought I'd give you some space..."

(Y/N) grew quiet towards the end when she noticed her rambling.

"You- you told him about me?", Zoro was shocked.

"Well, of couse", she looked at him with those eyes - those eyes that he couldn't resist, "We always read the newspaper together during breakfast, you know? He loves hearing about your adventures. He wants to be a swordsman just like you. Or a devil fruit user like Luffy... Or both"

The swordfighter's chest swole with pride as he imagined his son wanting to be just like him. Maybe he could teach him?

"I missed you", her voice was low. Merely a whisper.

"I missed you too", he answered thruthfully, "I thought about you everyday"

And with that he crashed his lips onto hers. For the first time in five years he felt at peace. Like a she was the missing piece that finally completed him again.

When they eventually separated, she smiled at him, her hands already tracing circles on his thighs.

"You know? There's another benefit of us having some alone time", she mumbled against his lips, already climbing on top of him, "The downside? We won't have long..."

"After five years?", he panted, "I won't last long anyways"

The giggle that followed was like music to his ears. This didn't play out like he had imagined but with them the things rarely do. At the moment he was just happy to be back with his love - how her lips felt against his own. How her hands roamed his body. How hot her skin felt against his.

************************************************************************

"That scar wasn't there last time I saw you", she traced the pale pink line that decorated his side.

He shrugged. Being the Pirate King's first mate came with it's price.

"Neither were those", he gestured towards the little pictures that were plastered all over her ribcage. Each tattoo symbolized one member of the crew. A straw hat, three katanas, a clementine - even a little violine that represented Brook.

"This way I had you with me... Wherever you guys may have been", her voice was quiet. Peaceful.

"I see...", Zoro thought about her words. He knew she chose to stay behind but it couldn't have been easy for her. The Straw Hats were her family and even after all those years, she never stopped thinking about them as such, "But did you really have to get one for the ero-cook, too?"

He pulled a face. He didn't like the thought of any part of that pervert being anywhere near (Y/N)'s naked body - even if it was just some ink.

She laughed at how whiny he sounded as he fixated on the little lighter that resembled the one Sanji would always carry around with himself.

"So I take it, the two of you have not become best buddies then?"

Her question was only met with a contemptuous snort.

"Where are they anyways?", she continued - more serious this time.

"I asked them to drop me off here. Wanted to have some time alone with you before they would come barging in causing chaos again"

"That's almost romantic", she smiled, "For your standards, I mean"

"Wow, thanks a lot", he sarcastically replied but secretly he loved the way she just seamlessly picked up where they left off. There was no awkwardness. No unfamiliarity.

"They'll join us here in a couple of days...", the mosshead continued.

"Wow, it's going to be so strange seeing them again", she spoke moreso to herself than to anyone in particular.

"You don't have to be nervous... You're still part of the crew", Zoro's hand reached out to play with (Y/N)'s hair. A glimmer of hurt flickered over her face. It wasn't even a second but the swordsman still noticed.

"Well, we'll see about that", she forced herself to sound cheerful, "For now, let's celebrate. We should get dressed, Sora could be back any time now"

And with that she pushed herself off the bed to get dressed. A sight Zoro could get used to. This domestic life. A little house. A family. He never wanted this, never dreamed of it. But right this moment, this didn't seem so bad.

(Y/N) was right, not long after the two of them got dressed they heard the happy voice of their son approaching from outside.

"Here, Mommy", the little boy pushed the bottle of rum, he was carrying towards his mother.

"What the-? Sora!", Zoro watched his girlfriend as she struggled to find the right words, "Did Old Mickey seriously sell you this?"

"Oh, no. Here!", Sora reached into his backpocket and handed his mother the bills back that she had given him before he left.

"I don't -", she took a deep breath to compose herself, "Sora, why do you have this?"

"Old Mickey didn't want to sell me the rum. He said I was too young. I told him it was for Dad but he wouldn't believe me!", the child sounded appalled.

"So, instead of just coming back and getting one of us - you just stole it?", his mother was in disbelief but the little boy just shrugged.

"Fuck, Sora. You know that's not okay! I thought I taught you better than this"

"Oi!", Zoro interjected, "Cut the boy some slack! At least he's honest"

"Honest?", the swordsman couldn't help but laugh at how shocked his girlfriend looked, "He just stole a bottle of rum, Zoro!"

"Yeah, well but he didn't keep the money though", Zoro grinned, "He could've said that he bought the alcohol and bag the money for himself. Besides, what did you expect? You told him to go buy some rum"

"Well, not my proudest moment as a parent I guess", she massaged the bridge of her nose.

The swordsman decided to walk over to the witch, hugging her and pressing a kiss against her temple.

"Don't sweat it. We can't all be perfect"

Her content smile quickly turned into a slap to the biceps once she registered the words her boyfriend just said. He wasn't usually known for joking around - sure a few sarcastic remarks directed at the cook but other than that, the mosshead was always rather serious.

"Guys, you'll never believe what I witnessed last night", Usopp excitedly told the rest of the crew during breakfast. It was the morning after (Y/N) and Zoro's first drunken night together. Neither of them joined the crew for breakfast, too hungover from the night before.

Immediately Chopper and Luffy were intrigued. Leaning forward eager to hear what their friend had to say.

"Last night when I had guard duty I saw Zoro with (Y/N) goofing around", Usopp revealed waiting for his friends to be as excited for the newly aquired information as he was but the desired reaction remained absent.

"So what? (Y/N) is always goofing around", Nami shrugged, popping another blueberry into her mouth.

"No! No,no. Zoro was goofing around too", Usopp insisted.

The breakfast table remaind silent for a few seconds before the whole crew broke out in laughter.

"Yeah sure", Sanji grinned, "When I made my rounds last night, the marimo and (Y/N)-san enjoyed a few drinks together. Not that that alcoholic could distinguish a good wine from dishwater", he finished bitterly.

"Typical Usopp", Chopper agreed, hinting towards the snipers affinity towards bending the truth to make up the wildest stories.

"I mean it though", Usopp whined. Why wouldn't anybody believe him?, "They did impressions and everything! Zoro's impression of Sanji was actually pretty hilarious"

It took a few more rounds of convincing but slowly one after the other the Straw Hats started believeing the sniper.

"I knew she was a real witch... She cast a spell on him", Chopper whispered almost fearful of (Y/N)'s abilities.

************************************************************************

It was night and Zoro laid awake (Y/N) peacefully sleeping in his arms. It was a good day. Sora seemed to have alot of fun asking all kinds of questions about their adventures, fish-men and how to become a swordsman. So why couldn't he sleep?

He gently pushed (Y/N) off of him, hoping not to wake her, and got up to get some fresh air. It would only be a couple of days more until the rest of his crew would arrive. Zoro didn't know how he felt about that.

"Leaving already?", (Y/N)'s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"I tried not to wake you", Zoro knew his love was just teasing him.

"Well, you failed", she laughed as she walked up to him, hugging his biceps, "What's wrong with you? Do you already regret coming back for us?"

Zoro could still hear the smile in her voice but he knew her well enough to also hear the hint of genuine concern that swung along with it.

"Of course not!", the swordfighter was appaled, "You were all I could think about ever since finding the One Piece"

"What is it then?"

"I guess I feel guilty"

"Guilty? For what?"

"I know you said it was fine and that you made the decision yourself but all of this - raising Sora by yourself - it must've been so...", he struggled to find the words, "And - and... Sora! He's great and I missed so much. I just don't understand how - how ... How can you just forgive me?"

(Y/N) just listened to his word-vomit, letting him spill his feelings. It was rare that he said that many words without interruption - especially not with that deep of a meaning.

"Oh, Zoro...", the witch cooed, "You're thinking to much about all of this. It's really quite easy... There's nothing to forgive"

She shrugged. The mosshead tried to protest but she wouldn't have it, shutting him down immediately.

"There is nothing to forgive", she repeated this time more forcefully, "We are happy that you're here"

(Y/N) sent him a questioning look as if to ask if he understood her. A loving smile lit up her face when he finally nodded in return.

"Very good", she sighed, "And now let's get back to bed. Your son is a morning person"

************************************************************************

These last remaining days just flew by. Zoro enjoyed spending time with his little family and he was almost a little sad that their crew would disturb their peace.

"(Y/N)!", Luffy flung himself into the witch's arms, wrapping himself around her.

Her happy laugh filled the air.

"I'm so happy to see you all again", she grinned, "Congratulations! I guess I'm in the presence of royalty now"

(Y/N) was still busy greeting all of her friends when Nami spotted a certain green-haired boy hiding behind his mother's legs.

"As happy as I am to see you, (Y/N), where is my little nephew?", the navigator feigned.

The witch grinned, not being used to her son being timid.

"Guys, this is Sora. He's a big fan"

Nami crouched down, pulling the little boy into her chest and immediately peppering his face with kisses.

"Oooooh Nami-swaaaaan, you're so loving and kind~", Sanji was smitten with the way the red-head acted around the child.

Once Nami released Sora from her grasp, the cook leaned down holding out his hand for the little mosshead to shake.

"My name is Sanji and I'm-"

Sanji was interrupted by the little boy kicking him in the shin.

"Sora!", (Y/N) scolded her son.

Zoro couldn't hold back his laughter, patting his son on the shoulder to show his approval.

"Sanji, I'm so sorry!", the witch fussed over the cook.

"Like father like son, huh?", Sanji scowled at Zoro who still couldn't stop laughing.

"Yep", the swordsman had never been more proud in his life.

"Sora, apologize right this instant", the Straw Hats had never heard (Y/N) be this strict.

"C'mon, Babe! What happened? Out of anybody you instigated the most fights", Zoro was still laughing.

It was true. She always found the little fights her boyfriend and the cook would have hilarious. That's why she told her son about them during their bedtime stories but that didn't mean Sora could just do as he pleased.

"No fighting now", Nami interjected, "Sanji, make some food. We need to celebrate. The crew is finally back together"

Sanji did as he was told, happy to be of service. And he didn't disappoint. The meal he created was nothing short of a feast. There was more food than they could possibly eat - if it weren't for Luffy of course. Brook played some happy tunes. And (Y/N) felt at peace, it was just like back when she was still part of the crew. She was just getting to know Jinbei as she watched Sora dance arm in arm with Luffy, Chopper and Usopp, his legs dangling in the air. Her eyes wandered over to Zoro, who was enjoying a drink at the moment and she decided then and there to just let her mind rest for the night and worry about what's to come once the party was over.

************************************************************************

It's been a few days since (Y/N) and her son joined the Straw Hats on the Thousand Sunny. Sora didn't leave Zoro's side even once. The little boy loved watching his father practice and even begged him to teach him some. Zoro didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, he seemed to enjoy spending time with his son just as much. Seeing the two people she loved most - being with her nakama again - all of this felt right. This made it all the more tragic when Nami anounced they'd have to leave soon.

"Great! (Y/N), go get your stuff. Sanji and Franky can help you carry everything", Luffy sounded happy, "Sora can stay here on the ship with us while you do that"

It was Sabaody all over again. Five years ago (Y/N) had to have the same conversation with her crew. She knew Zoro had obligations as Luffy's first mate, so she tried to savour their time together while it lasted. Maybe he'd visit them every couple of years - at least she hoped he would for Sora's sake. Her heart ached as she thought about the little boy. He loved his father so much. Losing him now would devastate him. (Y/N) tried to ignore the fact that she felt the same way.

She sighed, "Luffy... A pirate ship is still no place for a child. Especially now that you are pirate king. You've got a target on your back. All of you"

As if on command all of the Straw Hats yelled some kind of suggestion or protest - even Sora pleaded for his mother to reconsider.

The witch leaned down to be on eye-level with her son, taking both of his hands in her own, "I'm so sorry, Honey... but I promise they can visit us anytime. They found us once... They'll find us again"

She tried to sound cheerful so that her son didn't notice how hard this was for her but she could feel the tears forming already.

"No!", Sora screamed, "I want to be a pirate. Just like Dad!"

Before (Y/N) could answer, Luffy interjected.

"That's a great idea! I was seven when I started my pirate training!"

"But that's not the same!", (Y/N) had never raised her voice at Luffy before so when she realized her yelling she took a deep breath to calm herself, "Luffy, you were a devil fruit user already. Your grandfather is Garp and you spent a significant amount of time with Shanks. Sora is... just a child"

The crew was quiet as (Y/N) unloaded all her frustrations.

"Listen, I was so happy to see you again but I'm not part of your crew anymore and I haven't been for a long time. All those things you've accomplished - everything you've done - I took no part in it. These last couple of days were special but I'm need to take care of my family"

"But we are your family", Nami pleaded. She could only try to imagine how (Y/N) must feel. She knew her well. She knew that (Y/N) wanted to stay. She knew she would never ask Zoro to leave the crew for them because (Y/N) knew that Zoro would do so without hesitation. He loved her more than anything. Anyone could see that. But Nami also knew that (Y/N) was scared.

"I'm sorry...", the other woman shook her head, signaling for her son to say goodbye to the crew.

"Enough", Zoro had been quiet during most of the discussion but he had heard enough.

(Y/N)'s eyes were wide as she stared at her lover.

"I accepted your decision five years ago. I understood that it wasn't safe. I got stronger. We all did. We found the One Piece and made Luffy pirate king. I trained day and night to become the best. The strongest. And then I returned to you. I came back. I will not lose you yet again. Do you hear me?", he sounded almost angry, "I love you more than anything. You and our son. I love that he has your personality. I love that he wants to become a swordfighter just like me. You are not leaving and that's it"

"Zoro...", (Y/N) sighed.

"No! Just no. We can protect you. There's a fight? Fine! We'll fight, you'll go below deck and stay there with Sora until the coast is clear. What about school? I know you're going to ask. You are smart. So is Robin. You can teach him. Fuck, even Chopper can"

(Y/N) could see Robin nodding from where she was standing.

"Zoro-"

"No!", he wasn't finished, "What do you want me to do? Stay with you? Leave the crew? I will... Just say a word and I will"

The witch marched over to where the mosshead was getting increasingly more desperate by the minute. Once she reached him she put her hands on either side of her face.

"Zoro!", she almost yelled.

"What?"

"We'll stay"

The whole crew errupted in cheers as Zoro grabbed her by the waist, spinning her around, pressing a deep kiss on her lips. (Y/N) squealed in surprise - not only by his sudden movement but also because it was the first time that he had initiated closeness between the two of them when other people were around.

"But I swear, if anything happens to us, I'll curse you", she giggled once he sat her down on the ground again.

"I would never let that happen", he assured her.

(Y/N) knew things wouldn't be easy but they were her family and she trusted them. It's been years since she felt like she truly belonged somewhere but seeing her son so happy, she knew she made the right decision.

************************************************************************

Epilogue

Zoro had meanwhile turned towards his mini-me, who couldn't even believe his luck.

"Oi, Sora! Your training starts tomorrow"

#roronoa zoro x reader #one piece imagine #roronoa zoro imagine #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro imagine #one piece x reader #one piece

243 notes · View notes

catslvrr · 5 months

Text

broken thread

pham hanni x fem!reader | one shot

Synopsis: Your whole life, you had been waiting for the red loop to appear on your ring finger. The string leads straight to your soulmate, you had heard. You weren’t really expecting your soulmate to literally cut ties on the first day of getting it. And you definitely weren’t expecting to meet her months later at your university library.

Contains: cursing

Playlist

Your favorite color had always been red — a rich and blazing red.

You learned from an early age that it was the color of love. The color of the string that would wrap around your ring finger one day, and lead you straight to your soulmate.

You spent countless days pestering your parents to retell the story of when they first received their string, the story of how they first met, the story of how they fell in love. You would watch them send teasing smiles to each other as they fought over who fell first, and see their eyes gleam with fondness as they reminisced about their younger days.

They would tuck you in bed with goodnight kisses after sharing little tidbits of their love story, and you would fall asleep with a smile on your face, comforted by the fact that you would one day find your own soulmate — someone who would love you unconditionally.

The first time you saw the red string in action, from someone other than your parents, was in the first year of high school. A girl from your class had rocked up to school one day, waving around her hand to flaunt the red loop that had appeared around her finger, the first to do so.

That was the telltale sign that she had found her soulmate: everyone could see the loop, and only she could see the string that led her to them.

(Getting the loop didn’t mean that you would immediately find your soulmate, though. You had heard from your parents that it was different for everyone. It could be mere days, or it could take weeks, months, sometimes even years after receiving the loop to meet your soulmate face to face.)

News traveled around fast. By second period, it was all everyone talked about. Students rushed to the girl during the break, eager to see it in person, as if to confirm that this concept was tangible and real.

You didn’t have to see for yourself. The look on the girl’s face was enough for you, glowing with ardor and pride. And it was not only the girl who was left eager at the prospect of a soulmate after this. This day planted a seed of hope in everyone, their own expectations and fervor beginning to grow and flourish.

It’s so nice, you had thought to yourself at the time as you absentmindedly drew a red line that looped around your whole page, that everyone is so excited for love.

And you loved love, too. How could you not, when it was in everything you saw growing up? It was in the mornings when you would wake up unusually early, and peek outside your room to see your parents conversing in hushed tones over some coffee, the sunlight just barely spilling through the curtains to tenderly greet them.

It was in the tooth-rotting sweetness of the candy your cousins would secretly buy for you without your parents’ knowledge, along with the bandaids to cover your scraped knees when you rode your bike together.

It was in the way you and your friends would bring extra servings of your snacks or lunch to share with and ‘trade’ together.

It was everywhere, a constant and certainty, there for you to give and take at your will, and that’s what you loved about love.

As years went by, more and more students burst through the school gates brandishing their red loops, and more and more couples began popping up. Valentine’s Day at school was always sweet to see — the school would decorate the hallways with red threads and balloons, and students sent heart lollipops and roses to their lovers or friends.

By the time you reached your senior years, your ring finger was still bare. Your friends and family always reassured you that your time would come, and friends who hadn’t received the loop yet would lament and rant about their anxiety. You weren’t too worried, though. Love is patient and so you figured you should be too.

It was a few weeks after graduation when you finally received your red loop. You woke up in the afternoon to the disruptive revving of a car that zoomed past your house.

(You had been waking up later these days, enjoying the last taste of freedom before the start of university.)

You stayed up late last night, suddenly feeling the motivation to perform a surgical deep clean of your room. You enjoyed doing this every few months to give yourself peace of mind. It was bittersweet to look back at your past exams and the old notes you took, reminiscing the endless hours you spent hunched over your desk.

You were about to drift back to sleep when you felt a slight itch on your ring finger, and instinctively went to scratch it. Then, you realized what that meant, and quickly sat up to investigate.

There it was, in all its glory: a red loop around your finger. The string that extended it passed through your walls. You leaned in closer to inspect it — it seemed like a real string, like what you would find on a spool. You could see the little threads that it was made of. But when you tried to touch it, it would just pass through your fingers.

You sat there for a few minutes, letting the reality sink in. You were overwhelmed with emotions, the good kind, and your cheeks started to hurt because you were smiling too hard.

You didn’t feel any different, didn’t feel suddenly whole or complete, and you didn’t expect to. You were just content that there was someone out there to share your love with. Though, there was that small sense of relief in the way your shoulders relaxed.

(There was always a small margin of error with soulmates; you had heard of it through whispered rumors and seen it in the fine print of your research. The selfish part of you was glad that it wasn’t you.)

Your hands wouldn’t stop trembling, even when you got out of bed to brush your teeth. You couldn’t help but begin to fantasize about who your soulmate would be — what they would look like, what their personality was like, if the two of you would click straight away.

Just as you finished washing up and began to make your way to the kitchen, you winced as you felt an unexpected sharp tug on your ring finger. Your hand felt like it was burning. Cradling your wrist up towards you, you noticed what was wrong.

What was once a red string that carried your love beyond these walls, to wherever your soulmate was, was now cut short, frayed at the edges. Its color had faded, as if lifeless, now a pale pink.

Oh. Maybe you spoke too soon.

You stood there for a while, in the hallway, in denial. Hadn’t it only been a few minutes? When your mom made her way to your room to check up on you, she saw your stricken face first. Her eyebrows knitted, mouth open and about to ask what was wrong. Then, she saw the string, or a lack thereof.

She didn’t say anything, only pulling you into her arms, the arms that once engulfed you as she told you everything she knew about soulmates. You let the tears run down your face.

You never thought that love could be pain, but you were feeling it now, and you didn’t know how to make it stop. Each gasping breath after the sobs that wracked through your body should have been breaths that your soulmate would’ve taken away.

You bit your lip so as to no longer make a sound, and you were biting so hard that it bled the red you once thought meant love.

You felt empty for the next few days. There was an almost imperceptible lighter feeling to your ring finger now, and you felt bare.

The loop was still there, and the sight of it that had once brought joy, now only gave you sorrow that you would’ve never thought to associate with soulmates.

You cried until your eyes were bloodshot red, and you imagined that your tears would stain the pink loop, if it could be stained — soaked with your tears so that it darkened, and maybe it would be closer to the red you love.

It was as if the universe was mocking you. Everyone knew how much you loved the idea of soulmates, how badly you were waiting for the day to get your loop (even though you tried to hide it).

But we always want what we can’t have. And you thought that the world was cruel, for letting you just have a taste of soulmates, only for it to be ripped away from you not even an hour later.

Or perhaps you should blame your soulmate for being selfish and entitled enough to deny both of you the gift that is love. You wonder if you would actually say that to them if you ever met face to face.

(You wouldn’t. You have a feeling that you’d love them regardless.)

It was stupid, being heartbroken over someone you had never met. But you had spent so much of your life waiting and hoping, that the disappointment was stifling, like the string had wrapped itself tightly around you, leaving you no room to breathe. Maybe it was your fault for being too idealistic.

The worst part was that there would not be any closure. But perhaps this fate was better than being rejected upon the first meeting. It hurt all the same, anyway.

You kept yourself occupied as best as you could, which manifested itself into more of just holing yourself up in your room, listening to sad music and cleaning away your thoughts.

Eventually, you forced yourself out of hiding and faced the music. The pitiful looks and words of comfort from friends and family felt more burdening than anything, but you knew they meant well.

You took it day by day, learning to slowly chisel off the bitterness that had engraved itself onto you. You didn’t want to become someone your past self would’ve hated.

Romantic love may not be on the table for you anymore, but there was still plenty of love to go around. And that was what you would tell yourself to move on. You had to move on, because time doesn’t wait for anyone.

The good news was that the start of university was not too long after, which gave you something to focus on rather than the gaping hole that your would-be-soulmate left.

University was a big change, but you were never one to be unnerved by change. The hardest part was finding where all the lecture halls and rooms were on campus, but other than that, you had successfully cemented yourself into uni life among hundreds of other students.

Faster than you could process, you settled into a comfortable rhythm: taking public transport to get to uni, attending lectures and tutorials, rotting away in the library to complete your weekly exercises, going home to sleep, then doing it all over again.

At least you didn’t have classes every day.

Ignoring the relentless workload, the freedom and flexibility that university offered in comparison to high school was a breath of fresh air.

You enjoyed romanticizing the train rides to university, getting lost in the scenery passing by with your Airpods on. Grabbing a coffee early in the morning, feeling as if you were an adult now. Feeling insignificant under the towering skyscrapers that the city boasted.

It was lonely though. With a fresh set of classmates every semester, it felt harder than ever to make friends. Your high school friends had branched out to different universities, and the ones that went to the same one as you, were busy with adapting to the new lifestyle.

You still met up from time to time, of course, but it wasn’t the same as seeing each other every day in high school.

So yes, it was incredibly lonely. It didn’t help that all you could see around you was the bright red of everyone’s loop, a reminder of what you lost.

You were in your zone, catching up on a lecture via recording and making notes, when the opening of a door startled you.

You looked up to see a girl who, despite her short stature, still exuded an intimidating vibe. You took out your Airpods.

“I booked this room.”

“Oh,” you frowned. You were so sure that you booked this room. You always did, this same room, on Wednesday, every week. “I thought I booked it, but maybe there was an error with the system.”

You started to pack up, the air painstakingly awkward as the stranger stood there and watched you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured.

You struggled under her scrutiny, fumbling over your pens and pencils as you internally berated yourself for not verifying the booking.

“You booked it?” She said after a while. (You were still packing up.) You felt small under her gaze, only nodding in response.

“Don’t worry about it then,” she mumbled, plopping herself on a chair. “We can share.”

“Oh.” Your hand that was stuffing your stationery into your backpack froze. “Are you sure?”

The stranger grunted and waved her hand dismissively. She then folded her arms on the table, leaning her forehead on it. You took that as a sign of the conversation ending.

You hesitantly sat back down and put in your Airpods again. You spent the rest of the time studying, occasionally glancing at the sleeping stranger. You were slightly concerned, more curious if anything.

It was around three hours later when she stirred back to life. You watched her out of the corner of your eye. She puffed her cheeks out as she ran her fingers through her hair, proceeding to check her phone before setting it down on the table.

She rested her chin on her folded arms, diverting her sole attention to you. You quickly averted your eyes back to your laptop screen, feeling her burning stare.

You suffered under her gaze for a few more minutes that seemed to drag itself out before you mustered up the courage to look back up.

Out of habit, you looked at her ring finger. It was something you had been meaning to stop. You wouldn’t want people staring at yours, but you couldn’t help yourself.

To your shock, her loop was also a pale pink. You hadn’t met someone else who also had a pink loop yet.

She noticed your fixated gaze. “Yeah. No soulmate for me.”

“Sorry,” you hastily said, sitting up straight. “I didn’t mean to look-”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

You bit your lip and showed her your ring finger. “No, really, I wasn’t judging. I’m the same.”

For the first time since meeting her, you seemed to pique her interest. She smiled as she leaned back, a mix of pride and dryness. You couldn’t really pinpoint it. “I cut mine. How about you?”

You wavered for a split second, but quickly shook the thought off. It’s just a coincidence. You tried to play it off. “Me too.”

“Really?” She tilted her head, still skeptical. “Why?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Didn’t feel right, you know. I wasn’t ready.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “God, finally someone that gets it. Everyone’s so obsessed with soulmates, I can’t stand it.”

“I know right,” you laughed awkwardly. Your response only seemed to spur her on.

“Soulmates are such a scam. Love should be a choice. Some stupid string shouldn’t dictate who I love,” she muttered, drumming her fingers on the table.

You nodded slowly. It sounded personal to her. You had never really seen it like that, but you could understand where she was coming from.

Maybe the pain I felt from the cut string was the same pain my soulmate felt when they got the string.

You weren’t sure how to feel about this. You didn’t have much time to dwell on it though, because the stranger spoke again.

“I’m Hanni.”

You were expecting a follow-up question, but realized she was waiting for a response. You promptly introduced yourself, although quite clumsily, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“You almost done with studying?” Hanni asked, kicking her feet on the table. You were pretty sure that was against the rules, but she didn’t seem to care.

“Kind of?”

“What do you study anyway?” You kept your eyes trained on your laptop while she kept hers on you.

“Actuarial studies.”

A whistle. “Damn. You must be crazy.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely something,” you scratched your nape before continuing meekly. “How about you?”

“Nothing,” Hanni closed her eyes, arms behind her head as she teetered the chair back. This left you on edge, you were scared she would fall. “Took a gap year.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what do you do with all the time?”

“Whatever I want. Which basically means nothing.”

“Cool,” you nodded stiffly. You were about to end the conversation there, but realized,

“Wait,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “So what are you doing at a uni library?”

She cracked an eye open for a second before smirking. You found this immensely attractive. “Is it not open to the public?”

“It is,” you backtracked. “Sorry-”

Hanni suddenly stood up and stretched. “I’m just messing with you. Most of the time, I come here to take a nap. Sometimes I meet up with my friends though.”

Not giving you any time to respond, she continued. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Oh,” you said, again. That was all you could say really, you weren’t the best with strangers. “Okay.”

Hanni stuffed her phone in her pocket as she shuffled towards the door, putting on her headphones again. You flexed your wrist before continuing to write down lecture notes.

“Hey.”

Hanni hovered at the door, hand on the doorframe. “We both like booking this room. You don’t mind sharing from now on, right?”

You tapped your pen on the desk to relieve your hand of its shakiness. “Yeah. I don’t mind.”

Hanni nodded. “I’ll see you next week.”

“See you…” You mumbled, but she had already walked out. You watched her leave. That initial gut feeling started to die down.

Hanni was someone you wouldn’t necessarily consider a friend in the first few weeks of knowing her. She was consistent though, you’ll give her that, always showing up to the same library room just to sleep for a solid 3 to 4 hours every Wednesday without fail.

So the conversations between you two were minimal. Not that you minded. But there was just something pulling you toward her, maybe it was her assertive nature and the way she carried herself with confidence, the complete opposite of you, or maybe it was the fact that she was very pretty.

Despite her being asleep most of the time, there was a subtle sense of tranquility that she brought — the idea that the two of you were in the same boat; you knew she wouldn’t walk on eggshells around the topic of soulmates around you. You liked that.

(It had been months since the incident. You thought your friends and family would’ve moved on by now, hell, even you have, but the way they tread lightly around you about soulmates was like opening old wounds.

It made you feel as if you were weak. As if you were a defect. You knew this wasn’t true. There was more to life than soulmates. This is what you had to learn.)

Before you knew it, two months had passed since your first meeting. Time flies when uni completely bombards you with assignments. It was just another ordinary Wednesday when Hanni decided to strike up a conversation.

“Hey.”

Hanni flung a pencil in your direction. It had only been ten minutes since she entered the room.

(It was your pencil. You had no idea how she got a hold of it.)

You barely had time to dodge before taking out your Airpods, slightly annoyed, but mostly perplexed.

“Do you do anything other than study?”

“Obviously…”

She still seemed dubious. “What do you like? Any hobbies?”

You paused.

“I like astronomy?” You said it as more of a question than a statement.

Hanni’s eyebrows furrowed. “Like signs and shit?”

“No,” you laughed softly. “That’s astrology. I mean, you know, space and all that.”

Hanni didn’t reply. You hoped that it was because of indifference, rather than judgment. You didn’t know why you cared anyway. You continued on with your work.

She spoke again a few minutes later. “What do you listen to?”

You took out your Airpods again. Usually, this would be irritating, but these seemingly trivial conversations and small talk somehow wormed their way up to be the highlight of your week.

“Um…” You trailed off. “How am I meant to show you?”

Hanni hummed in thought for a moment. “Do you use Spotify?”

You nodded. She grabbed your phone, pushed it in your face so it would unlock, and started tapping and doing who knows what. You just sat there, appalled by her brazenness.

She handed your phone back to you with a proud smile. “There. Our Spotify’s should be synced now.”

You don’t know why your face started to heat up. Something about listening to music together felt so intimate. Like you were opening a window into your soul.

“Are you sure you want to listen along?” You mumbled. “You might not like my taste in music…”

“I’m sure,” Hanni insisted. “It’s a good way to get to know a person.”

She stretched before settling comfortably into a familiar position, arms folded on the table. She motioned for you to put your Airpods in as she put her headphones back on, before dropping her forehead on her arms. “Wake me up when you’re done studying.”

You took a glance at the pale pink loop on her finger before focusing back on your work.

The sun was beginning to set by the time you finished, the sky painted with an array of vivid yellows and oranges.

You cracked your knuckles as you quietly started to pack up, observing a sleeping Hanni. If you strained your ears, you could hear faint snores, which you found quite endearing. You thought that Hanni was much cuter when she was asleep, a stark contrast to her usual brooding demeanor. Too cute that you almost didn’t wake her up, but guilt would eat you alive if you didn’t.

You cautiously poked her shoulder. “Hanni?”

It took a few more pokes until she blearily opened her eyes, grumbling under her breath. You retracted your hand as if she would bite. “You told me to wake you up…”

You suppressed a smile at the sight of a bright red mark on her forehead. “What time is it?”

“Just about to hit 7. I’m gonna head home.”

Just as you turned to leave, Hanni somehow got out of the chair in the blink of an eye and grabbed you. “Wait.”

You swiveled back around in confusion. She rested her headphones around her neck before stuffing her hands in her pocket. “Do you need to get home urgently?”

You shook your head.

“Okay,” Hanni said simply. “Let’s go.”

You wanted to ask “Go where?”, but Hanni brushed past you and was already walking out the door. You bit your lip. Surely you could spare an hour or two, just for today. You hurriedly adjusted your backpack on your shoulder before jogging to catch up to her.

Your hands were clammy for the entire walk. The sky continued to grow darker, and all the lessons of stranger danger that your parents had taught you were flashing in your head. Maybe it was a bit stupid to blindly follow someone you had barely talked to and only known for a few months or so. Well, if Hanni ended up kidnapping or killing you, at least you died to someone pretty.

Before your thoughts could derail further, Hanni finally stopped walking. Your legs were starting to ache. The last time you got this much cardio in was when you were running late for class in high school.

You took a few seconds to absorb your surroundings. It was a small lake, the water still as it reflected the last remnants of the sunset. It was secluded — you didn’t see or hear any other signs of life besides the inevitable chirping and buzzing of random insects. Hanni seated herself on a small grassy hill that faced the water, patting the space next to her as a signal for you to sit as well.

She leaned back and rested her head against the grass as she closed her eyes. You sat down awkwardly and set your weight on your backpack, just staring at her. Is she asleep again?

“Pretty, right?” She suddenly asked. Okay, not asleep. “I come here to think a lot.”

You gently tugged her hoodie over her head. She didn’t even flinch. You didn’t want bugs to crawl into her hair. “What do you think about?”

You were caught off guard by her deflection. “How do you think your soulmate is doing?”

“What?”

“You cut off your string, right? How do you think they’re doing?”

“Oh,” you tensed. “I’m not too sure. I hope they’re okay, wherever they are.”

Hanni hummed. “You’re awfully nice.”

You hesitated before asking the pressing question on your mind. “Do you really hate the idea of soulmates that much? What if you met them?”

“I wouldn’t say hate,” Hanni clicked her tongue. “I don't really know how to explain it, but I want everything to be my choice, you know? I don’t believe in things like fate. I just happen to meet people, and I choose who I want to stay and who I want to love.”

She shifted before continuing. “And I’ve seen what the string can do. People get too attached to the idea of soulmates, but sometimes they never end up meeting them and are left heartbroken, or their soulmate turns out to be a terrible person. So what good is it, really?”

You bit your cheek as you reflected on her words. Your instinct was telling you that there was more to the story, but it wasn’t your place to ask.

“And I don’t know what I’d do if I ever met my soulmate. I wouldn’t even know it’s them, first of all. But I guess if they’re a decent person, we could start off as friends.”

Hanni finished off with a sigh. “Anyway, enough of my rant. Can you spot any constellations? Or whatever astronomy entails.”

You stared at the sky. You could see the faint twinkling of stars if you tried hard enough. The wonders of light pollution.

“I actually don’t know much about astronomy,” you answered sheepishly. “I just remember having a space phase in, like, 4th grade. And so now I just remember random facts about space and find everything about it pretty.”

Hanni opened her eyes and turned to face you. “Tell me one.”

You pursed your lip in thought for a second, racking your brain. “Magellan was the first teddy bear in space in 1995. It even got a special astronaut suit. Very charming fella.”

You showed her a picture of it on your phone with a stupid smile. You felt your face warm up as Hanni chuckled at the photo, eyes crinkling. Ah. Her smile is so cute.

You cleared your throat to alleviate your fluster. “How about you? What are you into?”

“Nothing special,” she shrugged. “Music and games. Do you play games?”

“Not really,” you admitted. “I remember illegally downloading the Sims and never playing it after my Sim randomly died from a kitchen fire.”

Hanni cracked a smile. “Happens to the best of us.”

"By the way," you said curiously. "Did you learn a lot from my music taste?"

"I did actually," she smirked with arrogance. "You seem to be the sentimental type. A romantic."

"Huh," you blinked.

"You don't need to say anything," she continued smugly. "I already know I'm right."

The buzzing of your phone cut the conversation short. Your mother was calling.

“Oh no,” you winced as you slowly got up. “I lost track of time. I should get going.”

It looked like she wanted to say something, but chose not to. “See you.”

“Don’t you have places to be?”

She flicked her gaze from the lake to you, one that was unexpectedly intense. “Yeah. But I’ll stay here for a bit longer.”

“Okay,” you lingered there for a few seconds. “Stay safe.”

You started making your way home, oddly feeling content.

As more months passed by, the lake became a spot of solace for the two of you, meeting there regularly when either of you felt like talking (mostly Hanni). It was a bit hard at first, getting used to spontaneous hangouts (usually you enjoyed the comfort and stability of routine), but Hanni’s presence was a big help. You learned a lot from her, and especially admired her self-assurance.

You cherished these times as it was an opportunity to learn more about Hanni. Like the fact that she worked at the cafe on campus, despite hating coffee.

(You wondered how you never saw her.)

And the fact that she had performed for her high school talent show and ended up being the grand winner. And the fact that she once slept through the night at the library, and then woke up to the blinding light of a security guard’s flashlight shining in her face.

The more you got to know her, the more your feelings for her grew. Which you found to be quite problematic, because you were such a firm believer of soulmates all your life. Although there was that minuscule possibility that Hanni was your soulmate, you felt as though you were betraying your soulmate by falling for someone else.

Surely, it was free real estate. Your soulmate was the one who cut the string after all. To be honest, they probably don’t care at all. You don’t know why you were creating such a fuss about it. It was your inner guilt clawing at you. Didn't liking someone who wasn't your soulmate debunk the idea of soulmates itself?

You thought about what Hanni would say. You could hear her voice in your head: Love is a choice. Soulmates shouldn’t determine who you love. As much as it conflicted with you, every time you woke up to the thought of her, you found yourself agreeing with her more and more.

You also started to like the pale pink loop on your finger more and more.

“Hey.”

You sat cross-legged on familiar ground, picking at the grass. Hanni hadn’t come to the library today, which left you embarrassingly worried, but she had texted you to meet at the lake around 15 minutes ago. The two of you exchanged contact information the week after the first lake hangout. The two of you didn’t text though. That was, until today. “What are you doing here?”

Hanni’s eyes were closed, as usual. She seemed to ponder a lot. You always wondered what was on her mind. “Thinking.”

“And you called me here because…?”

“Figured you needed a break.” The corner of her lips tugged up. You let out a small smile too. Behind her nonchalant tone and nature, she was surprisingly sweet.

“What are you thinking about this time?”

“You.”

“Me?” You sputtered. “What about me?”

Hanni let out a breath. “My bad. I should be more specific. I’m thinking about my feelings for you.”

Luckily her eyes were still closed, because your face was turning red at an alarming pace.

“Really?” You squeaked. “And what are those feelings?”

“Good feelings. Something that could grow into love, I think.” She opened her eyes to meet yours.

“Oh,” you said. “...I may share those feelings.”

She closed her eyes again, a satisfied smile on her face. “Good. We’re dating now.”

You blinked in astonishment.

“It’s that easy?” You muttered to yourself. “I thought after getting my string cut, I’d never find love again.”

Hanni abruptly sat up. “What?”

You blanched at her cold tone. “What?”

“You didn’t cut your string?”

Shit. The air became tense, her anger palpable. Your hands tightened around a patch of grass. You bit your lip in shame. “...I’m sorry.”

“When?”

You looked at her in confusion.

“When was it cut?” She asked, exasperated.

“December,” you murmured, your throat clogging up. “The 4th of December.”

“Fuck!” She turned away. “That’s when I cut mine.”

Oh. She stood up and started pacing around in circles, running her hand through her hair in what you thought to be frustration. There was a whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest — fear, guilt, regret, but also joy, as crazy as it sounded.

Hanni was your soulmate. You had to repeat that to yourself internally to really process it. Of course it would be her. Who else would it be?

You pulled yourself back to reality. Reality being a very distressed Hanni who would blow up and ghost you if you didn’t do something.

“Why did you lie?” You hated how you could hear the raspiness in her voice.

You desperately tried to explain yourself. “I panicked the first time we met. But I never thought to tell you after that because I thought you would hate me for believing in soulmates."

“I’m not that spiteful. It wouldn’t have mattered to me if you believed in soulmates.”

“But we wouldn’t be where we are now,” you reasoned, your voice raw. “We started talking because we bonded over the fact that we both cut our strings.”

“Look at where we’re at now,” Hanni bitterly muttered. “I feel like our relationship is a lie.”

“It’s not,” you stammered. “This doesn’t have to change anything.”

Hanni whipped her head around with a glare. “Of course it changes everything!”

Her eyes softened when you flinched at the harshness of her voice. “Look, it’s just that I genuinely thought that I could finally be loved without either of us being bound by a stupid string.”

You plucked out another strand of grass. “There’s another reason, isn’t there? Of why you hate soulmates so much.”

She stopped walking back and forth. “Yeah.”

“Might as well air everything out, right?” You offered a wry smile.

Silence. You thought that this was the end, but she sat down, a bit further from you than before, and spoke again. “Long story short: I was in love. She was in love with me too. A year into the relationship, she got her string. She didn’t tell me. She just broke up with me and blocked me on everything. Found out days later when one of my friends told me about her new relationship with her soulmate.”

You wanted to reach out and grab her hand to comfort her, but that would have probably just made her hate you more.

“I’m sorry,” you swallowed, an ache in your chest. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Now that I know we’re soulmates, how do I know if any of our feelings are true? What if this whole relationship, from when we first met to now, was all because of ‘fate’?” Hanni said in a flurry, aggressively ripping out grass. “How much of my feelings are really mine?”

You flattened your hands in the grass to stop them from trembling. “I don’t know. But if we both like each other despite not knowing that we’re soulmates, and even after the fact that our string is cut, doesn’t that mean something? That this was our choice?”

Another pause. You held your breath.

“I need some time to think,” Hanni closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. “You should get going.”

You shakily stood up and took one last glance at her before turning around to leave, your voice small. “Stay safe.”

You didn’t see Hanni for the next two weeks. She didn’t turn up to the library, and you didn’t expect her to. You still felt a pang of disappointment regardless.

The revelation that Hanni was your soulmate weighed heavily in your mind. But that wasn’t the main issue. It was Hanni’s reaction to the fact that created an uneasy feeling in your chest. You found humor in the way that the thread that binded you together ended up being the thread that unraveled everything.

You cried for the first few nights, because you knew it was all your fault. It was like reliving that day in December all over again. At least you got some form of closure though — an explanation as to why your string was cut. But eventually, you accepted the fact that if this was to work out, you would both have to make a deliberate choice.

Your choice being to wait, and Hanni's being to forgive. You once believed love was all about fate, but after meeting Hanni, you learned that it was about choice, too.

You carried on with your routine as usual, but Hanni’s absence followed you wherever you went. The library room felt emptier, quieter. You just hoped that she was okay, wherever she was.

Was it selfish of you to be celebrating the fact that Hanni was your soulmate, when she clearly resented it? Your feelings for her didn’t change, they were the same before and after the realization that you were soulmates. Again, you hoped she would come to the same conclusion too, and still feel the same.

You didn't try to reach out to her or to find her working on campus. She needed the time and space, and you promised yourself you would wait for her.

The next time you met was not planned. It was a Wednesday, like always, and you had just finished a grueling 3-hour study session. The sky was particularly pink today, and it reminded you of Hanni. You found that a lot of things would remind you of her these days. You missed her greatly.

You decided to go to the lake. You lay down on the grass, closing your eyes. Doing this made you feel closer to Hanni somehow. Your mind meandered and you could imagine her here, doing the exact same thing. The solitude of the lake brought some temporary peace to your restlessness.

You got lost in your thoughts for the next hour before you heard the sound of footsteps, steadily growing louder and louder. Fear ran through your veins before you relaxed at the sound of Hanni’s voice.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied, voice hoarse. You kept your eyes closed. You didn't think you could handle Hanni’s gaze for this conversation. You felt her sit down next to you, her hand brushing against yours. You tried to ignore the goosebumps that followed and the heat radiating off her body.

It was silent for the next few minutes. After a bit, you opened your mouth to speak, but Hanni beat you to it.

“Did you really not know we were soulmates?”

“No,” you confessed. “I knew there was a small possibility, but I thought it was too good to be true.”

You swallowed as there was no response. “...How are you feeling?”

You heard her sigh. “Confused.”

“Can I tell you what my parents said when I asked them for advice?” You asked tentatively.

Hanni made a small noise of approval.

“They told me that the string doesn’t mean you don’t have a choice. The two can coexist. They said there are plenty of people who meet their soulmates, but choose to be friends. And that they can still end up in a happy relationship with someone else.”

You gave yourself time to breathe before continuing. "I know that what happened in the past hurt you. But, don't let that define your view on soulmates. I think love is choice as much as it is fate."

“Thank you,” she breathed out after a while. “I think I realized that in the past two weeks, but I’m just stubborn.”

“And just to be clear,” you started slowly. “I still would have feelings for you. Soulmate or not.”

You felt the weight of the world fall off your shoulders as she replied, “Me too.”

“Hanni,” you bit your lip to stop a growing smile as you tested the waters. “Are we still dating like you said?”

Your smile only widened as you heard her laugh. “That didn’t count.”

Your ears perked up as the sound of Hanni shuffling around filled the air.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Just keep your eyes closed.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you felt something wrap around your ring finger, but your doubt quickly washed away as you recognized her movement. You waited for her to finish before opening your eyes.

You looked down to see a very real, tangible pink string connecting your ring finger to hers. You grinned as you tugged on it. This was infinitely better than the red string.

“Now it’s official,” Hanni huffed, turning away to look at the lake with the tip of her ears colored pink.

Your heart was full, it felt as though it could erupt at any given moment. “Thank you for choosing me.”

Hanni smiled softly. “And thank you to the string for leading us to each other.”

The two of you watched the sun dip below the horizon, bathing in the soft pink and purple hues.

You think that pink is definitely your favorite color now, though red would always be a close second.

("...There's no more secrets between us right?"

"No," you quietly chuckled. "That's all I have. You?"

"I..." Hanni cleared her throat. "Remember the first time we met? I actually didn't book the room."

You almost broke your neck from how fast you whipped your head to face her. "What?"

There was a guilty smile on her face. "Usually, I just storm into a random room and say that to kick people out. People just believe me and leave."

"Wow," you said in disbelief. Of course Hanni would do something like that. "So why did you let me stay?"

"To be honest, you were kind of pissing me off because of how long you were taking to pack up, and I just wanted to sleep," she admitted sheepishly. "But, let's just say that it was fate."

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. "Right. Fate.")

#newjeans x reader #newjeans fanfic #newjeans fic #pham hanni x reader #hanni pham x reader

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beanmachine69 · 11 months

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Favourites | Charles Leclerc

(Mentions of smut, minors dni)

You were on your side, ass pressed up against his crotch, one of his arms was under your head, and the other was on your waist. He was scrolling through his phone with the hand that was under your head, slowly humming a melody you couldn't quite put a name to, but was familiar nonetheless.

Both of you had an airpod or earphone in one ear, as to not disturb the other but also not be completely oblivious to each other either. It was just one of those nights, where you both had an exhausting day, and just needed to be close to each other. From the high floor at which your hotel room was located, you could see the city lights blinking away, every light indicating another story, another life that was oblivious to the other.

You were on TikTok, but had put your phone down a few moments ago to focus on Charles' humming, and the way you could feel his breath on you; it was all quite relaxing. It would have been a perfect moment, if only that question hadn't started nagging you in the back of your head. You tried to reason with yourself, knowing the answer and not wanting to disrupt the peace. You were trying to resist the urge to ask, but everytime you felt his breath, and acknowledged his presence, you just couldn't resist the urge any longer. You decided you both had been in peaceful silence far too long, and asked your silly question.

"Charles?" You asked, hearing him stop his humming.

"Yes, darling?" He asked, moving his hand off your waist and to his ear to remove his airpod.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

You had his full attention now, he swiftly placed his airpod on the nightstand behind him, placing his arm at its usual position, and placed his phone on the sheets infront of you. Undivided attention.

"Promise you'll answer?" You needed confirmation before you even brought the question up. You knew how silly it would be and you needed to bind him down to answer it.

He hesitated a moment, curious to the nature of the question.

"Uh, I don't like where this is going." He chuckled.

"Please just promise you'll answer it, I know it's silly." You whined, slightly turning around to face him so he could see your pout.

"Fine, fine, I'll answer." Charles agreed, he was hesitant, obviously, but it never took you much to convince him.

"Do you have a favourite boob?" You asked, relieved to scratch the question off your brain.

"Huh?" He let out an unidentifiable noise before he started laughing into your neck, pulling away to kiss it when he'd stopped laughing.

"Answer meee." You whined again, you really needed to know.

"Oh God darling, what did you see on TikTok now? Your page thingy is so weird most days." He laughed.

"I didn't see it on Tiktok, I was just wondering. Everyone has a favourite." You lied, ofcourse you'd seen it on Tiktok, you saw some stupid teenage couple do it and now you wanted to know whether your boyfriend preffered a specific boob or not.

"You're telling me you didn't see this on Tiktok, and that this question just appeared in your brain?" He was suspicious, and rightfully so. At this point, he was used to your antics, finding himself quite fond of them and being entertained by your strange little quips here and there.

"Okay, maybe I did, but that's not the point, you're not answering the question." You huffed. You were getting an answer to your question one way or another.

"Okay okay, uhhh," He began laughing again, genuinely in awe at the question. He'd never thought of it before, frankly he'd barely get a chance to think straight when he'd see you topless, let alone have enough of a thought process to pick a favourite. Getting flustered at the absurdity of the thought, he began laughing again; the whole situation was so bizarre he couldn't help but laugh.

"Charles," You whined, pressing your ass up against him. "Please just answer the questionn."

You heard him inhale sharply as your ass pressed against him- the nature of the question, your actions and your whining were not helping him one bit in maintaining his composure enough to think of a way to get out of this situation.

"Darling, I don't have a favourite." He whispered into your neck, slowly moving his lips as he kissed the soft skin.

"Yeah you do, everyone does, you have to have a boob you prefer." You were stretching your words out, whining just a little. You knew how to get under his skin.

"Okay alright, come here." His hand moved upwards from your waist, cupping one of your boobs in his hand. He slowly began massaging it, kneading it in his hands as your ass started slowly grinding against him.

He moved his hand to the other boob, massaging and kneading it, lightly pinching your nipple in between his finger before letting out a 'hm' noise and pulling his hand away and onto your stomach. His hands were soft and gentle, and always felt good on you.

"So?" You asked, halting your grinding.

"I don't know babe, I really can't pick a favourite." He replied, pressing his hard dick onto your ass, in hopes that you'd start grinding on him again.

You let out a whine as a response to his answer. You knew you didn't need to even bother using your words anymore, you were so close to him you could feel his breath on you slightly damp neck and it was driving you crazy. The question and your desire for it's answer were losing importance in your mind as your need for him was taking over.

"Maybe I need to," His lips found their way back onto the sensitive skin on your neck, "Taste them to see which one I prefer, hm?"

"Oh yeah." You nodded eagerly, careful to not hit his head with yours. He laughed again into your neck and you could feel the vibrations in your back from his chest. If you thought the day was long, the night was only going to be longer.

A/N: Hi! This idea came in my head like last night at 4 am, so if there's any mistakes, or errors please excuse it ahaha.

As usual, feel free to send in criticism or requests, both would be appreciated.

#f1 fic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble #f1 drabble #f1 blurb #ferrari

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chvoswxtch · 1 year

Text

it's like that

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: after taking on a new project at work, a figure from your past makes an appearance that doesn't sit well with frank.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of violence

word count: 8k

a/n: buckle up, sluts (I say with all the love in my heart). this part 4 & it is long (about 25 pages) so grab a snack, a drink, & get comfy. thank you to @imalittleanon for being my lovely beta reader, & thank all of you for continuing to enjoy reading this series as much as I love writing it. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

btw there's a few easter eggs from season 1 of the punisher in this. enjoy 🖤

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F. Castle

Those black letters had been staring up at you for over an hour. When you walked into your office this morning, the manila folder with Frank’s name on it was waiting on your desk. A furrow formed between your brows as you quickly looked around your office, not catching anyone’s eyes when you looked out into the hallway. You cautiously walked over towards your desk, fingertips barely tracing over the label with his name on it, as you tried to figure out who might have left it.

Your fingers paused when a name suddenly popped into your head.

Billy.

»»———　　———««

“Where the hell’s he goin’?”

Billy stared down at you curiously, eyes continuously darting back and forth between Frank’s ghost and your stunned expression. You hadn’t realized that you’d still been standing in the exact spot that Frank left you in, completely oblivious of all the other couples dancing around your statue. Billy gently grabbed onto your shoulder, dark brows pulling together towards the center of his forehead as he bent down slightly to reach your eye level.

“Y/N?”

“I wanna go home.”

Billy’s face immediately morphed into a more serious expression, and he transitioned into full on bodyguard mode. Wrapping his arm around your waist to lead you towards the hall with the elevators, he pulled an ear piece out of his pocket to slip in and brought his wrist up to his mouth to speak into his comms.

“Bring the car around front, now.”

Pressing the call button for one of the elevators, Billy turned his attention fully on your silent form.

“What happened?”

All you could think about was Frank’s words, echoing in your ears over and over and over as his vengeful glare bore into your eyes.

She died.

Billy grasped onto your shoulders a little firmer to capture your attention, bending down again to be level with your eyesight as he kept his voice calm.

“Y/N, I need you to tell me if this is an emotional thing, or a threat thing, so I know how to direct my guys. Because I’ve got no fuckin’ idea why Frank just took off like that, and the look on your face is makin’ me nervous. Talk to me, Y/N/N.”

“I just wanna go home, Billy.”

Billy’s stare was unwavering, even as the metal doors of the elevator parted with a ding. His dark eyes scanned over your face and entire body before he gave a slight nod of his head and ushered you into the elevator, pulling his comms up to his mouth again.

“Everyone report to your vehicles. We’re headed to the lobby. I’m takin’ Y/L/N home.”

The glass of the window was cool against your temple when you rested your head against it, closing your eyes for a moment as you let out a shuddering breath. All you could see flashing behind your eyelids was Frank’s face.

Billy pulled his ear piece out as he eyed you, tucking it back into his jacket pocket.

“What happened with Frank?”

“I shouldn’t have asked him.”

“Asked him what?”

The busy streets of New York passed by in a blur as you watched out the window, but you couldn’t see any of it. All you could see was his face.

“I thought…when I saw the ring around his neck…I thought he was getting divorced. I didn’t know that…that his wife…”

You couldn’t even finish that sentence. Your brain was still trying to process the way Frank had said it. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Billy immediately stiffen, and his facial features became darker as you looked over at him.

“Did you know her?”

Billy clenched his jaw tightly as he stared straight ahead, only giving a slight nod of his head.

“She was like family. She was family.”

“What hap-”

“Not my place to say.”

Billy’s voice was stern, with a slight edge to it, and you immediately let the endless questions bubbling in your throat die on your tongue. The rest of the ride was completely silent as you tried to wrap your brain around all of this new information. You knew that Billy and Frank had known each other for a long time, but you didn’t realize just how close they were. Your heart felt heavy in your chest, overflowing with guilt for ripping open a wound not just for Frank, but for Billy too.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t…I wasn’t trying to…I’m-”

“You didn’t know.”

“It’s not my business.”

Billy’s eyes were a little more sympathetic than the rest of his features as he looked at you. As soon as his car pulled up outside your home, you rushed to unbuckle yourself, wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the mess you had made as possible.

“Thank you…for everything, tonight. I’m just gonna-”

“I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m still on the clock.”

Billy didn’t give you another chance to protest as he opened his door to get out, coming around to meet you on your side so that he could walk you up to your door. Whatever nerve you had struck with him had completely evaporated the playful mood he was usually in, and you found yourself missing that version of him in place of this one. Your fingers trembled as you pulled your keys from your purse, and your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you both stood in front of your door.

“Billy…I’m so sorry-”

“You can’t help it. It’s the investigative journalist in you.”

Billy attempted to give you a reassuring smile, but it never made it to the edges of his mouth. He let out a deep exhale through his nose, adjusting his tie as he glanced around silently for a moment.

“Give him time. Frankie’s kinda like a cat. You gotta let him come to you.”

Letting out a shaky breath, you traced your thumb over your key, staring down at it for a moment as you tried to figure out what to say. You didn’t want to see the hurt and disappointment in Billy’s eyes.

“Thank you…for coming with me tonight. And…for everything. I really appreciate it.”

“If you wanted to go on a date with me so bad, all you had to do was ask, doll.”

When your eyes snapped up, Billy’s signature cocky smirk was back on his lips, and his eyes were softer and shining with mischief. A little bit of the weight from earlier felt like it had been lifted off your shoulders, and you rolled your eyes as you tried to fight the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“I’d never give you the satisfaction, Russo.”

»»———　　———««

Billy had to have been the one that left it. But why? What did he want you to know?

You had spent the past hour waging an internal war with yourself over it. Part of you desperately wanted to know what was inside, especially if it had answers about Frank and his wife. A bigger part of you felt guilty at the idea of invading his privacy like that. If he wanted you to know, he would tell you.

Why would Frank want you to know? Why had he even brought it up at the gala? He could’ve lied. He could’ve said anything but that.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you grabbed the folder and shoved it into your bag, deciding it was a problem for later since you had a staff meeting in five minutes. Grabbing your notebook and pen in one hand and your coffee in the other, you made your way to the large meeting room where everyone was gathering around, taking a seat towards the front of the long table. Your editor adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose as he clasped his hands together.

“Alright, I’m sure most of you heard by now, but there was another bomb attack this morning right in front of the Royal Hospitality hotel. We don’t have a lot of details right now, but we do know a car parked out front was rigged to explode. This was most likely directed at senatorial candidate Stan Ori. He was supposed to deliver a speech there for his campaign about gun control this morning. We don’t have confirmation on the number of injuries or deaths yet. Ground team, I want you as close to the scene as possible. Get me everything you can: eye witness statements, pictures, anything. Internal team, I want you contacting all our sources at NYPD and Metro General for anything we can use. We need to run something today, the sooner the better. We clear? Alright, get to work. Y/L/N, stay back a minute.”

Confusion settled over your features as you stared up at your editor, watching as everyone quickly scattered out of the room. Once the two of you were alone, he let out a deep sigh and settled his hands on his hips while giving you a pointed look.

“I don’t want you touching this.”

Fury instantly spread through your bloodstream as you abruptly stood up from your chair.

“You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“Ellison-”

“You are already too close to this. Do I need to remind you why you’re walking around with a shadow?”

“This is my job-”

“Your job is to write what I tell you, and I am telling you this is off limits.”

“Ellison, I was with Stan when they called into that radio interview. I can get an exclusive with him-”

“So they can threaten you?”

“They’ve already threatened me!”

“Which is exactly why you aren’t going anywhere near this, Y/N. I am not making the same mistake with you that I made with Ben. Do you understand?”

All the fire raging within you suddenly fizzled out at the mention of Ben’s name, and you slowly deflated. Ben Urich had been somewhat of a mentor to you when you started at the Bulletin. He had been an incredible writer that published some of the most groundbreaking stories the paper had ever seen, and he had begrudgingly taken you under his wing once he realized you weren’t going to give him an option not to. The office you worked out of now had once been his, and you hadn’t changed a single thing about it.

Ben had gotten too close to Wilson Fisk in the process of writing an article to expose him for what he really was, and while it was never proven in court, you knew Fisk had been the one that murdered him.

“Yeah…I understand.”

“I know you hate this shit. Okay, I do too. But pride is not worth losing your life over.”

“It’s not pride, Ellison. It’s…anger. I’m tired and angry.”

“Kind of a shame your beloved Punisher was gunned down. If there was ever a time I wished that guy was still alive, it’s now. Never thought I would ever say that, but…he probably would’ve had these assholes taken care of after the first attack. He was efficient, I’ll give him that.”

Shooting a glare in Ellison’s direction, you crossed your arms defiantly over your chest as you shook your head.

“He wasn’t-I never said he was…shut up.”

You knew Ellison was right to forbid you from covering the attacks. You had already put yourself at risk too much already. But it didn’t make it any less infuriating.

As you stormed back into your office, you slammed your door shut so hard, it rattled the hinges. A frustrated groan fell from your lips as you tiredly rubbed your palms down your face.

“That good, huh?”

Jumping at the sound of Frank’s deep voice cutting through the silence of your office, you quickly spun around to see him sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he stared over at you, and you swore you saw the faintest of smiles threatening to spill over his lips.

“What…where did you come from?”

“You want the long answer, or the short one?”

You stared at him in complete disbelief. Frank was sitting calmly in the corner of your office, giving you sass like he hadn’t just told you an Earth-shattering revelation no more than seventy-two hours ago before completely disappearing again. He cocked his head to the side as he stared over at you, arching one of his dark brows quizzically.

“Ya’know, as your keeper, it’s pretty concernin’ how little regard you have for your own safety.”

“What?”

“I coulda shot you, or came up behind you with a knife. You wouldn’t have even known I was in here. You really gotta start checkin’ rooms before you enter ‘em, and lockin’ your goddamn door. You even got anythin’ in here to protect yourself with?”

“Yeah, you.”

Frank’s eyes narrowed at your response, and you crossed your arms over your chest as you arched one of your brows in return. If he wanted to do sassy today, you could do sassy, and you could do it better.

“I meant a weapon, smartass.”

“Again, you. Isn’t that what they’re paying you for?”

“How ‘bout when I’m not here?”

“Then I get your replacement. At least, that’s what I’ve been getting every time you’ve gone MIA lately.”

Frank’s jaw instantly tensed at your snappy reply, and you didn’t miss the way he sat up a little straighter in the chair. Lightly scoffing, you rolled your eyes as you stalked over to your desk to sit down, tossing your notebook and pen carelessly onto it.

“Should I sign up for self defense classes? Or just skip straight to buying a gun, Frank? What’s your professional recommendation?”

Were you being bitchy? Absolutely. Did Frank deserve it? Abso-fucking-lutey. You were not in the mood to deal with his emotional whiplash today.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Just seems to be National Asshole Day, and lucky me. I get to deal with all the biggest contenders.”

Frank grunted in annoyance as a sharp exhale left his nose, and you could feel his eyes staring daggers into the side of your face.

“Whenever you’re done throwin’ your fuckin’ tantrum and can talk to me like an adult, let me know. Yeah?”

You swiftly whipped your head in Frank’s direction, eyes wild with rancor and bewilderment at the audacity for him to say that to you when he was the one that consistently vanished instead of communicating. Frank’s lips were pursed in almost a pout, and there was a clear challenge shining in his eyes as he stared you down. Both of you refused to look away, or blink, like you were having a fucking staring contest. But Frank clearly hadn’t learned by now that you were just as stubborn as he was.

“I’ll start when you start.”

A muscle feathered in Frank’s strong jaw, and he nodded his head slowly as he leaned back in the chair, spreading his legs a little wider as he calmly crossed his arms over his chest.

“So it’s like that, then?”

“Yeah, Frank. It’s like that.”

Frank stared you down silently as you narrowed your eyes in dissent, a look of irritation and complete exasperation etched onto his features. Shaking his head with a scoff, he slapped his hands on his thighs before suddenly standing, his boots thudding heavily against the floor as he marched over towards your door.

“Where are you going?”

“To find somethin’ to fix that fuckin’ attitude of yours.”

A scornful laugh slipped past your lips as Frank spoke to you over his shoulder, shutting your door far less than gently as he disappeared down the hallway. You slipped your fingers into your hair and ran them through to the ends in frustration, angrily unlocking your computer as you swore under your breath.

“Asshole.”

Twenty minutes later, Frank reappeared in your office, slamming a very large iced coffee along with a small brown paper bag down on your desk. A crease formed between your brows when you noticed the name of your favorite cafe on the cup, and you tilted your head back to look up at Frank in complete perplexity.

“What’s this?”

“Knowin’ you, you ain’t ate nothin’ today, and you’re particular ‘bout your coffee. Figured between bein’ hangry and drinkin’ that shit they pass off as coffee in your breakroom, this would take care of at least two reasons you’re such a ray of fuckin’ sunshine today.”

You’d been so wrapped up in watching the news coverage of the attack this morning, you had almost forgotten about your little spat with Frank earlier. You followed his large frame with your eyes as he plopped back down into the chair he had claimed as his, grunting as he stared out your window with a broody look on his face while sipping his own coffee.

Frank didn’t normally sit in your office. He usually sat outside to get a better vantage point of all the exits, and to keep an eye on who was coming through the building. There were usually two other guards with Frank that stayed outside in a car, and you knew they were there because you had seen them on your way in. Even though you were still a little upset with him about his behavior at the gala, it was comforting having him to keep you company. Even if you two were in the middle of an argument.

Reaching for the cup, you closed your eyes and let out a quiet hum of approval as the familiar taste of blonde espresso and sweet cream cold foam hit your taste buds. Frank had a point. The coffee in your break room was terrible, but you’d been in a rush this morning and hadn’t had time to make any of your own or stop by your favorite place. You had been forcing yourself to drink the break room coffee because you desperately needed the caffeine.

You had guzzled nearly a fourth of the cup when you finally opened your eyes, noticing that Frank was staring at you with a mixture of incredulity and entertainment on his face. He shook his head slowly as a deep chuckle sounded in his chest, lifting his own cup to take a sip as a delighted grin threatened to take over the corner of his mouth. A layer of blush instantly coated your cheeks at his reaction.

“What are you laughing at?”

“You.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re so fuckin’ easy to please.”

For some reason that made you blush even harder, and your mouth snapped shut as you looked away to find your computer screen suddenly very interesting.

“Eat that damn muffin so we can call a truce.”

As nice as it was having Frank’s company, it was also pretty unnerving. You had to be hyper aware of everything you did knowing that he was watching you, which made you nervous considering you had a lot of weird fucking habits you mostly did subconsciously. Once you had sucked down half your coffee and eaten a good portion of the muffin, you looked over to find Frank already staring at you, arching one of his dark brows in question.

“You good now?”

Capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, you glanced down at your computer screen and nodded, too embarrassed to even look at him. Now that all your anger from earlier had vaporized, you felt bad about the way you had spoken to him. You had no idea what it was like to lose someone close to you like that. You had no knowledge of how something like that could change a person.

Ever since Frank had told you about his wife’s death, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You wondered how long it had been since he’d lost her, and how. You wondered if he got to say goodbye. You kept thinking about how you weren’t sure if you would have the strength to go on after losing the person you loved most. To try and find another purpose in life, a reason to get out of bed in the morning, any semblance of meaning again.

Frank stood up and came over to sit in the chair directly in front of your desk, setting his coffee cup down on the edge of it. You lifted your gaze to meet his, noting the softer look in his eyes and watching as he nodded in your direction with his chin.

“You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on, now?”

A soft sigh slipped past your lips as you tucked your hair behind your ears, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your desk and hold onto the back of your neck with your hands.

“There was another attack this morning.”

“I heard.”

“Fifteen people were injured. Four of them…they aren’t sure if they’re gonna make it through the night. Three were killed. Ellison doesn’t want me anywhere near it. He told me to stay away, said it was too dangerous.”

“He’s right.”

Frank let out a sigh when you looked at him, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he glanced around your office.

“The more you antagonize ‘em, the harder they’re gonna come for you.”

“So I don’t get to do my job because they don’t like what I have to say.”

“If it keeps you safe, yeah.”

Letting out a heavy exhale, you sank back into your chair as you crossed your arms over your chest. Frank moved his chair closer to your desk so he could place his arms on it, leaning in closer as he looked at you with sympathy.

“I know it ain’t fair-”

“No, it isn’t. It’s frustrating. This whole thing is so…fucked. They’re hurting and…murdering innocent people, and for what? To terrorize people into agreeing with them? I just…I don’t understand how they haven’t been caught yet. How much longer do they get away with this?”

“They’re not gettin’ away with it.”

“I don’t know, Frank. It seems like they are. No one knows who these people are. There’s no leads, no solid evidence, nothing. And now, I’m not allowed to do my job. I don’t want them to take my silence as compliance, or fear. I don’t want them to think they got to me, and they won. And I realize that is a stupid thing to think right now, but this whole thing just…pisses me off. I just want this shit to be over. I mean, who the fuck just goes around blowing shit up like that?”

“There’s nothin’ in this world I hate as much as a goddamn bomb. Goddamn cowards. They think they’re gonna scare people into doin’ what they want. They’re wrong. It just pisses people off, ya’know, brings ‘em together, makes ‘em stronger. New York doesn’t forget. Whoever this is, they’re in for a world of shit.”

Rubbing your palms tiredly down your face, you let out another frustrated sigh.

“Hey, I know this shit sucks right now. But it ain’t gonna last forever. These fuckers are gonna get what’s comin’ to ‘em. Then you can go back to callin’ people pussies on the radio.”

A tiny smirk curled at the edge of your mouth as you looked across your desk at Frank.

“I wasn’t allowed to use that word.”

“I know. But I also know it’s the one you wanted to use.”

A knowing smirk ghosted over Frank’s lips, and it only made your smile stretch further. You tilted your head to the side as you looked over at him curiously.

“You listened to it?”

“Course. Read your articles too.”

“I didn’t know you were a fan, Frank.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetheart. I was debriefed on you and why I was havin’ to follow your trouble makin’ ass around. It was part of my homework.”

“Whatever you say, Castle. Just let me know if you want me to sign something, or you know, a picture.”

Frank rolled his eyes as a chuckle slipped past his lips, leaning back into the chair as he folded his arms behind his head.

“Think I liked you better when you were mad at me.”

»»———　　———««

Frank tugged at the tie around his neck with a grunt, staring up at the looming courthouse in complete disdain.

“Don’t see why I gotta get all dressed up for this shit.”

“Frank, you’re wearing jeans. I’d hardly say you’re dressed up.”

“You said I gotta wear a tie.”

“Because there’s a dress code.”

“I don’t work here. The hell that gotta do with me?”

“Because I’m the press, and you’re with me.”

Frank let out another irritated grunt as he followed close behind you up the numerous sets of steps.

“I tell you lately I really don’t like your fuckin’ job?”

A loud laugh slipped past your lips at the annoyed look on Frank’s face, placing your hand on his shoulder when he opened the door for you.

“Sorry Castle, but since you and Ellison both seem to agree that I can’t do my normal job, I’m being forced to take the ones I’m given, which apparently includes interviewing politicians.”

Frank stared down at you in contempt as he rolled his eyes, motioning for you to go inside.

“Fuckin’ hate politics.”

Giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, you flashed him a grin.

“You and me both. I’ll try to make this as quick as humanly possible.”

As the elevator brought you and Frank up to the fourth floor, you took a moment to gloss over the interview questions Ellison had sent you. It was a last minute favor to him since the journalist originally doing this piece had called out sick, and you hadn’t had a chance to prep like you normally do.

“Who is it?”

“I’m not sure, one of the candidates running for District Attorney. I don’t normally cover this stuff.”

The elevator doors parted with a ding, and Frank followed close behind you as you made your way over towards the receptionist’s desk. There was an older redheaded woman at the desk in the center of the lobby that greeted you with a smile.

“Hi there. How can I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m here for a meeting with a-”

Glancing down at the paper in your hand, your eyes searched for the name of who you were interviewing, when suddenly a familiar voice rang in your ears.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the prettiest girl in all of New York.”

As you turned your head in the direction of the voice, you instantly stilled, and your eyes nearly doubled in size.

“Steven?”

“Hey beautiful.”

“What…what are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“What?”

Flashing you a grin he thought came off as charming, Steven motioned towards the paper in your hand with his finger as he walked over towards you.

“You’re interviewing me.”

Blinking a few times in dumbfoundment, your lips parted in almost shock as you stared down at the paper in your hands.

District Attorney Candidate: Steven Price.

No fucking way. There was no fucking way this was happening right now.

Twisting your face up in confusion, you cocked your head to the side as you stared at him in complete disbelief.

“Wait, you’re running for District Attorney?”

“You sound surprised.”

“Considering you would have a wrap sheet the length of my arm if your father wasn’t who he was, yeah. I am.”

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Steven’s lips parted into a wide grin as he let his eyes shamelessly wander over your body.

“Aww, you remember. That’s cute. C’mon, we can keep reminiscing in my office.”

Steven’s smile fell immediately when his gaze finally landed on Frank, as if he suddenly noticed his presence. How the hell he managed to miss the walking brick wall behind you that was Frank Castle, you weren’t sure, but Steven was nothing if not self-involved.

“You can wait out here.”

“The hell I can.”

Frank’s voice was rougher than usual when it came out, and you didn’t miss the way it made the Adam's apple in Steven’s throat bob. You fought the smirk that threatened to curl at the edge of your mouth as you took a step closer towards Frank and gently rested your hand on his arm.

“This is Frank. He’s with me.”

Steven’s blue eyes darted back and forth between yours and Frank’s, standing up a little straighter as he squared his shoulders in an attempt to make himself look bigger.

“Does he have to be?”

“I go where she goes.”

As he looked at you for confirmation, you lightly shrugged your shoulders in Steven’s direction with a playful smile.

“I wouldn’t bother arguing with him.”

Flashing Frank a look of complete dissatisfaction, Steven quickly tried to recompose himself as he plastered a tight lipped smile on his mouth.

“Alright then. This way.”

Interviewing your ex-boyfriend from college was certainly not on your agenda for today, and you were already rehearsing all of the creative ways you were going to cuss out Ellison when you got back to your office. Frank stood stoically by the door, hand over his wrist, with his intimidating gaze focused solely on Steven.

“So, how you been? You look great by the way. Better than great, actually. Somehow you’ve gotten even prettier.”

Backhanded compliments. Classic Steven Price.

Clearing your throat, you pulled out your notebook and a pen from your bag, keeping your eyes on the interview guide that Ellison had given you. Unlocking your phone, you searched for your voice notes app.

“You mind if I record this?”

“You can do whatever the hell you want with me princess, you know that.”

Glancing up briefly to meet his eyes, you were met with a cocky smirk that you were all too familiar with. You always hated when he called you that, and you were certain you told him that every time he had. Completely ignoring his question, you pressed record and set your phone on his desk.

“Mr. Price-”

“Babe, c’mon. That sounds so formal. You know me. You can call me Steven.”

You wanted to gag at the way he made it sound like a privilege to use his first name.

“Alright, Steven. What made you want to run for District Attorney?”

“Seemed like a great gig.”

“That…that’s it?”

Steven pursed his lips as he gave a light shrug, crossing his fingers together as he laid his hands on his chest and aimlessly swiveled his chair from left to right.

“Um…okay. What do you feel is most important-”

“You been to that place in uptown? New one that just opened?”

“What?”

“It’s a high end sushi place. You know, your favorite. Anyway, I own it-”

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you pursed your lips and gave a light shake of your head.

“That was your favorite, actually.”

A huge grin broke out across Steven’s face as he sank his top teeth into his bottom lip.

“You remember.”

“I was very good at remembering things, Steven. Can we focus?”

“We should go.”

“Go where?”

“To my restaurant.”

“I hate sushi.”

“No you don’t, we used to go all the time.”

“Because you wanted to go all the time. Can we please get back to the interview?”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you willed your eyes to focus on the next question while tucking your hair behind your ears.

“What has been the greatest reward of running your campaign?”

“Getting to see you again.”

Slamming your notebook shut, you pressed the button on your phone to stop recording and stared over at him sharply.

“Are you going to answer any of these questions seriously? This article is about you and you’re giving me nothing to work with.”

Steven rolled his eyes as he sat up straighter, leaning his elbows on his desk as he looked over at you with another ingenuine smirk.

“Why don’t we discuss them over dinner?”

“Why don’t you answer them now so I can do my job? I have a deadline.”

“Tell you what, I’ll have my assistant email those answers over by the end of the day, and I’ll send a car for you Friday. Where do you live now?”

You couldn’t help but gawk at the audacity flowing from his privileged mouth.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Of course not. I’ll come pick you up Friday, alone, and we can catch up.”

Steven glared over in Frank’s direction as he emphasized the word ‘alone’, and before you could respond, Frank’s hardened voice boomed throughout the office.

“Yeah, that ain’t happenin’.”

Frank had been so quiet, you almost forgot that he was there. You were suddenly nervous to turn around and see what his face looked like. Steven glowered over at him, clearly feeling emboldened behind the “safety” of his fancy desk.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t talking to you…John, was it? You know this really isn’t necessary, you being here. I’d actually prefer it if you waited outside.”

“And I’d prefer if you answered her fuckin’ questions so we could be on our way.”

Steven chuckled humorlessly as he ran a hand through his neatly cropped blonde hair, looking over at you while gesturing towards Frank.

“Who is this guy? A little old for an intern, isn’t he?”

“He’s my bodyguard, and his name is Frank.”

Steven stared at you silently for a moment before his eyes trailed over to Frank, the confidence in them dissipating slowly. It seemed like he was really looking at Frank for the first time, like he was finally paying attention to him since the first encounter in the lobby, and you noticed the way he visibly tensed when his eyes wandered over his large form.

“What do you need a bodyguard for?”

“Pissed some people off I shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, well…you were always good at that.”

“The fuck is that s’posed to mean?”

Steven rolled his eyes as an irritated expression took over his features, pointing his finger towards the door.

“Could you just wait outside, man? She’s safe with me, alright.”

“That ain’t for you to decide.”

“Oh? And who needs to sign my permission slip?”

You heard the thunder of Frank’s boots crossing the short distance on the floor, and you instantly reached out to grab onto his wrist once he reached you to halt his angry movements. Steven scrambled all the way back in his chair, pushing away from his desk as he stared up at Frank with wide eyes.

“Frank-”

“Me. And as far as I can tell, your candyass would be fuckin’ worthless if it came down to it. Pretty sure if I came behind that fuckin’ desk right now, the only goddamn thing you would know how to do is call daddy for help, yeah?”

Rising up from your chair, you gripped onto Frank’s wrist a little tighter and moved to stand in front of him to put some distance between him and Steven. You placed your palm flat against his broad chest to capture his attention, momentarily stunned by the anger that was burning in his eyes once they snapped down to you. As your lips parted slightly, you pleaded with your eyes for him to calm down as you whispered quietly.

“Easy, big guy. He’s not worth the trouble. He’s just being a dick, alright?”

Frank clenched his jaw as he looked over your head at Steven, his nostrils flaring slightly as he gave him an unimpressed once over.

“Asshole’s gonna be eatin’ out of a fuckin’ straw the next couple months if he don’t cut the shit.”

Sinking your teeth down into your bottom lip to stifle the giggles that threatened to slip, you gave a slight nod of your head.

“If he acts up again, you have my full permission. But for now, please don’t mangle him. We are in a courthouse.”

Frank glanced down at you, his dark eyes slightly softer as he grunted lowly, giving Steven one more angry glare before he let out a heavy exhale and took four steps back to stand directly behind your chair. It took every ounce of self control not to smirk as you turned around to face Steven, gesturing to him with the paper in your hand containing the interview questions.

“Look, I think we should just call it a day. I’m not even supposed to be writing this article. I’ll tell my boss you couldn’t make it, and the guy that was supposed to be writing this can deal with you.”

Steven suddenly shot up as you reached for your bag and held his hand out.

“Wait, no. Don’t…c’mon, don’t go. I don’t want someone else writing it. I want you to. You actually know me, you can make me look good-”

“That’s not what I’m here to do, Steven. I came here to ask questions and get answers, and write an article based on those answers. How the article reflects you is solely up to you.”

Steven let out a displeased sigh as he settled his hands on his hips, lightly nodding his head in your direction.

“Alright. Alright, no more bullshit.”

Steven refused to look at Frank as he sat back down, his cerulean eyes nervously watching you as he flashed you a timid smile. Letting out a heavy sigh, you slowly sat back down and started recording again, clicking the top of your pen as you looked at him.

“Why do you really want to be District Attorney?”

“It’s the next step in my career.”

“And what makes you think you’ll be good at it?”

“I come from a long line of successful politicians that made it their life’s work to give back to the city and make it a better place.”

“That’s not what I asked. What makes you think you will be good at it?”

“Well clearly you haven’t done your homework, or you’d know I’m a pretty damn good attorney. Never lost a case.”

Steven’s wink simultaneously made you nauseous and also lit a fire within you. Cocking your head to the side lightly, you narrowed your eyes and smacked your lips together.

“I got handed this piece this morning, so no, I didn’t have time to prep. You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Of course you don’t. Okay um…what’s the most important issue to you? What’s the priority for your campaign?”

“Vigilantes.”

Your eyes immediately flew up from the paper at that word, and you found yourself sitting up a little straighter as you stared over at him.

“What about them?”

“Well, they’re a problem. I mean…isn’t that why you need him?”

Steven chuckled lightly as he looked up at Frank, abruptly switching his attention back to you as he clamped his mouth shut.

“No. I need Frank because a bunch of cowards think they’re making a difference by blowing up New York, and I told them how I really felt about them.”

Steven rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, chuckling with a shake of his head.

“That’s because you always have to be difficult. Always have to have the last word. You can’t ever let anything go, Y/N. It’s always a fight with you. You know, people would respect you more and like you more if you weren’t always so combative. You know if you were…softer…not so loud-”

“You keep runnin’ your goddamn mouth like that, I’m really gonna enjoy puttin’ my foot up your ass. Watch how you fuckin’ talk to her.”

Dismissing Frank with a wave of your hand behind you, an incredulous scoff left your mouth as you stared at Steven with narrowed eyes.

“So you think it’s okay for a group of terrorists to threaten me because I hurt their feelings?”

“What? No, of course not. I just…I mean you kinda brought it on yourself. Look, these guys, these…’Defenders of Freedom’, they’re a problem, and one I personally plan to take care of as DA. Especially if you’re involved. But vigilantes are a bigger problem.”

A look of complete incredulity covered your features as you scoffed, digging your nails so hard into your palm, you thought you might bleed.

“How are vigilantes a bigger problem than terrorists-”

“Because they think they’re above the law.”

“And these people don’t? At least vigilantes are actually trying to help people. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen put Wilson Fisk away, and brought down a lot of corrupt cops and politicians, some of which worked for your father, I might add. Jessica Jones brought down not one, but two powered killers. Luke Cage saved Harlem-”

“What about the Punisher?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Frank stiffen, but you were so enraged you couldn’t hardly think straight. You dug further crescent shaped indentations into your palm, sitting up even straighter as you tilted your chin up in a sign of defiance.

“What about him?”

“That psycho killed over 60 people, that we know of. He turned New York into a fucking war zone, Y/N.”

“He wiped out three of the most dangerous gangs in the city. As far as some officers were concerned, he did them a favor.”

“He shot up a hospital-”

“No one got hurt-”

“You aren’t seriously defending that lunatic. A killer is a killer, Y/N. He thought he was doing the city a favor, just like these guys are. Anyone can decide that they’re the good guy that knows what’s best. That’s the problem with vigilantes. There is a reason we have a justice system-”

“You of all people know how easily that justice gets manipulated.”

Steven set his lips in a firm line as he stared at you, eyeing you silently before shaking his head adamantly.

“There is a system, I never said it was perfect, but we have laws in place, and people to uphold them. Daredevil goes around beating the shit out of people and committing felonies every night and calls it justice. Jessica Jones has committed murder more than once, and it was excused as justice. Luke Cage is an ex-convict that notoriously assaults police officers, and calls it justice. You see the pattern here?”

Clenching your fists tightly, you tried to contain how they trembled with rage.

“I think we’re done here. Thank you for your time, Mr. Price.”

Turning off the recording, you vexingly shoved everything into your bag, abruptly standing up to pull it over your shoulder. Steven shot up from his chair to rush over towards you.

“Y/N-”

Frank swiftly placed his body between yours and Steven’s, completely blocking your view of him.

“You take one step closer, I’m gonna make good on my promise.”

An exhausted sigh slipped past your lips as you lightly grasped at the back of Frank’s shirt.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Another sigh fell from your mouth when he didn’t budge, and you tugged at his shirt harder.

“Let’s go, Frank.”

The second the elevator doors shut, Frank turned to face you, arching one of his dark brows in question as he gave you a pointed look. You rolled your eyes and leaned your head against the wall with a quiet groan.

“Don’t start.”

“How the hell do you know that asshole?”

“I said don’t start.”

“That’s too damn bad. I need to know.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my goddamn job, that’s why.”

Rubbing at your temples as you closed your eyes, you practically sprinted out of the elevator once the doors opened.

“Your job is to protect me, Frank. Not to be in my business.”

“Sorry to break it to ya, sweetheart, but your business is my business now. I gotta know who you’re gonna be around so I can-”

“I’m not gonna be around him. I had to interview him to cover someone’s article. That’s it. This is a one time thing-”

“He asked you on a date.”

“So?”

Frank grabbed your wrist to stop you from rushing down the steps, and the force nearly pulled you directly back into his chest. You tilted your head back to look up at him in puzzlement.

“You goin’?”

“What?”

“With him, on a date.”

“Are you seriously asking me that-”

“Yes I’m fuckin’ serious. I gotta know who you’re around. We need to know who to keep tabs on. Anyone could try to-”

“He’s my ex-boyfriend from college, Frank. He’s not a threat. And no, I’m not going on a date with him. Happy?”

Frank’s jaw immediately tensed, and his eyes narrowed as he stared down at you in very clear disappointment. Letting out a dry scoff, he shook his head in disbelief before looking down at you again with an emotion in his eyes that almost looked like disgust.

“The hell did you see in him?”

You had always known that Steven was a shitty boyfriend. That was never something you questioned. But sometimes you forgot just how shitty he was towards you. As you stared up into Frank’s deep brown eyes, Steven’s words echoed around in your head, and it made your heart sink with dejection.

You always have to be difficult.

You brought this on yourself.

People would respect you more if you weren’t always so combative.

People would like you more if you were softer, not so loud.

Steven never supported you. He never took the time to read something you wrote, even when you begged. He spoke over you when you were talking, constantly dismissed your feelings, and made it his personal mission to make you feel small. He never wanted you to shine brighter than him. He never wanted you to disagree with him. He tried to fit you into a locket of his liking and wear you around his neck like a prize. He never loved you. He loved the idea of you he had crafted in his head. And when you shattered that illusion, he despised you and tore you down with his words.

Frank would never treat you that way.

Frank never once made a negative comment about why he ended up being your protection. Hell, even Billy hadn’t. Ellison had encouraged you to write the article. He gave the approval.

Frank read your work. Frank listened to your interview. Frank came to your defense every single time.

He treated you better than anyone ever had. Even when you were in the wrong, and you antagonized him, he was still so gentle with you in his own way. He remembered little things about you. He apologized when he raised his voice or lost his temper. He offered comfort when you needed it. He listened to you.

And now as he stood in front of you, you couldn’t answer him.

“I…I don’t know.”

Frank’s face all of a sudden softened at the somber tone of your voice and the downcast look in your eyes. For a moment, the two of you stood there on the steps, silently staring into each other’s eyes.

Clearing his throat, Frank looked away and nodded with his head in an aimless direction.

“We uh…should get goin’.”

Glancing down at your feet, you closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to compose yourself, giving a slight nod of your head as you turned around to descend the steps.

“Yeah, we should.”

tags: @hopeful-evermore @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @ferns-fics @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @neverlandcity @charmedkim

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

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brbsoulnomming · 7 months

Text

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 23

-----

They're on the front page for about a week.

They run the stories of Hopper and Henry Creel simultaneously - honestly, Eddie kind of thinks the fact that Hopper was presumed dead and is now back makes it easier for people to believe a previously assumed dead guy is the top suspect for the murders.

Eddie gets barely a mention clearing him of all charges. There's a couple of articles about him and Steve fighting off Henry Creel, but the focus is more on Steve than anything else.

Steve bitches about it, about how they did the same thing after Starcourt, but Eddie's kind of glad his name isn't plastered all over the place anymore.

He and Steve are down in the kitchen scrounging up celebratory snacks and beers - Steve has a clean bill of health, and Eddie's stitches are coming out in a few days - when the phone rings.

"Harrington residence, this is Steve speaking," he greets.

Eddie barely has time to decide he's absolutely going to tease him about that later when the response comes - loud enough for him to hear it.

"Steven, my boy!" the voice booms, spirited and affable.

Steve closes his eyes, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Hi, Dad."

"We just heard the news!" Steve's father says. "Why didn't you call to tell us? Did the earthquake damage anything?"

Part of Eddie thinks he should leave. Or at least back away, so he can't hear everything that's being said - but the other part of him thinks that Steve'd push him away if he didn't want him here, and with how tense Steve's gone next to him, Eddie can't bring himself to pull away.

"The house is fine," Steve says. "Loch Nora didn't get hit at all."

"Good, good," Mr. Harrington says. "Your mother hears you and Rachel have been volunteering with the relief efforts?"

Eddie didn't think it was possible, but Steve goes even stiffer.

"Robin," he corrects, his tone smooth and entirely void of inflection. "Yes, we've been coordinating donations."

"That's what I want to hear!" There's a sound like a loud clap. "I'm glad to see you're taking this seriously. You had a lot of ground to make up for, but it seems giving you a dose of reality has paid off. We'll be able to have some real talks about your future soon. What? Oh, your mother wants to talk to you."

There's a shuffling noise, then a quieter and much less friendly voice greets, "Steven."

"Hey Mom," Steve's posture relaxes a little. "I told Dad we made it out okay."

There's some kind of response, but Steve's mom is too quiet for Eddie to make it out.

"No, of course I didn't file charges. I knew you'd want to handle it if anything else happened." A pause. "Yes, that Carver. Mom, it's not - yeah. Yeah, okay. No, it's just him. I think he's just mad that people listened to me and not him. Yeah, I - all right. Bye."

He hangs up the phone, leaning in with one arm braced against the wall, a long line of tension.

"Steve?" Eddie says quietly.

Steve turns to face him, giving a little crooked smile. "You can ask if you want. I don't mind you and Robin knowing. It's… easier sometimes, if she expects it, and it's probably the same with you."

Eddie aches a little. "What was your dad talking about? What ground to make up for?"

Steve makes a face. "I did a lot of damage to the Harrington image the last bit of high school, you know. Stopped caring about my reputation, didn't get accepted into any of the colleges they wanted me to go to, kept getting into fights."

"But that wasn't - did they even ask you what actually happened?" Eddie asks.

"They don't care what actually happened," Steve replies. "Just what it looked like. Like I said, it's all about appearances with them. My dad's the main reason I worked at Scoops instead of being a lifeguard again last summer - he says it's because I needed a real life experience, learn what it means to work at the bottom, but he was just pissy and trying to humiliate me. He talks a big game about working hard, but all he really cares about is how I make them look. Now that I've gotten good press twice, he's happy again."

Eddie's mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. "He didn't even ask if you were okay."

Steve shrugs. "I looked fine in the papers."

Right.

Appearances.

"Will you be mad at me if I punch your dad if I ever see him?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, a surprised little sound like he's startled by it. "No," he says. "But only if I get to punch yours for leaving you."

Oh.

If Eddie was thinking about it, he'd have moved slowly, making sure to telegraph what he was doing so he didn't startle Steve, but he reacts on instinct and pulls Steve into a hug.

Steve doesn't even flinch at the sudden motion. He just melts into it, letting Eddie wrap him up and hold him tightly. His arms come up to cross over Eddie's shoulder blades, the placement automatically mindful of his injuries in the way only someone who's bandaged them multiple times could be.

"Sometimes I wish they just wouldn't call at all," Steve admits, face buried in Eddie's neck. It comes out in a rush, like he hadn't really thought about it before he said it, but he's getting it out anyway. "That they'd just cut me out of their life, instead of stringing me along."

"Fuck them," Eddie says. "I've got you."

He can hear Steve swallow, and Steve hugs him tighter.

They stay like that for a long while, until Eddie finally pulls back.

"Hey," he says softly. "I'll get the food and stuff. Go upstairs and see Robin."

Steve looks uncertain. "You sure?"

Eddie hugs him one more time. "You've got two soulmates," he murmurs. "Let us take care of you a little, okay?"

Steve squeezes him tight, then lets go with a nod before heading upstairs.

Eddie dithers in the kitchen for a bit, taking an extra long time. Whatever his complicated feelings are, it doesn't bother him at all to give Steve and Robin some space like this.

They're talking when he comes back, which isn't a surprise, and he hears his own name as he gets closer to the bedroom. Eddie pauses, even though he shouldn't, listening through the cracked door. He'll feel worse about it later, probably, but right now the masochistic side of him can't resist the urge to know what they're saying about him.

"I want him so much, Robs," he hears Steve saying, low and soft like he's trying to be quiet.

"I know," Robin replies, her tone somehow managing to be both gentle and snarky at the same time. "It's kind of pathetic."

Steve lets out a muffled groan. "Not helping. I don't exactly have the greatest track record at being able to get over people! I thought, with my soulmate-"

He cuts off, and Eddie can't help the bubbling anger that springs up. Steve thought? Has he stopped for one second to think about how Eddie might feel, only ever having a platonic soulmate? Wanting him just as bad and not being able to have him, not being able to have anyone?

"-someone else?" Robin is saying, like she's reading his thoughts, and Eddie has to hold his breath as he makes sure he hadn't accidentally said that outloud.

"I don't want anyone else," Steve says miserably. "Just him. I think - I think it's always going to be him. Fuck, why does this have to be so complicated?"

There's a heavy, thick silence, and Eddie's anger simmers and crackles under his skin, the way it always does when there's a hefty mixing of guilt in it.

"Do you think-" Robin starts, then stops. "Do you wish-" She stops again, voice thick with emotion. "Would it be easier if we-"

"No," Steve says, cutting her off at the same time that Eddie realizes what she's probably trying to bring herself to ask.

There's the muffled sound of shuffling, quiet hitching breaths - probably the motions of Steve trying to reassure one of his soulmates that he wants her, and he imagines him gathering her close, pressing soft kisses anywhere he can reach, cutting off anything she tries to say with a deeper, fiercer kiss.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes copper to keep himself from making some kind of sound to give himself away. He hates that he doesn't know what he's feeling - hates that he thinks he's jealous of Robin just as much as he doesn't feel jealous of her, not really. He's jealous of the images he conjures when he thinks about them together, but he's never actually jealous when he's with them, when he watches them.

That reminder makes him shift, peeking through the cracked door so he can see them. They're sitting facing each other, legs all tangled together. One of Steve's hands is covering Robin's heart, and the other is curled around one of Robin's hands, pinning it to his chest over his own heart, and their foreheads are pressed together.

Something in Eddie settles in a way he can't explain, all thoughts of jealousy gone.

"There's no me without you," Steve is saying. "You're a part of me, Robs, I can't do this without either of you."

She says something too muffled for Eddie to make out.

"I'm happy. I really am, I promise. I love you, I love us, exactly the way we are. And with Eddie-"

Eddie leans forward, too desperate to know what he's going to say to worry about being caught.

"I don't need anything else other than just him. However I can have him. If it's never romantic, if this is us forever - it doesn't matter, not really. I just need you and him, and the kids, and I'm good."

There's silence, the two of them just completely wrapped up in each other, and fuck, Eddie - he thinks you know what, if this is it, if what he has is Steve and Robin and the kids forever, then he's good, too.

"I love you, Robin Buckley," Steve says. "In a way I never realized was possible, until you and that dumb kid showed up in my life and taught me that you don't have to do anything to earn someone's love. That sometimes, it's just unconditional."

Steve was sixteen when he fought his first demogorgon, Eddie remembers that. Which means he couldn't have been any younger than that when he started really spending any time with Dustin or Robin, which means - the same thing that Eddie went through when he first moved in with Uncle Wayne, the thing that was so impossible for him to believe at twelve, Steve wasn't shown until he was probably seventeen.

Fuck, his heart aches.

"Does Henderson know he was your first true love?" Robin asks, her voice a little wet, but obviously trying to make things a little lighter.

Steve laughs, the sound just a bit thick. "No, and he'd be insufferable if I told him."

There's the faint sting of a new lie being written on the back of his calf, and the second he registers it, he hears Robin's startled laughter. Eddie pulls back from the door, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out, trying to get himself back under control.

"Oh my God, Steve, you did tell him! When?"

He can hear Steve sputtering and deflecting, the sound of Robin smacking him and Steve scrambling - probably trying to avoid them - and if there was ever going to be a good time to announce his return after shamelessly listening in for too long, now is probably it.

Eddie pushes open the door, six pack under one arm and bags of popcorn and chips under the other as he shoots a hopefully only slightly manic grin at them. "What's Steve lying about now?"

"Nothing!" Steve says too quickly.

Sloppy, for him, considering Eddie knows how good Steve usually is at using sarcasm or half truths to avoid telling lies, so Eddie tosses the bag of popcorn at him.

He catches it easily, of course, but it means he's now vulnerable to Robin's attacks, and he has to swerve to avoid another slap to his shoulder.

"Steve's trying to pretend like we both didn't get that lie, too," Robin says.

Steve groans. "Fine, Jesus. It was back when we were waiting at the camper, and Dustin was upset. I told him that he was the first person who was ever just - there, in my life because he wanted to be, even after he didn't need me to fight demodogs. No one could ever replace him."

"You're such a sap, Steve," Eddie teases him as he comes to sit next to him and Robin.

"Shut up," Steve grumbles. "That's it, I'm picking the movie."

—

The next day, Lucas and Max swing by. Steve hauls a basketball stand out of the garage and sets it up in the driveway, and Eddie sits at the kitchen table, eating a bologna sandwich while he watches them play.

It's safer inside, where there's no one to see if he gets affected by Steve's tank top and shorts.

Or at least, he thought it was safer inside.

"Do you love Steve?" Max asks, plopping down beside him.

Eddie chokes on his Coke, and she stares at him unsympathetically until he manages to breathe again.

"He's my soulmate, so." Eddie shrugs.

Max gives him an unimpressed look, and yeah, okay, he figures they both know soulmates aren't a guarantee of anything. Eddie's parents were soulmates, after all, loved each other more than anything else in this world, and that still hadn't been enough.

"I wanted him to be my soulmate before I knew it was him," he admits, because that's a more true answer without actually having to say yes or no. "Nothing's happened since to change that."

She gets this look on her face like she's trying to decide if that's an acceptable response. After a moment, she rests her chin on her knees, staring out the window, and Eddie figures he's in the clear.

"Steve has two soulmates," she says after a while. "You don't. Doesn't that make you feel - I don't know, like you aren't enough?"

"Jesus Christ, Red, you're not pulling any punches today, are you?" Eddie swears.

He doesn't actually want to have this conversation. It's not something he's completely sorted out on his own, yet, even though he's done a lot of thinking on it, and he's tempted to tell her to mind her own business.

But she won't look at him, and he knows why she's asking. She's not talking about him and Steve and Robin, not really.

He thinks about telling her something standard about soulmates, or maybe even the advice that his uncle gave him, but it doesn't feel right.

"It's not what I always imagined," Eddie admits slowly.

Max doesn't say anything, but he watches the way she starts to unwind a little, how she doesn't hold herself so stiff, tilts a little to actually listen to what he's saying.

"You know Steve and I talked to each other when we were younger. We thought the same way about a lot of stuff, and I had this idea in my head that he was some little outcast like me, in another small town somewhere out there, that we'd move to a big city and find each other. But then we stopped talking."

"How come?" Max asks, looking caught up despite herself.

Eddie grins at her, wide and self depreciating. "I found out he was probably some rich, popular jerk, and decided I hated him."

And there's that unimpressed look again.

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie grumbles. "Let's just say there might be some truth to not talking with your soulmate before you actually meet them. Point is, for almost five years, I hated my soulmate. Thought the best I could hope for was that we'd meet when we were thirty and ancient, and maybe then he would have changed. Then a little while ago, I met Steve."

Max's brows furrow. "You met Steve way before that."

"Nah," he says. "I knew of Steve. I had a lot of assumptions about him, knew what I thought he was, but I didn't know the real Steve. That Steve I met when he helped explain all of this to me and didn't make me feel stupid for not picking up some of it right away, even after I held a broken bottle to his throat."

She snorts, but looks like she's considering that. "I met him when he was putting himself between me, Lucas, and Dustin and a hoard of demodogs, a couple of hours after calling them dickheads and me some random girl."

Eddie salutes her with his can of Coke, half in understanding and half to cover the way his heart wants to melt again. "That Steve was nothing like I imagined my soulmate to be, when I was daydreaming about him or hating him. But I knew I didn't want anyone else, and Steve having another soulmate doesn't change that. I don't think it makes what he feels for me any less than what I feel for him, and I don't think it means I'm less important to him than he is to me."

Max frowns. "Really, or are you just saying that?"

"Really," Eddie says, though he hadn't actually been sure it was true until he heard himself say it. "I'm not saying it's not hard sometimes. And sometimes I get in my head about it. But I wouldn't change it. Steve wouldn't be the same without Robin, you know? He wouldn't be the Steve that made me want him to be my soulmate so bad."

There's a long moment of silence. Then, "Would you be saying that if both of his soulmates were romantic?"

Eddie's glad he stopped drinking, because he knows he would have choked again. For a split second, she wonders if she's picked up on - but no, that still isn't what this about. "Are both of yours romantic?"

Her jaw juts forward, arms hugging tighter around her knees. "What if they were?"

Fuck, he doesn't know what to say to that. "It's okay to like both guys and girls," he says, because he feels like that's the most important bit. "I do. I mean, mostly guys, but sometimes girls."

Her grip loosens a little, but she still doesn't say anything.

"It sounds like maybe I'm not the one you should be talking to about that," he says carefully.

She scowls. "I talked to Steve already."

Right, of course she did.

"What did Steve say?"

"Steve said he thinks the line between platonic and romantic soulmates isn't as straightforward as people like to pretend it is. That sometimes what you might think should be romantic is actually platonic, and sometimes what you think should be platonic is romantic, and sometimes there's going to be things that blur the lines and you don't really know which one it is. He said it was okay to have two platonic or two romantic or one of each or, like, any combination." She makes a face here, like she's not entirely sure what he meant by any combination - or like she was sure, and didn't need that much detail. "That as long as everyone was communicating, it was okay to do whatever worked for us."

Eddie swallows. "Steve sounds pretty smart."

Max rolls her eyes. "He has his moments."

"So… are you communicating with Lucas and El?" he asks.

She picks at a rip in her jeans. "I talked to Lucas."

He waits, but it seems like that's all he's going to get. He starts to ask what Lucas said, but… he gets the feeling that it's not necessarily about what he said or not.

"But it's Lucas," Eddie says. "And you wanted to hear how someone else in a familiar situation felt."

Eddie gets that familiar, itchy feeling that he does when he wants to run, and he only barely resists the urge to bounce his leg up and down. It's not that he wants to run from Max, or even from this conversation, it's just - it's starting to make him think about things, and he really, really doesn't want an audience for this. He wants to lock himself in a room and pace, listen to some music, maybe scribble out his thoughts, something to get his hands moving and his brain in some kind of order -

"Even if Steve wanted both of us romantically," he says, knowing it's close enough that it's not a lie. "I would still rather be his soulmate than anyone else."

Max looks at him with narrowed eyes for a long moment. "I'm gonna ask Steve if you lied about that."

Eddie fixes her with an unimpressed look right back. "You think I'd do that to him?"

"You better not." There's an edge of menace in her tone, but she lets it go, so Eddie figures she doesn't really think he'd lie about something like that knowing it would be etched on Steve's skin forever.

Silence stretches between them, and Eddie follows her gaze out the window, watching Steve and Lucas playing basketball.

"I've put him through so much already," Max says, so quietly that he can barely hear it.

Fuck, Eddie is so fucking soft for these kids.

"You have not," Eddie says immediately. "You haven't done a goddamn thing, Red. Both of you have already been through so much, and it's not because of something either of you did. It's fucking Hawkins."

She doesn't look convinced, so Eddie pushes his shoulder against hers.

"Lucas is smart. He's more emotionally intelligent than I am-" Max snorts at him, and he's reasonably sure he hears her mutter something along the lines of like that's hard, but he ignores her. "He knows what he can take and what he can't. All you have to do is believe him when he tells you it."

She's quiet for a moment, looking contemplative. Then she asks, "Does that work for you?"

Right, yeah, okay, he deserved that one. He thinks about deflecting, but -

"I'm trying," he admits quietly. "What do you think, huh, you gonna let me beat you there or are we gonna do this together?"

Max glances out the window again, then turns to look back at him, her chin jutting out. "Steve loves too much, and he gets it thrown back at him too often. I don't think he really believes that we love him as much as he loves us, even though we do."

She says it like a threat, like she's saying if you tell him I said that I will kill you or maybe if you hurt him I will kill you. Either way, he'd be dead.

"I'll talk to Lucas and El, and you make sure you don't disappoint him."

Goddamn if that doesn't stab right to the heart of him, lodging itself beneath his ribcage and sticking right into the parts that'd already made him want to run from this conversation.

"Okay," he manages to get out, because he's not sure he'll survive any other answer.

Max nods. "Good talk," she tells him, and then she pushes herself up and she's gone.

Eddie stays there, mulling all of that over. He doesn't think she'd actually tell Steve anything they just talked about, nor does he think she really has any idea that Steve had asked him to make their bond romantic and he'd turned him down. Honestly, Eddie could probably get away with patting himself on the back for actually managing to give some decent advice and be the person she'd needed him to be for just a little while, then go on being a very devoted platonic soulmate for Steve.

Except even if Max doesn't really know, Eddie does. And now Eddie's thinking about things he doesn't want to, and wondering how much of a hypocrite some of the advice that he gave her makes him, and -

"Hey," Lucas says, and Eddie yelps.

Lucas raises his eyebrows at him.

"Jesus Christ, don't do that," Eddie bitches.

There's a little smirk, but fortunately, Lucas doesn't actually comment on it. "You talk to Max?" he asks instead.

"Yeah," Eddie replies, narrowing his eyes at him.

Lucas lights up, though, his whole face practically beaming with his smile. "Good. I figured it'd help her to hear that your soulmate cares about you no matter what from someone who wasn't me."

Eddie raises one eyebrow. "How do you know that's what I said?"

Lucas rolls his eyes. "Because you're Steve's soulmate. If that wasn't the way you felt, Robin would know, and she'd have already murdered you."

Eddie considers that. "Okay, fair."

Lucas makes his way over to the fridge, yanking it open and standing in front of it as he peers in. "So what did you tell her?"

Eddie sits back, waiting until Lucas turns to look back at him so he can shoot him a wide, smug grin. "If she wants you to know, she'll tell you."

He gets a glare in return, but Lucas doesn't protest that, just leans back in to grab a pair of Gatorades from the fridge. He twists the top off of one, taking a long swallow before he shuts the door and starts back out of the kitchen, giving him a little nod as he passes.

"Hey, Lucas?" Eddie calls before he can leave.

Lucas pauses, looking quizzically at him.

"I'm guessing you talk to Steve like Max does, about all this." Eddie makes an exaggerated gesture between them and out the kitchen window, meant to loop all of them in together. "But, uh. You know. If you ever want a different perspective, from someone in kind of your position."

He motions to himself, then splays his hands out all ta-da.

Lucas hesitates, lingering in the middle of the kitchen before he seems to make a decision.

"I was kind of upset about it when I first found out Max's other soulmate was El," he admits. "It was right after Billy died, and their soulmate bond was new, and Max kept letting El in while she was shutting me out. And I was angry, and jealous, and then when El had to leave and Max kept pushing me away, I just kept thinking that if El was here Max wouldn't be by herself so much, that the wrong soulmate got to stay in Hawkins."

Lucas pauses, twisting the Gatorades in his hand, but Eddie gets the feeling it's a gathering his thoughts pause more than a waiting for Eddie to say something pause.

"Eventually I realized that El could help Max in a way that I couldn't, and that maybe that was the point. I started calling El a little, too, when the phone wasn't busy, and just - El was grieving, too. I didn't want to feel jealous over something that helped them both anymore. It's been good with El back, really good. I don't know if I like El like that, but if Max does-" he shrugs. "I guess I kind of already got over the jealousy bit. It doesn't really matter to me if they kiss while they're having sleepovers or not, as long as they don't exclude me."

Now it seems like a waiting for Eddie to say something pause, so he gives a soft little hum. "What do you do if you end up feeling excluded?"

Lucas blinks, like he wasn't expecting that question. "Uh. Well, before, I talked to my parents and sometimes to Steve or Robin or Dustin. It's hard talking to Mike or Will about it because they're not all that objective about El stuff. I don't… really know if I want to tell my parents about Max and El like that yet, so I guess… talk to Steve or Robin or Dustin." He pauses, then, more tentatively, "Or you?"

Fuck, these kids keep getting to him. "Or me," he agrees easily. "But you should probably also add talk to Max and El to that list."

Lucas makes a face, but doesn't disagree. "I don't think a lot of the others know about Max," he says instead. "Just me and Steve and Robin, and now you."

There's an edge to his voice, like he's pretty sure Eddie must be safe if Max told him, but he's ready to fight him about it anyway.

"Max knows about me, now, so we're even," Eddie replies, pleased that the effort he puts into making sure his voice sounds steady pays off.

"Yeah?" Lucas asks. "Who else knows?"

"Steve and Robin. And now Max and you," Eddie replies.

Lucas lights up a little. "Cool."

"Cool," Eddie echoes, even though he feels a little shaky from the fact that he's now said it twice today, which is double the amount of times he's ever said it before at all.

There's a comfortable silence for a moment.

"It's complicated, being in our position," Eddie says after a bit. "I think it's always going to be complicated. But if we let it - I think it could be really great, too. Most people only end up in pairs, but us? We get a whole damn party of interconnected soulmates."

"A party of soulmates," Lucas says thoughtfully, then grins. "Yeah, I like that."

"You're a good kid, Lucas," Eddie tells him, not sure if he really needs to hear it, but he still remembers the way it made him feel when Uncle Wayne said it.

Lucas ducks his head, looking a little pleased, even though he follows it up with a sidelong look. "Even though I'm kind of a jock?"

Eddie shrugs. "My soulmate is a whole jock. I guess that means I've got a little jock in me, too."

Lucas's expression shifts, turning mischievous, and suddenly he looks like the fifteen year old boy he is, and not a world-weary adult. It's nice, it's wonderful, Eddie loves to see it, except it makes him realize what he just said far, far too late to do anything about it.

In his defense, they were having a serious discussion, and -

Yeah, he's got nothing.

Maybe it'll be fine? Lucas is probably the most mature out of all of the boys, maybe -

"I don't know, man," Lucas says, slowly, like he's actually considering that. "We've all heard the rumors about Steve. I don't think it's something little you're gonna be dealing with."

Eddie gapes at him.

"I said you were mature," he bemoans, flinging his upper body over the top of the kitchen table just to make Lucas laugh harder. "I told Max you were emotionally intelligent! Begone from my sight!"

Lucas takes his Gatorades and leaves, still laughing at him.

—

"Max cornered me in the kitchen to threaten me today," Eddie says.

Steve snorts. "Of course she did. What about?"

Eddie shrugs, waiting for Steve to look at him so he can waggle his eyebrows at him. "She also threatened to kill me if I told you."

Steve shoves him, and Eddie falls back dramatically, sprawling out on the couch. He props himself up on his elbows to look at Steve, but he doesn't seem inclined to actually push him to reveal what he and Max talked about. Instead, Steve goes about shutting down for the night, checking to make sure all the windows and the sliding glass door are locked.

"Soulmate stuff," Eddie says. Or more like blurts out, before he can change his mind, to force himself to have to keep going. "She told me what you said about the line between platonic and romantic soulmates. Made me think about some things."

"Yeah?" Steve asks, stopping by the couch to look at him.

"Do you still want me, Steve?" Eddie asks, his heart in his throat.

He isn't prepared for Steve to shut down, for the way his face goes cold and hard and blank.

"Not cool, Eddie," Steve says, turning away and going back to the windows in the living room.

Eddie pushes himself up off the couch, then immediately doubts himself and sits back down. "Steve, what?"

Steve won't look at him, and he can hear the window locks rattling with the force that Steve's using to check them. "You're being a dick, man, come on. You can't ask me stuff like that."

"I-" he starts, then stops, his mind scrambling a little. Is he too late? Did Steve move on already, even though he told Robin that he wasn't going to? Is Eddie so easy to get over that even his fucking soulmate couldn't keep him? "What happened to it's always going to be him, huh?"

"Jesus Christ," Steve says, incredulous, and Eddie kind of wants to cry a little because he knows that Steve has started saying that more because of all the time they've spent together. "You were listening to me and Robin? What the fuck, man, you still think it's fair to throw that at me?"

"Fuck you, Steve, I know it wasn't a lie when you said that. Am I so fucking easy to just stop wanting, or are you that fucking fickle?"

"Eddie, goddamn, is this - were you testing me? Is this you lashing out at me again? Because I can't, okay, not about this, I can't-" he cuts off, one hand scrubbing over his face. "I told you, I can't."

Oh.

Oh fuck.

"Steve, no, I wasn't teasing, I - it was a real question."

Steve stills, pausing right by a window. The light of the moon catches on him, highlighting parts of him in pale silver while the rest of him is warmed from the soft yellow of the living room lamp. "Seriously?"

"Come on, Steve. I just picked a fight with you instead of asking what you meant, and you're surprised I'm not sure you still want me anymore?"

Eddie can hear Steve breathing out, then in, then back out again, watches as he lets some of the tension bleed out of his body. "I think I picked some of that fight right back. I'm sorry, I just - all right, let's go back, and I'll listen without making assumptions, okay?"

Yeah, okay, Eddie can do that.

"Max told me what you said," Eddie starts again. "And it made me think about how smart you are." He wishes Steve were closer, so he could see his face better, at the same time as he wishes he couldn't see it at all. "How brave you are. How when you know what you want, you go for it, how you fight to keep it, how you own up when you make a mistake, how you work so hard to make all this work."

This is Eddie trying to be brave, he thinks. Trying to go for what he wants, to accept that they're going to have to work at this, that he's probably going to get hurt, that he has to trust that Steve will be willing to work past whatever it is that springs up.

It takes him a little too long, though, because after a few moments, Steve gently prompts, "Eddie?"

"Do you still want me?" he asks again. He didn't mean to, but it comes out anyway, all small and tentative.

"Eds," Steve breathes out. "I'm always going to want you."

He loves too much, and he gets it thrown back at him too often, Max had said, and Eddie swallows down the urge to ask him if he means it, if he'll still mean it the next time Eddie picks a fight, or every time he's an ass.

"I'm always going to want you, too," Eddie says.

Steve's hands twitch, and he looks like he's waiting for something - for a lie to show up on his skin, Eddie realizes, and Eddie knows he's going to have to do better than that.

"I want you," he says again. "Steve, I want you. I'll take you any way I can get you, but I just - this is stupid, I'm stupid. I'm making us both miserable because I was scared."

He's not surprised that's what gets Steve moving, and he comes over to sit by him on the couch.

"You're not stupid," Steve replies. "Not for being scared."

Eddie shakes his head. "No, but I am for giving into it. So I might get hurt, so what? I'm already hurting, wanting you so bad and not getting to have you, knowing you'd probably let me kiss you and not letting myself go for it."

Steve's looking at him, eyes all sharp and intense, like he's really listening to Eddie's every word, and hell if it doesn't make him feel just a little bit drunk on it.

"Talking with Max made me realize that I trust you. I trust you, with my life, with - fucking everything. I trust you to work through this with me, to figure out what works for us."

Steve runs a hand over his jaw, going up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Yeah?" he asks after a moment. "You really - you want to do this?"

"So fucking much," Eddie says.

Steve's whole face lights up in a smile, and he leans in, one hand resting on Eddie's knee. "That mean I can kiss you now?"

Eddie barely manages to get out a please before Steve's other hand is sliding over his jaw, slipping back to push his fingers into his hair and cup the side of his face. Steve holds him there as he kisses him, and it's-

It's not Eddie's first kiss. But it's his first kiss that's ever really meant anything, and the soft brush of Steve's lips against his makes his heart stutter in his chest.

Steve gives a little hum, low in his throat, and then he's tilting his head to get a better angle, and holy shit.

Eddie pushes forward eagerly, deepening the kiss until they're both panting for breath, and even then they don't pull away. Their foreheads press together, lips parted and just barely touching as they share the same air. His eyes have closed at some point, but now he opens them to find Steve looking back at him, and Eddie smiles.

"How long do you think until Robin notices we haven't come up?" he asks.

"I'm okay with figuring that out," Steve replies, closing the tiny bit of distance between them to kiss him again.

I've got a pretty good handle on the outline for the rest of this now, so I'd say we've got about four more parts left!

-----

Part 24

Tag list (always happy to add more): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #robin buckley #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #background lumax #hints of elmax and elumax #platonic soulmates stobin #steddie soulmate au

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emepe · 17 days

Text

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: The killer has the police fooled. Meanwhile, you and Eren enjoy more of each other’s company.

— Content warnings: slightly nsfw, dry humping, make out, mention of stalking, murder, mention of torture, mention of rape.

— Notes: Welcome to chapter 7 <3 If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, lmk. Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

lost signs

“Detective.”

A meek voice pulls Levi's attention from the paperwork scattered across his desk, as a fresh manila folder is promptly set down before him.

“The notes on the autopsy.”

Every other task is instantly abandoned as the raven-haired man grabs the folder and goes through the pages of the autopsy report, along with the notes provided by his subordinate.

Less than an hour later, Levi's knocking on the door of his captain's office, staying true to his habit of walking in before being invited.

“What do you have there?”

Erwin Smith barely spares a proper look at Levi as he continues scrolling through a file on his computer.

“Carly Stratmann's autopsy notes.”

Erwin simply nods, not showing much interest in the topic but not yet doing anything to shoo the stoic detective from his office.

“You're the lead detective on this case. Don't tell me you need me to hold your hand for this.”

Levi clicks his tongue at the remark, but straightens his posture to keep up his stern appearance.

“I think we need to raise a few alarms.”

Erwin shoots a menacing look in his direction, but purses his lips before he can spout another sharp remark.

Levi Ackerman hasn't been working the homicide department for long — just barely a couple of years after transferring from property crime, and just as many major cases under his belt.

His sudden need to raise alarms doesn't come as a surprise to Erwin. The man's got good instincts, albeit he's a bit too quick to act on them for Erwin's liking at times. And that's when he intervenes to rein him in.

On a day when he's so burnt out from work, the task is even more annoying to take on than usual.

“Is it the same M.O. as the Langnar case?”

“Not exactly, but—”

“I'll stop you right there, then,” Erwin firmly says, holding a hand up to make his point, hoping he can cut today's coolly disguised frenzy short.

Though calm and collected — practically icy — on the outside, detective Ackerman has been letting his personal convictions sway his thinking since the Langnar murder.

Erwin doesn't care to know much about his subordinates — it's just a job — but he knows Ackerman has a beloved niece of similar age to the recent murder victims living in the city, and it doesn't take much to deduce that's where his hidden worries stem from.

“There aren't many coincidences, it's true,” Levi states, resisting the urge to harshly spit the words at his superior. After all, a man who wants to be heard, has no need to raise his voice. “But even if these are isolated cases, it wouldn't hurt to… I don't know, set up a curfew… send out more units to patrol at night. Erwin, two women were murdered without a trace of DNA from the culprit.”

He sighs, then mutters the next few words under his breath.

“That's not a fucking coincidence.”

Erwin leans forward into his desk.

“Alright, Ackerman, I'll humor you for a minute.”

His hands clasp together, his chin resting on top as he formulates a question.

“Aside from the lack of DNA and the fact that they're women, is there anything in the autopsy reports that's enough to suspect we've got a serial killer in our hands?”

Levi tenses his jaw, tongue rolling against his cheek before sourly replying.

“No.”

Erwin's eyebrows rise as a sign of finality. But Levi stands his ground, taking his gesture as defiance.

“I get your point. Stratmann could have nothing to do with Langnar. Maybe it was someone they knew or maybe it's not. If that's the case, are two criminals better than one? Is that what we're hoping for?”

Erwin's stern gaze falters for a split second, but he recovers just as quickly.

“How do we discard a serial killer in the making? What if this person hasn't fixed themselves on their M.O.? We can get them early in their career if we make a move right n–”

“We can't make moves based on gut feelings.”

Erwin's statement makes Levi shrink back for the first time since walking into the office.

“Langnar was tortured. Her injuries were consistent with weeks of trauma. Choked, handcuffed, cut, beaten, sliced at the mouth post-mortem, and dismembered. A very tedious and meticulous process, wouldn't you say? She had to have spent weeks in captivity and that points to either a person who was close enough to lure her into their trap or a stalker who observed her before kidnapping her.” He gestures for Levi to hand him the file in his hands, snatching the folder and ripping it open once he's close enough. “Stratmann was sliced at the neck, choked beforehand, raped post-mortem. It's sloppy and clear to have been done on a whim.”

“She was left in a dumpster, too,” Levi reminds him. “Just like Langnar.”

Erwin presses his lips into a thin line, his thick eyebrows weighed down with severity.

“That's not enough to go off of. We can't cry ‘serial killer’ over one measly coincidence.”

Levi can feel himself wavering at Erwin's arguments.

“Can we at least impose a curfew?” he asks.

Erwin heavily sighs, enough for the movement to be caught on his now slumping shoulders.

“As I said, bring me solid proof of a connection and we'll talk.”

“Okay. Spill,” Mikasa orders as soon as she scurries out of the bathroom and plops down criss-crossed on the sofa.

It's Saturday night and you and Sasha are staying over at Mikasa's place for a girl's night.

The living room floor is littered with blankets, cushions and pillows, and the television is playing a random horror movie that has gone ignored since Sasha wondered out loud how Eren was doing a few minutes ago. She seemingly asked nobody in particular, but it was clear you were meant to respond with both girl's eyes set on you the moment the green-eyed man's name came up.

You figured the sleepover was a cover for an ambush. The girls formed a separate group chat for just the three of you, coincidentally the day after your first date with Eren and have been asking to get together for the past week.

You tug nervously at the sleeve of your pajama top, shying away from the expectant gaze that seeps through Mikasa's face mask.

You shrug.

“What do you wanna know?”

“Who made the first move?” Sasha asks, scooting closer to you as if that means she'll get more details.

You ponder for a moment. It's hard to tell. Eren was first to ask you out two months ago, but you were the first to kiss him last Saturday. In a way, you both had a chance to steer the wheel.

When you explain this to the girls, they swoon, falling into a fit of excited giggles.

“I never pegged you for the bold type,” Mikasa grins, lightly smacking your shoulder. “I bet Eren loved that.”

Sasha nods in agreement, giddy.

“I can't believe you didn't tell us right away,” Mikasa pouts.

“I don't think you would've remembered, Mika,” you say. “You had three Long Islands that night.”

“Still, it would've been nice to know,” she sighs dramatically.

“Okay, so you got together the night of the Halloween party,” Sasha reviews. “But what about the day we went to Sunrise? I totally thought you guys had a thing going on back then. I mean, Eren never left your side, even before you got hurt.”

The apple-picking trip seems like so long ago, but the memory remains fresh in your mind. You smile at the mental image of Eren's serious expression as he claimed to never have been so curious to know anyone before you.

“Oh my gosh,” Mikasa squeals, aggressively smacking Sasha’s back as she's reminded of something. “She was feeding him peanuts on the way there. They were so shy, it was adorable.”

Instinctively, your hands come up to cover your face in embarrassment. It didn't even register until now that the people in the backseat witnessed the awkward exchange.

Now that you've tasted the lips that brushed against your fingertips that day, the reminder seems even more embarrassing.

You smack your cheeks lightly in an attempt to ground yourself. The girls watch you amusedly, exchanging knowing glances in between.

“Have you guys… you know.” Mikasa raises her eyebrows suggestively.

Warmth floods your cheeks again.

“Not yet,” you murmur. “We're taking things slow.”

She looks surprised, but nods in support.

“Of course,” she says. “Slow is good.”

“Says the girl who pounced on Jean after one of his gigs because she was jealous.”

“Hey!” Mikasa whines, growing shy at the accusation. “I had to get a message across. He was being petty.”

Sasha throws her head back in laughter.

“No, he was just stupid. He had no idea you liked him back until that night.”

Your gaze flickers between the two girls as you piece their conversation together.

A blushing Mikasa picks up a cushion and chucks it at Sasha’s face who easily avoids the blow and laughs at the raven-haired girl's pout.

“Whatever,” Mikasa groans. She turns to look at you, features instantly shifting into a more cheerful expression.

“So how do you feel?”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“About Eren.”

“It's only been a week,” you explain.

“So?” she shrugs. “You guys have been spending a lot of time together, haven't you? Armin told me Eren's been driving you to work everyday. That means you've had a lot of one-on-one time.”

Shyly, you lower your head, focusing your gaze on the black and white pattern of the comforter laid beneath you. Your fingers mindlessly trace over the texture of the fabric.

“I guess so.”

Both girls smile.

“So what's the verdict?” Sasha asks.

“I… I really like him,” you sigh, lips tugged into a smile. “Like… really really like him.”

Another round of excited squeals and giggles echoes through the room.

Their thrill only encourages you further, pushing you into a tangent of how thoughtful Eren is and how he always manages to hold you with so much care, bringing you peace each time he's close.

“He makes me feel safe. Is that weird to say?”

Mikasa shakes her head as she peels off the mask from her face, wrinkling the sheet into a ball and chucking it across the room to the trash can in one corner. She misses by an inch.

“Not at all. I don't mean to sound old-fashioned but you have to be with someone who makes you feel cared for.”

Sasha hums in agreement as she shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth. She holds a finger up, asking you to wait for her to gulp down the snack.

“And someone who makes you laugh, also very important.”

You nod along with Mikasa.

“Oh, and… well, when you get to it… someone you're sexually compatible with,” she adds. “People like to pretend it's not a big deal but it really is. Sex is okay but great sex with someone who knows how to touch you is where you find out if you're in sync. There needs to be communication and understanding and care. It's so fucking important.”

Mikasa looks down at her friend as she pats her head affectionately.

“You're so wise for someone who doesn't have a boyfriend.”

Sasha quirks an eyebrow.

“Hey, just because I'm not blurting it out to everybody doesn't mean I don't have anything going on.”

Mikasa hums contemplatively.

“Do tell.”

The conversation takes a turn to Sasha’s latest sexcapades, and you take turns with Mikasa to look surprised at the stories she shares.

By the end of the night, when you're all teetering the edge of sleep with a third movie serving as background noise, your mind drifts back to the emerald-eyed boy who makes you laugh so easily, draws every emotion from you, and cares for you like it's what he was put on this earth for.

Water pools at your feet out of thin air. You’re stuck in a dark void with no end, yet the water your eyes frantically search the source of keeps rising at a startling speed, soaking little by little into your clothes until it weighs you down.

Running seems futile. The void has no end and the water keeps steadily climbing up your body, so who knows how long you’ll have until you’re fully submerged — with no exit in view. Even if you could run, the weight of your drenched clothes would only pull you back. But you can’t even move anyway, you realize. You’re stuck in place, feet unable — or unwilling — to even take a couple of waddling steps.

The water is up to your hips now. With trembling hands, you reach down and scoop at the liquid. It’s thick and with a smell so rancid it stretches through the infinite length of the emptiness you stand in. The water’s filthy.

Your hands drop at your sides in an unsettling daze. The next second, your breath grows shallow and you start pulling at your feet as the water reaches your neck. Tears prick at your eyes as you cry at your feet, begging for them to move, to lift from the ground so you could at least make some weak attempt at reaching the surface for air.

Suddenly, a light. Pure white shines brightly from far ahead, where a golden silhouette stands at the threshold between darkness and light — the void’s borders. The other person bangs their fists at the invisible wall keeping you apart, yelling something you can’t make out. Are they yelling at you? No, they don’t even seem to notice your presence. So who are they yelling at? Up at the sky… They’re yelling something up at the sky. But what are they saying? Who does the golden silhouette even belong to?

Your left foot unsticks from the ground unprompted. A sharp breath is all you take before you make your first step toward the light, hand midair to call for the figure’s attention. Just then, an unknown body pulls you into them from behind, crashing your body down into the murky water, where your lungs fill with filth and your eyes flutter shut.

You wake with a small gasp coming through your lips. Still stiffened by the strange dream, your eyes are all that wander the unfamiliar room. The television is set to a screensaver, likely triggered by an extended lack of attention to whatever on-demand production was playing before you fell asleep. There’s a clutter of takeout containers on the coffee table and used glasses with remnants of soda that can safely be assumed to be flat by now.

Slowly, you stir on the velvet green sofa you’re lying on, when you take note of the firm hold around your waist, followed by the soft exhales released onto the crown of your head. You look down at the familiar watch wrapped around the wrist of the hand that holds you in place.

Oh, you think. That’s right. I’m at Eren’s place.

He’s been having trouble catching up on work, meaning he’s had to stay up late for the past couple of nights. He’s a stickler about getting a good night’s rest, so the temporary change in work shifts has thrown him off quite a bit. You told him to stay home and rest — that you could go to the movies another time; next Sunday was fine with you — but he insisted on seeing you, even if it meant a more casual hangout in his living room with Chinese food and a comedy-drama film from the 2000s playing on the TV.

At some point in the evening, the late hours caught up to him all at once and he even managed to get you to stay with him, wrapped in his arms as his sleepiness found its way to your body as well.

Craning your neck, you peer at Eren’s sleepy face from the corner of your eye. You smile. He’s got an innocent look about him even in his sleep. His lips are parted just enough to take and release soft breaths. You sink back into the couch, wiggling around to find the comfortable position you were previously in.

Eren feels you moving and his arm instantly pulls you closer to his body. His warmth transfers through every layer of clothing, enveloping you in a warm embrace. In his sleep, he mumbles a string of words you can’t quite comprehend under his breath, but the vibrations against your back coax you back into a peaceful slumber.

The next time you wake up, it's already getting dark out. The coffee table has been cleared of its mess, and the body lying behind you is no more. Forced by the absence of his arms around you, you trudge out of the living room to look for him as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

He's in the kitchen, back to you, filling a glass with cold water from the fridge.

Leaning against the threshold, you watch him adoringly, marveling at his toned figure from behind. He chugs his first glass of water down, refilling it as soon as he finishes. As he brings the glass to his lips once more, he turns around, eyebrows rising slightly when he takes in your presence.

“Boo,” you smile, standing straight and making your way over to him.

He abandons the glass of water as soon as you meet him, opting to use his hands to push you closer to him by the small of your back as yours rest on his shoulders.

“Did I wake you?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“Just felt lonely, all of a sudden.”

An amused air blows through his nose.

Your hands find a way to his hair, fingers carding through the strands as he keeps his gaze fixed on your face.

His hair has gotten longer, and the strands around his face now cover his forehead, tickling the skin. It’s not messy, by any means, but it gives him an edgier look. The duality of Eren Jaeger’s appearance is a wonder to you. He’s got a way of tipping the scales between cute and sexy with every little thing he does.

You smile at the few rebellious locks that poke out, still fixed in the angle provided by his nap.

“What?” he asks, mirroring your smile.

“Your hair’s getting long,” you murmur.

“I’ll get a haircut soon, don’t worry,” he replies, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, amused by the way you follow after him once he starts retreating from the contact. He kisses you once more to keep you from pouting.

“I didn’t say anything,” you chuckle. “If you want to grow out your hair, that’s fine. You don’t have to keep it short. I was just pointing it out.”

He shakes his head, humming in denial.

“Nah. This part’s starting to bug me. I just haven’t had time to get it cut,” he explains, brushing back the hair covering his forehead. He proceeds to squeeze your waist on either side. “But what do you prefer?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter with a shrug.

“Gun to your head, which looks better?” he smiles.

His extremist question earns him an eye roll but you answer him nonetheless after a beat.

“I like your short hair,” you finalize earnestly.

He grins, cupping your face with one hand as he places a kiss on your cheek — then on your jaw, and one in the crook of your neck.

“Yeah?” he murmurs against the sensitive skin.

You nod, a small smile dancing across your lips at his tender affections.

“You look very handsome with a clean undercut. The day I met you I actually thought you were really good-looking.”

He pulls away from his task on your neck to stare at you in disbelief.

“And yet you refused to go out with me. I can’t believe you.”

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment.

You laugh. The sound swells him with pride — it lights up the room.

“Looks aren't everything, dummy. You're so shallow.”

It's your turn to feign disappointment while he stands there, amused.

“Right, right,” he nods. “I forgot you fell for me because I'm a strong and dependable man.”

He flexes his muscles, making a whole show out of his pointed remark.

You roll your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your face is hard to deny.

“Isn't that right?” he teases.

You don't humor him with an answer — there's no real need for it.

With his hands settled comfortably on your hips, he guides you backward, until your back is pressed against the counter, before he hoists you up and sets you onto it with ease. You welcome him between your thighs with a smile, breath hitching when he caresses your knee over your jeans and buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“My baby,” he coos, pressing an open-mouthed kiss onto your skin.

You giggle at the teasing meaning behind the affectionate name, heart fluttering at the feeling of him smiling against your skin.

The both of you keep your positions for a while — him breathing in your perfume while you stroke his soft hair tenderly.

Being with Eren feels so easy. It's a wonder how comfortable you feel with barely a week tallied for your relationship. Each morning and evening when he drives you to and from work have definitely helped.

After your sobbing confession outside of your apartment, you apologized for making Eren feel as though he was troubling you by being so attentive.

All the accumulated trauma in your heart had ironically made you the perpetrator of making him believe there was no real place for him in your life even after you accepted his liking for you. He didn't ask any followup questions that night, but he understood and vowed to be patient.

You're still trying to be okay with that — his unmoving loyalty. But it's easier to accept when you remind yourself he wouldn't stick around if he didn't want to.

Looking down at the boy in your arms, you smile. He can be so childish at times — teasing you, insisting you hold him, easily shaken by a few late nights. And yet there was something so comforting in his behavior. He's always so happy to see you, making sure to clock in quality time hours — not that he didn't enjoy the daily drives, but it wasn't exactly a date. Not to mention his unwavering need to make sure you're safe. At least his rare stubbornness has good reason.

Reluctantly abandoning the comfort of your neck, he lifts his face to meet your eyes. His gaze bores into yours, engulfing you in warm pools of emerald.

A lazy grin takes over his features.

“I like that,” he murmurs.

Your eyebrows twitch in confusion.

“This,” he explains, bringing a hand to your head and mimicking the strokes you've weaved into his hair. “It feels nice.”

An airy chuckle escapes your lips and you make a point to stroke his hair more.

His face hovers over yours. His hands rest on either side of you as he leans into your affections. His eyes flutter closed as he sighs at your touch.

You look up at him mesmerized by his angelic features. It's true you've always thought he's handsome, but this closeness makes you appreciate every detail of his face even more. His long lashes, the faint freckles on his nose, the thick eyebrows that are softening with each feel of your fingers combing through his hair, the perfect plump lips that whisper your name.

It makes your heart pound against your ribs loudly, the sound echoing in your ears as your hands grow sweaty.

That's when you decide to pull him in for a kiss. His eyes flutter open for a split second of surprise before they close again, at peace and happy. Your hands lose themselves in his hair as his wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter by the small of your back.

The contact is painfully slow, with measured pecks in between deeper kisses. He melts into you, lips softly grazing yours, breath fanning across your mouth as he nips at your bottom lip with his teeth to later soothe the area with his tongue. His lips slot warmly between yours, dragging out at a snail's pace before coming back.

The tip of his tongue pokes between your lips, shy but determined to be granted the access you so easily provide. A soft moan bubbles up your throat as his tongue caresses yours with vehemence. It's unusually hot, but the foreign feeling of his tongue in your mouth is greatly appreciated, marked by the way you desperately try to pull him even closer, in hopes that he can swallow you whole.

The pit of your stomach flutters and stirs with the most pleasant tingle when one of his hands travels to the back of your neck and he pushes his hips against yours. Despite the layers keeping you apart, it's easy to tell he's grown hard from the sweet exchange. He's rock solid under his pants, the delicate moans that bounce off your tongue and onto his making him bigger with every passing second.

He knows you can feel it, but you don't seem to mind, your head too dizzy with the collective sensations being fed to your body — his warm tongue, his bulge brushing your most sensitive spot over your jeans, his left hand holding you in place by the back of your neck while the other firmly squeezes your waist as he's consumed by the passionate kiss.

You cling onto him, thighs drawing closer to keep him flush against you. His hips roll against yours, brushing so deliciously against the spot that's growing wet beneath your clothing that it sends a tickle up your insides.

He sucks on your tongue, the act drawing more lustful mewls from the back of your throat.

You're feverish, your face burning when your shirt happens to rise, exposing your midriff to his calloused fingers which were so careful not to touch any new skin before the incident.

There's a string of saliva that connects your mouths when you finally break your fervent makeout. His lips are swollen and glossy with your saliva, as you're sure yours are with his.

“Eren,” you weakly whine in between breaths.

“Hm?” he hums, as he parts from your mouth to leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck.

You shudder when he swirls his tongue against your sweet spot before gently kissing it.

You whine his name again, though your voice has a stronger shape to it this time.

He turns to face you, pecking your lips just once before easing his grip on your body.

“I know,” he murmurs. “Slow, I remember.”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

His nose brushes against yours as he tilts his head to press a calmer, cooler kiss onto your lips.

“I want to, by the way,” you admit bashfully, avoiding his blown pupils and opting to look at a blank point on his shirt. “Just… not yet.”

When your gaze flickers to his, he's looking down at you warmly.

“I understand,” he murmurs.

Your eyes flit toward the window, reminding you of how late it's getting.

“I should go, it's already dark out.”

Eren nods, pulling back from the counter until you both notice the tent in his pants. You tear your gaze from the area, searching for something of interest elsewhere.

He blushes, ready to express an apology for his body's reaction to your wanton moans and feverish kisses, but you hop off the counter and trail off to the living room to search for your jacket before he can, leaving him to softly laugh at your meek behavior as he makes his way to the bathroom.

When he comes looking for you in the living room a couple of minutes later, you're seated on the couch, waiting patiently for him.

You smile upon his return, no trace of embarrassment left on your features.

“Do you really have to go?” he asks.

Your expression softens but you nod.

“We have work tomorrow. And I know how you get if you don't get your beauty sleep,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, but wears a playful smile nonetheless.

“No. I mean,” he takes a deep breath. “You could stay the night… if you want to.”

His voice grows timid with every word as he gauges your reaction to his offer. He doesn't want to be pushy, by any means, but he hopes you'll accept.

He watches you chew on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say.

“Unless, of course, that goes against the whole taking-things-slow agreement,” he awkwardly laughs. “But I just… figured you should know… I wouldn’t object to you spending the night. No funny business. Just… to sleep.”

A breath of relief pushes past his lips when a small smile finally grows over your previously troubled features.

“Maybe not tonight,” you say. “But I’ll think about it.”

His lips curl inwards to hide his smile before he holds his hand out to you so you can head out the door together.

Eren swings your linked hands as you travel down the hall from the elevator. It's a habit he's developed over the past few days after seeing you cry for the first time.

The image lingered with bitterness in his head the entire night. It still pops up every now and then, reminding him he has to do everything in his capability to keep it from happening again.

As you walk to your door, hands comically swinging more aggressively each time with Eren's playful attitude, he marvels at your laughing face, feeling at ease with everything concerning you.

He finally eases up on his swing when you reach your door, but your fingers remain laced with his until you absolutely have to part ways.

“Sorry I was so tired today,” he says, holding your hands up to compare the difference in size. He presses his palm against yours, eyes shimmering at the sight before he grabs your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. “I'll make it up to you next time.”

“I don't mind just hanging out,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “It's fun.”

He smiles as he watches you fish your keys out of your jacket pocket with your free hand. The click of the lock always comes before letting go, but it's fine because he still gets to see you tomorrow morning for the drive to your office.

You turn to him, leaving the keys dangling on the lock as you drape your arms around his neck.

“By the way,” you murmur, pressing yourself further into his chest when his arms wrap around your waist. “You can spend the night at my place, too, if you want.”

His features twitch and his eyes light up with interest at the offer.

“No funny business,” you add, before pressing a kiss on his cheek. “Just to sleep.”

He laughs.

“Of course. What kind of guy do you take me for?”

You smile, affectionately brushing your nose against his with your eyes closed.

“Just thought I'd let you know.”

“I’ll think about it,” he murmurs mockingly, echoing your response from earlier.

You look up at him quizzically.

“Do I sense some competition over whose apartment we stay at first?” you accuse.

“I’ll get on my knees if you want,” he quips without missing a beat, not bothering to be cool about the topic.

You giggle.

“Perfect. I love pathetic men.”

He stifles a laugh, eyes twinkling in amusement as a reflection of yours. Then he turns on a comically serious expression.

“Baby, I’m as pathetic as they come,” he firmly states, which makes you laugh even more.

“You're such a dork,” you giggle.

He hugs you tightly, playfully rocking your connected bodies in the middle of the hallway as he peppers your face with kisses, relishing in your amused squeals.

The giddiness in your expression remains even after you're both standing still and he's no longer attacking you with kisses.

“Thank you for making time for me,” you smile. “I mean, you already do so much with driving me to work and everything. If you’re ever not in the mood, you can—”

He cuts you off with a chaste kiss to your lips.

“It’s my pleasure.”

You bite back a grin and nod.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs before letting go and beginning his journey out with backwards steps.

“Bye, Eren,” you smile.

Before he can turn on his heel, you catch up to him, instantly making him drop his confused expression for a much softer one when you press your lips against his in one last kiss goodbye. When you pull back, he's got a goofy grin on his face as he waits for you to explain yourself.

You smile shyly.

“For the road.”

November 4, 2024

I found out where my angel lives. It's not too bad a place, but I'm sure she'll like the room I'm fixing for her better. I'm working on a way to get some of her favorite things over to my place. Hopefully she won't miss them too much before I can reunite her with them.

I'm so relieved. It was worth keeping an eye on her for the last few days. The only downside to come out of this is that I have to see that jerk's stupid face everywhere. He just can't leave her alone for a damn second.

It pisses me off to see him touch her like it's nothing. That should be ME kissing her and making her laugh. Not him. He shouldn't be allowed to touch her. Still, she looks so happy each time. But I can't be mad at her. I could never be mad at my angel. She'll realize soon enough that I'm the one meant for her. I just have to suck it up in the meantime. It's bad enough that I have to keep my distance for now but do I have to see her smiling at the wrong guy, too? I can't take it.

She's gotten prettier. It seems impossible but it's true. I could look at her for days on end — and I have the past week as proof. Her smile is brighter and she's practically glowing. It only makes the wait even harder but I still have so much to get done for her arrival. I can't wait to see the look on her face when I finally bring her home with me so we can be happy together.

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taglist: @erenjaegerwifee @youatemylollipop @okaystopwhore @bakuhoethotski

#eren yeager x reader #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger fluff #eren yeager smut #eren yeager fanfiction #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x y/n #snk smut #snk x reader

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hobiebrownismygod · 4 months

Note

(today is a day for ideas, good Jesus)

This is like my third ask today but I have so many ideas and I have to write them down or I'll forget. Sorry you have to face the blunt of it. This request is kinda sad, that's also my fault

Hobie Brown x reader but where reader had a crush on him but Hobie never seemed to notice but after she gets fed up with it and moves on. After she does this she's much more natural and sure of herself because she's not trying to impress him anymore, that's when he starts to fall for her too.

Please tell me someone else can even slightly see this vision

Thank you, take as long as you need

And I hope you a happy time

I'm gonna turn this request into a two-part fic because I don't think I'll be able to get the whole plot into one lol 😭 thank you for requesting!!

Forgotten Girl Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader Part 1/2

Synopsis: You got tired of running after someone who wasn't interested, so you stopped...only for him to gain interest right afterwards.

WC: <;1k

TW: unedited, somewhat angst/pining, femreader

Taglist: @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @lauryn2558 @sunasslut69 @ask-1610-miles @axels-garden @s6onder

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TAGLIST ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── MASTERLIST

He never noticed you. No matter how many times you made eye contact with him, waved at him, batted your eyes at him, put your hand on his shoulder, giggled at one of his stupid jokes, he never ever seemed to realize you were there.

Of course...he noticed you...but he didn't notice you. His head never turned when you walked into the room, he never looked at you longer than he had to, and worst of all, he called you his mate.

The most platonic term you could call someone.

Mate.

Never darling, never love, never sweetheart.

Mate.

"Oi, whatcha doin' there mate?"

You snapped your head to the side to see none other than Hobie Brown, looking over your shoulder with a slight smile on his face, squinting to read the words on the page of the book you were reading.

You flinched forward slightly, not having expected him, before giving him an awkward smile. "Just reading. You?"

"Just watching you." he replied with a friendly grin before glancing back towards where he'd come from. "You haven't seen Gwendy or Pav around anywhere, have you?"

Your expression deflated. "I think I saw Gwen walk past a couple minutes ago. She was heading towards Miguel's room." You said softly, looking back down at your book and crossing your legs together, trying to bite back the waver appearing in your voice.

"Mmm." he nodded, looking back over his shoulder at you. "You here all by y'self?"

"Yep. All by myself." You said as you cleared your throat. His expression softened slightly and he walked back over towards you, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his vest. "You alright?"

"Fine. Why do you ask?" You tried to avoid his eyes, keeping your head buried in your book.

"I just-" He hesitated, "I don't think I've ever talked to you alone before. You're acting a bit...shy."

"I'm not shy." You mumbled, glaring back up at him. "Of course not." He replied, shooting you a sly grin. "Can't blame me for wondering though. You barely say a word to me, so I can't read y'like I can all the others."

"I talk to you often."

"Really?"

"I'm talking to you right now, aren't I?"

He chuckled deeply, looking down and shaking his head for a moment. "Cheeky." You felt your face heat up and you immediately looked back down, clearing your throat. "Hobie?"

"Yeah?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at you playfully.

"You ever thought about being in a relationship?" You asked awkwardly.

"Wot?" He blinked, a smile spreading across his face. "Where'd that come from?"

You clasped your hands together with an embarrassed expression, staring straight at the ground. "I dunno. Just did."

"Well...I s'pose. I never really thought about it. I don't think anyone'd have me to be honest." He laughed. "What about you, mate?"

"I'm sure someone'd take you." You replied, ignoring how he shot your question back at you. "I mean, look at you." You immediately swallowed, looking back down as the weight of your words suddenly collapsed onto your shoulders.

He didn't seem to notice, simply laughing and nodding. "I am a bit of a looker, aren't I?" He teased, standing up straight. "It's all part of the Spider-punk charm." he winked.

"I agree." you smiled gently, looking up at him. You were being fairly obvious at this point, but he still didn't seem to be taking the hint.

That was how it'd always been. It was like he couldn't dream of being with you. He never seemed to notice your badly-disguised glances and awkward giggles. The way you'd adjust your suit when he walked by, looking down at the ground when he was in front of you and almost always refusing to make eye contact.

It was so obvious and still wouldn't realize.

In fact, the conversation was beginning to get tiring. The two of you simply continued, with your attempts at flirting quickly being shut down by how normal he was being.

"I think you'd make a great partner." You'd say, giving him a crystal clear smile, only to be met with a, "Oh definitely. Whoever I end up with is gonna be lucky."

The conversation would continue on...

"Very lucky. I'd kill to be in their position."

"Ha! You're a funny one, mate."

There was nothing you could do in response besides nod and smile, silently begging for some sort of escape. It was so embarrassing that you just couldn't handle it anymore.

And this happened every damn time.

Honestly...was there even a point anymore? It was starting to look like he'd never catch your drift.

Maybe he knew. Maybe he just didn't like you that way.

Yes, that was probably it. There's no way a normal person wouldn't be able to take a hint so obvious...he just wasn't interested.

Sad. But understandable.

"Weren't you looking for Gwen and Pav?" You said quickly, interrupting him. He raised a brow slightly, his expression lighting up. "Oh, right! I'll go find them then. See you around, mate."

He tipped his head towards you and gave you a smile. You returned it, your expression immediately dropping the moment he turned away. You watched his lanky figure leave, releasing your breath in a long deep sigh.

There was no point.

It just...wasn't meant to be.

He didn't notice you.

And he never would.

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another-lost-mc · 1 year

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Fairy Tales and Paw Prints

You're selected for the Devildom exchange program, but you're not alone.

SATAN x gn!Reader 3.5k Words | SFW | Fluff, Developing Relationship, Misunderstandings/Jealousy A/N: MC's cat isn't named but referred to as he/him. Obey Me! Masterlist

Satan is irritated when Lucifer calls all of his brothers to the library for a family meeting a couple days after your arrival in the Devildom. He feigns disinterest when Lucifer announces your feline pet from the human world has been brought to the House of Lamentation as well.

He watches Lucifer’s exasperated expression with amusement when Asmo complains loudly about cat fur getting all over his expensive clothes, and Levi pipes up that the animal might damage some of his rare collectibles. Mammon makes the mistake of wondering out loud whether human pets are worth anything to Devildom collectors, and Beel has the decency to look the slightest bit ashamed when he clarifies the cat is not for eating.

Lucifer silences them all with a frosty glare, and he emphasizes with a tone that will hear no argument that you’ve accepted responsibility for the animal and any upkeep it requires. He stomps from the room, clearly fed up with the discussion, and Satan and the rest of his brothers leave too - some of them still grumbling about the hassle of having a new pet around.

For all the fuss your pet created at first, Satan notices that your cat hardly makes an appearance in the days since. He doesn’t see the cat when you pass by the kitchen to grab a snack on the way to RAD, and you keep your door closed when you join the brothers for dinner. He thinks he can hear you talking to your pet in the evenings, and he knows he’s heard little chirps and meows that verify the animal’s existence.

Satan doesn’t care. And he’s definitely not disappointed.

He’s reading in the library one night after dinner when you slip in quietly and walk past him, oblivious to his presence, and stop in front of a bookcase nearby. You don't realize you’re looking in the section written exclusively in ancient demonic tongues - you slide books off the shelves, flip through the first couple pages, and then put them back just as quickly.

He’s never going to finish this chapter with that sort of distraction. “It’s hard to read when you’re making a mess of my shelving system,” he says when you reject the sixth book you pick up. He sets his book aside and stands up from the sofa he was reclining on. The surprised little noise you make is not cute in the slightest.

“I’m having trouble finding something that’s not - whatever this language is,” you explain bashfully. You seem to wither under his gaze, and you look away. “I wasn’t able to bring any books with me.”

Satan takes pity on you, but he’s not prepared to console crying humans today. “Come with me,” he says a bit more firmly than he intends to. He doesn’t look back but he doesn’t have to; you hesitate only for a moment before following him dutifully from the library towards his room.

He stops in front of his door and you look at him curiously when he meets your gaze over his shoulder. “Everything in my room is carefully organized. Do not touch anything. Do you understand?” When you gulp and nod your acceptance of his terms, he finally opens the door, walking inside.

You stop in the doorway and stare with blatant shock at the state of his room. Carefully organized? Your eyes scan the wobbly towers of books that fill the space and make it feel uncomfortably cramped. You can barely see a clear path on the floor to walk on. You take a tentative step forward, nearly tripping over a stack of books just inside the door. You flail around trying to find balance, resisting the very real urge to turn around and run for your life.

This room is a death trap.

“What kind of books do you like?” comes his slightly muffled voice. You think you can see a blonde tuft of hair peeking out from behind one of the many bookcases scattered around the room but you can’t be certain. The curtains are drawn and the room is poorly lit.

“I’m not picky,” you say hurriedly. “Anything is fine.” Anything that will get me out of here sooner.

When he appears a minute or two later, he’s holding a leather bound book. He offers it to you, but he doesn’t let go when you try to pull it from his grasp. “Grimm’s Fairy Tales. I hope you remember that no matter what you read in its pages, I promise the Devildom can be far more dangerous to humans like yourself.” He releases the book and you pull it to your chest protectively. “Do not mark the pages or fold the corners. When you’re finished, I expect you to return it. That’s a rare edition.”

You nod quickly, thanking him with one last fleeting glance before you spin around and leave before you accidentally knock anything over. When you make it back to your bedroom door, you open it carefully and slip inside, closing it tightly behind you. You look down when you hear a small rumbling purr at your feet.

“Well, I got something to read,” you say to your feline friend when you crouch down and scratch under his chin. He tilts his head back in bliss, completely unaware how close he came to becoming orphaned because of an avalanche of books.

When you lay in bed that night, the borrowed book in your lap and a cat sleeping peacefully on your legs, you allow yourself to finally relax. You’ve had trouble sleeping since your arrival in the Devildom and you hope that reading will help tire you out. You skim through the stories that don’t interest you but find yourself growing drowsy with each fairy tale you complete. When you don’t think you can stay awake any longer, you turn off your bedside lamp and roll over. Your cat makes a disgruntled noise but makes his way up the bed to you, curling against your chest. You fall asleep with his warm fur tickling your chin.

The next evening after dinner, you plan to return Satan’s book. If you can stay in the safety of the library, or the hallway, anywhere that isn’t the book-laden minefield of his bedroom, you figure you’ll ask him for more recommendations. Maybe you overlooked the bookshelves in the library with things you can understand, or maybe he has some more human world books hidden in one of his book piles. It’s worth a shot!

He doesn’t make you wait long when you knock quietly on his door. He peers at you through a gap before swinging it wide open. You think he’s almost impressed you’ve returned so soon, but you blink and the look is gone.

You hold the book out to him, and he spares it a cursory once-over for damage before he nods with satisfaction. It feels like you’ve passed some sort of test and you exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thank you, this isn’t normally my type of book but it was still interesting…”

You trail off when you notice his gaze flickering away from you and towards something down the hall. You hear an excited chirp and see a blur of fluff zoom past you even as you bend down to try and catch your escaped cat. Satan doesn’t fare much better, his fingers barely grazing the animal who darts between his legs and into his bedroom.

“I am so sorry, I guess I didn’t close my door properly,” you explain, feeling more panicked now than that moment you first arrived in the Devildom. You hear soft meows growing quieter as your cat seems to explore deeper into Satan’s room. You’re clicking your tongue to try and draw him back to you, but it’s a lost cause.

Satan pulls something out of his pocket and starts shaking it. You hear a faint, interested chirp deep within the room.

“Why do you have cat treats?” you blurt out curiously, noticing the slight pink blush creeping across his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“There are strays that come to the gardens sometimes,” he explains like it’s absolutely normal. “I give them treats when they visit.” He nearly mentions that he’s been hoping to meet your cat one day too but decides against it.

You nearly sag against the doorframe with relief when your cat comes prancing towards you, eyes focused on the bag dangling from Satan’s fingers. You both watch your cat pounce on the treats he shakes out onto the floor. You lean down and stroke his fur, glad to see he hasn’t gotten himself hurt somehow - you don’t know if books are the only things Satan hoards in his room.

“You can pet him if you like,” you offer, noticing the way Satan’s watching you and your pet like he’s not sure what to do next. He crouches beside you, and you both take turns running your fingers through the cat’s soft fur.

“He’s bigger than I thought he would be,” Satan says quietly. “Siamese?”

“Tonkinese,” you correct him. “He’s friendly and likes to talk, but I didn’t want him to bother anyone else. I’ve been trying to keep him in my room.” You’re surprised with how gentle Satan is being, petting him softly and keeping his voice low to avoid spooking him. You tell Satan your cat’s name, and he repeats it with a small smile.

The spell between you is broken when Satan stands up. You pick up your cat to keep him from darting back into Satan’s room, but he seems content to accept the small head scritches Satan offers before he backs away.

“I’ll text you later to see if I have anything in my library that might suit your reading preferences,” Satan says. He looks at you, then at your cat, and he looks away. “I don’t mind if you want to bring him again. It might be easier than trying to keep him locked up.”

You bid him goodnight and head back to your room, quietly scolding your cat who's certainly going to be on the hunt for more treats now that he’s had a taste of freedom. You don’t notice that Satan watches you until you turn the corner and disappear from view.

Over the next couple weeks, you and Satan fall into a sort of pattern. You visit him in his room - to borrow a book, or to read, or to enjoy his quiet company - with your cat in tow. He gives your cat treats and cuddles while you learn to navigate the tall stacks of books in his room, asking questions about the different Devildom authors he seems to like and offering human world recommendations of your own.

You find a part-time job near RAD to help cover the expenses of bringing your pet to the Devildom. Lucifer already provides you with a monthly stipend, but you want to make sure you can afford both your necessities on your own if necessary. You’re trying not to be a burden, and Lucifer has no issues with you choosing to work; he secretly admires your determination to be self-sufficient. He hopes your good behaviour makes an impression on his troublesome siblings.

You and Satan still find time to spend together despite your busy schedule. He offers to meet you when your shift is over so you don’t have to walk home alone. Sometimes he goes to your room and plays with your cat, sneaking him treats to tide him over until you can give him his dinner upon your return. Satan helps you make purchases using Levi’s Akuzon account which gives you a nice discount, and he helps carry any of the packages that arrive for you that are too bulky or heavy for you to carry on your own.

It surprises everyone else in the House of Lamentation that you and Satan are becoming fast friends. They assumed his unpredictable anger and no-nonsense attitude would scare you off. You’ve seen his temper flare since you arrived, but it’s normally directed towards one of his brothers which makes you feel a bit relieved. Even in his temperamental moods, he makes an effort not to shut you out or turn you away. It’s not a conscious realization, and he wouldn’t admit it to a soul if it were, but your presence relaxes him. Your quiet brand of kindness and consideration for his feelings is a rarity in the Devildom, and he seeks you out when he feels himself slipping back into bouts of fury and violence.

When you grow closer to his siblings, Satan watches from the sidelines like an outsider. His brothers are chaos and trouble, prone to dragging you into their messes. He tells himself that it makes sense you’re getting closer with them too, since you all live together - they should look out for your well-being as much as he does. That sort of connection is bound to lead to friendships, and while your pacts with Mammon and Levi are a surprise to him at first, he understands in theory why they’re beneficial to you.

If he seems a bit harsher with his older brothers after, it’s just a coincidence.

The obvious drawback to your growing collection of demon friends is that his brothers seek you out more often. They’ve forgotten their previous complaints about your cat as they coo over him when he follows you in the hallways. They’ve even said they don’t mind if you feed him in the dining room like he’s part of the family. Sometimes one of the brothers will show up at your door with a surprise for you: some new feather toy for the cat to play with, or a container of dried Devildom herbs that is similar to catnip you buy in the human world.

When you knock on Satan’s door in the evenings, he knows you’re avoiding your room for a reason. His brothers can be selfish at times, and it can be difficult to relax when they’re hovering in your room or the nearby kitchen, constantly seeking your attention and using your cat as an excuse to intrude on your privacy. Sometimes you grab a random book and plunk down in his armchair to read. Other times you join him on his bed, your cat laying across both your laps while you lean lightly against him.

The pacts with you have changed his brothers. Sometimes he thinks about being in a pact with you too - but he dismisses the notion as nothing more than jealousy, something his brother Levi might sulk about. He is absolutely not sulking. He pretends this tug-of-war with his brothers for your friendship doesn’t bother him and for a time, he convinces himself that’s true.

Bottling up his emotions never worked well for Satan in the past, so it shouldn’t surprise him when the annoyance simmering within him boils to a rage.

While you’re at work after school one evening, he browses Akuzon for some new books and some imported human world movies to buy. Eventually he ends up browsing the pet section, because of course he does. He adds a bag of cat food to the cart and decides he’ll forget to ask you to repay him later.

He checks the new arrivals page and a cat tree catches his attention. Your cat’s on his way to being a senior, and Satan’s noticed the way he struggles with jumping on and off some of the furniture in the house. The cat tree has steps he can climb, and wide, tall perches so he can stretch out easily. Satan sees a pet ramp that he adds to the cart too - that might help your cat get on and off your bed more easily. He adds an extra ramp to the cart for his own room - just in case.

Satan approaches your door with his tablet in hand. He would’ve already purchased the cat tree for you (like he intends to), but he wants to make sure there’s enough space for it in your room. He knows you should be home by now; Lucifer was staying late at RAD and offered to walk you home tonight.

Satan pauses outside your room but the excitement drains from him when he hears familiar voices within. He knocks on the door before letting himself inside. You’re sitting at your desk with your homework spread out in front of you. Mammon is teasing your cat with a laser pointer while Asmo films on his DDD and giggles at the way your cat sprints around the room, pouncing on the red dot to no avail.

For someone who complained so much about not wanting a cat before, Asmo doesn’t seem to care that his black leggings are covered in fur.

Mammon laughs and runs the laser across the floor and up Satan’s leg. Your cat pauses at his feet and when he recognizes who the leg belongs to, he chirps and rubs against his leg instead.

The cat’s affection isn’t enough to soften the bitter anger swirling in the pit of his stomach. He spins on his heel and marches away, slamming your door behind him. He hears you call to him, but he keeps walking until he’s back in his room, surrounded by his favourite books and comfortable silence.

He doesn’t know why, but in that moment he despises all of it.

He throws his tablet aside, hearing it hit the wall before it drops to the floor. He slouches on the edge of his bed, grabbing his hair in fistfuls and trying to calm himself down before he destroys everything in arm’s reach.

He’s not sure how much time has passed, but eventually he hears your footsteps pause outside his door. You knock quietly and he hopes you’ll just go away. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He doesn’t want you to see him like this. But you persist, and then a soft mew trills outside the door too, and he realizes you’re not going to leave until he gives you what you want.

He opens the door and blinks at the steaming cup in your hands, your worried eyes gazing at him hopefully. Your cat is walking between both your legs, oblivious to the tension.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” you say. You’re not even sure what you’re apologizing for, but something in his pained expression as he stormed from your room earlier has bothered you since.

Satan tells you he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t even know what it is. All he knows is that he’s not prepared to try and untangle the complicated feelings that make him feel like he’s walking a very thin line over a dark chasm. The tiniest push could set him off, make him fall - and he’s scared about what that might mean for him. And for you.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I thought you might like something warm to help you feel better.” You hold the cup out for him to take, and he recognizes the familiar scent of coffee. He’s never seen you drink coffee in the Devildom, usually preferring tea that Barbatos or the angels offer you at RAD or Purgatory Hall.

He accepts the gesture for what it is - a peace offering, a temporary truce while he sorts out whatever’s going on in his head - and he takes a sip. Your pleased smile falls from your face when he chokes on the drink, and he coughs into the sleeve of his shirt.

Your eyes are panicked and you try to take the cup back from him. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. Is it too hot?”

He shakes his head, clearing his throat. “No, it’s fine. It’s just awfully –” he stops himself, his surprise turning into realization. “You used hell coffee beans to make this?”

You shrug, turning away. You still seem embarrassed by his reaction, assuming you made the drink wrong. “You like to drink it when we’re reading together,” you explain, biting your lip nervously. “If you don’t want it, I can take it back and get you something else.”

He gives you the most reassuring smile he can manage despite his turbulent mood. “No, you’re right. It is my favourite. And you made it well. Thank you.”

You take a few steps back. “Well, I should probably finish my homework. I kicked the others out of my room for the night. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” You start to walk away, cat at your heel, but turn over your shoulder to look at him one more time. “I don’t have to work tomorrow night. We can hang out after dinner if you want?”

You beam at him happily when he nods, and Satan watches you walk away with a bit more bounce to your step. He shuts the door and chuckles quietly while he stares into the cup you gave him. He’s certain you’re not aware of hell coffee’s other properties, the reason why the cup you made specially for him is more bitter than anything he’s ever tasted.

He sits in his chair, sipping from his cup with a smile on his face, and lets the warmth of your brewed affection soothe him.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

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