#giving someone your hat. warming up their hands with yours. faces flushed from the cold. mistletoe. NEED I GO ON | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tartagilicious · 3 years

Text

what they would do if they caught you crying ❄️ // xiao, kazuha, + diluc (established relationships version <3) cw: injuries

XIAO:

- all of the time, i see people frame xiao as this emotionally clueless person, but personally, i just don’t think that stereotype is true — even with his habit of being alone, he reads people. he has life experience. you might be a little more in trouble if you ask him for something like comfort, but, not understanding.

- of course, his brooding appearance doesn’t really elude to this at all. so, it’s understandable as to why you avoid him when you come back to wangshu inn one day, beaten and bruised beyond even your normal level

- you think it’ll only lead to an awkward conversation, when in reality, xiao can actually be quite helpful! i can see him being a ‘listen and help’ now and ‘ask questions’ later kind of person. it tends to be adorable to see how concerned he can actually get over you.

- tears are another question altogether, too. definitely something that deserves his attention, even if you try convincing him you’re alright.

-----

you let out a resigned pant as you shut the door behind you, at last back in your room at wangshu inn once again. or, at the very least, you hope it’s your room — your vision had gone blurry around halfway your trek up the stairs.

unsteady legs take you to the bathroom. you’re relieved to recognise the throwaway products you bring with you on your travels sitting on the sink. in your haze, you knock the foremost bottles to the floor as you stagger to open the cabinet below it, yet when you reach down for the first aid kid, you find yourself stuck.

something inside you breaks at that moment — whether exhaustion or pain had pushed you, there is a single moment wherein you feel nothing but every imperfection on your body. every cut stings, ever bruise tingles, each scrape and sore bone screams to you at once, calling tears to your eyes.

in the back corner of your mind, you think to imagine yourself: half bent in front of the counter, the arm that isn’t supporting you weak at your side. and, of course, the fat tears that run from your red-rimmed eyes, landing amongst the threads of the mat beneath your feet.

somewhere nearby, you hear hinges creak open. an alarmed whisper reaches you ear as someone helps you to the ground, moving your hair from your eyes. there’s a moment of tangible silence that passes between you as your gazes lock. his expression is unreadable as gentle fingers ghost over the bruise on your temple, each bloody imperfection blanketed under his concerned golden eyes.

the world swims around you, extremely unwelcoming in the way it envelops your body in sludge. regardless, you find yourself saying his name. mumbling it, you grasp his arm.

“xiao.” a pained breath leaves your lips as you shut your eyes. “it hurts."

your lips twist as another sob is torn from your throat.

he shushes you gently, a gloved finger coming up to catch the tears that fall over your cheeks. the words that leave his mouth are slightly stiff, as if being read from a script, but the worry in his voice is incessant. it drips into you from every word he speaks, in each kiss that is placed wantonly on your skin.

in every tear he wipes away, there is a silent promise to catch the next one, and the one after that, until he can finally help your pain to subside. he wants nothing more than to see you drifting off to sleep, each wound covered and treated. and no matter how long that takes, he will always be there to wipe your tears.

-----

KAZUHA:

- he himself is vulnerable to his own emotions, what with being subjected to nature, but also the contents of his past. he’s average in that regard — but, i imagine kazuha as being pretty empathetic.

- he knows how to comfort you and does so effortlessly, even if he may be panicking inside. of course, he hates seeing you cry, it’s only expectable for him to know how to comfort you, even if he may not know exactly what’s wrong

- we all have those days. he understands that. so, when you try to hide your sadness from him he will not ever berate you for it, nor will he take it personally. he will only make sure he’s there to help you through it.

-----

you know you’ve spent too much time away when you hear a knock on the bathroom door — three lone taps at the wood, kazuha’s silent and heartfelt signal to you. for a moment, you think to pretend you aren’t there, but he’d seen you enter. there’s no escaping it.

it may be a futile action, but you stand to see your reflection in the mirror anyway. with your eyes slightly swollen and cheeks still damp, all you can do is wipe any tears away and pray that kazuha chooses not to say anything.

slowly, you creak the door open, popping your head out from the crack.

“are you alright in th—“ he pauses. kazuha’s eyes take in your face with more ardor than usual, laced with a familiar unease that sinks to the pit of your stomach. of course, there’s no fooling him.

he puts a hand on the door, as if to gently manoeuvre his way into the bathroom with you — but instead, it rests next to yours, patient as he asks,

“did something happen?"

kazuha’s voice is a perfect melody, composed of the softest winds and crafted from the anemo archon's most beloved songs. it’s that same voice that reaches out to you in this moment, patiently beckoning for something greater than pain, something more atuned to the romantics he pursues. simply, he seeks to be the reason your sadness ceases.

“no, no—“ you try assuring him, a quick laugh leaving your mouth. but, even you are aware of the way you avoid his eyes. “nothing’s happening, it’s alright."

his gaze narrow slightly.

“come on.” kazuha’s hand slides down to take yours, and together, you back into the bathroom. the weight of his hand in yours is far from unfamiliar, but as he shuts the door once again, you have the sudden urge to pull away.

kazuha is not someone you are uncomfortable with, but the level of intimacy between the two of you has nothing to do with wanting to hide your weakest moments. for the first few minutes, you perceive the situation awkwardly. you don’t know quite where to look or what to say, even as tears begin to fill your eyes again.

“please,” he at last whispers to you, head bent down slightly to reach you at eye level. “tell me the reason for your tears."

your lips morph into a gradual frown before you meet his gaze.

damn him. i couldn't refuse.

you throw your arms around his neck, a quiet whine escaping your mouth as he catches you dutifully. kazuha’s hands are warm on your back as he holds you with care, handling you not as something that is broken, but something he’d do anything to keep together.

-----

DILUC:

- sputtering, awkward, foolish — these words can all be used to describe diluc when he’s crushing on someone. you’re definitely not exempted from that either lolol

- his care for you is obvious in the way his cheeks flush when kaeya teases him about you, or the look he gets in his eye when you’re talking to him about something you love. the ways he loves are also ever-present in the way he comforts you.

- he may not look it, but he treats emotions well. in even your most extreme cases, your sadness is his own

-----

he is the first to notice when you dip into the back of angel’s share, giving your blessings to one of your regular patrons with more speed than usual. while the hour does chime high, you normally work alongside him until the last customer leaves the building. your unfaltering persona can be excused with a bad day. but, to just take off so suddenly, it strikes him in the wrong way.

diluc's distress may very well be visible in the way customers began to limit their interactions with him, but he doesn’t mind. if anything, it gives his mind time to wander to you. at first, he resolves to wait for your return, but that hopeful process is crushed when ten minutes pass and you remain missing.

his eyes wander down the bar, briefly going over each of the faces seated. either tipsy or engrossed in conversation, diluc takes the opportunity to nudge charles — a silent warning as he goes off after you.

for a moment as he walks, he thinks of the concern that weighs heavy in his chest. the same concern had always previously been reserved for things such as his business, or the safety of mondstadt. but to feel the same emotion because of another is a completely different sensation. it’s in his nose, in the way he can’t quite figure out where to place his arms as he moves. it’s stifling in the way that nothing else can be, like breathing in hot air on a summer day.

when he reaches you, he opens the door carefully as not to disturb you. a distinct shyness bubbles in his chest at the thought of catching you doing something you shouldn’t be, but when he opens the door, all he sees is you standing there.

your back is to him, body completely still all for the slight way your shoulders shake.

he calls out your name.

you startle easily, arms suddenly moving up to cover your face. diluc’s stomach drops as he approaches you, stopping next to you in front of the counter you lean into. no words are exchanged for a few moments as you continue to cry despite your hands, tears slipping out from beneath your gentle touch and onto the wood below.

diluc places a heavy hand atop your head.

in reality, there’s just not that much more he will allow himself to do — he doesn’t trust himself to say the right thing, or to be the person you need to pull you back from the darkness. there are too many things hat must be plaguing you in this moment for such a thing to happen, and his chest constricts at the thought. in some way, you must be stumbling on your last legs, painfully aware of every nerve and tiny cut on your body; that much is evident in even just the slight shake of your shoulders.

but unbeknownst to him, every instant he stands by you is time you have to heal. over time, you begin to recognise the feel of the cold air biting at your skin, and the contrast of his warm hand over your head. there is nothing you need him to say, nothing you need him to do, he himself is all you will ever need.

#i feel like my writing is so cheesy lately LMAO #anyways kazuha pls i can cook and clean #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact xiao #gi xiao #genshin impact kazuha #gi kazuha #genshin impact diluc #gi diluc

341 notes · View notes

pleasantanathema · 3 years

Text

Kenny Ackerman | of Death and Cigars

Pairing: Kenny Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Bloodplay, Blood Tasting, Bloody Bathwater, Biting, Age Gap, Kenny says cunny because of course he would

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Back by popular demand, it’s the dirty old man. This is part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read more fanfics I’m writing to celebrate ❤️

The warm bathwater was ghoulish, slowly bleeding from pink to red the longer you sat in it.

At least Kenny didn’t look bad wet. Or bloody, for that matter. But you were used to seeing him caked in crimson, often found stains of it left in the rough patches of his beard. It’s all part of the job, kid. And it was, blood was something you expected out of mercenary work. What you didn’t anticipate was how much you’d enjoy the cleanup, how much you’d take pleasure in sitting between Kenny’s naked legs and let his calloused knuckles wipe someone else’s blood from your skin.

“Got a little on your mouth,” the water splashed as he raised his hand, swiping at your bottom lip, having to repeat the motion a few times to remove the smear, “what did you fucking do, drink his blood?”

Your eyes rolled, “I bit him, he was trying to reach around for my knife.”

Kenny only huffed, flicking water on your face before leaning back and stretching his arms along the edge of the tub. His knuckles popped and his neck cracked as he rolled it, little echoes into the dimly lit room as you fell into silence. You continued to rake a soiled cloth across your arms, most of the water still streaking red over your skin despite your persistence.

“Got some on your back,” he noted, and you could feel his eyes on you, burning spots into your spine.

“Well, wipe it off. Isn’t that what you’re here for? To ‘wash my back’?”

“Nah, I’m just here to look at you naked.”

You groaned, attempting to reach around to your back to clean, fingers aching from the reach. Kenny watched you struggle for a bit before swatting your hand away, gathering the rag in his fist so he could scrub rather brutishly at the elusive plane between your shoulder blades.

The embarrassment of being naked around him had washed away after the first few times you performed this ritual. It was just easier to get clean this way, and you didn’t particularly enjoy waiting for him to bathe first just so you could step into ice cold, murky water. Plus, there were some nights when he was actually tender, started to open up withered petals in the sun and talk about his past whenever he’d had too much to drink before sitting in the water.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, not bothering to hide your curiosity as your eyes flickered over his features. His long hair clung to his shoulders, wrinkles pulled around his mouth from where he held it to the side in concentration. His lean shoulders were freckles from days in the sun, muscles in his arms rolling as he attempted to wash away the scarlet splotches from your skin.

He’d taught you how to slaughter people in his own gruesome, throat-splitting way. He’d hand picked you for the Anti-Personnel Control squad—said he saw something vicious in you, and maybe he did.

“Don’t look at me with those big eyes, kid. You’re gonna make my cock hard.”

“Your cock’s already hard.”

“Then maybe you should clean that next. Sure your mouth would do better than a rag.”

You mumbled something about him being disgusting, but kept most of it trapped in your throat. His hands felt particularly good kneading into your back. Not to mention the last time you’d been too sassy with him, he let you go to bed bloody. You reeked of iron for days.

You stood in the tub, carefully posturing your feet around his outstretched legs, keeping your back to him as you stretched and prepped to leave. But as you turned to the side, you caught a glimpse of blood in his hairline, something he never thinks about since he’s always in his fucking hat.

“There’s—ugh fuck it,” you knelt back down, caging his thighs with your own so you could sit in his lap and work at chipping away at the dried, grimy substance with your nails.

“Now that’s more like it,” he unabashedly moved his hands to your waist, long fingers skimming upward to brush the underside of your breasts, “shame you have to keep these pretty tits covered all day.”

“You’re such a fucking pervert.”

“Hey, you agreed to bath time with dear old Kenny.”

He had a point, but you didn’t have to explain yourself. Not to him.

You kept having to tilt his chin up and away from staring at your chest so you could weave your fingers into the surprisingly thick strands of hair. Droplets started forming at his forehead from your actions, water turning red as it absorbed the remnants of a very dirty and very busy night.

“You feel good in my lap,” he hummed, rocking you forward so you could feel just how much he meant with it with the cock straining against his stomach. You attempted to lift yourself away from him, but he only pulled you closer, brought your breasts up to his face so he could lick the water away from one of your nipples. You hated the jolt of pleasure that raced down your skin at the lewd touch, biting your tongue avoid any untoward sound slipping out.

Kenny repeated the action when you didn’t pull away, this time his tongue flat, placing a long, hot stripe over your nipple and over the curve of your breast.

“Stop that.”

“Do you really want me to?”

He didn’t give you the chance to answer, instead enveloped your hardened peak with his warm mouth. You shivered at the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, the hands in his hair pulling him toward you instead of pushing away. He smirked against your tit, tip of tongue circling your nipple until he finally heard you moan. It was the faintest sound, one you barely recognized came from your mouth, but he heard it.

His hand on your hip sunk lower under the water line, thumb tracing the inside of your thigh, creeping closer to the one place he hadn’t dared to touch before. Well, that wasn’t quite true; he’d attempted once before, but you scratched his wrist so hard that he bled. This time you didn’t bother to stop him, the curiosity of what his fingers would feel like nearly killing you.

“Bet you’ve got a real tight cunny, don’t you?”

“Kenny—” you scold stopped mid-breath as his middle finger brushed your clit, pushing farther back to probe at your tight hole. He started sucking at your breast, taking the fat in between his teeth as he groaned at the feeling of your folds against his hand.

You were glad you couldn’t see the delight in his eyes when you sat deeper into his lap, urging his fingers to explore further, to press up inside you just so you could know how it felt. He obliged your silent request, sinking his finger into your heat and feeling the moan that reverberated from your chest.

It felt good, and he knew just how to curl his knuckle, how to swipe his thumb against your clit in the same motion to have your head falling back. Your hips rolled against your better judgement, encouraging him to nestle a second finger inside of you, pumping them both and stretching you apart.

“Yeah you like that, don’t you? Little whore likes her cunny stuffed.”

“If only I could stuff your fucking mouth.”

“Next time.”

You weren’t sure if it was frustration or ecstasy that trickled down your back and settled in your stomach, but you didn’t care, not when his fingers started pushing a little harder. Kenny’s lips started to make a trail up your chest, messy, wet kisses that had your skin burning under his beard. He stopped at your neck, wicked tongue daring to lap at the bloody water that pooled against your collarbone.

“Fuck I can’t take this teasing shit. Sit on my cock.”

Demands from him weren’t uncommon, he was your superior, after all, but this one had your cheeks flushing. You gasped when he uncurled his fingers from inside of you, shaking his wrist under the water like he was cleaning them. Your hands fell down to his shoulders, nails pressing into the muscled sinews as you lowered yourself just like he told you to.

You tried to look away from him as you felt his cockhead breach that first ring of muscle, your cunt too willingly sucking him in, but he caught your jaw, making you look down at him. His grey eyes were always piercing, like they were cutting through you like a knife twisting in flesh, and this time was no different. It was like he was looking through you, reading the jumbled thoughts rolling in your head as you started to sink down his length.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, “You’ve still got a little blood on your lips. Let me clean that for you.”

His kiss was rough, assertive, mouth slanting against yours in a mixture of control and desperation. For a moment, you thought not to kiss him back, a metallic flash of crimson hitting your tongue signaling that he was, indeed, telling the truth. But your mouth opened of its own will when his lengthy cock finally bottomed out inside of you.

One of his hands looped around the back of your neck, crushing your mouth against his as he started to rock you in his lap. You felt startlingly full, cock spreading your insides as you started to move with him.

A small pang of disgust hit you when his tongue snaked into your mouth, but you washed that down with the taste of him, with the taste of blood and tobacco, of death and cigars.

Your clit was sliding perfectly against the thatch of wiry black curls at the base of his cock, pleasure brewing in your pussy and traveling to your fingers, your toes. When he pulled away from your lips, his tongue licked at your cheek before he started to bounce you harder in his lap. Bloodstained water sloshed from the edges of the tub, sinking into the grout and tiles.

“I’ve come in my hand so many times thinking about you, kid.” He laughed at the look on your face from his confession. “Ain’t gonna take me long to cum inside this pretty little pussy.”

“God I fucking hate you,” you hissed, but you kept up the pace, feeling that rather blissful and dreadful pull of orgasm.

“That so? Then why’re you just getting tighter around me? Feels like you like my cock.”

You didn’t have the effort for a retort, your head falling to his shoulder as you began to ride him harder, ready to cum and go dwell in the shame afterwards.

Kenny was panting, clearly enjoying himself as his big hands groped at your ass, helping you slide along his cock under the water. You hated that he smelled good, hated that he felt good, hated that he knew exactly what he was doing, pulling your cheeks apart and making you spread and used.

“Bite me.”

You almost didn’t hear him over your own whimpers, gritting out a simple, “What?”

“You h-heard me, kid. Bite me like you did that fucker earlier. Wanna see what it feels like.”

It was an opportunity you weren’t going to pass up. You caught your breath, blinking your eyes for a second so you could see straight through the haze of pleasure. You chose the tender spot between neck and shoulder, sinking your teeth into his tawny skin slowly, putting pressure on your canines so he’d feel that thrill of pain.

He moaned so loudly it actually made you flush, made your ears burn from how lewd it sounded. It spurred you to bite harder, to sink so deep into flesh that you felt his own blood slip past your lips.

The pulsing of his cock made you see colors, made you gasp and release his shoulder and nearly double over from the euphoria that rippled through your body. He stopped moving, but your body still shook, slapped with a climax you didn’t expect just from feeling cum pour inside your cunt, from feeling his cock twitch and throb and explode inside you. You spasmed around him, brows pinching together as you tried to come back to your senses.

You supposed he wasn’t kidding about not going to last long, you just felt embarrassment creep over your psyche at the fact that you’d fallen right behind him, wasting away in his lap.

After a few moments, you finally sat back, groaning at that too-full feeling of still having him inside of you. You gripped his jaw like he did yours earlier, bringing him back to life to look up at you.

“You can have your blood back,” you slid your messy mouth against his, both of you moaning a little too deeply as you shared his taste between your tongues.

#Kenny Ackerman smut #kenny smut #kenny ackerman #Kenny Ackerman x reader #kenny x reader #bloodplay #snk kenny #aot kenny #kenny x you #Kenny Ackerman x you #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #snk #aot

879 notes · View notes

foli-vora · 3 years

Text

more than words, pt.3

A/N: Thank you for all the love! 🥺🥰 overwhelmed by the reaction I’ve had to this story! Super excited that so many of you are coming along for the ride! There is a tag list for this—let me know if you’d like to be added! (I apologise if I’ve missed anyone!) I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader, best friend!Benny Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, general first date nerves that trigger my anxiety x10

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

He was trying to listen. He really was, but God, how many times can you hear the same thing over and over and over again before you start to drift away from the conversation? He knew the answer. He had a very short attention span when it came to certain subjects – he’ll admit that freely – so when you continued to gush about his best friend, his main man, naturally his attention fell to the couple seemingly having an argument by their truck in the parking lot. Hmm… wonder what they’re fighting about? He purses his lips, watching the girl deliver one hell of a slap across her boyfriend’s face and strut away, tears streaking mascara down her face. Cheater. Definitely a cheater.

“Benny? Are you even listening to me?”

His eyes roll back to you, taking in your narrowed eyes and angry chewing as a slice of pizza dangles from your hand. Was he listening? Well, he did for the first few minutes… does that still count?

He finally answers, tone flat and uninterested. “No.”

“Ben.”

He shrugs, gesturing to the scene outside the window with a flick of his head. “Malibu barbie just smacked the shit out of her beau.”

Your head snaps to where he was looking, shamelessly curious. “Cheater?”

“That’s my bet.”

You both fall quiet, watching the strangers play out a scene that really should belong in a cringe-worthy daytime reality show while you chew. It’s almost depressing, how eagerly you both watch someone else’s life seemingly crumble in public. But the longer they scream and cry, the longer they yell and fight, the harder it is to tear your eyes away.

“Shit.” Benny sighs, reclining in the booth and stretching his arms up and behind him once the couple in conflict goes their separate ways. “That was the most interesting thing that happened to me all week.”

“Not me,” you sing with a smile, fondly remembering the phone calls and texts you had been sharing with Frankie the past few days. Benny sighs in irritation, neck cracking as he rolls his head on his shoulders.

“I swear, if you talk any more about Fish, I’m gonna throw myself out of this fuckin’ window.” He levels you with a challenging stare, lips twitching as you eye the glass critically. “I’ll do it, too. Try me.”

Deflating, you sag in your seat and fiddle with the peeling label on your beer bottle, realising with a wave of slight shame that you had been talking about Frankie ever since you sat down at the table. “I’m sorry, Benny. I’m just excited. He seems really cool, and nice, and –”

“Alright then.” He stands abruptly, kneeling on the worn leather to brace a shoulder against the glass panel with a look of severe concentration.

“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry – sit down, you idiot!” Laughing loudly, you tug at his shirt until he sits with a lazy grin and you shake your head. “God, you are such a child, Benjamin.”

He snorts, pinching a cold fry from the basket in the middle of the table and waving it at you. “You love me.”

Grinning, you snatch it from his fingers, and chew it loudly, grinning at his pout. “I sure do, especially when you set me up with your gorgeous fri–”

He groans loudly, “Enough, woman. I’ll throw you out of this fuckin’ window in a minute. Get me another beer.”

“You’re callin’ the wrong friend, angel.” Benny drawls lazily, “I’m no good with these kinds of pep talks.”

“Benny, I’m freaking out, please –”

The car feels small, cramped. The open windows letting in the cool evening air does nothing for you trying to suck in a lungful of oxygen as you pull nervously at your jacket. Have you overdressed? Underdressed? What would he be wearing? You hadn’t been on a first date in months.

“Look, I can almost guarantee you he’s somewhere having this exact conversation with another friend of mine. You’re both stress heads. Just relax – he’s gonna love you.”

You stare vacantly at your steering wheel, swallowing around the lump of anxiety stuck in your throat. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

He snorts in amusement, “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it now – puking on the poor guy isn’t a first date thing. And don’t forget to rinse your mouth out.”

Leave it to the younger Miller to make you feel ten times worse. “Oh God. Ben –”

“You’ll be fine. Now get out of your car.”

“But –”

“Get. Out. of your car.” He waits, listening intently to the mechanical whirr of your windows as they close, smiling when he hears the loud thump of your car door shutting. “There we go. Now breathe, and get marchin’ – you got this. And don’t call me again – I’m watching a fight. Pay per view isn’t cheap.”

“Right. Sorry. Thanks Benny.”

“Anytime, angel. Have fun.”

You ring your hands as you start walking the short distance to the bar, running through a last-minute check of your appearance. Nothing in your teeth. No stains on your clothes. You fidget with the hem of your skirt, brushing the non-existent dirt from the fabric and making sure it’s not horrifically tucked in to your underwear at the back.

Oh God, your palms are so sweaty. What if he shakes your hand? His hand will slide right off. He’d be mortified. Who even goes for a handshake on a first date anyways? You’re being silly. Everything’s fine. You look great. Did you put deodorant on?

The twisting of your stomach and panicked rush of thoughts thankfully pause when your eyes catch Frankie standing outside the bar, hands buried deep in his pockets and dark eyes flickering around at the passers-by somewhat nervously. When they land on you, the apprehension seems to melt from his shoulders and he grins. Unable to stop the smile creeping on your face in response, you now walk without the sick feeling of anxiety creeping up your throat.

He strides forward to greet you, and for a brief second, you wonder how you should greet him. It’s not like you were strangers, per se, you had been talking on the phone all week, but where did you stand in the physical sense? Certainly not a handshake.

Throwing caution to the wind, you bounce forward and greet him with a hug, hoping to high heaven he doesn’t push you away and call the whole thing off.

He doesn’t.

Inwardly screaming, you melt at the feeling of a pair of strong arms winding around your waist, a small quiet chuckle brushing past your ear. Oh shit, oh fuck… he smells divine.

“Hi,” you mutter shyly when you pull away, a flush of warmth flooding through you from top to toe when he smiles kindly and hovers only a step away.

“Hi,”

You can’t help but admire his features up close; the ones that were lost on the photo Ben had shown you when first trying to convince you into this arrangement. His eyes were a lot darker, tousled curls longer than they had looked when they were hidden under a well-loved hat. A light flush of pink sweeps up his neck and along his cheeks, and you watch it fondly with a wild flutter of your heart.

Okay, you could just stand here all night and stare at him, but that might freak him out a little… maybe try speaking. Talk. Just talk. Say something smart – something stimulating. First date impressions and all that.

“It’s fucking freezing.”

What? No. You did not just say that. Seriously? That’s what had to bubble from your mouth? Are you kidding?

You want to face palm, want to just turn around and march right back to your car with a text to Benny saying ‘thanks, but we can’t be friends anymore’ and just disappear from the face of the Earth. God, he’s going to give you so much shit for this.

Thankfully though, Frankie doesn’t seem bothered by your blurted out statement in the slightest, and even grins, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, it is.” He watches you shift on your feet, smile widening just a little more at the look of complete horror that had just washed your features before he had spoken, and then half turns, “Shall we?” Oh God, what was that? Pope’s gonna kill him. You’ve got his head in a complete spin and now he’s forgotten Pope’s whole pep talk. Shit. Shit. Be cool. Be cool... what the fuck does ‘be cool’ even mean?

The bar’s warm when you both walk in side by side, Frankie’s hand placed softly on your lower back as he leads you to the bar, and then through to a spare table, nestled out of the way and tucked into the farthest corner after he buys your drinks. He lets you sit first, and you’re pleasantly surprised when he stays close and, instead of sitting opposite you, he sits to your right, knees bumping yours softly under the table.

It’s not until you both sit, quiet and fiddling with your beers while sharing nervous smiles, that you remember something you had been meaning to ask all day.

“Oh. How did Mena’s appointment go?” You ask immediately, recalling his slight worry the day before over her slightly warmer than normal forehead and uncharacteristic crankiness. Your stomach plummets when he shoots you a startled look.

Oh no… have you blown it? Were you not meant to ask about kids on the first date or something? What were the rules for this kind of thing? You’d never dated someone with a baby, you had no idea what was okay to ask and what wasn’t. You guys had literally only just sat down, and here you were, ruining it already. That’s got to be the quickest end to a date, well… ever.

Panic creases your features and you frown in worry, “Sorry, should I – should I not have said anything? I’m sorry, I’ve never –”

“No, no – you’re fine! I just… I didn’t expect you to remember.” And then he smiles. Blindingly. The dread crushing your chest quickly morphs into something sweeter, something that has your heart quickening. “She’s okay – she’s getting her molars. Thank you for asking.”

You smile, turning bashful under the pure admiration shining in his eyes, and shrug lightly.

“It’s alright. I was worried for you.” You’re quiet when you admit it, unsure if that’s something you should be upfront about with only knowing him for such a short period, but he seems to take it in stride, smiling fondly at you and reaching a hand to cover yours softly. The immediate heat from his skin encompasses yours, shooting wave after wave of electric tingles up your arm and straight to your chest.

If your pulse was racing before, it’s downright wild now.

He flushes when your fingers part ever so slightly, letting his nestle in between yours, and then you’re smiling at each other, laughing quietly as the awkwardness all but evaporates.

You talk about everything. Growing up, moving around, Frankie’s time in the military being a pilot. You have so many questions, but pick up on the wave of tension that rolls through him at the mention of flying. For a short moment, you wonder why he didn’t want to talk about such an achievement – being a pilot was incredible, but not wanting to ruin the easy-going atmosphere that had fallen over you both, you leave the topic of flying instantly, and switch for talking about Mena, thankful to see the light return immediately to his eyes as he gushes about his little girl.

“Can I ask a question?” You ask sometime later in the evening, now comfortably closer to Frankie as your legs tangle under the table.

He hums, sipping on his third beer and nodding, “Of course.”

You watch your fingers play with his on the table, before grinning up at him slyly, “Why ‘Catfish’?”

He groans, throwing his head back with a chuckle, and wipes a hand across his face.

“My whiskers.” He finally admits with a playfully defeated sigh. When you frown in confusion, his grin widens, and he scratches his fingers along his jaw and through the patch of facial hair. “The guys used to give me shit because I can’t grow much more than this.” He gestures to his face, rolling his eyes. “Used to say I had whiskers – like a catfish, apparently.” He chuckles, shrugging light heartedly. “It just seemed to stick after a while.”

You’re laughing, and it keeps the smile planted firmly on his face. What a sound.

“Well, it’s an interesting nickname, but I think I prefer Frankie.”

He softens, unable to resist melting closer to you, and nods, “Me too.”

He likes the way you say it… sweetly, softly. He’s desperate to hear it fall from your lips more, in all sorts of ways.

Disappointment floods you both when you notice the late hour, Frankie explaining dejectedly that he should probably go and relieve his babysitter before said babysitter gets too comfortable with his refrigerator and the beer in there. You can hear the fondness in his voice when he tells you about his sitter for the evening, Mena’s tío – another close friend of Benny’s apparently – as you leave the bar, his hand automatically falling to tangle with yours.

“I’m this way,” you point a thumb over your shoulder, fully expecting to say your goodbyes outside the brightly lit bar, but frowning in slight confusion when he merely nods and starts to walk the way to your car.

“Oh – are you parked over here, too?”

He shakes his head, pointing to the complete opposite direction. “No, I’m over there. I don’t want you to walk to your car alone.”

Your insides turn to jelly, smiling to yourself as you grip his hand a little tighter. Thoughtful. He returns your smile, but hates that you seem so surprised by the notion of being walked to your car in the dark. What kind of losers had you dated previously that either didn’t walk you safely to your car?

“Thank you for tonight, Frankie.”

He grins, thumb rubbing soft circles over your knuckles. “Thank you – I had a great time.”

“Next time, it’s my treat.” You say, hoping you weren’t thinking too much of something that wasn’t there. Would he even want a second date? Was he just being polite saying he had a good time? Is that what people said before never calling them again?

Unbeknownst to you, Frankie was having a hard time reigning in the enthusiastic excitement that had flooded through him the second you had spoken. You wanted another date? With him? He had to mash his teeth together to stop the eager grin threatening to break his face completely in half. Thank God he hadn’t blown it. You were… God. You were fucking incredible. He owed Benny – big time.

“I can deal with that,” he eventually agrees, face warm and giddy at the prospect of taking you out again.

You turn and envelope him in a hug when you reach your car, breathing in one final lungful of whatever delicious aftershave he had used, and smile to yourself against his shirt when he folds his arms around you, a hand cupping the back of your head to keep you pressed tightly against him.

Pulling back to say one final goodbye, you’re struck by how close his face seems, eyes flicking across his face before meeting his dark ones.

Suddenly trapped in a gaze that had a fire licking up your spine, your breath goes in a stuttered exhale. Rough fingertips trace your jaw, and then you’re holding your breath entirely as he leans in closer. Anticipation kicks in, heart thumping through your chest as he closes the distance much slower than you would like, and you fight away the wave of impatience that screams at you to just push forward and kiss him.

You don’t expect him to stop however, only a breath away from your lips, and you panic for a small second, wondering if you’re doing something wrong, but when he murmurs a quiet question, it takes all the strength in your legs to not fall to the fucking ground in a lump of melted goo.

“Can I kiss you?”

God yes. Please.

Unable to stop the shy smile that tugs at your lips, you try not to nod too eagerly and definitely fail miserably. You want this, more than what you’ve ever felt with anyone else. Frankie had you feeling like a giddy teenager with a huge crush and you were desperate to feel more of it, to see where it goes and what it could develop into.

At your nod of approval, he moves in the rest of the way, hand moving to cup the side of your neck below your ear, and he sighs lightly when your soft lips finally meet his. The kiss is tender, warm, and does nothing to soothe your raging pulse. He can’t hear your heartbeat, can he? God, can you hear his? He briefly worries, but when your lips move against his, his mind blanks.

His moustache tickles your lip, nose bumps gently with yours. Your hands find his chest, fingers gripping at the soft material, and for a moment it feels like you two are the only ones in existence, floating in a hazy whirl of space.

You take a minute to open your eyes when he eventually pulls away, and when you do, you find him gazing at you with a shy smile and a rosy flush across his cheeks. Lashes fluttering as you blink, you try to get a hold of your heart beating heavily against your ribs while your lips tingle from the aftershocks of his kiss.

Holy shit.

Before you can even think it through, his shirt tangles in your scrunched fist and you pull him back to you, replanting your lips against his with a desperate urgency he meets head on and returns eagerly. His hands, previously gentle, now grip at your waist, squeezing the flesh greedily as you let him walk you back into the side of your car. The metal is cold, even through your jacket, and you arch into him, moaning softly when his tongue traces your lip.

Your knees buckle when his tongue tangles with yours, and he presses you harder into the car to stop you dropping.

“Holy shit.” He breathes huskily after separating, lips widening into a grin when he sees you mirroring his breathlessness. You giggle softly, the fire roaring in your stomach turning into an affectionate warmth that floods your system when he brushes his nose along yours tenderly. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Stop.” Your smile turns shy, teeth digging into your lips as he chuckles again, dark eyes shining. He watches you wrangle your breathing into something semi normal, glad he wasn’t the only one that got swept up and carried away with the moment.

He traces your cheek, planting one more, less hungry and more affectionate, kiss to your lips.

“Goodnight, mystery girl.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

He backs away, face split as he smiles, eyes admiring you before he turns and starts to meander away to wherever he was parked, turning to look at you over his shoulder every few steps. You climb into your car, grinning at the final wave he sends you before disappearing around the corner.

Finally alone in your car, you let out the disbelieving chuckle you’ve been keeping in all night, face feeling hot as the aftereffects of such a great date rests pleasantly in your stomach, mind running through every little moment of the night. Starting your car, you start the drive home, unable to stop touching your lips every so often, insides clenching at the memory of his lips moving against yours.

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie @layniapetrovnaaa @alberta-sunrise @goldielocks2004 @betterthanbucky @linkpk88 @afootnoteofhappiness @livilottie

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller x reader

554 notes · View notes

kashimos-hajime · 3 years

Text

twenty questions (7/8) | r.b.

summary: No, he refuses to lose someone else. Not again, not you. Never fucking you. Or, after four years, Reiner meets you once more.

WARNINGS: angst, just conversation, a bit of violence, mentions of trauma, children ummmmm yeee, jean also appears <3 true king pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 8.3k

a/n: reiner returns!! welcome to the penultimate chapter and thank you for being on this journey with me :) again, song is not mine! it’s the wellerman sea shanty hehe

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Morning streams through the curtains.

You part the billowy white fabric, pushing open the window breathing in the late morning air. As always, it’s warm and ripe with the aroma of the fresh bread from the bakery you live above, and as you lean on the windowsill, you hear the door below you chiming with new patrons. You smile to yourself, resting your chin on your hand.

Even still, you can’t help but admire how beautiful it is, especially in the streets here, far away from a industrial zone. The Liberio interment zone is small, yes, but it’s no less beautiful. The architecture of brick and glass all hold an austere beauty, and when the sunset is upon you, the shadows they cast and the warmth that embraces the stone is something you’ve never quite seen before. There’s a church, and you’ve sat inside day a few days before, watching the light stream through the stained glass in amazement.

A knock at the door takes you from your thoughts and you let out a sharp noise of surprise, gaze ripping away from the busy streets. A tremor shoots through you and you swallow harshly, waiting in bated breath.

“The shop’s busy as bees, today!” your landlord admonishes on the other side. You let out a relieved sigh, relaxing a bit. “If you want, I can still save you a loaf!”

“No, thank you!” you shout over your shoulder, reaching to close the window and get ready for the day. Sliding a warm vest onto your shoulders, you adjust the hat on your head and grab your bag from the counter, your bare fingers a bit cold and numb.

You burn at the thought of Reiner. You don’t want to see him, even if you live in the same city now, but all the same, it’s hard to avoid him. After all, it’ll only be so long before you’re forced to confront your past, push yourself into his way because how long, really, can you stay away from him? As you slide the white armband onto your bicep, your heart tightens. You’ve seen the man he’s grown into—handsome, tired, lonely. That only reflects in you.

Pulling your arms through your jacket, you stare at the woodgrain beneath your feet emptily.

Why am I even here?

Coming to Marley, of all places. Some days, you can’t wrap your head around it, before you’re reminded of the reason. It all has a purpose. You just have to keep going—keep moving forward.

Continuing through your loft, you shove your feet into boots and head out for the day. The festival’s tonight—you have lots to do before then.

Night slips in.

Reiner frowns when he realizes he’s walking back to the stage. He’s been trailing after the sound for a good half-hour, but considering they stay relatively nearby his final destination, he’s never felt the urge to detract.

He still can’t place the tune that’s been hummed, whistled, sang gently and leading him on, and as the sky darkens and the crowd noise grows louder, he realizes that his trail is slowly growing colder and colder.

“Hey, Reiner!” His head swivels to find Gabi waving at him and he meanders over, frowning a bit. “Where’d you go? The others said you wandered off.”

“I took a walk to clear my head,” he says dismissively, ignoring her frown deepening. “I see you’ve recovered from your food coma.” Immediately, Gabi’s frown turns into a pout and she rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine.” He snorts, turning to survey the area. The others are milling about. Zeke and Colt are talking by the bench, and Pieck and Porco are off together, as usual. They’re not half as inconspicuous as they think they are. Finding Udo and Zofia, his brow wrinkles when he can’t catch sight of a certain blond boy.

“Where’s Falco?”

“He ran off earlier, saying he saw someone he knew,” Gabi says, waving it away. “He’s always being so weird. Who else could he know besides us?”

“What, are you jealous?” he teases, ruffling Gabi’s hair and she lets out a squawk, smacking at his hand. Chuckling gently, he surveys the area again as they walk towards their seats. Zeke and Colt give him a nod in greeting, one he returns.

“Why would I be jealous?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” he replies distantly. His eyes keep searching, a ticklish feeling at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t know if he’s imagining it or if he can really hear that tune still at the edge of his hearing, nagging for his attention. Sighing, he crosses his arms over his chest. “What Falco does during his free time isn’t on your need-to-know basis, Gabi.”

“I know. I’m just saying—he doesn’t even have any friends besides us,” she says pointedly just as someone calls his name.

“Mister Braun!” Falco skids to a stop in front of him, his forehead gleaming with sweat, even in the cooler night air. Panting, he leans forward on his knees, meeting Reiner’s eyes, and Gabi tilts her head, confused and agitated and betraying her previous aloof words.

“Where the hell did you go?”

Ignoring her, Falco continues to try and catch his breath, barely punching out, “Can you come with me?” before looking down at the floor again, his shoulders rising and falling so quickly Reiner almost feels bad for him.

He frowns. “Right now?”

“You’ll be fine,” Zeke assures. The two look at the older man who glances at his watch. “It shouldn’t start for a few more minutes.”

Reiner debates it for a moment. Then again, it’s not like he’s the number one fan of this show. His presence is for appearance’s sake at this point, and if Falco insists, then it must be something important. Sighing, he nods and Falco takes off again. Telling Gabi to explain his absence to his mom should he not return in time, he walks after the sprinting boy, his mind a whirlwind on the possibilites of why he’s in such a hurry.

Falco stops past a blue curtain that’s near a residential building and points at the arch, smiling. His entire face is flushed and Reiner cocks an eyebrow, approaching closer before hearing a soft voice singing. It only grows as he passes by the blue partition, and his heart picks up as his eyes widen.

“…The Captain's mind was not on greed… But he belonged to the whaleman's creed… She took that ship in tow… Soon may the Wellerman come to bring us sugar and tea and rum. One day, when the tonguin' is done, we’ll take our leave and go…”

He knows that tune. The sailors sang it in the port city after Fort Slava. It’s one of their sea shanties—it’s rare to hear them anywhere except by the water, and when he reaches Falco, searching for that voice, his eyes fix on a figure leaning against the archway underneath the building.

The woman in purple.

Falco runs up to her. A hand is on her bicep when she shifts to look at the boy, and Reiner’s throat swells as his legs move on their own accord. Time seems to slow as Falco turns around, mouth open in words that go in through one ear, and out the other.

The woman says something, and Falco twists back, frowning a bit, but she only nods encouragingly, and off he goes, running on ahead, down to the end of the pathway out of Reiner’s sight.

A strangled noise leaves his mouth as the blond slips from his view.

The woman in purple’s head snaps up at the sound, and Reiner’s entire body locks when he finally recognizes the face that searches his impassively. The white armband is covered still by her fingers, but when she pushes off the wall, it’s almost as if she bewitches him to come even closer.

And he does, his hand lifting up to reach for her. Reach for what has to be a ghost. No…

No, it can’t be. No. No, I’m seeing things, I am, I—

You lift your hand off your armband, and when his fingers meet your palm, he feels your warmth, the way your skin slides against his as he interlaces their fingers, and he chokes, entire body burning from the inside out as you fold your fingers over his palm, yank him into the shadow with enough force to unbalance him. You side-step and fling his hand off, let him crash to his hands and knees. Pain shoots up his joints and his eyes widen when he realizes his skin has scraped off on the stone.

“Hello, Reiner,” you murmur. He draws himself up, and there’s a strange lifelessness as he looks up to a face barely illuminated by light. You unbutton your jacket and crouch before him, arms on your knees. His skin steams and stitches itself back together and he swallows through a dry throat as your eyes flutter to the white wisps. There’s a raw damage lingering on your face, haunting like ghosts that should be long dead, before you blink.

Your long coat brushing the floor covers black armour, harnesses criss-crossing your legs and body. Your expression is severe, lips pressed in an impassive line, dark shadows under your eyes. The armband around your bicep is slathered in dark red, staining the symbol.

So that’s what you were hiding from Falco.

Reiner half-wonders who’s blood it is. If it’s the owner of the clothes you wear, or someone else’s entirely.

You lift your head, staring at Reiner properly for the first time in years. Clenching your jaw, you only look. You do not speak, you do not move. It’s terrifying. It reminds Reiner eerily of Captain Levi, with the same chillingly placidity, and he remembers how you used to smile so wide you’d complain your cheeks ached, how you would lean against him, clutching your gut ‘cause he made you laugh, and he had never heard a sound so perfect—

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “What are you doing here? Are you insane?”

You barely move. Only tilt your head mockingly. “Probably.”

Four years has changed you into a taller, leaner, stronger soldier—and he can only soak that in. You’re…

His breath catches in his throat.

You’re beautiful.

But you’re crouching right in front of him, and you’re in danger. If Marleyans were to approach now, he’s not sure if he could lie his way out and that blood. How can he explain the blood on your sleeve?

You’d be left for dead, hanged for the crows.

The image flashes through his mind like cold dread, a trickling drip of an icicle hanging in his mind and freezing his spine.

No, he refuses to lose someone else. Not again, not you. Never fucking you.

It is why he demands again through a hissed breath,“What are you doing here?” Why he stands up quick enough that their heads nearly collide, and you straighten up as well, smoothly running your hands over your coat.

You only look at him deftly as if he is as inconsequential to you as a roach. You don’t even twitch as his hand reaches forward, fighting through the searing ache in his chest. “You need to leave. You shouldn’t be here. I can smuggle you back to the port and take you home, I—.”

Your stare paralyzes him and his hand falters. “I don’t take orders from you. You are not my commanding officer, and I do not need you to tell me what I need.” Your fingers dig into the bloody armband at your bicep and Reiner’s eyes widen as you tear it off, planting it on his chest hard enough his lungs spasm and he lets out a sharp breath. Your fingers spread out over his chest, you step closer. “I don’t need you to save me. Not from Marley. Not from myself. And not from you.”

His hand comes to cover yours, but you slip out before he can touch you, and he’s left with an armband in his palm. Clutching it in a tight fist, he stares down at it for a moment before shoving it in his pocket and turning around.

Your name comes out of him without even thinking as you walk past him, and it must still hold something because you pause, head turning slightly to look at him. “I want to explain myself,” he chokes out, and the corner of your mouth curls into a hollow smile. “Please.”

“Follow me, Reiner,” you order softly, and without question, he falls half a step behind you, eyes trained on the ground. His head is swimming at your presence, and his knees are gummy, stomach convulsing as he tries to come up with what to say. Or maybe, what to say first. He’s had four years to come up with a proper way to say it, and he reaches for his breast pocket, where the letters he’s folded away rest, with shaking hands.

“Please…”

“I don’t know what you think begging will get you.” Something stony falls upon your face. “I’ve had four years to get over the fact that you used me. Now, I think I just don’t care anymore. I’m sure you have your reasons, but I don’t know if it’ll be the truth. You’ve had no problem lying to me before in the past.”

“That’s not true.” He doesn’t know to which part of what you said he means. The last part, every part. “I never lied about how I felt about you.”

“Right. Like I wasn’t just some pawn on your chessboard. Some lonely girl you could use to entertain yourself.” Your pace doesn’t slow, but your tone is laced with anguish you try so hard to cover. “At least Bertholdt had the courage to look me in the face and tell me he was going to kill me.” You stop by a crate, labelled as supplies for the play. Maybe they contain masks, or costumes, and Reiner stops, his shoes skidding against the stone as you reach into your coat.

Pulling out a knife, you wedge it into the crate and pry the lid off and Reiner’s entire body numbs when ODM gear gleams in the straw. It looks refashioned, sleeker, and in two parts, and he catches your hand reaching for the harness.

Weapons, here.

You aren’t stupid enough to take on Marley on your own, which can only mean—

Shit, shit, shit.

Dread trickles through his body.

“What are you two doing—Oh, Vice Chief Braun!” You slam the lid shut and press your left arm flush against Reiner’s body, covering it up as someone on their right approaches. Your hand tightens around the knife still wedged between the lid, and Reiner sets a hand on your shoulder, dragging you so he can cover you up better and as a warning.

Don’t do it. You’re stiff against him despite the easy expression on your face, and he sets a harsh glare on the intruder. Let go of that blade. Your entire body is rigid with a hot energy he doesn’t recognize as your fingers only tighten around the hilt. Don’t do it—

“Sorry to interrupt, but those are one of the crates we need for the play. It contains some costumes—“

The performer looks stricken as you flash him an easy smile and Reiner’s blood freezes when the stranger seems to blush, voice fading.

“I actually work with Lord Tybur,” you explain easily with a tiny laugh, betraying the strength in your fist. “He wants to inspect it briefly before I return it. I think it contains the Helos costume? Gotta make sure every detail’s to his liking!” Your tone, innocent and cheery, floats through the distant sound of the crowd, and Reiner only stares at the performer who seems to shrink in his skin. Your fingers twitch when he hesitates.

“Oh, of course.” He scratches the back of his head, and you give him a gracious nod before he’s walking away.

You watch him go, and Reiner feels the way the air shifts when your smile fades away as soon as it came. You step away from him, loosening the knife from the crate. His hands burn as he reaches for your shoulder again, but you jerk back.

“You know,” you begin quietly, staring at the lid, “all this time, I thought I had actually found people again, you know. I thought you actually cared about me, but really, I realized all you’ve ever done is lie. Even after everything. Even after Marco died, and I told you how I felt about you, you just kept lying. Lying and painting yourself to be a knight in shining armour.”

“I tried—I tried to stop myself from caring about you,” he whispers raggedly, hands rolling into fists tight enough that his nails dig into his flesh, “but it happened anyway. That part of who I was was never a lie.”

“So you never saw me as someone you needed to protect? As this poor, lonely girl who loved you? Who fed your ego and—”

“Of course I wanted to protect you! I loved you, too!” he snaps and distantly, he recognizes this is the first time they’ve ever confessed that what they had… that it was somehow real and too good for him. It nearly makes him shatter. “How could I—“ He closes his eyes, teeth gritting as the flames inside him roar, consuming his heart. “How could I just stand back and watch you get hurt by the consequences of my actions? It’s because of me you were forced to leave the farm, leave that girl. Because of me you knew Marco and Mina and Thomas. You could have been so much happier if you never met any of us—I knew that—I just thought I could somehow—”

“Happier if I never met you,” you echo blankly before nodding to yourself. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds about right.” He flinches but you continue on, “In the end, it doesn’t matter, though. I’ve learned to not let the what ifs haunt me, because my time with you… it still means everything to me.” You shake your head. “That’s the truth. You dropped a building on me and broke my bones. Truth. You left me alone in those walls with Bertholdt dead and Annie comatose, and you did so knowing you are the last damn person I’ve got that I’d kill for. Truth.”

Reiner’s eyes widen as your words sink into his skin like a vicious poison.

So that’s it then. Bertholdt is dead and Annie… Annie’s still alive?

You don’t give him a moment’s breath to ask as you take a step forward. On reflex, he steps back, hands raising, and your eyes flash to his palms. One wrong move, and a Titan will overtake the square. He’s sure he can read the thought in your eyes, but when you look at him again, he only sees cold indifference.

“You nearly killed me, Reiner. So tell me…”

Metal flashes and a breath stalls in his throat as a cold knifepoint digs into the bump along his throat. It bobs when he swallows, lips parted, and you meet his eyes, every inch of agony he’s forced upon you glaring back at him reforged.

“Why shouldn’t I repay the favour?”

His breath stalls, and he looks down at your fingers, wrapped tight around the hilt, nearly shaking. He doesn’t know if it’s because you hold the weapon that tightly, or if you’re just as afraid as he is.

Either way, it doesn’t matter.

“Do it, then,” he whispers. “I’m the reason this all happened.”

Your eyes, wide, search his beseechingly and his heart crumbles to dust. Even after all this time, you still hesitate. Why? Because you think he’ll come back? That he’s… redeemable somehow?

Reiner envies that—he wants to believe that there is still good. But there isn’t. He knows it.

“I have a thousand questions,” you murmur achingly, as if the words are wrenched from your throat. “Over the years, I’ve tried to come up with some incomprehensible list. I couldn’t decide which was the one I wanted answered the most, but I thought why did it matter? After all, it wasn’t like I’d ever see you again. But here I am, now.”

As you lower the knife, the tip of the blade scratches his skin, light enough only to leave a white trail until it falls away, just like when he held you at blade-point four years ago, the tip of a sword digging into your sternum.

How poetic that he finds himself here, his life in your hands. This is your retribution, he supposes, and your mercy, fighting for control of your arm, but you sheathe your knife again with a sharp, smooth thrust at your hip. There’s a soft scrape before you set your hands atop the lid, sighing softly.

A terrifying glint lives in your eyes as you smile at him faintly, and hoist the crate into your arms.

“So, Reiner.” You tilt your head, gesturing for him to follow you down the pathway to a set of stairs that must lead to a deeper cellar. Somewhere he can’t transform in. Smart. You always were, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’d never hurt you again, especially when he’s already done so much to prove that his words are empty. Yet, nothing is more important than protecting you, and Gabi, and Falco, but— “What do you say to a game of twenty questions?”

You flip a page. The day’s labour has you sweating into your harness, but all you want to do is just finish this damn chapter. Pulling carts out of mud like a damn mule wasn’t fun, but at least it had you busy. But, God, did you just want to relax for an eternity now.

Even after four years, you’d think your body would grow accustom, but every day, something new tests you.

“Hello?” a voice by your door calls and you look up from your book, smiling automatically at the kid peering into your room. He’s one of the younger orphans who didn’t come from the immediate wreckage of the fall of Trost but rather just a few months ago, you had found him in the woods, walking away from one of the smaller settlements.

You don’t ask, let him come and tell you more, and although you know his name, you know it’s hard for him to talk about anything else.

What you do know is that he is one that still climbs into your bed when there’s a thunderstorm, and that he’s a sweet, yet studious child with a knack for trouble when the girls invite him to hang out with them.

That doesn’t mean he’s any less attached. He’s probably the one who clings to you the most, and you get up, closing your book. Setting it down on the nightstand, you crouch in front of him and pat his head.

“Hi,” he says again.

“What’s going on, Xavier?” His red hair is still damp. He must’ve just taken his bath and he shrinks under your hand, probably to protect the clean smell clinging to his skin and locks. Lifting your hand amusedly, you tap his nose. He breaks out into a gap smile.

He lost his tooth just three days ago, and you remember how proud he was, bursting into the fields during study period to show you as you untied the horses from the plow.

“There’s a man who wants to see you.”

“A man?” You frown, looking over his shoulder. Placing a heavy hand on his shoulder, you pull him into your room, out of the way of the door. “Did he say what his name was? Or if he was military?” The kids know the military insignias. Praying silently to yourself, you glance uneasily at your nightstand where a gun is hidden in the drawer. You could probably arm yourself in time. Xavier tugs at your ear. You look back at him, eyebrows creasing as you glance over his shoulder.

“He said his name was Jean and that you would know who he was. He’s waiting outside.”

“Jean?” you repeat sharply, standing. Xavier flinches, looking up at you, and you scoop him up before heading to the nightstand, yanking open the drawer and grabbing the gun. Arms worm around your neck, and you squeeze the child closer to yourself as you quietly slip out into the hallway, towards where the other kids’ room is.

“Girls, close the door and lock it,” you order quietly, as you walk into the . The two sisters—Alina and Anya who share the room—look up from whatever they’re doing, and Anya gets up from her bed, but you merely send her a warning look as you “Everything’s okay. Anya’s in charge until I get back.”

She nods, and you set Xavier down but he doesn’t let go of your neck, hugging you tight to him. Letting out a strangled sigh, you slowly pull him away, cupping his face. Your heart is slow, steady, and you take a measured breath as Alina glances out the window that is right over their desk.

“I’ll be okay. I want to make sure we’re safe.” His eyes flicker over your face and you nod reassuringly. “You know what to do. Listen to Anya, alright? Try to get some sleep.” The redheaded boy nods and you stroke his cheek with a thumb before he scampers towards Anya’s bed. You stand.

You leave the room, shut it behind you as Alina draws the curtains shut, and your mind is thrumming with ideas of who it could be.

Entering the kitchen, you head to the porch with a quick glance at the window. There’s a figure leaning against the fence, back to you, and your fingers around your gun tighten. Draped in dark fabric and ash-brown hair shining in the oil lamps hanging on the porch, you can’t make out a face as you step into the bracing night.

“What do you want?”

The figure jolts to his feet, turning around. Edges dulled by the night, you can barely make out his features until he steps into the light, and your finger pad taps the trigger when brown eyes meet yours. Heart lurching, everything rushes back to you and you manage to control the sharp inhale, tempering it into a slow and steady breath that swells up in your lungs.

“It’s been a while,” he comments idly, and you swallow through the hard knot in your throat. Eyes flicking to the gun in your hand, the small smile that had been curving his lips drops away. “You’re a hard person to track.”

“How’d you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy, but Captain Levi saw that some of us were getting desperate.”

Four years.

Four years since you’ve seen any of them except Captain Levi, who only visits to make sure you haven’t been raided by bandits and killed in the months between his check-ins.

In that time, seasons have changed, you’ve sprained your shoulder, it healed; you’ve been thrown off a horse, and gotten back up. You had a period where you would write letters every waking second you were left alone in your room, debating whether or not you should destroy them or send them just for the sake of feeling like you had someone again.

All those letters are still wedged in a box under your bed, so there’s that answer.

Jean stands at the bottom of your porch and you nod, gesturing for him to come in. Your heart plummets as you do so. You don’t know why Jean even bothered.

He closes the door behind you, and you set the gun on the dining table before moving towards the stove, and you ask him if he wants any tea, gracious host that you are. He shrugs and you begin to boil some water. It’ll give you time to look him over as he sits down.

He’s grown the beginnings of a beard since you last saw him. And he’s taller. Way taller than you remember. He’s gotten more muscle, holds himself differently, he’s… still Jean, in all respects, but he’s…

Tired.

You’re sure that’s one word you’re looking for.

Migrating to the hearth, you wonder if he’s doing the same to you. Studying you like you’re a stranger.

You start a fire, feeding it freshly chopped firewood from the day before and stoking it before letting it feast.

You never liked doing that before. Swinging an axe down on wood, watching it split. Now, it’s the only time you get alone to your thoughts. You don’t have to focus on chopping wood. All you have to do is swing an axe until it’s nothing more than muscle memory. You can just… be.

Maybe it isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s why Reiner liked doing it.

You sigh, and grab the iron poker, keeping an eye on the stove. You don’t know if Jean wants to skip the small talk. You do, but mostly because you don’t like it when your old life comes into your new one. You can make yourself believe you can’t go back when no one’s here to remind you, and that the guilt won’t gnaw you until you’re only bones.

Absently, you remember Bertholdt used to like small talk—Jean seems less so.

“I have news. I don’t know if you want to hear it, but you’re still military.”

“Not labelled a deserter, yet?” you inquire dryly. Everything is moving so slowly around you, yet so quickly. It’s a terrible sensation. “I feel honoured.”

“Let’s cut the shit, alright. What the hell are you doing here?”

“No idea.”

“You disappeared! No one had seen you in weeks—we thought you were dead until the captain came back with strict orders not to look for you, but do you know how ominous that sounds?” Something bites at your gut as you stare into the flames, and Jean shoots to his feet, chair scraping against the wooden floor. “You were our friend!”

His words sink into your shoulders, but you only blink, staring into the growing hearth.

“Don’t you care? You left!”

“I don’t regret it. It’s not like I’m begging to become a Scout again,” you murmur, looking over your shoulder at him. A sort of tiredness pulls at your eyes, and you stand up again, walking around the table. “I don’t know what you want from me, Jean. You came to me first.”

“I want you to care. I want you to come back and fight. Aren’t you remotely interested in what’s going on?”

“I know we have a train, now.” The pot begins to boil and you move towards it, taking out a tin and small metal spoon. “Historia is doing well as queen. At least, that’s what people are saying. She’s expecting. If you ever see her, tell her I’m happy for her.” Scooping leaves into the teapot, you pour the boiling water into the porcelain and let it steep.

Turning back around, your eyebrows rise when you see Jean has walked around the table. There’s not even a metre between them as he tosses something at you. Catching it, you realize it’s a rolled up newspaper and your heart drops. At his nod, you pry it open and read the contents, fingertips brushing over two rectangular slips of paper within stating a time and terminal.

“What is this?”

“Eren’s gone to Marley by himself. Probably to do something stupid. I have two tickets to go and rescue his scrawny ass.”

“And?” Dread knots at your stomach as Jean closes his eyes, exhaling softly. Pleading, then: “Jean, don’t.”

“You’re the least compromised out of all of us. None of the volunteers would recognize you or would have been able to relay information about you if they have allies back in Marley, and despite everything, I still trust you. Which is more than I can say for Yelena and the others.” You snap the paper shut and toss it onto the table. Shaking your head to yourself, you walk away from him, but Jean only grabs your arm. “You still have a duty to our nation.”

“Don’t try to plead to my sense of national pride,” you shoot back coolly. “I have other responsibilities.”

“What, like tending to wheat?”

“Everyone wants to kill us, so yes, tending to wheat.”

“If we don’t find Eren, they will kill us. He’s our one chance of getting out of this mess alive. As crazy as he is, he’s our one ticket to freedom and we need to find him.”

Turning around to face him, you pull your arm free of his grasp. The lantern hanging is glaringly bright, and something knots in your throat at Jean’s somber expression.

“I fought for our freedom and you know what I realized? There will always be more people out there who want to take that away from us.” You wish you could sound passionate, but you just sound rough and tired. The bite tastes different. “First, it was Titans, then, it was the people we called our friends. Do you think that we’ll ever be free? That we’ll be able to live without a sword above our necks. Levi told me we’re devils in everyone else’s eyes. What’s it matter?”

“Because we aren’t what they say we are. If you lay down and show your belly, why did you become a soldier in the first place?” You jerk back and Jean leans against the table, crossing his arms. “I thought you fought for a dream. Something. Anything.”

“I thought I did, too. I’m just…” A hissing breath, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, turning away. Images of the lake back from their cadet years flash in your head. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

“Tired?” he repeats icily. “You think the rest of us aren’t tired? We all haven’t had the luxury to sit down on a farm and escape all our responsibilities.”

Head snapping up, your eyes find cold brown chips staring back. Bitterly, you grit out, “Excuse me?”

“Do you think there’s a day that goes by where I think about Marco and how I wasn’t there for him? We all lost someone. You’re not the only person who’s had to go through it. We’re all guilty of something, but at least, I didn’t give up! At least, some of us decided to do something about it!”

“Shut up!” A hand flies through the air but he catches your wrist and twists, pinning you down to the table. Another hand slams your other hand into the wood and you grunt as Jean wedges himself between your legs to stop you from kicking him. Eyes burning, you stare up into the face of your friend and in that moment, the sorrow overflowing spills into your chest as if you are a well and he is the flood.

He sinks, elbows clacking against the table as he bows his head. His breath is rushed, cool against your face, and you search his features before uttering out a quiet, “Why did you really come here, Jean?”

His eyes widening, his hands loosen. You try to suck your tears back in, but your eyes are burning so intensely you have to let them fall anyway just as there’s a sharp gasp. Jean looks up before he jerks back as if you’ve really slapped him. Sitting up, you twist to look at the doorframe, and your heart drops into your gut when you see a redheaded boy, eyes shining with tears.

“What are you doing?” he cries, and you immediately launch yourself off the table, crossing the distance towards him as Anya appears over his shoulder, helpless. The brunette girl’s guilt punches through you and you lift Xavier up into your arms, hugging him tight before wrapping another arm around the girl and poking your head into the hall.

Alina’s figure is a mere shadow at the end of the hall, and you sigh, gesturing for her to come. Taking off at a sprint, she charges down the hall and you bury your nose in Anya’s hair just as another body slams into you, latching onto your waist. You close your eyes as Xavier tries to snuggle even deeper into your neck.

“I’m okay,” you keep repeating. “Just a heat of the moment thing. I promise, he’s not here to hurt us. I promise.”

“Are you okay?” Anya murmurs, and you look down. The eldest girl’s pulled her head back to look at you. Her eyes are narrowed, perceptive as always, and her lips are upturned into a faint scowl. You smile faintly, running a hand over her head.

“I will be. Why don’t you take them back to your room?” you advise, and her eyes wander from you to Jean again. Catching it, you brush your thumb along her temple soothingly. “Go.” Reluctantly, she lets go of you and turns to Alina who still latches onto you like a parasite, but you rest a palm atop her head. “Alina.”

A sniff, and then she steps back, rubbing at her face. Her older sister takes her shoulders, easing her away and you crouch down as Xavier silently grabs onto your shirt tighter in his tiny fists.

“Xavier,” you soothe. “I’ll be back in just a moment, okay?” You tilt your head. “I promise.” Wiping at his tears, you wait for him to let go of your shirt on his own accord, and when he does, you brush his hair back from his brow and plant a kiss on his forehead. Anya calls his name softly down the hall, and he lingers for a moment more before walking away, head still over his shoulder so he can watch.

You stay crouched until he’s gone and then you let out a soft exhale, head dropping, eyes closing.

“We need you more than you probably need us,” Jean acknowledges quietly, and your eyes open again to look at him. He’s straightened himself up, watching you with softer eyes. He visibly swallows, and you wonder if it’s pity or jealousy in his eyes. “But, we’re outnumbered in trusted senior officers in the Survey Corps. You’re one of them.”

Quietly: “I shouldn’t be.”

He falters for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose not.” He grabs the newspaper again. “But somehow, you are. If Captain Levi trusts you, then so do I. Bertholdt is dead. Annie’s a frozen log in a basement somewhere, and Reiner’s still alive. So are you.” He extends the paper to you. “This is what guilt got us. So what are you going to do about it?”

“Then, how about we go back to my hometown? There’s water nearby. We can go in the afternoons, eat all this food you’ve never had before.”

You haven’t seen a lake in who knows how long. Not since your cadet years, it feels like. Your heart yearns for the blue expanses, to plunge into the cold depths and gasp at how cold it is. You thought you’d given that up, but just there mere thought of it sends your mind spiralling into the images you’ve dreamed of since you were a child.

“Regret begets regret—don’t have any when you go, and maybe you’ll live a life happier than most.”

You know you’ll never forgive yourself if you never take the chance to see him again. Heart peeling in your chest, you grab the newspaper from him.

“They call it the sea, don’t they?” you finally ask. Jean nods. “A lot of water and there’s… there’s animals in there.”

“Yeah. They live in this salty water and… they eat seafood a lot in Marley. I don’t know if you know.”

“Reiner might’ve mentioned it before,” you say. You look down at the newspaper in your tight fist and swallow. All at once, one door closes and another opens, and you look at Jean, the date and time of the ship already burned into your memory. “He said he thought I’d like it. I guess I’ll keep that in mind when we go.”

Jean’s eyes widen as you hand the paper back to him, your palm scalding as you shove the ticket into your pocket. He says your name softly, but you only hold your hand up, eyes fixed on the floor.

“I’ll meet you there, I promise.” You turn towards the shadows of the hall. In the silence of the night, you hear the hushed whispers of the children you’ve dedicated your life to and your heart disintegrates in your chest. “I just… I need some time to figure everything out.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.” Jean’s feet shift along the floor. You look over your shoulder for a moment to find his eyes on you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you reply. “Feel free to stay the night. It’s already late.” He nods, and you flash him the weakest smile.

Then, you walk down the hall to your children. You have a lot of explaining to do.

You stubbornly try to ignore the tears tracing down your face as you reach into the compartment on your pants containing the letters. Reaching for it, you pull it out and crack it open, wondering if it’s even possible to bring yourself to read it.

“It’s not your last question,” Reiner had noted warily as they stood at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah. I guess we have to put a rain check this time.” You had set the box down, looking at him. You couldn’t recall feeling so warm, so empty. So convinced that there was something wrong with how much you still felt for him. “One more question, then?”

A nod, almost hungry for it. “Please.”

“Did you really, really love me?”

The gentlest of sighs, his warm yellow eyes. He had reached out for you, then second guessed, and reached for his breast pocket instead, extending the tin to you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.”

The entire cabin is quiet as you stare at the ring nestled at the bottom, atop the stack of letters that are wrinkled and must’ve been refolded so many times it’s begun to permanently crease in multiple lines.

No one’s dared to speak since Sasha died and you look up at the others before back down at the ring again before pinching it between your fingers and lifting it to eye level. You’re not sure what it means to hold it, but you gently close the tin with your other hand, feeling it click shut, and slide it back into your pocket.

The band is silver, rather simple, but it’s pretty, too, in a refined sort of way. There aren’t any gems, but there are simple engravings, lines that curve the metal, causing ripples along the surface and, without thinking, you stretch out your left hand in front of you, trying to gauge which one it’ll fit the best.

Sombrely, you slide it down your ring finger, and let it sit there, lowering your hands and curling them into fists and raising your shoulder, hearing a bone crack.

You’re exhausted.

The ODM gear feels strange on your body. It’d been a crash course to get you familiarized with the updates, and you hook a thumb on the strap on your rib cage before glancing at the others. Connie sits with Mikasa and Armin, and Jean is at the back by himself, rubbing at his face hard enough that his skin is beginning to turn red.

You don’t know what to say.

What is there to say? Four years have left you strangely numb.

Jean’s lips pull back into a vicious snarl and his head snaps up to find you looking. Then, everything seems to soften, and he looks away sharply, almost as if to hide his tears.

So you don’t say a thing. Instead, you walk on to the back of the ship, past him, where the prisoners are being held, and you open the door without a noise, first noticing the blond boy. Falco. He looks up at your entrance, eyes wide, and you give him a slight smile as you close the door.

You wish you could hate children for the part they played in killing your friend, but in this moment, you just feel nothing. Not even sadness. You had seen what Marley’s done in the friends you’ve lost.

“Hello, Falco.”

“You lied to me,” he whispers. “You and Mister Kruger—Eren,” he corrects himself. “You used me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” you tell him, looking at the walls. It seems like a supply area, and you grab the bucket and rag that’s been left by whoever checked in on them last. There’s a few clean rags and you walk up to them, crouching before the blond first. He seems to flinch back and the brown-haired girl lunges at you.

You have no problem pushing her aside and pinning her down.

“Don’t touch him!” she yells. “You don’t get to touch him!”

“Calm down,” you tell her calmly. “I’m not going to hurt him, and you are in no position to be making demands at me after you killed my friend.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re a devil. So was she!” she spits as you slowly wet the rag and dab at the blood cracking underneath Falco’s nose. It’s clear whoever was here before only used the bucket and rag as a taunt. Probably telling them they could piss in here if they wanted. A coy coil of disgust wraps around your gut. “Don’t touch him. You’re tainted! You give all of us a bad name!”

Your nose wrinkles as the girl squirms under your hand and you let go of her. Cupping Falco’s face, you continue to wipe at his cheek. The water is cold. You hope it soothes what must be a flaring face.

“I don’t understand,” he murmurs dully. Exhausted eyes find yours. “Why?”

“I’m sorry. I have no idea why kids are suddenly soldiers in an adult’s war.” You reach to rinse the rag. Dipping it in water, you begin to wring it out when suddenly, there’s a sharp gasp, and you turn to look at the other child—Gabi. She stares at your hands, eyes wide enough a ring of white is around her irises and you frown. “What?”

“Where did you get that ring?” she asks, voice shaking, and you look down at your hands. “That’s… that’s Reiner’s ring. Where did you get it?” You don’t answer, simply stare at her for a moment, and her breath comes out quivering. “He doesn’t let anyone know he has it. It’s for someone special. That’s—he wouldn’t even tell me. He doesn’t know I saw him with it. He… he —it’s supposed to be for someone!”

“Gabi—“ Falco grabs her arms as you regard her softly, and you have just an idea of what’s going in her head as she points at you. “Gabi, calm down—“

“Why do you have it?” she demands ferociously. “It’s not yours! Give it back!” You drop the rag back into the water, and sit back, drawing your knees up to your chest and resting your arms atop of them lazily as tears begin to trace down the child’s face. “It didn’t even cost that much! You won’t be able to sell it to, you know! Give it!”

“Gabi!”

“You have no idea what that means to him!“

“Stop—“

“You spawn! You devil woman!”

“Are you done?” you ask her quietly, fingers twisting the ring and Gabi inhales raggedly as you look at her flatly. Her eyes widen even more if possible, and she allows Falco to pull her back. Her wet gasps fill the silence and you swallow, tilting your head at your hands. “If you really want to know, I don’t really have an idea why I’m wearing it.” You sigh, dropping your hands and letting your head fall forward. “As for how I got it, if you ever see Reiner again, why don’t you ask him?”

Falco’s eyes widen as you look up and finding him staring at you with a strange scrutiny, and your eyebrows furrow as he lets go of Gabi and straightens up from where he’s sitting.

“Mister Braun didn’t even hear what I said when he saw you,” he murmurs, brow furrowing. “Like he’d just seen a ghost. You and…” He struggles for words, voice unsteady. “Eren said you guys were all old friends. But… but, if he gave you the ring—“

“Shut up, Falco!” Gabi beseeches, grabbing his arm, but Falco only stares at you. “Are you even hearing what you’re saying? You’re accusing my cousin of treason! He wouldn’t!”

“He stayed with you for so long,” he continues, as if in a trance. “Even Eren wondered what was taking so long. He… called it a lover’s quarrel. You…”

“I think you two should get some rest,” you interrupt, pushing yourself to your feet and ignoring the smokey feeling clogging up your chest as tears slip down Gabi’s face and Falco’s face pales at your blatant dismissal. “It’s going to be a few hours until we land, roughly. You’ll want to get used to being somewhere warm before they transfer you to some sort of prison. It’ll be a lot colder there.”

Taking the bucket and the rag, you return it back to its spot before walking out the room and closing the door shut behind you.

You find the spot you once were standing at now occupied with Floch and his comrades, and then you turn your head to see Jean still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression burning the metal floor.

You amble over to him without a word and lean in beside him, sinking to the floor.

260 notes · View notes

fwkei · 3 years

Text

How can you be so warm in a place so cold?

Izana x reader (fluff-angst)

WC: 3.3k

CW/TW: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of abuse, mentions of drugs, mentions of blood.

AN: made this take place right before the battle between Toman and Tenjiku, No spoilers. Explanation at the end of the story just incase you dont understand

hey guys, thanks so much on the support/feedback on my last work. I appreciate it sm, and thank you for 5 followers 🥳 love yall fr. ANYWAYS, heres something i just made I hope you enjoy, and again i did not proof read this so I apologize for any mistakes, enjoy!

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“....Do you remember it?”

He felt his body go cold….cold like that one night..That one night when he met you.

The air felt sharp against the skin on your face. But this feeling comforted you in a way. Although it wasn't much, you looked forward to this part of your day, where you could just think and not worry for a couple of hours.

You fisted your hands inside your pockets to create some sort of friction and warmth. You nuzzled your chin and mouth under your thick zipped up jacket that was a little too big on you when the park you always come to came into view.

You looked down at your feet when suddenly you heard the squeak of a moving chain, you looked up. To see a boy sitting on one of the swings, slightly swaying back and forth.

Your eyes softened at the sadden look on his face, and so you sat on the swing right next to him, taking your hands out of your pocket to hold onto the cold chains. He looked down at his dangled feet, and you only looked out into the scenery, debating on what you should say to the young boy.

He was small but still a little bigger than you. His skin was tan and had light pale hair. He seemed upset, maybe even angry. You hadn't even noticed that your gaze completely turned to him. You saw his hands that were resting on his thighs, moving up to grip the chains of the swing as he looked over at you with his cat-like irises. His eyes, they captivated you. They were a color you had never seen before. A lavender. A really soft and beautiful lavender.

You two held eye contact for a good two minutes. When one of you suddenly decided to speak.

“What are you doing out here this late?” he asked in a slightly irritated tone still keeping eye contact with you

“I’m waiting for my mom to finish with work..” you said looking back out

“Then why don’t you just go home. You shouldn't be out here.” he said swaying a bit

“But..I’m always out here, and I don't consider that place a home.” you said swaying with him on your swing

You saw anger and frustration fill the boy's eyes. His eyebrows furrowed, and grip tightened on the chains as he looked at you with hate.

“Do you realize how spoiled you sound? You have a mom and a house. That you can go home to whenever you want. And you’re wanted! There's no reason for you to be out here and act like you’re miserable! Just go away!” he yelled at you

He expected you to cry, frown, get angry, give at least some sort of reaction, and it angered him that his words didn't bother you. Your eyes still softly looked into his. Eyes with a hint of pity. It angered him even more. Just as he was about to speak and yell again. He gritted his teeth and stopped himself when he saw you look down.

“That's not it..at all.” you said watching your feet dangle over the thin layer of snow

“Then what is it?” he asked jumping out of his swing and standing in front of yours

“Why do you want to know?” you asked looking up slightly at him making his breath hitch in confusion

“Because..” he said getting quiet and realizing his outburst was rude

“What is your name?” you asked, stepping out of your seat to stand in front of him face to face, him only a few centimeters taller than you.

“I..Izana..” he said finally getting a good and close look into your eyes

He felt his eyes soften. He felt pity. He felt bad. He now knew he was wrong about you, everything he assumed was completely wrong. Izana could see the hurt in your eyes, he could tell you were going through a lot, and you could tell the same with him. He backed away slightly once he saw you smile.

He felt his heartbeat stop for a moment seeing it. How could you smile right now? Why would you smile right now? After his hurtful words...After what you were going through at home..why?

“My name is Y/n. I’m 10.” you said holding out your hand to the boy with a shocked face

“10 too..” he said slowly, bringing his hand to grasp yours..

He felt his body warm up and mouth part. Your hand was warm, so warm and soft despite the cold air and chains that touched you. It confused him.

How can you be so warm in a place so cold, Y/n?

Izana thought to himself.

“Your hands are cold...here take my gloves...I don’t use them anyway. Do you come to this park a lot? I’ve never seen you here before..” you asked, reaching further into your pockets and taking out a pair of dark red knitted gloves and handing it to the boy in front of you. Looking into his eyes, waiting for a response.

“Thank..you...and you consider this a park? It’s just 2 swings under a streetlight..” he said softly taking the gloves from your hands gently

“Do you not? I thought it was..nice even though it’s not much, I come here every night.” you said

“You don’t get bored of it?” he asked

“It’s the best it’s ever gonna get for me.” you said tucking your hands into your sleeves

Izana’s mouth parted at your words. He knows you were going through something but what? Why was someone like you settling for something so...bad? Izana knew nothing about you except for the fact that you were overly nice. Overly nice to the point where it made him calm down.

“I can uh.. I can..take you to a better park! I know a place! Do you wanna come with me?” he asked bringing his arms to grasp you wrists tight making you surprised

Your eyes traced his face as a small smile grew on your face. Izana felt his face warm up at seeing you smile. It made him feel...good. Really good. It made him feel wanted. And he wanted to see you do it more often. He didn't even realize that because of your smile, a smile grew on his face as well. After a couple of seconds of looking into each others eyes, again...your eyes closed giving him a closed eyed smile as you said with a soft laugh-

“I do.”

Izana let out a scoff of excitement as his eyes traveled down to your hands. Letting go of your wrists and lowering one of his hands to hold your hand tight. He looked back into your eyes with a different look. A look where you finally saw light in his eyes, and it made them that much more beautiful.

“Okay. Don’t let go, just run with me.” he said as he started to walk and look back at you waiting for your reassurance

“Okay.” you smiled bringing your other hand to hold your hat as you two started to run against the cold wind

The cold wind hit your eyes, making you squint. Occasionally Izana would look back at you while running to make sure you were okay, and it really was one of the best sights of your life. Seeing his slightly flushed face from the cold wind looking back at you with a soft and small grin and messy bangs spread across his face. It made your eyes widen and your face relax. He is so pretty when he smiles. You wanted to see him smile more often, it made you feel loved.

The running turned to jogging, the jogging turned to fast walking, and that turned to slow steps. You two stood in front of the park, with your hands still intertwined. You pushed up your hat that was blocking your view slightly and looked up to a park. A park with 2 slides, 4 swings, monkey bars, rods, and all sorts of things. With bright and warm lights shining over it… There was grass instead of cement, colorful benches instead of dirt covered stools, and families with children instead of people with drugs. You felt the excitement grow all across your body. Your mouth opened as you let out a gasp of happiness. Your face flushed because of the overwhelming feeling. And Izana watched all of it. Didn’t blink once when looking at your happy face.

“Cmon! Let’s go and play!” you said gripping his hand tighter before letting go and running to the park

“Yeah!’ he said running after you with a big smile plastered across his face

Hour’s went by, but it only felt like a couple of minutes. You two let your minds run wild, pretending you lead a crew of pirates who had to fight against fish people, to running a spaceship that was battling against aliens, to pretending that the floor was some type of acid that could kill you making you two crawl around the apparatus like spiders till both of your minds and bodies grew tired.

You two had played so much to the point where the cold snowy air didn't even feel cold, but like an AC on a hot summer day. You sat on your legs under the apparatus, while Izana sat the same way, but was playing with the grass on the ground. You watched his fingers fiddle with the green strings. You wanted to ask something, but couldn't seem to put your thoughts into words.

“Izana-” you said looking at him, waiting for his eyes to meet yours

“Yes?” he said looking at you

“....Can we be friends?” you asked rubbing your hands waiting for his answer

His eyes widened..you wanted him. Not only did you want him, but you wanted to be friends with him, be beside him, be with him. It made his heart feel weird, almost fuzzy.

“Yeah! Let’s be friends.” he said smiling making you smile too

“What about you? Do you have a home?” you asked

“No..I uh..I don’t. I don't have a family.” he signed deciding to keep back his sob story

“Don’t worry, I get it. You can talk to me about it whenever we’re together again.” you said

“When will we be together again?” he asked tilting his head

“I don't know..but...I’ll always be at those swings, everyday. And when we get older..we can do other stuff in other places..like go to the beach..and bowling..you know?” you said smiling while counting things on your fingers

“Yeah okay..sounds fun..Y/n..I can’t wait till we get older!” he said smiling making you laugh a little bit

“Same!” you said

Both of your heads quickly turned when hearing an angry man scream, a scream you knew far too well.

“Damn it! You stupid little girl! Is this where you’ve been?! Huh?!” you both heard the male scream

“Who is that? Who is he talking to?” asked Izana keeping his eyes on the man as he walked closer and closer

“No..oh no..I’m late..” you said in a shaky voice

“What?” asked Izana

“Duck and hide. Izana please..” you whispered quickly gathering all of you stuff and crawling out from under the apparatus

Izana had never in his life seen such a terrified face. Your eyes were wide, and your hands were shaking...but not from the cold, but from pure fear. Usually Izana would protest at orders thrown so suddenly at him by people...but the way your voice and whole energy changed within a split second made Izana shut up and listen to you. He ducked under the piece of plastic, Hiding himself while still letting his eye poke out to see you.

“I’m sorry…” you said walking over to the man quickly looking down

“Look at me when you speak to me.” he said when suddenly you felt a harsh and sharp slap against your cheek causing your head to turn to the side. You brought your hand to your cheek, while turning back to look at the man. Izana’s mouth parted in shock and disgust. Just as he was about to run out, you spoke again.

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” you said

“Damn right it won’t happen again! You think I like it when your whore mother calls me late at night telling me how ‘our’ kid isn’t home yet?! A kid I never wanted but I have to worry about?! Jesus fucking Christ. Bad shit always has to happen to good guys huh? I just wanted a fuck but this is what I get. he said as you grind your teeth in anger

“I’m sorry.” you said again bowing

Izana’s heart was beating so hard..he could feel it right against his ear. The amount of guilt and pity he was feeling was unbearable, he wanted so desperately to just get up and just defend you, in any way he could, and so he tried to change his position to get ready to run out and help you. But as he did so, his foot hit the halo metal causing a quiet bang, but since the street was quiet it could be heard. Loud enough for the angry drunk man with a bottle of alcohol in his hand to hear. Izana stopped dead in his tracks, and your eyes widened in fear.

“Are you..Are you with someone?” he asked in an angry and deep voice as he started to walk towards the sound

“No! It’s just the rabbit I found! I was feeding it under the slide because that’s where the most full grass is! It probably just ran away.” you said spilling out lies on the spot with scared eyes desperately hoping he would believe you.

“Yeah yeah, I don't care about your little rabbit. Now c'mon start walking, I wanna buy a beer before taking you back.” he said, slightly pushing you, making you lose your balance slightly as your father walked in front of you.

You took a deep breath of relief, as you started to walk you looked back seeing Izana had crawled out slightly, just enough for you to see him, and for him to see you. You saw he had eyes filled with worry and fear, you didn't want him to worry, truly. Because the night you had just spent with him...made your day...actually the rest of your life. And so you gave a soft smile and waved before placing your hands back into your pockets and turning your head forward.

Izana could only watch you walk away in confusion, in anger, in sadness, in every emotion there was. He could understand that you two were different sides of the same coin. And it honestly hurt him. Hurt him so greatly to the point where he swore to himself that he would do anything he can to not just see you smile, but to keep you safe.

And there was no way on earth he could fail at that, no way he would let you sacrifice your body for his well being like you had just done, no way he would let himself...right?

“When we first met...Do you remember it?” you asked looking into his eyes that were now filled with tears

He felt his body go cold….cold like that one night..That one night when he met you.

He couldn't respond, and only nodded his head, as his thumb wiped the blood that spilled from the side of your lips

“Wasn’t it fun?” you asked smiling

“It was.” he responded feeling his heart ache at your smile

“It was the best day of my life.” you said feeling a lump in your throat

“We can talk about that day later, let’s go to the hospital right now, okay?” he said holding his hand over your bloody wounds

“I think this is it, Izana.” you said laughing a bit as he shook his head ‘no’ at your words

“Don’t talk like that, please don’t talk like that.” he said, holding back his sobs, making his words come out shaky.

“Do you remember what I asked you? About wanting to be friends?” you asked bringing your hand up to lift his chin

He didn’t respond with words, but the frown on his face, grew, letting you know he did. Of course he did. Izana would never forget a moment between you two.

“What I really wanted to...say back then was...that I liked you, but we were only so small, and as...I grew up with you, I realized it was more. Sound’s kinda cliche right? Was it the same with you?” you said in between pauses of pain.

“Y/n stop making this sound like a goodbye, I won’t let it be a goodbye, okay?!” he yelled out of frustration, but again, you showed no reaction, like before when he first lashed out on you. It made his eyes soften when realizing the poison you two were in, was just like years before. Just like when you first met.

At the park, with 2 swings, and 1 street light shining over it.

Suddenly, all the thoughts in his head were stopped when he felt your embrace. Your arms wrapped under his arms and around his upper stomach, and you cheek against his collarbone and neck. He was hesitant, his arms still hovering over yours, not hugging you back yet. But you didn't mind.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” said slightly nuzzling yourself into him, breathing in his scent which you loved so much.

“I-”

Izana felt his heart beat so slowly.. at the familiar words you were speaking. But they were different from before, this time, you didn’t talk about being in his future...like you did before. His arms were still refusing to hug you back. His mouth still refusing to accept and return your love.

“How do you think things would’ve been?

“Y/n..”

“Do you think we would've ended up together, and had a family? Like a type of family we never had?”

“Y/n please..”

The feeling in your throat became stronger. You frowned and bit your inner cheek to keep in your sobs

“How can you be so warm in a place so cold, Izana?”

You heard Izana’s breath hitch at your words. His head slowly and hesitantly rested on yours, as you felt hot tears coat your scalp. And his arm’s fell to his sides, still refusing the fact that this is a goodbye.

But why was he refusing? He could’ve easily grabbed you and ran to the hospital. But instead he didn’t. He couldn’t. Because he knew deep down that it was already too late. Your body was cold. So cold, it was unsettling. Because your body was never cold. You were always warm, you were home for Izana. Izana knew if he tried to make it to the hospital, it would make his final moments with you a waste.

So what was he doing? He doesn’t know himself...All he knew was that he wanted to be with you till the end, but a part of him couldn't accept that this was in fact...the end for you two.

“Please don’t leave.” he said in a shaky tone against your head

“I’m sorry.” you said feeling the hot tears that were congested in your eyes, finally fall out

“Don’t say that…” he said

“Izana?” you said fighting against your sobs

“Yes?” he said

“I love you. And I always have.” you said smiling as you felt your final breaths.

Izana felt your grip on him loosen, and just as it did, he brought his arms and wrapped them over your cold body.

You felt it, you felt his embrace, and you heard him scream that he loves you back, You heard and felt it all. But you couldn't let him know that you did. You couldn't even keep your smile as you took your final breaths. But you did feel the hot tears run across your cheek. And down to your neck, as he cried and screamed in regret.

HIs body, still so warm..so warm against something so cold.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Explanation SPOILER HERE FOR TENJIKU ARC: BASICALLY, Y/n died before the battle against Toman, it’s not in the ff(as to who killed y/n) because i wanted the reader to have some control, but in this ff I made it so that Y/ns death was another reason for Izana to wanna take down Toman and Mikey, so as i was making this i had the imagine that Kisaki would be to kill or have someone else kill Y/n to make Izana even more unstable and easier to manipulate, hence the whole fight thing so yeah lmao. Izana and Y/n thought of each other as home, and fell in love with the feeling of being with each other i guess? BUT in the end, Izana thinks he’s too late, and thinks that Y/n didnt hear/feel him, which just makes him even more frustrated and angry, so he feels guilty and ends up taking that out on others and taking loved ones from others too (hence being a motive for ordering for emma ot be killed) sorry if this is confusing

#tokyo revengers #mikey tokyo revengers #izana #izana kurokawa #izana x y/n #kakucho #tokyo revengers angst #angst #fluff #idk lol

109 notes · View notes

hxseok-honee · 3 years

Text

3005 || part 11

3005 [part 11] || "Perks of dating a Slytherin"

[no matter what you say and what you do // when i’m alone, i’d rather be with you]

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : mayhaps i,,, went a little crazy,,, writing this,,,

taglist [open] :

@deepseavibez @lele-bb @monamone @unadulteratedlyunique @bluefaeriefury @hooniepie @loveyoongles @lilacdreams-00 @ramyagovindraj @skyrro @diminieshoe @calling-dips-on-j-hope @yuusilverscar @butterflylion @dingzerenistall @miki-chi @army-moa75 @drpepperobsessed @cecedrake2217 @somelazysundays @xxxanimangxxx @cosmicdaylight @navybluewonderland @itismochirice @dreadity @secretlycrazyhummingbird @taeshuworld @lochness-butmakeitsexy @beeeb05 @preciouschimine @thetrueghostqueen @sonderkook @pb-n-juju @aviwasabi21

a/n : there were some blogs that tumblr wouldnt let me tag -- sorry about that!

_________________________________

“Jeez, it’s insane in here -- we’re packed like sardines!” Y/n trails into the Three Broomsticks after Jimin and Tae, barely managing to catch the Ravenclaw’s complaint over the noise of the crowd. She’s barely made it in the door of the pub, but she can already see that she might be stuck there a while. It’s full to capacity, a sea of colored scarves and matching hats -- early November has brought nothing but cloudy mornings and chilly nights, the lower levels of Hogwarts particularly affected by the evening drafts. She’s lucky that Hufflepuff is kept at a consistent level of cozy warmth, but she can tell Slytherins must deal with constant cold by the way that Hoseok and Yoongi, who hover in the doorway behind her, have only draped their deep green scarves over thin long-sleeve shirts.

From the front, Jimin complains, trying to no avail to push through the mass of students and find a free table or even call dibs on one that’s busy. And even from behind Tae, Y/n can see the Gryffindor is pouting, which is entirely endearing, but she doesn’t get the chance to point it out to him -- there’s a hand on her waist, gently guiding her to the side. Another hand wraps around her wrist, this one shockingly warm against her cold skin, and she turns to see Yoongi pulling her in silently toward him while Hoseok brushes past her on the other side. The smaller Slytherin pulls her in close enough that she has to cross her eyes to properly see him, but he’s not even looking at her. He’s gazing expectantly in Hoseok’s direction.

Following his eyes, she sees that something of a miracle is occurring -- the mass is parting for Hoseok, students bumping into each other as they rush to get out of his way. He says nothing, simply making his way through the crowd and beckoning them in after him. Tae stumbles after Jimin, and Y/n only follows when Yoongi quietly moves his hand to the small of her back and nudges her in their direction. Before she can get too far from him, she feels his lips press against the shell of her ear as he whispers to her.

“Perks of dating a Slytherin -- nice, huh?” Y/n’s heart jumps to her throat, and she lurches forward slightly, putting distance between them. She still hears as he snickers behind her, but she ignores it and follows after Tae.

As she goes, she sees that, ahead of her, Hoseok has reached a round booth, just big enough to fit the five of them. There’s a couple of Ravenclaws that get there at the same time he does, and when he turns to look at them, Y/n can see exactly why the crowd had parted for him. He’s got a look in his eye -- nothing compared to the look he’d given Remus in the forest all those weeks ago -- but it’s almost as if he knows he doesn’t need it. His face is blank and his eyes are empty, something entirely terrifying to someone unfamiliar with Hoseok. He looks like a true Slytherin, one that commands obedience with his mere presence.

One of the Ravenclaws takes one look at Hoseok and is immediately stepping back, pulling his companion along with him. Hoseok only nods gratefully to them, clearly showing that he hadn’t meant to be intimidating -- it’s just who he is. Then he turns and waves them forward, Jimin rushing in a bit fast and shooting his housemates an apologetic smile. He slips into the booth, Tae following close behind. They file in like that, Hoseok sliding in after Yoongi and letting his hand fall comfortably to his boyfriend’s thigh once he’s settled. Y/n sees the movement and notes in the back of her mind with surprise that Hoseok’s hand is much bigger than expected -- it covers almost all of Yoongi’s thigh.

“See something you like, Princess?” Hoseok leans in to whisper it, but, judging by the looks of disgust that cross Jimin and Tae’s faces, he hadn’t been quiet enough.

“And on that note, I’m gonna order us some food!” Jimin scoots out of the booth, making a beeline for the bar as Taehyung reaches dramatically after his best friend. He turns back, resigning himself to the strange dynamic of the trio before him. But Y/n only scoots in to cling to his arm, smiling up at him, and the Gryffindor relaxes.

“So, is there anywhere you guys need to go after lunch? Jimin and I want to stop at Honeydukes!” Hoseok nods along to Taehyung’s request, humming in consideration.

“I could really go for some jelly slugs…” Y/n and Tae stare at him in disbelief, unsure if he’s just messing with them. The idea that Jung Hoseok -- the guy that had just moved an entire crowd for them with no more than a look -- could enjoy something so… sugary… is beyond them. But apparently, it’s a topic of regular conversation in the 7th year Slytherin boys’ dorm.

“I told you, that shit’s bad for your teeth--”

“Says the one who sits in class chewing on sugar quills instead of using a real quill to take notes.” Hoseok cuts Yoongi off with finality, challenging him to continue, but the shorter boy only grimaces and mumbles under his breath about Jimin taking too long. Y/n and Taehyung look to each other for answers, only finding more confusion.

When Jimin does finally return -- somehow managing to balance 5 plates of food in his arms -- the group settles in to eat, chatting about various things until they finish their food. It’s nice, Y/n decides, to hang out with friends she doesn’t always find herself with. Although she’d become rather close with Jimin and Taehyung recently, she’d spent every Hogsmeade weekend with Jin and Namjoon until now, so this is all still relatively new to her.

It’s especially new to hang out so closely with Yoongi and Hoseok -- she admits that she’d definitely gotten comfortable with them since the day that Yoongi had claimed her bed as his own while she’d had a strangely deep heart to heart with Hoseok, but she still feels slightly tense around them. Their constant flirting has been more than disarming, but it flusters her most when they’re right in front of her. At least when they’re texting, she can hide in the comfort of her room, but here… she has nowhere to run if they decide to start teasing her.

As if to drag her out of her thoughts by proving her right, the warmth of a palm sliding across the expanse of her thigh startles her back to reality. She glances down quickly, taking in the fact that there is actually a hand on her leg, before following the arm up to its owner. Hoseok only eyes her with confusion, having reached across Yoongi to get her attention.

Turning quickly to Taehyung, she looks up at him with confused panic, as if to confirm that she’s not hallucinating. The Gryffindor’s already staring down at her leg, having seen the movement out of the corner of his eye. He meets her gaze with wide eyes before turning away, as if to tell her it’s none of his business what she gets up to with Hoseok in the middle of this pub. When she tries to lean in further for his attention, Tae only turns his whole body away from her, sipping at his drink and denying her silent plea for assistance with feigned ignorance.

He catches Jimin’s eye in doing so, and the Ravenclaw glances over quickly, his gaze catching on Hoseok’s ringed fingers resting on the inside seam of Y/n’s jeans. Immediately, Jimin’s choking on his food, turning away with reddening ears as he puts his napkin up to his mouth. Hoseok looks around, eyes wide with confusion at the reactions he’s getting. Yoongi only closes his eyes and nods, fully having expected this chain of commotion in the booth.

Y/n looks down at the hand in her lap once more, hating that the only thing coming to mind is that now she can definitely confirm that Hoseok’s hand is as large as she’d noted previously. She stares down at it, scandalized, only coming back to reality when Hoseok squeezes her thigh, drawing her attention back to him. He’s smiling, but it’s filled with bemusement.

“Princess, I’ve been talking to you for like five minutes -- where was your head?”

It was thinking about yo--

Y/n blinks, shaking her head both to answer Hoseok and to rid herself of the intrusive thought she’d just had. She looks to Yoongi quickly, terrified that he might somehow be sitting close enough to have heard the unexpected words that had crossed her mind. He’s examining her carefully out of the corner of his eye, but his face is void of emotion except for the hint of amusement in his gaze. When she makes eye contact with him, he leans in, holding her gaze and whispering to her in a low voice.

“He’s only trying to give you your potion for today -- are your thoughts wandering somewhere they shouldn’t be, babe?” Y/n leans away the closer Yoongi gets, deciding they’re both much too close for comfort. Pulling her leg gently from Hoseok’s grasp, she scoots in the booth until she’s flush with Taehyung, who continues to sip at his drink with vigor, as if he hadn’t just heard the entire exchange. She’s about to force the Gryffindor to acknowledge her existence and help her, but there’s another hand falling to her lap, this one different but warm all the same.

It’s Yoongi’s, and while he has his palm turned up toward her -- a vial filled with familiar contents sitting innocently there -- the contact is enough to have Taehyung elbowing Jimin urgently, decidedly finished with his lunch. The Ravenclaw scoots toward the edge of the booth, taking one last gulp of his butterbeer before gesturing vaguely at his coat pocket, where his phone sits untouched.

“Text from Namjoon -- bookstore -- gotta meet hi-- bye!” Wrapping his hand around Taehyung’s wrist, he pulls the boy with him out of the booth, and with that, the two of them disappear into the crowd and out the door. Y/n stares after them, panic seeping into every fiber of her being as she turns slowly to face the two Slytherins she’s been left alone with. Hoseok’s also staring at the spot their friends had disappeared into, but Yoongi only presses his hand further into Y/n’s lap, urging her to take the vial.

“Full moon’s tomorrow -- drink up, babe.”

“No, that has to be a fucking joke -- you’re lying to me--”

“I’m not lying! I hiked my ass up that fucking tree and sat there throwing sticks at this girl so she would stop hurting herself until 5 o’clock in the morning!” Y/n groans and hides behind her hands, laughing out of sheer humiliation while Hoseok retells the story of the night they’d met -- the night she’d almost killed him. Yoongi leans his head back against the booth and breathes out a laugh, unable to believe what he’s just heard. He turns to Y/n, reaching out and tugging on her wrists until her eyes appear from behind her hands.

“Thank you very much for not ripping my boyfriend to shreds before I could confess. I would have been pissed.” She pulls her wrist from Yoongi’s grasp, pushing at his shoulder with another groan. She notices out of the corner of her eye that Hoseok’s gesturing silently toward the bar, holding up three fingers before pointing at their table -- their third set of refills in the last two hours. The glint of the metal bands on his fingers catches her attention, and she swallows hard as she returns her gaze to Yoongi’s face. The look he’s giving her tells her he’s caught her staring, but he only smiles when she clears her throat and attempts to move on.

“I just think it’s ridiculous that -- for someone who claims to be obsessed with magizoology and all things magical creatures -- Hoseok didn’t think ahead before wandering out to the Forbidden Forest on a full moon night.” Hoseok cracks a smile, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at her jab before focusing in on the waiter that’s sliding three fresh butterbeers onto their table. He slips the man a tip with a quick thanks, man, before pushing two of the drinks over to Y/n and Yoongi. There’s something so effortlessly smooth about the way Hoseok had handled the entire interaction -- as mundane and simple as it’d been -- that sets Y/n’s nerves on fire, and she accepts the drink shyly. Her mind flashes back to the one time she’d been here with her brother and his friends, the way Remus had stumbled over his words and almost spilled his drink on the table. It isn’t as cute to her now as it was back then--

Wait, what the hell?

“Princess?” She looks up from her drink and finds both Hoseok and Yoongi staring at her, heads tilted in matching confusion. Hoseok’s eyes flick down to her drink, and he gestures toward the bar with his thumb. “You’ve been drinking them cold this whole time, but I can get you something else if you don’t want it--”

“No! No… Thank you. This is good.” Hoseok stops short at her outburst, Yoongi’s eyebrows lifting past his fringe in surprise. Y/n only looks between them for a moment before lifting the drink to her lips awkwardly. When she sets it down again, she doesn’t notice the line of foam stretching across her top lip. The boys focus in on it, Yoongi taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he decidedly leans toward her after a moment. Resting two fingers under her chin, he swipes his thumb slowly over her mouth, sitting back and sticking that same thumb in his mouth to clean the sugar off his skin when he’s done. Hoseok watches the exchange with unwavering intensity, following the path of Yoongi’s hand all the way to the smaller boy’s mouth. Y/n doesn’t realize she’s done the same.

Seeing that he’s being stared at, Yoongi smiles awkwardly, leaning his elbows on the table as the tips of his ears turn pink. Looking to his boyfriend, he opens his mouth.

“So… it’s your fault you almost died?” Hoseok blinks, the moment gone. Y/n takes another sip of her drink, giving herself time to hide behind the large mug that covers much of her reddening face when she tilts it back. She swipes self-consciously at her mouth with her sleeve when she’s done, hoping they wouldn’t have to repeat the intimate display from before. She thinks that, if not for the fact that she’s found herself sensitized to the sound of Hoseok’s voice, she would have missed his response.

“Alright, I feel like I have to defend myself here -- I mean, I was 13 and way too excited about finding that pack of sentient wolves I’d read about. You really can’t blame me for not expecting there to be students of Y/n’s… special nature.” Hoseok glances around the pub inconspicuously, and Y/n finds herself covered in goosebumps when he lowers his voice at the end.

What the hell is happening to me?

Y/n blinks quickly, willing her frazzled state to just disappear, and focuses on what he’d said previously instead. She meets his eyes, sighing slightly when she sees that he’s already peering at her, thoroughly entertained by whatever it is that he’s finding on her face.

“So--” Hoseok straightens, discarding whatever he’d been thinking about to pay attention. “--are you just a total magizoology nerd then? Is that what you wanna do after graduation?” As if he hadn’t been expecting her genuine interest in his life, Hoseok bows his head slightly at her question, visibly shy. Beside him, Yoongi smiles fondly, and Y/n’s reminded of that day in the forest, when their roles had been switched.

“Oh… Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m interested in…” Hoseok trails off, but Y/n watches Yoongi nudge him almost teasingly, urging him to continue what he hadn’t wanted to say before. “I-uh-- I’ve been looking at internships at St. Mungo’s, but I really don’t think I’m gonna get--”

“He’s going to get in. They’d be crazy not to take him.” Yoongi interrupts him, practically beaming with pride. “How could they not? He’s got real passion for it, it’s obvious. I’m kinda jealous -- I wish I could do something cool like that.” Hoseok takes a sip of his drink, clearly doing what Y/n had done earlier to hide from them, but she lets it slide with a teasing glance when he meets her eyes over the rim of the glass. Turning to Yoongi, she hums, noting that he doesn’t seem fazed at all with admitting something about his future.

“You can’t do something cool like that?” She doesn’t mean to pry, but even after she realizes that the question could be sensitive, Yoongi only breathes out a laugh, shaking his head. She’s relieved he hadn’t taken any kind of offense.

“Nah -- my parents are what you’d call… elitist freaks. They’ve got a serious hard-on for that psychopath running around with his cult, so… I’m honestly lucky if I make it out of this war with all my morals intact.” She is deeply unprepared for Yoongi’s response, the sudden heartbreak she’s experiencing only worsened by the fact that he says it with a straight face, as if he’d long resigned himself to the truth of his words. When he sees the look on her face, Yoongi’s expression softens, and he tilts his head to look at her, his eyes twinkling with endearment.

“Don’t pout at me like that, babe -- you're making me want to kiss it better.” If Y/n hadn’t been expecting that comment, Hoseok really hadn’t been expecting it. He chokes on his butterbeer immediately, waving at Y/n frantically when she tries to help. Slamming his drink down on the table, Hoseok grabs Yoongi, pulling the smaller boy to him, hiding his face in his boyfriend’s shoulder while he finishes his coughing fit. Yoongi only pats his back, making a face of playful disgust at being used as a napkin.

“Well, now that Hoseok’s thoroughly embarrassed himself and his Slytherin reputation in front of, like, a million people, I think it’s time we go get him his jelly slugs.” Yoongi nudges his boyfriend out of the booth, gesturing with a nod of his head for Y/n to follow as he sets some money on the table and slides out of the booth.

In contrast to the way Hoseok had entered the Three Broomsticks, he leaves with his head bowed, ears red as he slouches his way to the door. Yoongi chuckles from behind Y/n, shaking his head as he guides her through the crowd with his hand on her waist.

“Look at him go -- my tall, embarrassed boyfriend. How cute. Gotta get him his jelly slugs.” He says all this like he’s talking to himself -- not quite in full sentences, each word full of a kind of exasperated adoration that Y/n finds impossibly cute. Yoongi’s shaking his head like he’s disappointed by Hoseok’s rare awkwardness, but he’s smiling like he’s in love. Y/n feels both giddy by the display of affection and strange that she’s granted this kind of access to their relationship. She feels torn, quite frankly. Like she shouldn’t be allowed to see this side of them.

By the time they finally reach Honeydukes, Hoseok has regained his confidence, going so far as to walk backwards while he talks to them. It’s ridiculous, really, the way he changes before her eyes -- the slouching boy from before transforms into the arrogant Hoseok she knows well, the one who practically hangs off of her now, looking for any excuse to touch her. One hand pulls at her scarf, adjusting it, while the other grabs for her fingertips, asking with a smirk if she’d like him to warm her up before linking their fingers together playfully. Yoongi only follows along, smiling and feigning innocence when Y/n turns to him for help.

They’re so busy causing chaos amongst themselves that they don’t notice another group headed straight for the doors of Honeydukes -- when Y/n does finally see them, she’s startled simply because, in any other case on any other day, she would have noticed them from a mile away.

“Y/n, hi!” Remus smiles wide at her, waving excitedly when he catches her attention. Y/n stops short, shocked by his sudden appearance which, really, is not all that sudden. “I texted you to see if you wanted to meet up today, but I guess luck’s on our side, huh?” Making a noise of surprise, she reaches for her coat pocket, where her phone remains unchecked. She hadn’t even felt the vibrations of a notification, too distracted by Hoseok and Yoongi.

As she’s checking her phone -- and seeing that she does, in fact, have an unseen message from Remus -- she misses the way James’ gaze hones in on where her hand is still attached to Hoseok’s, but she certainly feels when Hoseok rips his hand from hers and stuffs it into the pocket of his jeans. Looking up in confusion, she finds that he’s not looking at her, only staring with determination at the display in the Honeydukes window. He looks conflicted, almost guilty, and when she turns to the Marauders, the expression of scandalized surprise on James and Sirius’ faces tells her why. If Remus had seen them holding hands, his face betrays nothing.

“I’m gonna just… go get my jelly slugs. I’ll see you inside.” Hoseok brushes past her, leaving her there with Remus as he heads into the sweets shop. Yoongi looks after his boyfriend, and Y/n sees him start to follow but stop in his tracks, choosing in the end to remain beside her. The decision throws her, but she’s learned that Yoongi doesn’t do anything without thinking it through first, so she lets it go. Turning to the boys, she smiles sweetly, addressing them with surprising ease, considering she’s in the company of her childhood crush.

“Did you guys just get here? I didn’t see you at the Three Broomsticks at all.” James shakes his head, pushing away the memory of her display of physical affection with Hoseok as he responds. Sirius, however, continues to squint suspiciously, looking between her and Yoongi as he hovers near Remus.

“Nah, we were just at Zonko’s for like two hours -- gotta stock up, you know.” He shakes a large plastic bag filled with tricks and pranks for effect, and Y/n steps forward to peer inside.

“Woah… I can only imagine how many detentions this’ll get you.” The boys all laugh at how well she knows them, but Sirius leans in with a conspiratorial grin.

“Say, Y/n -- I feel like we haven’t seen you in forever! Why’s that, hm?” Y/n meets his eyes, lost.

“What do you mean? We talk all the time--”

“Well, yeah, but with your brother glued to Jin now, our crew’s been feeling so… empty these days. The Telepathy Twins have abandoned us!” He drapes himself over Remus’ back and cries out dramatically as he finishes complaining, something that has Y/n rolling her eyes with a smile.

“I’ve been here, Sirius -- we can hang out whenever you want!” Sirius perks up, leaning in toward her face with a sly grin.

“How ‘bout now?” Y/n lifts a single eyebrow, leaning away from him with a look of disbelief.

“Now? But…” She’s about to say that she’s busy and can’t leave with them, even if Remus is right there offering to hang out. But her hesitation sets Yoongi on edge, and he steps in quickly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging her back toward him. When she’s close enough, he takes his arm and throws it around her waist, moving behind her as he pulls her flush against his chest. She’s suddenly trapped against him, something made more clear in the way Yoongi leans his chin on her shoulder. She can almost feel the smirk spread across his lips as he speaks, his voice vibrating against the shell of her ear.

“Sorry boys, but Y/n’s really hard to get a hold of these days. Hoseok and I barely managed to reserve time with her today -- what kind of person would I be if I just let you steal her away from us?” Y/n’s not sure what to do with the show Yoongi’s putting on, and she knows by the way his arm is firm against her waist that he’s not letting her go anytime soon.

She watches lamely as Sirius hums contemplatively, having expected some sort of reaction from Yoongi but not quite this. Remus’ eyebrows lift in surprise as his gaze drops to the arm wrapped around her, but he doesn’t say anything. James is the first to respond, shaken from his shock at Yoongi’s bold move by the realization that this looks not unlike a literal standoff right in front of a crowded shop.

“Well, we’ll just have to schedule our own time later on, then, won’t w-- oh!” He reacts when the doorbell above the Honeydukes door rings out, revealing Hoseok as he exits, holding a bag of jelly slugs and sugar quills for Yoongi. There are a couple chocolate bars in his hand, something he knows helps Y/n after the full moon. He’s so busy sifting through his bag that it takes him a second to see the scene he’s just walked into.

When he does look up, he’s stopping short, eyes trained evenly on the compromising position his boyfriend’s in. Whatever thoughts are crossing his mind in that moment are unseen on his face, his eyes unblinking as they pass over Yoongi’s arm, Yoongi’s chin, Yoongi’s lips pressed against Y/n’s ear as she’s pressed against his chest. They all stand there for a moment, frozen, waiting for Hoseok to react.

And then he’s blinking, looking away as he moves toward Remus and holds out one of the chocolate bars in his hand. Remus takes it, uncertain of what’s happening in Hoseok’s head right now. The Slytherin explains with one line and a polite smile.

“You look tired.” He’s not wrong -- Remus’ eyes show his exhaustion, his face and shoulders more slouched than usual as his body fights against the force of the moon, almost full. He looks how Y/n feels inside, but the adrenaline from the day spent with Hoseok and Yoongi -- apparently not yet over -- had kept her from feeling the full effects of the near future. Now that Hoseok’s mentioning it, Y/n feels herself start to become drained of energy, something that she knows Yoongi notices when she shifts in his arms and he tightens his hold on her.

Remus takes the chocolate with a tired smile, thanking Hoseok under his breath. And then he’s leaning around the Slytherin to wave kindly -- albeit a bit awkwardly -- at Y/n and Yoongi, still entangled in each other’s limbs.

“Good luck tomorrow, Y/n -- let me know if you need me, okay?” It’s innocent, it truly is. And Y/n’s grateful for it, the way Remus has always looked out for her. But the way Hoseok glances over his shoulder at her, his eyes appearing almost resigned, leaves her unsettled. And when the tips of Yoongi’s fingers dig into her side, betraying his annoyance with the comment, Y/n can’t help the fluttering feeling that rushes into the pit of her stomach. A feeling strictly reserved for Remus -- until now.

She waves awkwardly as they go, painfully aware of the sudden wave of crisp air hitting her back when Yoongi finally steps away from her. He holds his hand out for Hoseok’s bag, offering to carry it. Hoseok hands him the sweets, passing Y/n her chocolate bar without a word. The three of them are quiet as they exchange items, none of them quite certain how to proceed from what had just happened. Y/n feels guilty, like she’s the reason Hoseok and Yoongi are silent with each other.

Then, Hoseok’s turning to her, decidedly ignoring the entire situation with an easy grin. But there, in his eyes, is a glint of mischief, something teasing and light but intense enough to tell her that he won’t be forgetting about this moment for a long time, and that ignites something in her that she’s never felt before -- not even with Remus. It sends her heartbeat straight to her ears, muffling everything around her as her stomach drops in a way that she can’t bring herself to describe negatively. She barely registers Hoseok’s hand on her elbow, calling for her attention as he directs a bright smile at her.

“Ready to go, Princess?”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #jung hoseok #min yoongi #hoseok x reader #yoongi x reader #bts poly au

214 notes · View notes

lovetorn · 3 years

Text

Life Was A Willow [Part 2]

Witch Hunter!Dream x Witch!Fem!Reader

Part 1 Part 3

Summary: It's always been hunters vs. witches, right?

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings for Part 2: violence, mentions of death (familial), swearing

A/N: part 2 !!!! thank you so much for the support and feedback from part 1, omg thank you !! well, i hope you enjoy part 2 ahhhhh !!

It’s 9 pm and Y/n still waits for the signal. She looks in the direction of the Castle and swings her feet back and forth from where she sits on the cottage’s roof.

The air is cold and the trees continue to rustle, the same way they do every day, but tonight, she has an eerie feeling about it. Regret slips into her mind sometimes, telling her that she is foolish for even accepting such a vague invitation by someone she doesn’t even know—but it was so intriguing and she trusts them (she doesn’t exactly know why).

Suddenly, a large pop startles Y/n out of her daze. Sparkles dance in the sky as fireworks burst from the land below. She quickly notes that the explosions are coming from the West side of the Castle and takes that as the signal. Very grand indeed.

Y/n jumps from the roof, landing gracefully on the dirt, and takes off running through the forest. She misses tree roots emerging from the earth and ducks under low branches from the undergrowth. The only thing that lights her path is the moonlight and at this moment, Y/n is thriving. The full moon allows her abilities to heighten and she places her full trust in her instincts.

The fireworks continue to explode and Y/n fills with more adrenaline, the sound making her scream out in joy. She’s excited about the meeting, and she doesn’t even know who it is. And maybe that’s what she’s eager for; the unknown.

The entirety of the concept scared her before, but now she’s exhilarated. And as the show comes to a close, Y/n nears the East side of the Castle. It’s completely silent at this end and the eerie feeling she had before creeps back. It’s not a feeling of uncertainty but one of opportunity and her instincts are telling her to take it.

When she reaches the abandoned cottage, Y/n inhales sharply. There’s no light coming from the house and the door remains closed. As she steps onto the stairs in front, the wood creams beneath her and she scolds for giving away herself to the person inside. Instead of sneaking around, Y/n stomps towards the door and swings it open.

She sees a man in the corner and makes her way towards him, her hands out and ready in case this interaction goes south.

“Who are you? And how do you know me?” Y/n calls out. The man jumps slightly and lifts his head. And in the moonlight flooding in through the window, Y/n recognises him as Dream, even with his mask off. He stands in a white button-up and brown pants, his hunter boots on and a newsboy hat sat on his blonde hair.

“Dream?”

“Hi, Y/n. I knew you would recognise me.” Y/n doesn’t want to look away from him. This is the first time she’s seen his face, and despite the darkness, she sees how handsome he is.

“Why—how? Why did you want to meet me in such a creepy way?” Y/n asks in disgust, picking a cobweb out of her hair and then off of her shoulder; they seem to be everywhere. Her expression falls back to one of admiration when she looks back at him. However, the moonlight lacked the light Y/n needed to see him properly.

Dream laughs slowly. “I forgot to bring a lighter for the lamp. Do you think you could, uh—maybe,”

“Glady,” Y/n sighs and flicks her hand towards the candle in the glass encasing. It immediately comes to life and the room becomes brightly lit. Her eyes fall onto Dream again and she finally sees him; his piercing green eyes and the scar that runs from the top of his left temple to the corner of his lip.

“Wow,” Dream mumbles under his breath. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you, and I know that everybody I know would, just, obliterate me for even thinking about doing this, but I needed to talk to you about—“

“You’re rambling.”

“Right, right...”

Y/n squints at the man and then tilts her head. “Whose C?”

Dream’s eyes widen as he nods. “Yeah, uh, that’s me. My name’s Clay.”

The witch doesn’t say anything as she stares at him. “So why do they call you Dream?”

This isn’t where Dream thought the conversation would go, but he’s happy they’re not fighting.

“My mother came up with the nickname when I was born. I nearly didn’t make it and then through some miracle, I did. So, she called me her Dream.” Y/n can tell the story makes him emotional, so she doesn’t push any further.

“That’s really sweet, Dream.” And at the sound of his real name, Dream perks up slightly before he cracks a smile. Y/n grins back at him; a real genuine smile. The pair stand in the low lit room in comfortable silence, until Y/n’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“What did you want to talk about?” She asks. Dream nods once and continues from where he was cut off before.

“I wanted to discuss the possibility of a truce between witches and hunters,” Dream isn’t smiling anymore, instead his lips are screwed up and his hands fidget in front of him. Y/n, however, grins even bigger.

“I’m all for that, honestly. I’m tired of being on edge every day and being scared for my life. If we can find a way to create peace, even for a little bit, I’m on board.” Y/n keeps it short for now, not wanting to scare him off by how passionate she feels about the situation.

Dream’s eyes light up at the sound of her agreeing. “Really?” Y/n nods and becomes surprised when she feels Dream’s arms wrap around her. “Thank you, thank you.”

“No, Dream, thank you! I’ve been trying to convince people of this for years. I’m really glad that you feel the same way.” The pair pull apart and Dream flicks his eyes down to Y/n’s lips for a split second.

“You’re so pretty,” Y/n nearly chokes at his comment. Dream feels his cheeks burn when the words tumble out and soon they’re both flustered. “Sorry! Oh my, I’m sorry, that didn't mean to slip out—”

“Dream, it’s fine. I think you’re pretty too; especially without the mask.”

The hunter swats the witch’s shoulder playfully. “Stop~” The pair laugh together, and then proceed to stand in another comfortable silence. The wind howls and whistles outside and makes the cottage creak, adding to the eerie aura that surrounds it.

“What’s with the hat? It’s nighttime.”

Dream plucks the accessory off of his head and runs his opposite hand through his hair, the soft locks falling back into place when his hand returns to his side. “Part of the disguise, duh.”

Y/n squints at him, her expression morphing into one of mischief. “Isn’t the mask a disguise in itself, though? Also, put the hat back on, you look handsome with it.” It’s time for Dream to blush now. He covers his face with his hat and scoffs softly. “Y/n!”

The girl slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle her embarrassed laughs. “It’s true!”

The man rolls his eyes before placing the hat back on his head. “Happy?”

Y/n nods before telling him to answer about the mask.

“Well, no, nobody at the Castle actually knows what I look like—except for my best friends, Sapnap and George.”

“George? As in Prince George?” Y/n is shocked, to say the least. She now understands why Dream is so passionate about the peace between the Hunters and Witches. Prince George is known for his differing morals and ideas from his family, which makes him stand out from the other Royals. Y/n admires his bravery and courage to do so.

“Yeah, we’ve been friends since we were young. I’m jealous that he can be so open with his opinions in that Castle—Lord knows if I was, I'd be executed,” This makes Y/n’s stomach drop. “But, it’s okay, with your help, hopefully, we can convince humans and magical-kind alike, that there can be peace. A—And we can live together in harmony, without being consumed by the overbearing thought of death every moment of our lives.”

Dream stops his tangent, his face flushed and his eyes pleading. Y/n feels like crying; she has waited years for someone to be as passionate as her about this topic. “I’ll help you, Dream, no matter what; because I wholeheartedly believe we can do this. I trust you.”

Y/n shocks herself with this statement; she’s never trusted a human before.

“And I trust you Y/n.” The pair stare at each other, smiles spread across their cheeks as the night outside slips away, and then it’s just them; standing in the main area of a small, abandoned cottage that sits East of the Castle, lit up with a lantern that casts a warm glow over the pair. Y/n can almost say it looks and feels magical.

“Ok, enough flirting, let’s get planning on the truce. Sounds like a plan, doll?” Dream gives her a lopsided smile and Y/n feels her heart rate increase at the sight of him.

“Where were you?” Wilbur says. His voice is deeper than usual and fits in perfectly with the way he’s sitting ominously in the dark. Y/n stops tiptoeing towards her room and turns to face him; defeated that she got caught. However, she still remains giddy and her heart beats faster for other reasons.

“I was meeting with Schlatt—I need more toadstools for a potion I’m making.”

Wilbur squints at her, his lips curling into a frown. “I know you’re lying, and so does Niki.”

Y/n sighs and starts walking towards him. “I’m sorry—“ She pauses when she sees Wilbur shake his head.

“Don’t.”

Y/n screws her lips together and nods once. Her once excited demeanour fading away when she sees Wilbur’s look of disappointment. “I was meeting one of the new hunters, Dream.”

Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows, “What? Why?”

“We’re formulating a truce amongst witches and hunters.”

He raises his eyebrows in both surprise and suspicion. “Okay? And why are you doing this? We don’t need peace.”

“Uh, so we’re not in danger every living second?” Y/n’s nerves grow into anger. “Why are you so against the chance of maybe, finally getting this?”

Wilbur shakes his head and stands up, the chair screeching against the wood floors as he moves. “Haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds?”

Y/n is at a loss for words while the tall man rolls his eyes and leaves, avoiding her as he circles around her to walk down the hallway.

His abrupt exit confuses Y/n. Why is Wilbur so against peace with the Hunters?

—

Dream manages to sneak into the Hunter’s Wing before they lock the front doors for the night. He sits silently on the bench in the training room and slips his boots off, making sure to place them on the floor as quiet as possible. He takes his hat off of his head and holds it in his palms, smiling stupidly at the inanimate object. The flame in the lantern next to him is fizzling out and it's hard to see 4 feet in front of him.

“Dream?” Even in his daze, Dream can sense the anger and fear in Sapnap’s voice.

“Sapnap? Why are you awake?” The younger boy walks out from the hallway and towards him.

“Me? Where were you? It’s midnight.”

Dream sighs and rests the hat on the bench next to him. “I was out.”

“Out? You mean meeting with the witch?”

Dream’s eyes widen. “How do you know that?”

“Fireworks don’t just go off for no reason, Dream. And I found the note in your room.” Sapnap says, ripping the letter from his pyjama bottoms pocket.

“Just say you have a crush on her, Dream!” Sapnap yells, throwing his arms up in defeat.

“I don't—I promise, Sapnap.”

“Fine, if you don’t like the witch, then kill her.” Dream’s dumbfounded. He stares at his best friend with such bewilderment that even Sapnap feels a twinge of guilt. Dream sighs, carding his hand through his hair in frustration and confusion.

He doesn’t reply, even when George arrives in a hurry, still in the process of wrapping a dressing gown around his body.

“What’s happened? I heard yelling.” The pair remain frozen, refusing to meet the Prince’s glare as they avoid eye contact.

George shakes his head, “Has this got to do with Dream meeting with the witch?”

“George! How do you know, too?”

George huffs. “I know everything that happens in and outside of my Castle. But, fireworks? Really?”

Dream throws his hands down in frustration. “Yes, fireworks! It was a good distraction and it was a signal for her anyway.”

George eyes the blonde before he crosses his arms over his chest. “As much as you hate to admit it, it's obvious that you’re fond of her, Dream. And no matter what happens, I’ll be by your side, okay? You know that.”

“What the fuck?” Sapnap spits. “You have his back? George, I can tolerate your ideals about the magical kind, but this is the witch who killed half of the hunter population.”

Dream stills. “What?”

“You’ve gone and done it now, Sapnap!”

“Y/n killed people?”

“Dream—“ George goes to speak, but he’s cut off by Sapnap.

“Yes! That’s why I’ve been trying to warn you! Why do you think we got this job so easily?” Dream stares at the concrete floor, his heart dropping into his stomach. He can’t believe it, he refuses to.

“Sapnap!” George snaps. The younger boy cowers away slightly, his once confronted facade crumbling at the sound of the Prince's tone. “Stop it, right now. You are in no place to tell him this, okay? You may be my best friend but that doesn’t excuse you from doing this.”

Dream chews on his bottom lip quietly as he watches Sapnap turn around and stomp out of the training room, but not before he scrunches up the letter and throws it on the floor. “Thanks.”

George’s gaze remains on the door. “Don’t thank me. He should know better anyway, considering his last relationship.”

The blonde nods once, reminding himself of the youngest boy’s past relationship with a fairy from the kingdom next door. Dream lets out a laugh at the thought.

For the next few days, Y/n hears nothing from Dream. She worries for him, has he been caught?

She stands on the porch of her cottage, hoping, begging for a sign that he is okay. Clouds plague the blue skies above and Y/n knows the bad omens swirling around the kingdom are the cause—and the inside of Niki’s crystal ball had burst with black and dark red clouds which had only confirmed her suspicions.

The wind howls through the trees and calls to her, speaking words of concern under its tongue. Y/n rolls her eyes and sighs, she knows to be careful, especially with the humans inching closer to their world.

However, a faint voice draws Y/n’s attention away from the wind and to the well in the corner of the garden. The sound confuses her at first, and then the wind’s guidance is forgotten as she makes her way towards it. The short fence around the area is still broken from the fight with the hunters weeks ago, and nobody has had a chance to repair it yet, so Y/n takes it upon herself to fix it.

The whispers from the well become a string of mumbles and are impossible to decipher as Y/n kneels with her back towards the forest—and for the first time, she is anxious about what lies within it.

But, before she can even begin picking up the pieces of wood, the sound of someone approaching her at a fast pace alerts Y/n immediately. She spins around with her hands out and is shocked when she sees Dream with his sword raised. The ground moves beneath her feet as she uses the earth’s power to aid her in meeting his strength.

“Dream?” She screams, her body struggling to resist the force of his weapon. Sparkles fall from her fingertips as she pushes back.

“You killed an entire army of people, Y/n!” Dream’s tone is low and angry and Y/n knows he would have found out eventually.

“Dream, I didn’t do that!” Y/n exclaims and Dream swings his sword backwards.

“How can I trust you? Hm? After all, you’ve killed people!” Y/n could cry at his utter naivety. She drops her arms by her sides as Dream glares at her in pure disgust.

“Instead of fighting, can we talk about this?” Y/n pleas. Her feet move swiftly beneath her, maneuvering her body away from Dream’s sword.

Suddenly, Dream brings the sword down to slice into Y/n’s arm, but a force pushes it back towards him, making the blade fly high into the air before it clatters onto the ground.

Y/n stands with her hands out, remnants of glitter falling around her fingers. “I told you! I’d never do that, and I have proof.”

“Proof?” Dream still stares at his sword, unable to meet Y/n’s eye.

“Proof. Now, how about we calm down and I’ll show it to you. Okay? Sounds like a plan?” Dream nods slowly, turning his head to face her. Finally, his green eyes soften and the raging fire that burns within them fizzles out.

“Okay.”

Y/n sighs before she begins. “When a witch kills an innocent; a human, they gain a marking on the back of their neck to signify the betrayal of the harmony between the two. However, since King James, that peace has been terminated; hence his need for hunters, like yourself.

“But, anyway, everybody in this damn kingdom thinks I killed those hunters, but I don’t have the mark,” Y/n turns around, her hand going to lift up her hair from her neck. The skin is clear, with no markings, nothing.

Dream nods, furrowing his eyebrows. “How do I know you didn’t just cast a spell to make it disappear?”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “There’s no way to cover up the marking; it’ll just shine through whatever you put over it. It’s permanent and very obvious.”

“I told you, Dream, I didn’t kill them. I’d never kill an innocent.”

“Why didn’t you show them, then? You've had proof this entire time and never thought to actually show anyone?” Dream is bewildered. Y/n nods slowly, understanding his argument.

“I don't need to prove myself to your kind.” Is all she says. Dream waits for her to continue but soon realises she's not going to. “Fair point.”

“So, why did you come at me swinging? Did you really believe I would do that?” She whispers and Dream feels his heart sink. He is speechless for a few moments—did he really think that? Or was he feeding into Sapnap’s ideology of witches?

“S—Sapnap convinced me of things. I didn’t believe it at first, but the more he went on—I guess he got into my head.”

Y/n cocks her eyebrow and scoffs out a laugh. “Yeah, he did. You could’ve easily killed me with the amount of anger you had.”

This makes Dream’s breath catch in his throat. “I—I’m so sorry, Y/n. That was never my intention—”

The witch shakes her head and holds her hand up. “It’s okay, Dream. You didn’t offend me. I’m still here, with you, right? Isn’t that enough to tell you that I’m not angry?”

“Yes! Yes, sorry—”

“Stop saying sorry, it’s annoying.” Y/n giggles, holding her hand out to grasp Dream’s.

“So—”

“Dream!”

The cottage is quiet, too quiet, and Y/n walks into the small kitchen, hoping to bake a cake to cure her boredom. But, Wilbur sits at the round dining table, his beanie and a sewing needle in his hands.

“Wil, I wanted to talk to you,” Y/n mumbles, pulling out a chair. Wilbur doesn’t meet her eye as she does so, continuing to patch up his beanie that got ripped on a tree last week.

“Why are you against harmony with humans?”

Wilbur sighs softly. He places the beanie on the table and turns to face Y/n. “Y/n, when I was young, I lived amongst the humans in a town not far from here. We tried as hard as we could to mix in and not draw attention to ourselves.”

The girl listens intently, both curious and scared for his answer. She can tell the story makes him anxious so she reaches for his hand that lays on the wooden table. “Go on, Wil. I’m here.”

Wilbur nods, his eyes already full of tears as he continues.

“However, one day, my family decided to move to a more secluded area within the town, so my father could teach me more about magic without the risk of being caught. When we entered our new cottage in the forest, we were ambushed and they killed my entire family, leaving me, the only child, alone. I was left there, with my parents' bodies for weeks. I was made to fend for myself until I found Niki in a cave several years later. I was only 7, Y/n.”

Tears cascade down both of their cheeks. Wilbur takes in a shaky breath before he collapses onto the table out of grief. Y/n immediately leaps into action, wrapping her arms around the older man and letting him use her for support. His broken sobs and heart-wrenching cries stab Y/n all over, and she immediately regrets asking him about it.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Wilbur,” She didn’t push anymore, and that was all Wilbur needed.

#life was a willow fic #lwaw #dream x reader #dream imagine #dream imagines #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken imagines #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt imagines #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagines #dream smp imagine #dream x fem!reader #dream x female reader #dreamwastaken

295 notes · View notes

eirist · 3 years

Text

In the Heat of the Moment

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: For Day 3—Nami’s Day—of the ZoNa Days event (at @zonamievents). I’m already late but still posting it. It’s unfair if it’s only Zoro who gets an entry.

In the Heat of the Moment is by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds. I still have The Umbrella playlist to thank for being such a good company.

Summary: "You're getting sappy witch. Sounds like you care about me."

The rain hadn’t let up from the moment it began to pour down.

Which should not have been a problem in the first place… the Straw Hats have their very own weather expert-slash-navigator extraordinaire after all.

If only said weather expert-slash-navigator extraordinaire didn't get distracted, arguing with a certain green-haired swordsman.

"This is your fault!" Nami complained, rubbing her arms with her hands in a poor attempt to keep the emerging chill away.

Somehow satisfied, she folded her arms across her chest as she sulkily glared at the rain which has now completely turned into a steady downpour.

Luckily she was able to pull the man with her towards an alcove in the town's wall before they got drenched. It was an uncomfortable fit, as they were almost pressed to each other, but it'll do.

Zoro was snarling beside her. "This rain is MY fault?" He huffed. "Right! It's my fault coz I absolutely can make it rain on a whim!"

Nami turned sharply towards him, glaring daggers. "If you hadn't gotten lost—"

"I DON'T GET LOST!"

"—like the idiot that you are," she continued ignoring Zoro's outburst, deliberately raising her tone and effectively drowning his retort with her shrill voice. "Then we wouldn't be stuck in here ZORO!" Her voice jumped another octave when she said his name. "In. HERE!" She repeated the words, making sure to emphasize them and hoping to drill it straight into his thick, dumb skull.

"Tch! Then you shouldn't have followed me!" The former bounty hunter groused.

"Besides, aren't you supposed to be good at predicting the weather?" He commented sardonically. "Shouldn't you have known that it’s going to rain today?"

Nami gaped at him disbelievingly. And heat rose to her cheeks.

She gave his shin a good kick for that.

"Ite!"

"I know that!" Nami practically shrieked at him. "That's why I followed you here to tell you about it! Is this the thanks I get from making sure you don't get your dumb self lost in this island while a storm is brewing?!"

"Again woman, I DON'T GET LOST!" Not the one to be deterred, Zoro raised his own voice to match hers. "And damn it! Stop kicking me!"

"Bullshit!" The ever-feisty navigator exclaimed. "That a load of crap and you know it!"

She angrily poked his chest with her finger. "If I leave you to your own devices... We. Would. Never. Find. You!" She punctuated each word with a prod on his torso. As if that would actually make the idea sink unto him. "I don't want Luffy and Chopper whining about how you are lost and that we should find you!

Zoro grabbed her hand to stop her from poking a hole in him. Grasping it firmly he all but shouted back at her. "I will be fine! I will find my way back to the Sunny!"

“Hah! Fat chance of that happening!”

They were almost nose to nose by this time; all the while scowling at each other, both waiting for the other to back down.

Now only the sound of the rain falling heavily down the soaked earth can be heard as they continued their stare off. Along with the sharp intake of breaths coming from the two of them because honestly, their shouting matches can be quite arduous.

As the glowering continued; Zoro thought he caught a glint, a spark from behind Nami's eyes before those warm brown orbs widened.

In what could only be a realization that their current position is leaning towards… precarious. It was also not helping that his own eye had darted all over her face, taking in the flush on her cheeks. Despite it coming from indignation, she still looks...

... pretty.

He almost choked at his thoughts. When did he turn into that shit cook?

Zoro inhaled sharply and realized what a wrong move that was. He caught a whiff of Nami’s signature scent. Sweet with an undertone of zestiness that reminds him of her mikan fruits at their peak of ripeness—that certain moment that makes you want to steal one so you can taste them...

The color on her face deepened and Zoro wasn't sure if it was because she was getting angrier and angrier by the minute.

Or... If it was because she saw that his stare lingered for more than a second or two at her lips. "Screw this!" He grunted, instantly averting his gaze. He felt his face heating up and to get out of their rather 'awkward' situation, he immediately resorted to his favorite defense mechanism whenever he faces off against this orange-haired devil incarnate.

Losing his temper on her.

"You are not my keeper woman!" He snapped at her before immediately stepping out of their sanctuary and into the rain.

That made Nami snap to attention. "Hey!"

Without another word Zoro turn around and started walking away from her despite the torrential rain.

WALKING. AWAY. FROM. HER.

While it’s raining cats and dogs.

"Zorooo!!!" He heard Nami screeched his name, horrified that he would actually leave her alone. There was no way he was getting back in there with her. Not when it occurred to him that he was only a second away from grabbing her...

...and kissing her.

He walked in faster strides when she called him again. He had to get away from her. He needed to get away from her.

Far away.

Because honestly she was driving him crazy lately with all these thoughts of wanting to kiss her surfacing every moment whenever he was with her.

And who knows what the repercussions are? This is Nami they're talking about. She would probably sic ero-cook and even Luffy if he dared to even try. Or rat him out to either Robin or Usopp or both.

Or charge him more than what his current bounty is.

He winced at that.

For now he needed to get away and calm himself so he can reflect...

There was no warning as something collided at his back, almost making him stumble down the wet ground.

Did someone just attack him?

But the presence wasn't threatening, even if its arms were wrapped around his neck in a chokehold, throttling him.

"YOU DID NOT JUST LEAVE ME ALONE THERE RORONOA ZORO!" Nami deliberately yelled at his ear, probably making his ear drum shatter and rendering him forever deaf. In a split second the Supernova realized that Nami… had jumped him.

"Hey! Get off witch!"

"No!" "Get off!" "I said no!"

"Get off now or I'll--"

Her hold around his neck tightened. "Or you'll what?" Nami hissed right in his ear in a tone so dangerously low that an actual chill ran down Zoro's spine. He gave her arm a light slap, a silent gesture to loosen her hold because she was cutting off his air. When she didn't relent, he effortlessly bounced her up his back.

With a squeak of surprise, her arms slackened and he was able to finally draw in some air.

Nami’s hands grabbed at his shirt in an attempt to prevent herself from slipping from his back. Zoro tried to shake her off him. But the cat burglar swiftly clung onto him by locking her legs around his waist.

His remaining eye widened at that.

"Nami!" "Stop trying to shake me off Zoro!" Nami protested as she held on to him tightly. Her knee knocked against his katanas and he scowled. "Then stop strangling me damn it!" "You deserve it you ass! Leaving me alone like that! Wait until the others hear about this you brute!" Zoro muttered an expletive under his breath. Nami is a real witch!

He can feel her sliding down his back again. She was having a hard time clinging onto him because his shirt and her arms and legs were all wet from the rain water.

"I'm charging you for all these Zoro!" She muttered against his ear, her breath hot against his skin… a stark contrast from the cold rain water falling down on them. "The hell you are!" He managed to retort. She was speaking from his blind side and even as he tilted his head, he cannot see her face or her expression.

The next thing he knew… her fist had descended on his head.

“The hell! Why did you hit me?!”

“Because you are a moron.”

“That’s it get off me!”

“No!!”

They continued struggling against each other, right in the middle of the rain that was soaking them to the bone.

And Zoro realized then and there that Nami was quite nimble. She had quickly managed to change her position from his back to his side with her legs still locked around him.

He really didn't know what to do with that information, except it's going to be really handy once he gets the chance to...

Fuck! She had hit him on the head with her fist again. That’s twice already. Why are her punches hurting him so much? Was it clad in haki?? "Argh! Nami stop it!" He tilted his head towards her so he can growl and glare at her all at the same time.

She just gave him a haughty serves-you-right grin.

In retaliation he bounced her against him again.

Which was a wrong move. Because all it did was rubbed her breasts against him and press her closer to him.

It was a good thing the rain was drowning them. Though it did made her yelp in surprise. He’s good with that.

"Argh! Stay still Zoro! I swear if you drop me down I'm going to—"

“To what?” His steely eye met hers. This time it was his turn to challenge her.

Nami’s hold around his neck tightened, probably because her grip on him was slipping again because she was just as wet as he is and also because she still wants to choke the shit out of him for leaving her alone earlier.

She lifted her chin slightly so she could gaze back at him even as the rain water continued trickling down her face.

Was it just him or Nami’s quite comfortable where she is right now?

He knew she was trying to give him the evil eye. But it was hard to do that when the droplets of rain keep clinging to her lashes and she had to blink them away in a manner that affects him greatly.

And there was it… that familiar glint, that spark he saw when they were back in the alcove taking shelter from this rain.

“Look Zoro,” she finally sighed. “I just wanted to make sure you will come back to the Sunny in one piece and not get stranded in this weather."

Zoro blinked. He was not expecting that.

Then his face broke into a smirk. "You're getting sappy witch. Sounds like you care about me."

“Y-y-ou!” She stammered.

He grinned at her as she sputtered, her face turn absolutely and adorably red.

To think, he actually high-tailed it out of there earlier with his tail between his legs all because he can't face the realization that he wanted this woman.

But there was no denying it now. Amidst this rain it was very clear. That was all he needed.

He finally decided to take a chance instead of running away from it like a coward.

He tucked a strand of her wet hair behind her ear. "You can punch me or charge me later Nami," was all he said before he pressed his lips on hers.

Her body jerked in surprised. His arm instantly wrapped around her waist to secure her as one of her hands grasp at his shirt tightly.

He swore he heard and felt her murmur 'oh fuck' against his lips before she deepened their kiss.

They pulled apart slightly for air. Zoro hauled her up a little and Nami was about to lean down to for another kiss…

“A-choo!”

They looked at each other in surprise. Nami’s hand automatically covered her mouth as her face turned red again… this time for a very different reason.

“Ehem!”

They both turn their heads towards the sound and saw an elderly man standing a few feet away from them under an umbrella.

He was shaking his head as he looked at them.

“You youngsters should just get a room you know. You risk getting sick doing things out here in the open that should be done privately.”

#zoro x nami #ZoNa #zonami #zonalove #zona fanfiction #zoro nami fanfiction #ZoNa Days #zonamievents #zonamieventstumblr #roronoa zoro #nami

59 notes · View notes

elliesbaby · 3 years

Text

halloween night

“You both accidentally wear matching halloween costumes so everyone thinks you’re a couple” trope

Ellie x f! reader

warnings: nsfw

halloween nights in Jackson were a treat. it's the time of year where teenagers get to be teenagers. you all raid local stores on patrols to find anything costume worthy. sometimes that just means a cowboy hat or animal ears but you lucked out this year. after finding a shop called “restore” you managed to find a wedding dress. it wasn't obnoxious or poofy. it fell upon your curves perfectly, hugging the right places. when Dina saw it she threw a few whistles out and cursed you for outdoing her costume.

you pulled your h/c hair out of the messy bun it was held in and watched as the forced curls fell to your shoulders. grabbing eyeliner you carefully attempt to make winged liner. as you searched through many drawers you found the fake vampire teeth you had stashed away for the occasion. next was thigh highs and boots. you looked at yourself in the mirror. a slight wince occurs as you worry you went too far this year. it was short lived when Dina so graciously busts through your door. her dark eyes widen when they land on you.

“y/n. you look.. so hot. Jesse might have to watch out” she gushed with a wink.

“oh please, you ready idiot?” you ask before you both head out to the location this year.

The musk of alcohol hits you in your face as you open the door. you and Dina give each other a mischievous stare before racing each other to the kitchen. “I GET DIBS ON FIRST SHOT I BEAT YOU” Dina yells. You roll your eyes before they land on her. Ellie. your face gets uncomfortably warm as you notice her outfit. she wore a button up and a black suit. fake blood dripping off the corner of her mouth. her hair was pushed out of her face. was she.. also wearing vampire teeth?

“I can't believe it” Dina starts to say as Ellie takes a seat next to you both. “you two look like a couple!”

your gaze meets Ellie’s and to your surprise she's blushing just as much as you. uncomfortable silence took over and struggling to find words you blurt out “my turn!” as you pour a shot of dark liquor and swing it into the back of your throat. as you put the glass down you notice Ellie had walked away. Looking over at Dina she just shrugged as she drank straight from the bottle.

A couple drunk hours later

you couldn't believe the comments you were getting tonight. almost every 10 minutes someone was coming up to you and saying “you and Ellie look so cute together” or “you two make a cute couple.” you understood the confusion, it did look like you guys spent weeks planning a matching outfit when in reality it was all just a coincidence. what you didn't understand was why? Ellie had been avoiding you all night. you both were never close enough for people to mistake you as a couple. a part of you let yourself imagine it. you could admit the green eyed girl did appear in your head often. her hands grazing yours on patrols and the stares you share when one of you isn't looking. yet you knew Ellie didn't feel the same.

you thought maybe you'd try to find her amongst all the people so you could ask if the same thing was happening to her. as you're looking around you meet eyes with the auburn haired girl staring directly at you. she was standing next to a much shorter girl who seemed to have said something to annoy her. you watch as she scoffs, shaking her head before determinedly walking over to you. she had a mad expression and walk of urgency which scared you.

“everyone thinks we are together so let's show them what they want'' Ellie whispers in your ear before taking your hand and dragging you to the dance floor. you could smell the liquid courage all over Ellies lips. her warm rough hands gripped your waist and held you close to her. the music was oddly sexual. causing everybodies bodies to be pushed closer together than the usual dance. you felt her hips rub against yours. her hands gripping you tighter every time your bodies graze against each other.

“so have you been starting rumors about us y/n?” she says whispering in your ear so close that you feel your knees start to cave in a bit.

“no! no i swear, i guess we just look like a couple” you say trying to not sound intimidated by her closeness and sarcasm.

“no its okay i think it's cute you tell people that I'm yours” she says with a cockiness that causes your face to be flushed.

“oh shut up williams” you hissed slightly slapping her shoulder.

suddenly she was staring at you hard. her gaze made goosebumps appear on your arms. you feel hands gently being put behind your head before you feel warm lips meet yours. you kiss back, still in shock. Ellie grabs your waist before deepening the kiss. with the little courage you pull away and grab her arm to drag her to the closest bathroom.

you gently shut the door locking it behind you both. she stares at you with teasing eyes. “what are you doing y/n?” she says with a shit eating grin on her face.

“shut up” you replied before crashing your lips against hers while pushing her against the wall. Ellies need for dominance makes her pick you up and set you on top of the sink. her waist is grinding against you as her tongue is occupying your mouth. you let out small moans that make her smirk against your kiss. her hands make their way to your chest causing small whimpers to escape your mouth once again. her hands were exploring every part of your body and the more she touched the more you craved her.

“please ellie i need you” you whimper as your neediness is only getting worse.

she lets out a small giggle before making her way down to your dress. slowly lifting it up and exposing your thigh highs and underwear. her lips kiss your thighs making her way up. her warm lips against your cold thighs was causing a friction that made your body weak. you grip the back of her head while your whole body shakes in anticipation.

“Y/N? YOU IN THERE?” Dinas familiar voice yells out before trying to open the door.

“YES WAIT i'll be out in a second, meet you downstairs!” you say letting out a deep sigh as you hear her footsteps walking away.

you look at Ellie in shock. seconds of silence go by before you both break out into laughter.

“wanna take this to my place?” Ellie asks quietly, almost nervous for your answer. you lean in and give her a small kiss and a nod before taking her hand. leading her downstairs you get stopped. “hey! you two are so cute together” a girl you never met says to you.

making eye contact with Ellie you share one more deep laugh before you drag her away, back to her cabin.

a/n: sorry yall another rushed fic. i just needed to feed the hungry ellie stans. if this gets enough interactions ill make a part two of them going back to the cabin. v long and v spicy <3

#Ellie Williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie x reader #tlou #tlou 2 #tlou imagines #the last of us #the last of us imagines #ellie williams fic #ellie imagine

187 notes · View notes

carloswilliamcarlos · 3 years

Text

Whodunnit (Charlie Barber x Reader)

Warnings: Smut, PIV sex, infidelity/cheating, alcohol mention

A/N: IT’S TIME FOR CHARLIE PORN. Yes this is essentially just a remix of Lights Out. I have no original ideas but I am horny, take it or leave it. Also Sackler is there too this time.

Words: 2.2k

“It was a dark and stormy night,” the speech begins. And strangely enough, it was.

As if cued by god herself, a crack of thunder tears through the sky. Lightning illuminates the room just for a moment, strobing everything inside in ghost-white light. The hostess, her hair done up in dramatic curls and lips lined in dark red. The guests in masks and top hats, expressions frozen for an instant. Shadows splash onto red brick, splattered against the walls in grotesque angles. You jump, holding on tighter to Sackler’s sweaty hand. Behind you, a low chuckle.

You don’t need a flash of light to know whose breath is tickling your neck.

Charlie.

Of course he’d find it funny that you leapt into the air when thunder crashed. He always did love seeing you surprised. And he’s surely amused at your body curling closer to this child of a man who could do less to protect you than a puppy. His words, of course. At least, that’s what you imagine.

You’d locked eyes as you circled up for the story just moments ago. Your pulse still hasn’t slowed. He was gorgeous, all in black from head to toe, with a blood red mask tied around his eyes. His hair was so long, so dark, he towered over you and looked like fear incarnate, so dangerous and so beautiful your skin flushed hot at just the sight and…

...and Sackler looked nice, too.

It’s a scene from a nightmare already, your boyfriend and the married man you fucked in a stairwell last week in the very same room. Locked in at a murder mystery party with your entire theater company. On a dark and rainy night. Until someone solves this goddamn mystery and you can run home and take out every ounce of wet frustration on the man whose hand you’re gripping so tight now your nails are leaving marks.

“Hey,” he whispers at you, shaking your grip off.

“Sorry,” you mumble, slipping your fingers out through the gaps and wiping your palm on your vintage slip.

“Who murdered Madame Millicent? The answer sets you free. The clues are all around you… I suggest you look closely,” the hostess stage-whispers with a flourish. She takes her role very seriously.

“I think we should split up,” you tell Sackler without as much as a glance his way. You’re acutely aware of how slowly Charlie’s moving behind you.

“What?” Sackler pouts. “I don’t know any of these people.”

“You don’t have to know them, you just have to find clues,” you retort, words rushed.

“But I came here to be with you.” Sackler’s hands snake around your waist and he bends down to your height as you cast a glance over your shoulder. “I wanna do bad things to you in the dark,” he mumbles against your skin. And it’s right at that moment you and Charlie lock eyes again.

You push Sackler’s hands off you. It takes a few swats and shoves just to peel them away.

“You will,” you tell him, swiveling your head back around to look him in the eyes. “I promise, you will, just… Come find me. In a little while. Come find me in the dark and you can do whatever you want.”

You manage a little smile then, and Sackler seems more than titillated. He presses a kiss to your cheek, and you take in the smell of him, all warm spice and cinnamon and just a little too much cologne. With a final squeeze of your waist, he steps away, walking backward into the darkness with a cheeky grin and tripping over the edge of the coffee table on the way.

Charlie’s nowhere to be seen.

Everything’s hushed now, almost silent. Only the “Spooky Halloween Ambiance” playlist carries through the speakers and winds around the room. You might have been spooked if you hadn’t helped the hostess find it on Spotify earlier this morning.

Pairs of figures move around in near darkness, looking for answers. There’s only candlelight now, and not much of it. You only hope these clues don’t involve much reading.

Another crack of lightning gets you moving, taking step by cautious step from room to room, looking for anything that will get you out. You pass the kitchen, stocked with cocktail glasses and extra swirls of orange peels. The bathroom, where a group of girls is deciphering a lipstick message on the mirror.

And then there’s the library.

You’re sure there must be something in here you need.

You step into the room and lock the door behind you, not wanting to give away any solves you find. It’s so, so dark, you can hardly make out the edge of the wooden bookshelf as you graze it with your fingers. Slowly, you make your way along the shelf, skimming over book by book, looking for anything of interest. There are no sounds but your own shaky breath and your pulse rushing in your ears. And then you feel it.

A large frame pressing up against your back, just close enough so you know it’s there. It’s warm, it’s solid, it seems to wrap all the way around you. And then a hand, ghosting over your hip, traveling inch by daring inch to rest in the center of your rib cage.

“Adam?” you whisper. It’s Adam, you’re sure. It’s Adam, your boyfriend that you love. That’s what you tell yourself as his scent surrounds you. The scent of cool peppermint, and parchment, and the plastered walls of a certain familiar stairwell.

He doesn’t answer. Not even a nod. But your fingers come to rest over his anyway, and your back pushes against his chest anyway, and you tilt your head so slightly to the side anyway, so he can bite your pretty earlobe just. like. that.

You tug his hand up over your breast, squeeze his broad grip around it and sigh when his thumb grazes over your nipple, poking out through the shiny fabric of your slip. He swipes over it again, and then again, until it’s hard and straining and you’re rolling your hips back into his groin.

He kisses your neck, at first just a tingling tease, and then a hard, deep, suck that makes your whole body throb. His left hand reaches around to rest on the bookshelf in front of you. You can just make out the shadows of the veins that run down his long, thick fingers, over his wrist, and up under the fabric of his sleeve.

Now it’s his turn to guide your right hand, still clutching your breast, down along your own side, over the sultry swell of your hip, behind your back and between your bodies. He leads your hand between his legs and along the thick, hard, hungry length the waits there, tenting the fabric of his trousers and twitching at your touch. His breath brushes your ear as you run your hand back and forth, teasing the tip and trailing all the way down the length. He lets out a breathy, shaky, drawn out “yes,” so quiet you can only hear it because his lips are pressed right up against your ear.

It sounds… enough like Sackler, you tell yourself again, and even in the confines of your own mind, you know you’re a dirty fucking liar.

The figure steps back just a bit then, pushing you forward so you’re bent at the waist and pressed up against the shelf. You hear a zip and feel the sudden chill of air on your ass as he flips your skirt up and over it.

The velvety length of his cock slides between your legs and along your panties, giving your aching cunt just enough friction. It moves back and forth and back and forth again, and your hips are canting in time, rolling with it to wring out every drop of pleasure you can. His warm hand runs up the length of your back and down again, squeezing the curve of your ass and digging his fingertips into it.

It’s just then you hear a fit of squeals erupt in the next room over, and both of you freeze. The girls must have solved the lipstick riddle. You may not have much more time.

So you rock yourself back against him again, willing him not to stop, to keep going, to give you what you need, right fucking now.

And he does.

A nimble finger pulls your panties to the side and his tip is pressing into you, sliding between your wet, swollen lips and stretching open your tight entrance. You can’t help letting out a whine, you just can’t, and thank god his hand flies up to clamp over your mouth. If only you could do the same as he pushes into you, buries himself deep inside in one long, slow, thrust, because he’s grunting louder than he should be and he’s spitting out a pleasure-heavy “fuck” and that’s not Sackler, you know it now for sure, and you don’t fucking care.

His hips pull back and push forward again, harder this time. Your knees shake and you rest your ass against his weight, letting the entire length slide way, way up inside you and back out again, in a rhythm that’s all at once frenzied, and fluid, and fucking filthy.

You’re letting out little squeaks, little moany puffs of air every time he thrusts into you. You can hardly catch your breath, and the hand over your mouth isn’t making it any easier. His left hand against the bookshelf drops down around the front of you and between your legs, resting against your clit so it presses into it with every forward thrust. You’re surrounded by him, by the way he makes your body writhe, by the sound of his own breaths through gritted teeth. You fall back against him further and further, until he’s almost entirely supporting you, canting you upward will every jolt of his hips, and you start to come all the way undone.

In one move he throws you both forward so you’re pressed flat up against the shelf, your cheek resting on the cold, smooth wood and your breasts rubbing against volumes of Chaucer and Poe and Keats. He moves the hand on your clit in circles then, buries his face in your neck, and fucks you hard and fast and furious until you’re cumming all around his cock and it’s throbbing in gratitude, pumping his sticky white seed so far inside you, you swear you can taste it.

And then he’s out.

He’s out, and he’s pulling your panties back over your pussy to catch whatever threatens to spill out. There’s another zip, and your skirt falls back down, and the sweat dripping down your back suddenly feels so cold.

Your breaths both slow down. And you don’t touch. And you don’t speak. And you’ve never been more grateful for the darkness that hides expressions neither of you want to see.

You walk to the door and rest your fingertips on the handle.

“Thank you, Adam,” you mutter, hating yourself as you do. It’s met only with a bitter scoff, and you open the door and slither out, your legs still shaking.

Adam’s in the living room with a couple of guys who look to be taking shots out of a teacup. He gives you a big smile when he sees you and waves you over.

“Where were you? I couldn’t find you,” he asks as he pulls you in by your hip. You turn your face sideways to dodge his kiss, which lands on your cheek.

“Guess it’s just a mystery.”

Adam’s all goofy smiles when everyone reconvenes in the living room. It didn’t take him long to make new friends. The volume picks up in the gathering crowd and the hostess makes her way back to the front for her big finale.

“A crime did happen on this night, but will you guess the culprit right? Let us see if you found the clues, tell us, who do you accuse?”

She shines a flashlight into your eyes and you squint against the yellow light. “What?”

The hostess drops the act, just for a moment. “Who do you think did it?” she urges you, and it wasn’t until now you remembered why you were all even here.

Through the light, you can see Charlie standing at the corner of the room, his gaze cast down to the floor. He looks up through his lashes at you, a pout painting his face.

“It was you,” you say.

The crowd shuffles a bit as they look back to him, and he reaches in his suit jacket to pull out a little red card printed with a single word: MURDERER. He flicks it to the floor and glares your way.

“Guilty.”

Hands clap on your shoulders and Sackler shakes you happily. Everyone’s cheering. The party’s over. But you can’t hear a thing.

Amid the bustling crowd you lose Charlie for a second, and like a ghost, he’s gone.

The only proof he was ever there is the lingering smell of peppermint, and the creamy white sin dripping down your thigh.

__________

Don’t mind me, just tagging some Charlie loving pals hiiiiiiii

@direnightshade @contesa-lui-alucard @babbushka @sacklerscumrag @ohdamnadam @cowboy-kylo

#tw cheating #tw infidelity #tw alchohol mention #charlie barber smut #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x reader smut #charlie barber x you #charlie barber #also sackler is there too #tw unedited typos

147 notes · View notes