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loveshotzz · 1 year

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fboy!eddie x fem!reader

Rude Boy

Summary: Alone in a basement at Reefer Rick’s party, you finally catch Eddie’s attention.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: 18 + obviously this is an fboy!eddie fic so prepare for him to be smug, mocking and hot. Fingering (f receiving), dry humping, finger sucking, weed smoking, mentions of partying and a slightly angsty ending.

Authors Note: this is for @newlips #milestoneoflove celebration. I wanted to try something new in between working on bigger fics, I also just wanted to write something for you, cece. Thank you for always bringing us writers together on here 💗. Shout out to both cece and @carolmunson the queens of fboy!eddie. If you haven’t read The Sheep or Baby, As If I highly recommend.

Scanning the party over the top of your drink, your eyes search for the only reason you came to Rick’s in the first place. The rumor mill had let it be known that Eddie Munson and his main girl Cece had finally broken up, and you’d only dreamed of having that top spot.

Tugging down the short hem of your dress that you wore just for him, you were starting to get impatient. You had watched his messy head of curls disappear into the basement that was off limits for anyone that didn’t work for the man whose house you were in. No one had followed him in, and you didn’t notice anyone go before him. Sitting pressed against the wall you weigh the consequences of the choice you were about to make.

Pushing yourself off the wall you make a beeline for the door, weaving through the crowd you’re side tracked by a yank on your arm, falling slightly into the sea of dancing people you shove your empty cup into the chest of a handsy man who was trying to get you to dance. Ignoring the way he slurred ‘bitch’ after you yanked yourself free, all you focused on was keeping your breathing steady as you dared to be bold enough to get what you wanted for so long.

A manicured hand on the door handle, you got dark red just for tonight. The girls around town had always gossiped that color was his favorite. It doesn’t make any noise when you open it, the music upstairs immediately clashing with what he was playing downstairs. Closing the door the lighting is dim at the bottom of the stairs. A thick cloud of smoke creates a haze around the yellow glow and it tightens in your lungs with every breath you take all the way down.

The long wooden table with a lush bag of weed and a couple scales is what you see first, dark green crumbs dusting what was clearly a makeshift weigh station in the middle of it. Neon beer signs add a pink coloring to your forbidden surroundings as your eyes land on the worn couch in the center of the room.

The man you’d been looking for sitting right in the middle.

His long legs are spread wide with ease, and you catch a glimpse of the pale skin hidden underneath through the rips in his black tight fitting jeans. His simple white shirt wraps around his torso and arms the way you see on the models covering the packages at the store. The crisp cleanliness of it makes the ink that covers every inch of his toned arms stand out even more.

His face is hidden by a large hit blowing from between his plump lips adding to the fog that coats the room. You can still feel the heat of his stare and it makes your thighs press tighter.

“Lost?” His voice comes out deep with a teasing edge to it — a harsher rasp from smoking. Leaning forward - his elbows press to his knees, his handsome features reveal themselves to you when he pushes through the cloud of smoke. Straight white teeth shine on display in the kind of smile that ruins the thin fabric of your underwear. “Or just looking for trouble?”

It takes you a minute to find your words when the chestnut of his eyes darken as they take in the way the material of your dress hangs just right off every curve of your body. Thick ringed fingers come up to rest on the plush pink of his lips when they spy the dark red adoring your long nails, his smile widening even more almost like he knew you picked that color just for him.

“Trouble’s my middle name actually.” Biting into the sticky gloss of your bottom lip, mischief flashes behind his hungry gaze when he slowly extends the half smoked blunt in your direction. Daring you to take the bait.

He eats you alive with his eyes as your hips sway and your heels thud muted against the carpet carrying you towards him like a lion’s prey walking right into his den. The sound of Chevelle’s Send The Pain Below drowns out the noise of the party upstairs only intensifying the growing slick between your legs. Nerves vibrating from your fingertips the second hand smoke was already starting the job the blunt was going to finish.

You end up between his legs when you come to a stop and he doesn’t make any effort to leave your personal space. His hot breath fans on the exposed skin of your thighs when your delicate fingers brush against his when they take the blunt from his hand.

Your cheeks hollow when you take a drag, despite trying to keep a confident demeanor you can’t meet his eyes from this close. Black and hungry he doesn’t try to hide how his eyes roam all over you. The scent of his cologne is stronger than the weed burning, swirling around you it overpowers your senses.

His fingertips run a slow path up the back of your calf catching the way it makes you rub your legs together in search of friction. His lips ghosting against your skin as he starts toying with the hem of your dress.

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to talk to strangers?” He looks up at you from under his lashes and you try to ignore the sting to your ego that he doesn’t remember you.

“We went to High School together, Eddie.”

The squeal you let out when his teeth nip at the spot his lips had just been hovering covers the disappointment in your voice.

He just hums to himself giving you no indication if you jogged his memory or not. Squeezing rough with big hands at the doughy meat of your thighs he was focused on getting what he wanted, not the words coming out of your mouth.

Leaning back on the cushions of the couch, he watches you with narrowed eyes. Giving you another once over, he licks his lips watching the way yours wrap around the tobacco.

“Those cute feet of yours are probably sore from standing in those pretty lookin’ heels all night sweetheart.” Patting his lap, the smile on his lips twists like the devil before adding “Why don’t you take a seat?”

You exhale your last drag as he spreads himself out in anticipation for the choice he knows you’re going to make. With the blunt tucked between your fingers, you lean forward, hands gripping his shoulders letting him get a look at the lace that pushes your tits up earning you a squeeze on your sides in approval.

Straddling him with your knees against his hips, the heels of your shoes hang over the edge of the couch. Your dress sits rucked up at your waist — the new position giving him a view of the matching panties underneath.

“Wearing these ‘cause you wanted someone to see ‘em huh?” Plucking at the elastic edge near where you needed his fingers most, his smirk told you he could feel how they were already drenched.

“I don’t know what you’re talking abo-“

“Don’t let the blunt go out.” His tone is harsher than before and you hated how it only turned you on more. “You wanted my attention and now you got it princess, don’t be rude and waste my weed.”

You don’t argue with him bringing it back to your lips, putting your full weight down on his lap you could feel how hard he was underneath you despite his indifference. The silent victory has you smirking around your hit. The callouses that cover his fingertips catch against the smoothness of your skin as they grip and massage over the fat of your thighs.

The silver of his rings gleam against the soft light, the cool metal of the chain that wraps around his wrist leaves goosebumps in its wake with every glide against your heated flesh. Slow and teasing his hands make their way higher, clenching around nothing — he keeps his eyes trained on your face. Playing with the edge of your panties close to where you can feel a second heartbeat, he tuts when your hips give the slightest rock.

“Smoking my weed, breaking the number one rule in Rick’s house, and now you think you can be greedy while you soak my lap?” He lets out a low whistle before snatching what’s left of the blunt from your mouth. The glitter from your lip gloss stains the end when he puts it out.

Big hands on your ass, he pulls you forward when he leans back. A single grunt escapes him when your heat hits where he’s pressing against his zipper. A harsh smack followed by a kneading grip, he keeps one hand on your reddening ass while the other goes back to playing with the seam of your completely ruined underwear. He lets his two fingers dip inside, the fat tips tracing once over your slick lips.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it?” Pulling the offending material to the side his gaze darkens when he sees how you glisten for him, running the pads of his fingers down your slit he’s only partially satisfied when you mewl in response. Your long nails dig deeper into his shoulders when he does it again.

“I asked you a question, trouble maker.”

He doesn’t give you any time to respond before he pushes inside. Despite the lack of warning your walls give him little to no fight as they pull him in until he hits his rings. Eyes screwing shut at the stretch, all coherent thoughts get lost when he curls them to the side. Reaching your g-spot like he knew where it was the whole time.

“Yes! — Fuck, Eddie!” The coil in your stomach tightens when he starts setting a pace that has you clawing at his shirt, eyes rolling in the back of your head when he uses the pad of his thumb against your sensitive clit.

There’s a pang of jealousy when you think of all of the practice it took him to touch your body like he’d done it a million times before, but it’s short lived when he adds a third finger stretching your walls even further a pornogrpahic moan rips through your chest.

“Yeah? It’s like that huh?” His smooth voice is condescending as he mocks the way your mouth hangs open and your brows pinch together but you're too close to seeing god from just his fingers to care. The thought of how his dick would make you feel has you gushing all over him again, walls fluttering with a new wave of arousal. God, you hoped he’d let you find out.

All you can do is nod, your hips starting to meet the drag of his knuckles chasing the high that was threatening to consume every part of you. Too lost in the intensity of being so close you don’t see him lean in until you feel his lips on where the tops of your breasts are exposed from the low cut of your dress. Tongue lapping against the curve of your cleavage he bites down hard enough to leave a bruise, sucking for good measure he was marking you. No one else at this party was gonna touch you.

There’s a flicker of pride that ignites inside you at the thought of being one of his girls, and when the hand that's been firmly gripping your ass starts pushing your hips forward it’s just enough to send you flying over the edge.

White hot heat flashing behind your eyes, his name falls from your mouth in a way that will have your voice horse in the morning. Shuddering on top of him, you don’t think anyone has ever made you cum this hard before.

“Made such a mess of me darlin’, gonna need you to clean it up.” He doesn’t give you time to recover before the fingers that have you still trembling on top of him are shoved in your mouth.

The rough pads of his fingers press down on your tongue, the taste of your release coating your tongue — sweet and tangy. Wrapping glittering lips around them he inhales a shallow breath when you eagerly start sucking them clean.

“Such a dirty fucking girl, I’ve got something else you’d be good at suckin’ just like that.” Rutting his hips up, the over stimulation has you whining around his fingers. He pulls them out with a loud pop and a trail of spit still connects you, wiping the remains on the side of his jeans he gives your ass another spank before ushering you up.

“I’m gonna go get us something to drink then you can return the favor like I know you want to sweetheart.” Flashing you a smile that somehow has you hungry for more, you nod obediently with hot cheeks and a flushed grin on your gloss smeared lips.

“I’ll be waiting, Eddie.” Your voice is shy despite what just happened moments before, and it makes his dimples poke the sides of his cheeks.

You watch him head up the stairs you’d dare to come down, waiting to hear the door click you let out a little squeal. Falling onto the couch with a pleased smile, you toy with the bottom of your dress doing your best to ignore how soaked your were.

It had been ten minutes when you looked down at the mouth shaped bruise on your chest, and another ten when you opted to just lose your underwear for your own comfort. It was when it started pushing forty that the fear he might not be coming back finally set in.

Huffing with a shake in your throat, you finally will yourself to stand. Taking one last look around you finally decide to leave with whatever dignity you might have left after waiting almost an hour.

Your heels feel heavy with each step, the bruise to your ego from before growing ten fold. Turning the handle, it feels like all eyes land on you when you cross the threshold. Whispers and murmurs and stares falling to the mark on your chest, everyone knew who did that to you.

His loud laugh catches your ears and you should have known better than to let the lovesick smile light up your face like it was meant for you. It doesn’t take you long to find him halfway out the front door with his arm slung around a pretty brunette you’ve seen before. His main girl.

Throwing you a wink and less than guilty grin he knew he’d be able to see you again. You owed him a blowjob after all.

#newlipsmilestoneoflove #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #fboy!eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson angst

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nevadancitizen · 1 month

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-> HURTING, LONGING, LOVING – DANCING TO DISCO MUSIC

synopsis: you wake up and have no memory of simon. you can only hope to find him among your fractured memories and the scattered lights of a disco ball.

word count: 2.3k

characters: simon "ghost" riley, amnesiac! gn! reader

trigger warnings: transient global (aka temporary) amnesia, mentions of canon-typical violence/interrogation

notes: heavily inspired by disco elysium and part one of @roosterr 's amnesia series. go give it a read if you haven't already (＊๑˘◡˘)

Nothing surrounds you. Only warm, primordial blackness – the pond you learn about in Biology 101, the one where everything and everyone comes from. You don’t know this, of course, because you’re curled up in it, your mind fermenting in it. You’re no larger than a grain of yeast. You don’t have to do anything anymore. Ever. Never, ever.

But you’re growing. Gram upon gram of yeast, slowly morphing into meat. Muscles and bones and organs and a beating pig heart, decaying as soon as they grow. Soon you’ll need to do things. There’s a faint tickle of an idea. Soldiers. Battlefields. IEDs and tanks. You don’t know what to do with this information.

Somewhere within the idea – a sensation! Pain. Arcing, shooting pain, lightning through every new nerve in your new body. The limbed and headed machine of pain and barely-dignified suffering is firing up again. It wants to walk the streets of Manchester. Hurting. Longing. Loving. Dancing to disco music.

It wants someone. You want someone. A blurred-out face, someone you’re kneeling at the feet at. A ghost of a man. So lost he doesn’t even know what his face looks like.

“I swore I wouldn’t let you go,” your barely-formed mouth mumbles. Your teeth are hot, melted-together plastic and your tongue is jet-fuel-fired rebar.

Look up. No. You were just talking to yourself. That’s all you ever do. Even in this primordial pool. And the act is wearing thin, the spots of the disco ball fade around you…

The warm blackness is instantly replaced with a cold, artificial light. You bring your hand up to block it – since when have you had these? Gangly things with a red wire further down in… your elbow. That’s not a wire – that’s a tube. Of blood? Your blood. You have blood.

You remember now. You were born with hands and elbows, knees, feet, organs and fat and a copious amount of blood. A collarbone you’ve broken more than once. A body that was molded in the crucible of battle.

And holy shit does that body hurt. That hindbrain wasn’t exaggerating when it said that you are a being of suffering.

A dull throbbing is behind your eyes as they rove around the room. They land on a button neatly labeled Call Nurse. You press it and wait.

Everything after that is a blur. Nurses, doctors, “Follow my finger with your eyes, but don’t move your head,” poking and prodding with various instruments, “Tilt your head back so I can feel your neck,” blue latex gloves, “How much do you remember?”, bright lights in your eyes.

One nurse checks the dressings on your forehead. It’s just above your temple. His hands are rubbery and unfeeling as he re-dresses it. A trickle of cold liquid dribbling down from an alcohol swab. Bandages press against your skin. “What’s your name and date of birth?”, “Can you name the members of the task force you’re a part of?”

A man cuts through the blur as he comes thundering through the door. A balaclava with a skull pattern. Three men are behind him, hanging in the doorframe, out of the way. But the man moves quickly towards you, standing on the edge of the crowd of medical professionals, pacing back and forth, eyes on you, like how a sheepdog circles its sheep. Longing, waiting. Held back by an invisible leash of respect.

After a while, most of the personnel disperse, leaving you with a transient global amnesia diagnosis, a nurse, and the men. But even then, they leave after casting a glance at the sheepdog.

He moves closer, then stares at you for a while. He’s expecting something. His brown eyes are like sodium lights. A small trickle of streets and the sky. In your mind, you know he’s the place to be. You’re still alive while he’s around.

Yeah. He’s groovy. You want to disco with him. He is disco. But somewhere, a deep unaccessed area of your mind is saying, “You don’t want to disco like this. Not really. Not in the deepest part of your soul, where blond eyelashes only make you sad.”

Wait – come on, what are you talking about? Sad blond eyelashes? Blond eyelashes are fun!

“Why do I hurt all of a sudden?”

“Hey, it’s alright, darl.” He kneels by your bed and takes your hand in both of his. They’re warm, rough, calloused in places you thought couldn’t be calloused. “It’s me, it’s Simon.”

“What?” You pull your hand away from his. “I don’t know a Simon.”

Simon scoffs, but it’s more of an exhale of disbelief. “Don’t you remember me?”

“No.” You narrow your eyes. “Should I?”

Simon crumbles before you. His sodium streetlight eyes go out with an explosion of guilt – the bulbs pop with a fizzy sound. He looks like he should be groveling at the feet of a feudal lord, providing excessive evidence of his crimes, or throwing a cat-of-nine-tails over his shoulder and ripping the flesh from his own back. Whatever made him this way – you can be damn sure it was your fault. Those three simple words, instead of “I love you,” are “No. Should I?”

“It’s me.” Simon’s voice cracks as he speaks. Tears flood his waterline. He takes off his mask, revealing his pale face and dyed-blond hair. “It’s your Simon.”

“Simon,” you say softly. You look at him and hurt. A hole in your still-beating pig heart. Blood spills out from where the bullet went in.

“No. Nothing.” You look down at his hand. It’s palm-up, splayed out where you let go of it. It curls up into a fist, then Simon pulls it into his lap.

He says nothing. Just stares at you like you’re familiar yet somehow unknown.

You don’t know what to say. You just can’t conjure up any thoughts as you stare back. The morphine can’t be the cause of your dumbness. And it certainly isn’t the new modafinil that was just introduced to your system.

You search his eyes and feel, above all things, lost. Lonely in a hospital full of people.

Simon pulls away. His breathing is heavy and labored. A single tear slips down his scarred cheek. He doesn’t look like he’s one to cry. The tear leaves a trail of wet that looks like a new scar.

He tugs his balaclava back on and shuffles out, casting one last longing glance over his shoulder before closing the door behind him with a soft click.

That’s where it is. He is disco. He’s stumbling through the streets of Manchester. Hurting. Longing. Loving. Dancing to disco music.

You’re stuck in the hospital for a week for physical therapy and observation. Simon visits intermittently. He brings things to jog your memory – men that are part of Task Force 141, small snow globes from where you and he have apparently been deployed. Some of them work. But none of them bring back any memory of your apparent relationship with Simon – your boyfriend.

Today he comes in with a small device. It’s not a phone, but resembles it. A small wire comes from the amp and ends in a small circle of plastic.

You point at it. “What’s that?”

“It’s a contact microphone.” Simon settles in the chair that’s set up by your bed. He points at the blocky part of it. “This part holds the recording. You can play it back if needed.”

“Are you going to play it back?” You ask.

“No,” Simon says. “This one is blank.”

You take it from Simon’s hand and turn it over, looking at it. Examining. “Then why are you showing me this?”

“You are…” Simon sighs, trying to find the words. “You were a profoundly talented interrogator. You used contact microphones to record the interrogation, the confessions, the works. There’s a specified interrogation chamber underground. Contact microphones pick up the noise better down there.”

You continue looking it over. Fiddling with the wire. Running your thumb over the mesh of the microphone.

“Anything?” Simon says.

You close your eyes and think. Contact microphone… violence, blood. There’s a welding torch in there somewhere. The smell of bubbling flesh and burning hair. Cauterization without anesthesia. It was that way on purpose.

You open your eyes and look at Simon. “Interrogation.”

“Obviously.” Simon huffs out a laugh. It sounds forced. “I told you that.”

“Yes.” You sigh, looking down at the contact microphone. You try to think more. Contact… physical contact. Your fist making contact. Something hard. Solid bone breaking under your hands.

But also… something soft. Something that smells good. Smells homey. A black hoodie with some cheesy skull pattern on it. Actually, a closet full of black and grey clothes. A monotone voice to match a monotone closet.

The clothes smell faintly of cigarettes. A carton that’s mostly empty. They taste better than regular cigarettes – they’re some European brand.

“Do…” You look up at Simon. “Do you smoke?”

“Why?” Simon asks. “Do I smell like cigs?”

“No. Just…”

You close your eyes and try to remember more. The carton is a brown-orange color. The back is plastered with warnings about nicotine being an addictive chemical. No filters. A smooth, walnut-esque finish.

“Revaality,” you finally say and look up at Simon.

“Yes! Yes.” Simon takes your hand instinctively, excitedly. He smiles. Like crying, it doesn’t really fit him, but you’re glad he’s smiling anyway. “That’s the brand I smoke. I smoke Revaality.”

He takes your face in his hand and guides you to look at him. His sodium light eyes are bright once again. “Anything else? Lovie, please…”

You cringe away from his touch. Again, Simon is punched in the fucking face when he remembers that you don’t know him. Not like that.

Simon pulls his hands away. “Shit. I…”

“It’s okay,” you say quickly. “I know.”

I know you know a different version of me. The thought lingers, loud and unsaid. Simon, you’re a man with a lot of past, but little present, and almost no future. I’m sorry we only live in your memories, because I don’t even have those.

“I’m trying.” You look down at the contact microphone. “Believe me, I’m trying.”

“I believe you,” Simon says. “It’s just… it’s hard.”

Silence for a while. The artificial lights above you buzz and cast harsh shadows on Simon’s face. He looks… tired.

“I still love you,” he says quietly. Almost a whisper. “I… you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

He rests a hand on the railing of your hospital bed. “I’m not the best. I drink. I smoke. I have a laundry list of mental issues and types of trauma. So much it’s not even funny.”

“But you…” he sighs. “You fell in love with me anyway.”

You look up at him. He’s crying again. A pang of empathy in your heart. You don’t know why, but you don’t want to see him cry. The tears that cut through the dirt on his face are unbefitting.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is a mirror of Simon’s. Soft and wavering. “I want to remember. I don’t even know what happened to me. The doctors always dance around it when I ask.”

Simon bunches the end of his sleeve up in his hand and wipes away his tears. “You were a fucking idiot. That’s what happened.”

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“Not in a bad way.” Simon lets go of his sleeve and rests his hand on the railing of your bed again. “You love too much and too hard. You saved me.”

“It… the building…” He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his waterline to clear of tears. “The building was coming down. We thought we were out of danger close. But there was a piece of rebar that…”

Simon looks down at his lap. He’s ashamed. “It was supposed to hit me. I was supposed to die. I’m used to it. I’m used to close calls and blood transfusions.”

“But I’m not used to…” He glances up at you through his eyelashes. His long, blond eyelashes. “People I care about being hurt. Or people caring about me in general.”

“Simon.” You reach out and lay your hand over his where it rests on the railing. He holds his breath like he’s afraid.

A pause. You want to be sure of your words before you speak.

“I’m going to try my damndest to remember,” you say. “Even if I don’t remember everything, I – I want to try to learn to care about you again. Because, based on our limited interactions, I know you’re a good man. Even if you drink and even if you smoke and even if you have a laundry list of mental issues and an assortment of trauma.”

Simon slowly brings his other hand and rests it on top of yours. His callouses brush against your knuckles. Abrasive yet comforting in a way you barely remember.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Really, truly. Thank you.”

And, in this moment, Simon finally has some sense of control in an ever-turbulent world. The world that tried to take his one and only love. The world that has taken his one and only love and is only now feeding him droplets of what he knows – what he once knew. He must exercise this control carefully, lest he lose you again.

In the sky, there are no dogfights and no silverplate bombers. Only stars and the rabbit curled up on the moon and a singular winking comet. God is in Heaven. Everything is normal on Earth.

Somewhere, the spots from a disco ball freckle the dance floor once again.

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sapphickorro · 1 year

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Black Sheep´ˎ˗

Pairing(s) - intersex!virgin!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

summary: The mysterious girl of the campus shows up to a party for the first time, turns out you’re the first person to get to know her in more ways than one.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, blow jobs, frat party, college!reader and college!natasha, loss of virginity, first time, natasha has a dick, dirty talk, smut

word count: 2,308

ao3 - masterlist

End of exam parties were a big thing at your university. Friends of friends were invited to one giant frat house to celebrate the last major party before winter break. There’d be so many partygoers to the point that people would start to shift outside to the front lawn to party. You were sat on a couch scoping the room out for a potential hookup. Your friend group surrounded you talking about menial things until your friend’s voice broke you out of your trance.

“Holy shit, is that Natasha Romanoff?”

You twist your head to the area they were all looking at. A red haired girl was standing by the door with a red cup in her hand clearly looking as if she didn’t want to be there. She was dressed like a secret agent trying not to be spotted. A completely black attire topped off with a black leather jacket.

Natasha Romanoff was the black sheep of the campus. She wasn’t shy, she was just reserved. Never raising her hand to answer questions in class, never going out of her way to make friends. If you had books in your hands and needed a door opened, she would never be the one to go out of her way to open it.

She was the definition of mysterious, having no social media, no friend group, and always wearing those wired earbuds to drown the world out. You would either think she was weird or extremely attractive. She was definitely easy on the eyes so most girls on the campus were caught fawning over her, wanting to be the one to break her cold facade.

“I’m surprised she decided to show up.” Your friends started talking about the stories they heard about her, whether they were true or not.

“Well I think you should go talk to her.” Darcy, one of your closest friends, nudges your elbow catching you staring at her.

“I don’t know…she seems like she’d want to be left alone.” You turn to look back at your friend.

“Maybe she secretly has a warm gooey side to her that someone needs to unlock. I would try but I don’t know if Jane would be very happy with me flirting with her.”

“You know what else is warm and gooey?” Your other friend, Valkyrie says. You roll your eyes as everyone around you starts to laugh at the innuendo. “Alright, I’m gonna ditch you guys and hang out with a MUCH cooler person.” You get up to walk to Natasha and you hear your friends cheering you on behind you.

Your brain goes through every possible thing to say to her but when you finally reach her, all that comes out of your mouth is, “Hey.”

She stares at you and you falter under her gaze. Every ounce of confidence leaving you at the awkwardness of the situation. “I didn’t see you as a party type of person.” You add, trying to get a conversation flowing between the two of you.

She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. She just stares at you as if she didn’t understand what you were saying. “Okay! Good talk. Have fun!” You say throwing up finger guns and slowly backing out of there. You hide yourself behind the crowd of dancers at the center of the house and speed walk back to your friend group.

You friends notice you and start to berate you with questions.”What did she smell like?” “No, better yet, what did she sound like? Does she have an accent?” “Was she as cool as we imagined?”

“She didn’t say anything, she just stared at me.” You say grabbing your drink off the coffee table and chugging it. You tell your friends about everything that happened in the short three minutes that you were there and they burst into a laughing fit.

“Wait, you threw up FINGER GUNS?” Darcy grabs your shoulders, shaking you. “You have absolutely no game. No wonder she just stared at you.” Monica adds.

“Okay, guys. What if English isn’t her first language and she was staring at Y/N because she didn’t understand what she was saying. What if she’s so mysterious because she literally doesn’t speak English.” Kate tries to pitch in with everyone replying with mixed reactions.

“Why would she attend an all American college IN America if she didn’t understand English. I’m calling b.s.” Monica logics back and everyone breaks into an argument about what they think Natasha’s story was. You were just glad that they dropped how embarrassing your interaction with her was.

The party was slowly fizzling out. People had left to go get food or to have hookups. Thor and Carol thought it’d be fun to have all the remaining people play a game of seven (or more) minutes in heaven.

You’re all sat on the floor of the guest bedroom in the house and a glass bottle gets placed in the middle. “Alright, is everyone playing?” Thor asks as he takes his seat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice red hair walk in and stand by the door frame.

“Natasha, you playing?” He asks and doesn’t receive an answer back. The silence becomes awkward as he lets out a cough and says, “Okay then, I assume this means Natasha is playing.”

Everyone takes turns spinning the bottle, some people returning from the closet with their clothes wrinkled and hair messy. When it becomes your turn, you cross your fingers hoping for someone you knew to hopefully ease the awkwardness.

It lands on Natasha and everyone gasps. You watch as she walks to the closet and you stand up following suit. Your friends hoot and holler behind you.

When you enter the closet, you notice how there’s enough room for four people to fit but no more. You close the door behind you and you quickly open your mouth. “You know, we don’t have to do-”

“I’m sorry about earlier.” She nonchalantly says to you, causing your eyes to widen by a fraction. You quickly relax trying to not make the atmosphere as awkward as it was earlier.

“I wasn’t sure what to say because I think you’re very attractive. I’m not used to pretty girls trying to talk to me.” For the first time, you catch her looking down at the ground. Her hands folded in front of her chest.

“You think I’m pretty?” She lightly nods and your face warms up. “But you’ve only just met me. I’m sure there’s many other girls who are very pretty and try to talk to you.”

“Actually, I knew you before the party. You sit in front of me in bio class.” Natasha looks up at you again, her face is emotionless, making you unsure about how she actually feels.

“You…noticed me?” You’re surprised that Natasha Romanoff was more perspective than you and everyone else thought she was. You’re even more surprised that she’s admitting to admiring you.

“Is that creepy?” You hear a tint of nervousness in her voice and quickly ease her worries.

“No, not at all! I’m just. Surprised.” You’re unsure of what to do with your hands so you start to fidget around, trying to avoid her intense gaze. “What are you doing at this party then?” You finally break the silence.

“My sister urged me to come.”

“Who’s your sister?” Your curiosity peaks as you might be one of the first people to ever hold such a long conversation with her.

“I’m older than her but she’s more popular than me, her name’s Yelena.” Your eyes widen in shock. “Yelen Belova is your sister?!” She answers with a nod, unsurprised that you’ve heard of her sister.

Yelena Belova was a stark contrast to Natasha. She’s extremely popular for the parties she hosts and her easygoing attitude. Her social media presence is also astounding. She helps fundraise for the university racking in thousands of dollars yearly. Her influence on the school helps her escape from situations that normal people would be expelled for. She most likely played a big role in helping set up this giant frat party.

“You’re like, so different from her though.” You notice her apprehension about talking about her sister and decide to drop the topic. “I think you’re way cooler than her though.”

She smiles for the first time and it makes you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Can I…kiss you?” She asks for your permission and you blink at her unsure if you heard her right. “Nevermind, I didn’t mean to make this weird-” You’re the one to cut her off this time, taking her lips into yours. Her hands stay awkwardly at her sides and take initiative to place them onto your hips. You move your own hands down her chest, starting to take off her leather jacket.

You stick your tongue into her mouth and she pulls back, her face flushed. “Sorry, did I go too far?” You quickly apologize, moving your hands away from her jacket.

“No!” She yells a little too loudly. “Sorry, I meant. No. It’s just, I’ve never done something like this.” Her pale face is flushed and she’s already out of breath.

“Done what?” You question her further.

“I’ve never. Been with someone…intimately.” She admits quietly, shying away from your eyes.

“Oh. We can stop if you want.”

“No, I want to keep going.” Natasha’s hold on you tightens. You smile at her, feeling special that she trusts you enough to be her first.

“Well, tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” You pull away from her grip to start undressing yourself. You give her a show as you slowly unzip your bodycon dress. She stares at your body as your braless chest gets freed. She practically drools over your breasts.

You chuckle and get closer to her. “You see something you like?” She nods slowly, her eyes widening slightly.

“You can touch.” You grab her fists and relax them, lifting them up to your chest allowing her to cup them. When she starts to experiment by rubbing her thumbs over your hardened nipples, you exaggerate a moan causing her face to redden again. Her breaths come out rugged and heavy.

You lean in to capture her lips again, slowly moving your hands down to her bulge and lightly rubbing the hardon that protrudes out from her jeans. She whimpers in your mouth.

You pull back and start to kiss down her neck. She moves her head slightly to the right to give you more room to mark. “W-what if they kick us out for taking too long.” She barely gets her words out.

“Oh baby, youre Natasha fucking Romanoff. They'd give you all the time in the world.” You smirk into her neck and move your hands to start undressing her. She helps you out by removing her jacket and pulling off her shirt from over her head revealing her abs and toned muscles.

“Wow.” You whisper out. Now you’re the one to admire her body and she cowers under your gaze. You run your hands down her body to her covered cock.

You kneel down onto your knees slowly unzipping her jeans. Once they slide off, you palm her noticeable bulge forming a tent in her boxers. She jerks her hips up at your touch and she whines out, “Please Y/N.”

You decide to not tease her any longer and pull her boxers down. Her cock stands straight and pulses at the blood rushing through it. You slide your hand down the member and she groans at finally being touched. Your tongue swipes around her tip collecting all of her precum onto your mouth.

You moan at her taste before swooping in and taking her full length into your mouth.

“F-fuck.” Natasha’s hands go back to her awkwardly placing them by her side and you pull out to her disapproval.

“Guide me.” You place her hands behind your head. “What if I hurt you?” You chuckle at her.

“I may gag a bit but that’s only because you’re so big. I don’t want you to stop until my face goes blue and I’m crying. Use me like a fleshlight.” You smirk up at her and begin kitten licking her tip. She bites her lip slowly pushing your head onto her cock again. You can tell she’s nervous but with your words, she slowly moves your head back and forth more.

Her confidence builds along with her pleasure. The small room is filled with her grunts and the noises of your ministrations on her.

You stare up at her with doe eyes, drool running down your mouth. Natasha’s face is flushed and her eyes are hooded. She stares at you lustfully.

You start to play with her balls and maneuver your tongue so she feels even better. She contorts her face, “I’m gonna-”

She’s unable to finish her sentence as liquid floods into your mouth. You swallow every last drop until she lets go of your head with a pop.

“Fuck.” She says catching her breath as you clean off your mouth with your hand. After she calms down from her orgasm, the two of you get dressed.

“Where are you going?” She asks you while putting her jacket back on. “Home, you should come with. We have all of winter break to be together.” You wink at her before opening the door and walk through the people still sitting there, having abandoned the game and now just talking about plans for their break.

They quiet down, noticing the two of you walk through the crowd and out the door. Natasha follows behind like a lost puppy. “You think they noticed?” She whispers to you.

“Oh, they for sure did.” You respond as you feel the phone in your hands start vibrating with notifications from your group chat.

#﹔﹒ korro writes﹒ ෆ #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff

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igotanidea · 6 months

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Crawl back to you: Jason Todd x reader

Summary: Mexican!reader celebrating dia de los muertos, going throught the process of grieving after Jason's dead and her process of getting better through the years with a little plot twist at the end.

Thank you @thefandomdiaries07 - I played with the idea somewhat, hope you'll like it.

Disclaimer: this is not, in any way, a hate on religious belief, the reader's attitude just fit in the plot. (no offence to anyone meant here, truly)

***

Dia de los muertos.

Day of the Dead.

Despite her origin and upbringing Y/N never really felt connected to this celebration.

Remembering people who died and who she was too young to remember in the first place felt just … weird.

Of course, her mother, aunts and grandmothers got her involved in preparing the ofrenda and preached her about the importance of preparation for the souls’ arrivals but she always did it only half-heartedly, putting on a fake smile and pretending to enjoy the festivities.

But deep down she felt like a freaking hypocrite, while in fact not feeling anything.

And when her family moved to Gotham, out of all places, it got even worse. Poor girl felt conflicted, unaccepted, unsure of who she was and dealing with identity crisis, going as far as renouncing her ancestry to fit in the crowd. She was a teenager what else could you have expected.

Anyhow.

A few months passed and she got used to that god forsaken, lawless hole, keeping herself a bit away from her family, even if technically she was still living the same house. But with her struggles with ethnicity and traditions, she was a bit of a black sheep of the family, having not many true friends and spending most of the time alone,

recklessly wondering alongside the streets, pretending to be a freaking globetrotter.

And that was how one day she got involved with the batfamily, starting from being saved from an assault, by the Batman sidekick, Robin.

Jason Todd.

Whose name she learnt a few weeks later, having lost all the hope to see that red, green and yellow bird boy ever again.

However, surprisingly, those two clicked fast enough and even though they were technically still young teenagers something bigger than friendship started creeping in.

He kissed her for the first time when they were 15.

And it was magical, romantic and send her into a spiral of love and dreams and worries and thoughts about future.

It was pretty much prefect for a whole year, as they somehow managed to make it work despite being forced to keep their relationship a secret from both families.

Imagine the panic that would spread in her family if they knew she was in love with a vigilante.

Imagine the panic that would spread in his family if they knew he told his identity to a girl he fell for.

That was obviously a no go.

So they kept on meeting in secret.

Almost every night she sneaked out of the house to check out on him after patrol and he was escaping Batman’s watchful gaze to have at least a few hours together alone with .

But one night changed everything.

He went to search for his biological mother.

And she should have stopped him or tell him how reckless he was being or do anything to dissuade him from this idea. Instead she laid her head on his shoulder, holding onto him tighter, kissing his lips briefly and making him promise he’d report to her the second he gets back.

A promise he never kept.

***

“Hello? Who’s this?” she picked up her phone, blissfully unaware of the news that was about to fall upon her.

“Hey… um… is this Y/N?” an unrecognisable male voice reverberated on the other side

“Yes” she frowned “Who is this?” the girl asked again.

“My name’s Dick Grayson. I’m Jason’s older adoptive brother. We’ve never met but… I know you two were close…”

Wait. Did he just say were close?

“What – what happened…?”

The receiver fell from her hand, tears flooded her face and her heart broke in half.

***

His funeral was probably the worst day of her life, even though she couldn’t remember much more than the see of blackness, plenty of people she knew from Jason’s stories but saw for the first time and some meaningless words of consolations.

***

YEAR ONE

It had been eight months since his death and she was still grieving, unsure if the pain in her chest would ever subside or the tears would ever dry.

In that short time, she had become very close to Jason's brother, Dick, who was the perfect definition of an eldest child and had sort of taken her under his wing (pun intended). After everything with Jason and everything in between, she couldn't and didn't want to stay in Gotham, a place that was a painful reminder of the past.

Y/N took a different route every time she came across the places where they hung out or where they first kissed and where they secretly met at night and considering the fact that Gotham wasn't that big, it was slowly becoming impossible to move. And going to school and seeing couples and happy people was like a shot to the heart, making her a walking fountain almost every school break.

She felt a sudden need to get away from everything and moved to Bludhaven, where she started a new school and where Dick made sure she was safe and (as much as possible, meaning not much at all) happy.

It was October and dia de los muertos was right around the corner, of which her family was kind enough to inform her, inviting the girl to the family celebrations, and mentioning the resulting obligations of the living.

Making her angry at first.

Angry and with the sense of unfairness and stupidity of life. You’re there one second, enjoying the presence of the loved ones, and then, in another second you are just gone and it’s like you never really existed.

What was the point of life, apart from constant suffering and uncertainty of tomorrow?

This whole celebration freaking sucked, and she was not going to celebrate the death, having loved and lost the most important person in her young life!

But…

Once she got herself into that spiral of thinking, Y/N slowly started feeling something more than annoyance at her nation’s cultural habits, overwhelming depression and lack of any motivation to move on. Maybe…

It was the first time she had someone she knew to remember. And to hope that maybe, on this special day, his soul were walking amongst the living and watching her from the other side even if she could not do the same.

Maybe…

And if he was, maybe it was her only chance to somehow communicate with him, tell him all the words she kept hidden in her soul, that never found a way out. Perhaps from the silent beating of her heart he would feel the love that was still there, the longing, the needing and the fact that despite being gone, he wasn’t and would never be forgotten by her.

Her eyes grew wide and she jumped off the bed, gathering all the necessities and beginning her work.

***

“Y/N?” Punctual as always Dick entered the apartment, carrying the box with her favourite takeout. It was their Thursday tradition to have some good food and hang out together and he was not going to be a breaker. But he definitely did not expect to see his friend kneeling on the floor in front of something that looked like a tiny stairs, painted in red, green and yellow ending with an arch. It was decorated with something he recognised as salt, candles, water and marigold flowers. And the whole apartment smelled like lavender for some reason. “Y/N? What are you doing?” he put the food on the table, seriously concerned by her mental state.

“Oh!” she almost jumped at the sound of his voice, turning around to face him. “Hey, Dick. It’s just a little celebration.”

“Of what?” he frowned, not understanding a thing. “What is this?”

“ofrenda” she explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but his confused gaze made her realise that maybe not everyone were familiar with the festivity. “an offering.”

“An offering? Of what? To who? And why?”

Y/N almost rolled her eyes.

“I thought Bruce made you go the private school. Don’t you know anything about dia de los muertos?”

“I thought you were done with your national customs?”

“I was…” she sighed deeply reaching for the picture she was about to hang in her little altar. Jason, smiling, happy at some point back in time, that was never supposed to go back. She took the photo at one of their walks in the park in the autumn, with the sun shining and colourful leaves falling down from the trees. “but things have changed…” Y/N whispered, caressing Jason’s cheek on the photo, her eyes still shining with love and affection, but also tinged with sadness. “I miss him…”

“I know, Y/N. I miss that little prick too.”

“Yeah, he was a prick, wasn’t he? And an asshole, sometimes.” She chuckles as Dick sat on the floor next to her. “I bet if he’s around he’s annoyed at us bad-mouthing him.”

“If he’s around?”

“Yeah, the whole point of this day is that the souls come back to earth to visit us.”

“so it’s basically something like Halloween.”

“ more or less so. But cut the haunting part.” She smiled a little “We can’t see the deceased but we can feel them…”

“do you?”

“do I what?” Y/N frowned at his question. “Do I feel him?”

“Yeah. Sorry if it’s too soon or too bold thing to say, Y/N…”

“It’s not. It’s okay. I can’t exactly feel him, but it doesn’t mean he’s not here. We both agreed he was a prick sometimes, maybe he’s just hiding from me. Just to tease me. But that won’t stop me from calling upon him even from beyond the grave.”

She stood up and put the picture at the top stairs.

“Hey Todd, if you’re somewhere there, I’m not gonna go easy on you. See you next year, you little asshole.”

YEAR TWO

“Hey, Y/N, I dropped by decorating store and bought some things for your ofrenda this year, wanna take a look at them?”

YEAR THREE

You know, Dick, I’m not sure if Jason would appreciate us using the cape here….

“Your limiting my imagination….”

“I don’t care. I’m in charge. Remove it, now”

YEAR FOUR

Did you make the ofrenda without me, Grayson!?

YEAR FIVE

No way in hell she was going to let Dick take charge this year. For the past four of them he was growing more and more fond of the day of the dead, starting from assisting and doing shopping ending on going behind her back in finalising his own crazy concept. And finally, the tide had changed and Y/N had to put her foot down.

“What do you mean you want me to leave?!” Dick cried out the second she told him what punishment she chose for him “Y/N! Why?! It’s so unfair, I – “

“You hijacked my preparations last year. And two years ago. And to tell the truth, three years ago as well!”

“I didn’t – ok, fine…” he raised his hands in surrender “but you can’t blame me for that! It’s really fu-“ he stopped in the middle of the sentence.

“You wanted to say funny, didn’t you?” Y/N raised an eyebrow and Dick blushed a little. Maybe it was a bit inappropriate and unfortunate word to use.

“NO! No I wanted to say… um…” Dick was desperately searching for more accurate wording, also starting with fu, but obviously the alternatives were even worse.

“See that’s the whole point. You kind of missing the message of the day. Yes, sure, it’s supposed to be fun way to honour the dead and tame death in some way, but still it’s also supposed to be at least a little bit of an opportunity to stop for a second and think about things and people. I really appreciate your positive attitude and it’s not like I’m kicking you out, but...”

“but you do.” Dick smirked and nodded with understanding.

“I just feel like I need to be alone for a while, ok? It’s been five years and at his point I feel like I sometimes need to focus to even remember his face without a photo. It’s all becoming a blur, lost in the joy and amusement. And I don’t want that. I want to remember.”

“Is that why you never gave any boy any chance to –“ he cut out again without really thinking what he was saying.

“Grayson… “ she trailed warningly.

“I’m out! I’m out! Don’t hit me!” he rushed towards the exit. “Just call me when it will be safe to come back, ok?”

“Got it. Now get out!” she chuckled, closing and locking the door behind her friend.

Every little word she said was true.

She wanted to remember.

She had to remember.

It was the only way to fill that little dent in her heart, that Jason left when he died. She couldn’t just let go of him, even though Dick was probably right, and after so many years she should have moved on. But both her heart and her soul refused to do so.

Maybe you only get one chance to meet your soulmate and Y/N was close to sure that Jason has been hers.

”It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" she whispered the quote to herself while reaching for Jason’s photo she chose for this year’s decoration, turning them over in her hands for a while, looking at the face of a 15 year old she used to know “I wonder what you would look like now. Bet you’d be even more handsome and all the girls would be jealous I got such a catch.” She laughed a little “Hope you don’t hear me now, cause god damn, that would be such an ego booster for you.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” The sudden male voice coming from behind her made her jump (almost the mirror situation to the one that occurred five years ago when Dick found her preparing the ofrenda). But this time it was not Dick standing in her apartment.

“What the actual fuck!?” she yelled taking a fighting stance she learned from Grayson, knowing it would not help her at all due to the shaking of her body at the view in front of her.

“Handsome, huh?” Jason Todd in the flesh, absolutely not dead, brushed some unruly hair from his forehead, looking at her with a playful expression

“¡Estas muerto! ¡Eres un fantasma! ¡¿Qué está pasando?! Cómo –?“ as usual when she got nervous she started using Spanish. (you’re dead! You’re a ghost! What’s going on?! How-?)

“Baby…” Jason took a step forward, hesitantly. “Baby…” he opened his arms “I;m not dead, I swear to you. I-“

She cut him off by diving into his embrace, holding him tightly, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t just a friction of her imagination and needing to feel his warmth, the beating of his heart and his breathing.

“You’re really here!” she cried out, tears falling down her cheeks like a waterfall when she nuzzled into his chest. Honestly, she didn’t need any explanation, at least not at this point. She only wanted him close, afraid that if she let go for as much as a second he would disappear again. “Swear to me this is not a dream…” she muttered, against his shirt. “Swear to me.” Her entire body shook from the shock, she felt so small in his arms, but also safe as never before. It was like after five long years she got home again, that this missing part of her heart was found, and immediately jumped into the place reserved solely for him, unrepleacable. She was whole again and that was what count.

“Baby…. Oh, my sweet girl…” Jason wrapped his arms around her, caressing her back and hair, pulling her even closer, wanting to comfort her, to give her all that love and peace she was deprived of for what felt like ages. “I’m really here. I’m here. My baby… I’m back to you.” He whispered, closing his eyes, feeling equally, if not more emotional than her. He’s been through hell but the only though that made him keep on going was her. His angel. His joy. His only source of light in the eternal darkness that seemed to surround and swallow him. His grip on her tightened and he hoped to convey all these unspoken words to her through hugs and caresses and the gentle brushing of his lips against her temples.

“I love you…” she sobbed desperately, blurting out the only thing that was on her mind at the moment. “I missed you and I love you and –“

“I know baby. I love you too. And I promise you, you’ll never have to worry about hanging my picture in your altar ever again. Ever. I’ll crawl back to you every time and not even death can stop me from being with you. ”

And they just stood there, next to something that was supposed be an tribute to not-so-dead Jason Todd, holding and hugging each other tightly, creating the little bubble only for them two and being so very happy cutting out the entire world and reality, lost in daydream that happened to be the upcoming future for two people that have loved, have lost, and luckily, have found a way back to each other.

Talking could wait.

Silence, in the company of the only person that mattered, came first.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd angst #jason todd fluff #red hood angst #red hood fluff #dick grayson x reader

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frillycatlady · 1 month

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Angelic Pretty Strawberry Doll Coord for Spring

Angelic Pretty's Strawberry Doll might not be a crowd favourite among AP's Strawberry print dresses, but it's the ultimate all-rounder for me - perfect for cafe hopping, fancy dinners, or even frolicking in the park. Plus it's subtle and comfortable enough for travel and works well for dressy events like a work buffet (minus the twin tails, of course!) Anyone else out there have a favourite underrated print?

Dress: Angelic Pretty Strawberry Doll Handbag: Maison de Fleur Parasol: Whale Island KC: Vcastle Choker: Rose of Sharon Pearl bracelets: SL沈夫人原创手工 Black lace wrist cuffs: Haruhi Clover Wine red ribbon brooches: Handmade Shoes, shoe clips & socks: Sheep Puff

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whimsicalwritingsandmore · 13 days

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Chaotic Good | ateez x reader

Pairing: ateez x reader

Genre: drama, au, romance, revenge

Warnings: being pushed off a bridge

Word Count: 1442 words

a/n: hi! so, this is a random idea that came to mind a while ago. honestly, I'm not 100% sure the direction I want to take this yet. this is just a draft of what came to mind. as such, I would really appreciate your feedback on it!! Comments, reblogs, or if you'd like to PM or send an ask to give your thoughts would mean a lot to me because I like the idea, but I'm not sure where to take it/if it could get confusing. Thank you for reading! <3

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

Out of breath, you limp along in the tunnel, suppressing the shivers and fear that coils in your stomach.

Your heart is hammering in your chest erratically with dread twisting in your gut and your throat tightening with terror. As you came to a clearing, the sky above you were unnaturally dark with layers of gigantic and heavy dark clouds giving off an ominous and threatening feeling. The misty haze that surrounded you was like a veil bringing with it a feeling of menace and dread while the wind seemed to escalate in strength and rattled the branches of the trees. There was a flickering of white light bursting across the sky and in the distance, thunder rumbled like the echo of a drum.

Glancing around at your surroundings, you notice that you’re on a broken bridge with caution tape plastered across the railings. You’re battered and bloodied, your clothes torn and pain surges through your body - a searing and grating ache that causes you to grit your teeth in agony and close your eyes tightly. Your hair is frazzled and deep down, amidst all the anguish, you’re silently praying for someone to find you and save you.

Suddenly, a car approaches you, its headlight blinding you from seeing who it is. A figure steps out, beautifully dressed in contrast to you. Her high heels are a glossy black and her dress is an eye-catching and short blood red dress. Her neck and arms are adorned in beautiful gold jewellery but if you look closer, those jewels are yours.

As she approaches you, lightening flashes through the sky and cuts through the darkness like a camera flash while a thunderous echo brings forth a shower of rain that drenches the two of you in no time. Under the bridge, the sea boils and churns with crested waves hurling against the large boulders.

You were beginning to get delirious as the pain began to rob you of any rational thinking. With tears pooling at the rims of your eyes, you shallowly breath in a breathe before speaking to the person in front of you.

“Why?” You ask meekly, “Why are you doing this?”

The girl in front of you gloats evilly and as she steps right in front of you, she slaps you hard.

“They’re mine,” she sneers, “You don’t deserve any of what you have.”

Love, adoration, affection and respect. You have won hearts from around the world in an instant ever since you started your career. You are a part of the group Ateez and while being the only female member brought forth a fair share of criticism and controversy, many fans fondly regarded you for being yourself - your talent shining through every time you took the stage and it was inspiring to all those who would be in the crowd. All eight boys love you dearly, notably Yunho, who was the first to pursue you.

But the person on this bridge with you, who is supposed to be your best friend, the one you thought you could trust - is actually a wolf in sheep’s clothing - a snake in the grass. Initially, she supported you dearly but you noticed a shift in her behaviour after returning from the European leg of the tour. She began to flirt with your boyfriends and get extremely close. She would borrow your things and never return them, forcing you to ask back for it constantly.

When you confronted her, she accused you of jealousy and told the boys about it. They stood up for you but then, strange things began to happen. You found yourself in scandals one right after the other, the worst being when a news outlet got wind of one of Yunho’s deepest secrets that only you and the boys knew. As much as you tried to defend yourself, Yunho refused to look at you, and the next thing you knew, an article released an exclusive about Yunho and your friend, who were both seen together sharing a kiss.

Yunho contends it was a drunken mistake but to help bury the hatchet of all the sudden scandals surrounding the group, the company confirms the two of them are dating - that they have known each other for a long time and have begun getting to know each other more intimately. Heartbroken and devastated, you yell at Yunho seeking answers but all he tells you that maybe it’s for the best right now, if you didn’t create all these problems, he wouldn’t have to pretend. The others are torn and spend less time with you outside of practice.

And now, here you are, your friend Ara grabs your hair and pushes you harshly towards the broken railings. Your head begins to spin and you feel yourself moving in and out of consciousness. The colour was drained from your face, and fresh terror began to rear up within you. Your body was beginning to feel numb and you didn’t dare move as fear and anxiety eclipsed your thoughts.

“You won’t get away with this,” you cry out, “The heavens above see you for the monster that you are.”

“I already have gotten what I wanted,” she snips sharply, “And no one will take it away from me. Heaven would have to send someone better than me, and honestly? There isn’t anyone.”

Laughing maniacally, she pushes you hard and you feel the edges of the broken railing cutting your skin. Before you can even register what happens, you’re already falling. Time seems to slow down as memories of your life flashes across until you plunge in the deep, icy cold and roaring waters.

Thunder boomed throughout the sky, shaking everything to its core with the trees thrashing and writhing against the fierce winds while you sank to the bottom of the ocean, completely alone.

Goddess Persephone watches in anger and fury at the events that just occurred while her husband Hades remains pensive. Rage is thrumming through her veins and her irritation crackled with her temper sparking.

Many years ago when you were a baby, during the Spring Equinox, your parents, who were anthropologists, visited the temple of Demeter in Eleusis and prayed for your protection for years and years to come. Goddess Persephone was enamoured by your innocence and accepted you like her own, watching over you since then.

“This cannot happen.” she seethes.

“There is nothing we can do,” Hades responds, “Fata viam invenient.”

“No,” Persephone states, “That girl has haughtily challenged Fate itself. She believes she is higher than the Fates. I will not condone it.”

Hades sideyes Persephone recognizing the resolution in her voice.

“So what do you propose should happen?”

Persephone remains quiet for a minute before signalling a maid, “Find our daughter. Tell her she has a quest.”

Meanwhile, in a beautifully decorated, dimly-lit room, a young girl awakens from her slumber. As she stretches, she gazes around her room before slowly making her way out of bed. She drapes on her favourite ebony silk robe before exiting, taking the glass of orange juice that is already waiting for her. As she strolls down the golden hallway, those who are passing by bow before her. And then, a maid runs up to her.

“Your Mother wants to see you.”

Taken aback the girl responds, “What for?”

“You have a quest.”

“I don’t want a quest.” The girl states matter of factly towards her parents.

“Too bad. You’re doing it.” Hades responds blankly.

“Mommm, why are you sending me on a quest? Why can’t you send my brother?”

“Because Y/N, only you can fulfil this mission.”

Persephone gestures towards the crystal ball in the middle of the room. As she touches it, flashes of memories run across until the last one - the one at the bridge fades into the cloudy mist.

The girl is taken aback at the mistreatment you have incurred and turns to her mother with concern.

“She looks just like me…and she has the same name.”

“I named you after her. Her mother and father brought her to your Grandmother’s temple many years ago. You were born not too long after.”

“Why does she look like me?”

“The Fates work in mysterious ways so for that I cannot explain,” Persephone answers, “Nevertheless, we can use it to our advantage. I’m sending you to earth, you will take her place for now.”

“And do what exactly?”

Persephone turns to her daughter, an exact look-alike of you. Truly, it could possibly be considered a marvel to witness. The daughter of Hades and Persephone was an exact carbon copy of you.

Persephone smiles at her before declaring unapologetically.

“Seek revenge.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #poly ateez x reader #ot8 ateez x reader #poly!ateez

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sapphire-dreamsky · 5 months

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one name amongst a hundredth

inspiration: heavily inspired by The Hunger Games starring: ryomen sukuna | female reader pairing: sukuna x reader warnings: violence| death of minor characters setting: alternate universe | hunger games universe previous

It was one slip of paper amongst 100 others.

Sukuna stood amongst a crowd of boys dressed in white and grey. He certainly stood out with his pink hair and red eyes. In a sea of monochrome colours, he was the sun.

His peers feared him. His teachers disciplined him the hardest. He was different. And humans hated different people. In a class of thirty students, he was the black sheep. It didn’t matter how much effort he put in his studies or his projects. It would never be enough in a sea of grey and white.

And yet, there was no one else who could outmatch him in a game of wit. After a hunt, he would always bring back deers during winter; hares during summer. His skills were unmatched. But it didn’t matter at school. In class, he was a disturbance. The troublemaker. He could live with this title. He had four years left in school before he could start working. He didn’t know yet what he wanted to do. But one thing’s for sure, he wanted to do something ludicrous. He wanted to live comfortably. He wanted to provide (name) with a comfortable life where she wouldn’t have to worry about tomorrow anymore. He wanted to make every girl who dared mock her, be jealous of her; want to be her. And to do that, he needed money. He needed to make a name for himself. But not like this.

The Capitol’s representative, a woman with an interesting wig that most probably cost more than both his father and mother ever make in one month, dug her gloved coloured hand in the fish bowl; ruffled the slips to create unnecessary tension and stress. A permanent grin etched on her pink coloured lips. If (name) was by his side, he would have remarked that the lady was the very inspiration to the Red Queen in her favourite book. They would laugh at the comparison later on while stuffing their faces with those black sesame filling buns as promised under the willow tree. They would run across the meadow like children should, worrying only when the announcement for yet another game came. Until they both reach their eighteenth birthdays; both of their names forever disappear from the slips of papers in the fish bowl. They would get married when he would be twenty-four and working, and she would be twenty-two forging pieces of jewelleries to sell to those rich enough to afford. She would wear a beautiful white dress with the red ribbon he gifted her on her tenth birthday attached securely to her hair to make it apparent that she was his and he was hers.

He had a whole life ahead. He had so many things he wanted to do. He still had so many things he wanted to say to (name) still.

“Ryoumen Sukuna.”

Ryoumen Sukuna. The pink haired boy dissociated. It was one amongst one hundredth. What were the odds? Not in his favour that’s for sure. He watched blankly as the sea of monochrome clothed boys parted ways. He never felt more exposed than on that day. He could feel the relief on the boys’ shoulders. Their relieved sighs. Their happy stares because it was not them. The slip belonged to the odd one. The one who never belonged. He shouldn’t have been angry. He shouldn’t have been cursing them one by one in his head, wishing their day would come next year. Because if he was in their place, if another slip was drawn by those fucking ugly gloved hands by that damn Capitol representative, he would have felt relieved as well. It was a dog eat dog world. The bottom feeder was always fodder for the sharks. And right now, he was a bottom feeder as he was led by peacekeepers up the podium to join the crying female tribute to give a salute worthy to be broadcasted all over Panem.

“Sukuna!”

Red eyes widened. (Name) was scrambling outside the crowd of girls. Her arms were outstretched towards him. The peacekeepers grabbed at the hysteric kicking girl. He inwardly seethed as their hands dared to lay on her. But he knew, now that he was a player in the game, he had to be strong for the both of them more than ever. Less she becomes a target for the Capitol.

So, he turns around despite the peacemakers’ digging fingers in his back forcing him to walk forward.

“Brat. I will see you when I come back. Behave until I come back.”

Because he was coming back. With each step he took towards the grinning powder-covered representative, his resolve at surviving these games became stronger. His face became colder; eyes losing the innocent gleam he attended the reaping with. They were now replaced with a strong will to survive. No matter the cost.

“And we have here District 12's male tribute, Ryoumen Sukuna!”

Red eyes focused on the girl with the red ribbon being comforted by his mother. His mother’s face was long. Her tears wouldn’t stop streaming. His father put on his bravest face. But Sukuna knew that behind his façade was a man mourning for the death of his only child. His family was all mourning for him. But he wasn’t dead yet. He wouldn’t die yet. He looked down upon the faces of those he went to school with. Their faces all showed relief and happiness. Happiness that he would finally be gone. He committed each face to memory. His hatred for everyone will be his fuel to victory.

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna x reader

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xsister-serpent · 6 months

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Sickness Inside

Summary: A goth female reader!soulmate AU with the King Of Curses himself. Based off a character AI and this song (Kudos if you seen Queen of the Damned) I found MDNI 18+! Warnings: Blood, Gore, 18+ MDNI, Cussing,

What was supposed to be a normal night out soon turned to be a bloodbath. You had left my home to go to a goth bar hoping to find some sort of normality in your life. Being that your soul mark was that of the King of Curses your life had been on the run. Finding jobs whenever you could, saving every penny in case you had to go back into hiding. You never stayed in one spot for too long; that was your rule.

You hid your tattoos in a black turtleneck discreet enough for everyday wear. The pulsating music coming from the band speaker, the red lights glowing to the beat. You slowly nodded your head to the beat trying to lose yourself into the thrashing of guitars and the singer’s voice ringing into the dark club.

Why won't you die?

Your blood in mine

We'll be fine

Then your body will be mine

You felt it once more, a familiar lingering threat in the crowd. You glanced around the bar and stage looking for that face that haunted your dreams. There was a hard brush from behind you causing you to jump in startlement. Before you could get a word your mouth had gone dry in horror.

It was Him.

The king of curses smiled cruelly as he disappeared into the crowd of bodies unnoticed.

“No!” You gasped in confusion as you felt your soul mark slightly burn, “No!”

You saw him looking at the crowd with cold malicious intent like a wolf among sheep. That's when you knew what he was going to do. “Move!,” you urged, making your way through the crowd, “Move!”

You saw Sukuna watching the crowd as the red light pulsed around him. You tried shoving your way through the crowd not caring about the glares and vile comments from the concert goers.

“Sukuna stop!,” you tried to shout over the music, “STOP!”

His set of eyes glanced at you as his smile grew cruel with fangs. You were now within arm's length as you reached for his robe, only to miss it by a few inches.

“No, God, no," you spoke in terror, seeing him disappear once more.

Sukuna’s laugh echoes in the club, hoarse and deep. It makes your stomach turn into knots and sends chills down your spine. You try your best to shove down that feeling of continuous peril of his presence. Suddenly, you felt him inches behind you. Sukuna stepped closer.

His face close enough to your neck to be able to breathe your scent, “Have you finally given up the inventible sweetheart?”

There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes that unnerves you, like a game of cat and mouse. You turn your gaze away from him, unable to deny that you were, in fact, running from him. He can feel your fear... he revels in it.

“You end this madness, and you end it now! ” You defended with what courage you had facing him.

His voice became firm and sharp, as he spoke with a dangerous glint in his eyes, his lips pressed together firmly, “It’s time to stop running from me Y/N!”

Within an instant he’s gone from your sight. Your eyes scanned around the club searching for him frantically. There’s a blood curdling scream ripped into the air causing you to look around the club. Immediately there's more screams of terror ringing out through the bar with the smell of blood. Your eyes spot him from his hand, he produces a dagger. In the crowd, people are panicking, trying to run away or to hide somewhere, but some of them are caught by him losing a limb or a head, and he kills them right in front of you, showing absolute indifference to your terror. And after each killing, he smiles, a cruel, empty smile.

And he laughs.

"He's killing them. Jesus Chirst he’s -" You trailed off in disbelief. Immediately your flight kicks in and you push yourself through the

crowd running towards the exit. A smell of smoke and heat began to linger in the air, but the crowd was in mid-panic. You glance around the madness seeing patrons covered in blood and others some even as charred bodies. The club was flooded with blood causing you to trip over your own footing. With a hard fall you found yourself on the floor with a smack.

“Y/N..,” Sukuna calls out to you like a lover, “Y/N…”

Through the panic you stare off into the distance seeing only one still man. His blood drunk gaze finds yours and in that moment you can feel the whole world hold its breath in dread. With one finger he points.

Directly. At. You.

He approaches you with a calm and confident walk. For him, this killing is no more than a sport... and now he wants the main prize to have fun, to feel that euphoria of claiming something precious. Something a part of his soul he knew he desired, no, needed.

He moves through the flames unhurt with not a drop of blood on him. You feel his gaze on you.

Sukuna's eyes blazed with fire and his voice rose in volume, "Run."

With what strength you had you pulled yourself from the floor and bolted out the door. You felt the rain pouring down seeping into your jacket as your feet hit the pavement. You hear people screaming and running in terror along with far off sirens.

“Don’t look back,” you said to yourself, “Keep running, keep running!”

He's like a predator, just following his prey, walking slowly, but with no rush, with complete calm.

Sukuna smiled in the night air, "What a glorious game this will be beloved Y/N."

Part 2?

Author's Note: It's been a while since I posted any fanfic let's be honest. I've tried countless times to write and nothing came through till now. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna smut #this will have smut eventually #ITS BEEN A LONG TIME #Sukuna is kinda of meanie here

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aceofsnacks · 6 months

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I did a tour of GO filming locations

It was around London, so I didn't get all of them, but the trip has been such a blast I just have to share the pics!

1. St James park: so many birds! And tourists. Which is good because the secret government agents wouldn't be able to feed so many ducks. I saw pelicans too—they were huge and pink and funny!!

2. Berkley Square (they actually didn't film anything here, but still): it's a giant construction site now. The only birds I spotted were parrots, so many of them, at least 5 nests, and loud too. No sane nightingale would ever come there, this much is true. But the song is referenced on one of the bench plaques <3

3. The Ritz / The Criterion: they both look nothing like the restaurant in the show (maybe the Criterion changed since 2019?) But both are fancy! When my rich uncle leaves me a giant inheritance and I find my 6000 year soulmate, I am so taking them out there, just you wait.

4. The Globe: this is my favourite theatre now!!!Macbeth was magnificent! And the standing tickets were so worth it: actors were down in the crowd and interacted with everyone! I got some of Macduff's blood on me! (Can't get this anywhere else :D) The Globe is closed in winter, so I'm already planning to buy tickets for next year.

5. The Bandstand and the-place-where-Gabriel-was-running: after marinating on Tumblr for so long I felt shocked seeing the word "bandstand" on a physical sign in the park. Like, put up a warning at least, my heart needs to be prepared?? The actual bandstand was at the same time smaller and bigger than I expected. Also those red bits—apparently they were there the whole time; I was imagining it black and white for some reason.

Also I met another crazy fan taking pictures of the bandstand in the rain, and I remember thinking, they have to be just as crazy as me xD

6. Tavistock square (where they switched bodies): the filming crew must have moved the benches around, because the square itself is so tiny and you can only match the scene background if you stand all the way back in the bushes. Surely there must have been a better way.

7. Crystal palace: just as I suspected, you can't see the dinosaurs from the bench because of all the trees in the way. The dinos are hilarious though, they look more like🗿and not like 🦖. In the show Warlock seems to have written a rude word on the teleosaurus info card, how dare he!

8. Tadfield (Hambleden, really): I thought, it's just two hours from London, easy day trip, in and out, what could go wrong. Cue to me stumbling over muddy fields in the dark surrounded by menacing sheep and regretting everything. The village is cute and English and has literally three streets and a post office and nothing else. And sheep.

9. Bonus round, my take on Aziraphale's bookshop xD "Seducing women? I think you've got the wrong shop!"

10. Bonus bonus round, food! (am I or am I not the ace of snacks after all?) An oyster recipe from Marcus Gavius Apicius' cookbook (Rome, 1c CE, stumbled upon it in the museum of Reading), and Eccles cakes (soooo sweet they don't calm people down but give them instant diabetes)

And that's it!! Thank you for reading all the way <3 Here is a secret snack 🍎

#Good Omens #Crowley #Aziraphale #London #real life #good omens filming #good omens 2

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alicec-666 · 3 months

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"Elevator"

Something I've done for Chapter 17 of my fic right here because I have absolutely no clue how to get more people to read and share their opinion on it 🤭

P. S. Constructive criticism and/or the moments you liked or disliked the most in this work are always welcome ❤

#gravity falls #stan pines #stanley pines #stanill pines #bill cipher #possession tw #y/n #bill cipher x reader #archive of our own #ao3 writer #red sheep in the black crowd #I sound desperate and I'm sorry lmao #need more comments and thoughts on it to know if I'm going in the right direction #digital art #my art #alicec 666

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ranchracoon · 3 months

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Feathers and Blood (Mother Miranda x Fem MC)

The roar of the market is deafening, people haggling the price of spices and garments while blissfully unaware of the secrets lurking further in. In the furthest part of the market is a stand set up at the back of a wagon, the table is lined with various exotic items and dried meats hang from the doors of the wagon. The man behind the table is short and stocky, his belly protrudes from underneath his shirt, the buttons strain to contain the rest. He hands a customer a green bottle with a green cross in the corner and DISIFECTANT in bold, black letters across the top. He takes the money from the customer then turns his attention to an approaching woman, he combs his hand through his hair that is oily enough to power a car.

The approaching woman is tall, taller than any average woman with platinum blonde hair and piercing gray eyes. She parts the crowd with her presence, people give her a wide berth and dare not glance her way. A wolf stalking through a herd of sheep, each one hoping another is chosen as this day’s sacrifice. The man flashes her a friendly smile despite her cold, calculating stare unwavering as she halts on the other side of the table. She pretends to examine the artifacts in front of her, picking up an object to look it over before tossing it aside back onto the table.

“Miranda, pleasure to see you as always. What-“

The woman silences him with a wave of her hand but she still doesn’t speak, instead she glares until she sees him swallow nervously. She cocks her head to one side, wrapping one arm around her torso and resting her other on top of it. A dark aura surrounds her, the other merchants bring their dull roars to a whisper, sparing glances at the poor man about to face his doom. They’ve seen her before, whispers of the things she has done, will do, and has yet to do navigate this market quicker than fire during dry season.

“Duke. Do you know why I am here?” The woman asks.

“Because I have all of your needs of course! Have I ever failed to deliver? Everything you want, everything you need, I can get. What is it today?”

“You could not be more incorrect, I am here in regards to my previous purchase. You said, and I quote, ‘the most potent substance out there. Untraceable, undetectable, and can bring down a fully grown, bull elephant with a single drop.’ Does that sound familiar?”

“Ah yes, the Tetrodotoxin I remember.”

“Quiet.” She orders, “that pathetic excuse for a toxin could not kill a newborn babe. I intended to kill you when I arrived but I concluded I would not be who I am if I was not fair; so, I’ll give you a chance to remedy your mistake, then decide if I’ll still kill you or not.”

The Duke’s eyes flash for a split second with fear, he knows she is true to her word. His eyes dart to the other stands but none of the sellers look his way, this is business as normal. There’s a reason this street is nick-named the ‘red-bricked road’; there was a time when the stone was pristine, but now sports a dingy, dulled, red from the copious amount of death it has witnessed. He swallows again and tries to think quickly, he’s not one to give up money so easily so option 2 it is. He leans over and picks up the green bottle of medicine, sporting it in the air and flashing his best smile.

“This here is the world’s most powerful disinfectant. I know someone like you could benefit from it, no matter the ailment this will fix it. It’s not just a disinfectant but a cure-all for anything that ails you. The entire case, worth millions can be yours.”

A bead of sweat runs down the side of his face, Miranda doesn’t bother to look at the bottle but keeps her gaze on him. Normally he’s very good at reading people, seeing the wheels turn in their head but not her, she has as much readability as a statue. Then his worse possible fears come true, the tiniest sound, a groan from inside the wagon catches her attention. Any human wouldn’t have noticed over the murmuring of the crowds, but Miranda caught it instantly. Her attention targets the wagon, she straightens her head and tilts her chin up toward it, listening, and waiting. Duke stands there, unmoving and hoping she chalks it up to a simple creak, nothing more.

“What’s inside the wagon?” She asks.

“What? Nothing. Overstock, my laundry of course, maybe a few mice here and there. Some inventory, trinkets, nothing that would interest you and certainly nothing as valuable as this here-”

“You love to ramble when you lie. Now show me.” She interrupts.

He sighs defeatedly, setting the bottle back underneath the table before twisting to the back of the wagon and pulling the curtain back. The sunlight illuminates the interior to expose a woman with her ankles and wrists bound to the flooring. Miranda approaches the back and leans in to get a closer look; she must blink a few times to adjust to how dark it is for the woman blends in with dark flooring and walls. Her only clothing is a torn crop top, and pants with a tube going from her side into a familiar looking green bottle. Miranda scrunches her nose at the smell, it burns with every inhale and she brings her hand to her nose to block it out.

“Release her.” Miranda orders.

“With all due respect Miranda, she-“

The Duke didn’t finish his sentence before the air around him dissolves, he chokes and coughs to try and breath but there’s nothing there. His face turns purple before he drops to his knees and claws at the collar of his shirt, then in a split second the air returns and he sucks in a loud, gasping breath. After a moment of struggling he stands, reaches into his pocket to withdraw a key before heaving himself into the wagon. His weight causes the wagon to lean back and the woman flinches from the sudden intrusion, he pants and grunts as he unlocks the chains then shuffles back out.

“Come out here.” Miranda orders.

The woman stretches her legs, flexes her fingers and follows the order, she keeps her head down until she touches the edge of the wagon. She waves her hand blindly, looking for stability before settling on the wall to support her as she swings one leg after the other. Miranda watches the woman intently, seeing her clearly now in the sunlight. She no longer has the tubing in her side but there’s a very obvious scar where the tube was but no open wound. Her hair is black and matted, it shields her face from further view so Miranda reaches over to move a large mat aside. The woman looks up and Miranda pauses, her eyes are cat-like yellow in their entirety with two large, black irises. The longer she stands in the sun, the thinner they become until they’re thin slits, splitting the yellow down the center. She’s an inch or two shorter than Miranda, her skin is darker than any human with speckles of white around her fingers and eyes, she’s extremely malnourished but has visible abs and muscles on her arms.

“What’s your name?” Miranda asks.

“Inanna.” The woman answers.

Duke takes a cloth from his pocket to wipe the sweat away from his forehead when the woman speaks. Miranda’s eyebrow cocks for a microsecond before falling to its original place, if the woman’s eyes and skin weren’t enough then her voice was a dead giveaway that she is not human. Her voice is gravely, most likely from dehydration but it is also low and muffled like someone had put a pillow over a speaker. Miranda cautiously reaches out to examine the woman’s face but she startles back, her lips curling and causing her cracked lips to bleed.

Miranda retracts her hand then turns on her heels, “this will suffice.”

“You’re-wait, you can’t take her.”

Miranda turns to him warningly, making his swallow and simply nod in understanding as Inanna awaits further instruction. When Miranda turns back around she uses her index finger to signal for her to follow. She follows behind Miranda and stops when she does, Miranda doesn’t look at Duke and instead examines her fingernails.

“Tell me Inanna, what would you do to someone who conned you?” She wonders.

“In my culture the punishments are direct reflections of the crime. If I was promised something and given another, I would return the favor.” She answers.

“Hm.” Miranda responds, mulling it over, “well, Duke here promised me an extremely potent, and rare poison but instead gave me something as common as nightshade. So, I say it’s far I do something in return. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t care either way.”

“Hmph. You’re no fun.”

With a snap of her fingers, the street below Duke’s cart caves in and large, black roots engulfs the entirety before swallowing it below. The street restores itself as if nothing had been there, it happened so quickly that Duke didn’t even get the chance to scream before disappearing from sight. Inanna bristles, this woman is obviously far more dangerous than Duke ever was and perhaps it would be in her best interest to behave, or at least play along. Miranda and Inanna cut through the crowd once more, the nearby vendors, swindlers, and customers bow their heads in avoidance. Inanna contemplates running, but after the display she just saw, she doubts she’ll make it very far. The second they pass the threshold of the market place, a murder of crows flock around them causing Inanna to flinch away but she doesn’t get far before her back strikes a stone wall.

She looks around in a panic, her hands grasping behind her for stability and blinks rapidly to adjust from the brightness outside to a poorly lit room. At least this room has light unlike the wagon. There are anatomy pictures of humans, and various animals strung up on the walls and bookshelves filled to the brim that line the spaces in between; a large workbench stands off to one side with two tables in the center littered with things she’s never seen before. Inanna turns around to face the wall she struck, there’s floor to ceiling iron bars with only a singular stone pillar in the center. Ianna stepped back from the bars, on the outside she appears calm and collected but, on the inside, she’s panicking about being put into another cage. She should have ran when she had the chance.

“Can you read? Write? I know you can speak.” Miranda states.

Inanna looks at the woman, she’s now wearing what looks like a cloak made from feathers while walking around the room. Her face is covered with a golden bird mask that covers all but her eyes and hoops that reach to her collarbone, she has golden talons on her fingers that she uses to tap against a nearby counter. Inanna says nothing, instead opting to nod her head. She carefully examines her surroundings: she knows there’s a cage behind her, but she sees no windows but she does see a door. She has no idea where she is, how she even got here, and she’s far too weak to make an escape attempt now but it’s good to orient oneself. Although, if this woman can move about wherever, and whenever she pleases then Inanna has no chance against her.

“At least you’re literate. That’s something I suppose.”

Inanna takes mental note, this woman has no idea what she is and perhaps she can use that to her advantage. Inanna watches her pace around the room, anytime she moves too close Inanna scoots further away until she’s trapped herself in the corner. Suddenly a cloud of feathers rises and surrounds the woman, when the cloud falls the woman is gone with only the pile of feathers in her place. Inanna peeks out from her corner, scooting across the cold, stone floor she picks up one of the feathers and strokes it between her fingers. It’s been so long since she felt something this soft, she nuzzles it into her cheek before the woman appears once more. Inanna snarls and scatters to the nearest wall, clutching the feather to her chest in fear that the woman will take it from her.

Miranda kneels and places a plate with a cup of liquid on the floor, she then stands upright and takes a few steps back from it. Inanna and her stare at each other in silence, waiting for the other to make the first move but Inanna ultimately gives in. She slithers toward the food, crawling on all fours in a similar fashion to a monkey with a broken leg. When she reaches it she grabs the food with her entire fist and shoves it into her mouth then gulps down the liquid all within one go. Then she scurries back to her corner for safety, her eyes never leaving the woman as she does so. Miranda eyes the feather in Inanna’s hand but says nothing as she stands there, unmoving, if not for the shallow rise and fall of her shoulders with each breath then Inanna would think she’s a statue. After a pregnant pause the woman sighs forcefully.

“What are you?”

Inanna doesn’t answer.

“You can answer willingly, or I can force it out of you. Take your pick.”

“Excuse me for not being more forthcoming about myself just because you gave me food and water. Given my previous situation, I’m a bit cautious of the information I share and of your intentions. Also, I know nothing about you and you already know my name. It’s only fair that I obtain an equal amount of knowledge.”

Miranda narrows her eyes briefly, but Inanna cannot tell from the mask blocking the view. Miranda mimics the pose she had earlier, with one arm around her waist and the other tapping away at her chin.

“You can call me Mother Miranda.” She finally says.

“Pleasure to meet you Mother Miranda.” Inanna responds.

“I do not know what you are, therefore I do not have anything intended for you. However, once I figure that out, trust me, you will be the first to know what I have in store.”

“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”

“Then I guess I should extend the first olive branch and tell you that I did spike your food to knock you out so I could experiment on you. However, as you can tell, that didn’t work.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Doubt it’ll be the last.” Inanna retorts.

“If you won’t tell me what you are, can you at least tell me how you’re able to consume enough flunitrazepam to knock out a fully grown male without so much as a yawn?”

Inanna shrugs, “fast metabolism?”

Miranda huffs in annoyance, “very well. Be like that.”

Miranda disappears once again, leaving Inanna alone inside the enclosed room. She sighs heavily, although she wasn’t entirely lying about having a fast metabolism the drug that Miranda slipped her did, in fact, work. Not to its full extent, Inanna is coherent enough to at least try the nearby door: locked of course. Then she wanders into the cell to find a cot and curl up onto it with the feather still firmly in her grasp. She wakes to every sound, on high alert for any possible intrusion by Miranda knowing that once she finds out what Inanna is, it’ll be over. Perhaps she’ll keep her alive like Duke did, or maybe she’ll kill her. At this point, Inanna hoped for later.

After a restless few hours Inanna stirs awake to the softest whisper of a breeze, she flings herself up on the cot and flattens herself on the wall. Miranda stands in the open cell with another plate in one hand, a cup in the other, and something draped over the arm holding the glass. She sets the glass and plate on the floor, then tosses a blanket and what appears to be clothes onto the cot. She turns away and strides into the main room, shuffling around some paper and other various items before settling in one spot. Inanna sniffs at the plate curiously.

“It’s not drugged. Not this time. Don’t shove it all in this time, slow down otherwise you’ll choke. No one is going to take it from you.” Miranda states firmly.

Inanna picks at the food, her stomach betrays her hunger but she forces herself to eat it slowly to taste for any inconsistency. She drowns the water then scuttles over to the cot, she rummages through the clothing and begins to strip by taking her shorts off first. Miranda has given her some pants, socks, newer looking shoes, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. Inanna picks up a garment with two half cups and some straps, she’s never seen something like this before and forgoes it.

“So you’re a winged beast.”

Inanna whips around, throwing the shirt in her hand only for it to flail onto the ground pathetically. Miranda looks at it then Inanna who stands there shirtless but unashamed, Miranda kneels and picks up the shirt then holds it out. Inanna stands there, eyeing the shirt then Miranda before taking a careful step forward and yanking the fabric away.

“How do you figure?” Inanna asks.

Miranda says nothing and instead her feathered cloak transforms into six black wings that stretch themselves out until they hit the ceiling and floor. No longer in her winged cloak she is now in a long black dress with a white and black piece of fabric around her shoulders, she also has a golden halo behind her head. Inanna hisses softly at the sudden change but stares at the wings, they don’t look like traditional feathers; they look flowy, almost water-like while floating in the air and moving on their own. More importantly, Inanna wants to touch them very badly.

As suddenly as they appeared, they reform around Miranda and turn back into her feathered cloak. She stands there expectantly; she gave some information so now Inanna must give something up too. She ponders, how much can she reveal while still keeping her identity a secret. Instead, she’ll dance around the subject, she knows what Miranda wants now and she can give her everything but that.

“I do have wings, yes. My name dates back to the Mesopotamian era, and I’ve been told it was the name of the goddess of the sky.”

Miranda hums then leaves the entrance of the cell to return to her work, Inanna finishes dressing then pokes her head out. Once she determines that Miranda isn’t moving from her spot she creeps up beside her and slides the feather onto the counter top. Miranda pauses her work and eyes the feather, she chuckles under her breath then scoffs a little.

“What use do I have for a feather?”

“You gave me something so, now I must give you something. This is all I have.”

For once, Miranda takes pause. She picks up the feather and examines it, she has thousands of feathers but for some reason, she can’t help but stare at this one in particular. She tsks and slides the feather back to Inanna.

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“Thank you.” Inanna whispers before taking the feather back and holding it to her chest.

“You’re welcome. You’re being treated far kinder than I normally would treat the creatures I bring down here. By now you would have been cut open, examined, studied, and maybe I would even try the Cadou on you. However, you fascinate me more and, from how the Duke acted I would say you are very valuable, then perhaps you’re better off alive.”

“What is a Cadou?”

Miranda’s eyes flash for the briefest moment, “want me to show you?”

Inanna nods and the corner of Miranda’s mouth cracks into a smile before she turns from her reading and guides Inanna to a nearby cabinet. Miranda kneels down to open it and pulls out a large jar with a fetal looking mass inside. Miranda spends hours explaining what it is, how she created it, why she created it, and Inanna simply listens. Occasionally she asks a question that sends Miranda into another frenzy of excitement, it even gets to the point where Miranda brings out a chalk board and begins to illustrate her points. She shows pictures of past experiments which make Inanna tit her head curiously whereas most people find the graphic, surgical details disturbing.

“I see you’re not phased by human experimentation.” Miranda comments.

“Why would I? Humans are the reason my species is nearly extinct. Last I heard, there is only about five of us left. Including me.”

Miranda contemplates Inanna’s words carefully, so she’s a winged creature with extraordinary healing capabilities, and her species would be classified as extremely endangered. She changes the subject and proceeds to continue her lecture on how she created the Cadou, how she experiments with it, and most importantly, how she intends to use it. Inanna barely understands any of it, mostly because Miranda keeps using words like: gene, allele, autosomal dominate disorder, and other phrases that Inanna doesn’t know. However, she’s content listening to Miranda ramble on about whatever it is she’s rambling about. Duke barely spoke to her and when he did, it was often a command or order. It wasn’t until Inanna yawned that Miranda finally pauses, the feathers on her cloak rustle.

“Oh my…I’ve been talking at you all day. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Inanna eats her food given to her and Miranda bids her goodnight; now that she knows what Miranda is passionate about, she knows how to keep her occupied. Inanna asks questions, and over the next few days, or possibly weeks, it’s hard to tell with no clock or windows, Inanna and her fall into a sort of comfortable routine. At one point, Miranda unlocks the door to allow Inanna to use a bathroom instead of a bucket, and to finally bathe. Since then, Miranda hasn’t asked Inanna what she is, nor has she bothered to try and learn more about her. Anytime Miranda tries to flip the narrative, Inanna gives her generic answers or answers the question indirectly without giving too much away. Although, Inanna is slowly lowering her walls around the strange, bird woman because she enjoys how excited Miranda gets when speaking about her experiments.

Miranda caught on to how much Inanna enjoys feathers and slowly started leaving various kinds of feathers around her lab for Inanna to find. She sees Inanna stash them underneath her mattress and catches glimpses of her rubbing them against her face. Miranda briefly mentions her daughter, how she passed away and Miranda is trying to get her back. Inanna remains extremely quiet during this part, she fiddles with the bottom of her shirt while Miranda speaks but the conversation is short lived. Miranda doesn’t speak to her over the course of a few days and seemingly avoids Inanna altogether by leaving her food, water, and nothing else. When Miranda finally returns to the lab Inanna fiddles with a tube of green liquid, she holds it up to Miranda who hesitantly takes it.

“What is this?” She asks.

“My blood. You shared something very personal with me, it seems only fair I share something with you.”

Inanna doesn’t bring up her daughter again, but this act seems to appease Miranda and she goes to work studying the blood sample. It’s like no blood she’s ever seen, or been documented but it shares the same markers as lizards and birds do. Her white blood cell activation is faster than the speed of light which makes her immune to all diseases and why she didn’t react to the knock out drug. This is also how she’s able to heal to incredibly quickly, and why Duke was selling her blood as a cure-all. It still leaves her with more questions than answers but now she has a new hyper fixation: what is Inanna, and how can she be used to bring back her daughter? Sometimes Miranda forgets Inanna is there until she suddenly pops up and startles the priestess.

It seems her blood sample did more harm than good because Miranda has been obsessing over it for days now and growing increasingly more frustrated. When Miranda seems in an especially sour mood then Inanna reads one of the books on the shelves and sits in her little cell. Today Inanna is stir crazy. She’s finished all the books in English that line the shelves, she doesn’t know the other languages and instead opts for pacing back and forth. Miranda tells her to knock it off so Inanna finds something else to occupy herself which only irritates Miranda more.

“How about you make yourself useful instead of fiddling with everything like a child!” Miranda snaps out, her hands slamming down on the table.

“Just how do you expect me to do that?”

“Get samples or something. Either help me or get out!”

Miranda points to a tray of empty tubes, Inanna picks them up and looks between the tubes and Miranda. Slowly she backs away toward the door, careful not to drag her feet as she nears it. Every so often she looks at Miranda then the door, this has to be some sort of trick right? She wouldn’t let Inanna go freely. Hours pass and Miranda grows more and more frustrated to the point she flings the things in front of her onto the floor. She messages her temples and groans loudly then swivels in her chair to not see Inanna.

Panic sets in, as does the realization that she may have just allowed her most valuable asset to wander free. Miranda flies through the door, she checks every room she passes and every hiding spot in the area before she steps outside. She doesn’t make it far before she stops in her tracks, before her is a very, large rainbow dragon. Not like Alcina’s dragon; this dragon is more stereotypical with four legs, leathery bat-like wings, a tail that’s whipping around, and a gigantic head with two horns that stick up. This dragon shimmers in the sunlight, its scales mimic the reflection of sunlight on water giving it a translucent appearance; and it is currently rolling around in the snow like a dog. It throws itself onto the ground, scrapes its back into the snow then uses its tail to flick it up into the air. It then rolls back over, grabs scoops of snow and throws it into the air so it can prance around.

Miranda clears her throat as the dragon is in midroll in the snow, it freezes with its legs up in the air before it tilts its head upward to look in Miranda’s direction. They lock eyes, their golden ones staring back into her dull, gray ones. This has to be Inanna. The forest, once alive with the thumping and crunching of the dragon and the sounds of wildlife, comes to an abrupt halt. Inanna tilts her head and looks off into the distance, Miranda listens carefully but only can make out the soft crunching of footsteps in snow. The dragon flings itself to its feet, and arches its back up, their scales stand up like a cat fluffing its hackles or tail to appear bigger. In fact, the dragon mimics a cat perfectly from the way it twists to expose its side while maintaining the appearance of intimidation. Miranda covers her mouth to smother a laugh, what a sight to see a fully grown dragon with its scales puffed out.

Out of the forest wanders a lynx, it sniffs the ground before making eye contact with the dragon. It copies the dragon by arching its back, puffing its tail, and hissing loudly while the dragon curls up to make itself even bigger before it unleashes an ear-splintering roar. The intensity of it vibrates the nearby trees and makes the birds all take flight at once. The lynx huffs and retreats back into the forest, the dragon shakes its whole body to lower their scales then turns to face Miranda. Before her eyes the dragon shrinks, the wings fold into themselves, and standing there is Inanna.

“Well, that would explain the feathers.”

Inanna suddenly makes a sound that Miranda hasn’t heard in over a century; laughter. Inanna laughs hard enough that she doubles over while holding her stomach. Miranda raises an eyebrow then smothers another chuckle before settling and hugging herself from the brisk cold. Miranda sighs, she has enjoyed having Inanna around for she didn’t realize how socially starved she was. She could easily drag Inanna back down to the lab, force her to stay, and study her further. Miranda didn’t know dragons even existed, this would cause so many break throughs in the scientific community and possibly be the answer for bringing her daughter back.

Instead, Miranda returns inside back to her lab, leaving Inanna out in the snow to do as she pleases. She’ll probably come to regret this decision, that is until she hears the soft pitter patter of feet inside the lab. An object clatters next to her. A dragon scale the size of her hand shimmers even in the warm lighting. Miranda picks it up to look it over, then rotates to face Inanna who is twiddling her fingers.

“What’s this?”

“I read that crows like shiny things.”

Miranda can’t help it anymore. She throws covers her mouth to try and smother the snort she unleashes while failing miserably.

“Is this because of the horde joke?”

Inanna chuckles, “sort of but also, in my culture giving someone one of your scales is a sign of loyalty and trust because it exposes our underneath. You trusted me with your science stuff and your daughter, and you could have easily taken me even in my dragon form. Yet, you were willing to let me go. It’s only fair that I begin to trust you. I…I want you to have this one.”

Miranda holds the scale in her hand, “I see why you were hesitant to share with me what you are. Especially after giving me your blood, I could have taken the path Duke did and exploit you.”

“Yet, you didn’t. Even after you found out about my healing abilities, I’m sorry it causes you so much frustration.”

“Hm. Well now that I know what you are, all the pieces are coming together.”

There’s a long silence between them before Miranda breaks it, “where will you go now?”

“I…I don’t know. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“What about, other dragons?”

“I told you there’s only about 5 left including me. That was…years ago so who knows if they’re still alive or not. All I have is my memories but even those are beginning to fade. I haven’t seen another dragon since my parents died.”

“How old were you?”

“Mentally and physically probably around 6 or 7. I was raised in orphanages until I was raised in orphanages until they started to catch on that I didn’t age to the same degree then I was old enough to care for myself. That is, until Duke found me. You know the rest.”

“You’ve been without parents…for how long?”

Inanna shrugs, “I lost count after 70 years.”

Miranda watches Inanna and reads her body language, how shy and upset it makes her to talk about her parents. Miranda and her are not that far different from each other. While she’s been without a daughter and failing at every turn to find a suitable host, there has been a young woman out there without a mother for close to the same amount of time. Miranda places the shell onto the counter next to her then stands from her stool in front of Inanna before she opens her arms with the palms facing out. Inanna looks her over, her initial reaction is to run but forces herself to take step after step until she hits Miranda’s chest. Miranda wraps her arms around the girl and tightens until she can’t tighten her hold any further.

“Thank you.” They whisper to each other simultaneously.

#resident evil village #re8 #mother miranda #men and minors dni #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda x fem mc #mother miranda x fem oc #mother miranda & fem mc #mother miranda & fem oc #one shots

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majesticwren · 7 months

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fallingforyou (MJF x OFC)

following this post this concept is now a fic, sorry not sorry. I'm struggling trust me. (help me)

Trigger Warning/s: slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, depiction of toxic relationships, intimacy and commitment problems, childhood traumas, jealousy, possessiveness, hints of physical and verbal abuse, bullying, hints of anti-semitism, everyone is a walking red flag, angst, fluff, smut.

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Chapter 2.

Ten Years Ago

Stella was dancing to one of Ke$ha's songs, enjoying having a night like any other teenager. It was part of her prerogatives: enjoy the party like any seventeen-year-old, get drunk and forget about her life.

She wasn't even supposed to be out but escaping from her house right under her parents' noses was the easiest thing in the world. Sometimes she wondered if they even cared at all or if they purposely made it easy for her. Maybe they just didn't like her to be around. Not when they could focus all their attention and affection on their golden child, her sister. Why waste energy on the black sheep of the family?

Fuck them, she thought. Fuck them all. She wouldn't have wasted time in that town for long anyway.

Only that thought made her giggle. And then she giggled some more realising that the alcohol was finally making her feel silly and light, as if she was floating above her problems. It was also making her feel dizzy and slightly nauseous, but that was part of the game.

She stumbled on her own feet as she danced and losing balance made her stop, as she was suddenly aware of being extremely uncoordinated. The booze was definitely going to her head quickly. Maybe that was the risk everyone always talked about.

As she tried to focus on her surroundings, Stella spotted an opened window in the back of the room facing the back garden. Nice, she thought, maybe she needed some air. Another giggle escaped her mouth.

Only when she stepped out of the crowded house, did she realise how hot and unbreathable the air was in that concentrated room. She welcomed the crispy cold air with a twirl.

The partying was starting to take a toll on her. Or it could be the alcohol. Most definitely it was the alcohol. Either way, her feet were hurting in her uncomfortable high heels and her ears pounded with the echo of the loud music playing. One problem was easily taken care of since outside the music wasn’t so loud, whereas for the first, well, that was as easy as kicking her damn shoes off. Stella left them behind, enjoying the tickle of the wet grass on the sole of her feet. The ground felt solid, cold and so pleasant it made her want to breathe in the world.

She stumbled across the empty garden and almost tripped over a couple of times, not entirely able to focus very well in her scarcely lit surroundings as if the shots of tequila she downed like water didn't have anything to do with it. She giggled to herself, somehow finding that thought funny.

Stella found an empty sunbed by the pool and dropped heavily on it. She wondered briefly if the pool was still accessible but quickly reminded herself it was almost November. It couldn't be.

Stella raised her eyes into the night sky. A placid smile crossed her lips.

The stars were pretty.

She didn't even feel the cold seeping under her skin. She quite liked it actually.

Another giggle left her chest.

"Be careful not to fall in the water."

She gasped and sat up straight, feeling like she was just caught doing something wrong. “What?”

“The water. Must be cold.”

Focusing on the person’s shape stepping closer to her, it took her only a second longer to recognise him. A warm smile quickly spread on her lips. “Max!” She welcomed him gladly, raising a hand to him. As soon as the boy slid his fingers across her palm softly, Stella giggled and gave him a pull, just because she wanted to have him closer. “Come here,”

Max sat on the sunbed by her legs, not opposing her wish and not letting go of her hand. It was easy to forget how a direct contact like that made her feel. Her heart was fluttering, and adrenaline roared through her veins, igniting her nerves. His skin was always so warm sometimes it was impossible for her to stay away.

It must have been the booze though, surely.

“Give me your other hand,” he suggested softly, and Stella didn’t refuse him, doing what he asked without even thinking. He kept her hands safe, caging both in between his large palms. “Your hands are cold,” he began, raising their tangle of fingers to his mouth only to blow some warm air on her skin.

She giggled at the sensation, shaking her head. “Not anymore, silly.”

Max’s eyes slid across her body. “I don’t know how you manage to bear these temperatures in that minidress.”

“It is not that cold.”

“Stella, where are your shoes?”

She vaguely pointed to the door she came out of, not even bothering to make sure she mumbled the right words. She was all smiles and giggles the moment she caught Max looking at her, “This is a good little dress,”

“I’m sure it is.” His eyes floated on the high cut of her tight skirt, which Stella didn’t miss, even with her senses being blurry. She followed his eyes with her hands only to play with the helm of her skirt. Her decency was blurry too. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” his eyes shot back on her face, “me and about the entire school football team. The swimmers’ team. I suspect even the chess squad.”

Stella chuckled, giving him a soft push. “Stop it. Don’t tell me you are jealous.”

“I am.” Max leaned in, getting so close to her face that Stella thought he would kiss her. For only a moment she let herself hope for it to happen. How would have it felt to finally feel his lips? But that thought came and went as soon as she realised he was only being his usual, sarcastic self. “Everyone knows you are my girl.”

Her heart creaked but Stella had to compliment herself, she wasn’t showing any of her heartbreak even despite being tipsy.

She was his girl. But she wasn’t allowed to be his girl in the way she wanted to be. In a way that it was forbidden for her to wish to be. They did everything together and she was the guardian of his deepest secrets, fears, and confidences. But his girlfriend was someone else.

Her problems didn’t stop there though. Being his girl meant that all the boys in high school wouldn’t dare to get close to her. She hadn’t been on a real date with kids her age yet. Her parents had tried to set her up a couple of times, but she wouldn’t even consider those older men they tried to hook her up with. Those didn’t count.

“I am not your girl,” Stella giggled tapping her index on his nose, “you have a girlfriend, and she is inside.”

Max rolled his eyes and then he slipped out of his football jacket carrying the colours and crest of their high school, placing it over her legs. Just then, feeling the warmth trapped in the heavy material of his jacket touch her exposed legs, Stella had to admit she was, in fact, cold. She wouldn’t have said that out loud though. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“You are drunk.” He stated. He was serious but not angry or judgmental. But then again, Stella wouldn’t care in the slightest if he was. She lowered herself back to lay on the sunbed, slipping a hand off his hold just to hint with index and thumb that she was, in fact, a little drunk. The giggle that followed gave it away more than her signals though.

“I should take you home.”

“No, no,” she whined tugging at him to get closer, “I don’t want to go home just yet.”

“But it would be the responsible thing to do.”

Stella pouted and instead of paying attention to his words, she tried to get a grip on his t-shirt, just so she could pull him closer. Suddenly she was eager to feel his warmth, greedy to have him as close as she could.

Max gave in with a sigh, “Scootch over,” Stella happily did, leaving him some space to lay next to her and then she was happy to snuggle on his chest. Max welcomed her with no objection, and then they both lay there, looking at the stars. “Only five minutes, ok? Then we are going home.”

“I don’t want to go home. I don’t like it there.”

“Who said I’m taking you back to yours?” Max smirked, “You are coming home with me and then tomorrow morning you can convince my mother to make pancakes. She loves you too much to say no to you.”

“Deal,”

He chuckled in response distractedly ending up playing with a lock of her hair. Her head was spinning but she wasn't sure anymore it was only the booze. She liked being between Max's arms, but that was a secret she wouldn't allow herself to feel when she was sober. Another giggle escaped her lips.

“Wouldn’t your girlfriend hate you if you left the party earlier?” She was still grinning, nuzzling on his chest, as if she had something to prove.

“No more than how much she would hate seeing I’m with you.”

“Oh, yeah, right. We aren’t supposed to be talking, are we?”

“No.”

A sad sigh left her chest. She may have been drunk, but she knew what it meant to almost lose him for good. All thanks to his jealous, possessive, stupid, pretty girlfriend who couldn’t take the idea of him spending time with his best friend. Not that Stella could entirely say her worries weren’t justified, but it was still annoying.

“Why?” She wondered, her question dropping right out of her thoughts. Stella pinned herself up just enough to look at him in the eyes, falling right through those warm, brown irises.

“Why what?”

“Why can’t we just ignore all these stupid rules? It’s me and you after all. I don’t want to let boyfriends or girlfriends get in the middle of us.”

“I think it’s inevitable.”

“But why? Can’t we decide how we want it to work for us?”

“I suppose.”

She laid back down, nuzzling into his chest. “Me and you are more important.”

“Yes,” he hugged her and softly kissed her forehead, “I agree.”

“Promise me,” she mumbled against his chest.

“What?”

“Promise me no one will get between us.” She looked back up at him, “No girlfriends or boyfriends, no family or friends, no husbands nor wives, jobs or lives.”

Max smiled softly, “I pinkie promise.”

Present Day

“It’s going to be fine; I am sure of it.”

“Mh. I am not so sure. Plus, I really don’t want to go.” She pulled a pout, squeezing herself into the car seat.

Stella held her phone to her chest, hugging it like she wished she could have done with the man on the other side of the line. Hiding between Maxwell’s arms would have been much nicer than the cold, empty alternative.

“Sit there and whine about it won’t make it go away, babe.”

“Thanks, Friedman, that’s exactly the motivation I needed.”

“Sorry,” Max’s hoarse giggle spread from the phone straight under her skin and to her stomach. It was a sound extremely familiar and generally encouraging. Though now she fought against its calming effects. “I thought you wanted to see your sister,” he continued.

“I do.” Stella paused sighing, “It’s her stupid friends I don’t want to see.”

“Ah, fuck them. They are just envious; you know how it is.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well,” she briefly fiddled with the edge of her long scarf, “I don’t like them, and they sure don’t like me. Did I tell you about how ancient they made me feel the last time I had to go to one of these things? I couldn’t understand half of the words they used.”

“Yes, you mentioned it bestie.”

Stella ignored the way Max’s voice suddenly ended up being a higher pitch, as he mocked the younger generations' lingo. She knew he was trying to lift the spirits but the only thing she could think about was how she dreaded the idea of having to spend the afternoon surrounded by a small hoard of twenty-year-old bridesmaids assisting an extremely young bride-to-be to her dress fitting.

“And let’s hope my sister didn’t invite Mother to come along again. The way that woman can always manage to make me feel a complete failure without even trying very hard. The way she looks down on me it’s enough.” Stella rolled her eyes, “So, Stella,” she started mocking things that had been said to her on previous occasions pushing out a lower-pitched voice pretending to be as posh as possible, “how does it feel to watch your younger sister getting married before you? You know what they say, the clock is ticking.”

Max huffed on the other side of the phone. “And I suppose the fact that you have a degree, a career, sit on a fat pile of money and figured it all out on your own, differently from them who has daddy’s money, doesn’t count?”

“Oh, Friedman, what are you even talking about? What’s a career compared to being a trophy wife staying at home mum shooting out babies?”

“You’d be a lovely trophy wife.”

“I am smacking your shmuck face, Maxwell.”

He giggled again. “Fine, c’mon, what else? Get it out of your system now so then you can wear your big-girl pants and go do your maid of honour job.”

Stella immediately switched back to her twenty-years-old persona “Oh, is that your dress for the ceremony? You should get your season palette checked out.”

“What the fuck is a season palette?”

“Uh,” Stella leaned against the side of the door, sighing. Her day wasn't even halfway done, and she already felt exhausted. “There’s a theory for which certain colours fit your skin complexion more than others. So, it was a complicated way to say my dress is shit.”

“I’ve seen you in your dress, you are hot, forget them.”

“Just do me a favour, shoot me?”

“Sorry, can’t do that. I can try to get you out of it earlier if you like though?”

“No. Please, don’t worry. Don’t you have that thing shortly?”

“What? The interview? Please, I am MJF after all, I can make them wait if you want me to.”

“No, I don’t want you to. How about we all put our big pants on and go do this thing?”

“Fine, put the phone down then.”

“You put the phone down.”

They both just waited silently for a few minutes and as Stella listened to Maxwell's silence on the other line, a small smile grew on her lips.

“See? You can’t get enough of me.” He laughed.

“Shut up, Mr thing, I just don’t like hanging up.”

“Sure.” Stella just knew he was smiling in that extreme way that made his cheeks blush slightly. “Are you gonna watch me tonight?”

“Of course! I’d never miss it.” Her heart fluttered only thinking about it. But then a shadow covered her heart. “Greg will have to deal with it.”

Stella could have told Max about the accident in the park. He knew everything about her life after all, and yet her tongue was tied.

Greg’s voice still echoed in her ears. She heard it repeatedly. “You little whore”. It burned in her pride and made her blood bubble up violently, but at the same time, it just switched her off completely.

Max didn’t need to know such a thing. She knew him well enough by then to know he would have gone ballistic for something like that. Men that had disrespected her in the past had regretted it and she didn’t want that to happen between him a Greg. Not because she cared about Greg, but because she needed him around. And she also knew what advice Max would have given her. Advice she needed to remain deaf to, at least for now.

“Greg can suck my fat cock if he doesn’t agree with it.”

“Maxwell!”

“What? How does it happen that you date a guy that doesn’t like wrestling?”

“He doesn’t like you.”

“Same thing.”

Stella chuckled but before she could reply to Max, a knock on the window distracted her. She gasped, looking over. “Hold on,” she told Max as she lowered the automatic window to her sister’s friendly face.

Jenna was always full of smiles. She was a creature made of sweetness and everything good. No emotion could ever be hidden on her face and at that specific moment, she was glowing, as happy as ever. After all, that’s how a bride should look like a week before her wedding.

Stella would have died for her sister. She was grateful to be so close to her. Jenna was about the only member of her family that she kept in touch with and would have never pushed away. Stella was so proud of the woman she had become and all of her choices; and she liked her future husband enough to have never opposed the idea of her sister getting married at only twenty-one, despite how harsh her opinions on the matter might be.

“Hey, stranger!” Jenna chirped, offering the widest of smiles as she hooked her hands on the car window, “What are you doing? We have been waiting for you!”

“Tell me that we don’t include Mother and I’ll come without opposing.”

“You are in luck, she was kept.”

“Oh, thanks fuck,” Stella praised, causing her sister to giggle.

“What were you doing?”

“Sorry, sis. I was on the phone with Maxwell I hadn’t noticed the time.” It wasn’t true. She had noticed the time just as much as she had seen the group of bridesmaids gathering by the shop doors, but she had chosen to cosy up in her car and pretend to be late.

“Oh? Max? Is he still on the line? Hi Max!”

“You are on speaker,” Stella suggested leaning closer to her phone.

“Oh, well then, hi Jenna! How are you?”

“Good, thank you, what about you?”

“Ah, you know, great but always busy.”

“Yeah, Stella mentioned these are busy weeks for you. Don’t overdo it and make sure you look after yourself!”

“I will do.”

“Oh, alright then.” She giggled not even trying to hide the blushing on her cheeks. “Next time you are in town you must drop by; I would love to see you.”

“Uh,” Max released a soft huff, “I will try my best but if not, I’m definitely looking forward to seeing you Friday.”

Stella froze and squeezed her phone against her chest as if she could stop Max from talking forward, but by that point, it was too late, Jenna was already freaking out.

“Oh, my God, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Oh. My. God!”

“Stella didn’t mention?”

“No,” Stella cut through their talks glaring dangerously at her phone screen just as she would if Max stood in front of her. “I hadn’t mentioned, bye Friedman.”

She coldly hung up not giving him the space to reply in any way. She knew it was harsh and her chest ached thinking about it, but she also knew she had to find a way to survive her sister’s hectic behaviour. She would have fixed things with Max later.

As soon as Stella slipped out of her car, her sister was by her side giggling and jumping around like crazy. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? Oh my god, I can’t believe it! Oh, I must tell John immediately.”

“Jenna, calm down.”

“I can’t calm down! Max is coming to the bachelorette party!”

“Only dropping by for a quick drink.”

Stella ignored her ecstatic squeaks to briefly check her phone as they walked to the shop.

She ignored the ten pressing messages Greg left on their chat, knowing she didn’t have the time or patience to pay attention to him.

They were supposed to meet that night for a dinner date since she had been so busy for the past week, but after what happened earlier that day she was tempted to cancel. He did call her a whore after all, she was supposed to be infuriated. Instead, Stella chose not to care. It could have gone either way and she would have survived. She went through enough breakups by then to know the drill. The only reason why she was keeping up with that prick was her personal vendetta at the wedding.

Fucking despicable even for her.

Instead of paying attention to Greg, she opened the just-arrived message Max sent. “Sorry kitten x”. A soft smile grew on her lips, and she quickly proceeded to type back. “You certainly aren’t. Good luck today, call me later? x”

“So, is he coming to the wedding as your plus one or-”

“Who’s the plus one?” By then they were close enough to the shop and the other bridesmaids had flocked by their side, picking at their conversation.

Feeling exposed, Stella rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “No one.” She turned towards Jenna, forcing her to stop on her feet. “Greg is my plus one for the weekend. Max is coming only to the ceremony because you invited him.” Somehow it was fundamental she specified that.

“I thought he would be busy with work next week.”

“Yeah, he was. There had been a last-minute change in the roster, so he now has the weekend off.”

“Why?”

“His partner got injured.”

“Not Adam!”

“I’m afraid so,” Stella shrugged, shaking her head, “he’s fine though, I promise.”

“Who are you talking about?” Wondered one of the three girls surrounding them.

All three of them were extremely beautiful girls, unafraid of showing it off, and so it was for their wealth and privilege. They were the kind of girls who would have a twice-weekly appointment with a beautician, keeping their nails, lashes, and make-up always in check. Trips to the hair salon happened on a regular basis, just as it would be with being treated at the SPA. They were slim as ever, wearing the latest trend style of clothing and fancy stylists' names, showing off how they were part of that inaccessible world made of big money, massive mansions and expensive cars.

A world so cruel and so cold Stella could only hope they would realise it before it was too late.

Stella hated the person she would become standing close to them. They were everything her family had once wished her to become. They were a reflection of the woman she was supposed to grow into. Therefore, she hated them with every fibre of her being. It wasn’t their fault. But looking at them triggered a hidden part inside of her, made of all the emotional trauma she had to survive ever since she was a child.

Rebelling to her parents' wishes and daring to find her own way had caused a fracture in her family. It was the reason why she wasn’t ever invited to family events. Her father hadn’t spoken to her once in ten years. There were no pictures of her around her parents’ house. Most people didn’t even know that there were two daughters as heiresses to their family empire. And the ones who knew also knew never to ask about their older daughter.

The only person that Stella didn’t condemn was Jenna. She managed to follow in her footsteps just enough to develop her own personality, but she didn’t rebel against her parents’ rules as much as Stella did. In a way, Jenna also got out, in the end. She was lucky enough to desperately fall in love with a decent man who respected her and who was wealthy enough to be accepted by her family.

Stella hadn’t been that lucky – but also, she didn’t want it any other way. It was history. She made it out. And she didn’t want anything to do with them. After spending the good part of the past ten years studying psychology at college and criminal law at Stanford, she was hired by one of the most prestigious firms in New York City. She had her own empire to look after now.

Not bad. She had often to remind herself her worth was self-made and that she deserved to walk around with pride.

That was her sad, pitiful story. If one wanted to dig into her intimacy issues, probably the way she was brought up and what she went through was the root of it all. But, at the same time, it wasn’t that deep or farfetched.

Being distracted a second, Stella didn’t have the time to hint to her sister to shut up that Jenna was already chattering away. “You know how Stella and I are friends with that big-shot wrestler I told you about?”

“Oh, yes! What’s his name again?” Said one.

“Urgh, wrestling is for losers,” added another, to which Stella promptly sent a dangerous glare.

“No, I think wrestling is hot! Most wrestlers are hot anyways with all those muscles,” said the last one, receiving an equally dangerous look from Stella.

She didn’t know if she rathered them thinking Max was hot or a loser. Either way, she rather them not think about him at all.

“His name is MJF, and wrestling is definitely hot, we grew up with it,” Jenna sent Stella a cheeky look, “did you know my sister trained for years too? She used to be a wrestler.”

“That was a long time ago, Jen.” It was a reminder both for her sister and for herself.

It had been almost ten years since that time. Since her almost-debut. And there hadn’t been a day that went by that she didn’t miss it desperately.

It was weird, she didn’t miss the drunken crowd or the small victories in the minor events she would get to wrestle. She missed the small things. Like how the squared circle of that place smelled like piss. Or the bruises. Or how the small gym smelled like burned tobacco because their first trainer was a bitter man who saw his career come to a stop because of a bad injury, and who was unable to be anything without a lit cigarette in his fingers.

Stella was quick to push aside those thoughts before guilt and regrets would take over and clutch at her chest.

It didn’t matter anyway. The other three weren’t listening to them, they were all looking at a shared phone screen, making gasping noises.

“Oh my god, your friend is hot!”

“Wouldn’t mind getting a piece of this loser.” Mumbled the same one who disliked wrestling.

“What did I say about wrestling being hot? Look at his muscles!”

All three giggled to each other.

“I just know I am ready to become such a slut next weekend,”

“Is he tall? He looks tall.”

Stella rolled her eyes, grumbling loudly. She didn’t like them talking that way about Max. Not because she was in any way prude or didn’t get exactly what they were on about, but because she was beyond protective with him. She was possessive. Even when she didn’t have any reason to be. Or right. “Are you all quite done? Can we go do what we came here to do?”

“Oh, fuck, what is it? Uncovered nerve or something?”

“I am just busy and on a schedule. Sorry to burst your bubble ladies, I need to be back in Manhattan by six tonight.”

“You aren’t staying for dinner with us?”

And get to witness how a normal evening went between a healthy, happy couple? She was ready to opt out without even thinking about it. Even when it was her little sister looking at her with her doe eyes. “Sorry sis, I’ve got plans with Greg.”

“Oh, ok, fair enough.” Then she leaned closer to her friends, “Girls, by the way, Max is out of bounds to all of you, alright?”

“What!? No way!”

One of them even stepped closer and posed. “Look at me, I am young and beautiful. I totally have a chance.”

“What? Ugh, I said no. I grew up with the guy.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you are related or anything.”

“What the bride says goes. And I said no, this is a rule, you guys stay away from Max.”

“But-”

“Ah-ah,” Jenna shook her head raising a finger into the unhappy faces of all her closest friends, “my word is law for the next seven days or so.”

It wasn’t just a friendly warning like any “my best friends are not allowed to date my big brother” kinda thing. It was a clear waving of all sorts of flags so they all would know that Maxwell was simply off limits. Or, at least, that’s how Stella perceived it.

No one questioned Jenna, even if Stella was ready to bet a leg they weren’t to be trusted. More than that, though, she wanted to make sure no one would have suspected what Jenna had said was actually aimed towards Stella’s best interest. None of the girls surrounding them seemed to catch what hid between the lines of her sister’s words though. But it was more than enough for Stella not to miss it.

Maxwell was off limits for anyone but Stella herself. And, at the same time, ironically, they were something that could never be.

She was so used to that thought to be able to ignore completely the ache carving deeply through her chest. Stella longed for something she had forbidden herself to desire or love for so long that she managed to become immune to it. Or at least, pretending that was the case came very easy.

“C’mon guys,” Stella started, hinting at the door, “why don’t we get this thing started? Let’s order a bottle of champagne as we enjoy my sister giving us a runway show, my treat.”

All the girls ecstatically howled, finally getting back on track and on with the plan.

Stella sat on a small booth in the corner of the spacious changing room. From the other side of the thick curtain, she could hear her sister’s friends giggling away as they waited to be shown Jenna's dresses drinking champagne, whereas she had the privilege of the exclusive.

"So," Jenna started hopping out of her clothes. "How’s things?” She distractedly stood in front of the mirror, checking herself out in her white lingerie, before starting to fix her hair. “We never get the chance to chat now you’re a big shot criminal lawyer!”

Stella didn’t miss the look her sister sent her through the mirror. She knew her sister didn’t mean it that way, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty. Had she been absent or distant? She sure hoped not.

"There's not much to say, you know? My life is pretty boring."

Jenna chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "You live in the Upper West Side and are basically a millionaire.”

Stella huffed, “I am not a millionaire,”

Jenna ignored her completely, “The other week you posted a story about casually being at a Valentino runway afterparty. And before then it was what? Some exclusive Broadway premiere? And your best friend is one of the most acclaimed wrestlers in the world." She paused briefly, a smile curling her lips, "You know what was the top of my week? Today is the top of my week. Tell me again how boring your life is?"

“Today is a pretty special day!” Stella tried her best to appear as convincing as she could even though she knew exactly what her sister was trying to say. “Some would say you’re going to take the most important decision of your life in this room.”

Jenna’s silence and the look she sent Stella through the mirror were enough of an answer. “C’mon sis, give me something! Tell me how exciting New York is!” She was changing over her earnings to a pair made of pearls and fine diamonds that matched the pins keeping her hair up. Stella assumed that was the look she would have had for the ceremony next Saturday.

A soft smile popped on Stella’s lips. “OK, first of all, I need you to know all those things you listed do not happen to me naturally. In a hundred per cent of the cases, if something out of the ordinary happens, it’s Max creating situations.” The silent look Jenna sent her through the mirror, accompanied by a little smartass smirk, was unbearable. It slid right under her skin and made her feel seen. She wasn’t stupid, she knew exactly what her sister was thinking.

Maxwell and she weren’t dating. Never had. And yet they were so used to going out together and seeing each other all the time. It wasn’t news how Max liked to spoil her either with things or experiences, more than he would do with a partner. Out of the ordinary for people who were supposed to be only friends. It had been the particular reason for a fracture in many relationships both Max and her had. But that’s just how things were between them and never once they considered their behaviour wrong. It was everyone else around them who had a problem with it being wrong.

And still, even when all was so obvious and she was fighting to make it seem as normal as possible, Stella still felt so uncomfortable she needed to change position on her booth and hide behind her champagne flute. “And anyways,” Stella cleared her voice doing her best to deflect the attention, “New York is only an hour away it’s not like you never go.”

“Oh? So, I shall come visit next week.” Jenna’s usual bubbly energy washed over her. She smiled to herself in the mirror, nodding like her decision had been already taken.

“What? Before Thursday?”

“Yeah!”

“Thursday the day we are all going to meet up for a long weekend of activities and celebrations for your wedding.” Stella was sarcastically pretending to be extremely ecstatic about it all.

Only thinking about spending three-something full days in Plainview, in direct contact with her family made her want to puke. Though Stella couldn’t back off. She would have never left her sister alone among those people.

She didn’t even want to know how much her sister had to fight against their parents to get Stella invited, which was exactly the reason why she would have never said no. Even for stupid stuff like the Thursday morning meeting brunch, or the Friday afternoon tea for the ladies and golf session for the boys.

Still, worth it to make her sister happy.

“Yes!” Jenna repeated chuckling.

“And then we are going to the big city for your bachelorette party on Friday night, right?” Stella pointed at her ironically as the two exchanged a look through the mirror.

“Yeah, dummy,” Jenna threw her arms to her sides, “what if I want to see you alone before I get married?”

“Ok, fine!” Stella gave up, “just tell me when you are free, and we’ll organise a dinner date or something.”

“You tell me! You are the busy one,”

“Right,” Stella pretended to look at her phone pushing out a posh tone, “my secretary will get back to you.” They both giggled.

Once Jenna had done fixing herself, she approached the curtain, hiding behind the corner. “I’m ready,” she hinted to the outside, to which point a woman entered the changing room carrying a rack full of filled-up dresscases.

“Hello to you darlings,” she didn’t sound from those parts. Her accent was still warm and charming. “My name is Sophia and I’ll be helping you today.”

Stella welcomed her with a polite smile, as they both watched her placing the dresses in the back of the room and then proceed to close the curtain.

“So,” she turned towards Jenna with a big smile on her red-tinted lips, “are you ready to see them?”

Jenna squeaked and nodded, barely containing her excitement and then they proceeded to start the fitting session.

“Ok, let’s continue our chat,” Jenna started while Sophia helped her get into the first dress, which was a typical princess-like dress with a wide skirt and a tighter corset that had about a thousand buttons on the back. “You don’t mind, right, if we talk? I never get to see my sister,” she wondered looking back at Sophia.

“Not at all, miss. You pretend I’m not here.”

Jenna smiled proudly, looking back at Stella. “Tell me about this new boy you’ve been seeing.”

“Ah, Greg,” the unenthusiastic sigh that left her chest should have been enough of a hint to what she thought about him.

You little whore. Those words still echoed in her ears, both making her blood roar and letting her feel more detached than ever.

She hadn’t fought him as much as he deserved for what he had said. Not only that. He deserved to be annihilated and surely didn’t deserve to receive any of her attention further on. But Stella brushed it off like it was nothing.

Come Sunday evening, just after her sister's wedding, Greg would have become nobody to her. She just needed to hold on until then.

Was it pathetic for her to think she rather have spent that absurdly long weekend next to a man she despised, than doing it alone?

“He’s ok I guess; you know? We are still very new.”

“What?” Jenna dropped her arms, sending her sister an inquisitive look, “Stella! Where are the fireworks and butterflies? That is not a suitable reaction! I don’t want to know this new guy you are seeing makes you feel so miserable!”

“What!? It’s not like that! I’m just getting used to things.”

“You should be over the moon already, boo.” Jenna started and the way she studied her sister’s features made Stella feel so uncomfortable in her own skin. “If that’s not the case why losing time?”

Stella choked.

She had decided. Why would she lose any time anymore? After Greg, she would have stayed on her own. To recover. To maybe put her priorities in order. To maybe get a long-ass vacation away from everyone and anyone. Maybe even Max.

She shrugged. “It is what it is. He’s a good guy.” She lied, only because she couldn’t phantom anything else to say that would explain why she decided to stay with a man that made her feel nothing.

“What does Max think about the guy, then?”

As soon as his name was mentioned a smile curled on Stella’s lips even before she could think about it. And Jenna didn’t miss it either. “He doesn’t like him,” Stella chuckled, shaking her head, “But then again, he never does.”

“There!” Jenna pointed at her, “That sweetness and warmth, the way your eyes tenderly moved away as you thought about Max, that should be how you feel for Greg!”

Stella knew Jenna didn’t mean to be judgmental. And probably wasn’t. But she still felt like she was completely exposed and had to justify herself. She felt like she had to pull her big lawyer pants and defend herself in front of the toughest jury ever.

Instead, only a tired sigh left her chest, “Jenna don’t start.”

“Why? Am I wrong? When are you two going to-”

“I said don’t start.” Stella shot her sister with a dangerous look. She didn’t want to be harsh but was too tired to deal with anything her sister had to say. “I don’t need your opinion on this, OK? I am with Greg. He’s going to be with me at the wedding and we are all going to be very happy. Understood?”

“I just don’t get why you would sabotage your own happiness,” Jenna ignored Stella’s warning look, “You clearly don’t like this Greg guy. Not as much as you like Max anyways.”

Stella downed her champagne, looking away. “Max and I are friends.”

“Sure you are.��

“Please, Jenna, I am asking you nicely, drop it, ok?”

The longer Jenna looked at her in the eye, trying to find the answer to her words into her eyes, the more Stella felt the need to put distance between them.

Running away from that entire conversation seemed so sweet. Maybe she could have run away from her life entirely. Maybe then questions and assumptions and all the reasons why her life was unfulfilled would have stopped getting her.

Sophia tapped on Jenna’s shoulder softly, “You are ready to go miss,” the woman pointed at the mirror so that Jenna could look at herself.

Just then, Stella's attention dropped on her dress.

She forgot about their conversation as soon as she realised her sister was, in fact, getting married. She wasn't a kid anymore.

A tender smile appeared on Stella's lips as she got up and walked closer to Jenna. "You look stunning,"

Jenna looked at herself in the mirror, running her hands on the big skirt of her dress, smiling at Stella through the reflection. "This was my favourite last time. It just needed to be fitted."

"I think you look gorgeous in it."

Jenna smiled and then rolled an arm around Stella, dragging her into a small hug. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

Stella leaned her head on her sister's shoulder, sighing. "I know. I wish you were wrong." Sadness clutched over her chest, but Stella was quick to silence it coldly. She could have pretended everything was fine and Jenna was, in fact, wrong, for a bit longer.

Max didn't make her happy. Not that way. She didn't need him. Everything was fine as it was.

"But please, let's not talk about it anymore."

"Ok,"

Stella looked up and they both smiled at each other, holding hands.

If there was someone she couldn't lie to, it was Jenna. She had grown to see how close she always was with Max, and it wasn't the first time such a conversation had popped up. But that didn't mean that Stella was ready to face any of it. Not now nor ever.

“Now, let’s show this dress to your girls.” Stella smiled, “They are going to lose their shit I tell you.”

Before anything could be done, Jenna pulled her in a hug. At first, Stella felt uncomfortable, hoping not to rumple her sister’s dress, but she only needed a second to relax against Jenna and hug her back with more intent.

And then their moment was shattered.

The curtain was abruptly opened as someone invaded the space in the fitting room.

“Ma’am,” Sophia moved immediately, trying to stop the invader. “This changing room is taken, ma’am, perhaps I could redirect you,”

“Please,” the woman who entered the changing room raised a hand into Sophia’s face with pure disdain. No care or politeness was offered. “I am her mother.”

Hers. Not theirs.

Before anyone could say anything, Jenna automatically moved in front of Stella, trying to deflect the attention. “Mom, I thought you wouldn’t be able to make it today!”

“Why? Disappointed?” The disgusted look she sent in response wasn’t directed to Jenna, obviously. “And you, shame you made it.”

The smile Stella reserved for her mother was detached. “Same to you, mother.” Calling that wasn’t at all out of affection. It wasn’t even because the woman standing in front of her was the one who gave birth to her. Stella did it out of spite knowing her mother hated her to call her in a way that would make them appear related.

The woman twitched. “You didn’t have anything better to do?”

“I wouldn’t have missed this moment for the world.”

“We’ll see,” She whipped out a sharp, cruel smile. Her mother's soft threat sounded as poisonous as ever.

If Stella had to endure being scrutinised under her mother’s cold gaze a minute longer, she felt like she would have screamed. She felt uncomfortable under her own skin like she needed to hide and fight at the same time. Unable to pick which. Unable to move. It had been not even five minutes, and she already needed a hot shower to get rid of the slimy sensation of all her childhood traumas being triggered.

She hated being there. She hated having to remember what it meant to be part of that family and where she came from. All the abuse. All the manipulation. All the attempts to fit her in a box too small for her spirit. And all her desperate fighting. But then, Stella looked over to her sister and remembered why it was worth it.

Jenna offered a peaceful, soft smile, mouthing sorry towards her, to which Stella quickly shook her head, trying to alleviate her guilt.

She could only hope this dress she picked would be the one.

“You look so beautiful,” Stella started, placing a hand on her sister’s shoulder, unafraid to show her affection to her even in front of her mother.

“I think the dress could be improved,” the woman started, sending Jenna a cold look as she studied her figure, “you should have got on that diet that I’ve suggested to lose a bit of weight.”

“Mother,” the gentleness Jenna had for her mother surprised Stella. If it had been her on the opposite side of that conversation, she would have bit her mother’s head off. “I won’t starve myself, plus now there’s nothing we can do, this is my size.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, honey” fake smile, “it looks really pretty, just not on you. I am wondering if maybe another one could-”

“It isn’t you getting married, Mother,” Stella snapped, “would you mind letting Jenna choose the dress that makes her happy the most?”

“Sometimes happiness is only a childish hollow hope. Duty, that is the real thing.”

“And you would know so much about duty, wouldn’t you, mother?”

“Stop it,” Jenna posed herself in between the two women, “both of you. I can’t stand this.”

Stella really wanted to be the bigger person. She really wanted to drop it and be able to rise above everything for her sister’s sake and yet there was something in Jenna’s behaviour that suddenly slashed through her. Hurt exploded through Stella’s chest and trying to keep it inside and controlled seemed impossible.

Maybe it was selfish of her, but Stella was suddenly angry at her sister. Why wouldn’t she ever pick her side, for once? Why would she hover in the middle between her and their parents without ever picking a side? And hers was the only right side since the ways she had been hurt. Why was that not a factor important enough for Jenna to just send their mother away in order to maintain her sister's well-being?

“You know what?” Stella started, shaking her head, “I will go.”

Jenna turned towards her. “Stella, no, please,”

“Let her go. It’s what she does best, after all.”

Stella rolled her eyes to the ceiling but didn’t grace her mother with a reply. She didn’t deserve it. Instead, she reached to grab one of Jenna’s hands, giving her a shake. “I am sorry. Truly. I will call you, ok? We’ll organise for next week, ok?”

“Stella, please stay.”

She was deaf to her sister’s plea. It was running away or risking having a crisis. And she had too many plates spinning at the moment to risk falling into a bad place.

Stella didn’t even know how she was supposed to survive an entire weekend around those people if five minutes had proven to be her max.

“Can’t.” Stella shrugged, “Sorry sis.”

Before she could dash, Jenna dragged her into a hug that Stella couldn’t refuse, even if Jenna herself was someone she wanted to run away from at the moment.

“But you look amazing.” Stella made sure to repeat the compliment to her sister, just to boost her confidence, God knew she needed it. “This is the one, trust me. Don’t listen to Mother.”

Jenna held her for a moment longer, before letting her go. “Call me later, ok?”

“Will do.”

Stella grabbed her bag and then faced her mother, who was standing right by the door. Behind them, in the central room, Stella could clearly see Jenna’s friends focusing on what was happening, trying to listen in.

She coldly looked back up at her mother, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to let me pass or are you trying to trap me in here?”

“You know that one day you won’t be able to run away anymore?”

“Why, do you actually want my company, Mother?” Stella raised her chin proudly, “Let me go and enjoy spending some time with your daughter.” Stella smiled sharply, “I can only hope one day she will realise what a monster you are. Then she will leave too.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, aren’t you quite done with the theatrics?”

“I’ll be done when you let me go,”

Her mother sighed and then moved to the side, crossing her arms to her chest. “Fine, keep avoiding your problems, Stella. But you can’t deny we are your family forever.”

Stella froze. A shiver crossed her back. She knew her mother didn’t mean any of it. Her only purpose was to kick her off the edge and send her spinning out of control.

“You haven’t been my family for a long time, mother.”

Stella sent a polite nod towards Sophia, who was still standing in the room. Good God, poor woman, Stella didn’t even want to know how horrible her mother would have been with her as soon as she was unleashed. And then she turned one last time towards Jenna, sending one last look over to her sister, a sad smile popped on her lips, “I love you, sis, I’ll see you later.”

#mjf #maxwell jacob friedman #maxwell jacob friedman x OFC #mjf x ofc #mjf x reader #mjf aew #mjf smut #mjf fanfiction

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artsyunderstudy · 8 months

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9 People You Would Like to Get to Know Better

Thanks @prettygoododds @aroace-genderfluid-sheep and @nausikaaa for the tags!

3 ships - Snowbaz, Stolitz, and Ineffable Husbands

1st ever ship - I don't really remember, maybe Val and Ravus from Valiant by Holly Black. I guess I've always been a fan of monsterfucking.

Last song - One Crowded Hour by Augie March because @rainbow-0bsidian mentioned it in a comment on Someone Wicked. It's very good.

Last movie - Red, White & Royal Blue I think, I haven't watched a movie in a while. It's been all Youtube video essays for me recently.

Currently reading - Honestly in the middle of a dry spell with reading but I am following some excellent WIPS. Here's some I read recently and fucking love:

boulders turn into sand by @facewithoutheart inaugural by watfordbird33 Depth of Reason by @you-remind-me-of-the-babe The Trails We Blaze by @j-nipper-95 (The Trails We Blaze is the closest thing to a book because I'm beta reading and there's like 60k of it!!! And I'm not done. It's so good guys please hop on it.)

Currently watching - Helluva Boss. I have brainrot.

Currently consuming - A croissant.

Currently craving - This coffee I'm about to slam.

Tagging @iamamythologicalcreature @cutestkilla @rainbow-0bsidian @ebbpettier @nightimedreamersworld @fatalfangirl @facewithoutheart @shrekgogurt @hushed-chorus

#tag game

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gothgril69 · 9 months

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Levi Ackerman/Fem!Reader Royalty!AU

Summary: You dream of another life, a simpler one under the rays of the warm sun, where you find love and your brothers live happily.

But you're destined to serve, to be the black sheep of the family and married off to whoever your father pleases because your parents can't seem to harbor any love for you. Your brothers will serve in the war, side by side with their Chevaliers, and you'll be left to pick up the pieces or die trying.

And the one you thought always hated you, will be right by your side to catch you when you fall.

Overall Warnings: themes of sexism, minor character death, angst, depression, minor character death, smut (please check ao3 for all tags)

Chapter warnings: mentions of sexual activity between others, mature themes, MDNI

Chapter Length: 9.4k

ao3 link

God, you look beautiful. Levi can’t stop staring at you even if you’re not facing him from where he stands between the balcony doors. The dress Isabel had embellished with silver fits your figure so perfectly, cascades down your curves and stops just above the ground you gracefully stand on. He has no idea what you could have possibly been worried about – you look like the perfect Queen.

Levi has always known you were a beautiful woman and especially so once you grew into womanhood and the two of you got older, but when he saw you in your bedroom his heart felt like it stopped. The elegant corset you wore pushed up your breasts enough that your cleavage could peek through the sheer fabric covering your chest, the silver embellishments cupping the underside of them perfectly. Your blushed cheeks and red lips had his heart thumping again when you had met his gaze in the mirror, turning around to face him.

And now as he stares at your back as Erwin prepares himself to announce you as the kingdom’s new Queen, he surprises himself with the urge to make sure that your nerves are not getting the best of you. You were meant to be Queen and while he hates the idea of so much pressure being laid upon your shoulders, he knows you can handle it and can only hope you realize your true potential as well.

“Queen Aeron Reader,” Erwin announces, voice booming over the loud cheering of the crowd that has gathered below the castle’s main balcony.

It’s overwhelming, the amount of people staring up at you as you give your best wave to the crowd. You turn your body to Erwin and he plucks the tiara off your head to replace it with an ornate silver crown off of a navy blue pillow that’s being held by Hange. It’s interesting receiving your crown from the military command of Mirlenas, but appropriate given the current status of your nation. The crowd cheers louder once the crown has been placed upon your head and doubts of your nation’s approval dwindles down inside you.

You raise your hand, a signal for the crowd to quiet, and they obey immediately – it almost startles you how silent the air becomes. You steal a glance back at Levi who is standing back in the doorway of the balcony and try not to think about how Furlan should be next to him, or how much better your brother would be at annunciating his voice, but you try your best.

You clear your throat. “People of Mirlenas,” your voice carries further than you thought it would, clearer than you were anticipating and it gives you newfound confidence. “I understand I am not what you expected to witness when you would attend the coronation of a new King or Queen, but I pledge my heart to you. I have no doubt my brother would have done an excellent job if he were here, but I also have no doubt that I will be the Queen you need; the Queen you desire. I hope you welcome me with open arms and I hope you feel the love I have for my kingdom in the way that we will inevitably prosper.”

Its short and sweet – the crowd below erupts with cheering, chants of your name echoing against the castle walls, and an actual smile graces your features. You weren’t lying when you pledged your heart to them – you would do anything for your kingdom.

You wave one last time and turn to make your way back inside. Erwin and Hange follow suit while Levi turns so he can walk by your side – you’re glad he’s given up his post behind you. “That was a great speech,” he compliments quietly. Erwin and Hange linger by the balcony doors as Jean and Marco close them and you turn to Levi.

“Thank you,” you mutter. “I think we should gather in the meeting hall. There’s plenty I’d like to discuss and I need your input.”

He blinks, processing what you’ve said. “My input?”

“Yes? Why would I not want your input?”

“I can’t imagine my input being of any value to you.”

“Well then it’s clearly worth more than you thought,” you state simply and turn towards Erwin and Hange. “I’d like to go to the meeting hall to discuss some things that need to be put in place, and I need input on what the rest of my kingdom struggles with.”

You glance between Jean and Marco, and Sasha and Connie that are standing at each entrance. “The four of you are dismissed, thank you. Have the kitchen staff prepare dinner before the ball and please help yourselves to what you want.” You see Sasha’s eyes in particular light up and it makes you smile.

“Thank you, your majesty,” she chirps excitedly and you receive a jumbled thank you from Jean, Connie, and Marco. You simply give them a nod and watch as they exit.

The four of you make your exit as Levi holds the door open for everyone before he makes his way back to your side – you’re starting to feel more comfortable with him being there – and head towards the meeting hall. You’ve just become queen, but you felt as though it is your duty to help your kingdom as much as possible. They needed to be fed properly, given the shelter they needed, and no one would live in poverty. You know Levi lived in poverty as a young boy before he was made a Chevalier and you value his input on how you could help the most. Erwin and Hange would know more about what the citizens would have to say about the royal family and could hopefully aid in what your kingdom needed.

You take a seat at the head of the table, a feeling foreign to you but seemingly appropriate. You’re pushing through the taxing efforts of ruling a kingdom, already feeling the fatigue of being around so many people considering how solitary you’ve been for the past month. Erwin takes a seat on one side and Hange next to him, Levi stands awkwardly to the side before you gesture to the chair next to you where he hesitantly takes a seat.

Erwin glances at Levi and then back at you. “What can we assist you with?”

“I’d like to know how to help my kingdom,” you start, fidgeting with some of the silver detailing on your dress. “I think your opinions are the most valuable and you can tell me what I need to do. I’ve been… sheltered most of my life and have only lived here. I haven’t seen the rest of Mirlenas like the three of you have and my parents were never ones to educate me on the standings of our people.”

“Alright, Aeron,” Erwin chuckles and you smile at him for respecting your request for him to address you by your name. “The majority of Mirlenas is fine. They prosper for the most part, the exception being a tough winter. I believe you’d be able to help by providing grain for the winter to ensure livestock survival. As for the more impoverished areas I believe Levi would be able to be of more assistance.”

“This is why you wanted my input?” Levi questions you immediately, a scowl on his face. “It’s shit. You’d have to do a lot.”

You look over at him and frown. “I value your opinion regardless of your upbringing, Levi,” you mutter. “It’s helpful that you’re able to give me insight into a firsthand experience, but I did not ask you to be here simply because of that. I asked you to be here because I wanted you to be.”

He clears his throat and it doesn’t surprise you when he doesn’t acknowledge what you’ve said. “The people barely eat, they barely sleep in fear of violence. You would need to feed them and provide secure shelter, but it would be hard to eliminate the crime without involving military force,” he hesitates before continuing. “The people there are used to fighting to survive by any means and some won’t be overly keen on ending their violent ways.”

“I can provide military force if you are in need,” Erwin suggests.

You frown down at the table. You don’t want to use military force. You want to help, but it bothers you that some people would not be willing to exchange their violent ways for the assistance and security you could provide them. You look up at Levi. “We will do what you think is best,” you tell him. He knows how they will react and what will get through to them the most.

Levi’s mouth opens and immediately closes when Erwin begins speaking. “There is the more pressing issue of Zeke. We must travel soon and I fear that you will not have time to do what you are wanting to do here before we must go. Unfortunately negotiations must be made in person before it is too late for the Jaeger family.”

You know he’s right, but you can’t help but groan. “You are absolutely certain we cannot send our quickest messenger?” you address Erwin. It wasn’t a matter of facing Zeke – you were strong. “Winter is fast approaching Erwin. I can’t let my people wither away while I leave them to starve.”

“Of course not,” Erwin replies smoothly despite your growing agitation. “We can settle the details tomorrow about how we should distribute food and Levi will draft a plan for the more impoverished areas of the land.” He glances at Levi for a brief moment. “And then I suggest we depart for Kaslogon in two days' time. I have sent a messenger ahead with news of our arrival and they should be prepared to welcome us with open arms considering you are still technically engaged to Zeke.”

You shudder at the thought of coming into contact with Zeke again even if it will be over negotiations. “That’s enough for today.” You stand abruptly, needing a moment to yourself before you would have to entertain a multitude of officials you did not care for. Erwin and Hange stand just as fast as you and bow while Levi stands at his normal pace, following you out of the meeting hall after you nod to the Commander and Brigadier of your kingdom.

You walk the halls with Levi by your side, breathing slowly to try and calm your heart rate down. For once you feel as though a nap would be the best thing for you to restore your energy, just a moment of peace alone in your bedroom, but your dress would be staying on for the rest of the evening.

You reach your door and turn to Levi to bid him farewell. “Aeron,” he starts and your hand pauses on the doorknob of your door. “May I come in?”

You blink at him, processing that he’s requested to actually be in your bedroom without a clear purpose, and nod before opening your door to step inside. It’s cold and you immediately cross your room to start a fire in your fireplace, grabbing a couple logs to place inside the hearth. You reach to grab the poker and a match, but Levi’s hand resting on your own stops you, causing a small gasp to escape your lips.

“You’ll get soot on your dress. Go sit,” he tells you and you surprisingly don’t mind he’s telling his new Queen what to do.

You take a seat on your bench. “Is there a reason you requested to come in?”

He clears his throat and glances up at you. He strikes a match and throws it into the hearth, watching as the flames come to life and lick at the new wood that’s been placed. Levi strides over to you and sits down on the bench next to you, taking off his coat and setting it down on the edge of your bed. You take in his form, noticing his uniform has been slightly altered for your coronation. He’s wearing a more intricately designed collared shirt, swirling silver detailings on it with beautiful silver cufflinks of your kingdom’s emblem. His pants are the usual navy blue, but his shoes have been embellished with silver as well.

Your breath gets caught in your throat when he uses a single finger to tilt your head up to face him, meeting his grey eyes that seem warm under the fire light. “I hope it gives you some comfort to know that I will never leave your side in Kaslogon,” he mutters. “You’ll be safe and I will never let that man touch you.”

Your eyebrows furrow, lips curling downwards as Levi’s hand retreats. “I’m scared,” you confess, your heart thumping hard in your chest.

“I know.”

“No. I’m scared of everything, not just Zeke,” you sigh. “I’m scared of failing my kingdom. I’m scared of traveling to Kaslogon. What if everything is already ruined? What if Zeke has already begun his plans. He left that letter for me a month ago–”

“Erwin is confident that we have time to negotiate. A month is nothing to worry about,” Levi tries to help.

You ignore his words. “I’m scared of your idiotic promises,” you blurt out. He looks at you with confusion. “You cannot devote your life to me–”

“Aeron–”

“You cannot die, Levi. I forbid it,” you sniffle, unaware of the tears starting to form in your waterline as you choke out, “if you die there’s no one left.”

“I won’t die,” he comforts you, placing a hand on yours that's resting on your leg. “I promised my life to you because I know I am the only one that can fulfill the promise to never leave.”

You turn your hand so you’re grasping his. “You’re a fool,” you laugh, sounding hollow. “You’ve always been such an idiot.”

He clicks his tongue and turns his head away from you. “You were always the idiot little girl, Aeron.” A genuine laugh escapes you.

His other hand comes up so he can gently use his thumb to swipe away at the tears that have formed on your eyes, being careful enough not to poke your eye or ruin your makeup. “You were always the ridiculous one,” he mumbles. His thumb traces down the side of your face and down to your jaw as the two of you stare at each other.

You take in his features, observing each curve of his facial structure and harshness you once saw in him that seems to melt away the longer you look. His eyebrows don’t have a wrinkle between them like they usually do when he scowls, giving way to smooth porcelain skin. You notice how the sharp tip of his nose actually has some softness to it, gently sloping down to his plump pink lips. You wonder if they feel as soft as they look before your eyes wander to his jawline. Its angular and clearly pronounced, but you can see the curve of it from this close up.

His scent is almost overwhelming to you with his proximity, touches of fresh soap that intertwine with a light floral scent. You breathe deep without being obvious, taking in the hint of cedar that comes with it. It’s intoxicating – the masculine, but clean, scent makes you feel calm, comforted.

Your eyes dart back up to his when you realize you’ve been staring, an overwhelming urge coming over you to swipe the hair from his forehead when it obstructs your view into the grey.

So you do, soft fingers trailing delicately along his forehead as you sweep the raven black strands out of the way, tucking as much as you can behind his ear. His eyes are slightly wider when you look back at him again.

“You should rest before the ball,” he breathes.

You sit back slightly as his thumb leaves your jaw. “I suppose you’re right,” you mutter. You allow your grip on his hand to become loose and he pulls it away, standing to make his leave so you can be alone.

“I’ll be your escort again for tonight,” Levi states as he opens your door. “In about an hour I’ll knock.”

“Thank you, Levi,” you give him a small smile, standing in preparation to lie down on your bed. He gives you a small nod and closes the door behind him.

Levi’s mind is reeling when he closes your door, quickly walking to his quarters to take a moment for himself as you rest. He’s never been so close to you before, never breathed the same air as you – your scent made his brain fog, comforted by you. He opens his own bedroom door and leans against it, sliding down until he’s sitting on his floor – something he would never dream of doing.

You were confusing him beyond belief the more he got to know the real you. You had always been hiding yourself from him, hiding behind quick remarks and snide comments whenever he would tease you about something. He had no idea how elegant of a woman you had become, how sensitive you could be and how much you really did care for your people. He could see now that you are grateful for everything that’s been given to you and he doesn’t doubt that you deserve it any longer.

He can’t tell how he feels anymore. Levi can’t decipher platonic feelings from romantic ones now that he’s grown closer to you, but he has a fear that they may be the latter. Your gaze on his own lips had his heart rate soaring as he looked down at yours, so utterly tempted to just plant a soft kiss on them to stain his own a rosy red.

He could tell you cared about him too with the way you had almost ruined your makeup again with tears just from the thought of him dying. Perhaps he was foolish to devote his life to you, but the thought of losing another person in his life – let alone you – was something that would destroy him forever.

Your hand had been so soft in his, and he clenches his own into a fist as he remembers your touch. And when he remembers the sound of your laugh his stomach flutters with butterflies – it was so beautiful.

“You really are an idiot,” Levi curses at himself under his breath.

He stands and realizes he forgot his coat in your bedroom and chides himself for doing such a thing. At least he is your escort for the evening and can retrieve it in an hour rather than meeting you face to face again immediately. Levi releases a deep breath and swipes a hand over his face. You’re simply becoming friends, he tells himself and his heart rate calms down once he realizes how stupid he’s being. Your friendship is something new, something foreign that he’s never experienced, and it would just take time to grow accustomed to these platonic feelings.

—

You were Queen now, so why were you still being forced to maintain pleasantries with people you couldn’t care less about?

It was stuffy, the grand room warm from so many bodies filling the space. Erwin and Hange had organized the guest list, inviting every lord and lady within Mirlenas’ territory and anyone who had a semblance of importance. So many of them had dawned Mirlenas’ current social standards for beauty; the powdered wigs and faces with bright red lips made you want to gag.

Levi had escorted you here with your hand gently placed on his forearm as he had opened the door, the warmth radiating from him comforting you to the point where you felt like you would be okay for the evening. But you’ve been talking eloquently to so many strange faces by now that you were utterly fatigued. Levi has been standing guard all night and you’ve snuck peeks at him throughout, always catching his eye and realizing he’s never once taken them off you as you mingle. You can imagine he hates this just as much, if not more than, you.

You stride up to Erwin now, hardly inebriated, and let him know you’ll be making your leave now and to enjoy the party.

“I’m sure you will be missed, Your Majesty,” he tells you. He has stuck with addressing you by your formal title in public, despite your objections, and you scoff at his words.

“I’m sure, Commander,” you laugh as you take a look around the ballroom. Your guests are hardly coherent, much louder and much more inebriated than they were at the beginning of the evening, but still stuffing their faces with the food you had supplied for the night.

Erwin simply nods at you before you turn around and look up at Levi – he’s ready for you and waiting with an arm extended. You take it as soon as you reach him, looping yours with his and placing your hand on his bicep for comfortability purposes rather than the formal hold on his forearm.

Mikasa and Armin open the doors for you and Levi and you nod at them in thanks, earning a small smile from the lively blond and a neutral nod from the raven haired girl. “Done for the night?” Levi inquires as soon as the doors have shut behind you.

“I was done a long time ago,” you sigh. “Unfortunately, I’m not done yet.”

Levi gives you a questioning glance. “What else must you tend to that can’t wait for tomorrow?”

“My mother,” you sigh again, dreading the needed conversation ahead of you.

Levi stops in his tracks and faces you, letting your arm slip from his. “Erwin has spoken to her. She knows you’re Queen and does not wish to be a part of this.”

“She’s still my mother, Levi.”

“Blood does not mean family, Aeron.” He grabs your hands. “You’ll come to me if you’re not well?”

You give him a small smile. “I will.”

Levi accompanies you to your mother’s door, the walk silent the whole way. You know he means well, that he’s vowed to protect you even if it may be your heart from your mother, but you can’t ignore the woman that provided you this life any longer – especially if you were going to be sailing into the unknown in two days time.

You knock once you see Levi disappear around the corner and the voice you haven’t heard in so long sounds from the other side. “Mrs. Springer, I told you I’d like to be alone for the evening.”

You inhale a shaky breath. “It’s me,” you announce through the solid wood in front of you.

It’s quiet on the other side, and then soft footsteps approach and you hold your breath, your nerves overwhelming you. You only realize you’re still in your coronation dress and crown before it’s too late and your mother has opened her bedroom door – you hope it doesn’t present as disrespectful.

You stare ahead of you at a woman you hardly recognize, her hair disheveled and in stark contrast to what you remember it being. It’s long, curly and unkempt and you wonder how Mrs. Springer has not lost her mind trying to tame it. She appears as if she hasn’t bathed in days and you wonder if that’s truly the case based on her appearance. The two of you drink each other in; one poised and full of radiant confidence, while the other appears as an injured predator, ready to bare their teeth to protect themselves.

You speak first. “It’s good to see you, mother.” Your voice is calm, sounding as genuine as possible. Part of you knows you craved her appearance for your coronation and was disappointed when she did not show. You try to remember how much pain she must be going through – to lose not only your sons, but your mate as well must be enough to break someone completely.

“Why are you here?” she asks, voice sounding more hoarse than when she assumed Mrs. Springer had been the one knocking on her door late into the night.

“May I come in?” you gesture to the door she has a deathgrip on and gain access only after she hesitantly steps back for you to enter.

You’ve never been in your parents bedroom until now, and you take in the large room. It’s much bigger than yours, decorated with more fine silver laced tapestries that hang on the walls and the curtains that cover the large windows and balcony doors. The bed is also much larger than your own, with ornate wood posts and intricately laced harateen shading the mattress. Your father’s desk is along the right wall amongst large bookshelves that reach the ceiling, lined with old war stories and maps. There's a lounging area to the left, two dark leather wingback chairs facing the fireplace.

It smells stale, sorrow leaking out of every crevice. It smells of mildew, like the sun hasn’t touched the room in days, if not weeks, and you doubt your mother has at least tried to allow sunlight in from the north facing windows. A dead plant on your father’s desk only confirms your theory.

It’s dark, with only a single candle by the bed lighting the room. “I never expected a visit from you,” your mother honestly tells you. She closes the door and walks to the fireplace and begins stacking logs. You gently take a seat on one of the chairs, choosing the one less worn in fear of sitting in your father’s place. It seems you’ve chosen right when you don’t receive a comment from her.

“When I didn’t see you at the ceremony I felt this was overdue,” you state simply, crossing your legs under your skirts.

“Auguste was the rightful heir,” she snaps and sits down in the other chair, glaring at you.

“You didn’t need to step down if me becoming Queen was against your wishes,” you remind her, gritting your teeth in an attempt to keep your composure.

“Erwin Smith left no room for negotiation,” she scoffs, folding her arms in front of her. “Deemed me unfit to rule. Mirlenas would have been under military command until I was six feet underground.”

“With Zeke Jaeger’s threats it was only the natural progression of things, unless you were going to fight against him yourself.” You’re met with silence, her glare turning empty as she looks towards the fire and you stare at her. Your jaw unclenches, the anger dissipating and leaving you exhausted from fighting with your mother despite it being months since you’ve last spoken. “You’re right.”

She looks up at you. “About?” she asks expectantly.

“Auguste would have been a better ruler. The true king, but you got me instead,” you sigh and stand up. “I’m sorry you never got the third son you wanted, but I’ll be the Queen Mirlenas needs. Try taking care of yourself.”

You finally get a lively reaction from your mother as she stands abruptly, pointing a finger in your direction. “You’ve never lost a mate before!” she yells. “You’ve never felt the other’s soul leave yours alone in this hell of a world. You’ll be lucky if anyone loves someone like you!”

You scoff and turn around to head for the door. “Thanks mother for the kind words.” You open the door and turn your head to the side to barely address her. “Thought you’d be proud of me for once.” You slam the door shut behind you.

—

You know you said you would approach Levi if you weren’t alright after your visit to your mother, but it feels so much better to hold a bow in your hands again and draw back that string, to feel your back muscles tighten and then release. You stare down at the target and release the arrow, landing dead center like you usually do after a moment of practice.

Levi watches you from afar, concealed in the shadows of the castle atop the stairs that lead into the back entrance as he leans against a pillar. You’re in the large grassy area, still in your coronation dress, but without your crown, shooting arrows into the target you set up down the stretch of green. The full moon is glinting off the silver adorning your clothing, the light illuminating your soft skin – he wonders if you know how regal, how much of a leader you look, when you pull the string back on your bow and release an arrow with such accuracy.

He knows you’re releasing stress and that’s why he leaves you alone, watching from a distance instead. He knows how therapeutic it can be to put your strength into one of your skills, to provide that release of emotions without hurting anyone or yourself.

Levi still doesn’t move when he hears the recognizable sound of Erwin’s heavy booted footsteps behind him, the much larger man choosing to stand next to him and observe you as well.

“She spoke with her mother,” Levi’s voice cuts the silence.

“Ah, I see,” Erwin hums. “A wretched woman, really.”

Levi nods, agreeing fully in silence.

“Do you think she would mind if I interrupted?” Erwin asks after a moment of listening to your arrows hit the target one after the other.

“Most likely, but that shouldn’t stop you if it’s necessary,” Levi speaks, never breaking his gaze away from you.

“I think it could help her.”

Levi spares a brief glance at Erwin before finding you again. “Then please.”

He watches Erwin stride away, down the set of stairs that lead to you, and slinks back a little further so you can’t spy him in the castle shadows once you turn your head to the sound of Erwin’s footsteps. Levi takes his leave, confident you’ll be escorted to your room by Erwin and prepares for the busy day ahead of him tomorrow.

You swing your body around when you hear a footstep touch the last step to the stairs, bow drawn and arrow nocked. Erwin raises his hands in mock surrender and you turn to release the arrow into your target – you should really clear it before you split one.

“Aeron,” he greets.

“Erwin.” You stride towards the target and he remains a few meters away from where you were standing.

“Auguste always remarked how excellent of a marksman you are,” Erwin hums and you swallow thickly, keeping your emotions at bay.

“I suppose I owe it to him.” You put your arrows back into your quiver that’s resting on your back. “I’m sure he knew how excellent of one he was himself.”

“He did.” Erwin shifts on his feet, hands clasped behind his back, and continues, “told me he could never surpass you again.”

You sigh and look up at him once you’ve reached your shooting spot. “May I ask you a personal question?”

Erwin’s eyes narrow for a moment. “I suppose I can’t refuse my Queen.”

“You can,” you instantly respond, because you do not want that kind of power when it comes to Erwin – or Hange and Levi for that matter. When he doesn’t say anything in response, only giving you a small nod of encouragement, you continue. “Why did you and my brother never… mate?” You look back at the target. “He wrote in his letter that you two were going to and I suppose my curiosity has gotten the best of me. You don’t have to answer.” You’re quick to include.

“It’s alright,” Erwin starts slowly, hesitantly. “We were going to mate once he was king.” He clears his throat. “So that your father could not forbid it.”

“Do you wish you had done it before he died?”

“No,” Erwin responds immediately. “I could never bear the pain of losing a mate, I can barely handle the pain now.”

Your turn towards him, dropping your bow down low in a loose grip. “I apologize for–”

“No,” he cuts you off. “But this is not what I came to discuss, if you don’t mind…” His voice trails off.

“I’m sure we have a busy day tomorrow in preparation for our voyage” you change the subject for him, anticipating his actual topic of conversation.

“We do.” His voice sounds less strained, less heartbroken, and you chide yourself for discussing something so personal with him. “Levi will be taking you into the city to the less fortunate areas. You’ll be in disguise of course, but he insisted that you would want to see what you were helping and perhaps the two of you could come up with a solution before we depart the following dawn.”

You stride towards him in favor of abandoning your practice of shooting. “That sounds wonderful. I’d love to see the city.” You start the walk back to the castle.

“I must warn you it’s not a safe place for a Queen.” Erwin falls into step with you. “Your safety is guaranteed with Levi, but I cannot guarantee you’ll be satisfied with what you witness.”

“I understand I’ll be walking into something I am naive to, but I trust Levi will be able to explain to me and protect me.”

“Very well,” Erwin mutters. “I’ll escort you back to your room. May I take the bow and arrows to be put away?”

You glance up at him. “No, that's alright. I think I’d like to keep them in my room.”

Erwin doesn’t hide the surprise in his eyes, simply muttering, “very well,” and walks you back to your bedroom where you find Isabel just arriving at your door with a tray of tea.

You bid Erwin farewell, earning a nod from him, and address Isabel. “What’s this?”

She gives you a small smile, blush rising to her cheeks from what you can tell under the candlelight that glows in the hallways. “Levi requested some lavender chamomile tea for you,” she says softly, as if you’ll startle. “Said you needed the break.”

You blink at her, taken aback by Levi’s request. “Alright,” you mutter and walk towards your door, opening it and gesturing for Isabel to follow you inside. “Why don’t you join me then.”

“Balcony or inside?” she asks, tray balanced in her hands.

“Inside is fine,” you sigh, setting your bow and quiver down and begin untying your dress. “It’s getting a bit too cold at night now.”

She sets the tray down on the small table next to your mirror. “Did you want to bathe first?”

“No, but can you help me undress?” you request as you struggle to free yourself from your coronation dress. “I’ll bathe after tea if you wouldn’t mind getting Mrs. Kirstein to fetch hot water.”

“Of course. To both,” she giggles. Isabel stands behind you, gently untying your dress and lifting the heavy skirts off your body so you’re left in just your chemise, finally free of your corset. “I’ll pour you a cup and brush your hair,” she suggests and you nod, taking a seat in front of your vanity.

She sets the tea cup down with a saucer in front of you so you can sip on it and grabs your hair brush. Isabel is gentle as she glides it through your curls, starting at the bottom and gently holding the strands when she comes across a knot so she doesn’t pull too hard at your scalp. “Are you feeling alright?” she asks, looking at you through the mirror.

You set your tea cup down after taking a sip and sigh. “It’s a lot,” you honestly tell her. “It’s barely begun and I can’t help but think of how much better Auguste would have been at this. He would know how to help our kingdom, provide for them, and I can’t figure out what’s wrong and what’s right.”

“You’re an amazing Queen already, Aeron,” Isabel sighs, looking back down at her work on your hair. “The fact that you care this much says more than you think. No wonder Levi said you’re stressed.”

You chuckle. “He probably saw me shooting.”

“You were shooting?” She stops brushing your hair.

“Yes, after I saw my mother–”

“You saw your mother?!” Isabel completely removes the brush from your hair now, holding it up as she gawks at you in the mirror. “Even I haven’t seen your mother. Only Mrs. Springer is allowed in her bedroom.”

“Yes, well, I thought it would be different this time for some reason,” you sigh and take a sip from your tea. “I thought maybe she’d be proud of me for stepping into the role of Queen.” You look down into your teacup.

Isabel sighs and resumes her brushing to ensure your hair is tangle free. “You know, you don’t need her approval to know you’re going to be the best queen Mirlenas has ever seen,” she hums, setting down the brush on your vanity in favor of braiding your hair to tame the frizz. “Ever since we were little I knew you were going to be something big.” She laughs and you look up at her in the mirror, raising an eyebrow at her sudden giggles. “Hell, even Levi sees it now. That’s how you know you’re doing something right.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Yeah,” you laugh. “Never thought I’d be friends with the grouch.”

“He’s less grouchy now,” she says thoughtfully. “Maybe more gloomy, but… only sometimes.”

“Are you sure that’s not just his face?”

Isabel laughs and reaches for a ribbon to tie your hair at the end of the braid. “I like you two being friends,” she states fondly.

You take the last sip of your tea. “Yeah. Me too,” you mumble.

—

You look at yourself in the mirror, dressed in black leather trousers for what feels like the first time in forever. A black tight fitting cotton blouse hugs your torso, covered by a tightly laced black corset. A black cloak hides your figure and your hair is styled in an updo to keep it out of the way – you throw the hood of your cloak over your head to test it out. You don’t think it does much, but Isabel and Mrs. Kirstein believe it hides plenty – especially in all black.

“Now you can’t see your round–”

“Isabel,” Mrs. Kirstein scolds before she can continue. “It hides your features dear and that’s the goal. No one will know it’s you unless they come close.”

A knock sounds on your door and you sigh, knowing it’s Levi and it’s time to depart for the city. “Come in,” you address him, still staring at yourself in the mirror. You can’t fathom how a simple cloak will be good enough.

He opens the door and softly closes it behind him. “Perfect,” he states and strides up next to you – you turn to him. “No one will know it’s you unless they get close enough and I won’t let that happen.” He takes your hood and puts it back, accidentally brushing your ears with his wrists in the process. “Thank you for putting her hair up, Is,” Levi looks around you at Isabel.

“Of course!” she chirps.

You take a step back from everyone. “Alright,” you clear your throat. “There’s plenty to do today. We should leave soon.”

“Of course,” Levi states as Isabel and Mrs. Kirstein make their leave. When the door is closed again he speaks up. “I’ll be taking you somewhere important, but I want you to be at my side at all times. You cannot stray.”

“You know I am more than capable of handling myself, Levi,” you frown at him and reach for your lavender oil on your vanity.

His grip on your wrist stops you. “No perfume today.”

“It’s lavender,” you roll your eyes. “Anyone can smell like lavender.”

“It smells like you and lavender,” he snaps back. “Don’t be stupid. You’re following my lead today.”

He releases his hold on your wrist once you’re no longer reaching for the essential oil. “Do not call me stupid,” you retort, eyebrows furrowed.

Levi rolls his eyes. “You know you’re not stupid, that’s not –” He huffs through his nose and turns away from you. “You’re following my lead today because you’ve hardly ever been outside of the castle grounds.” Levi walks towards your bedroom door and waits for you to join him. “You’ll do as I say and be a good girl for me.”

—

The capital city, Venelles, is bustling with people, vendors shouting from their shops with a certain urgency in their voice as they beg passerbyers to sample their food and wares. Levi assures you once you’re out of the city center it won’t be as overwhelming as this, but he’ll have to keep more of a lookout for danger. When you looked at him with slight fear in your eyes from getting so overwhelmed with your surroundings, he simply squeezed your hand to reassure you and has been holding your hand ever since. You’re almost positive it’s unbearably clammy, but if he minds he doesn’t say – you think he just doesn’t trust you enough to stick with him.

You notice the crowd has started to thin out after a while and now you’re strolling the streets with hardly anyone on them. The buildings are starting to get more worn down, the nice cobbled stone turning into just wood with patches where you can see repairs have been made.

Levi let’s go of your hand. “Hold onto my arm,” he mutters to you, eyes scanning the environment as you continue on.

“Where are we going?” you whisper to him, growing afraid of your surroundings and intertwining your arm with his.

Your eyes dart to every little sound that comes from every dark alley, every shadow that seems to have monsters lurking. You grip onto Levi’s bicep harder when someone knocks over a metal bucket outside of their home, earning a slight glance from him. Your hood is drawn over your head and as you dip your head down lower it hides most of the street from view. It feels like you’re being watched, stalked, and someone knows your real identity and has come to take you away. You wonder if you’ll always live your life like this and if you’ll ever lose that fear of being in such a vulnerable place of power.

“I’m going to turn right and I need you to act like it’s where we’re supposed to be going,” Levi tells you under his breath, leaning into you just enough, but still holding his gaze forward.

He turns right into an alley as you lift your gaze, and you manage to not stumble as his pace quickens. Once you’re in the alley he makes another abrupt turn, heading left and into a small nook between the buildings and pressing his body against yours so you're squished between him and the wall. A small yelp escapes your lips and his hand flies up to cover your mouth as you look at him with wide eyes.

You can feel how warm he is against you, his chest pressed to yours and one of his arms wrapped around your waist and the small of your back to hold you close. Your heart is racing and you’re breathing heavily from your nose since his hand is over your mouth – you close your eyes to try and calm yourself down, opening them to Levi looking back at you.

“Relax,” he mumbles, his voice so quiet it barely reaches your ears. You’re trying desperately to remain calm, but all you can feel is his weight against you and the anxiety you feel from having been shoved in a corner.

Footsteps sound from close by, somewhere you can’t see, and your eyes widen again. Levi lifts a finger to his mouth, signaling for you to be quiet, and slowly lifts his hand off of your mouth. You’re holding your breath, for once obeying his command and remaining silent.

“Oi!” a deep voice comes from the end of the alley. “You two don’t look like you’re from ‘round here!” You and Levi don’t make a sound. “Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” You hear hurried footsteps and let out a quiet breath, scared and shaking under the pressure of Levi’s body.

Levi turns his head and peers down the alleyway and immediately turns back to you. “Just trust me,” he quickly mumbles. Before you can even think about what he’s talking about his lips are on yours with both hands cupping your face as you remain perfectly still, blinking in shock.

“Hey!” the man shouts from right behind Levi. “Oh–”

Levi removes his lips and barely turns his head to address the man. “Ever heard of privacy?” he questions.

“Sorry– Uh…” the man stumbles over his words and you hear his quick paced retreating footsteps.

Once you know he’s gone, Levi is backing off of you and you’re pushing your hands against his chest to quicken the process.

“I’m sorry,” Levi apologizes.

“You kissed me,” you state the obvious, voice and face empty of emotion. “You…”

“I know,” Levi sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t let him see your face. He was tailing us for a while and I didn’t know if he knew who you were or if he just thought we were easy targets.”

“So that was your solution?” you ask, dumbfounded.

Levi hesitates. “Yes, and I said I’m sorry.”

You push yourself off the wall and stare at him – you never thought your first real kiss would be from him. You’ve blocked the one from Zeke out of your mind, choosing to forget the forceful way he grabbed you to do it. It felt different with Levi, but you always thought it would be someone you’d meet at a ball, where you’d be properly courted before anything like that could’ve happened like the women in your novels. “Where the hell are you taking me?”

Levi walks up to you and reaches for the hood of your cloak that’s fallen back and you let him adjust it forward. “A place where you can learn about where I grew up in the city without any harm coming to you.”

You scowl at him. “You’re pushing it today.”

“You’ll just have to trust me,” Levi calmly states, looking at you with a blank expression.

“Clearly I do,” you snap at him, “or else I wouldn’t be following you around today without any idea on where the hell I am or where we’re going!”

Levi grabs your waist to pull you close to him and scowls at you. “Would you keep your voice down,” he hisses. “You act like we’re still inside your pretty little castle. You’re the one that wanted to see this.”

You wordlessly push him away again and he releases you without a fight, anger presenting itself clearly on your features.

You continue on, reluctantly looping an arm through Levi’s and loosely holding onto him as he guides you through this part of the city. You still feel like you’re being watched as if there’s eyes and ears everywhere you go that know your secrets. It’s only when you step foot in front of an old wooden building that you look over at Levi again, pulling your hood slightly back so you can get a better look at him and the structure in front of you.

When you realize what it is your eyes widen. “A brothel?” you question. “Look, I know you kissed me in the alley but–”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Levi interrupts you. “This was our destination this whole time and could you… stop bringing that up? I said I’m sorry.” He tugs you along and reaches for the door handle of the discrete building. “Now don’t talk until I find who we’re here for.”

You reluctantly obey his command once again, growing tired of being told what to do, but knowing what you signed up for today.

Levi opens the door and you’re immediately greeted by a cacophony of unpleasant smells; sweat, alcohol, and another pungent scent you can’t place lingers in the air. You scrunch your nose and refrain from covering your face with your cloak, following Levi blindly further into the building. There’s women everywhere, some in dresses that push their breasts up until they’re practically spilling over their corsets, some with no top on but wearing a skirt, and even some that are completely naked and sitting on men’s laps. You avert your gaze from one woman that’s grinding against a man’s lap in the corner, everything on display for you to see.

It’s dimly lit with candle sconces that hardly reflect off the dark wooden walls and small oil lamps on each table. The men are too distracted by the giggles coming from the women in front of them, their dirty paws grabbing at whatever they can. You assume none of them are mated if they’re here and hope that someone could never even think of betraying their own like that.

You step to the side and into a hallway – Levi seems to know where he’s going and you can’t tell how you feel about him being so familiar with a brothel.

A woman at the end of the hallway instantly recognizes Levi and you’re forced to let go of him when she goes in for a hug, practically squeezing the life out of him. You frown at the way her breasts press against him.

“Levi,” she coos and backs away to separate from him, a hand lingering on the bicep you were holding. “It’s been too long. How is my favorite man?” The woman bats her eyelashes at him, and you take in her features, wondering just how old she is. She has thick red hair that’s been styled in an updo with curls framing her face – she looks young, but the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth give away that she’s been in this business and smiling at strangers for years, if not decades. Her skin is smooth and naturally golden besides the crows feet, but you can’t imagine she sees much sun from in here.

“Madame Elise,” Levi greets, subtly brushing off his coat and stepping just out of reach. “If you have a moment we’d like to speak with you about a couple things.”

As if her tunnel vision has dissipated, she looks over at you, eyes dropping and sizing up every centimeter of you. She looks back at Levi. “This is not the place to bring your own women, Levi,” she scoffs. “You’ve insulted me.”

“She’s no ordinary woman–”

“Surely you could pay for your own room by now so you can warm your cock,” she snaps.

You step forward and pull back the hood of your cloak. “Do not speak to him that way,” you defend. “And you should learn how to address your Queen properly.”

Her eyes widen as she takes a better look at your face, then darts her gaze over to Levi. “What do you want?”

“Why don’t we start this conversation over in your office,” Levi suggests, gesturing towards a door at the end of the hallway.

She seems to agree reluctantly and spins on her heels, leading the way to her office. “You’ve caught me by surprise, Levi,” she hums in front of you as she takes a giant ring of keys that were attached at her waist, shifting through them until she finds the right one. “I haven’t seen you since you were a teen. It’s been what? At least ten years.”

“Madame Elise,” Levi sighs.

“I know,” she mutters and holds open the door for the two of you, standing in front of it as you walk by. “Never one for pleasantries.” You feel her eyes judging you as you stand in the room.

The door closes with a small thud and she twists the lock, ensuring you won’t be interrupted. “We’d like to discuss some things with you,” you begin.

“Are you really the Queen?” she questions, striding across the room and rounding her desk to take a seat in the leather wingback chair behind it. “You really don’t resemble the portraits. Auguste and Theo were always so handsome and I just can’t imagine you being related to them. Shame they’re gone really. Never got to welcome them into my establishment.” She hums and reaches for a quill and ink pot.

You grit your teeth and open your mouth to speak, but Levi cuts you off with a soft touch of his hand on yours. There must be absolute fury in your eyes when you look from your hand and up to him, and he reacts with a surprised blink. He tears his gaze away from you and addresses Madame Elise. “She is the Queen and I’m surprised you haven’t addressed her as such. Clearly I was wrong in coming here after so long – you’ve changed.”

“Of course I’ve changed,” she drawls and looks up at him with a bored expression. She looks over at you. “I apologize, Your Majesty. I was quite taken aback to see Levi again, let alone with another woman hanging onto his arm.”

“Madame–”

“You should remember your place,” you cut off Levi. “You’ve disrespected me already, and I would appreciate it if you stopped looking at my Chevalier like you’re going to force yourself upon him at any moment,” you sneer and take a few steps forward so you’re at the edge of her desk and slam your hands down. “You’ve obviously gained the trust of Levi, but need I remind you that you’ve done no such thing with me? I am not required to tolerate you, and I won’t. Answer our questions and we’ll be leaving.” You step back and cross your arms, standing next to Levi and looking down at Madame Elise.

It’s silent for a moment.

Levi clears his throat. “Queen Aeron wants to aid the impoverished communities of the city and I came here in hopes of you sharing your insight on what the city needs. You are one of the most connected individuals with the community and we would appreciate your assistance.”

She scowls at you, and then blinks before looking over at Levi with a neutral expression. “My apologies,” she grits out. “We’re always struggling. You know this Levi,” she sighs. “You’ve come to me for information you already know. Has royalty changed you that much?”

“It hasn’t changed within the last decade?” you ask before Levi can respond.

She glances over at you. “No, it hasn’t.” She looks back at Levi, as if you weren’t in the room. “People still struggle for food, vendors mark up their prices because they know people need to eat somehow and will buy it regardless. People still steal and fight for anything – this is the only place I can provide for people and keep my girls safe.”

“What do you think is the best way to help the community, reduce crime rates?” Levi questions. You look over at him and can tell he’s growing frustrated. He’s scowling now, eyes narrowed down at Madame Elise, and his arms have been crossed over his chest. “Military force?”

“If you put any kind of military force in this area of the city, you’re going to have a riot,” comes her instant reply. She looks down at her desk, drumming her fingertips against the dark wood. “Provide food, medicine even, if you can. I can see it helping but it’ll have to be a slow transition for them to see that it’s genuine and constant… That you won’t just pull the rug from under them.”

You nod, thoughtfully looking down at her. She looks more tired now that she’s in her office, the dim lighting casting shadows on her face and making her dark under eyes more apparent. It frustrates you that she can be so stubborn, so determined to show that she’s strong, when maybe you would have related to her more if she was vulnerable with you.

“Thank you,” you say genuinely. “This has been helpful. We’ll be in contact with you.” You look over at Levi and he meets your soft eyes, nodding when he recognizes that you want to leave.

He turns to the door and unlocks it. “I’ll see you soon, Levi?” Madame Elise questions behind him in a soft, hopeful, tone.

“We’ll be in contact, Madame Elise,” he responds and guides you out the doorway, placing a hand on your lower back.

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