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quinzzelx · 17 days

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Shadows and Starlight

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Mor return from a long mission on the Continent. Nine Months have passed since your departure and you couldn't wait to reunite with your best friend, a best friend you'd had a crush on for centuries. Only that Azriel wasn't there when you returned home. He would only return on Starfall.

Part 02

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: A little spice at the end there. But honestly just a little! Otherwise Fluff, Reader being part of the IC!! I have not proof-read it yet.

A/N: Well, hello there! I have never posted writing for this Fandom before, so I truly hope it is enjoyable and finds it's people. Overall, I haven't really been posting on this blog in ages and felt inspired. I would love to write a second part if this is received well. This isn't proofread yet, I will do that eventually, so I apologize for possible errors. Please let me know what you think and feel free to drop into my inbox.

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The night was cool and crisp as you and Mor made your way through the streets of Velaris, the city lights casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Returning to Velaris had been a relief, the mission Rhys had sent you on should have taken no longer than six weeks, lastly spanning nine months that felt like an eternity. What should have been a rather quick trip to the Continent turned out to be far more complicated than anticipated. You were supposed to look into the whereabouts of a magical artifact while Mor should keep up her work as emissary. What you did not take into account whatsoever was the uprising conflict between two of their biggest noble houses, which complicated things. Trust was not easy to come by. Diplomats and Mediators by day and treasure hunters by night. Of course, you also had plenty of time to bask in the sunlight, smothering heat seeping into the marrow of your bones. Even with Mor by your side, there had been moments of homesickness that gnawed at your heart, a longing for the familiar comforts of home that seemed to grow with each passing day.

But now, as you made your way through the streets of Velaris, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. The city was alive with the buzz of activity, its streets bustling with life and energy. Even the stars seemed to shine and twinkle brighter than usually, welcoming you back. It was good to be home. As you stepped into the grand foyer of the House of Wind, you felt a rush of nostalgia wash over you. Albite nine months were nothing for Fae, you had missed this. The scent of fresh bread filled the air, no doubt made by Elain. A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the familiarity, your shoulders relaxing slightly.

Mor wasted no time in making herself comfortable, stomping off to the sitting room and throwing herself onto the chaise with a dramatic sigh. You couldn't help but chuckle at her antics. As she settled into the plush pillows, you perched yourself on the edge of the nearby armchair, your gaze drifting to the flickering flames in the hearth. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across the room, its warmth a comforting embrace after the long journey home. "So, what is on your mind?" Mor's voice broke through the silence, her eyes fluttering open as she regarded you with a curious expression. You let out a soft sigh, your thoughts drifting back to the tribulations of your time overseas. "It was... intense," you replied, voice tinged with a hint of weariness. "So much happened.” You groaned then. “Cauldron boil me, I really don’t want to fill out that mission report…” Mor nodded in understanding, a sympathetic smile playing on her lips. "I can imagine, me neither" she said, her tone filled with empathy. "But Rhys will not push us. He probably missed us as much as we missed him. It’s been a while after all.”

You smiled gratefully at her words, a sense of relief washing over you. "Yeah, you're right," you agreed, your spirits lifting at the thought of being back in Velaris once more. Back home. You fell into a comfortable silence then, the crackling fire the only sound echoing in the room. But beneath the surface, you felt a restlessness stirring within yourself—a longing to see him, to feel the familiar comfort of his presence. Obviously you missed the entirety of your family wholly. Definitely not thinking about one person more than the others. At least that is what you told yourself.

"I'm going to check on Az," you said suddenly, your voice breaking the silence. "I haven't seen him in a while…" Mor raised an eyebrow inquisitively, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Really now? Here I thought we saw none of them in a while." she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Missing someone, are we?" You felt a blush creeping into your cheeks at Mor's teasing tone, but you brushed it off with a playful roll of your eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," you retorted, though the fluttering in your chest betrayed your true feelings. With a playful wink, Mor waved you off, her attention already drifting back to the warmth of the fire. "Go on then," she said, her voice soft but encouraging. "I'll be here when you get back." And with that, you rose from your seat and made your way to Azriel's room, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing him again after so long. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you picked up your pace subconsciously, your steps quick and eager. You had grown so close over the years, so comfortable in each other's company, that knocking on doors had become a formality you rarely bothered with anymore- and even if you usually still found yourself knocking from time to time, you just were too excited.

But as you pushed open the door to Azriel's room, your heart sank at the sight of the empty space before you. The room was quiet and still, save for the faint scent of cedar that lingered in the air—a stark reminder of the Male you had missed so much. Disappointment tugged at your heart as you surveyed the deserted room, your lips curling into a soft frown. It was Starfall in just a few days, you really thought, hoped, he’d be here when you returned. Before you could dwell on your thoughts any longer, a familiar voice broke through the silence, startling you. "So, Y/N, are you finally going to confess your undying love for my brother?" he quipped, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips now as you threw yourself into Cassian's awaiting arms. You had missed him, missed all of them, but the absence of Azriel weighed heavily on your heart somehow. After you pull away from your embrace, Cassian offers you a kind smile, his eyes warm with understanding.

"Hey, just so you know, Az has been on a mission for the past few days," The tall Illyrian says gently, his tone filled with reassurance. "But he should be back before Starfall." You feel a surge of relief at the news, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing Azriel again. You waited nine months, you could wait a few more days. "Thank you, Cass," you says sincerely, gratitude shining in your eyes. Then the tall male shifts on his foot, raising an eyebrow in mock offense, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Hey now, Y/N, I hope you're not just excited to see Az," he says with a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "I mean, I know I'm not as brooding and mysterious as our Shadowsinger, but a little appreciation for your favorite warrior wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes again with a grin, shaking your head at Cassian's antics. "Oh, please, Cass. You know you're my second favorite warrior," you quip, your tone teasing as you give him a playful shove. You share a moment of laughter before Cassian's expression turns more serious, his gaze softening as he looks at you with genuine concern. "How was the mission? Everything okay?"

Nodding, your smile faltering slightly as you recall the challenges you faced overseas. "It was... intense, to say the least. But we made it back in one piece, thanks to Mor and her quick thinking."

Cassian nods in understanding, his expression reflecting his relief. "Well, I'm glad you're both safe. We'll have to celebrate your return properly, once you've had a chance to rest." Humming you find yourself relaxing into the familiar warmth of his company. You nod in agreement then. “Yeah, Rhys always has something up his sleeve for Starfall,” you say, voice tinged with anticipation. “I can only imagine what he has planned for this year.” Both of you fall into comfortable silence for a moment. Only when a yawn claws itself up your throat and past your lips does Cassian speak again. “Does Rhys know you’re back?” His gaze is gentle in the way he looks at you, it was easy to tell that the oaf missed you just as much.

Stretching your tired muscles slightly, you nod hastily. "Yeah, you should have seen his face when he came barging into the kitchen and saw us drink tea with Feyre." A soft chuckle leaves him then, and you share a knowing grin as you both recall similar situations.

Making your way down the hall, you find Mor fast asleep on the chaise lounge in the sitting room, her features relaxed in slumber. Cassian retrieves a soft blanket from the nearby cupboard and gently drapes it over Mor's sleeping form, his movements gentle and caring.

You settle into the chairs nearby, he joins you, and the two of you engage in light conversation, catching up on the latest developments with Nesta and the Valkyrie. You share stories and anecdotes, laughter punctuating the quiet of the night as you relish in each other's company. Eventually, exhaustion catches up with you, and you bid Cassian goodnight before retreating to your own chambers for some much-needed rest.

As you settle into bed, your mind can't help but wander towards Azriel. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, thoughts of him linger at the forefront of your mind, like whispers in the darkness. You can't help but wonder how he's been faring on his mission, what trials and tribulations he's faced in your absence. A pang of guilt tugs at your heart as you realize that you hadn't even sent word of your return, leaving him in the dark about your whereabouts. Closing your eyes, you try to push aside the worry and uncertainty that gnaws at your thoughts, focusing instead on the memory of his warm smile and steady presence. You find solace in the thought of seeing him again, of being reunited with the friend who has always been a steady anchor in your life. With a soft sigh, you let the rhythmic sound of your breathing lull you into a state of calm, allowing yourself to drift into a restless sleep filled with dreams of starlit skies and whispered promises. And as sleep claims you, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring with it the long-awaited reunion you've been yearning for.

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The next days pass in a blur, the absence of Azriel weighing heavily on your heart despite the moments of joy spent with your family. You find solace in the familiar routines of daily life, in the laughter and chatter of your loved ones gathered together in the warmth of the House of Wind.

Mornings are filled with shared meals and lively conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the aroma of freshly baked pastries. On the day before Starfall you find yourself amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life in Velaris, as you join Feyre, Mor, and Nesta for a day of dress shopping. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked goods, adding to the festive atmosphere of the day.

As you weave through the throngs of people, your eyes alight on a quaint boutique you’re all too familiar with, nestled between two bustling shops. Its windows are adorned with elegant gowns in every shade of the rainbow, their silken fabrics shimmering in the sunlight.

With a shared glance and a knowing smile, you make your way inside, greeted by the tinkling of bells and the warm smile of the shopkeeper. The interior of the boutique is a veritable treasure trove of fashion, with racks of dresses in every style and design imaginable. As you browse through the racks, your eyes are drawn to a stunning gown in a shade of deep midnight blue, its bodice adorned with delicate lace and sparkling sequins. It catches the light in such a way that it seems to shimmer and dance with every movement, and you can't help but feel drawn to it.

Feyre picks up a flowing gown in a shade of pale lavender, holding it up against herself with a thoughtful expression. "What do you think?" she asks, turning to you and the others for their opinion. Mor nods approvingly, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's lovely, Feyre. You would look stunning in that." Nesta, ever the pragmatist, arches an eyebrow skeptically. "It's a bit too... ethereal for my taste," she remarks dryly. "But if it makes you happy, then go for it." You can't help but chuckle at Nesta's blunt honesty, knowing that she speaks from a place of genuine concern for her sister's happiness. "I think it's beautiful, Feyre," you offer, a warm smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But ultimately, it's up to you." Feyre returns your smile gratefully, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N," she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. "I think I'll give it a try." As Feyre disappears into the dressing room to try on the gown, Mor turns to you with a glint in her eyes. "So, Y/N, have you found anything that catches your eye?" she asks, her tone teasing.

You shrug nonchalantly, though your heart races at the thought of the dress you had spotted earlier. "Maybe," you reply coyly, a playful smile playing at your lips. "There was one that caught my attention." Nesta raises an eyebrow curiously, her gaze sharpening with interest. "Oh? And what does it look like?" she inquires, her tone betraying her curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your cheeks flushing slightly as you recall the details of the dress. "It's... um, it's a deep midnight blue," you begin, your voice trailing off as you struggle to find the right words to describe it.

Mor's eyes light up with mischief as she interrupts, a knowing smirk on her lips. "Sounds like something a certain Shadowsinger would most definitely like," she quips, her voice filled with amusement. You feel your cheeks grow even warmer at Mor's teasing remark, knowing that there is some truth to her words. "Maybe," you mumble, unable to hide the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips.

Before the conversation can continue further, Feyre emerges from the dressing room, the lavender gown flowing around her in a cascade of ethereal beauty. You gasp in awe at the sight of her, your heart swelling with pride and admiration.

"Feyre, you look incredible," you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine awe. "That dress was made for you." Feyre blushes at the compliment, her smile radiant as she twirls in front of the mirror. "Thank you, Y/N" she says warmly, her eyes shining with happiness. "I think I've found my dress." As Feyre twirls in front of the mirror, her radiant smile lighting up the room, Mor and Nesta exchange knowing glances before turning their attention to you.

"Well, Y/N, it's your turn now," Mor says with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling again. "You can't just talk about that mysterious midnight blue dress and not show it to us."

Nesta nods in agreement, her expression curious. "Yes, I'm quite intrigued to see this dress that has caught your eye," she adds, a hint of amusement in her voice. With a nod of determination, you make your way to the dressing room, the anticipation building with each step.

As you slip into the dress, you can't help but marvel at how perfectly it fits, clinging to your curves in all the right places. The fabric is soft against your skin, the deep midnight blue hue shimmering in the light, casting an enchanting glow around you. The bodice of the dress is adorned with delicate lace, the intricate patterns weaving a spellbinding tapestry across your skin. The neckline plunges low, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin, while the back dips into a daring V, leaving just enough to the imagination. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the reactions of your companions, before stepping out of the dressing room to reveal yourself to them.

Feyre gasps in awe as she lays eyes on you, her expression filled with admiration. "Wow, Y/N, you look absolutely stunning," she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine wonder.

Mor and Nesta nod in agreement, their eyes wide with astonishment. "That dress was made for you," Mor adds. As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, a surge of confidence courses through you. It's been so long since you've worn anything other than fighting leathers, and the sensation of silk against your skin is a welcome change. You feel sexy, beautiful, and alive in a way that you haven't in months, the weight of responsibility and duty momentarily lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to revel in the simple pleasure of feeling feminine and desirable.

But amidst the rush of excitement and adrenaline, there's a nagging voice in the back of your mind, whispering of doubts and insecurities. What will Azriel think when he sees you like this? Will he be pleased, impressed, or will he merely see you as the same old friend he's always known? You bite your bottom lip nervously at the thought, a flush rising to your cheeks as you imagine his reaction. But deep down, beneath the layers of uncertainty and self-doubt, there's a spark of hope flickering within you, a glimmer of possibility that maybe, just maybe, he'll see you in a new light. That maybe the feelings you had harbored for him for the past two centuries weren’t one-sided.

With a determined shake of your head, you banish the doubts from your mind, focusing instead on the here and now. Tonight, you'll revel in the joy of the moment, surrounded by friends who love and support you unconditionally. And tomorrow, well, tomorrow is another day. "I must say, I almost forgot you had it in you to clean up so nicely."

You roll your eyes playfully at Mor's teasing remark, unable to suppress a laugh at her antics. "Oh, please, Mor," you quip, your tone laced with mock indignation. "You act as if I've been wearing armor for the past century." Feyre chuckles, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Well, you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself in that dress," she remarks with a knowing smile.

Nesta, ever the pragmatist, raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Yes, but can you actually afford it?" she asks dryly, her tone tinged with amusement. You feign offense at Nesta's remark "Of course I can afford it, Nesta," you reply with a playful smirk. "I'll just put it on Rhysand's tab."

The group erupts into laughter at your comment. With a final twirl in front of the mirror, you turn to the shopkeeper with a grin. "I'll take it," you declare confidently, a sense of satisfaction washing over you as you make your purchase. "And put it on Rhysand's tab, of course."

The shopkeeper chuckles at your remark, nodding in agreement as she wraps the dress in delicate tissue paper. "Very well, Miss Y/N" she says with a smile. "I'll be sure to send the bill to the High Lord's estate."

With your new dress in hand and your spirits lifted, you bid farewell to the boutique and make your way back into the bustling streets of Velaris.

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Azriel strolls through the lush gardens of Tarquin's estate, the relentless heat of the Summer Court bearing down on him with an intensity that he finds almost suffocating. Sweat beads on his brow, trickling down his temples as he walks, and he can't help but curse the relentless sun that beats down from above, as if intent on draining him of every last ounce of energy.

He sighs heavily as he reflects on his current predicament, his thoughts drifting to the far-off lands of his homeland where snow, cold, and winter reign supreme. The sweltering heat of the Summer Court is a stark contrast to the familiar chill of the Night Court, and Azriel can't help but wonder if it's possible that he's somehow managed to burn his wings in the sun. But such thoughts are quickly pushed aside as he reminds himself of the task at hand. Everything had gone well with his meeting with Tarquin, and now he simply longs to retire to his chambers and escape the oppressive heat for a few precious hours of rest.

As he continues on his way, Azriel can't help but think about the upcoming Starfall celebration. Tomorrow would mark the end of his short mission in the Summer Court, and he couldn't wait to return home to Velaris. The thought of spending Starfall without Y/N weighs heavily on his mind, and he can't help but feel a pang of longing in his chest at the prospect. Suddenly, a voice breaks through his thoughts, a familiar presence intruding upon his mind with the ease of a whisper on the wind. It's Rhys, reaching out to him.

"Enjoying the summer heat, brother?" Rhys's voice echoes in his mind, a hint of amusement lacing his words. "Remember, not all of us are fortunate enough to have wings to shield us from the sun's rays."

Azriel can't help but snort at Rhys's teasing, the sound reverberating silently within his own mind. "I'd take a blizzard over this heat any day," he replies, his tone dry with sarcasm. "At least in the Winter Court, I wouldn't feel like I'm about to melt into a puddle."

Rhys's laughter fills his mind. "Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he quips "Besides, think of it as a challenge. A test of endurance, if you will."

Azriel shakes his head incredulously at his brother's words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. "You would find amusement in my suffering, wouldn't you?" he retorts. But Rhys's next words carry a weight of sincerity that catches Azriel off guard. "In all seriousness, Az, you'll be home before you know it," He assures him, his voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "Starfall is just around the corner, and there are loved ones eagerly awaiting your return."

There's a cryptic hint in Rhys's words, a subtle suggestion that Azriel can't quite decipher. He furrows his brows in confusion, his mind racing as he tries to make sense of his brother's words. After all, he's only been gone for a week. Rhys's voice fades from Azriel's mind, leaving him with a sense of calm and reassurance. "Until tomorrow, brother," he murmurs silently.

Azriel retreats for the night, the weight of exhaustion heavy on his shoulders. As he settles into his chambers, a sense of relief washes over him at the thought of returning home tomorrow.

His mind wanders to how he'll spend his first day back in Velaris, imagining the familiar streets and faces that he's missed so dearly the past week. But amidst the anticipation, there's a nagging sense of longing that tugs at his heart. Clasping his scarred hands together, Azriel reaches into the pocket of his bag and pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment. It's a letter from Y/N, the only way they've been able to stay in contact while she's been away on her mission.

He doesn't know why he took the letter with him, but holding it in his hands brings a sense of serenity and comfort. Even though their last exchanged letters had been about a month ago, knowing that Y/N is safe and well brings him a measure of peace.

With a sigh, Azriel unfolds the parchment and reads over her words once more, the familiar handwriting bringing a smile to his lips. He makes a silent promise to himself to write to her as soon as he gets home. But now, as he prepares to return home for the celebration, he can't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of Y/N missing out. He wonders what she might be doing on Starfall, if she's found a way to make the most of the day despite being apart from their shared family.

Azriel knew how she hadn’t missed a single Starfall since… The heavy feeling of subdued rage settles in the pits of his stomach at the thought of what she endured during those dark years under the Mountain. He wishes he could have been there to protect her, to shield her from the horrors of their captivity.

His thoughts drift to a darker memory then, one that haunts him even now. He remembers her broken body, her spirit shattered and her light dimmed, when she and Rhys returned after Feyre broke the curse. The sight of her lying there, broken and bruised, fills him with a sense of sorrow and rage unlike anything he's ever known. He can still feel the weight of her pain, the echoes of her suffering lingering in the recesses of his mind. In that moment, all he wanted was to take her pain away, to hold her close and mend her broken spirit. Azriel thinks of the first Starfall after they returned from under the mountain, how Y/N had opened up about her grief and trauma for the first time. He can still see the sadness in her eyes, the weight of her pain etched into every line of her face. It was a stark contrast to the joyous celebration unfolding around them, a reminder of the darkness that still lingered. From that day forward, Y/N never missed a single Starfall celebration.

As Azriel drifts off to sleep, frustration gnaws at his insides like a relentless beast. Despite his best efforts to push Y/N from his mind, she lingers there like a haunting specter, her presence weaving through his thoughts and dreams with an undeniable persistence. Rubbing his hand over his face in a futile attempt to banish the memories, Azriel can't help but feel a sense of shame at the intensity of his longing for her. He prides himself on his control, on his ability to keep his emotions in check, but she has a way of unraveling him like no one else.

And then there are the dreams - vivid and all-consuming, they play out like scenes from a forbidden fantasy, leaving Azriel feeling both exhilarated and guilty in their wake. They were friends. Just friends. Best friends, actually. And even though this urge was nothing completely unfamiliar, these thoughts had overtaken him completely as soon as she left.

Again his mind wandered. Asking himself how her lips would feel clashing against his, how she would wrap her arms around his neck, having to crane her neck for a kiss due to their height difference. What she would taste like, what sounds he could coax out of her. How those exact plush lips would feel wrapped around his cock.- A growl leaves him through clenched teeth. His eyebrows pinched as he squeezes his eyes shut, palming himself through his briefs. Confusion etched on his beautiful face then, because he just could not understand. She was his best friend, so why could he not stop thinking about her like this? Thus, so very determined, he decided that this had to change, while simultaneously fisting his heavy cock in one of his hands. "Fuck"

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I hope you enjoyed this little piece of my imagination. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! Please let me know if you'd like a part 2 :)

#acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel smut #azriel fluff #fem reader #x reader #imagine #bat boys

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perlelune · 2 months

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Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎��𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue.

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling. “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone.

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates.

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you.

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure.

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now.

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze.

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward.

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall.

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes.

“I usually walk. It’s okay.”

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit.

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest.

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him.

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand.

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny.

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body.

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused.

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach.

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time.

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl.

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room.

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you.

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion.

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles.

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table.

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?”

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time.

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says.

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently.

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event.

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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clockwayswrites · 6 months

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A Broken Sort of Normal, Part 16

WC: 756 , Masterpost CW: We loop to the start and that entails The attacks start in northern Africa. It jumps from Algeria to Egypt, across the sea to Saudi Arabia to Turkey and into Europe. By the time it hits Metropolis, resources are already stretched thin. Danny is calling in every contact, every possible help, while he follows the worst of it himself, constantly organizing the next area of triage.

As he’s attempting to wrap the tourniquet around Barry’s leg, blood slicked hands failing him, it hits Danny like one of Superman’s punches.

They are going to lose.

Barry reaches out and grips a weak hand around Danny’s wrist. “Kid?”

It’s still a stupid nickname, but through all these years Barry still used it. Through the years of dinners and disasters and Danny being welcomed into Barry’s family at Wally’s side.

And now all these wonderful, heroic, brave people that Danny had come to be friends with are going to die. The monologue happening in the middle of the street made that much clear. No hero would be spared; any chance of a future uprising would be snuffed out this very day.

Because they are going to lose.

Danny smiles softly at Barry and pries his hand away.

“Kid, whatever you’re thinking—” Barry could have no idea what Danny is thinking. No one can.

No one can, because no one knows what Danny can do.

He leaves his bag by Barry. Most of the supplies have been used up, but maybe there is still something in it that will help people.

He just wants to help people.

The monologue cuts off as Danny approaches, feet sliding on the loose concrete around the edge of the crater that the imposing figure stands in. He manages not to fall, though, and strides past Superman with his head held high. He will not cower in front of death. He faced death once before and even though this time means becoming nothing, he will not cower as he faces it again.

He has to look up to meet the being’s eyes. There’s only cruelty there. The mouth twists in a cold smirk. “Has it come to this? That they send their healer to face me?”

“No.” Danny could hear Barry shouting his name. “They didn’t send me, I came by myself.”

The laugh raises the hair on the back of Danny’s neck, but he doesn't move away.

“Pathetic! You presume yourself to be the last line of defense? You, a mere medic? You are no hero and yet you dare to stand before me? Do you not think that I could break you with a single fist?”

Danny smiles softly, and raises his hand. The man doesn’t even move, so utterly sure that Danny poses him no threat. Danny rests his hand on the man’s chest. He has to reach up to do so.

The smirk turns into a sneer. “Or do you intend to appeal to some ideal of compassion? To try and change my heart? To ask me to spare your heroes?”

Superman is screaming at him now as he struggles to stand. Danny hears him fall again.

He doesn’t take his eyes off the man who would try to rule them all with nothing but death in his wake.

“No,” Danny says, tilting his head just slightly. His eyes scan over the hardened face again. “No, I don’t think I can do that. You’ve made a mockery of death for so long that your heart is hardened. It’s a good thing I don’t need it soft.”

Intangibility is as comfortingly familiar as it is horrifying to feel again. Danny shudders as it washes over him. His hand sinks, sickeningly, through armor and skin and bone to wrap around that hardened, beating heart.

It thuds once in his grip.

Danny yanks his hand back.

Danny pulls that heart from its chest.

The man gasps— the sound a pale imitation of a breath— and then he falls.

Like he was nothing.

Less than nothing.

A man that will only be remembered with hatred.

The massive heart slips from Danny’s limp fingers. It hits the ground with a wet squelch.

Danny wavers, eyes turning up to the sky where hundreds of clones are falling like horrifying intimidations of shooting stars. A soft smile spreads over his face.

He had done it.

Will people remember him?

It isn’t why he did it.

He just wants to help people.

Wanted to.

Was someone calling his name?

There had only been one chance. It was all he needed.

They would be safe now.

Everyone would be safe.

Humanity, Barry, Iris, the Titans…

Wally…

“Danny!”

---

AN: And here we are, back in present tense (thank you @mokulule for correcting all my slips back to past tense my migrained brain didn't catch.

I would say Danny used his one moment well, wouldn't you?

But this isn't quite the end. Now that we're back in the present... I think it's about time we saw somethings from Wally's POV, don't you?

I no longer tag, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead!

#dp x dc #abson #quick death #quick death ship #danny/wally

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aethon-recs · 4 months

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23 Tomarrymort Recs for 2023 (Longfic Edition)

Happy New Year! 🤍 Here is a round-up of some of the most engaging multi-chaptered works/longfics that I came across in this ship in 2023.

I found each of these fics, in their depiction of the ship, to be a fresh or surprising take on our familiar beloved characters of Harry and Tom|Voldemort, truly groundbreaking in some way in their approach to the ship. It's amazing to me that even after 20+ years of this ship existing, there's still new themes / tropes / dynamics to explore, and the authors are all so talented in making me think about the ship in some new way — just incredible examples of what it means to be a transformative work of fanfiction.

Criteria for this list: multi-chaptered, Tomarrymort-centric, with at least 1 update published in 2023. As with a previous longfic rec list, I tried to find longer fics that were relatively under-rated (which is hard to define, but below 2K kudos for the most part).

See here for Part 1 (2023 Tomarrymort one-shots), and hope you lose many many happy hours to the unbridled joy of immersing yourself in one or more of these incredibly addictive, lovely longer fics!

23 Tomarrymort Recs for 2023 — Multi-Chaptered Fics

A Darkness by Any Other Name by river_marrow (M, 30k, WIP)

Decades after the war ends, Harry is thrown through the Veil, and finds himself in an alternate reality where the leader of the Muggleborn uprising is the Dark Lord Voldemort.

A Dead God's Faith by @selfishrot (M, 35k, WIP)

Blood and spittle rush to follow Riddle’s words that are dragged out through a wrecked throat. “I will consume you.” Harry felt a thrill run up his spine, along with the usual fear and anger that accompanied Voldemort's threats. “Be gentle, I can feel your soul ripping its stitches.”

And the Living Will Envy the Dead by @k-s-morgan (M, 81k, WIP)

When Harry looks at Tom, he feels overwhelmed. There is a spark that makes him hopeful, the fear that nothing he does will save Tom from himself, and the horror at what his lies might lead to. When Tom looks at Harry, he feels nothing. Until he does, and then Harry’s world starts drowning in blood.

At the expense of the world by @itsevanffs (E, 24k, WIP)

"He had a lover, you know," Jenkins says to Remus once Harry's behind a wall and out of sight again. "A boy, and a gorgeous one at that. Nobody really knew where he came from, and Tom didn't seem to favour him either, at first, but by the end, he was besotted."

Bitumen by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 32k, WIP)

Harry finds out the hard way that Dementors can’t digest Horcruxes. Now separated from his body, his best option is to seek out a similar soul for help. A love story about immortals with too much time to kill.

Creatures of the Dark we are by @hikarimeroperiddle (M, 25k, WIP)

Banished to his cupboard at age 4, Harry learns to listen only to the Voice in his head. Its teachings wrap all around Harry until no more than dark magic and devotion remains, along with visions of a wraith with red eyes.

Exceeding Expectations by @mosiva (E, 56k, complete)

Harry Potter’s life ran along very different lines than Tom Riddle’s. He knew nothing more of the man than he read in the Daily Prophet. Then they get stuck in a lift together.

Exegesis by liquoricepantomime (M, 38k, WIP)

In exchange for peace, Voldemort asks for Harry Potter. And so, there is a new legacy that forms — of The-Boy-Who-Was-Sold, and his childhood spent in a castle, with a man who has killed his parents. A man who is mad, and whose ire reigns fiery hell. A man he will marry, and yet knows nothing about.

found by @honbug (E, 112k, WIP)

Tom knows from the beginning that he is destined for greatness. Nothing and no one will stop him from achieving his goals. (And then, of course, there are the dreams.)

hook, line, and sinker by @purplemineralwater (E, 21k, WIP)

Harry asks Professor Riddle for help in killing Voldemort. Riddle is endlessly amused.

if we were lovers by @reggieblk (E, 277k, complete)

When Harry arrives at the most prestigious theatrical school in the country, he doesn't have many expectations. The most unexpected thing he encounters is Tom Riddle, and subsequently, falling in love with the only other person who deals with feelings as well as him. But maybe, just maybe, he and Tom will find out that not all love stories have to end in tragedy.

Lover's Spit by @pinktom & @k3uuu (E, 123k, WIP)

Following his father's arrest on a dull hot Sunday in North Yorkshire, 10-year-old Tom Riddle becomes a dark internet sensation. If Harry Potter listened to his father, he would never speak to Riddle again. But eight years after the arrest, an unexpected and painful encounter leads Harry to reconsider events — and arrive at a conclusion all his own.

One Year In Every Ten by @saintsenara (E, 189k, WIP)

A decade after the final battle, a serial killer emerges, with a message that proclaims the Dark Lord has risen again. Harry is assigned to the case.

Oversight by @dividawrites (E, 21k, WIP)

Voldemort’s resurrection ritual doesn’t go as smoothly as he’d planned. He requires assistance and there’s only one person he can ask—the boy tied to his father’s gravestone.

Paved With the Best Intentions by @perhaps-sunlight (M, 113k, WIP)

Instead of dying during the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort de-ages into an infant. Until he becomes old enough to be legally executed, he will be magically bound to Harry.

Prison Blues by @metalomagnetic (E, 68k, WIP)

Harry and Voldemort find themselves locked up in a mysterious prison in an A/B/O alternate universe setting.

Revolution of Configured Stars by @tollingreminiscentbells (E, 110k, WIP)

In a Voldemort Wins AU, Harry Potter was spared, and enters his seventh year at Hogwarts wanting to do Arithmancy research and keep his head down. However, after a chance encounter, it looks like it may not be so simple. Marvolo Gaunt seems to have his eye on Harry. The trouble is, Harry has no idea why.

Tender Reigns Our Night by @noumena-writes (M, 93k, WIP)

Sent on a Ministry mission to fight for magic's survival, Harry goes back in time with two simple objectives: find and destroy any existing Horcruxes, and stop Tom Riddle ever evolving into Voldemort — using any means necessary. Harry thus finds himself working alongside Riddle at Borgin and Burke's, examining dark artefacts and desperately trying to fulfil his orders.

the demiurge, the leontoeides by @ramabear (E, 125k, WIP)

Thomas Gaunt reaches through the dimensions and plucks an eleven-year-old Harry Potter from his world and brings him home again.

the eternal flame by @duplicitywrites (E, 25k, WIP)

There’s a well-dressed older man who enters the orphanage asking after Tom Riddle. The man’s green eyes fix on Tom’s face, searching and searching. “My name is Harry Gaunt,” the man says, the tenor of his voice soft and faltering, a reflection of Tom's deepest, most secret anxieties, “and I’m here to adopt you.”

the righteous dead by @aspengray (T, 23k, WIP)

Harry is resurrected, sewn together with thread and magic. He remembers nothing except that he loves his savior, a man named Voldemort.

The Longing by @aglassroseneverfades (M, 33k, WIP)

Harry is not thinking of his parents right now as he trudges up to Voldemort’s eerie castle. He is thinking instead, as he often does, of a name that burns too brightly on his wrist in the pre-dawn light. He is wondering if somehow the fruitless tugging on his heart means that somewhere, some way, Tom is watching over him.

With a resolute heart by Act_Naturally (M, 157k, WIP)

A Hunger Games-AU featuring Harry and Tom as competing champions. Harry has a saving people thing. It’s not conducive to surviving a battle royale. He doesn’t fancy his chances. Especially against Tom Riddle.

#tomarry #harrymort #tomarrymort #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #hp fic recs #longfic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #harrymort recs #2023 reads #2023 recs

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blooming-grove · 9 months

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*SMASH BROS ANNOUNCER VOICE*

¡¡¡¡TBH MYSO!!!!!!!

#flight rising #frfanart #fr art #hx.img #bg.txt #fr familiar #familiar uprising #Myso Fox

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scarletskiesinthepaths · 30 days

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Levi's Intelligence

Levi's intelligence is often overlooked, probably because he's compared directly to Erwin and Hange. Erwin and Hange are both extraordinarily intelligent, but Levi is immensely intelligent himself. He is able to read people (better than any other character), and he knows how to make the best use of what he has available. Many other users have done a wonderful job expanding on Levi's emotional intelligence, so I wanted to expand on some of his feats of general intelligence:

I. Ability to Both Think Long-Term and Make Quick Decisions While in the Midst of Battle

After Historia and Eren are captured by Kenny and the MPs, Levi avoids immediately chasing after them—similarly to how he approached the situation with the Female Titan. The overall strategic goal still remained keeping Historia and Eren safe, but Levi was able to recognize in the moment that chasing after them would not have successfully led to achieving that objective. Levi adapted his tactics, and the Scouts were overall more successful in their mission because of it.

Without Erwin, Levi is able to lead his remaining team to safety and take down an MP compound without casualties. They are all able to regroup and come up with a plan to rescue Eren and Historia because of Levi's quick thinking and long-term planning during this battle.

II. The Reeves Negotiation

Much has been said about Levi's kindness and compassion in this arc, about how he's interested in saving the city of Trost at no tangible benefit to himself (and after being directly mistreated by its citizens earlier in the same arc), but what I want to bring attention to is (1) that he was able to recognize the opportunity for a negotiation and (2) his skills at bargaining.

Directly after taking down the MP compound (Chapter 54: "Location of the Counterattack"), Levi and his team encounter Dimo Reeves, the boss for the Reeves Company as well as the merchant responsible for blocking the Trost gate earlier in the series. Levi is able to intuit that there is more to Dimo Reeves' "deal" with the MPs than meets the eye, so he brings Dimo Reeves outside to look over Trost together and converse. This demonstrates Levi's skill at reading people. No other character had indicated an interest in holding a conversation about Dimo's motives.

Dimo reveals how the Reeves Company has been at the mercy of the Interior MPs and how he has been following the MPs' orders to avoid getting immediately killed and losing everything—to protect his employees and their families. This conversation directly leads to a negotiation and then a deal being formed between the Scouts and the Reeves Company.

When Levi is laying out the conditions for the deal, it is evident that Dimo does not seem initially receptive. Levi uses the word "trust," which Dimo balks at.

However, Levi's third condition, which is actually the most unimportant and superfluous one, results in Dimo accepting the deal. Why?

"Seems you're even greedier than a merchant." Dimo says this, as he is familiar at interacting with and respects other merchants. Levi added the third condition in, not simply because he wants tea and other luxurious goods, but because it brings himself down to Dimo's level. Without this condition, the deal may not have gone through. It is exactly this condition that results in Dimo "trusting" Levi as an equal.

This negotiation is also more evidence toward Levi's ability to think long-term. This deal between the Scouts and the Reeves Company benefits the Scouts for the remainder of the series.

III. Luring Kenny Into a Bar

Expanding on Levi's ability to make quick decisions while in the midst of battle, one of the best examples of this is Levi's first encounter with Kenny during the Uprising arc, where Levi lures Kenny into a bar and is able to defeat him as a result.

This goes beyond Ackerman prowess, as that is more related to superhuman strength and heightened combat reflexes. This is specifically a feat of intelligence; it's a sign of Levi's ingenuity—using aspects of the environment to his advantage. By luring Kenny into a bar, Levi is able to procure a weapon to even the playing field. Kenny himself is impressed and adds in that Levi was not taught these tactics by him. Some of the specific tactics of note:

III.a Use of Reflection

Levi is able to procure a shotgun while simultaneously taking cover from Kenny. He converses with Kenny to keep Kenny focused on him and not the bar's patrons, and even though Levi is facing away from Kenny, he uses the reflection off the alcohol's glass to properly aim the shotgun.

III.b Chair and Figuring Out the Firearms' Weakness

Levi knew he was going to be ambushed from up top as soon as he left the bar, so he threw a chair out the window to both distract and waste his opponents' shots. I'm fairly certain Levi was the first one to notice the main weakness of the anti-personnel vertical maneuvering equipment.

The main weakness, as Armin explains above in a later chapter, is that they need to reload after shooting twice. Levi first threw a chair, forcing one of his opponents to shoot twice, kills that opponent, and then uses that opponent's body as a shield against the other two guys' shots.

IV. Final Battle - Infers Immediately Armin is Alive

This one is pretty self-explanatory, but Levi is the first to infer that Armin has to be alive, given the way Titan powers work. As such, Levi is able to keep the others focused on the battle in front of them, knowing that Armin is alive and unharmed. This again speaks to Levi's quick thinking while in the midst of battle; it is often more difficult to make these sorts of judgments while in a fight-or-flight situation. Keep in mind as well that Levi is also grievously injured here, so it is even more impressive, how quickly he's able to make this inference.

V. Final Battle - Leadership and Planning

Full stop, the Alliance would not have succeeded without Levi, and part of that is because of Levi's ability to take charge and come up with a plan. This is the plan that they followed throughout the entire duration of the Battle of Heaven and Earth, and it is a plan Levi came up with, directly in response to an unexpected change in circumstances.

This again shows off Levi's skill in adjusting tactics to achieve a strategic objective. Even though the commanders are the ones often in charge of this, Levi is clearly very capable and adept at this himself. Right before this panel, everyone was arguing on how to proceed. Levi came up with the best overall plan, and in addition to that, formulated the two teams required to carry out that plan.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #levi aot #aot #snk #attack on titan meta #aot meta #levi ackerman meta #c: levi ackerman #c: dimo reeves #aot.meta #meta.levi #my thoughts

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zazter-den · 7 months

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Foul-Mouthed Frit | Stained Glass Circumstances Ch. 1

Series: Snippet #1, Snippet #2, Current

Synopsis- All stained glass begins as frit, but you're not as frit of the warrior in front of you as you probably should be.(Main Scene: Bakugou, Aftercare: Kirishima).

Warnings- Coerced NonCon, Oral Knotting, CumVom, Choking, Clothes Tearing, Degradation, Overstim, Org Denial, Slap(giving), Forced Bond, King/Consort Dynamic, Alt A/B/O, Yandere Bakugou.

Tags- Fantasy AU, BarbarianKing!Bakugou, Dragon!Kirishima, KingConsort!Reader, Black Haired Reader, Isekai, Creampie, Chin Grab, Excessive Seed, Aftercare.

Word Count- 7700, Chapter 1

Your heart thumped against your ribs, unease and curiosity battling it out, as you stood before the imposing blond warrior. On a good day, you couldn't help but feel out of place in the simple hand-me-down dress, a one of few mercies you received from the cold villagers when you arrived. Standing here in front of the decorated barbarian within the confines of the grandiose war tent, you felt dressed in little more than rags. Was this man here to finish the villager's sad attempt at uprising? Surely non-lethal injuries to a handful of soldiers, even if severe, didn't warrant a general's (or whoever's) presence.

Why am I here? I wasn't even involved.

The bodice of the scratchy dress felt nearly too tight to breathe, a physical pressure to match the growing weight of dread settling in your bones. It had been a month since your watery arrival to this world, but it hadn't taken long to miss your modern clothes, modern stressors, and the familiarity of home. A pang of longing shot through you like a static shock, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the intimidating figure ahead.

A shiver ran down your spine as you met the blond's piercing blood red gaze. His throne, made from the bones of fallen beasts long dead and a patterned patchwork of leather, only amplified the imposing aura surrounding him. With each passing moment, you couldn't help but feel like a small, insignificant creature in the presence of a predator.

"Pint-sized for a dragon, aren't ya?" the barbarian growled, his gruff voice boomed in the tense silence, tone heavy with amused disdain. A predatory smirk adorned his face, highlighting his intimidating yet undeniably attractive features. "You're quite the fuckin' anomaly."

Your eyes widened at his words, and for a moment you forgot your unease. You had become so used to the weight by this point that you honestly almost forgot. A hand instinctively went to touch the base of the draconic crystal horns that jutted back from your hairline, a bizzarre feature you had woken to on the lake shore, a side effect of the magic that had forced your entry to this unfamiliar world.

All of the lakeside villagers were human, but you had learned enough about this world's inhabitants to know that that you weren't a true dragon like the ones the citizens of this realm were familiar with—those with wings, a tail, and true dragon features. You are, at your core, still human, and really the horns were the only evidence to suggest otherwise. The asshole wasn't entirely wrong in calling you a mystery.

"Can tell you're no real dragon, some sorta bastard maybe" he remarked, rumbly voice smug. "Though I admit, those crystal horns of yours are intriguing 'nough. You'll pass as an addition to my collection."

You blinked once, twice, as you struggled for a mere second to process the words coming out of the pompous man's mouth before time seemed to resume again.

Should you have been scared? Probably.

But you weren't.

Your eyes narrowed to near slits with incredulity as you peered up at him. White hot anger filled your veins, fear of the undoubtedly dangerous strange warrior forgotten. Being a newcomer to the realm, you couldn't quite comprehend the gravity of the situation in standing before the man in front of you. Being an outsider to the village and their rebellion, also meant you weren't aware yet just how low cowards will sink to save their own skin.

" 'Collection'? " You repeated, scoffing loudly at his arrogance. The gall of him had your nerves shot and common sense short circuiting. All pretenses of appearing as a polite peasant were now firmly out the window, all bets were off. After a month of biting your tongue to rude villagers as you struggled to adjust to your new life, it felt amazing to spit exactly what you were thinking. "Who the fuck do you think you are, blondie?”

The fair haired barbarian's grin only widened at your boldness, relishing the rare occurance. It wasn't often someone had a big enough death wish to challenge him face to face.

"O, sweetheart, not just any 'blondie'," he sneered, weighing the weight his words had on you. "I'm yer fuckin' king." Enjoying the way shock washed over your face, anger clearly forgotten, overshadowed by the realization that you were standing before the most dangerous man in the kingdom.

King Bakugou's amusement was evident as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction at your dumbstruck face. "D'ya wanna know why you're standin' in front of me?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "They offered ya to me, little anomaly," the barbaric royal continued, the corners of his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A barter for their miserable lives after a pitiful 'scuse of a rebellion."

You were shocked, your eyes meeting his with furious disbelief. "So, people I barely know, GAVE me to you to spare themselves?" your words were laced with anger and a sense of betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of their craven desperation. Sure, they were cold to strangers, but to sacrifice you for their own lives wasn't something you had thought was even a possibility. Had it really been so foolish to want to believe they were finally warming up to you?

The barbarian king's expression hardened as he replied, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "Ya should feel honored," he snapped, his blood red eyes narrowing. Rising from his intimidating throne of giant bone and beast hide, he closed the distance between them with a purposeful stride. The sound of his heavy boots thudded against the packed ground within the war tent until he loomed over you.

“I rarely take consorts,” King Bakugou's hand shot out and firmly grasped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his piercing gaze. His touch was harsh, a firm reminder of the physical might that Bakugou wielded when he so chose. Your heart pounding in your chest as his fingernails dug into your jawline. Leaning in close, his face mere inches away from yours, his voice dropped to a low, dangerous rumble as he continued speaking. “especially not runt freaks like you." The disdain in the cold blooded king's tone sent a chill down your spine.

Your heart dropped, The weight of the revelation pressed heavy against your chest. Mind racing with anger and betrayal as you grappled with the harsh reality of your situation. You had only been in this unfamiliar realm for barely a few weeks and now you stood before the formidable barbarian king, a man who held the power of life and death over countless warriors and civilians alike.

It didn't take years of education, or really much common sense, to know the dangerous consequences of defying a medieval tyrant. You knew you had to keep your anger in check, to try to bite your tongue and submit. At least for now.

Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into that fucking tent, and survival was now officially the priority.

King Bakugou's sadistic enjoyment of the situation was plain as he ruthlessly analyzed your appearance, his gaze lingering on the translucent crystal horns with an almost dismissive glance. "Yer horns are clear, nothin' special," he remarked, his voice dripping with annoyance. It was clear that your unique crystalline features held little significance in his opinion. However, as his eyes roamed down your body, a more sinister gleam sparked within them.

"Body, on the other hand, is fine enough for a concubine," the blond added with a twisted smirk, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. The shift of the dress' neckline sent a shiver down your spine, baring your shoulder to his inspection. Your heart beat faster as King Bakugou's piercing eyes bore into you, his actions invasive and dehumanizing. Your throat constricted in response to the humiliating position you found yourself in. Even having to resist the urge to pull your chin away from his grasp, knowing that defiance would only lead to suffering of some variety.

His eyes swept over your neck and shoulder, searching for any sign of a scar, any indication that you already belonged to another. You kept your gaze to the side, unnerved by the intensity of his bloody stare, a shiver rippled down your spine as his touch almost seemed to burn your skin.

"Good," he declared, a twisted smile tugging at his lips as his hot breath ghosting over the exposed skin. "No claim."

King Bakugou wasted no time in closing the remaining distance. Swiftly leaning down, he sank his canines into the smooth flesh with a forceful bite. However, unlike true mating, the barbaric blond did not release the necessary venom that would solidify an actual bond between souls.

The lack of numbing venom caused a sharp hiss to escape your lips, a mix of agony and indignation flooding your system. You might not have been here long and you certainly were no expert, but you knew the basics of mating marks, this world's lifelong courtship. It was a deliberate move, a clear reinforcement that he had no intentions of making you his equal partner in this arrangement. After all, you were merely a plaything, to be toyed with. You should be thankful not to be bound to the barbarian's soul, and yet you couldn't ignore the obvious insult. Or the pain.

The unexpected stabbing pain of fang sinking into flesh triggered a reflexive response, causing you to shove and slap Bakugou's face in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grasp. The crack of your palm connecting with his cheek seemed to echo in the massive war tent, leaving a bright red handprint in its wake and a streak of crimson trailing down the king's chin.

The barbarian's eyes glowed with fierce delight, his feral nature taking enjoyment in the defiance of his new concubine. Despite the stinging pain in his cheek and the split in the corner of his upper lip from the strike, a low chuckle escaped King Bakugou's lips. "You've got guts, shitty horns, I'll give ya that much" he growled, his voice laced with a dark amusement as his tongue flicked over his split lip.

If you thought your heart was racing before, it certainly paled to the drumbeat it was pounding now.

You had dared to challenge the king, to strike him in a moment of instinct. If the tyrant himself marched to this village over a few maimed soldiers, what exactly was your punishment going to be? A part of you regretted the impulsive action, aware that it would only fuel the bestial nature of the tyrant and likely add to your own suffering...But another part of you couldn't suppress the thrill that surged through you when you slapped the shit out of him. You might be trapped in this new situation but you refused to be completely meek, cowering at his feet.

You would submit. But only as much as you had to.

As King Bakugou's wicked chuckle echoed in the confines of the tent, he swiped away the droplets of blood that trickled down his split lip, relishing in the taste. "Spirited whore, ha?" he continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You'll learn. 'Til then, I'm gonna enjoy breaking that attitude of yours."

Your breathing grew shallow as you just stared at the king, mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You knew full well that true defiance would only bring more challenges, but still a small ember of resistance burned. You would not surrender completely, no matter the threat. And even bolstered with the courage of the dissociative haze that emotionally numbed you to the consequences of your actions, you still knew the danger was very real.

The red glistening imprint of his bite marked your delicate skin, a reminder of his sadistic tendencies and the cruel pleasure he derived from such acts. Your body trembled in frustration, mind grappling with the complex storm of emotions that threatened to take over reason. You may have to play the role forced on you but you would bide your time, until the opportunity presented itself.

And so began the balancing act.

"Your position, in this territory," the warrior king continued, his voice dripping with gruff superiority, "is t'be at my beck and call. You exist to serve my needs now, like any other fuckin' whore. An' rest assured, you will serve me well." With those words, he spun you around and pressed your abdomen hard against the tent's solid wood table, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"Lemme show you your new role," Bakugou sneered, voice filled with dark promise. With one swift motion, he pulled the rough dress up to rest on your hips, baring your body to his gaze. His eyes hungrily took in your curves, his fingers ran up the exposed skin of your thighs and hips. Feeling his rough fingers trail over the sensitive areas of your thighs, you could feel yourself getting lost in the intensity of the touch.

The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as King Bakugou ripped apart the too-tight bodice, buttons popping off as your breasts spilled free from the barely reinforced fabric. His knees pressed painfully firm against the back of yours, effortlessly spreading your shaky legs apart. The motion trapped your hips against the edge of the table and exposed your pussy to to his gaze. Breath hitched as you felt the large tip of his hardened cock pressing against your slick entrance. Every inch of your body tensed. Judging from the thickness of his head alone, the lean warrior was larger than you expected him to be. Bakugou's girth tested your cunt's limits, forced to stretch wide. Initial entry was rough, inch by inch, as your pussy's tight walls struggled to accommodate the impressive length of the barbaric king's dick. The pleasurable ache making you fight to maintain composure.

Leaning forward on your forearms for support, your chest squished against the cold surface of the table. Fingernails dug into the smooth wood, your knuckles turning white with each of Bakugou's punishing thrusts. An unexpected surge of arousal coursed through your veins, and you decided to embrace the inevitable pleasure that his pace promised to bring.

Despite your feelings on the turn of events, your body responded to his coarse treatment, for the distracting orgasm and mind-numbing hormones that lay tantalizingly within reach. Determined to find some semblance of pleasure within your new prison, you forced yourself to shift your perspective. If you were going to be forced to be an object of desire, you may as well revel in the physical gratification it offered and claw back any benefit you could until you made your move.

As the table rocked against the packed dirt floor of the tent with each forceful thrust, the warrior royal couldn't resist mocking you. His voice was filled sadistic amusement. "Where'd all that fire go?" he taunted, amused by the contrast between your previous defiance and your current submissive state. "Don't tell me I already fucked it out of ya."

Your aching walls had struggled to accommodate his girth initially, causing you to tense up. You had to focus on consciously relaxing your body, allowing him to fuck you with more ease. The mixture of discomfort and increasing pleasure sent waves of heat coursing through your body, intensifying your arousal. At this point, you couldn't tell whether the fact that rough sex made your cunt leak like a faucet was a pro or a con.

You really couldn't help but snap back, voice loaded with a defiant edge. "You really like the sound of your own voice, huh, 'Your Highness'?" you quipped harshly, rolling your eyes knowing he would be unable to see, as you were swept up by the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked against the table.

Undeterred by your attempt at disrespect, Bakugou leaned forward over your bare back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The warrior king's voice dripped with amusement as he addressed your lack of fear. "You're really not scared of me, are ya?" the blond chuckled sharply, the feeling of his hot breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Give it time," he sneered, his grip on your erect nipples tightening as he pinched and pulled. With a choked moan, your body arched instinctively in response, a symphony of conflicting sensations flooding your body.

Your black curls bounced with each punishing thrust, your body pressed against the dull edge of the table, the hard surface digging into your hips with a force that promised to leave bruised reminders of your afternoon in the days to come. The brutal intensity behind Bakugou's movements overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless and at his mercy.

Just when you thought you had found a rhythm, just when you though you were getting close to finally cumming- the royal bastard abruptly withdrew, his cock's sizeable head dragging along the walls of your dripping passage. A soft indignant gasp escaped your lips as the sudden emptiness left you yearning for release. Inner walls involuntarily clenched in a futile attempt to hold onto the fleeting pleasure, not that you would ever admit it out loud.

He took a moment to enjoy your needy frustration before thrusting back inside with renewed intensity. Each powerful movement caused your body to arch and quiver in response, teetering on the razor's edge between ecstasy and torment. Despite the lingering defiance in your heart, your cunt betrayed you, subconsciously craving the pleasure that Bakugou pounded into you. The aching bite at the junction of your neck felt hot, as your nipples squeezed between his vice-like fingers.

Your walls eagerly embraced the renewed pounding, tightening around him in a desperate attempt to hold onto the pleasure he provided. The overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure sent shockwaves through your body, sparking sensations that threatened to consume entirely. As the table creaked under the combined weight, your gasps and moans filled the air, merging with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and groaning wood. The intensity of the king's pace, each thrust pushing you closer to cumming around the thick cock slamming in and out of your needy hole.

As your body neared the peak of pleasure, King Bakugou enjoyed the control he had over you, keeping that orgasm just out of reach. Each time you felt the pleasure building within you reach that breaking point, he would cruelly withdraw, denying you much needed relief. The frustration reached a boiling point,as your walls involuntarily clenched desperately around the thick ridge of his cockhead in a feeble attempt to keep it inside.

"Stop fucking teasing me!" you shot over your shoulder in irritation. The pleasure that coursed through your veins was distracting, clouding your mind and amplifying your need to cum. The denial of your orgasm left you on the edge in what felt like a perpetual state of yearning, body aching for the release that the feral blond held in his cruel grasp.

As King Bakugou repositioned himself, angling his thrusts to target your most sensitive spots, and the pleasurable torment of denial continued. The conflicting sensations pushed you further towards either heaven or hell. With how your legs trembled with both the overstimulation of your poor pussy's stretched walls and the unbearable need to cum, you weren't sure which you were closer to.

"Ha? Think ya forgot who serves who here," bloody eyes narrowing as he sneered, his arrogant tone held an unrestrained hunger. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he drank in your frustration. He took great sadistic pleasure in this game. Knowing that, despite your protests, he had the power to bring you to the edge of cumming and keep. You. Trapped. There.

As the twisted dance between pleasure and denial continued, your body reacted eagerly to every movement, cunt walls fluttering near constantly in desperate need of fulfillment. Each time King Bakugou withdrew, your inner muscles clenched around the massive disappearing tip, another futile attempt to hold onto the pleasure that slipped through your grasp.

Wet, squelching sounds filled the air as he pounded back into your gushing pussy. The table beneath you was sticky with your juices, and his blood red gaze spotted a string of viscous slick suspended mid-air between the edge of the table and the packed dirt floor below.

With each turn of Bakugou's cruel cycle, a symphony of profanity spilled from your parted lips. Your body shook with the weight of unfulfilled lust, aching for the relief that seemed cruelly just out of reach. The rise and fall of your emotions danced in harmony with the motion of their bodies, humiliating frustration fueling your foul mouthed whimpers.

"'N fact," Bakugou laughed, gruff voice filled with sadistic glee, "I think that tongue o' yours has earned ya a punishment."

The barbarian's fingers curled around your quartz horns, his grip possessive and firm. As his grip tightened, you barely felt the dull ache spreading from the base of your horns through the haze of pleasure and overstimulation. The strain on your neck was evident, your head tilted back to reveal the garnet red bite print marring your exposed skin.

With a deliberate slowness, King Bakugou pulled back on your crystalline horns, his hold firmly guiding you until your upper body was no longer supported by the table's wooden surface. Weakened by the cruel cycle of ecstasy and denial imposed on you, your legs trembled with the effort to remain upright. The shift in position caused a head rush as you fought to remain standing upright. Turns out, you wouldn't need to fight that battle for long.

Using your horns as a guide, Bakugou yanked you down to kneel before him. Obediently following his command, your weakened knees sunk against the hard packed dirt beneath you. The shift in posture brought about a new level of submission, body now positioned at his feet, ready to fulfill the king's desires.

Bakugou's massive member hung heavy above you, his imposing figure towering over as he peered down with cruel superiority. "Ever get your mouth washed out with soap?" he sneered, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

With a snarky retort already forming on the tip of your tongue, you opened your mouth to deliver a biting response. However, in that moment of distraction, the massive cock head shoved past your lips, the sudden intrusion catching you off-guard. A muffled gag sound escaped your throat, eyes widening in surprise as King Bakugou claimed your mouth with little mercy. Musk filled your senses, the unexpected violation left you momentarily stunned. Your eyes watered as you struggled to accommodate his size, jaw stretched to its limits while King Bakugou hissed in pleasure at the feel of your hot tongue against his dick.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips, muffled by Bakugou's large cock as he took advantage of the opening you unwittingly provided and began to thrust. The rough motion caused your tongue to press against the underside of the massive member, tasting both of you. The initial shock gave way to a mix of conflicting sensations - humiliation, arousal, and a begrudging surrender.

Your throat constricted around the tip of his dick as you fought against your body's instinctive gag reflex. The taste of your combined arousal filled your mouth, the combination of his precum and your own slick coating your tongue with every thrust. With each attempt, guided by the iron grip he held on your crystalline horns, you managed to swallow a little more of his length, throat stretching in an attempt to accommodate his girth. The barbaric king's control remained unyielding. He roughly guided your movements with an unwavering grip on your horns, forcing the pace at which you took him deeper. The sight of your struggle only made him grip you tighter, setting a faster pace.

You looked good, all fuckdrunk at his feet, submitting to his desires without question.

With each inch you took down your throat, your breathing became increasingly labored. Your eyes flitted upwards as much as possible, trying to meet his gaze as you continued to obey his every command. Teary eyes pleaded for mercy, yearning for the release that was just out of reach, as you continued to let King Bakugou's thrust into your throat. Bakugou locked gazes with you. It wasn't that he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes, all watery and unfocused, but it didn't certainly have the outcome you were begging for. His pace sped up, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his climax.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion and as you felt a new ridge near the base of his cock begin to swell. It took you by surprise, lips forced to start to form an O-shape as you struggled to comprehend what was happening. You mumbled uselessly around the resulting barrier, only managing to press your tongue harder against the enlarged gland.

"Never seen an alpha before?" King Bakugou asked incredulously, the tone of his voice heavy with pompous amusement. "Ya really are a fuckin' freak, this'll be fun" he added, sadistically excited for the surprise in store for you.

The swelling knot created a tight seal against your teeth, effectively trapping your tongue in a frenzy of desperate, frantic movements. As his lust hit a peak, Bakugou looked down at you with dark satisfaction, the intensity of his gaze piercing into your very being. His words cut through the pounding of blood in your ears, his mean grin widening.

"Y're gonna want to breathe through your nose when ya can," he instructed as his hips started to stutter, cruel grin never faltering. "For the next ten minutes at least." He took great joy in the power he held over you, knowing full well the challenge he was about to present. His groans of pleasure were the only warning of his orgasm that you got besides the pulse of his knot, before waves of warm cum were cascading down your throat. You fought against the rising panic, you just needed to relax you told yourself. The taste of his seed flooded the back of your throat, your lips stretched around his swollen knot, as you braced yourself to endure the minutes to come.

Your breathing grew ragged as you tried to comply with the barbaric king's instruction, the pressure of his spurts down your throat sending your body into a state of sensory overload. Each surge of his cum filled the back of your mouth, forcing you to swallow to make room for more, so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. Nose pressed against the coarse, orange wires of his pubic hair, your breaths coming in short gasps as you struggled to find enough air.

Your sore throat bobbed with each gulp, lips sealed tightly around Bakugou's pulsing knot. You followed his instructions, taking quick breaths through flared nostrils whenever his spurts allowed a moment of respite. As you continued to swallow the seemingly never-ending load, your eyes watered and throat contracted around the royal's throbbing cock. Bakugou ran his thumb over your neck, tracing over the ridge his twitching cockhead made in your throat, causing you to choke and sputter, your reflexive gag wrapped around his dick.

The primal sounds of you gagging and swallowing seemed to fuel Bakugou, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he reveled in your struggle to regain control of your reflexes. He found the cruel game fun, knowing that you had to drink every single drop or be overwhelmed by the seed that filled your mouth. As the barbaric king rolled his hips, his cock milked one last time by your tight walls, the deflating knot slipped past your teeth with a squelching pop. You felt each inch slowly withdraw from your pained throat, eliciting a mix of both relief and a weird sense of emptiness. Your jaw ached from the strain, throat raw and bruised from the rough treatment. Cum dripped from your swollen lips, a shiny string dripping towards the ground between your knees.

You leaned back against the leg of the heavy table, body boneless and weak from the intense sex. Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, senses still reeling from the experience. The taste of his cum still lingered in your mouth, a reminder of of just how well you had performed your role.

His cruel grin twisted with satisfaction as he held your weak chin with his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your glassy gaze to meet his blood red eyes. The arrogance in his voice was evident as he spoke, his words laced with a mocking tone.

"You did well, little whore," King Bakugou taunted, "Maybe you'll last longer than the others." His words cut through you like a knife, a reminder of your place and his complete control over the situation.

And it only got worse.

Your stomach churned, the fullness from consuming the sheer volume of cum you did, mixed with the exhaustion and strain on your body. It was rapidly becoming too much to bear. The taste of his bitter seed lingered in your mouth, adding to the increasing waves of nausea that welled up. With shaky legs, you bolted towards the clean bucket next to the table, a hand clamped over your mouth. Face contorted in anguish as you reached it just in time, hunching over and emptying the viscous contents of your stomach into the wood container, a curtain of dark curls obscuring the action.

Wave after wave of white, thick cum splashed into the bucket. Your throat burned even more from the forceful expulsion, tears streaming down your face as you tried to catch your breath between stomach spasms and hiccups.

Meanwhile, Bakugou simply rolled his crimson eyes in annoyance. He watched with a scowl as you succumbed to the ill effects of being orally knotted for first time, his own sense of satisfaction completely unaffected. The king redressed himself in his leather breeches, his muscular chest displayed proudly. He made no move to help or console you, instead commenting with a disdainful tone

"Y're gonna have to get better at that," he sneered, his dissatisfaction with the newest addition to his collection clear as day. Without a backward glance, he exited the tent, leaving you seething with roiling resentment.

As you continued to glare daggers at his retreating back over the rim of the bucket, an unbreakable determination burned in your eyes. The interaction had further solidified your disdain for the barbarian king. One way or another, you swore to yourself, you were going to find a way to make that man miserable.

Bakugou made his way through the field, his strides thudding quickly across the field. His blood red eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the lush greenery and wind rustling through the grass and leaves. In the distance, he spotted Captain Kirishima, his towering figure standing tall on a hill overlooking the lake.

The captain of the king's guard, tall and muscular, wore his signature dark grey uniform adorned with a crimson cloak denoting his station. His mane of long, vibrant red hair cascaded down his back, and his curved ruby horns glinted in the late afternoon light. Nearing a staggering seven feet, Kirishima towered over most humans and dragons alike. With a languid stretch of his wings and tail, he looked every bit the formidable dragon he was. Even though his stature was imposing- off the battlefield, there was a softness to his facial features, a warmth in his scarlet eyes that contradicted his formidable appearance.

Stretching his wings and tail with a contented yawn, Kirishima paused mid-spread as he noticed his long time friend approaching. His scarlet eyes widened in alarmed confusion as he caught sight of the split upper lip on the king's face.

"What happened to your lip?" Kirishima asked baffled, his tail and wings still unintentionally frozen extended as he waited.

Bakugou's grin widened, his blood-red eyes shining with a mischievous glint. He licked his split upper lip, savoring the sting that still lingered from your bold and unexpected slap. The memory of the defiance brought a twisted satisfaction to the king.

"Hah! The village's 'peace offering' turned out fiesty" he responded, a hint of admiration laced within his tone. The fact that you had the audacity to strike him, the mighty Murder King Bakugou, had caught the barbarian off guard at the time, but it definitely made you more interesting.

Kirishima's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, his tail flicking. "They attacked you?" he asked taken aback, “Are they still breathing?” The captain knew that the barbaric ruler was not one to tolerate defiance easily, let alone physical attempts to challenge his authority. Kirishima's mind flooded with questions, but he kept them to himself as he awaited further explanation from his commanding king.

Bakugou's smug grin widened even further, his blood red eyes sparkling with perverse delight. "Oh, they're alive," he responded, his voice dripping with a sadistic satisfaction, "Just paying for their little outburst, that's all."

The words hung in the air, the implication clear. The king's tone hinted at the punishment the new consort was enduring in the privacy of the tent.

Although he hadn't yet met the new concubine, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy towards them. Having grown up with the royal, he knew firsthand the levels of wrath Bakugou could reach. Despite these conflicting emotions, Kirishima's primary concern was ensuring the well-being of those in the king's care, even if it meant treading carefully in the sea of Bakugou's own volatile temper. It often fell to the loyal captain to keep the king from committing actions he would regret later. Well, less regret and more inconvenience him.

"'n fact, you're on babysitting duty while I deal with the village," Bakugou said, the murderous glint in his bloody eyes betraying his enjoyment of the situation. The king's command echoed in Kirishima's ears, causing his ruby scaled tail to stiffen and his broad shoulders to tense.

Kirishima let out a silent exhale, disappointment etched across his face as he processed the news. In truth, he had hoped that Bakugou would choose to spare the villagers and seek a peaceful resolution instead of resorting to violence. The captain believed that the actions of a few rebels should not warrant bloodshed on such a scale. After all, the villagers had made multiple peace offerings to appease the barbaric king, it felt like a breach of honor for Bakugou to now go back on that agreement.

However, Kirishima knew better than to openly challenge his friend's authority. He respected the position Bakugou held and understood the consequences of rebellion. Biting his tongue, Kirishima buried his disappointment and gave a casual bow to his commanding ruler, before making his way towards the tent on the hilltop.

Kirishima stepped into the large tent, his unfurled wings brushing against the side as he entered. His wings, magnificent and majestic, spanned wide, their vibrant ruby scales shimmering under the soft glow of the tent's filtered light. The ruby scales continued down the length of his long, sinuous tail, adding a touch of elegance to his formidable presence.

As his fiery ruby eyes landed on you, Kirishima's first thought was one of surprise. The person who had struck King Bakugou looked a lot less imposing than he had anticipated. You, unlike the powerful and intimidating dragons Kirishima was used to, stood before him at a mere average human stature. If that. The only discernible dragon feature you possessed were the crystal dragon horns that adorned your head, gleaming subtly in the low lit tent. His scaled tail swayed slightly, displaying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your eyes widened as they met Kirishima's for the first time, and your body tensed instinctively. You had been thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, by your round with Bakugou. Your throat was raw and voice gone, leaving you unable to deliver the defiant expletives you desperately wanted to snarl at the imposing dragon that had just entered the tent. But your voice failed you, leaving you with only one avenue of expression.

With a fierce hiss, you expelled every ounce of ferocity you had left buried within. Your body tensed, lips curling back in a display of bare teeth. The hiss reverberated within the confines of the tent, a desperate attempt to communicate defiance to Kirishima, to convey that you would not be dominated or humiliated any further today.

The captain took a step back, scarlet eyes swept over your form, they couldn't help but notice the torn remnants of your bodice on the floor and the ripped dress clinging to your body. The rips and tears spoke volumes of the intense encounter you had undergone at the hands of King Bakugou. His gaze then landed on the mark that marred the delicate skin of your neck—an unmistakable claim.

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mind reeling with the implications.

As a dragon, Kirishima understood the significance of such a bite - it bound two souls together, sealing their connection as life partners in a way that couldn't be severed. When done correctly.

Marking a consort with a claim without fully mating them was not unheard of, but it was generally met with extreme judgment. Claims in terms of mating were typically reserved for life partners, a commitment that extended beyond physical desire. Nobles, known for their fickle nature and ever-shifting loyalties, often chose to mark their consorts with more temporary symbols, such as collars.

The ornate collars allowed the royals to easily discard their concubines when they grew bored. The nobility were notorious for their fickleness and often left their consorts behind as they moved on to fresh pursuits. By marking a consort with a bite with no intention of making you an equal, Bakugou had not only defied what little merciful convention held by the upper class but also inflicted a cruel fate upon you in Kirishima's eyes. The mark would make it near impossible for you to find a true mate, forever branded as the king's property.

Kirishima couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment towards his lifelong friend. While he knew the barbarian ruler's tendencies on the battlefield, he hadn't thought Bakugou would exhibit such cruelty towards a consort, knowing you would likely be discarded at some point. Kirishima's own sense of honor and loyalty clashed with the conflicting emotions he felt, itching at the back of his mind as he observed the vulnerable state you found yourself in.

The captain's gaze lingered on your throat, noticing the subtle signs of strain and discomfort. The realization for the hissing aggression struck Kirishima like a bolt of lightning. You had lost your voice, and it wasn't due to natural causes or illness. No, it became clear to him that it was likely a result of your first tryst with King Bakugou, an experience that he could only imagine had been rough and brutal, throat rubbed raw from the repetitive acts demanded of you.

Feeling a surge of empathy, Captain Kirishima decided to ease the intimidating aura he unintentionally projected. He understood that his imposing stature must be overwhelming to you, given the turn of events. He folded his wings against his back, their vibrant red membranes pressed tightly together, confining their expansive span. The act served to minimize his physical presence, making him appear less threatening. He slouched slightly, adopting a more relaxed stance, and kept his hands visible, showing that he meant no harm. It was a deliberate display of non-aggression, aimed at putting you at ease, or at least as much at ease as one could be in such circumstances.

The red dragon's eyes softened as he noticed the weary look on your face. He could see the exhaustion etched into every line, body still trembling from the recent ordeals you had endured. Determined to offer some solace in this tumultuous situation, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With slow deliberate steps, Kirishima moved away from you and towards a pile of chests near the entrance of the war tent. These chests contained spoils from the village, items meant to appease the king after their attack on his soldiers. Kirishima knew that among them, there was a chest filled with garments. Opening one of the chests, he carefully sifted through the contents until he found a fine yet simple dress that roughly matched your size.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kirishima's lips as he gently tossed the dress onto the table, positioning it between the tow of you. Its delicate fabric fluttering in the air before settling down over the wood. It was a small gesture, but meant to convey that he harbored no ill intentions.

It was a silent message that you deserved respect and dignity, even in this tumultuous situation.

Sensing that you needed some space to collect yourself and change, Kirishima took a much smaller chest from the pile. He left the tent, giving you room to breathe and reckon with the pent-up emotions that surely swirled like storm clouds.

As the cool mountain breeze blew through his hair, Kirishima found a suitable spot a few paces from the tent, overlooking the serene lake in the warm hues of late afternoon light. With deftness and precision, he constructed a small firepit, arranging the rocks in a circle. As the dragon exhaled softly, a gentle stream of fire escaped his lips, the light glinting off his curved ruby horns. The flickering flames danced and crackled, casting a comforting glow over the hilltop.

As the captain patiently waited for the water to heat, he glanced back towards the war tent, briefly catching sparkle of your horns through the opening. His heart went out to you. Though he understood the gravity of Bakugou's actions, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of responsibility in making sure you felt as comfortable as possible, despite the circumstances.

Just as the water in the kettle neared boiling, Kirishima activated his innate talent. His hands hardened, gaining an impressive durability that allowed him to handle the intense heat without harm. With a swift motion, he reached for the kettle, hands possessing the resilience of a dragon's scales. His grip was confident and steady as he effortlessly removed the kettle from the fire, preventing the water from boiling. He gently tossed the healing tea leaves into the kettle, watching as they swirled and danced in the near-boiling water. The soothing aroma of the tea began to waft through the air, carrying with it hints of delicate flowers and calming herbs.

With a careful hand, Kirishima reached into the tea chest, procuring a magnificent stained glass teacup that shimmered in hues of red and amber. Draconic stained glass was a rarity, prized for its strength and ethereal beauty. The light of the late sun cascaded through the vibrant colors, casting an enchanting glow on his hands.

Unwrapping the glass bottles, the captain uncorked the crystallized honey and yuzu peel. He slowly poured a generous amount of honey into the teacup, its golden texture illuminated by the sunlight. Next, he added a pinch of the fragrant dried yuzu peel, allowing its subtly sweet and citrusy scent to infuse the air. These ingredients held healing properties, meant to soothe and restore vitality to worn souls. The captain took extra care, ensuring that the precise balance of ingredients was met, creating a concoction that he hoped would bring some measure of comfort to your weary spirit.

With a quiet exhale, Kirishima patiently awaited the completion of the tea's steeping process. He hoped that the healing properties of the tea, combined with the warmth and tranquility of their surroundings, would provide a much-needed respite for your body and mind. In this moment of quiet reflection, he couldn't help but hope that this small act of kindness would bring some solace amidst the chaos that was now your new life in royal confines.

As the tantalizing fragrance of the healing tea filled the air, it didn't take long for you to emerge from the confines of the tent, eyes cautiously studying Kirishima's every move. Clad in the simple yet elegant dress he had provided you, features betraying a mix of cautious curiosity, before you fully exited the tent.

Scarlet eyes met yours as he poured the infused brew into the stained-glass teacup, the colors of the evening sun casting a mesmerizing glow through its amber and red hues. With a delicate touch, he extended the teacup towards you, his gentle gesture offering a sense of peace and comfort amongst the chaos.

Your gaze flickered between the beautiful teacup in Kirishima's hands and his eyes, wariness slowly giving way to a glimmer of trust. You lowered yourself onto the cushion placed by the fire, its warmth seeping through the fabric and into your tired body. Settling in, you positioned yourself to face the serene vista of the lake, where the calm waters mirrored the vibrant shades of the setting sun.

Kirishima, mindful of your nervous vigilance, kept his movements steady and reassuring. His hand extended further, confidently offering you the teacup of healing brew. The crimson colored light filtering through the stained glass seemed to dance and flicker as if carrying with it a promise of respite.

A soft smile tugged at Kirishima's lips as he spoke, his voice gentle yet filled with earnest sincerity. "Can we start over? I'm Captain Kirishima." In that simple statement, he hoped to convey that he was not just a guard but someone who, at their heart, genuinely cared. Someone who would listen and support you, should you choose to share your burdens.

He waited patiently, the teacup held delicately between the two of you, awaiting your response. In this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the lake and the tender offering of healing tea, he hoped that they could find a glimmer of solace and a fresh beginning.

IRL Safety Disclaimer: Never Pull A Partner Up By Their Hair Off of a Surface. You Will Injure Someone.

Taglist: @themythicaldisaster

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euorian-pdf · 3 months

Text

Pt. 2"눈을 보고 말할래요. "보고 싶었어요"

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆synopsis: you're living your best life, leaving everything behind in the past however a small 'family' gathering at Levi's home threatens to unfold everything.

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆contains: modern au! everyone, Levi's mom and uncle are alive in this au, mentions of swearing but not actual swearing, Carla is also alive, Eren's dad is absent, mentions of medication.

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆wc: 9.8K.

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆tw: swearing, mentions of pills, medication use and brief manipulation.

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ Here is 1 and 3

Life is going great.

You're done with finals, you're graduating in a few weeks, and you've prepared your graduation gown and a bucket list of all the places you'd like to visit during your friend group trip to the country you've always wanted to travel to.

You've made new friends, such good loving friends. You love them like a relative, like a long lost possession about to bid its goodbye once more. You cherish the time you spend with them and they've shown you that they feel the exact same way.

All of you get along so well, you find joy and solace in each other's company, and the laughter is actually genuine. It's a huge contrast to the previous chapter of your life, where toxicity and ugly attitudes were all you knew about friendships. Now, the warmth of genuine friendships surrounds you. And you couldn't be more grateful.

You've also fallen in love with composing songs and soundtracks, which was originally brought up by a friend of yours after they saw you playing around with a launchpad and they started grooving crazily to the beat you made up on the spot and other times you created melodies that made them cry.

So now, you part-time compose soundtracks for this new uprising director, Levi Ackerman. He's French-Japanese, very well-known in the film industry and you may or may not have the biggest crush on him. He's blunt, reserved, stoic, and loaded with creativity. Nowadays, you are working on his breakthrough project, his films create a canvas for your musical symphonies and all of this wouldn't have happened if your friends didn't lovingly force you to email him your samples.

Honestly, they are your biggest hype-mans, your number-one fans, and your admirers. They tell you that you're so talented that if you released some of your music, you'd be winning awards left to right. But you don't think they'll believe you if you tell them.

You have won awards, plenty of them, more than you can count however the problem is you've won them indirectly.

4 years have passed ever since you went no contact with your 'old friends' and in those 4 years while you were living your best life, working hard to get to where you are right now, they have become popular and not just '10K popular and one viral hit' popular, we're talking about '10 million albums sold, a world tour (and another one coming up), Billboard's most weeks on chart, surpassing world legends and 3 Grammys' popular. Connie on the other hand became a YouTuber and he's amassed a total of 13M subscribers and Historia started a fashion company on par with the leading designers of today.

Half of the songs on their albums that supposedly broke the charts were produced by none other than...you. Most of the ideas on Connie's YouTube channel were brainstormed by the both of you and you see familiar designs on the clothes that celebrities wear because it was you who created that blueprint.

The last two you can't take much credit for but for the songs? Your compositions, your melodies which you have poured all your soul into, have become the backdrop of their meteoric rise.

You don't know how to feel, everything seems so bittersweet.

On one hand, there's pride in your work being recognized on such a grand scale. On the other, there's the confusion and overall sense of unease that comes with the realization.

You had so many questions surrounding this topic such as, 'Why didn't they credit you' and 'Did they do it on purpose or was it accidental'

After all, no one knows where you are, you are left with no information, you cut off everyone and now that you think it through, realistically there was no way to credit you.

While curious about their whole uprise to fame, you remind yourself that although you do deserve the credit and the fame, it's not what you're looking for right now. You've got a different helmet on and if you have to regain contact with them to gain your rightfully so credit, they might as well keep it.

You are interrupted from your session of zoning out by a p!ng, an email pops up on your computer with the subject being Urgent and the sender being Levi Ackerman.

Urgent:

come over.

You've grown accustomed to his antics by now, as you have been working together for about 2 years now. If he says 'It's urgent' it's very likely that it's just 'I don't want to ask anyone else because it's embarrassing so I'll ask you'

So you reply back with a call, smiling to yourself as you decide to tease him a little. After the 5th ring, he picks up which is funny considering he's just staring at the phone ringing until he deems it's the right ring to answer to seem like he was busy.

"What?" He asks sighing as if he has better things to do with his time.

"Oh no, it's nothing. I'm just wondering when you'll switch to texting because I can't really keep up with fossils" you reply trying to get a rise out of him.

"The only thing fossil is your humour" He retorts unfazed as he sips on something in the background, obviously tea.

"Are you sure it's not your age, I'm pretty sure you were friends with Aurelius at one point"

"Cute, are you sure it's not your personality, I'm sure I've met thousands of people with the exact same everything as you."

"Ouch, I didn't deserve that" you reply, feigning hurt in your voice when you're actually just joking.

"So what do you need? What is so urgent" you ask, curious of what it is this time.

"Come over and you'll know" He responds curtly and before you can respond, he hangs up on you. You scoff, internally noting to give him an earful when you get to his place. You roll your eyes at his attitude, his characteristic not unfamiliar to you.

With a quick text to your roommate, you inform her about your plans for the night and that food is in the fridge. Anticipating her lack of response due to her own night out partying, you head out, leaving the message to be read by her whenever she can.

Levi's home is a 15-minute drive from your apartment, he lives in the middle of the very fashioned neighborhood. Despite being full of creativity and the creator of films that have everyone on the edge of their seat, the man can't design his house at all. He has the design of a monochromatic minimalist, with no sign of color anywhere, you can't stand it. Everything is grey there, you feel the color getting sucked out of you when you enter his house.

Finally, you arrive there quickly enough as the road to his neighborhood is quite deserted. You struggle to park the car in his driveway as it's very narrow but after a few minutes, you manage.

Guess rich people don't leave their houses, you think as you ring the doorbell to his house.

He opens the door and stands there with his nth cup of tea somewhat observing you before telling you 'You know the drill, I'll be in the office'.

Ah, the drill, how could you forget? You give him a sarcastic smile before watching him walk off and adhere to the so-called drill.

You have to take off your shoes, put them in a disinfectant bag, seal it up, and hang it on the shoe rack. As well as disinfecting your hands twice and hanging your coat and bag on a coat rack where you clean it both with some weird lint roller he has. You don't mind it really, it is his house after all.

After doing all that, you put on some guest slippers and head to his office. The house hasn't changed since your last visit, it's almost vibrating with greyness. You feel like smiling is forbidden, which may be, in the comfort of his home.

You turn a corner and see him sitting in his office chair playing back parts of his last movie and writing notes on how to improve. The mood would be better if the office had some sort of personality to it but no, this is an asylum.

"You know I recently came across a color palette, and it immediately reminded me of you, It was more on the brown side, with beautiful shades of wood, warm earth tones, and hints of amber." You share with Levi, attempting to bring a touch of color into the monochromatic conversation.

"There were even hints of grey" You add to gain his curiosity after he seems to have ignored you at the first attempt at making conversation.

Levi raises an eyebrow and stares at you through the rim of his glasses, clearly unimpressed by the mention of color invading his sanctuary of grayscale. "Why would a color palette remind you of me?" he questions, his tone conveying sarcasm and a hint of curiosity.

You chuckle, finding his reaction predictable. "Well, it had a certain rugged elegance like someone I know and also because I think it would suit you"

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, a faint trace of a sarcastic smirk playing on his lips. He gets up from his desk to head towards the office cabinet. "Flattery won't change my stance, I like how things are just fine. "

"I don't know what kind of colour trauma you've obtained during your centuries of living but to each their own, I guess" You joke smiling widely as he deadpans at your joke of his age before you change the subject and look upon where he's going. He has a teacup collection in his office cabinet, you think but shrug it off instantly as it kind of makes sense for the tea-addict man to have a teacup collection. The cabinet seems to be reserved for just tea, teacups, teabags, tea flavors, and even tea scents. Perhaps he was a teashop owner in another life.

He pours the pre-made fresh tea into one of the cups and places it before you, "So now that I'm here, what do you want?"

He puts his pen down and takes off his reading glasses, before interlocking his fingers and taking a more serious stance. You honestly think he's about to fire you but his glint seems a bit more personal.

"I need a plus one" he finally admits as if it was the hardest thing ever.

Your eyes widen in surprise at Levi's unexpected request for a plus one. Your lips barely touch the cup's rim and decide to taste it later for fear of choking on your tea. His usually stern demeanor seems to soften for a moment, revealing a side of him that isn't often on display.

"But for two events, one personal and the other official." He continues.

"Personal, as in you wanna ask me out?" you ask, totally confused because that makes no sense.

"Tsk, no you idiot, maybe let me finish next time" He interjected quickly hands discreetly covering his ears at the tiniest blush that formed at the tip of them.

You become flustered at the abrupt response, slightly embarrassed by your assumption. "Maybe don't take prehistoric pauses between sentences. What's the personal event?"

He takes a moment to regain his composure, the brief flicker of a curious glint in his eyes indicating that he might be enjoying the misunderstanding on your end. "The personal one is a family gathering, My mother wants me to be the host of the family gathering this month."

"And I come in where?"

"I usually stay isolated in my room because I can't stand the whole mood of the place, it's too chatty and noisy but now I have to host." He tsks shaking his head at the memory of the last family gathering.

"And you don't know how to, so you want my help?"

Levi nods, his expression serious. "In short, yes."

"Right, yeah so I still don't understand. Why don't you pick someone else, someone who you're already comfortable with" You ask, not knowing why he's asking you when he has a few friends of his own.

"Who says I'm not comfortable with you?" Levi gives you an incredulous look as if your question is absurd and the answer is obvious.

You can't help but raise an eyebrow at Levi's unexpected response. "Comfortable with me? You've been scowling at me since we met."

Levi offers a nonchalant shrug. "It's my default expression. I'm not a people person. You're the least annoying person I've met so far."

"um, thanks, I guess?"

Levi nods, his acknowledgment devoid of any neutrality. "Don't read too much into it."

You can't tell if he's being sarcastic or genuinely expressing a form of acceptance. Either way, you decide not to dwell on it too much. Levi is known for his stoic demeanor, and deciphering his feelings is like trying to read ancient hieroglyphs, so it's best not to read too much into it.

"Okay, and for the official one?"

"The official one," Levi starts, "is an award ceremony. One of my films is nominated for a few categories, and my presence is required as a formality."

"Congratulations? But then again you're not fond of award ceremonies, are you?" You nearly get up from your seat to give him a hug but refrain from doing so not wanting to cross any boundaries.

"Yeah, I couldn't care less, stupid pricks think they have the authority to judge whose art is superior. It's fucking bullshit" Levi's expression turns sour as he expresses his disdain for the award ceremony.

You sense the bitterness in his words while taking a sip of your tea and savoring the taste with a pleased hum, you realize that the world of awards and recognition might not be as glamorous and fulfilling as it seems. "I get it, awards don't define the value of your work. It's about the impact you make and the stories you tell, but you have to attend so that you gain the recognition you need and deserve, makes sense."

Levi nods in agreement, feeling warmth seeping through him as you are fond of the tea he brewed. "Exactly. Anyway, they're announcing the nominations for soundtracks too so keep an eye out for that."

"Yeah okay, that's cool, but also nerve-wracking" you admit already feeling the anxiety seeping in at the thought of the ceremony.

"Why? Because there are major actors?"

"No, the cameras, the judgments, the expectations, it all feels overwhelming," you reply, a hint of nervousness in your voice.

Levi gives you a side glance sipping on his tea and finishing what's left, his usual stern expression softening just a tad. "If you believe in your work, that's all that matters. They can go to hell with all their opinions."

You smile and nod, his words making sense as you push away any thoughts of negativity that may increase your anxiety. You think of thoughts to push back the unwanted ones and Levi seems to be the perfect solution. You can't help but stare at Levi, busy again with noting stuff down, his handwriting a mix of scribbles and cursives. How his fingers tend to be very pale and dainty, a taint of red on his knuckles from cracking them too much. How his hair falls on his face makes you want to part them away and tuck the strands behind his ears.

He looks up at you, sharp grey eyes boring into yours, eyebrows raised as a defense mechanism against the gaze you've been holding. You quickly avert your eyes and change your gaze, not wanting him to catch on.

"So which one is first and when is it?" you begin, trying to shift the focus back to the matter at hand.

"Family gathering, tomorrow at 7 pm" He answers.

"Tomorrow? You didn't think to give me a week's notice?"

Levi looks at you with a questioning gaze at your mildly surprised tone. "You and a week's notice is the same as a bouncing ball in a minefield, you'd eventually worry yourself to death with your overthinking tendencies."

"Overthinking is true but the meals need more time. so anything I need to know about the gathering, will I be the only non-family there?" you inquired, curious to know how awkward it will be.

"One, the meals are already prepared by a chef I hired. and two, no, one of my cousins, the brat, brings over all of her friends and it becomes a whole noise-fest, so you wouldn't be the only non-family," he explained, annoyance forming on his face as he recalled the headaches he's endured over the years.

You nod, mentally noting the details. "Got it. And the award ceremony?"

Levi glances at his calendar. "That's in two weeks. You'll need to clear your schedule for the whole day because it's far, the event starts in the evening."

"Alright, I'll make sure I'm available, Anything else I should be prepared for?", you reply, thinking about the preparations you'll need to make for both occasions.

Levi shrugs, "Just the usual chitter-chatter film industry shit. Red carpet, photographers, people pretending to be interested in conversations they're having when really they're full of shit."

You nod, "Got it, it's all just a show."

Levi nods as his facial features lightly soften. "More or less, It's all about appearances, which is why I rarely attend these things willingly."

"Okay, so tomorrow at 7 pm but I should come earlier, right? here at your place, no overthinking and I'm guessing the attire is casual?" You ask listing all the things you're required of.

Levi nods, "Casual is fine. Nothing too fancy and nothing too casual Just don't show up in pajamas, and we should be good."

You smirk teasing him a little, "Okay, I'll save the pajamas for the award ceremony then."

"But wait a minute, what's in this for me?" You ask slyly poking at him to see what he might offer you. You need everything he can offer to give you at this point.

Levi relaxes into his chair and crosses his arms, seemingly intrigued by your banter. "What do you mean, what's in it for you?"

You chuckle, enjoying the banter between you two. "Well, I'm doing you a favor by being your plus one. I think I deserve something in return."

Levi gives you a blank stare, the corners of his lips curling slightly. "And what would that something be?"

You pause for dramatic effect and also because you didn't think he'd play along before responding with a sly grin, "Two things, one, you'll call me by my first name, and two, you owe me dinner"

Levi deadpans at your demands, seemingly unamused. "Call you by your first name? That's negotiable. But dinner, you're practically dreaming."

"That's totally fine you can just forever be in debt."

Levi raises an eyebrow at your response, contemplating your proposal. There's a brief moment of silence, and you can almost sense the gears turning in his stoic demeanor. Finally, he lets out a 'tsk fine', a subtle way of saying 'I can't say no to you so do whatever you want'. You are too oblivious to see the stark contrast in Levi's behavior with you and with others, it's basically night and day. He treats you very differently, and though his stoicism remains, there's a peculiar comfort in the way he interacts with you. It's as if your presence manages to crack the surface of his usual 'idgaf' and 'the world bores me' attitude.

So, you like where you are right now, you like how things are going and you never want this chapter in your life to change. You've found a sense of fulfillment in your work, genuine friendships, and an interesting dynamic with Levi.

You're content.

Meanwhile on the other hand...

Eren wakes up disheveled, his hair now shorter and his moustache is long gone, shaved out of existence. He stands in the bathroom, already finished brushing his teeth and water droplets falling down his face, a product of washing his face. He looks at the mirror cabinet, deciding whether or not to take his pills. He decides not to, not being bothered to as he feels there's no point to it.

He doesn't want the stability of his moods or the functionality of his routine to actually work. It doesn't mean anything, at least not anymore.

He has two calendars, one plain white that is normal, he uses it to remember certain dates and important interviews that shape his career. The other calendar is reserved for you, your absence to be exact, he crosses out each day that passes without your captivating presence. Today it’s 4 years, 3 months, and 6 days. Every day at 7, he sits down by his desk, grabs both your calendar and his journal, and just writes how much he regrets what he did that day. He's gone through 7 journals so far and he writes for you, to you, and because of you.

He writes about how much he misses the music that used to fill his house when days were hard and he thought he couldn't get through them. How you were so patient and loving and that you didn't deserve anything that he put you through. He writes what reminds him of you, the tulips that bloom in the spring near his mom's house, the cherry blossoms he came across during his tour to Japan, or the jasmines he was gifted by an Indian fan during his trip there.

Everything comes back to you.

He feels so pathetic, so darn twisted to have said all those things to you, to have pushed you away and the worst part is, he doesn't even know why. He doesn't know whether or not to embrace the memories of your smiles, laughter, and the warmth of your presence or let it haunt him. Eren regrets the days when he let his issues take control and drive you far away from him, the days when he couldn't appreciate the simple joy of your company.

He would give everything to get you back again, but that's selfish of him, he thinks. He wants you to be happy, to live life, and never look back for him. He's torn between wanting you back in his life and acknowledging that it might be better for you to move on. The weight of his actions, the hurt he caused, and the bridge of friendship he destroyed between you and the rest of your friends are heavy burdens he carries.

Connie hates him to this day and rightfully so. So does Jean.

Eren used a recording of Connie that was taken out of context. The day of that recording was on your birthday and Connie was tired of the plain ol' happy birthday surprise because it wasn't surprising anyone. So he took it upon himself to spice things up. He decided that he'd have a fight with you the day before and the day after that he'd make a fake recording of him saying horrible things and once you got upset, he'd apologize and surprise you with your favorite flavored cake. He knew he'd get a few head smacks from you for even thinking about calling you a 'bitch' but all he really wanted was to hand-make the cake with the rest of your friend group and see you eat it half teary-eyed and laughing. But he decided against it after recording the audio, paranoid that it might actually drive you away so he resorted to just the plain non-surprising birthday party.

But no, Eren saved that recording even when Connie had deleted it from his phone. Eren drove you against everyone for mainly one reason, or rather two. Jealousy and insecurity.

Eren hated, he loathed, how you spend time with Jean, he despised how you looked at him with those beautiful eyes of yours, all doe-y and filled with admiration and love. You shouldn't be looking at horse-face like that, it should be him.

Eren believed he deserved your undivided attention, and the idea of you sharing those moments with Jean fuelled his jealousy. The insecurities within him festered, making him resentful of anyone who seemed to be close to you.

In an attempt to have you closer to him, Eren manipulated the situation, using Connie as a pawn in his scheme. The recording, taken out of context, became a weapon that not only hurt you but also fractured their own friendship. Connie, who was genuinely trying to create a memorable surprise, became an unknowing victim of Eren's envious tactics. This showed just how far Eren was willing to go to have you all to himself. He also had another recording of Jean also taken out of context but since he threatened Jean that he'd tell you everything, Jean thought it would be better to come out on his own terms.

But it all backfired. The fallout from his actions left a trail of broken friendships and severed ties. The fallout was severe. Connie was hurt and betrayed, harbored deep resentment towards Eren, rarely ever talking to him unless it was urgent. Connie's initial reaction was worse, first, he took it as a joke and brushed Jean off when he told him everything, and then when he entered your room to look for you, everything was wiped, your closets were empty, your gaming setup that was right next to his was completely clean, only the table remained and all Connie could see was red causing a huge fight between him and Eren.

Jean, too, felt the sting of betrayal as Eren's actions caused you to forever leave and leave them swimming in regret not only driving a wedge between friends but also leaving a lasting scar on the trust and happiness that existed between the entire friend group.

To say that they all miss you would be a heavy understatement. It's like you took away the sunshine and left them in a never-ending gloomy day. It's not the same without your crazy laughter and the way you made even the boring stuff fun. Everything's just kind of off now, and they can't shake the feeling that things got messed up for no good reason.

In the dead of night, when everything's quiet, each of them thinks about the good times and how quickly things went south. There's this heavy feeling of 'what if' hanging in the air, 'What if I never created that recording' 'What if I never told her how I truly felt about her in the past, would that have changed her decision' 'what if i didn't exist'. Eren especially can't get over the fact that he let someone as wonderful as you slip away for his own self-centered and insecure reasons.

Life moves on, yes, but it doesn't seem so in this context. Everything feels so dull, they don't have fun anymore, no one laughs genuinely, it's very awkward. Everyone wonders where you went, where you've been, how you are, if you're happy at least, and that if you are then they're happy too but they're still figuring out how to fix the mess. Your absence is this big, annoying elephant in the room. If your absence has taught them something it's that they should try to appreciate the people around them. Your absence is like a neon sign saying, "Don't fuck up."

Back to the present day time, Eren gets a text from Mikasa and he doesn't want to open it but does so that he doesn't get manhandled and thrown across the backyard.

Mikasa: get ready and be there me and auntie are already in the car driving

Mikasa: the address for the gathering is [Street Address/PO BOX], dress well pls

He groans into his pillow. Another stupid gathering, he thought he could get away from this year's gathering by traveling to America, a country where Mikasa's relatives aren't scattered around but no, the host of this year's gathering is Levi and he lives in America and specifically in the same state he traveled to. Eren can't even begin to express his annoyance. It's almost like the entire universe is against him not attending and he's not even related to anyone there. Why does he have to go, he thinks? Social events are the bane of his existence, ironic considering his whole career relies on interacting with people (fans).

Eren contemplates ignoring the text and pretending he never saw it. Maybe he can come up with a convincing excuse, like a sudden illness or something lame like 'I accidentally leaked the address, fans everywhere'. But he knows Mikasa too well – her persistence is unmatched. Ignoring her texts would only escalate the situation and so he responds with a 'fine, got it'.

He tosses his phone aside and stares at the ceiling. The prospect of facing another family gathering fills him with dread. It's not the family part that bothers him; it's the forced interactions, the fake smiles, and the constant questioning about his personal life. Resigned, he starts thinking about what to wear, already dreading the inevitable awkwardness that awaits him.

Eren makes sure to dress casually, opting for a comfortable yet presentable look. He styles his hair with a bit more care than usual, not wanting to appear too disheveled. As a final touch, he puts on his best cologne, he doesn't know why, but he feels compelled to dress properly, look proper, and act proper.

Almost as if there's something, or rather someone that's going to present tonight, that's worth impressing...

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You woke up at 10 am and left for Levi's house at 1 pm, giving yourself a few good 6 hours to prepare everything. Levi insisted that you didn't need to come so early and that he's already setting up everything but you like these kinds of things so you tell him it's fine. He tells you to utilize the catering staff he hired and leave their job to them but you refuse. It's a 'family' gathering, it should have bits and pieces of his personality embedded into his effort as well.

You couldn't find some grey cutlery so you bought what you could find which happened to be some colorful plates to Levi's dismay but you promised him that you'd keep them and it wouldn't stay in his house for more than a few days. He sighs a 'tch' at you that you don't think much of. You waste no time and get to work immediately, unpacking the bags and organizing the items you bought. The colorful plates you've chosen might not match Levi's monochromatic taste, but you believe they add a lively touch to the gathering.

You proceed with setting up the dining area and arranging the colorful plates alongside the other tableware. The clash of colors against the neutral backdrop creates a unique aesthetic, one that you find oddly satisfying. Levi also starts his part in cleaning, which doesn't take long as he cleans his house on a regular basis.

The catering staff, initially unsure about your decisions, follows your lead. As you continue to work, Levi observes silently, occasionally offering input or preferences. Despite the clash of styles, a subtle understanding begins to fold and everyone likes the outcome of the collaboration between the expertise of the staff and your knowledge of Levi's tastes.

After a few good hours, everything is set and you go change from your 'helping out' clothes to your casual clothes for the event. The catering staff bid their goodbye and Levi takes a seat in the living room.

It is now 6:00 and Levi's mom and uncle arrive, you can hear their chatter from upstairs, a booming laugh can be heard and you assume it's his uncle. You've never been more nervous in your life. 'How should you greet them?' 'What if you look too casual' 'What if you say something wrong' are all the negative thoughts flowing through your mind right now. You take a deep breath, brush them aside, and head downstairs and you immediately happen to lock eyes with his mom, she sits on the couch with an amazing posture while Levi and his uncle bicker at the door. You wonder how Levi greeted his mom, too bad you missed it.

She looks so ethereal, with long healthy black hair flowing nicely with the white dress she's wearing, and her facial features are soft and delicate, she looks like the kindest person ever, she radiates this sort of 'welcome' feeling. As if she'll accept you in your arms, sinner or priest.

You snap out of it, stopping the gawking, and continue to walk up to her. She instantly smiles and gets up from the couch.

"Who is this young pretty lady?" Levi's mom exclaims with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity. You feel a mix of relief and nervousness as you extend a hand towards her.

"Hello Ma'am, I'm [Name]," you say, trying to match her warmth. "I'm a friend and co-worker of Levi's. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Ma'am?" She laughs a hearty laugh and pats you gently on the shoulders "Sweetie, there's no need to be so formal, You can just call me Kuchel"

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Kuchel" you reply, not bringing yourself to call someone much older than you by just their first name.

"You're a cheeky lady, aren't you?" Kuchel jokes with you, giving you an affectionate smile and you finally understand what the term 'girl crush' means because you've never been so positively intimidated by someone's elegance and stance. She urges you to sit down when in reality you should be the one urging her to sit down and making her feel comfortable.

Levi and his uncle also come by to sit down before he introduces himself to you.

"How's it going, little lady? I'm Kenny. I'm this kid's uncle, regrettably" he says with a smirk, causing Levi to roll his eyes and Kuchel to slap his arm playfully.

"Hello, I'm [Name], I work alongside Levi and we're also friends." Levi glances at you to see if you're uncomfortable in any way, he's good at reading people and you seem, relaxed and not tense as he predicted you'd be. He mentally nods at that and reminds himself to glance at you every now and then.

Kuchel smiles warmly at you. "It's wonderful to have you here, [Name]. I'm glad he's becoming friends with coworkers, he usually never does that"

"Mom, I'm 28, stop talking about me like I'm 15" Levi groans at the embarrassment, hands digging into his face.

"You're still my baby boy, no matter how old you get." She retorts, moving closer to him to pinch his cheeks and coddle him.

You coo at the rare sight, of Levi crossing his arms while his mother hugs him and strokes his hair, it's obvious Levi loves the affection his mother gives him, his fond smile gives it away no matter how grey his eyes look.

His uncle also seems to enjoy the sight, smiling a faint one as he catches you observing him. He flashes you a wink before looking back at the scene. You feel less tense now, feeling more welcome with the whole atmosphere.

It's now 7:15 and the first batch of relatives come out of a minivan, you smile and they somehow hug you as if you're a part of the family, one elderly woman asks if you're Levi's other half and you can't help but stutter on your words as you form incoherent sentences you later resort to shaking your head as a form of no.

It's now 8:15, an hour has passed and everyone is eating their starters, you look at the lively atmosphere and you feel so warm inside, everyone knows one another and everyone treats you like a relative, you feel like you belong before the doorbell rings again and you tell them that you'll go get it.

Nothing could've prepared you for who was behind that door.

You quickly open the door and get your clothing stuck on the handle of the door by opening it too quickly. You manage to say your hellos but your focus is on the door, trying to get out of this embarrassing situation.

"[Name], What’re you doing here?" a voice asks and you think it's Kuchel but once you finally get your clothing unstuck from the door and look up at the new batch of guests, you're astronomically wrong.

It's Carla, It's Carla Jaeger.

You've never thought you'd see Carla of all people here, you think you're hallucinating and that the presence of Kuchel may have triggered your longing for the mother figure who treated you like you were her daughter.

But no, it's actually Carla. How could this be and why? She's standing in front of the door with a fluffy scarf and a huge coat that hides her actual outfit. She stares at you with sadness in her eyes, but then Kuchel shouts 'Carla come in' which makes you snap out of it and open the door so that she may enter. She does so and as you try to close the door she tells you that..

"There's one more person"

And cue the anxiety, panic, and dread. You look at her, confused and worried. Carla immediately embraces you with a tight hug, as if seeking comfort or offering it, you're not sure. She cups your face gently, looking into your eyes with a mixture of affection and sorrow.

"[Name], You've grown up."

Carla whispers, her voice a mixture of sorrow and longing. The memories flood back – the warmth of her hugs, the wisdom in her advice, and the unconditional love she showered upon you. The times she'd teach you how to bake and you'd end up messing the whole thing up and she'd laugh at you while teasing.

"You look more refined" she continues, her gaze filled with a motherly pride. Carla steps back, holding your shoulders as she examines you. "But the same twinkle in your eyes remains."

"Thank you, Auntie" you reply not knowing what else, a pang of guilt heaving in your heart as you mentally embrace yourself for the person who accompanied her as the doorbell rings again.

please don't be eren, please don't be eren, please don't be eren

This is what you keep chanting in your mind as Carla gestures towards the door, indicating that you should answer it. As you open the door, you're met with the face of the person who accompanied her.

It's not Eren. Thank God

It's Mikasa.

You mentally smack yourself on the head, how could you have not known? Mikasa Ackerman, Levi Ackerman. What more clues did you need? A big red billboard?

Mikasa carries two baskets of what seems to be treats for everyone at the family gathering. She doesn’t seem to notice you since you're practically hiding behind the door as she goes forward to set the gifts down at the kitchen island and give greetings to her relatives.

Taking your invisibility to her as an advantage, you close the door not wanting the cold to get into the warmed house, and wonder where you should go and you decide you’ll go upstairs to get some fresh air, calm your nerves, and focus on the priority here.

You run up the stairs and go to the nearest bathroom, you’re pacing around not knowing what to do. You think let’s rewind a bit.

Now we know that Mikasa is related to Levi, check. Does that guarantee that anyone else who you’ve left behind could also be here, no. But why is Carla here then?

And that’s where you’re stumped. You have no clue. And you don’t want this to ruin your image with the people you just met, for you to just run off out of nowhere because someone you know is in the same room as you. You’re not like this, this is the anxiety talking. So what know them? Say your hellos and look the other way, it’s very simple.

You slap your face gently as if to beat the words into your face, that’s until you hear a booming noise from downstairs, it sounds like someone is cheering. Anyways, you think, let’s get back to this gathering. Whoever comes, came and whoever is not present well then that’s a win for us.

And with that you head downstairs, slowly observing the table where everyone is seated at, Levi with his armed crosses, Kuchel with her hand on his head, Kenny bored out of his mind and Carla exchanging smiles with Kuchel. The other relatives seem to chatter among themselves.

You quickly head down the stairs and grab a plate to get yourself some food. Carla comes along behind you, she follows what you do, also grabbing a plate and putting food on her plate.

“So how has life been treating you, [Name]?”

She asks, genuine curiosity flowing through her voice, you look at her and put your plate down to show some respect and talk to her.

“It’s going great, I’m graduating in a few weeks.” You reply, observing her features, she hasn’t changed a bit, she looks just as comforting as before. She smiles at that and pats your back.

“I’m proud of you sweetie. You deserve everything good in this life and the next”

You smile and hug her abruptly, the connection you had with Carla was unmatched, nothing could top that and you just feel so guilty for not telling her anything beforehand.

“Listen, [Name], As a mother, I need to apologize.” You look at her confused and she continues with heavy words. “I never got the chance to apologize to you for Eren’s behavior that day, if I double-checked whether or not he took his medication, perhaps this wouldn’t have become the outcome.”

“Auntie, this is in no way your fault. This was my decision, I’d like to think that either way, I would’ve left. It’s just the terms I left on could’ve been improved, but that’s also my fault. I just combined everyone in the same category as Eren and left without further notice. That’s a fault on my part.”

"Nonsense, none of this could ever be your fault." She smiles and pats your cheek,“The ever so kind [Name], you have a heart pure as the driven snow.”

You appreciate her words but can't shake the feeling that you could have handled things differently. All the guilt and regret start pouring in, you've left so many people under the assumption that they hated you, Carla was one of them, you thought that if her son despised you enough to hurt you, then what would be stopping her?

Carla seems to sense your troubled self so she takes it upon herself to make the mood more friendly and less soggy with regret. She's seen how regretful both you and Eren look and it's so dreadful as his mother and as someone who cares about you. She tries to lighten his mood up, take him to places where serotonin may be boosted, and engage with him in activities that liven things up, but to no avail. Eren was stuck in a trance of regret.

Carla wishes she could ask you to at least talk with Eren or sort things out with him. Her motherly side worried about the wellbeing of her son but she can't bring herself to do so, it's too much on you and selfish of her.

"My kitchen is in good shape, I know for a fact that it has missed your mishaps," Carla says with a playful glint in her eyes, attempting to bring a smile to your face.

"Mishaps? More like nuclear testings" you respond with a chuckle, appreciating Carla's effort to lighten the mood. Her warm demeanor and easygoing nature make you feel more at ease, at least for the moment.

Kuchel calls Carla over once more, she has a glass of red wine and she seems like she has lots of things to catch up with her. Carla gives you a nod before heading over to her and taking her plate of food on the way.

You take a moment to collect yourself, glancing around the room. Levi is engaged in a conversation with his uncle Kenny and Mikasa is on her phone. You take this as an opportunity to clean the dishes, left by the guests as they head to the living room to watch a sitcom together.

It's now 8:50. it's almost two hours past the intended time, you can let out a deep sigh of relief. No one else is coming and everyone here is sleeping here for the night. Washing the dishes calms your nerves and you feel more relaxed, you hope that Mikasa stays on her phone and does not notice you. That'd be great, but the chances of someone not noticing another in a 'family gathering' are very low. She'll probably notice one way or another.

You finish the dishes, dry your hands, and allow the families to enjoy their own company. You, however, make your way to the small seating area, opposite to the door. You grab a book from the shelf and start reading, taking your mind off all this.

In the process, 20 minutes have passed and it's now 9:30, you giggle at the book, you never knew Levi was into comedy like this, half the books on the shelf are comedy and satire books. You put a hand over your mouth to conceal your chuckles as you continue reading. The sound of laughter and conversations from the living room serves as a comforting backdrop. Despite the initial nervousness, being immersed in Levi's world, even if just through his book collection, brings a sense of belonging.

Until the doorbell rings once more.

You're on the other side of the room so it'll take a bit longer for you to open it but as soon as you get up, Mikasa is running to the door to open it. Why would she be running when she was on her phone the entire time? You're just standing there a bit confused at who it is and why 2 hours after the initial time.

Mikasa opens the door and the room suddenly turns into an incoherent noise factory. You can't see who it is because they immediately hug Mikasa but you'd recognize that grey hair anywhere.

It's Connie and behind him are Jean, Sasha, Historia, Ymir, and Reiner.

Mikasa steps back, breaking the hug, and the noise reaches a peak as everyone starts talking at once. Connie, always the ball of energy, is the first to greet everyone, Levi leaves him hanging on his fist bump and he doesn't mind as he goes on to greet everybody else.

You don't dare move from your spot continuing reading your book hoping to stay unnoticed in your little corner of the room. As everyone continues their greetings and catching up, you bury yourself in the book, pretending to be engrossed in the words on the pages. You hear Historia apologizing for being late as the roads were blocked due to snow.

The minutes pass, and you start to believe that your plan to remain inconspicuous is working. That is until you hear a familiar voice entering the room, and a chill runs down your spine. The voice is unmistakable, and dread creeps in as you hope it's just a figment of your imagination.

Eren stands there awkwardly, pathetically fidgeting with his hands as he mumbles 'Sorry I'm late'. Kuchel hugs him and playfully pinches his cheeks and he shyly averts his gaze down. You take this as a small chance to observe him from the peek of your book.

He grew a bit taller, his hair was styled to a fashionable degree, and his face was glowing although his eyes seemed dark from his eyebags as if he hadn't been getting much sleep. His azure eyes aren't as dull as you last saw them, they're still a bit dull but the color stands out more. He looks disconnected from the rest of his friends and Mikasa pulls his arm to bring him closer.

You should've picked a more discreet place but then again why should you be hiding, it's just a coincidence that all of you happen to be reunited here. However you don't want any drama, you contemplate leaving through the back door and telling Levi something urgent came up but you don't want to let him down and there's no point in doing so if you so claim to have forgotten about them, meeting them, saying hello and disappearing again shouldn't be so hard. Maybe, just maybe, you can enjoy the evening without the complication of facing them. The minutes tick by, and your hope grows. Perhaps, for once, fate is on your side.

It's as if everything is happening in slow motion, the laughter of Carla and Kuchel, Connie play fighting with Levi's uncle and Historia chatting to the elderly family members. You glance once more from between the book and you see that their attention is elsewhere. You get a text from your roommate who happens to tell you that all the roads are blocked due to a snowstorm in the area and wondering if you're safe.

you: yes i'm fine, are you at home?

claudia: yeah, it seems like you have to stay where you are until the snow dies down, don't try to go anywhere, kay?

You seem worried a bit, wondering if your friends are also at home and not outside, you check the news and it calmly urges anyone and everyone who is outside to get inside and people who are inside to stay inside.

you: damn, it looks bad out there, how's everyone, are they all inside?? i can't get through to them.

claudia: [one attachment], we're fine, see u at home tmrw. stay safe!!

You open the attachment to see all of your friends huddling in the room, windows closed and all in oodies giving the camera a big thumbs up and smiling.

You smile at that, responding with an 'okay' and sighing a deep breath as all of your friends are safe. You're convinced the universe is against you, making you trapped in a house with people you want to run away from. You can't stand the anxiety that comes with it, you put the book down and hear the distant chatters of Levi's family members telling each other about the news as they put on the news channel.

You need a drink, you think to yourself. You quietly slip away from your corner, avoiding making any noise as you make your way to the kitchen. The distant chatter and laughter follow you, but you try to drown it out. You open the fridge, and fortunately, there's an array of beverages. You grab a bottle of water, thinking that's probably a safer choice but then you put it back as wine seems like a better option in this situation.

While you're being indecisive, it seems that someone else has entered the kitchen, they have their back to you, and you see the mini man bun and immediately know it's Eren. He hasn't noticed you yet, he thinks you're just a random family member also in the kitchen, choosing some snacks, but he has trouble finding the cork opener for the wine bottle he's about to open. He can't go back and ask Levi in front of everyone because he knows his mom. will scold him for trying to drink. So he resorts to asking a stranger, you, instead to save him that trouble.

"um, excuse me?" He starts looking at your back as you attempt to leave the kitchen stealthily, sneaking quietly past the cabinets and stuffing your face in one of them. You freeze at the sound of Eren's voice. The last thing you wanted was to become involved in his search for a corkscrew. In an attempt to avoid the impending interaction, you continue pretending to browse the snacks.

"Excuse me," he repeats, a touch of frustration in his voice.

You debate whether to respond or slip away unnoticed. The room suddenly feels smaller, you feel claustrophobic and you wish you had chosen a different place to hide from the social storm. I mean, why would you go to the kitchen when they just arrived on an empty stomach?

Eren decides to approach you, still unaware of your identity, he lightly taps you on your shoulder. "Do you know where the corkscrew is?" he asks, coming up beside you and you swear this feels like a scene straight out of a Kdrama, one of those awkward side-character interactions that you'd rather avoid. Panic sets in, and you need to think and act quickly. Holding your breath, you contemplate the best course of action.

Escape seems like a tempting option. You scold yourself for feeling afraid and decide that avoiding unnecessary drama is your priority. Without turning around to face him, you respond vaguely, slightly changing your voice.

"I think I saw it near the sink," gesturing vaguely in that direction.

You sigh a loud deep breath as he heads in that direction but immediately suck it back in. As you are walking backward, you bump into someone, you pray it's someone you don't know but by reflex, you turn around to see who you bumped into and come face to face with a groaning Connie. He has his hand on his arm after he hits it on the corner of the wall and looks up at you only to have the annoyance etched on his face disappear within a millisecond.

He stands there speechless, unable to say your name, unable to even understand the whole situation, is it real? or did he play fight with Kenny a bit too hard? He can't do anything but stand there. He takes you in, every part of you and it finally hits him like a wave of strong tides. He missed you so badly, all this time, he never truly understood how much your absence affected him. The sight of you, the sound of your voice as you mutter a small 'oh', the simple act of bumping into you – it's a flood of emotions he tried to suppress.

"Hello and sorry."

Is all you say, in a monotone voice, a stark contrast to the emotional whirlwind that's taking place within you. You grab a packet of chips and purposefully move away, creating a physical distance between the two of you. You move behind him because behind you is Eren opening a bottle of wine and glancing at the whole accident, still oblivious.

Connie scoffs at your attitude, he's immediately snapped out of his trance and feels the need to confront you. You haven't even bothered to hear his side of the story, or given him a chance to explain and it's so fucking annoying.

"Sorry for bumping into me or sorry for going no contact for like half a decade, hm?" he questions, his tone carrying a mix of sarcasm and genuine hurt. The confrontation hangs in the air, and you can feel the weight of his unspoken emotions.

You want to retort back but you know that this will just lead to confrontation on a wide scale and you don't want to ruin Levi's hard work. So you ignore him and go back to sitting down on your small chair in the corner and Connie can't believe you're actually acting like this. He watches you leave to sit down on a small chair and he's so pissed. He glances at Eren who seems to be in his own world, scrolling on his phone and drinking his wine and suddenly Connie feels like starting a fight because Eren's nonchalant attitude irks him. But he refrains, he has something else to do, something better. Connie takes the opportunity to shift the attention to the living room. He interrupts Sasha's karaoke performance in front of the TV, grabbing the microphone with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Guys, I know someone with a much better voice in this house, so who wants to listen to some real music?" He declares and Sasha pouts but lets go of the microphone. This causes Jean to tell him to stop being so rowdy and sit down. He shakes his head telling them 'You guys don't want to miss out, I promise' and they seem a bit curious at his offer, wanting to know who it is.

You think he's already gone, ignoring you as well since he never liked you in your memory so you take a breath of fresh air and continue reading while glancing at Eren who drinks the wine slowly while scrolling on his phone, replying to texts from his manager asking him on his opinion of certain costumes. He looks dreadful you almost pity him.

"It's [Name]" Connie announces, and there's a mix of surprise and curiosity that spreads among the family members. One, because half of them didn't know you could sing and the other half is reactions from Carla who knows where this is going and connected the dots, and Jean and the rest because they had no idea that you're here, so they scoff at him and tell him to stop playing.

"Come see for yourself, then" He taunts and now everyone is really confused.

Eren hears your name being said and his head immediately perks up from his distracted state. He sets down the wine glass, his eyes narrowing as he searches the room for confirmation. He goes to the living room to see a glimpse of your face but you're not there. He then proceeds to return back to his spot disappointed but stops in his tracks as he sees you, sitting down on a small chair right behind the table he was drinking wine at. He's not like Connie, he stares at you with guilt in his eyes, you know you can't hide behind your book for so long so you set it down and look at him with an annoyed gaze as Connie and the others also turn around the corner of the kitchen, surprised to see you there.

Eren feels.. weird, he feels so pathetic, he feels like he’s gonna cry any minute now, going to full-on sob in front of everyone. Your annoyed gaze tells him everything he needs to know, he wants to fall on his knees and grovel, wants to tell you he'd do everything and anything to make it up to you, he places a hand on his mouth, almost to stop himself from revealing the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill out.

Everyone else seems to look at you with the same gaze, regret, confusion, guilt, surprise. Connie, crosses his arms, half pissed at you for what happened but also happy now that he knows you've been okay, Eren looks troubled like he doesn't know where to start, Mikasa has this face on that you can't read, Historia is in a state of surprise, Jean doesn't believe his eyes and Sasha and Ymir are so confused.

You don't know how to feel, you hate how everyone just put you on the spot, how you are indirectly ruining Levi's first time hosting this gathering, but most of all, you hate how much their presence affects you.

You don't do much but look outside at the snowstorm, and then tension grows higher and tighter with each second, you hate how they look at you like you are some animal in an enclosure, like a performer and people are patiently waiting for your next trick, it feels too awkward and makes it hard to breathe, you can't help but wonder if somehow standing in the snowstorm seems like a better option than standing in the storm brewing inside this house.

notes: first things first, thank you all for reading the part 1, I really appreciate it and to those who interacted, hope that nothing inconveniences you ever again in your life!! emphasis on ever. so here's to part two, crazy how it's 9K because I remember my milestone being 5K so how I got here is honestly mindblowing. I'm glad you liked my plot, I thought it might've been weirdly put but it seems not. so I hope you enjoy this one as well and let me know if you also want a part 3, I kind of left it on a cliffhanger...

divider credit: @hitobaby

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