' Until we meet again, Y/N. '
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Having spent your life as a florist, violence and war had never introduced itself to you. That is, until you met them.
You came as a distraction, and you liked it that way. Single nights spent in simplicity a...
content warning: this chapter contains graphic depictions of sexual interactions (18+)
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You didn't know exactly where you were headed, and perhaps it wasn't the smartest decision to avoid asking, yet the feeling of their chest pressed against your back is enough to keep your lips pursed in a tight line.
You had never rode on horseback, and for your first time being alongside Commander Hange, it didn't aid the nerves arising in you. Though they try their best to allow you your personal space, a saddle of a horse only gifts so much.
Your hands grip onto the lip on the front of the saddle, holding tightly and watching the color of your knuckles lighten at the pressure. Your eyes traveling before you to view their hands holding the lead on either side of your body. From time to time, you can feel their chin bump against the top of your head.
The moment you reach your destination, the nerves you feel become insurmountable compared to that of the nerves of being so close to the Commander.
Trost headquarters had always been a background scene in your life. Growing up in the district, you had only gone up to the gate a few times as a child. Now you enter the gates, watching the soldiers manning them bow in respect to the Commander, your eyes focused on the grand door opening at your arrival.
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"Please, make yourself comfortable."
But your feet stay glued to the ground as you take in the room.
Large and walled off with four corners. Stone bricks layered atop eachother that compose the barriers. Above hangs an intricate chandelier, the candles lighting it fresh and tall. Although everything has a wealthy, detailed look, there was a simplicity to the space.
