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three, three?

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...

ARMIN'S POV

I think the moment I truly fell in love with her, was when she was painting 'HIM', her last piece. We had been watching her for some time before that, but watching how focused she was when she was actually painting made pleasure swirl in the pit of my stomach.

It made me so happy to realize she was working to move on from her last boyfriend. I wanted the only guys on her mind to be us. I know she won't ever truly forget him, and some might think it cruel to wish she did, but I'm okay with it. I can't erase her past or pain, but I can make it better for her.

I flex my fingers and curl my fists as I listen to Eren's incessant fidgeting. He was a bit impatient. I was the only reason he was taking this so slow. To be fair, this attic wasn't my favorite place either, I'd much rather be downstairs right now, but we did enough for the day.

She was so cute when she was asleep.

My fingers hover over the character keys, thinking of what I want to tell her next. What message do I want to leave for her to see in the morning.

Eren walked around, touching shit as his features were set in annoyance. I rolled my eyes, "What do you want to tell her?" I ask, in hopes of distracting him from his ever-growing need.

"That she better be ready," he says, without turning to look at me. "Because when it's time... she's mine."

My eyes narrow, my brain recalling our agreement. "Ours." I correct, my gaze fleeting back to the old typewriter. "She's ours."

Eren scoffed, "Yeah, yeah," he picked something up and looked at it for a bit in silence.

"Something like, 'Better be ready, baby,' then, hm?" I hum pleasantly, eyes squinting slightly over my glasses as I begin to type. When he doesn't answer, I look at him. "What are you looking at?"

"Pretty sure someone was murdered in this house," he murmurs.

"Does that freak you out?" I ask as if I was genuinely concerned, but Eren knows me better than that. He knows I'm taunting him.

He glares at me and I smirk, "Well?"

Eren stalks over and places an old newspaper on the table in front of me. I pick it up and read the headline, 'UNSOLVED MURDER ALLEGEDLY TOOK PLACE IN MEADOWS MANOR', then my eyes fleet to the date, '1985'.

"Allegedly. Meaning people had their suspicions but no proof," I say, dismissing the newspaper by setting it aside.

"Thanks, genius, I know what allegedly means," he deadpans. "Still."

"I know you're upset about not being able to have your way with Y/n yet, but the attitude's unnecessary," I chirp, feeling amused.

This time it's his turn to roll his eyes. I type the message and pull the lever, promptly releasing the paper and pulling it out from between the rollers. "We should get out of here."

He tucks his hand in his pocket and pulls out his phone, checking it before nodding, letting me know it's okay to leave without being seen.

Y/N'S POV

You're sprawled out on your bed in a pile of limbs.

Your eyes open slowly with a bit of reluctance, the crust in your eyes keeping you from opening them with ease. You rub your face and sit up, looking around. You looked over the edge of your bed, feeling anxious to stand.

Like a fool, you stood and stretched your leg over what you deemed to be a good enough distance and hopped off your bed, successfully ungrabbed by whatever stayed under your bed rent-free.

You huff and curse to yourself when you recall going to the kitchen last night after hearing a sound that made your entire stomach drop.

The front door clicked shut.

You know that if whoever was in your house planned to kill you they probably would've done it already, but still, what if they were the type to play with their food? You weren't into the games and you had gotten up to grab a knife.

You left it under your mattress while you slept. You step out, looking to the right to look down the hall before turning your head the other way to look down your stairs. When was it exactly that you started feeling so paranoid in your own home?

You wanted, desperately, to brush your teeth, but you had to see if Jean was here first just in case you started hearing noises. You walked down the hall, to the guest room, and knocked. You hadn't a clue what time it was.

"Jean?" You called and when you didn't hear an answer, you opened the door.

You didn't see him inside. You stepped further in and looked around. The bed was neat. Super neat. Almost as if Jean was never here last night. You noticed the curtains were open and walked over to close them.

You walked back out, shutting the door behind you while lifting your other hand to scratch the itch that bloomed on your scalp.

You yawned and walked downstairs and into your kitchen, starting on a coffee. By the time you got back from getting ready for the day, the coffee would be done.

Jean was right, you think as you look through your fridge and pantry, that you really need to go shopping. You grabbed a piece of bread to toast and popped it in the toaster oven and then turned back to go to the bathroom.

You brushed your hair and teeth, and you washed your face, only then feeling refreshed. You sprayed deodorant on and marched up the stairs to grab an outfit for the day.

It was only then, that you realized a note was on your nightstand. You breathed out heavily but didn't dare breathe back in as you picked up the note to read it.

Sorry, had to leave early, thanks for letting me stay the night

-Jean

P.S. ... not a ghost.

You let out a breath of relief before smiling to yourself at his words. He always teased you for your silly fear. With a huff that nearly sounded like a laugh, you opened the top drawer that was heavily unorganized and froze.

Another one?

Your brows furrowed as you picked this note up. The paper was different than Jean's but frighteningly familiar.

You read the words: Better be ready, baby.

Except there was something different about this note. This time, at the bottom of the page it says, E.

"'E,'" you murmur to yourself. They didn't put a letter at the bottom last time,... did they? It was nothing to go on, really, but to you, it was a thread of hope that you could tell the police and maybe they could do something about it.

You still had the other note they left you so you took it out and searched for a letter. You flipped the page around and looked there too.

Nothing.

You breathed as your body shook, willing yourself to calm down. You swallow your fears and lift your bed a little, grabbing the large kitchen knife that was residing there.

This was beginning to piss you off further, you had to do something about it. Should you search around the house? Maybe they're still here. As you walked out, the smell of coffee hit your nose but you didn't give it much thought, about to start on your little adventure.

You knew they weren't in the guest room or your bedroom, so you checked the art room. Nothing there. You went downstairs and checked your living spaces, your closets (including the small built-in one in your staircase), your washroom, and your pool room. But nothing.

Part of you was hoping you'd find someone lurking about so that you could stab them in the damn face and just be done with the shit, but that's probably a bit pretentious of you.

You shuffled to your kitchen, setting your knife on the counter next to your coffee machine as you grabbed a glass. You poured yourself a large one. You were feeling iced coffee, so that's what you whipped up.

You could be freezing and still into cold drinks, maybe that was weird, but a lot of weird things have been happening. You've always been pretty weird, you suppose.

You grabbed a near-empty jar of Nutella and slathered the chocolate on the slice. Unhealthy? You clearly didn't care. Quick and simple, and you loved it.

You wanted to go grocery shopping because you hadn't been out in a little while, but you just couldn't drive. You refused to. And Insta-carting or something meant giving people your address and it's no big mystery why you feel really iffy about that.

You were halfway done with your Nutella Toast when you jolted at the sound of a knock on your front door. The rap echoing through your house. You sat your food on the coffee table and walked over to the door, looking through the peephole.

Your shoulders deflate and you look down at your attire. Sweats and an oversized shirt. You shrug and open the door, "I definitely didn't forget about our session," you smile nervously.

He's looks unimpressed and majorly done with your shit. "Mhm," he hums lowly and you move to the side to let him in. You shut the door behind him and sit down on your couch, while he sits on a chair beside you. He reaches into his bag and he pulls out the notes he has on you.

"What's on the agenda today, Mr. Ackermann?" You ask and take a sip of your coffee. "Wait, but before we start, do you want anything? I have... water," you say sheepishly, remembering he doesn't like coffee and you ran out of tea a while ago.

"I'm fine," he says, flipping through his notes. "So, as we discussed last time, there's been major progress since you first started, but because you've come so far, I would like to bump the challenges up a bit." He rests his right ankle on his left knee as he crosses his legs and flicks the strands of hair in his eyes out of it, meeting your gaze.

"Okay,..." you're not entirely sure what he wants you to do today, but you're a bit nervous.

"For the past 6 months I had you doing mainly mental exercises, I think it's about time we do more physical activities," he says and you can tell he's being cautious with his words. "How do you feel about that?"

"Physical? Like what??" you swallow, awaiting his answer.

"Like getting behind a wheel. Sit there, maybe hold the wheel in your hands," he suggests.

"Just... sit there?" you ask.

"If you're comfortable, yes."

You scratch the back of your neck, that itch slowly inching its way back into your body. "...Okay." You gulp and take a sip of your coffee. "I'll sit there. But... I can't do anything else."

"That's fine," he reassures. "That's all the activities I have for you."

You nod, glancing at your toast.

"You can eat first," he tells you. "So, tell me, do you have any plans this week?"

This was pretty routine. He'd ask you normal questions throughout your session. At first, you thought it was pointless and gave him a hard time about it. But eventually, you started to humor him and it grew on you. Now you feel comfortable enough to talk to him about almost anything.

"Uh, well, yesterday Jean made me paint a little, it's not much... but I was thinking of trying to work on that some more," you say, taking a bite of your toast, your hands shaking slightly from the thought of the task he wants you to perform.

"Oh, yeah? Want to tell me about it? What do you have in mind?"

"Well, so far it's only red. He told me not to think about it much and I ended up randomly picking that color, ... I don't know why. I have no clue what I'm going to do with it, but I promised Jean I'd try."

"Hm," he hums. "I'm glad you have something to put your mind to. Anymore plans?"

"Jean said I should go grocery shopping,..." you look at him.

He nods. "How do you plan to do that?"

You shrug and silence overcomes you for a minute. He lets you think but after a little while, he asks, "Anything that you want to do? Anything you've planned for yourself?"

"Um, ... I've been reading a little lately. I want to continue reading more of this author's work. It's so good," you say truthfully.

"What's it about?"

"It's about a woman falling in love with a man who suddenly came into her life, only for her to unravel the twisted truths about him. It's a thriller," you explain. "I can't wait to see how it ends."

"Who's it by?" He places a pale finger under his lips as he listens to you.

"That's the mysterious part about it," you say, smiling. "No one knows. They're an indie anonymous author, no one knows what they look like, their name or if they're a man or a woman, nothing. It's pretty cool."

"Huh," he grunts and you think he's interested. "So how do people find the books without the author's name?"

"Because it's all under Anonymous, I bet you never heard another author under that name," your eyes sparkle.

"True. That's a pretty clever idea," he murmurs. "So, reading. I like it. Have you been getting out lately?" You are hesitant with your response so he says, "Be truthful, how many times a week do you go outside?"

"Uhh, like... I don't know..."

"Have you gone out any this week?" He raises a brow.

"No,.." you purse your lips.

He gives you a look and then he stands up. "Okay, I think it's time we try that activity, hm?"

You look up at him and swallow before standing up and sliding on your slippers, eventually following his lead as he opens your front door and guides you out front to where your car sits.

A car you haven't driven for over a year now.

EREN'S POV

Armin's lucky I like his plan to lure her in.

Or else I would've been moved in and let her meet me for the first time. Watch her eyes light up with fear and exhilaration at the sight of me, of me circling her as if she were my prey.

Right now this feels like the very prolonged moment where the predator hides in the shadows and watches their prey, waiting for the right time to pounce.

It's annoying and testing my patience. I'll wait though, because she'll taste that much sweeter when it's time. When her being is consumed with fear and that moment she realizes I'm not there to hurt her, she'll be curious, maybe angry about it all.

At least not unless she needs to be punished.

And that sounds divine.

Unfortunately, for this plan to take off, Armin has to move in first, meaning he gets to meet her before I do. It makes me nearly crush the glass that's in my hand at the thought. But I control myself and continue wiping it down.

I don't have to be here at my bar much, since I have workers to do all the work for me, but it gives me something to do so I'm not constantly at that Goddess's house. The longer we stay and linger the more we risk her catching us. And apparently, that can't happen yet. But I can't wait.

I really can't. The thought ... it's thrilling.

She's so sexy when she thinks no one's watching.

We're not creeps, of course. We let her shower and change in privacy. We don't have to sneak peeks because we know when it's time, she's going to willingly strip for us.

But when she goes about her day-to-day, thinking she's alone, aside from her little apparitions, she's so hot. When she's reading or focusing on something, all I want to do is devour her whole.

My eyes scan over the place, people laughing, drinking, ... that's what this place is for. This is what Kruger's is for. The people sway slightly in their seats as The Scorpion takes over the stage with her beautiful singing.

The sight makes me happy.

I can't wait to bring our baby out here so she can be a part of it. I don't like seeing her all couped up like that all the time... but then again, as long as she's safe.

As long as she's within me or Armin's grasp, I'm at peace.

That reminds me, I should check up on her.
I take my phone out of my pocket and I go to my security app. Armin's like a damn genius or something and somehow got hidden cameras and motion detectors that recognize her into her place, so we can check in whenever we felt like it.

At this very moment, she's walking up the stairs, hesitant as she glances up at them, trying to see past its shadows and up the hall. She's wondering if we're there.

That thought makes me warm inside. Makes my body tingle all over.

Soon.

So very soon.

LilReaper_

originally written 07.09.24

published and edited 07.10.24

total words; 2888