You walked down the busy city sidewalk. Thankfully, it was your day off. The cool breeze was flirting with your (h/l) (h/c) locks.
It had been an awful week at work, so you decided to go on a bit of a shopping spree to treat yourself. The words of your boss drift to the front of your mind.
'I'm so glad we hired you, a great addition to the time.'
He had given you a thousand-watt smile that told you he was buttering you up. Shaking your head, you cursed the blad fuck.
What did he know anyway? You busted your ass every day, and for what?! he gave credit to other people.
"fuck wad," you mumbled, continuing down the path back to your apartment.
Turning your gaze to the sky, there wasn't a cloud in sight, but that didn't mean much in Florida. If there was a pisses chance of rain, you would get it.
At least it wasn't 85 degrees and felt like 105. Fall was coming on time this year. Turning the corner, a highrise building that contained your living courters came into view. You wouldn't lie.
Perhaps you lived a life of luxury, but who cares? It's your money spend it how you wish.
A smile adorns your face as the doorman welcomes you back. "Welcome home, Ms. (L/N)," bowing your head to the gentlemen, you return his kindness.
"Thank you, Reginald." A smile brightened his aging face. He wasn't used to people treating him like a human. Most turned up their noses or scoffed at his greetings.
It irritated you to no end; people were real assholes.
Making the short walk across the lobby to the elevator, you sighed once inside.
All you wanted to do now was get upstairs, enjoy a nice bath and maybe curl up with a cup of hot cocoa and a lovely book. The soft ding, followed by sliding doors, pulled you from your thoughts.
Stepping out onto the 5th floor, you made the trek to the end of the hall.
Stopping in front of apartment 520, placing a shopping bag between your teeth to free up a hand rummaging in your pocket for the key.
A muffled 'ahh ha.' left your lips as you felt the cold metal graze the tip of your finger.
Pulling the key out and slipping it into the lock, you were greeted by the lovely clicking sound of the tumblers freeing up.
Throwing open the door, you toss the keys on the front table, not yet noticing the intruder laid out on the living room floor.
Kicking the door closed and taking a few steps inside, you finally look up as your eyes come to land on the body on the living room floor. You scream and let out a curse dropping the bags.
"Fuck!" Turning around head in your hands, you breathe out and talking aloud to yourself.
"Ok, This isn't happening. I'm going crazy; when I turn around, he won't be there. yeah... ok yeah, it's just in my head.
" Feeling satisfied with your pep talk, you slowly turn back to the object of attention. Groaning as (E/C) orbs land on the assailant. "ok, he seems to be out cold.
I'll just grab a knife from the kitchen and try to wake him."
Walking into the kitchen, you head for the butcher's block and choose the chef's knife. It was the biggest one in your kitchen arsenal.
In order to retrieve the katana, that would require getting too close to sleeping beauty unarmed no thanks.
Getting a good grip on the handle, you approach slowly, staying out of arms reach for now. Clearing your throat before a warning leaves your lips
"Hey buddy, I don't know how you got in, but I suggest you get up real slow and leave!" The body stays lifeless on the floor. rubbing your face, you take a step closer.
"Fuck you better no be dead." As you get closer, you notice he is wet 'wet? How the fuck is he soaked? It hasn't rained in days.
' The thought trails off when you see the wings of freedom adorning the back of a hunter green cloak. 'What the hell is he military?'
At this point, the confusion was getting worse; tilting your head, a glint of light caught your eye. 'ODM gear troops haven't used that since the titans were roaming around.
' you would know since history was your favorite subject in school and the time of the titans one of your favorites to study.
You decided to take in more of the sleeping man, your eyes trailing up to his silky black locks laid out over his face. His hair looked like Somebody had trimmed it recently.
Very straight, precise lines made up the undercut hairstyle he was sporting. Curiosity was getting the better of you as your body seemed to move on its own.
Kneeling beside the man, you check the inside of his cloak for a name. You had to admit if this was for some reenactment, the uniform was excellently executed.
Lifting the right corner, you felt ruff stitching against your soft fingertips flipping it to take in your mystery man's last name.
Voice barely a whisper as it passed your lips "Ackerman? No fucking way." Now your heart was racing. Maybe he was a fanboy of humanity's strongest, a uniform, and hair cut was easy to imitate.
Yeah, that made more sense than the man himself lying on your floor.
Braving it, you shifted on your knees till you came to rest right next to his head. Placing the knife on the floor, you reach cautiously to brush the hair from his face.
When the curtain of hair is pulled back, your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. Without warning, his eyes fly open as he gasps for air, a firm hand gripping your wrist painfully tight.