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myherowritings · 4 years ago

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PART 5. THE INHERENT EROTICISM OF BUTTONING SOMEONE’S CLOTHES

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 3.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. sexual tension !! and umm sexual frustration ;p, not explicit but prob rated 16+, just read the title of this chapter BAHAHA

A/N. sorry this is coming a little later than planned ! :( but i hope the dressing room scene can make up for it u.u tysm for reading and for all the feedback! enjoy :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

What were you supposed to wear to a shopping date? you asked yourself. Not that today was a date or anything. Though maybe you sort of wished it were…

The Naruhata Charity Gala was in a little over a week and Shouto would be coming over to pick you up in less than one hour and you still sat in your room with nothing but a towel on feeling more and more hopeless.

It was a strange dilemma. He met you in your work apron wearing an unflattering work shirt and work pants. And when you met up over the weekend previously, you never paid too much mind on what you would wear. In fact, you were positive he wouldn’t even care how you looked. So why was it such a big deal to you now?

Probably because of your recent admission of your growing feelings towards him, you thought crossly.

In your defense, it wasn’t like it was your fault! Right? Seeing someone everyday… Wanting to see someone everyday… Texting regularly about the most random things, having the most banal objects you saw throughout the day remind you of something Shouto did or said… With all those occurrences it would’ve been practically impossible to not start crushing on him!

Time passed as you stared at your ceiling blankly. If you kept this up, he was bound to show up in your house and find you half-naked. (Now that you mentioned it, that didn’t sound like the worst idea. But it wasn’t something you’d randomly spring upon someone.)

“Get up, Y/N!” you scolded yourself, rolling off your bed and heading towards your closet.

In the end, you ended up settling for another variation of your usual go-to outfit and called it a day. It happened to be perfect timing since, by the time you finished getting ready, you got a new message on your phone.

Shouto: Parked in front of your place

Shouto: Sorry I’m a little early. You can take your time getting ready :)

Y/N: it’s okay i’m ready now!!

After hitting send, you put your shoes on, gathering your belongings you wanted to bring with you, and headed out the door. Excited to hang out with Shouto again, you walked with a skip in your step down the path until you reached his car.

“Hi!” You waved through his half-opened, tinted window. To no one’s surprise, his car was a sleek black color with dark, tinted windows, and gold details along the sides. If it didn’t look so oddly sexy you would’ve laughed at how cutely dorky he was for matching his car with his credit card. “This is one hot car.”

He turned his head to the side when you entered the passenger’s seat. “Should I turn the AC higher?”

“Huh— Oh!” You stifled a giggle when you processed the pun he made. “You’re funny, Shouto.”

He only looked a little confused. “Thank you.”

The interior of his car was no less—for lack of better term—sexy than the outside. Leather seats, a large screen for the radio and carplay, and the dashboard and side doors lit up a nice blue color.

“Pretty!” you complimented, poking at the colorful light.

“Want to pick a color?”

Your eyes widened. “It can change colors?!”

Shouto nodded.

“Can it be pink?” you asked intently.

“Light pink or hot pink?”

“Light.”

He swiftly obliged and with a hit of a touchscreen button, the interior lighting changed from blue to pastel pink.

“Green!”

It turned green.

“Orange!”

Cue the orange.

“Purple?”

Purple.

Once you were thoroughly satisfied with Shouto showing you the whole color selection (you were almost embarrassed to admit it kept you entertained for a good ten minutes), you settled on a bright turquoise that reminded you of the color of his left eye.

“Ooh, this color! My favorite,” you said simply, giving him a wide smile.

A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he developed a sudden interest in adjusting his rearview mirror. “Hm.”

Shouto drove the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, occasionally asking how your week was outside of work and what type of outfit you wanted to wear so he could have a better idea on where to take you.

“Did you eat?” he suddenly asked when he hit the next stoplight, one hand holding the wheel and the other resting comfortably on the gear shift.

His hands looked nice and slender and soft to the touch. Pretty hands, you thought but shook yourself out of it because you could go down a rabbit hole of examining his hands and going into detail about them.

You remembered the single, measly granola bar you had due to your rush getting ready. “I didn’t really eat yet, no. Did you?”

He shook his head and pulled into a food plaza with lots of stores to choose from. The two of you agreed on a noodle restaurant that apparently had some of the best cold soba (once you learned it was his favorite food, you wanted to be able to have some with him and today was the perfect opportunity to do just that) and promptly headed to the location.

In the shop, a waiter sat the two of you down at a dimly lit booth with the perfect amount of ambience that if someone were to casually look over, they might even mistake this outing as a date.

You grinned at the thought.

“Excited for the soba?” asked Shouto, examining the smile on your face thoughtfully.

That’s not why you were smiling, but it was close enough. “Mhm. And the udon. You can never go wrong with noodles!”

Yes, you got both udon and soba. But in your defense, where else would the fun in life be if not in sugary sweets and carbs?

As the two of you waited for your main dishes, you ate some fish cakes and edamame while talking about the ways in which capitalism could be dismantled. Rather sexy of him, if you did say so yourself.

Before you knew it, you were done with your meal and headed back into his car to go fancy-people shopping. On the remainder of the ride, you asked yourself what color you should pick that would match well with both you and Shouto. After all, nothing said a cute couple who totally liked each other going on a totally real date to a gala like color-coordinated outfits, right?

He parked in front of a street of buildings with a dark glass reaching from ceiling to floor with security guards at the door. Just standing near it made you feel fancy.

“This is a place my sister told me she liked,” he said, leading you to the store front with his hand on the small of your back to guide you. “I hope you’ll find something to your liking.”

You tried your best not to pay too much attention to the warmth you felt both on your back and your stomach from the fuzzy feelings that spread.

“Hello, welcome!” the both of you were greeted as you walked through the doors. The interior of the store was lined with designer dresses, some long, some short, and all incredibly stunning. There were only a few other patrons in the store, but all of them looked so elegant as they tried on their dresses. “It’s so lovely to see you again Mr. Todoroki.”

Shouto nodded subtly. “Hello. This is Y/N, my date to the gala who’ll need your assistance today.”

“Hi!” you chimed in at his cue. “Nice to meet you.”

The worker smiled and made her way over to you. “And you as well. I’m Masuda and I’ll do my best to make sure you leave the store satisfied with your purchase! Did you have a particular style or perhaps color in mind?”

“Umm,” you said sheepishly, looking around the wide variety of clothings and unsure where to start. “I’m not too sure. It’s my first time going to one of these things so maybe something comfortable, but also still...fancy?” You scratched the back of your neck. “Does that even exist?”

“Of course— Just have to find something that feels comfortable to you.” She told you to hold on one moment as she disappear into the rows of fabric.

As Masuda collected some starter dresses for you to try on, a customer walked by with bags of clothes in her hands, her gaze lingering on Shouto, though neither of you paid her much mind.

“In this setting, you look almost fit to be a sugar daddy,” you said jokingly, looking around in awe at the sophisticated yet lavish dresses. “You take all your sugar babies here?”

“Only the ones I really like,” he teased back. His voice was deadpan but there was the telltale hints of a smirk on his face to let you know he was only messing with you.

The door chimed to signal that a customer left and by then Masuda had returned with bundles of fabric draped on her arm. She led you away in a hurry and you hesitantly looked back at Shouto who followed in a safe distance. Seeing your moment of panic, he gave you an encouraging smile that somehow was enough to ease a significant fraction of your nerves. This may be new and confusing territory, but at least he was here to help you through it.

Masuda set a dressing room up for you—it was one of those rooms in the middle of the store with curtains that reached the ceiling and mirrors all around—and placed a bunch of outfits she thought would suit your taste. It reminded you of when a bride would go wedding dress shopping with their family. When you had enough outfits for the first round, she told Shouto to sit down on a leather seat in front of your dressing room while he waited for you to try the different dresses on.

In a way, it felt oddly intimate: Shouto sitting just a few feet in front of you as you undressed, only separated by the veil of a curtain. Would he offer to help button the back of your dress up, fingers brushing against your bare skin? The thought made you feel almost hot inside as you changed out of your street clothes and into the first dress.

Unfortunately for you, this dress had no such difficult buttons to reach.

“How’s it look?” you asked shyly as you emerged from the dressing room.

The dress was pretty and didn’t feel uncomfortable to walk in, but there wasn’t any sort of attachment you felt towards it. In other words, it was simply...meh.

Shouto looked up from his phone to take in the sight of you. He smiled. “You look amazing as always.”

“You think so?” You spun around and curtseyed jokingly and he chuckled. “I don’t think it’s bad, but I’m not sure if it’s the right one.”

“We’ll be here until you find the right one you want, then. Take your time, Y/N.”

His voice was normally on the deeper side, but it sounded even more sensual and gravelly at this very moment. You felt goosebumps on your arms and it wasn’t just because of the sleeveless dress you currently had on.

“T-Thanks, Shouto,” you murmured, turning around and walking back into the changing room to hide the look on your face. You didn’t even know what kind of look you had on your face, but you knew it was one that might give too much away.

It wasn’t fair that he had to be so sweet and caring and thoughtful and handsome and rich… Most guys you met barely fit into one of those criteria, let alone all five. (Sure, the last two weren’t necessary in your opinion, but you couldn’t deny they were a nice bonus.) It was too bad you had no clue how he felt about you.

There were moments where he felt flirty and teasing, like maybe he viewed you in a more-than-friends way. But other times he was so polite and proper and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was just being nice because that’s simply the sort of person he was to everyone.

While you were trying to sort through all your thoughts, you completely forgot to change into a new dress the whole time you were in here.

You saw a shadow at the floor of the curtain before a voice said, “Y/N? Are you okay in there?”

Jumping at the sound, you scurried to put the next dress on, a blue one with almost translucent fabric and a delicate neckline. Judging from the proximity of Shouto’s voice and the shadow of his shoes, he was right next to you as you changed.

“I’m okay!” you managed, hoping you didn’t sound as wobbly as you felt. You held the dress closed at the back, fumbling with the fastens. “I just, ah, needed help buttoning this one up.”

A light ruffle on the curtain then a pause. “Should I...come in and help?”

Your eyes widened, not expecting him to actually offer to button it up like you fantasized earlier. You fully thought he might called the worker to aide you just so he wouldn’t risk making you uncomfortable. (Not that he would’ve. At all.)

“I apologize,” he said somewhat tensely after you didn’t respond. “That was indecent of me—”

“No, no!” you said profusely, poking your head out of the curtain while holding the fabric at the front of your dress to your chest. You tilted your chin to meet his gaze with a determined one of your own. “I’d love your help, Shouto.”

With a dusting of pink coloring his cheeks, he nodded and entered your dressing room. “This dress is a nice color on you.” His voice was loud against the silence.

Shouto ran his hand down the length of your spine and then up to unfold the column of buttons on your dress that curved inwards at your movement, his knuckles grazing against your skin like lightning striking water. You jolted at the sudden feeling but he didn’t remove his touch when he felt it.

“Sorry.” His voice was low, almost like a whisper. “Was just getting the buttons out.”

“N-No worries!”

His fingers began working on the bottom-most button at your lower back as he applied a steady pressure on the base of your spine to control the motion. Shouto slowly began his way up, fingertips cold to the touch. But you knew that wasn’t the only reason you felt yourself shiver. As he fastened the dainty buttons with immense concentration (much more concentration than was actually needed to fasten buttons, you were sure), you felt the heat of his breath tickling the back of your neck. You almost couldn’t keep yourself from arching your back in a mixture of anticipation and delight at his constant touch.

When he finished the last button, Shouto let one hand rest on your hip, grasping the fabric between his fingertips to examine its silken texture. Your breath caught in your throat as you stepped back and bumped into his chest, but he was already there to steady you.

With his arm on your waist and your back leaning against his chest, you made eye contact through the mirror in front of you. You weren’t sure if the pounding you felt was from your heart or his or a combination of both.

There was something almost erotic about holding each others’ gaze in the mirror after Shouto just helped you dress, the two of you still not letting the other go despite the task being complete.

“The dress… You look gorgeous,” he said, not taking his eyes off you for one moment.

You nodded slowly. It did look amazing on you. And it was breathable and soft. (Plus, Shouto liked it, which made you happier than you’d care to admit.) “The only downside would be I need help getting into it.”

“We could get ready together so it’s no issue.”

“I’d...also need help getting out of it.”

You held your breath as his eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly in a way that made you curve your back before you remembered you were flush against Shouto and he could feel even the most subtle of movements coming from your body. But by the time you stopped yourself, it was too late. He already felt it and you wanted more.

His voice was hoarse. “I could help you with that too.”

Instead of beginning to unbutton the dress like part of you thought he would, he surprised you by spinning you around to face him, your shoulder blades pressed against the cool glass of the mirror and your palms lingering on the muscles of his warm chest. The contrast of the cold glass and Shouto’s body heat left a shiver down your spine.

“And how do you plan to help take off my dress when you can’t even see the buttons?” you said challengingly, a smirk on your face despite knowing full well your body was showcasing just how affected you were by this situation. By Shouto.

He tilted his head to the side in response to your daring tone, hands swiftly finding their way to your back and unbuttoning the top five buttons. It wasn’t enough to completely expose your breasts, but it was enough to loosen the fabric at the neckline in a way that made you gasp.

“Seems doable to me,” he commented.

You tugged him down slightly by the collar of his shirt. “I don’t quite believe you. Maybe you should prove it.”

A guttural noise sounded from the back of his throat as he cupped your jaw and leaned in closer. You inched forward, eager to meet his lips. But before they could touch, a knock came from the wall next to the curtain, causing the two of you to freeze in your spots, bodies pressed against each other in an intimate flush.

“Hello, Y/N?” said Masuda cheerfully, blissfully ignorant about what was about to happen in a public dressing room in the middle of the store. “How are the dresses coming along? Did you like any?”

“Ah, actually…” you trailed off, exchanging frustrated but amused glances with Shouto. “I think we’ll take this one.”

a/n: so...mirror sex/sex in a dressing room as a bonus chapter? u.u why yes of course. i’m one step ahead; did u even have to ask? LMAO and hm i wonder if y/n’s fEeLiNGs~ are reciprocated skfkfkdg ALSO THEY WERE SO CLOSE TO KISSING BUT DIDN’T I CRY hopefully the wait will be worth it ;3

what to expect in the next part:

GALA TIMEEEE

yes y/n finally gets the fancy candy they so desired

we get to see shouto’s sexy penthouse

shouto says eat the rich >:c

2K notes · View notes

dovechim · 4 years ago

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blessed be the fruit 01 (m)

➾ 3.6k, taehyung x reader, future OT7

➾ loosely based off The Handmaid’s Tale. In the New World Order that is Gilead, your life depends on your ability to bring a new one into existence.

➾ warnings: unprotected sex, mentions of infertility, pregnancy, mentions of dubcon

➾ a/n: I had serious hesitation and doubts about this. but after a three month break and looking at it from a distance, I still want to go ahead with this AU because I want to draw attention to the themes of reclaiming agency & identity whilst under oppression. So I hope that you could get the message I’m trying to convey rather than focus on the noncon indubitably present in this AU.

I'm saying this to clearly outline my intentions, for I do not condone rape or non-consensual sex whatsoever.

that being said, I have plans to turn this into an ot7 series fic, but here is a little starter just to kind of test the waters a little :-) if you’re here, I've already warned you about what you’re signing up for, so please skip this if uncomfortable and refrain from sharing any malicious thoughts with me.

Crimson is the colour that denotes life. But these days, only the rare few have the privilege to don that colour; the deep red hue of the cloak that is meant to simultaneously draw attention to, and also hide your figure.

Handmaids are to be seen and not heard. They are to speak only when spoken to. The white wings that adorn either side of your head keep your gaze lowered reverently at all times. Meek and subdued, but always watching, waiting.

The supermarket is quiet and orderly as you stroll through the aisles with your partner close by your side. You have never seen more than a glimpse of her face, neither have you heard more than a few words of her voice other than the greetings you exchange when you meet every morning.

Even the task of grocery shopping, which you used to enjoy before the rise of Gilead, has become nothing but a sham. There is no decision to be made. Your purchases are entirely dependent on the coupons given to you by the Wife of your Household. Today, it’s the usual rice and vegetables, with one or two oranges thrown in as a request from the Cook.

“Under His Eye,” you murmur as you pass the other Handmaids and their partners, all doing their shopping with their partners.

You can’t see it with your head lowered, but there are armed guards stationed throughout the grocery store with guns cocked and menacing stares. The Eyes are always watching and listening, and you begin to feel suffocated.

“I believe I have everything I need,” you speak in a lowered voice, turning slightly to your partner, thinking of how to best hurry her along without making it too obvious. “Is there anything else you lack?”

“I too, am done, OfJeon,” your partner replies back, and you have to physically stop yourself from flinching.

Even though it is the proper way to address another Handmaid, you avoid using the names bestowed upon you by their Household’s Commanders. You try your best to not associate yourself with that name, for fear that you might come to forget your own in due time, but it gets more and more difficult as the days go by.

‘Of’ denoting possession, and ‘Jeon’ for your Commander’s last name. Put together, they form your identity, the identity that Gilead has carved out for you as an object.

The moment you forget your real name is the moment you lose yourself.

“Let us depart, OfPark,” you say with tightly clenched lips, grateful for the white wings that hide your bitter expression as you turn toward the exit of the grocery store.

Your basket is heavy with groceries, and the wind whips up your red cloak the moment you step outside. You glance up for a moment to see the gray skies, feel the wind on your cheeks before you dip your head down again, cautious of exposing your face for more than a second.

Here, to blend in is to survive.

“Have you made all the necessary preparation, OfJeon?” Your partner asks as she links her arm through yours, and you begin the slow march home.

You drag your feet slightly, hoping to prolong the walk. Aside from the brief half hour of grocery shopping every day, you hardly get a chance to be outside. To remember what the real world feels like, even though it is changing so quickly every day. You’re too busy trying to memorise the way the wind feels against your cloak that you are caught slightly offguard by OfPark’s question.

“Preparation?” Your voice comes out slightly unsure.

“For the Ceremony, of course,” comes her reply, and you can’t stop yourself from inhaling sharply.

Is it already that time of the month? How could you have lost track?

A lump forms in your throat as you attempt to calm yourself. “Yes, OfPark. Everything is ready.”

You are lying through your teeth, but the thing is, interactions are kept to such a bare minimum that no one knows you well enough to know that you are lying. If today is the day of the Ceremony, it means a visit to the doctor’s this afternoon. Your breath speeds up at the thought of it, palms becoming sweaty.

OfPark comes to a stop outside of your house, and unlinks her arm from yours.

“Blessed be the fruit,” she says by way of farewell.

“May the Lord open,” the automatic response falls from your lips without much thinking.

Then the gates open, and you enter the house quietly, setting your basket on the kitchen counter. You can hear footsteps coming from the main hallway as soon as you take your white bonnet off.

“You’re back, I was just about to send a guard to fetch you.” In her royal blue dress that tapers at her waist and falls nearly to her ankles, the Wife of the Household is always neatly pressed and well put together. Kim Yeri fixes you with an annoyed glare as she brushes her silky blonde hair behind her ear. You haven’t known her by that name in a long while, because like any other woman, she is only to be addressed by her title in society.

“Did you forget your appointment?” She demands, crossing her arms. She has never been outrightly mean to you, yet her manner is far from friendly. But its totally understandable, of course. Which woman would be content knowing her husband was required by law to fuck a baby into someone else?

“No, Madam. The line at the supermarket was-“

“Get in the car. We’re already late.” Yeri is not interested in your excuse as she cuts you off, turning to grab her purse, and her dress flows gracefully behind her slim figure as she walks to the door.

You barely have time to put your bonnet back on, fixing it so that it is presentable once more before following her outside. Yeri is already in the back seat of the black SUV car, and you climb in beside her. You catch a glimpse of Driver Jung’s eyes in the mirror, but quickly glance away before Yeri can catch you.

Drivers aren’t allowed to have Handmaids of their own. Instead, they live to serve the Household of their Commanders. As the car pulls smoothly out of the front gate, you begin to wonder who Driver Jung was before Gilead. If he had loved ones that he lost. If he too, was slowly starting to forget the person he was back then.

The blacked-out windows of the car don’t allow you to see anything outside. It is a tense journey made in complete silence as you can feel Yeri’s annoyance slowly mounting into a barely withheld fury. It is the same every month. You try to sympathise with her, to put yourself in her shoes as someone who has to accompany the woman her beloved husband is to have sex with to a fertility check-up.

When the car stops, Driver Jung rushes out of his seat to open the door for Yeri first, then he crosses to your side and opens your door. You thank him with a shy nod, careful to keep your eyes fixed on the ground as you follow Yeri into the clinic.

The waiting room has about one or two other Wife-Handmaid pairs. As you walk in, you catch the eye of one of the Handmaids who is heavily pregnant. Her swollen belly protrudes from her red cloak, and her hands look so small in comparison as she strokes her bump reverently. The Wife sits beside her, a look of pride on her face as if she were the one pregnant.

It is such a rare sight to see a pregnant Handmaid these days. Even though the Handmaids were specially selected because of their fertility, your lack of a baby bump is bearing down on you. Each Handmaid is given three chances at each assignment. Three chances to conceive before they are moved to the next Commander. Three assignments in total before she is sent to the Wastelands.

Lining the walls are portraits of Commanders dressed in black, and their Wives dressed in blue, holding little bundles wrapped in white. The couples are all smiling with joy and pride in their eyes.

The Handmaids are nowhere to be seen in the happy families of three.

You don’t know if you should envy or pity the heavily pregnant Handmaid.

Thankfully, due to Yeri’s- or should you say your Commander’s- high status, you are bumped to the front of the line. The receptionist tells you to enter the doctor’s room, but Yeri waves you on with disinterest.

“I can wait outside here, can’t I? She won’t dare try anything,” she says this last part with cold frown, settling herself down on one of the waiting chairs.

“Of course, Mrs Jeon,” the receptionist says with a pleasant smile, then turns to show you into the doctor’s office.

You read the name on the door before you are shuffled into the white, sterile room.

Dr Kim Taehyung.

Two female assistants help you to take off your red cloak and dress you in the standard white gown. You sit on the chair, legs spread wide into the stirrups. The assistants lower a privacy curtain that conceals your face, leaving your lower half anonymous as you hear the door open, then the doctor’s footsteps.

You don’t even get to see his face before you feel his touch on your knees. Dr Kim Taehyung clears his throat before he moves to the side, dipping his gloved hands into a small dish of what you can only assume to be lubrication. The white privacy curtain is nothing but a thin sheet, so you can still make out his figure as he bustles about. You can even see the slope of his nose as he turns his side profile to you for a second.

It’s not until he speaks that you are jolted out of your thoughts by how deep his voice is. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” you answer hesitantly, unconsciously crinkling your medical gown in your fist. No one has ever asked how you’re doing.

“That’s great, now let’s have a look, shall we?” You can hear the smile in his voice, and you feel your body relax a little.

He seems to be kind enough, this Dr Kim Taehyung. Much different from the doctor you had on your first visit. Dr Kim Taehyung has his bedside manner down pat, and even though you can’t see his face, he makes you feel a little bit less tense. His voice soothes you as he talks, saying random things about the weather as he spreads your legs.

Dr Kim Taehyung positions himself in between your thighs, and you feel his gloved hands dangerously close to the apex of them. “So, it says here on your chart that tonight is Ceremony night for you.”

“Yes,” you swallow hard at the reminder. “It is.”

“And how are the Jeons treating you? Everything okay at home?” You can feel him spread your lips with his fingers, starting to poke and prod around as you close your eyes.

“Yes. They treat me very well,” you answer.

He must have caught the monotony of your voice, because his fingers pause.

“You know, you can talk to me. If there’s anything you need.” His concerned voice is like a beacon of light, but your eyes dart around the room cautiously.

You think about the millions of things that you could tell him. How unfair it is to be reduced to a walking womb, and yet, how desperate you are, knowing that this is your third month at the Jeon’s household, and if it doesn’t work…

You swallow all of these thoughts with your fists clenched. You can never let your guard down. He might be one of the Eyes, pretending to be kind so that you might let slip a blasphemous comment about your Commander. There’s no way you’ll incriminate yourself like that, so you just keep your mouth shut. After a while, he goes back to examining you.

“… Alright then,” Dr Kim Taehyung says in a resigned tone. “Let me just check you over and make sure everything is good for tonight. This might feel a little uncomfortable, but just relax for me alright?”

You can’t help but tense up, ironically, at his instruction. But then you feel the warmth of one of his ungloved hands on your thigh, and as he bids you to relax again, he slides his fingers into you, and you can feel his fingers, thick and solid. Your thighs twitch, coming into contact with his hips that are in between them, and he lets out a gentle laugh.

“It’s okay… just a little more.”

Then, he withdraws his fingers slowly, and you let out a breath of relief. It didn’t feel bad, definitely not like the first visit where you felt violated. Dr Kim Taehyung’s gentle and respectful manner is… almost pleasant. You’ve long forgotten what it’s like to be treated like a human being, and not just an object.

“Looks like everything’s in shape, you’re due to ovulate these few days,” he declares, taking off his rubber gloves and tossing them in the bin. “Not that it matters, anyway. Jeon’s probably sterile. Hell, all of the Commanders are sterile.”

You freeze at the sound of that blasphemous curse word. But more importantly, you have to make sure you heard correctly.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You watch his shadow behind the sheet as he ticks a few things on your chart.

In this society, ‘sterile’ is a forbidden word. There is no such thing as a sterile man. There are only women who are fruitful, and women who are barren. But you know better than to subscribe to such damning ideology.

“Darling. I’ve seen so many top Commanders’ Handmaids in this room. In and out, month after month they come back and their Wives ask me why they aren’t pregnant yet.” He places a hand on your knee again, and that human contact makes you realise how much you crave the warmth of another person.

At the same time, his words awaken the hollow desperation in your chest. If… if Jeon is really sterile, that means no matter how many times you try, you won’t get pregnant. If all the Commanders are really sterile, then no matter how many assignments you get…

“It’s your third month here, isn’t it?” His kind voice accompanies the gentle stroke of his thumb on your knee.

Before you can answer, he steps away from you, walking to the door and double checking that it’s locked. Then, he’s between your legs again, and this time, his ungloved hands are caressing the top of your thighs. You can feel his hips pressing against you insistently.

“I can help you,” he says in a low whisper. “It’s your last chance.”

Your mind is in a fog. It’s hard to think clearly when you are craving his touch on your body, and the way in which he wraps your legs around his waist so delicately has you wanting to give in. Let this be a form of rebellion. An act of reclaiming your body and your agency, giving it to a man who treats you like a human being, and more importantly, deciding who you give it to. So that when Jeon performs the Ceremony with you tonight, no one but you will have the secret pleasure of knowing that someone else was here before him.

And if you do get pregnant, you will have the last laugh as you watch Jeon raise a baby that isn’t even his to begin with.

How’s that for rebelling? It’s no longer just about getting pregnant.

“I’ve helped many other Handmaids before,” Dr Kim Taehyung continues furtively. “They were all on their third Assignments. I saved them from the Wastelands.”

You don’t need any more convincing. You reach out and pull the thin privacy sheet aside, finally revealing Dr Kim Taehyung’s face. He looks taken aback at your bold actions.

“Do it, Doctor,” you fix your eyes on him with determination. “Get me pregnant.”

Dr Kim Taehyung looks as if he wasn’t expecting you to say yes to him, and delight slowly spreads across his face. But he can’t help himself from bringing one of his hands to your face, brushing your cheek and admiring your silent, resilient beauty.

“U-um, okay. He-here goes,” he fumbles with his dress pants, and the confidence from minutes ago is nowhere to be found. It occurs to you that he might have been fibbing about helping the other Handmaids before you, but it doesn’t matter. It’s no longer just about getting pregnant, anyway.

Thanks to the lubrication, he slides in easily. You catch a glimpse of him before he does, and a second later you feel his girth acutely. During the Ceremony, the lights are always turned off, so you never have a chance to see what Jeon’s dick looks like. If you were to compare, it feels around the same as Dr Kim’s. Except this time, you are doing this of your own accord.

The squeaking of the chair against the floor is deafeningly loud as he begins to thrust earnestly, and the thrill that you could be caught at any moment makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever been since the rise of Gilead. You can feel him at your cervix as he grips your thighs, and you make sure to wrap them around him tightly.

In an unprecedented move, Dr Kim reaches down to brush his thumb against your clit, and your walls clench around him in response. He swears under his breath as he shifts his position to rest his elbows on either side of you so that he can increase the strength behind his thrusts.

“Sh-shit, you feel so good,” he groans as he sneaks his hand in between your bodies once more to pinch your clit. No one has cared about your pleasure like this in a long while, and you feel your body responding to his ministrations, your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Ha-harder, Doctor,” you feel his cheek press against your breast. “Cum inside me.”

You swear you can feel him twitch inside you, as he bites his lip hard. You have a hard time holding back your derisive laughter as Dr Kim Taehyung gets more turned on than ever. So this is his kink? This is the perfect job for him. Seeing Handmaids who are more often than not desperate to get pregnant, no matter by whom.

You feel a modicum of power back in the palm of your hand, which is more than you’ve felt in ages. The feeling of having power over someone else as you watch the pleasure take over Dr Kim Taehyung’s expression is addictive. The man is losing himself in between your legs, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. Meanwhile you are the one watching him rut pathetically, straining to reach his end.

“Cum inside me, Doctor,” you say again, squeezing your walls around him and relishing his groan. “I’ll make you cum inside me.”

“Pl-please, call me Taehyung,” he pleads, raising himself up on his elbows to beg for a kiss.

You oblige, watching his desperation slowly take over his entire being. His lips are soft as he kisses you like a man starved, and you wonder who was the last person he kissed like this. Does he kiss all of the Handmaids he impregnates?

The next words you say are perfectly calculated. “Taehyung, I want your baby.”

There’s no reaction other than his hands clenching into tight fists, and his breathing getting harsher and harsher as his cock slams deep into you, and you clench around him one more time, only to feel him fill you up with his cum. The seed that you need to get pregnant and save your own life.

He doesn’t stop thrusting. His cock is still twitching inside you, and you can still feel the cum threaten to leak out. Dr Kim Taehyung lets out a long sigh of contentment as he expertly tilts the chair so that your hips are slightly raised.

When he’s satisfied, he slowly pulls out, eyes glued to the mess in between your legs. Only a little bit of cum is dripping out, and he reaches for a tissue to clean it up. The way he’s looking at you, a little bit too fondly, makes you realise that this is getting a bit too personal for your liking.

“Blessed be the fruit,” you remind him, and the phrase is like magic. You are all reminded of your roles in this society, and the forbidden act which you have both committed.

Dr Kim Taehyung seems to sober up when he hears this, as he tucks himself back into his pants and attempts to straighten his doctor’s coat.

“May the Lord open. You should… um. Stay here for the next ten to fifteen minutes. The nurses will be in to help you get dressed shortly,” he clears his throat as he lets the privacy curtain fall back into place. “And um… good luck.”

He leaves the room hurriedly, and you close your eyes, squeezing your thighs together and feeling the warmth that his cum leaves behind, feeling like your body is finally yours again.

You don’t know how much time has passed before the nurses come in and help you get dressed, and when you walk out of the room, Yeri makes a pointed remark about how long she had to wait. You follow her without a word to the car, waiting as Driver Jung opens the door for her, then you.

All the while, a secret smile upon your lips as you feel the cum from earlier drip down your inner thigh.

#bts #bts smut #future ot7 #bts kim taehyung #bts kim taehyung smut

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animeloverskylarmoon · 3 years ago

Text

Ulquiorra Cifer x Reader- Chapter 1 (Bleach)

"You want me to what?!!" Rukia winced. "It's been tough managing the soul society. "I want them to adjust to their new life. So I need someone to help him around Karakura. "

"A-Ask Orihime! Look how close they are!!" you pointed as the oranged haired girl blinked upon hearing her name. She turned to you wave happily.

"Hi (Y/N)-chan!!!" she giggled and you sweatdropped. Rukia did the same as Orihime turned back chatting with the green eyed espada.

"She isn't the most responsible." Rukia conveyed.

"I can see that." you sighed. "Fine, I'll help him. I have room if he needs a place to stay temporarily. " Rukia beamed.

"That's great!"

"Temporary!" you stressed.

"Y-Yes," Rukia replied with a laugh.

"Human." You jumped.

"Crap, I almost forgot you were behind me, you're so quiet."

Rukia explained the situation. After the war, Grimmjow and the others became your alliances. So you were helping them in any way you can. You didn't mind Nel, or even Grimmjow. That's because you could always read them. But with Ulquiorra, you couldn't and it unnerved you. Being around him made you uneasy. Your body turned and you looked at him.

Those blank eyes. It made chills run up your spine. Not the good kind either. He was currently in a gigai. So to the human eye he was pale, but humanly pale. He looked emo. No one would think twice about questioning him.

"My name isn't human." you corrected.

"What is your name?"

"It's (Y/N). " He nodded.

"Very well, (Y/N)-san. What is that thing?" he pointed towards a guy selling cotton candy at a stand. "Oh, it's a snack." He kept staring intensely and you chuckled internally.

"Maybe he wants to try it."

You moved over to the salesman, greeting him and purchasing one of the bundles of cotton candy in a clear bag. You thanked the man walking back over to Ulquiorra.

"Here you go." You held out the snack and he took it. For a while he just stared, and then you realized he probably had no idea how to open it. You pulled at the top popping it open. You dipped your hand in, taking out a piece and putting it in your mouth.

You chewed happily. You really liked sweets. When you looked back, Ulquiorra was staring at you in amazement. You stifle a laugh.

"Try some." you encouraged. He did, taking a piece and placing it in his mouth. His eyes opened a fraction when it touched his tongue.

"It's sweet." you nod. "Yep." your head titled."Do you not like sweets?" you asked.

"I've never had any."

"Oh, well now you have." you stated. He gave a nod, dipping his hand back in and taking another bite. The both of you continued on your way and you smiled a little.

"He might be entertaining to have around."

You didn't have much to do since the war was done. You could use the entertainment. He would be helping with the cleaning of hollows so it wasn't like he was just going to be lazing around.

~~~

"So that's the bath. If you need anything else just let me know." you handed him some fresh towels.

"Also I think we need to go and get you some more clothes. " He looked down at his jeans and shirt. "This is fine." he assured.

"You're gonna need more than just one outfit. "

"Why?"

"U-Uh, b-because, w-well because you can't wear that everyday. Things get dirty so you have to wash it."

"We never washed at Hueco Mundo." your eyebrow twitches.

"Well here we do."

"Humans are strange." He commented.

"Anyway I have to get to my job so just hang out here. Try not to break anything." you instructed. You didn't give a chance to reply because you were rushing out the door.

Ulquiorra stood watching as you ran off. "Humans are rather impolite as well. " he said aloud.

#ulquiorra shiffer #ulquiorra x reader #bleach #ichigo x orihime #orihime inoue #love #friends #espadas #new feelings #cute #humor #friendships #ichigo kurosaki #reader insert

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years ago

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter One

Finally! I’m sorry this took so long, I’m a nervous wreck.

Notes: this was originally a warmup for character interactions/setting. It is very dialogue heavy.

\\ Warnings: alcohol //

A single tumbleweed was all that crossed Scott’s path when he arrived in the Red Desert. It was rather comical, he stood and watched it roll away until he couldn’t see it through the sheets of sand blowing over the ground.

In the distance, the only mountain located in the desert biome loomed over the horizon. Imposingly backlit by the red, swirling, tendrils of the world border. Most residents kept away from the thing, as it was meant to give off an unsettling aura. Although Scott never minded it. The wall of his room was almost right up against it after all.

On top of the mountain was a barely visible “castle”, which looked as if it was built by someone wearing a blindfold. The inhabitants of the castle, and the aptly named “Monopoly Mountain” could be accurately described as menaces.

Clumsy when it came to forward thinking, and leaving hidden traps around so frequently that traveling through any wooded area required either a very long stick, or someone willing to take the business end of a TNT trap for the team.

They also happened to be Scott’s nearest allies. It hadn’t always been pleasant between them, but circumstance led to circumstance, and now Scott was making his semi-weekly visit to Monopoly Mountain to shoot the breeze.

Typically the only person at the base would be Grian. Scar liked to make himself elusive by causing problems elsewhere and returning late into the evening with a story to tell over dinner.

The base of the mountain was void of a bubble-elevator. To reach the top one must climb an absurd amount of stairs. Scott huffed and resigned himself to the task in front of him.

As his perspective grew higher and higher the rest of the map revealed itself. The roof of Joel’s house peeked over a swathe of trees, and the tall barricades of Dogwarts stood out as a stark silhouette against the sky. Scott took a few minutes to regain his purchase, shielding his eyes from the whipping wind.

The season was gradually descending into winter. Made obvious by the deciduous trees’ leaves choking out the last of their green pigment for fiery shades of red and orange. The weather was far less pleasant to endure. Everywhere outside of the Red Desert had to deal with bitterly cold conditions, although there hadn’t been snow yet, the sky churned with a constant overcast. Threatening to storm at the drop of a coin.

Scott rubbed his arms to fight off the oncoming chill and continued his ascent, hoping someone had installed a fireplace since the last time he visited.

Finally he rounded the last of the stairs and gazed up at the tall, thin roof of the Sand Castle. The Red Desert flag strung on the tallest rooftop flapped around in the wind. Pizza, the pet lama, grunted in Scott’s direction when he approached the front door. He hesitantly reached out to pet her (she bit him once and he’d never fully gotten over it) from over the fence of her pen, and she let him rub her fluffy bangs.

Scott knocked on the door three times and gave Pizza one last pat, anticipating someone to open the door. It would be a shame if he’d hiked all the way out only for nobody to be home.

Thankfully, the door swung open with a welcoming screech of it’s hinges.

“Hey dude,” Grian welcomed him from the front steps.

“Hey,” Scott greeted in return, “may I come in?” he asked.

“Of course! It’s freezing out here,” Grian replied and stepped away from the door, which slammed with a squeak behind the two of them.

Scott closed his eyes and waved to the resident enderman, who greeted him with a friendly, distorted “hello”. A furnace was running to warm the living room.

Scott took his coat and hat off. He draped them over the arm of the couch before swatting a layer of sand from the cushion and sitting down, observing the scene in front of him. There was always something going on in there.

This time, a myriad of blueprints were strewn across the floor. Each of them depicting heavily annotated structures and what looked like plans for redstone. Grian had planted himself on the floor with a pencil, and was furiously erasing a line of text.

“What’s that?” Scott pointed over his shoulder.

“These,” Grian held one of the outlines up to the other’s face, “are the blueprints for our secret bunker,” he explained.

“You hear that? Secret Bunker, so don’t go telling anyone about it m’kay?” He tapped the paper with the end of his pencil.

“Okay, fair enough. Is that redstone?” Scott slid another sheet of paper towards them with his shoe.

“Yup. I’m gonna equip it with a lava trap,” Grian said proudly.

“And this one will work?” Scott teased.

“Hilarious,” Grian pushed the other’s shoulder, “yes it will work, it’s going to be my best yet,” he assured.

“Oh good! That’s not a very high standard to meet then,” Scott congratulated.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Grian mocked back, “you better be careful what you say with twenty five reputation points,” he said.

Scott threw his hands up in surrender, still laughing at how the other man’s ears turned red.

The house fell into a comfortable silence after that. The sound of scribbling and wind served as a calming ambience. Scott intermittently shared a few words with the enderman, who seemed to understand more of what Scott said to him than the other way around.

“Hey, Grian?” Scott turned over on the couch to face his friend.

“Yeah?” The other said without looking away from his work.

“Do you think you would have still been friends with Scar if he hadn’t died from that creeper?” Scott asked.

There was a pregnant pause, then Grian said, “I don’t know. I never thought about it,” he doodled absently on the margin of his paper.

“Hm,” Scott replied halfheartedly. He mainly asked because whenever he visited Grian was alone. If they were even home at all. Other than that him and Scar were always attached at the hip.

“Why?” Grian asked in return.

“I don’t know, forget it,” Scott waved him off. Not wanting to get into it.

“When’s he gonna be back?” he asked instead.

Grian sat up and stretched his back, “uh, I don’t know actually. He said he went to gather resources but you can never really count on him doing what he says he will,” he explained.

“You didn’t go with him?” Scott asked.

“I don’t want to babysit him anymore. If he gets in trouble that’s not my problem,” Grian said. He stood up and wandered over the the kitchen, carefully avoiding the blueprints on the floor.

“Ha! I would drink to that one, Jimmy is the same way sometimes,” Scott replied and watched as Grian contemplated the contents of their cooler, reaching in and pulling out a bottle of red wine.

“Well then, let’s drink to it,” he held the bottle up with a grin.

“Where did you get that?” Scott vacated the couch and made his way over to his friend, taking the bottle and studying it, “I haven’t seen the fruit of the vine in years!” he recalled.

The bottle had clearly been tapped into before, although not much was absent from its contents.

“I have my ways,” Grian rummaged around in a cabinet and pulled out two glasses.

“I would say it’s too early for this, but for once, it’s five o’clock somewhere,” Scott uncorked the bottle with a satisfying pop and poured each glass a third of the way.

Grian cleared his throat, “To the safety of our stupid partners,” he raised his glass.

Scott nodded in return and connected their drinks with a polite clink, then they drank to the sentiment.

The conversation traveled to the dining table, which was more of a booth. Talking points ranged from preparing for winter to future plans to expand their bases.

“I’m not going to get anything done with the weather coming on,” Scott complained over his drink, “I don’t handle the cold very well,” he downed the last of it.

“Well you can always move in with us for the season, the attic is vacant,” Grian offered.

“Never in a million years. I’d rather be sick at home than spend a week living with barbarians,” Scott refused the offer.

Grian rolled his eyes, “it is not that bad,” he defended himself.

Scott raised an eyebrow and shoved his hand in between the cushions of the booth. Pulling up a handful of sand, which he deposited on the table.

“We live in a desert! What do you want us to do about it, of course there’s some sand in here,” Grian threw his hands up.

“Some?” Scott repeated.

“Okay,” Grian glanced under the table and shuffled his foot around, which scraped across a layer of sand, “a lot of sand,” he corrected himself.

“Get a vacuum. For the hundredth time, get a vacuum,” Scott demanded.

“We have a broom that works perfectly fine,” Grian stood up and opened a linen closet to reveal a single broom leaned up against the wall.

Scott didn’t comment on it, but he had a feeling that broom never left the closet.

The conversation was effectively halted when the front door screeched open, letting in a gust of wind and sand. It blew a few papers off the floor and scattered them around the living area.

“Hey,” Grian called out, “Scar? You back?” he asked.

“Yeah,” came from the front of the Sand Castle.

“Okay! We have company by the way,” Grian prefaced.

Scar’s head poked around the doorframe, he waved at Scott who returned the gesture.

“What have you guys been up to?” He inquired at the sight of the wine on the counter.

“Just hanging out. It gets a bit lonely up here you know,” Grian closed the linen closet and took Scar’s backpack from him. He opened it and looked at the contents.

“Oh, you actually did what you went out to do,” Grian revealed a bundle of wood from the bag.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scar crossed his arms.

“Never mind, go wash up. I assume you’re hungry,” Grian opened a pantry and took some spices out, “are you staying for dinner Scott?” he asked.

Scott leaned out of the booth to check the time on the clock above the door, “mmm, yeah why not. I’m already here,” he decided.

“Let me just page Jimmy and tell him I’m gonna be home late,” Scott patted all his pockets but found no sign of his communication device.

“Hey Grian? Can I use your pager?” he requested.

Grian fished around in his back pockets and pulled out his pager, tossing it towards the other who caught it with both hands. Scott thanked him and flipped the screen up, selected the address he needed to contact, and typed out a short message. Making sure to say it was from him and not Grian before sending it to Jimmy.

“What’re we making?” Scott asked once he finished, intent on trying to help in the kitchen.

“Well, it’s Spaghetti Friday,” Grian declared and revealed a bag of Rigatoni pasta.

“That’s a thing?” Scott inquired, taking the bag and examining the packaging. It was pretty simple, mostly cardboard with a plastic window. Presumably from the village on the other side of the map.

“We’ve gotta have some fun around here, come on now Scott,” Grian said.

“You’re right, how can I help?” Scott said. Grian side eyed him.

“You can add the salt when I say you can add the salt,” he offered. Scott crossed his arms.

He wasn’t that bad at cooking. He’d only burned a few things, smoked the house out for three days once, and set scrambled eggs on fire.

“That one time was just a rookie mistake,” Scott retorted. It’s not like he did it on purpose.

“A rookie mistake that almost burned your flower forest down. I wouldn’t let you near the kitchen if I was Jimmy either,” Grian set a pot down on the stove.

Scar came back in the kitchen then, and was pulled into it almost immediately.

“A man can’t even sit down in his own house without his culinary skills being put up for debate?”

Grian laughed at him, sliding the pot under the water pump.

“That’s not an answer at all! Can you or can’t you?” Scott demanded to know, holding a salt shaker.

“I can cook,” Scar’s gaze wandered into thought, he started counting on his fingers, “pasta, assorted vegetables, mac and cheese, cornbread, mashed potatoes, and I can bake a half decent carrot cake,” he recited.

“I worked in a supermarket before the borders. We made some of our own stuff for the bakery and the buffet,” Scar said. It was the first mention he made of what he did back when things were normal. At least to Scott.

Scott was pleasantly surprised. He nodded, seeing as he’d been given a satisfying answer.

The spaghetti went off without a hitch, Grian was surprisingly good at making it. Scott had the sense that he’d done it many times before.

“Remember, you can put the salt in but you can’t take it out. Here taste the sauce and tell me if it’s alright,” Grian fished a spoon from a drawer and handed it to Scott.

“Hmm,” the other pondered after trying a spoonful, “maybe a bit more salt?” he suggested.

A window was propped open to let the steam and heat out. It was getting dark now, and the world border stood out against the purple hues of night falling over the server. The brightest stars made themselves known to the east as the sun set to the west. It was peaceful, the wind had died down. Scott wondered if anyone else was watching.

Personally, he enjoyed stargazing a lot more. His servermates knew next to nothing about the cosmos, which made him wonder who was teaching them about the greater universe. Clearly they’d never been out there.

“Yo,” Scar called him out of his trance. He handed the other a ceramic bowl.

“Thank you,” Scott said and waited to serve himself.

The spaghetti was pretty good. Decent meals were hard to come by, especially with the limited resources outside of villages.

Over the course of dinner, Scar explained his excursion of the day. He had been gathering wood to stockpile for the winter months (no wood in the desert, better to have a source available and not have to hike out and get more constantly) when he came upon Etho’s base.

“It’s entirely made of wool,” he recounted.

Grian raised an eyebrow in confusion, “All of it? Why?” he mused.

“Dunno. There was nobody around,” Scar replied.

“You didn’t steal from them did you?” Scott interjected.

“Not this time,” he said, which earned him a jab in the ribs from Grian.

The three laughed it off and switched the subject to current server affairs. Who had the best gear, everyone’s respective allies, the phantom problem, and the pros and cons of a vacuum.

“Well, I would say this is a fine work of spaghetti,” Scar complimented when he was finished.

“Indeed, couldn’t have done it without Scott. The best salt dispenser among us,” Grian agreed.

Scott tried to look offended but couldn’t repress a smile. He stood up, about to take his bowl to the sink; but Scar insisted that he was the guest, so he handed over his dish and sat back down. Preparing his “i’m out of here” pleasantries.

He settled on, “Well, I’m out of here,” after a few more minutes of banter.

“Okay! Thanks for keeping me company dude,” Grian gave Scott a hug as thanks.

“My pleasure,” Scott replied.

Scar offered to accompany Scott back to the Hobbit territory, but he refused.

“No need Scar, you’ve been out all day. I’ll be fine,” he assured as he adjusted his hat and jacket for the chilly walk home.

“Alright then, let me walk you out,” Scar proposed instead.

Final waves and good wishes were exchanged and Scott started back down all those stairs. It was quiet, save for the gentle buzz of the world border which sat right against the Red Desert.

Lost in thought for most of the journey, Scott traveled into the dark canopy of leaves. There weren’t many mobs out due to the moon being in its Waning Crescent phase. Scott rubbed his hands together and shoved them in his pockets, wishing he’d brought his mittens.

As he crossed over a clearing, an arrow whizzed over his shoulder. Scott ducked down in surprise, turning around and expecting to see a skeleton, but there was nothing there except a dreadfully dark bank of trees and a vacant plot of land.

Scott squinted into the darkness.

Then the handle of a weapon was brought down on the side of his face, and all the lights went out.

#THAR SHE BLOWS.#Time to get this monster out of my system! This au gave me brainrot.#hahaha! it only gets worse from here #kingslayer au #3rd life smp #3rdlife #3rdlife smp #grian #goodtimeswithscar #scott smajor #mcyt #cas types

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

THE CHRISTMAS GIFT

— AN EXPLORER UNIVERSE DRABBLE :)

SUMMARY So now there’s a present for him under the tree, but none for you. Apparently that’s up to Jungkook to purchase, which leads him to this dilemma: what did you want for Christmas? WARNINGS alien!jk, tentacle mention hehe, and uhhh nothing else its just dorky n sweet :( RATING e for everyone <3 WC 1.2k

NOTES hello the other day i said something abt explorer jk not rlly understanding the concept of gift giving so here it is more in depth <3 just 1k of dorky alien boy trying to impress his human gf !!

Jungkook thinks this Santa Claus fellow is quite possibly the oddest figure on your planet. A man who single handedly visits the home of every single child across the globe on a flying sleigh pulled by flying deer? Ridiculous. It’s even more ridiculous when you honor this man with a plate of cookies in the living room.

“It’s just for fun,” you tell him, wobbling dangerously on a step stool in front of this massive tree you killed and then hauled inside to decorate its rotting carcass. The ornaments aren’t even placed in the most aesthetically pleasing pattern, a fact that greatly displeases Jungkook and his perfectionist mind. (You don’t see his extra arms slip out and rearrange them.) “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

In all his time traveling the galaxy, Jungkook has had the honor of studying many foreign races. He’s learned the intricacies of their societies, the mechanisms of their anatomy, and the beauty of their cultures. Yet he does not recall ever seeing a society where one bearded man— who apparently gorged himself on cookies year round —held such superiority. The concept of gods isn’t exclusive to your planet, but from what Jungkook understands, this Santa Claus fellow is not a god at all.

Oddly uniformed beings aside, there’s another thing Jungkook doesn't quite understand about this celebration, and that’s the bright red box beneath the dead tree with jungkook♡ written on the corner. It’s a gift, that much he gets, but he’s not sure what. Or why. You don’t tell him much either, simply warning him not to touch it until Christmas.

Jokes on you, because Jungkook is no ordinary being. He knows how to gather resources from his surroundings and put them to use, an ability that is very valuable when visiting foreign planets such as your Earth. The projection box plays a variety of movies surrounding this Christmas event in the days leading up to it. It’s a festive day, primarily for large corporations to profit off of holiday cheer and convince people they, for some reason, must participate in the act of gift giving. And the thing about gift giving, Jungkook learns, is that it is reciprocal.

So now there’s a present for him under the tree, but none for you. Apparently that’s up to Jungkook to purchase, which leads him to this dilemma: what did you want for Christmas?

The projection box says Humans similar to you enjoy being presented with jewels and clothing, occasionally electronic devices that are apparently ‘new’ for you Humans.

But the jewels displayed are practically worthless in Jungkook’s eyes— a diamond ring? As far as Jungkook and the rest of the Sixamians were concerned, the sole purpose of a diamond was for recreational sports. Anyone could get a diamond in Sixam, they were as common as the avian beings on your planet were. But you and the rest of the Humans obsess over them, retail them for ridiculously high prices.

Diamonds are out of the running, which leaves Jungkook with clothing or electronic devices. Similar to the diamond dilemma, the electronics don’t convince him much either. Smilodon had gotten into your room one day, completely knocked everything off your desk. While Jungkook had been able to revive your PC box, the cracked screen of your monitor was irreparable. Jungkook’s first trip to the city was that day, your visit to a Best Buy his first real outing. (You had sat him down in the kitchen and dabbed warrior paint, called concealer, over his facial markings.) The complete wonder he felt at seeing the city for the first time was shattered upon entering this Best Buy and seeing the horrendous quality of your electronic advancements.

Needless to say, electronics are also out.

By then, Jungkook can’t even fathom searching for clothing as a present. What did you like? He’s not sure, your preference in clothing varied everyday. Some days you enjoyed being bundled up in thick, cozy sweaters, but at night you would strip down to the thinnest materials. Did you like thick clothing or light? What was the most appropriate clothing for this season? Was there a specific size chart he had to refer to, or did Human clothing abide by the same form configuring rules that Sixamian clothing did?

Christmas is tomorrow and Jungkook has not found a suitable present for you! His head hurts, but more importantly, his heart hurts. The projection box says Humans are greatly dissatisfied when they are forgotten in the gift-giving tradition, and Jungkook does not want that. He wants you to smile at him like the figures on the projection box do— maybe kiss him under the viscum album, or ‘mistletoe,’ plant —and just genuinely enjoy yourself.

Time is running out and Jungkook doesn’t know what to do. Smilodon is giving him a rather disappointed look from the windowsill that Jungkook does not appreciate. It’s as he’s huffily shooing the creature away that he sees it. And by it, Jungkook means the flowerbed on your windowsill. The dirt is cold, the plants practically near death. But Jungkook knows you like flowers, these flowers in particular, because you spent all summer watering them and tending to them. You’re one of the finest botanists Jungkook has ever seen— and that’s saying a lot, considering Jungkook also considers himself an amazing botanist. Surely you like flowers?

He hurriedly gathers the last of the plants, hands shivering from the cold. He isn’t sure how to present them, how to wrap them like the Humans on the projection box do, so he’s left awkwardly hovering by the window with the dead flowers in his hand. He can’t set them down either because then they will unravel from the careful bouquet Jungkook had organized in his haste.

You have extra limbs for a reason, his brain just about screams, and Jungkook snaps into action. Just as the tip of his limb touches your laptop, ready to watch as many instructional videos as possible, you come strolling into the living room.

Jungkook can’t even play it off, he’s got one tentacle stretched over the entire length of the living room.

“What are those for?” you ask curiously, casually stepping over his extended arm on your way over to him.

Jungkook sighs, slowly retracting his limb until he can feel it slide naturally beneath the skin of his back. He wonders if his markings are that shade of pink again, the one that makes you kiss him and coo at him. “Felicitations on your Christmas,” he murmurs, handing you the bouquet of half dead, half frozen flowers. Your mouth forms a little circle, surprise and confusion painting your features. Jungkook hopes you are not as disappointed as he is in his atrocious attempt at gift giving.

But Jungkook should know better; your Human heart is nothing like his. You’re not raised on perfection like he is, don’t even think there is such a thing as ‘the perfect gift.’ The flowers are taken from his trembling hands, clutched to your chest dreamily. “Did you pick these?” you sigh dreamily, gazing down at the dead bouquet like it’s the most beautiful thing in the universe.

Jungkook doesn’t understand. Maybe it’s better this way. “Merry Christmas to you, too,” you beam, on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips. “I love them.”

And he loves you.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fic #mine #explorerdrabs

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tryingmybestpls · 4 years ago

Text

Bath Time

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian watches as the reader gives his foundling a bath (set post Chapter 12).

Word Count: 1.7k

Rating: R

Warnings: slight breeding kink?, mentions of anatomical parts, hint at masturbation

The Mandalorian wished he didn’t enjoy watching her do things like this.

Y/N was carefully giving the little green being a bath in an small metal oblong shaped tub that was purchased for this exact reason. Mando was supposed to be cleaning and polishing his various weapons, but he kept stealing glances at her. There was a smile stretched across his partner's face as the Child splashed around the bubble-filled bath water. His movements were causing Y/N's shirt to become soaked and while Mando would have scolded his foundling before if got to that point, she didn't mind it in the slightest.

When the Child puked up the cookies he had been eating, Y/N became very concerned. As soon as the Crest had evened out, she took the kid into her arms and disappeared down into the hull. When he climbed down under the guise of cleaning his weapons, she almost immediately held her hand out and asked for his cape. Y/N was already scrubbing the turquoise stain out of the Child’s robes. He wanted to tell her that the little stain from cleaning his foundling’s mouth was nothing compared to what else was on his cape, but he knew better then to argue with his companion. The Mandalorian immediately unclipped his cape, having it over. With the Child strapped to her chest, she started to scrub at his cape, the water quickly becoming murky. The scene in front of the Mandalorian is incredibly mundane, but for some reason he finds himself trying to discreetly hide the fact that he is enjoying watching this.

He’s fucked and he knows it completely.

The cape and the Child’s clothes were hanging up to dry in the back of the hull. In all honesty, the Mandalorian probably wouldn’t have cleaned up his foundling as quickly as she did. While he was concerned about the green child’s well-being, she took it to a whole other level. Y/N kept asking the Child if he was feeling well or telling him this is the reason why he isn’t allowed to only eat sweets. Every time the Child made a noise, her eyes would look down to him and her voice would be filled with concern as she asked the green little baby if he was feeling okay. Every time Y/N asked, the Mandalorian would pause what he was doing to look up at the two of them.

"You know the whole point of the bath is to keep the water inside of the tub, kid." Y/N teases as she carefully washes his big ears. There's just something about her being so motherly that the Mandalorian just has to stop what he is doing to watch. She must've tickled the kid with the washcloth, because he erupts into a fit of giggles, which then causes Y/N to laugh. The whole scene makes the Mandalorian feel warm all over.

"Aren't you being awfully sweet today? Maybe being so dirty made you cranky." Y/N continues her one sided conversation as she rinses the soap off carefully. Mando feels like he shouldn't be watching this, but he can't help it. His hands are still moving, cleaning the same blaster he has been cleaning for twenty minutes. He hopes she doesn't notice, but the Mandalorian knows that Y/N won't. She's completely focused on the child.

"Alright, we should get you out of the water before you catch a chill." Y/N grabs a towel before lifting the green child out of the water, carefully wrapping it around him. Mando can hear her humming an unrecognizable song softly as she swaddles his foundling, looking at him almost lovingly. The scene in front of him makes the bounty hunter swallow hard. He cannot understand why Y/N taking care of the Child is affecting him this much-no, that's a lie. The Mandalorian knows why, but he rather not go down that route. He's trying to keep the relationship between him and Y/N professional. Maker, is he trying-

"Mando? Mando, are you listening to me?" Her voice yanks him out of his thoughts and the Mandalorian is incredibly glad she can't see the blush that's most likely on his face. He makes a grunting noise in response-something that he'd use to respond to anyone else. Y/N shakes her head, trying not to smile. The Mandalorian hopes that his companion cannot see the semi that he’s currently sporting.

"I was saying that I'm going to take the kid and feed him in cockpit so you can eat and clean up." She informs the bounty hunter, the bundled Child resting on her hip. That's another thing that's making this whole situation even more difficult: Y/N taking care of Mando himself. When he had hired her on, she was tasked with looking after the foundling and taking care of the ship. Yet for some reason, Y/N also likes to make sure her employer is doing okay. Every time she shows him even the slightest bit of kindness, the Mandalorian suddenly turns into a teenager, his knees getting weak and his stomach twisting and turning. He forced himself to quickly recover.

"You don't have to." He tries to argue, but he knows it's futile. Y/N is already walking over to where the meal rations are stored, grabbing the kid's plate and utensils. She hardly takes no for answer and he really doesn’t want to fight her. The Mandalorian loves it when she takes care of him, when she shows that she cares for him too, but he’d never say it outright.

"I know, but you smell as good as the kid did before his bath." She teases him, full on grinning now as she walks to the ladder. Y/N fucking teases him and Maker, the Mandalorian wants more of it. He's forcing himself not to smile underneath his beskar as she holds the child close to her chest, somehow managing to climb up the ladder. The bounty hunter would love to pretend that he doesn’t sneak a look at her ass as she climbs up ladder, but of course he does, which then causes his flight suit to get even tighter. Maker, pull yourself together.

The Mandalorian waits until she's seated in the pilot's seat before he lets out a sigh, his feet carrying him to the meal rations. He wishes that he could just chalk her kindness as naivety, but it's not that. Y/N only acts this way around the Mandalorian and his foundling. Hell, the bounty hunter has watched her bring a man twice his size down to the ground just because the creature was looking at Y/N funny. That very same woman will walk around the Crest, making repairs with the small green child strapped to her chest, telling the kid a story. Both actions had the Mandalorian thinking about his partner in a way that was far from being appropriate.

Yet, there was just something about watching her taking care of his foundling made the Mandalorian want to grab Y/N and fill her belly with his child. The bounty hunter never had such archaic thoughts before he hired Y/N to watch the Child, but they always pop up whenever she’s around. Once again, the Mandalorian tries to readjust himself, telling himself that he’ll take care of his problem in the ‘fresher.

As the bounty hunter took off his helmet in order to eat, he forced this thoughts far far away from his female companion. The Mandalorian tried to make himself think about what the ship needed or what supplies he had to pick up on their next outing, but somehow his thoughts kept finding their way back to Y/N.

Y/N is humming again when the Mandalorian climbs up the ladder into the cockpit an hour later, his stomach full and just out of the ‘fresher. She's sitting in the pilot's chair-his chair as she holds his foundling. The bounty hunter tries to ignore that as he takes a few more steps, trying to keep his thoughts clean. The Child is fast asleep in her arms. It's like the Galaxy itself is mocking him.

"He likes you, you know." The Mandalorian says quietly, his eyes on sleeping child on her chest. The kid adores her, almost to the point where Mando thinks his own foundling favors Y/N over him, but in all honesty the Mandalorian can't blame the child. It’s extremely hard not to like her. Y/N chuckles softly, the stars streaking across the sky was illuminating both her and the Child.

"I'd hope so. I like him too." Y/N replies, her eyes on Mando as she smiles. There's something about the way she says it makes his heart beat a little faster in his chest. He hates this feeling, hates the way she's making him feel. No-he doesn’t hate it. It’s just different. It’s something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager.

"Thank you-for letting me..." His words trail off. The Mandalorian isn't a man of many words and his companion knows that. Y/N nods, her smile still stretched across her face.

"Someone has to remind you to take care of yourself, Mando." Y/N tells him, her voice soft. Her hand is resting on his foundling's back, holding him to her chest. The Mandalorian's head is full of images of Y/N holding another child to her chest, cradling a different baby while he holds the kid. Mando swallows hard, forcing those images away. He turns his head towards the Galaxy, but he can still feel Y/N's eyes lingering in him for a few seconds before she too turns her head. Out of the corner of the visor, the Mandalorian watches as she looks down at the sleeping child, one of her fingers smoothing the white hairs on top of the kid’s head.

"You should go get some rest. I'm more than comfortable up here with him." She announces, leaning back further into the chair. Once again, it's not really a suggestion and once again, the Mandalorian finds himself trying not to smile under his helmet.

#the mandalorian x r #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin #star wars

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harrysweasleys · 4 years ago

Text

a dream is a wish // f.w

Summary: for @pit-and-the-pen’s writing event!

Reader can’t stand Fred Weasley, but what happens when a dream changes that?

Prompts: “do you have to be that painfully beautiful?” x “well, if you saw yourself how I saw you, could you blame me?”

Warnings: injury, maybe like one swear word?

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: this came out much later than i intended but ah! here it is! enjoy :)

——

It was safe to say you were not a fan of Fred Weasley.

Never have been, and most likely never will be. He was always loud, boisterous, arrogant, annoying, and most of all, found pleasure in disrupting the educational system any chance he could get. I mean, who does that, right?

Whether it be causing distractions with his equally-arrogant twin during class, or setting fireworks and other shenanigans loose in the hallways, you wanted to try and avoid both of them as much as possible.

But, it was Fred that you disliked more. He was the louder one, the one who knew exactly how to get under your skin and piss you off in all the wrong ways. The one that despite how much your friends thought him hilarious and charming, you’d never be able to get on the same page with. What was charming about someone who chose to disrespect all rules and live a carefree lifestyle?

That was not for you.

You were glad, on this day, that you could escape the confining castle walls and the hustle and bustle of the school on the weekend and make off to Hogsmeade with your pals, the cool autumn air a refreshing awakening as soon as you stepped outside. The leaves were changing colours and collecting in piles on the ground, the skies were gloomy and cloudy, and somehow, the smell of cinnamon was always in the air in the small Wizarding village.

“Can we head into Honeydukes’s afterwards?” your fellow Gryffindor, Megan, turned to ask as you guys entered the Three Broomsticks, the tip of her nose looking pink and her cheeks pale. It was rather cold for November.

“Sure thing,” you nodded, smiling in comfort at the familiar cozy atmosphere of the dingy pub. Students all around were crowded around in bundles, drinking hot butterbeer. You couldn’t wait to have one yourself.

Megan led you to the table where Ginny was sitting, a large cup of hot cocoa in her hands as she waved you guys over.

“Been waiting forever,” she grinned, “You guys go order, I’ll save your seats.”

You turned around and headed back towards the bar with Megan, the two of you catching the bartender’s attention and ordering yourselves each a nice hot butterbeer. You hadn’t felt so cold outside, but now that you were in the warmth, you could feel your fingers begin to burn as they thawed.

After a few moments wait, you grabbed the butterbeer mug between your already warm fingers and began to walk back to the table. You had to scooch around other tables and chairs, but eventually, you spotted Ginny’s red hair once more in the same table by the window.

Unfortunately, though, you spotted two other heads of red hair as well. Fred and George were crouched over their younger sister, a large Zonko’s bag on the table as they showed off their latest purchases.

“Bloody fantastic,” you groaned, causing Megan to chuckle as the two of you arrived at the table.

“Well, afternoon, ladies,” Fred grinned, taking his eyes off of his products to look at the two of you, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Is it, though?” you rolled your eyes, sitting down and placing your mug on the table, “This is a school outing. There are students everywhere.”

Fred let out a laugh, “Well, not everyone decides to participate in such festivities.”

You let out a loud sigh and frowned, looking down to your drink to distract yourself from rebutting his comment. George had run off to go see Lee and another group of Gryffindors, so at least that was one down. If only Fred could leave as well.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, you felt Megan kick your leg under the table and so you shot her a look, asking her what was up.

“Well, guess I’ve best be off,” Fred said before she could reply to your glare, “Have a lovely afternoon.” As he passed by you, he placed his hand atop your head, “Especially you.”

“Don’t touch me,” you pulled your head out from under his hand, furrowing your eyebrows and mustering up your best scowl.

“Ah, intimidating,” Fred smirked, “I’m shaking in my bloody shoes.” Ginny and Megan stifled their laughter but you could hear them anyways. They were hardly being subtle.

“Get out of here, Weasley,” you turned way from him and faced your butterbeer once again, trying not to let him get to you. You had to fight a blush at Ginny and Megan’s laughter as Fred walked away, his chuckle fading into the loudness of the pub.

“Anyways,” Ginny grinned, pulling her hand away from her mouth, “Let’s change the subject before Y/N explodes.”

You snapped your head up to face her, your cheeks becoming rather warm, “I’m not going to explode, thank you very much. I just can’t stand your prat brothers.”

Ginny tossed her hair behind her shoulder and leaned forwards on the table, resting against her elbows, “You do a terrific job of hiding it.”

“Sorry, Gin,” you gave her a sheepish grin, “Tell them to stop being assholes. But I can try and be civil.”

Ginny wiggled her eyebrows and her and Megan exchanged a look. You ignored it, knowing they were probably thinking of something that you didn’t even want to know about, and took a long sip of butterbeer, letting the soothing, warm liquid calm you.

After sharing a nice long chat, Ginny having downed two whole hot cocoas, the three of you walked over to Honeyduke’s. The sun was gone and a thick layer of clouds covered the sky.

You really hoped it wouldn’t rain. You were chilly enough as it is. The last thing you wanted was to also be soaking wet.

Ginny held the door open as you and Megan climbed in afterwards, the warmth from the store immediately making a difference.

Megan took off to check out the latest line of sweets, her head disappearing within the busy store. Students were everywhere — eating, chatting, filling up bags of candies for long classes.

You noticed you had also lost Ginny. Where she had gone off to, you had no idea. But you took advantage of the fact that she was gone and made your way to the nearest shelf. It was incredibly tall and stacked with loads of different types of —

“Chocolate, a good choice,” a smooth voice said from behind you, causing you to jump and spin around, ready to knock over whoever had stepped close enough to speak in your ear.

You frowned as you faced Fred’s grinning figure.

“Oh, it’s you,” you rolled your eyes and turned back around, “I’d like to shop in peace. Bye bye.”

To your dismay, Fred pretended not to hear you and came to stand by your side, “As a resident expert on anything sweet — like myself — I recommend these guys.”

Fred reached up and grabbed a chocolate frog, placing it in your hand. You stared down at it, eyebrow cocked. You heard these were quite nice, honestly, but that didn’t mean you wanted to accept one from Fred.

“Why should I trust your opinion?” you glanced back up at him, a blank look on your face.

“Because,” he replied, grabbing another one for himself, “I know my stuff.”

You glared at him before walking away, the chocolate frog still in your hand. You couldn’t reach up to put it back and there was no way in hell you’d ask Fred for help. So, to keep your pride, you’d just buy it.

“I’m just taking this,” you finally arrived at the cash, placing the single chocolate frog down in front of the young cashier.

“And this one,” Fred was somehow still behind you, placing his own chocolate frog down next to yours, “On me.”

“Oh, charming,” you sassed, turning to face him with your arms crossed, “I can afford it myself, you know. I don’t need your help.”

Fred grinned at you as he removed his wallet from his back pocket, paying for the two chocolate frogs, “I know you don’t. I’m just being sweet.”

You ignored the wink he gave you, grabbing your chocolate frog off of the counter and placing it in your coat pocket. The cold outdoor air would prevent it from melting, so you figured it was safe there.

“Well, stop being sweet,” you smiled sarcastically, re-adjusting your scarf and beginning to walk away from him. You heard him call your name, but luckily for you, Ginny and Megan found you before he could. They both had a bag each — how they had managed to each buy their own stash of candies in the short amount of time you had found one chocolate frog, you’ll never know.

“Ready to go, ladies?” Megan asked, grabbing a lolly out of her bag and unwrapping it, sticking it into her mouth as she led the three of you back into the fresh November air.

You sighed as you stepped outside, shoving your hand into your pocket, feeling the chocolate frog box sitting there. You absentmindedly fiddled with it, not even noticing you were doing so.

This would make a lovely midnight snack.

——

You know that saying; when you have a romantic dream about someone, you can’t see them the same way anymore?

Well, you usually didn’t believe that. You thought people just got too attached to their subconscious and wanted to feel things that weren’t there.

You especially didn’t want to believe it when you woke up that morning, last night’s dream crystal clear in your head. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were with anyone else — the idea of cuddling and kissing any other person on the planet would have been fine.

But no, no. Your dream decided to pair you up with the one person you didn’t want.

Fred goddamn Weasley.

It was probably only because you ate the chocolate frog he bought you. So, due to that, he was in your mind. That’s the only reasonable explanation. There was no other reason for such a dream to occur.

You hopped of bed, shaking your head every few minutes to rid yourself of the disgusting images from your head, and rushed down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, Ginny and Megan still sound asleep in their four poster beds. They’d never find out you just dreamt of yourself in a relationship with Ginny’s older brother. They’d never let you live it down.

The Great Hall was silent as you walked in, the candles lit and the tables rather empty. You spotted a few familiar faces at the Gryffindor table, but chose you’d prefer to sit alone and stew in solemn silence.

Why had your mind decided to pair you up with Fred? Why?

As if the Devil himself was playing a game, Fred, George and Lee made their appearance in the Hall doorway with loud laughter. You groaned, letting your hair fall into your face as you poured yourself a cup of tea, wishing more than anything that they wouldn’t spot you.

“Mornin’, Y/N!” Lee sat across from you, a big smile on his face. You couldn’t muster the same expression, your lips curved downwards into a scowl. Of course they’d come sit with you. Everyone else at the Gryffindor table was either a first or second year. Clearly, the universe was testing you.

“Hi, Lee,” you gave a forced smile, taking a sip of your tea and keeping your eyes away from the twins that sat on either side of him.

Although you were fine with George sitting across from you, you couldn’t bring yourself to face Fred. Whether it was due to your dislike of him or the fact that you just had a dream where you had been in love with him, you couldn’t tell. But your heartbeat was starting to quicken — and you were not liking it.

“Awfully silent this morning,” Fred smirked, resting his elbows on the table.

You stood up abruptly, gulping down the last bit of tea in your mug, “Maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh — you wound me,” he placed a hand over his heart, “Are you bothered by me?”

“Well, if you saw yourself how I saw you, could you blame me?” you scoffed, placing your hands on your hips, “My morning was going fine until I saw you. Time for me to leave.”

George and Lee snickered as Fred’s smile faltered, his eyes glued to you as you scurried quickly out of the Great Hall, wishing more than anything that Fred didn’t get you as huffed and flustered as he did.

Damn him.

You couldn’t stand him. Him and his bright hair. Him and his freckled cheeks. Him and his warm eyes.

Yep, the dream didn’t change anything.

——

You were rather glad the sunshine continued to peak throughout the day — especially as you walked down to the Quidditch pitch. Playing in rain and snow was fun, sure, but there was nothing like playing on a clear, fresh day.

“Glad the weather is nice,” Ginny said from next to you as if she were reading your mind, “Should make finding the Snitch easier.”

You grinned, “Always glad when the sun’s out.”

She chuckled and opened the tent flap, letting you head in before her. The rest of the team hadn’t arrived yet which you were thankful for. It would give you time to get changed and mentally prepare before the rowdiness began. You loved most of the team to bits, but they could be quite loud. Especially the one person on the team that you didn’t like.

You seized your Quidditch robes and promptly changed into them, stepping out of the private room and immediately slouching your shoulders.

Your peace and quiet hadn’t lasted long. Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia, Harry and Ginny were huddled together, laughing loudly as they each began to prepare for the game.

“Oh, Y/N, we’re going over today’s plan!” Angelina waved you over, motioning for you to join. You did as the captain said, standing close to Ginny and as far from the grinning twins as you could.

“Now, this one here,” Angelina pointed to a badly drawn diagram on a crumpled piece of parchment, “Is called Bollocks, and it’s when—,”

“Sorry,” George snickered, lifting his hand to cut her off, “You named a play Bollocks?”

“Problem?” Angelina placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow, challenging him, “It was one of Wood’s old plays and might I add, it always worked brilliantly.”

You rolled your eyes at the immature reaction from the twins, wishing they’d pipe down so you could actually focus.

Fred was next to speak, “Course it was Ollie. Lad always had such wonderful names for everything.”

“Excuse me,” you found yourself speaking up, not even sure where your voice came from, “Can you stop being immature for three seconds so we can listen to Angie and maybe win this game?”

Narrowing his eyes at you, Fred scoffed, “And what exactly is it that’s set you off today? Always something, isn’t there?”

You blinked rapidly, “What?”

“You’ve always got something to say,” he continued, “Bit annoying, really.”

The tent was silent, the team stepping back slightly as if trying to avoid being caught in the crossfire. You felt your blood being to boil. Fred had never actually snapped back at you before — and for some reason, you genuinely disliked it.

“I—” your voice trailed off as you realized you didn’t even know what to say. You almost felt bad. Which was rare. You never really felt bad for telling Fred off. He usually always deserved it. Why did you feel that way this time?

“Anyways,” Angelina took her place once more, trying to cut a knife through the palpable awkwardness that was now floating around the tent.

You were still looking at Fred, who was now facing away, his jaw clenched and his cheeks flushed. Never had you seen him this put off.

Angelina continued to explain the game plan, but you were too consumed with unwanted guilt to pay attention to every word. Why had this argument left you with such a bitter feeling? You weren’t normally left feeling sour after any sort of encounter with Fred. Was it because he actually looked upset? Was it because you felt bad? Did it have anything to do with your stupid dream?

No, no. Can’t be the dream. It was just a dream.

She finished up her speech and you took your place behind Alicia, grabbing your broom and ready to make an entrance onto the pitch. But, after your standoff with Fred, all excitement that you previously had was gone. If anything, you would much rather run back to the castle and hide away in your dorm room right about now.

“You alright?” Ginny leaned over, “He’s not actually mad, y’know? Just loses his temper sometimes.”

“I feel bad,” you whispered back, your grip on the broom tightening, “I’ll apologize later.”

Ginny smiled at you, not able to say much more as the lot of you walked out onto the field and came face to face with your opponent. The loud cheers from the crowd helped lift your spirits slightly, but you couldn’t help sneaking another peak at Fred. He was laughing at something Angelina had said, all traces of his previous anger gone.

Maybe Ginny was right, perhaps he wasn’t angry. You felt you needed to apologize anyways, but hopefully it would be forgotten and things could just go back to normal. Whatever normal was.

The whistle blew to signal the beginning of the match, causing you to kick off the ground and take off, ready to bring to life your game plan with your fellow Chasers. You pushed past your bad feelings and focused solely on the match ahead, causing Gryffindor to take an early lead.

Ten minutes in and you were up thirty to zero, two of those goals scored by yours truly. You celebrated both with the rest of the team team, noticing, however, how Fred didn’t come to join both times. He seemed rather thrilled when Alicia scored, though.

Why was this bothering you?

You shook your head and continued the game. Another ten minutes in and Angelina put another one in, leaving you guys up forty to nothing.

You were ready to execute another play — Bollocks, specifically — when you heard your name being shouted.

“Look out!” Ginny’s eyes were wide as she called out to you.

You gave her a puzzled look, ready to turn around and see what she was pointing at, but you didn’t have the chance to do so.

The Bludger knocked into your arm, causing you to completely lose balance and topple off of your broom. Unbearable pain spread throughout your body, the point of contact on your arm throbbing violently as the world around you spun out of focus. The entire audience gasped as you began to plummet towards the ground.

Sixty feet? Seventy, maybe?

You could hear people shouting your name but you couldn’t open your eyes, bracing yourself for impact. Your head felt heavy, your heart skipping beats.

You tried to squint your eyes open, but all you could see was the blue of the sky and something orange and red flash by.

That was the last thing you saw before your vision went dark.

——

The Hospital Wing at night was usually deserted. The moonlight would shine through the windows onto the empty beds and Madam Pomfrey would retire to her room early. But not tonight.

Tonight, they were all gathered around you.

“Are you sure you feel okay?” Megan asked, seated by your side and holding your hand tightly in hers, “It was really scary to see you fall.”

“I’m fine, Meg,” you replied with a low chuckle, your voice coarse from having been asleep — or passed out — for a few hours, “I don’t even remember hitting the ground.”

“That’s because you didn’t hit the ground,” Ginny sat down on the other side of the bed, arms crossed and a light smirk on her lips, “You got saved before you made impact.” She looked tired, but you were incredibly glad she was here.

“She’s right,” Megan piped up, now wearing the same smirk, “Madam Pomfrey say you passed out due to the Bludger impact and the speed in which you feel. Hitting the ground had nothing to do with it because you didn’t hit the ground.”

You looked between the two, your eyebrows furrowed and your mind not fully wrapping around their words. You had to have hit the ground, right?

“How did I not hit the ground?” you coughed slightly as you spoke, reaching over to the small table next to you and grabbing your glass of water, taking a small sip to hopefully soothe your throat.

“Fred caught you,” Ginny replied tentatively.

You spat the water back out, spraying the bedspread and probably Megan and Ginny’s faces as well, “I’m sorry — what?”

Megan answered, wiping at her eye, “Yep. He caught you right as you passed out.”

You stated at them, your eyes feeling as if they were as wide as saucers. There was no way Fred saved you, was there? Was he the flash of red and orange you had seen?

“Why’d he do that?” you asked with interest, placing your glass of water back down to avoid spraying anyone else with your shocked spitting.

Ginny was about to speak, but the doors to the Hospital Wing opened and she muttered a sly, “Ask him yourself.”

You looked over, and sure enough, Fred was walking in. Accompanied by the rest of the team, yes, but your eyes went to him and only him. Clearly, he could sense your stare, as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck once arriving at the foot of your bed.

“You caught me?” you asked, ignoring whatever it was that Angelina had just asked you.

Fred’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink and he shrugged, “Yeah. But it’s not a big deal.”

Angelina pursed her lips from next to you, rolling back and forth on the balls of her feet. The group all shared a look and decided to leave the two of you be, slowly slipping out of the Hospital Wing.

You noticed, yes, but were too busy saying, “Thank you.”

Fred cupped his ear and leaned forwards, a hint of a smirk on his lips as all traces of awkwardness seemed to dissipate, “Sorry, did you just thank me? Blimey, must be the end of times.”

You shot him a look, rolling your eyes and dropping your head back down onto the pillow, “Just accept my thanking and be on your way.”

“I actually brought you something,” he lifted his finger, reaching into the tiny pocket on his chest, pulling out a boxed chocolate frog, “Here. For you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms, “I don’t trust it. It’s coming from you.”

“I promise, I didn’t do anything to it. And the other one I gave you was fine, wasn’t it?” he smiled, walking over to the side of the bed to sit on the chair, still holding out the small box. His smile was genuine — but he still had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Fine,” you snatched it from him, “I’ll trust you just this once. Because I’m hungry..”

“I got it from Honeydukes yesterday,” he said, leaning back in the chair and lifting his legs, resting his feet atop your bed. You glared at them as you popped the chocolate into your mouth, letting the sweetness soothe you.

“See?” he smirked, raising an eyebrow, “You can trust me.”

You looked over at him, taking in his relaxed, causal state and the bright look in his eyes. You had always seen him looking as if he were hiding a dragon in his trousers — you couldn’t remember a time you’d seen him so casual.

His red striped shirt brought out the warm colours on his face. He looked effortlessly charming. It was annoying, really.

“I guess I can,” you smiled back, no hint of hostility in your voice, “Thank you.”

He took his feet off of your bed and pretended to bow, “You are infinitely welcome.” You chuckled, shaking your head and turning away from him, continuing to suck on the candy. It was changing flavours the longer it was in your mouth; it was beginning to taste like lemon.

“I can bring you some more tomorrow,” he grinned, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets, “I need to meet up with George. Do you have a candy preference?”

You blinked up at him, “You’re coming back tomorrow?”

He shrugged before nodding, “Might as well. Gotta come see my favorite grouch.”

“Oh, shove off,” you scoffed, dropping your head. For some reason, him saying he was coming to see you tomorrow sent your heart into a jolt. You tried your best to brush it off, but as you glanced back up at him, the same thing happened. You suddenly felt awfully giddy.

“What kind of candy do you like?” he asked again, giving you a more serious look, “It’s the least I could do for not knocking the Bludger fast enough.”

You placed a finger to your chin and tapped, pondering over his question, “I like chocolate. But you already know that.”

He nodded curtly, taking a dramatic bow, “Chocolate it is.” You couldn’t hold back a laugh, covering your mouth and tossing your head back. Fred chuckled too, beginning to make his way towards the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he gave you a little wave, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, you git,” you replied with a grin, laughing slightly as you watched his lips curve upwards before he stepped outside of the Hospital Wing, closing the door quietly behind him.

Your smile fell as he left, bringing up the blanket to wrap around you, suddenly very aware of how alone you were in the room. Apart from Madam Pomfrey — who was reading a rather large book on the other side of the room. The silence was unnerving and you decided to just sleep it off.

You shut your eyes and let yourself fall into a deep, deep sleep.

——

“You’re joking!” you said through a mouthful of chocolate, your eyes wide.

“Nope,” Fred grinned, “Not joking.”

“How could you do that? You traumatized poor Ron for life,” you said, finally swallowing the chocolate in your mouth so you could breathe through your laughter.

Fred shrugged, “He deserved it.”

You shot him a look, “He was six. I hardly believe he deserved it.” Popping another bit of chocolate frog into your mouth, you raised your eyebrows as if challenging him.

He let out a low chuckle before taking a bite of his own chocolate frog. True to his word, Fred had shown up that evening with a bag of Honeyduke’s sweets, splitting them into piles between the two of you. Madam Pomfrey was not exactly overjoyed by his appearance — considering his appearance came with noise and food — but she told him he was allowed in for two hours.

You were being discharged tomorrow, anyways. There was no use moping and sulking about with only one day left here. Classes would resume and things would go back to normal.

“You have chocolate on your nose,” he pointed to his own nose as he spoke. You flushed, quickly raising your hand to try and wipe it off.

“You missed,” he smirked, sitting up and leaning forwards, reaching his hand out to touch your nose. As he made contact, you cheeks became incredibly warm. You tried your best to brush it off, but as you looked up into his warm eyes, you couldn’t help it. He was gazing down at you, fingers trailing from your nose down to your jaw before he retracted his hand.

You let out a small cough, purposefully ruining the moment, “What are you looking at?”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s just — do you have to be so painfully beautiful?”

Although you were neither eating, nor drinking, you felt yourself choking on air. You averted your eyes away from him, looking at the ground for a good moment as your head wrapped around what he just said.

“Right,” you scoffed, cheeks burning, “I think you’re the one who hit your head.”

He let out an awkward chuckle as he leaned back in his chair, “Deny the compliment all you want. Doesn’t make it any less true, y’know.”

Why was Fred making you feel like this? Obnoxious, loud, arrogant, cocky Fred Weasley. Cute, charming, funny — no.

You couldn’t think of him that way. You had practically sworn to yourself that you’d never end up liking him. You couldn’t just change your morals now. Who does that?

“Thanks,” you muttered, fidgeting with your fingers under the blanket. You didn’t know what to say, you could barely muster the word ‘thanks’ in the first place.

It was odd. Just yesterday, you had snapped at him for being childish. For making a joke. But now, only a day later, you were here. Fighting back a grin and a blush at his compliment as he smirked over, clearly pleased by your reaction as he bit into another sweet.

Considering Fred hadn’t seemed to be your biggest fan either, you wondered why he suddenly felt open enough, confident enough, to compliment you so casually. What had changed? Why were the two of you so relaxed around each other?

Too swarmed with your own confusing thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed the two hours fly by. Fred left not long after, a smile on his face as he left his pile of candies behind for you.

Candies. That’s what was to blame. The sugar. That’s why your heart was violently beating against your ribcage, why your mind was fuzzy, why you had the urge to ask Fred to stay.

The candies were to blame. That’s the only reasonable explanation.

It had to be the candies.

——

The next few days went by in a blur. You were feeling back to normal, which you were awfully thankful for. Madam Pomfrey had fixed you up in a jiffy and sent you on you way after two days in the Wing being monitored closely under her watchful eye. She wasn’t impressed with how many chocolate frogs you had managed to eat, but she was glad you were healed and ready to take on the world again.

Ginny and Megan were glad to have you back — girls night just wasn’t the same without you, they said. And you were glad to see them again too. Although it was only two nights away, you had missed their company.

However, as glad as you were to no longer be confined to your tiny single bed, you felt as if you were missing something. You knew deep down you were missing Fred’s presence —even though you tried to deny it to yourself. He had been nice company while you were being healed and you kind of wished you could get some more alone time with him.

You had seen him around, sure. He was always there during meals and you’d come across him in the common room. Each time he’d send a smile your way and if you were lucky, he’d strike up a quick conversation after asking how you were feeling.

As much as you hated to admit it, you found yourself looking for him when he wasn’t around. You found yourself looking over anytime someone entered the room, hoping it would be him. You’d scan the hallways looking for his bright red hair —

“Looking for me?” a voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

Rather ironic, you thought as you looked up into Fred’s eyes, his head peeking over yours as you sat down for dinner.

“You wish,” you scoffed, fighting a blush that would give away the fact that yes, indeed, you were thinking of him. He didn’t need to know that, though. Would only boost his huge ego and no one wanted that.

“I always wish that,” he smirked as he sat down to your right. Oh, how you wished Fred was a lot less charming than he was. Damn him.

You reached across and grabbed some food, piling it onto your plate without another word. You could feel Fred’s eyes staring at you, your whole body felt like it was burning under his eyes.

“Stop staring,” you turned to face him with your eyebrow raised.

“Sorry,” he raised his hands, “Hard not to.”

You wanted to retaliate, but your voice was lost under Lee and Ginny giggling across from you. When had they even come in? Were they here the whole time? And why wasn’t George with Fred?

“Young love,” Lee clasped his hands and sighed, looking over to Ginny, “When will these two realize their feelings, Ginerva?”

Ginny batted her eyelashes in an equally dramatic manner, “Oh, I don’t know, Lee. Maybe they just need a push.”

Both you and Fred were glaring daggers at them. You hoped the stare you were giving Ginny would cause her to drop the subject, but clearly, it only egged her on. She sent you a wink, laughing as un-subtly as possible.

“Oi, no one asked for the two of you to pipe in,” Fred shot a look at Lee, also hoping to silencing his friend, his cheeks tinted with pink.

You looked away from Ginny, picking at your plate, embarrassed by the obvious attempt to get you and Fred to talk. Would you two even be compatible?

Would the two of you be a good couple?

“I think we would,” Fred grinned, nudging you in the side.

You turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed, “We would what?”

“You asked if we would be a good couple,” his grin was taunting, his eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

“Did I — Melin, did I ask that aloud?” you asked, horrified and humiliated. There was no fighting the blush on your cheeks now. Oh, how you wished you could climb into a hole and completely disappear.

“You did,” Fred scooted closer to you, “And might I add, it was rather cute. We would make an excellent couple, Y/N. You already love telling me off.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that, completely and utterly shocked that your mouth had the audacity to voice your thoughts without your permission. Why? Why did this have to happen to you?

Fred, noticing that you weren’t going to speak, decided to take initiative, “Well, since that’s all in the open, would you like to accompany me to Hogsmeade next weekend? As a date.”

You looked up to him, the blush now gone as your face lost colour, completely caught off guard. Fred was blunt, yes, but you didn’t think he’d actually ask you out. You figured this weird thing going on between you two was just due both of you feeling guilty? Was this even real?

Did you ever think you’d want to go on a date with Fred Weasley? Bloody hell, no. But now, did you want to go on a date with him? Of course you did.

“I’d love to,” you replied quietly, not even sure you had said the words.

Fred’s beaming smile alerted you that he had heard you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and brought you close to him, but you were too starstruck by the idea of going on a date with him to retaliate.

He was warm, comforting, and you really did enjoy it.

“Go team,” Ginny grinned, fist-bumping an equally pleased looking Lee.

Fred leaned over with a wide smile and whispered in your ear, “Remember when you hated me?”

You scoffed, pulling away as a smile played at your lips, “Shove off, you git.”

—

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abbysfrenchbraid · 4 years ago

Text

Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 8

Masterlist

In this chapter, the reader learns more about Viking traditions, tries to talk to Eda again and finally becomes a member of the clan.

CW for food/alcohol, nudity, death mention, men giving unsolicited hugs (yikes)

Inspo Pic by @classicnovaproductions

Stand by Me

While Eivor got dressed for the day, you stacked some more wood in the fireplace to make sure you and Birna would be warm. Holding up the bloody tunic, you told Eivor that you would try to save it but could not make any promises. You took the opportunity to ask her if you could by any chance have more clothes, maybe a dress or a warm shirt and pants. She was terribly sorry she had not thought of it earlier and suggested going to the village’s merchant right away to get you some appropriate clothes for your ceremony tonight.

You wrapped yourself in your fur coat, then you had some more bread and Eivor reluctantly drank some of Valka’s bitter brew before heading out together. The merchant had set up camp down by the water and the sun was peeking through the clouds, lifting your spirits on the way down the hill. As you passed the longhouse, you heard someone yell Eivor’s name.

Randvi came rushing toward you, her hair unusually untamed and her face red from agitation. Eivor instinctively stepped in front of you, shielding you from whatever might come. Randvi stopped a few feet in front of you and put her hands on her hips.

“Y/N, I think I need your help.”

You were surprised but pleased to be seen at eye level by her. You nodded and Eivor stepped back next to you, crossing her arms and waiting for Randvi to explain.

“It’s about Eda. She is refusing to eat or drink again. I fear she will not live to see another night. I have spent hours with her, trying to get her to understand why all this had to happen and why she still has a chance at a good life if she just finds acceptance within herself. She will not listen.”

Damn it. With everything going on, you had completely forgotten about your friend that was still sitting in her cell. Randvi looked seriously concerned and you could tell it was serious. It also made you realize how you had seen that none of the Vikings really wanted to harm innocents, they would fight anyone who raised arms against them but you had gone with them freely and they honored that. Randvi did not want to be responsible for the death of an innocent woman, she wanted to give her a new life here.

You nodded.

“I will speak to her, but I cannot promise that she will listen. Last time she would not even look at me.”

Eivor laid a hand between your shoulder blades and turned to you.

“Do you want to do this now or after? I can wait.”

You thought about it for a moment, then you decided to give Eda some time to think after her conversation with Randvi. You would get your new clothes first, then you would go to the longhouse and sit down with Eda. Randvi thanked you sincerely, then she left without a word toward Eivor. She did not seem hostile in any way, but rather respectful and distanced.

Eivor seemed to have noticed the same and was deep in thought as you made your way to the merchant’s tent. He greeted you with enthusiasm, explaining that he had already heard much about you and that he had the perfect clothes already picked out for your ceremony tonight.

He turned to the table where he had already laid out some things for you. He picked up a beautiful linen underdress for you to see. It had long sleeves and would fully cover your legs. The fabric was dyed a blue color, like Forget-Me-Nots in spring. The second dress he proposed to wear over the first one was shorter, only reaching the top of your knees, and would be held up by two straps that were secured with golden buttons on the front. It was a pale blue, like the morning sky, and there were tiny white flowers stitched into the fabric at the chest.

Eivor explained to you that this was traditional Viking clothing. Women would wear a long under-dress and a shorter woolen hangerock or apron over it which could be embroidered or embellished with shells, gemstones, or other ornaments if the woman wearing it could afford it. Brooches could also be used to fasten the clothes to each other or to pin jewelry on them. The merchant had picked out two golden brooches with ravens on them. Three lines of red and blue glass beads were strung up between them. They were beautiful.

Eivor and Randvi wore men's clothes because they had become drengrs at a young age and of course, dresses were extremely hindering in fights. Women were generally not allowed to wear men's attire, but for anyone involved in fighting or hunting it was best to wear protective and advantageous clothing. Part of you suddenly longed to see Eivor in a dress, her hair flowing freely and adorned with flowers, her body decorated with jewelry and beautifully colored fabrics.

Meanwhile, your drengr seemed to think of the opposite. She was browsing through some furs and thick woolen pants, testing a leather sheath for a dagger and inspecting a pair of boots.

“I wonder if I will get to see you in clothes like these one day,” she said, turning to you. Her remark caught you off guard. Had Eivor pictured you as a warrior in the same moment you had imagined her in traditional women’s attire? You thought back to Valka’s predictions for your future and had to smile at the unsuspecting woman in front of you.

“Maybe you will. Would you teach me how to fight?”

“Would you like to learn?” Eivor gave you a surprised but appraising look, her eyes beginning to glow with a deep passion.

The merchant cleared his throat behind you, probably worried about losing your interest in his precious goods. You turned around and gave him a disarming smile. He took a step back and lowered his head respectfully.

“Yes, Eivor, I do,” you answered without looking back at her. “When can we start?”

Eivor not only bought you the dresses and jewelry without question, but she also picked out grey linen trousers with straps at the bottom that would prevent the leg from sliding up in the snow, a woolen kyrtill, a thick overtunic that would keep you warm in the cold days to come, and a belt with several pouches to carry your belongings as none of the clothes had pockets.

She did not even flinch when the merchant named his price and paid in silver coins. He wrapped all your new purchases into a large cloth made of rough linen and Eivor took the bundle and swung it over her shoulder.

You thanked her several times, overwhelmed by her generosity, but she just shook her head and told you that you deserved this and that she would gladly spend all she had on you. She promised to bring the clothes for the ceremony to Valka and suggested you go straight there after speaking to Eda so the healer could prepare you for everything that was going to happen.

As soon as you entered the longhouse, Randvi was with you and gave you a bowl of steaming hot beef stew with potatoes, beans, and two thick slices of bread. She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead and sighed.

“In the last few days, I’ve visited her more than a dozen times offering her food and promising whatever she wanted if she only decided to stop fighting me. The other two men that were still with her left the cell yesterday, they’re with our boatbuilder now. From what I have gathered, she usually is a very upright, smart woman, but she is also extremely hard-headed and will not let go of the things she puts her mind to, even if it destroys her.” That sounded very familiar. You wondered if Randvi had noticed she was describing herself.

“If you can find it in you to save this woman, I would be in your debt. I cannot let her perish in my care, her life is worth too much to sacrifice it like this, for nothing.”

She gave you a solemn nod and vanished into the map room. You took a deep breath, then you went toward the back of the hall and into the side room in which the wooden cage was now empty but for a single bundle in a corner.

Eda’s eyes were glazed and she seemed to be somewhere else in thought. Her body had dwindled into nothing but a fragile skeleton and her face was white, almost grey. Dag got up to open the door for you, but you shook your head. You went around the cell and reached your arm through the wooden bars to place the bowl next to Eda, then you sat down with your back to hers. She did not react.

You sat in silence for a while, then you pulled your knees up to your chest and decided to try your luck.

“Eda. I have known you since the day you were born. We grew up together, we had fun, went on adventures, and learned our lessons. One thing I always admired you for is your strong sense of right and wrong. Remember when you accidentally chased one of the dogs off the edge of the hill and he broke his leg and had to be put down? You told your father the same night that it had been your fault. He raved and screamed bloody murder, but you just stood there, stone still and silent, and waited until the storm had passed.”

You had been there that night, pressed into the corner in fear as William had thrown candles and trinkets around the room, spilling hot wax everywhere and ruining one of the expensive oriental armchairs. Eda’s strength and courage had seemed unmatchable back then and it still did now, looking back at the scrawny girl with the messy braid standing in front of her father like a pillar of salt.

“I know that what happened to your family was cruel and your mother’s death was wrong, it was horribly wrong.” A tear rolled down your cheek as you said a silent prayer for the salvation of your poor, tortured mistress.

“But it happened and there is nothing we can do about it. The storm has already passed, there is nothing left to wait for. No one is threatening you, no one is trying to hurt you. And none of this was your fault. But Eda, if you starve yourself to death now, if you leave this world” - you could not suppress a sob rising from your chest and pressed your palm to your mouth before taking another deep breath - “if you leave me, I will blame you. I will blame you for giving up, for not fighting for a better life. Your father did terrible things in his lifetime, and he paid for them. You have done nothing wrong, you do not deserve to sit here and waste away.”

You could hear Eda’s shaky breath behind you. She was silently crying.

“Please choose to do the right thing. For me, for your mother, for Delia. You have an opportunity for a life with respect and purpose here, one without serving as an instrument for your father’s plots and schemes. You can be free. You can still live by my side. Please, Eda, please choose to be free.”

You buried your face in your crossed arms and let your tears flow freely. This could not be the end of her life. What a terrible waste that would be.

As you turned your head slightly, you saw that there was only one piece of bread left in the bowl. Hope immediately started burning inside of you. She was listening. She had not said anything to spite you this time. You leaned your head back against the bars and waited. After what felt like hours, you could hear the spoon scrape against the wooden bowl.

“Thank you,” you whispered, filled with deep gratitude and hope for a future for your friendship. The bowl suddenly appeared next to you, held by a slender white hand. As you took it from her, your fingers touched for a second and Eda did not pull away.

You turned around to her, crouched on the balls of your feet.

“Can I bring you anything else?” There was a moment of silence, then a weak, raspy voice answered.

“The auburn-haired woman. Randvi. She really tried to help me. Can you send her to me? I need to speak to her.”

Relief washed over you. Did this mean Eda wanted to leave her cell and join you?

“I will let her know right away.”

You rushed to the map room where you found Sigurd and Randvi quietly discussing something. They were standing behind the big table, both with their arms crossed and faces filled with frustration and hopelessness. You knocked on the wooden archway to make your presence known and they immediately separated, putting the length of the table between them. Randvi gave you a hopeful look.

“Did you have any luck?”

You held out the empty bowl.

“She wants to speak with you.”

Randvi gave Sigurd a cold look, then she nodded and came to you, taking the bowl from your hands and calling out to Sfáva, giving her instructions in Norwegian while she rushed off.

You were about to turn away and leave for Valka’s hut when Sigurd said your name, stopping you in your tracks. You bowed your head to him and stepped closer.

“I take it you have not changed your mind? You will join our clan tonight?” He was watching you closely, his eyes squinted in contemplation.

“Yes, Milord. I have chosen to stay at Eivor’s side.”

His eyes showed a hint of realization, then he smiled and nodded.

“I see. My sister will take good care of you. Your three companions have also chosen to stay with us. They will partake in their own welcoming rite right after your ceremony.”

This news filled you with joy. You had known them for a long time and you were glad to have them by your side at this important moment of your life and in the days to come. You thanked Sigurd for his hospitality and generosity, then you excused yourself and finally made your way up the hill to the little cottage at the edge of the woods.

The sun was setting earlier these days and it had already said its goodbyes for today, letting the colors around you fade to pale grey. You shivered and pulled your coat more tightly around your body. Smoke was rising from Valka’s chimney and warm golden light was welcoming you from the windows.

You heard singing when you stepped up to the door. It stopped abruptly when you knocked, then Valka opened the door and gave you a loving smile.

“Come in, little bird, I’ve been waiting for you!”

She grabbed you by your upper arms and steered you to a chair, kicking the door shut behind her. She had lit dozens of candles around the room and the pleasant smell of incense filled your nostrils as you looked around. Valka had dressed up for the occasion. She wore several layers of fabric and fur, accompanied by a great number of beads and brooches, chains, and pendants on leather strings.

Her face was painted with intricate detail, black paint forming runes and patterns on her cheeks and forehead. She gave you a jug of hot tea and opened the bundle of clothes Eivor had dropped off earlier, immediately calling out in joy at the fine quality and beautiful colors.

“You are going to make a wonderful Raven. Strong-willed and sweet-tempered, generous and empathetic, giving and driven at the same time. You and Eivor will be unstoppable.”

She asked you to stand up and gently lifted your tunic over your head, then she motioned to the back of the room in which a wooden tub filled with steaming water and dried flowers stood waiting for you.

“For me?” You could hardly believe your luck. When had you last bathed? It seemed years away.

Valka sang for you while you soaked in the hot bath, then she used a soft cloth to clean your body before washing your hair with pine soap and combing it thoroughly until it was free of tangles and knots.

You lost all reservations with her, gladly standing naked in the middle of the warm, cozy room while Valka rubbed scented oils into your legs and arms before drawing sigils on your palms and feet with a red oil mixture. She also drew a straight line down your spine and a rune on each of your shoulder blades. When the mixture had sat on your skin long enough to stain it, she wiped it off with a warm, wet cloth, leaving behind reddish-brown marks.

While she helped you dress, she explained that it was not necessary for everyone to undergo these rites before being welcomed into a clan, but because she had seen your future and because you would not only be a servant to the clan but Eivor’s right hand, she had asked Sigurd to do this her way. You were extremely grateful for her, not only because you were clean and smelled good for the first time in forever, but also because she helped to calm you down; she let you breathe and be present in the moment.

Your hair was still slightly damp when you were fully robed and decorated with your new brooches. Valka gently ran her fingers over your scalp, massaging a small amount of oil into your roots and smoothing out your hair so she could braid it. She parted it in the middle, then she braided it backward on either side, only taking small strands from the top of your head and along your temple so the rest of your hair could fall freely. This way, it could not disturb your face, but instead hung down your back, long and shiny.

Finally, Valka rubbed a red powder mixed with a drop of oil into your cheeks and dabbed it on your lips. She stepped back to take in her work and nodded with deep satisfaction.

“You look beautiful, fairer than the dawn, and graceful as a dove.” You could swear that there was a twinkle in her eye. How did she come to know those things?

There was a knock at the door and Valka’s smile grew wider.

“Come in, Eivor!”

The blonde warrior entered with snow in her hair and a confused look on her face.

“How did you know it-” She froze when she saw you, her mouth hanging open in awe.

You felt strange, as if you were suddenly a different person than you had been the last few days. You lowered your head to look at your clean, soft hands, then you gazed up at Eivor through your eyelashes. She looked like she did not know where to put her hands and finally resorted to pressing them to her chest. Valka seemed greatly amused.

“Y/N, you look…” Eivor nervously ran her fingers through her hair. “You look wonderful. People won’t recognize you.”

You did a little curtsey, partly serious, partly just to provoke a reaction from your drengr who still looked like she had been struck by thunder. Without even thinking or hesitating, Eivor bowed deeply before you. Valka was stifling a laugh.

“Shall we, ladies?” The seeress motioned to the door and you picked up your coat from her bed. Eivor was next to you in a heartbeat, taking your coat from you and holding it open for you to slip in. Valka blew out most of the candles and let you both pass her, then she stepped out into the night behind you and closed the door. Thick snowflakes were dancing through the air and you could hardly see the rest of the village. Luckily, a few torches were lit along the path.

You walked in silence, each preoccupied with her own thoughts. You passed Eivor’s hut and asked her whether Birna was safe inside. Eivor assured you that the cat had a whole bed, a fireplace, and some fresh meat all to herself. You were just about to joke about Birna being the queen of this village when you lost your footing in the thin layer of fresh snow.

You were sure you were going to land on the hard frozen ground and have to suffer through the ceremony with a wet behind, but Eivor caught your arm just in time and pulled you up with an iron grip. She held you upright with both hands until you completely regained your balance.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, sounding seriously concerned.

“Not at all, thanks to you.” You sighed and wiped your damp hands on your dress. “I will be more careful where I step now.”

You made it to the longhouse in one piece. Two warriors stood at the entrance and welcomed you with respectful nods. You entered first, Valka and Eivor walked behind you side by side. Most conversations slowly came to a halt as people started noticing you and you instinctively straightened up, glad to have two more strong women behind you.

Sigurd and Randvi sat at the high table, both raising their heads at the same time to look at you and going through the same expression of wonder, realization, and astonishment. You heard someone beside you mumble the words “a queen,” someone else spoke of a “wife” which you hoped was merely a wish and not of any concern in your near future.

Aelfric, Hal, and Lewin were standing next to a column in front of Sigurd’s table. They were wearing colorful tunics and woolen trousers and their hair and beards were also washed and freshly trimmed. Someone in the back whistled and you turned your head to see Norvid, the man who had called you “Milady” at the feast last night.

After your long walk through the middle of the hall, you finally reached Sigurd’s table. You did another curtsey and bowed your head before Sigurd and Randvi. Eivor stepped next to you, squeezed your shoulder, and gave you a last encouraging smile before rounding the table and sitting down next to her brother. Valka passed you and greeted Sigurd before announcing that everything was prepared for the ceremony. He thanked her with a generous nod and she took your hand and pulled you with her to the other three that were waiting.

Sigurd stood up and everyone turned to listen to him.

“Welcome, Ravenclan and friends, travelers, and merchants. Welcome to those who have decided to join us today.” He nodded in your direction. “It is a great honor to see people value our clan so much that they choose to live with us, strengthen our ranks, teach us new ways, and make Ravensthorpe a better place. I recognize you, Aelfric and Hal, Lewin, and Y/N, as equals tonight. As requested by our dear healer and seeress Valka, we shall begin with you, Y/N.” He rounded the table to stand in front of it, then he raised his hand and gestured for you to stand before him.

A young woman placed a pillow on the floor in front of Sigurd and Valka led you to kneel there, standing side by side with Sigurd and facing you. The seeress took a small tin from a pouch on her belt and dipped her fingers in it. It was a thick reddish-brown mixture, similar to the one she had used to paint your skin earlier.

Sigurd spoke again, his voice suddenly changing from his hard, brusk English with the strong Norwegian accent to his mother tongue, foreign and melodic. He almost sang the words, and even though you did not understand a single word, it felt like his voice was completely surrounding and encasing you, changing something deep within you and opening up your mind for the things that were to come.

After a while, Sigurd stepped back and Valka took over. She was now actually singing, her loud and clear voice filling the room as she walked around you and sang to the bystanders who joined in with cheers and sounds of agreement. You had to hold out your hands to show the sigils on your palms and Sigurd accepted them with another verse, then you turned your hands and Valka drew new sigils on the backs.

As you looked up at Eivor, you stopped breathing. She had a wonderful glow about her, charged from the inside with a flame burning so bright you could see it shining from her eyes, warming you through her gaze. Her face was smooth and carried an expression of complete, utter serenity and happiness. She drew her thumb over her bottom lip, then she gave you the most beautiful, genuine smile you had ever seen on her.

You, too, had to smile and lowered your head again as Valka began to sing louder, holding both her hands over your head and the people around you began singing with her. They knew the words well and you even heard a few of them sing harmonies to the prime melody. The longhouse was filled with the beautiful sound of their voices, with smoke and incense, with clapping and laughter and happiness.

Valka took your hands and helped you up, then she kissed you on both cheeks and beamed at you.

“Welcome to the Ravenclan, Y/N. May you light our path with your grace and radiance.”

Everyone cheered and raised their horns and jugs to you, then you stepped forward to shake Sigurd’s hand. Randvi now also came around the table, a wooden bangle with intricate golden engravings in her hands. She gave you a warm smile and an almost unnoticeable nod. You both knew and recognized your places here now, your roles in relation to Eivor.

“Welcome, Y/N, to our clan. From now on you will be under our protection and responsibility.” She slipped the ring over your hand and further up until it fit perfectly around your arm just above your elbow. You could feel its warmth through the fabric of your dress; Randvi must have held it in her hands for some time. She stepped back and stood proudly next to Sigurd as everyone cheered for you once again.

You moved to the side, leaning against a column and catching your breath as your three friends stepped in front of Sigurd and Randvi. While Sigurd and Valka started singing together this time and Valka painted the backs of their hands with her red paste, you let your eyes wander around the room. You were surprised by a familiar face in the back of the hall.

Eda sat at the end of one of the long tables, still looking frail and small, but there was a rosy tint to her cheeks and her hands held a jug of steaming hot mead. She gave you a shy smile. You smiled back, eternally grateful to see her in better spirits and no longer on the floor of that terrible cell. She must have come to an agreement with Randvi to live in the settlement, no longer as a prisoner but a guest. You doubted she would actually join the clan soon, but you were glad she was no longer hostile toward the idea of living here.

When everyone joined into the last song that they had already sung at the end of your ceremony, you watched Eivor. She sang too, her clear baritone making its way through the room to caress your ears and your mind. There was a new spark inside you, curiosity and a great thirst for knowledge about your clan. You wanted to learn their language and their songs, their customs and stories, you wanted to know more about Eivor and her home in the north, about her childhood and her way to becoming the drengr she was now.

Aelfric, Hal, and Lewin received their wooden bangles. The two stable men’s arm rings were made of dark wood with runes burned into the smooth surface. Lewin’s was covered in some sort of resin, maybe to protect it from any fluids and stains that could appear during his work as a butcher.

A boy brought four drinking horns filled with ale and Sigurd waved to you over so you would take one of them, your friends doing the same. Everyone raised their drinks and for the first time, you joined into the loud, unison “Skal!”

After everyone had drunk to your health, Sigurd raised a hand and announced: “Now that we have congratulated our four new members into the clan, let us feast, let us drink and share joy and love in the spirit of new beginnings. May we warm this cold winter night with our hearts and spirits!”

With Randvi at his arm, he returned to his seat and patted Eivor’s shoulder while everyone else got settled at the tables and started passing around bread, cheese, and meat. Your friends were marveling at their new jewelry, but you only had eyes for your drengr . She noticed you staring right away and excused herself from her table, rushing in your direction and meeting you at the side of the hall, under the columns and slightly less out in the open than where you had stood before.

She wrapped you in her arms, picked you up and whirled you around, beaming up at you with eyes full of joy.

“My precious dove, my beautiful lady - now you are finally, truly at my side. You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

She gently put you down and left her hands resting on your waist. You could feel a few people staring at you, but you did not care and pulled her into another embrace.

“Thank you for everything, Eivor. You freed me,” you whispered into her ear. “I belong at your side, we both know that. We are meant to be.”

You took a small step back to look at her, your heart swelling in your chest. Oh, how you wanted to kiss her. You wanted to jump into her arms and let her carry you wherever she wanted and do whatever she liked to you. You were hers. You leaned in closer, her breath going faster as your gaze wandered to her lips.

A hand on your shoulder suddenly tore you from your trance. You whirled around to see Norvid, grinning widely and opening his arms for you.

“Y/N! Welcome to the Ravenclan, beautiful young lady!”

Before you had any chance to resist, he closed you in his arms and pressed your body tightly to his. You were completely overwhelmed by the touch of this stranger, hanging limply in his arms and wondering how you would get out of this with a shred of dignity left.

Eivor made that decision for you. She stepped next to him, grabbed his hand and pressed her fingers into the soft spot between his thumb and digit, making him cry out in pain. In one swift motion, she had pulled his arms from your waist and pulled him back with a hand in his hair, hurling him away from you and letting him fall on the floor.

A few people around you laughed loudly at this little act. Norvid seemed utterly confused, then his expression grew angry. Eivor cut him off before he could say anything.

“You don’t touch a lady without her approval and you most definitely do not crush her like that, you uncouth brute!” She spoke quietly so as to not attract any more attention, but her words cut through the air like daggers. Norvid looked intimidated for a moment, then he huffed and got up, brushing the dust off his trousers before turning on the spot and leaving without another word.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Eivor asked you, placing a hand on your cheek and rubbing your upper arm with her other hand. “I should have never let him do that, I apologize for not seeing him coming.”

You still needed to realize what had happened, but you just shook your head. You were already losing herself in her deep blue eyes again. Suddenly you remembered Randvi's respectful nod earlier and how she was sitting next to her husband now, unhappy and alone. Alone after Eivor had ended it with her. You stepped back, freeing yourself from her touch.

“I’m sure he meant no harm. Thank you, Eivor.”

She nodded and asked Lewin to watch over you during the feast, not letting anyone else come too close or get any ideas. He promised to be on his guard, even though you told them you found that ridiculous. You were just some English girl, they would hardly pay you any attention now that you were not even an outsider anymore.

Eivor stared at you in disbelief.

“You really have no clue, do you? You are by far the most beautiful woman in this room, the most beautiful woman most of these men have ever laid eyes on in their entire lives.” She shrugged and gave you a sympathetic smile. “I can promise you that you will receive at least a dozen marriage proposals by tomorrow night. You are all they are paying attention to.”

She went back to join Sigurd, leaving you completely astonished. Lewin gently took your arm and led you to the table where Aelfric and Hal were already devouring their meals. You noticed you were quite hungry as well and enjoyed some hearty sausages and freshly baked bread alongside the wonderfully cool ale in your new drinking horn. The four of you reminisced about your childhoods at Williamsburg and the feasts and special occasions there.

Delia had always paid very close attention to the way she looked, often spending days leading up to the celebrations contemplating her dress and hairstyle for the night. Meanwhile, her sister had spent her time outside with you, riding your ponies over muddy fields and steep hills, chasing the chickens around in the yard, or playing ball with Aelfric and Hal.

“Did you know Eda has finally left her cell?” you asked them and Hal almost choked on his food.

“She’s out?” he coughed, “She’s out and no one told us?”

“Well, I am telling you now. I do not think she wishes to attract any attention. The only person she has spoken to is Randvi,” you told them and looked around for your old friend. She was nowhere to be seen.

“I think she has already retreated to her quarters, wherever she is staying at the moment. I am sure we will see her soon, let us give her some time to adjust and get her strength back.”

Hal mumbled something into his beard, but they all agreed to give Eda space to breathe. You suggested another round of the dice game they had shown you the other night, but they all immediately protested, complaining about how you had stripped them of all their belongings and left them out in the cold the last time. You laughed and accepted their sentiment - you really had taken everything from them in that last game.

The rest of the evening went wonderfully. Someone brought a small harp-like instrument, a woman agreed to play the flute, and soon the first courageous people dared to sing, serenading you with tunes they had brought back from all over the world. A few people even made room for dancing and started whirling around, filling the room with more singing and drunk laughter.

You danced first with Lewin and then with Valka, thanking her for everything she had done for you and for the unwavering trust and faith she had shown you from the first day on. She hugged you tightly, expressing her gratitude for you as well. You had brought excitement, new knowledge, and new life into her existence in this clan and she was happy to call you her friend.

You were just about to ask her if you could meet her daily from now on and learn more about healing and herbs from her when she suddenly looked over your shoulder and smiled at someone behind you.

“May I?”

The raspy voice came from behind your left ear and it made your insides melt like candle wax. Valka winked at you.

“You may,” she said, placing your hand in Eivor’s larger, calloused one. You wrapped your arm around her neck and looked up at her.

She seemed sober tonight, only a faint note of mead on her breath, her eyes clear and focused. Her hair was plaited back into four long braids and she had smudged a small amount of soot around her eyes. The dark tint only made her sapphire irises shine brighter.

“How are you feeling?” Her voice was gentle and light-hearted.

“I feel at home,” you answered. “At peace, finally.”

Just a heads up: this is not the end, I still have a few chapters to go! I’d love to hear what you think so far 💘

#eivor #lady eivor #eivor wolfsmal #eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #eivor wolfsmal x reader #eivor wolfkissed #eivor fanfiction #vikings #ac valhalla #assassins creed valhalla #assassinscreedvalhalla #lesbian pining #lol

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loving-inkpressions · 3 years ago

Text

Burning Up [3/?]

Summary: When she applied to be the secretary for managing partner Rosé McCorkell, Denali hadn't expected to end up working for the biggest pain in her ass, nor did she expect anything beyond a professional relationship.

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: Dedicating this chapter to my fellow supportive writer, @thevampirearcher. For those of you who have been waiting to read this, thank you for your patience and lovely support. ❤️

Prefer reading it on AO3?

Sitting at the small vanity in her bedroom, Denali carefully applied a light touch of blush to her cheeks.

It was 5.40pm, 20 minutes from the time that Rosé had said she would pick her up at. Denali would have been ready earlier, but she had to finish up a report before leaving the office. Of course, Rosé had told her that she could take off any time after lunch during their morning meeting, but Denali had simply given her a withering look that had spoken volumes on how she hadn’t wanted any preferential treatment.

Not that Denali wasn’t already getting preferential treatment. The blonde wasn’t blind nor was she oblivious to what was happening. Rosé had asked her to be her plus one to the benefit, and clearly it wasn’t in a professional capacity. Her actions in the boutique had made that very clear.

Denali felt her face heat up at the memory of Rosé being in such close proximity with her in the fitting room. Rosé’s fingers trailing on the skin of her back as she zipped her up, her wrists being held in Rosé’s gentle yet firm grip, chin pressed against her bare shoulder, their cheeks almost touching, her eyes burning every inch of her. She could barely breathe through it all and even now, Denali felt as if the ghost of Rosé’s touch was still on her.

Her touches were definitely far more intimate than what was warranted in a professional relationship, something that Denali had been trying, and failing, hard to maintain. But then again, everything the older woman did was unexpected.

Rosé had gone out of her way to trick her into getting a dress, and even the accompanying accessories and shoes for it. She had also paid for everything. Denali had tried to stop the older woman from doing so while trying to figure out how to pay for it all, but there hadn’t been any room to argue when Rosé had said that the bill had already been settled, bundled together with her own suit.

Any attempts to find out the cost had been thwarted when Rosé had all but thrust their purchases into Denali’s arms and practically manhandled her out of the boutique, much to Nicky’s amusement, and into her car where she had driven the slightly fuming blonde home.

———

2 days ago.

Denali was still miffed by the time Rosé had driven around the corner and was nearing where she lived. She still couldn’t believe how she had somehow let herself be swept away by the whirlwind that was her boss, and how Rosé had managed to purchase an entire outfit for her that was probably the equivalent of at least two entire years’ worth of rent. Maybe even more. She didn’t want to think about it.

Rosé slowed her car to a stop in front of the secretary’s apartment complex and put the car into park. There was a bit of a tense silence before Denali unbuckled her seatbelt, moving to exit the car when she realised that she was unable to open the door.

It was locked.

“Nali?” Rosé probed.

Denali ground her teeth, taking in a deep breath to calm herself down before she said something she knew she would regret. Crossing her arms as she sat back in her seat, Denali glared at the dashboard and huffed. “I am not speaking to you.” She was only met with silence, and she could see Rosé frowning at the corner of her eye.

Right, Rosé was still her boss.

“I am not speaking to you respectfully, Miss McCorkell.”

There was another moment of silence before Denali heard a small chuckle, and that somehow only made her bristle a little more.

Why did it seem like no matter what she did, it only seemed to amuse Rosé?

“Baby-”

“Denali.” She bit back.

There was a small sigh before she felt fingers on her chin turning her to face Rosé, her hazel eyes looked even brighter from the early evening streetlights. It took all of Denali’s self control not to stick her tongue out childishly at the older woman. She’d probably laugh at Denali more if she did that anyways.

“Would it really be so bad to be my plus one for the benefit, Denali?” Rosé asked, purposely dragging out the syllables of her name, causing Denali to shiver just a bit, something that did not escape Rosé’s notice.

Light fingers trailed up from her chin to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and Denali struggled not to blush, to hold on to her already fading anger. She didn’t want to let herself be led by her feelings, the ones that she was trying so hard to shut down because of how inappropriate they were. How inappropriate this whole thing was.

“Yes, it would be.”

Rosé could sense the chink in Denali’s armour and tutted as she playfully tapped Denali on the cheek.

“Don’t make me threaten to drag you kicking and screaming just to be my partner, because you know I will.”

Denali blinked, staring at Rosé in disbelief.

No.

No way would she actually do that.

“I would much rather save your screaming for something else.” Rosé added with a wink.

Gaping at her, Denali swatted Rosé’s hand away as she laughed at the blonde’s expression.

“Miss McCorkell!”

Rosé grabbed her hand before Denali could pull it away, squeezing it lightly.

“It’s Rosé, remember?”

Denali shut her mouth, swallowing hard when Rosé drew their linked hands closer to her, brushing her lips against her knuckles. “Please?” The redhead whispered against Denali’s skin, and Denali found herself rendered speechless by the look in her eyes.

A look she didn’t want to think too hard into.

There was a beat of silence, of Rosé stroking the back of Denali’s hand with her thumb as she looked back at her, lips brushing against the skin of her knuckles again.

She knew that she had already won.

“..fine.” Denali finally acceded as she pulled her hand back, cheeks tinged pink at their exchange.

Rosé’s lips spread out into a grin, and Denali had to bite back one of her own at how bright the other woman’s expression was. “But only if you pick me up!” She interjected. “I am not taking public transportation in that dress, nor an Uber just for this stupid event.”

Rosé laughed, one brow raised.

“Stupid event?”

Denali finally smiled back at that.

“Respectfully stupid event.”

———

Present day.

Denali sighed for the millionth time that day, setting her brush down. It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful, and it wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it. It was just hard to believe that someone like Rosé would go out of their way to do something like this for her.

Looking back at her reflection, she carefully tucked a loose curl behind her ear before getting up to put her dress on. Just as she was reaching for the hanger, she heard the buzz of her door bell. Looking at her bedside clock, she frowned.

Rosé was early.

Not wanting to keep her waiting, Denali grabbed a satin bathrobe and threw it on as she went over to open the door. Flipping the lock, she threw the door open and gulped internally at the sight before her.

Rosé was dressed in a sleek black power suit. The blazer stretched across her shoulders and was cinched at her waist, the lapels thin and neckline plunging with nothing beneath the blazer, showing off her collarbones and the curve of her breasts. The sleeves were pushed up, revealing tattoos on her forearms that Denali had only seen glimpses of before. The pants fit Rosé’s legs perfectly and showed her wearing shiny patented red stilettos.

Snapping her gaze back up to Rosé’s face, she saw how the woman was smirking at her, clearly having caught Denali checking her out. Rosé gave Denali a once over of her own, her gaze lingering on her bare legs.

“I don’t think that’s the dress I got you, but I must say you look cute in it.”

Pointedly ignoring her statement, Denali opened the door wider to let Rosé in, before shutting the door and flipping the lock.

“Right, just give me a minute to get dressed.”

Rosé’s eyes glinted at that.

“Do you need my help again?”

Ignoring the less than innocent thoughts in her mind, Denali bit her tongue and smiled. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve figured out how to do it on my own this time.” Rosé looked almost disappointed at that, causing Denali to let out a small giggle as she went back to her room to get dressed.

———

Denali sat at the back of the town car that Rosé had rented, feeling nervous as she unconsciously picked at her manicured nails.

She was growing anxious as they got closer to the venue, unsure of what to expect. This was a whole new world for her. Working in S. Child, a top tier law firm, was already a big step forward and something she hadn’t expected to ever get to actually do at 23, but going for an event like this? A major event like this as a managing partner’s date? This was something else altogether.

Usually Rosé would bring beautiful models or wealthy business partners, anyone of that class and calibre, but to have someone like Denali? A nobody like her? She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to behave, what she was supposed to do. What if she did something wrong? Embarrassed herself by saying the wrong thing? Cost Rosé potential business relations with her inexperience with events and networking? Denali was feeling way out of her element.

Why did she say yes to this in the first place?

“Hey.”

Her mind stopped racing when she felt a warm hand settle on top of her forearm and squeeze it reassuringly. Blinking, she turned to find Rosé looking at her, her usual smirk gone and instead a comforting expression on her face.

“You’ll be fine, Denali. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Denali swallowed, her anxiety still present. “But what if I say the wrong thing? What if I do something that embarrasses you?” Chuckling lowly, Rosé stopped Denali from picking at her nails any further by separating her hands and holding them in her warm ones.

“First off, baby, where is that feisty little angel that loves to argue with me? There’s absolutely nothing you need to worry about. Second, you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. I wouldn’t have kept you all these months if you were incompetent. Lastly, look at yourself. You’re gorgeous, and I am so lucky to have you with me tonight.”

Denali blushed, speechless at what Rosé had just said. She hadn’t expected her to say all those things at all. The blonde smiled weakly at her, turning her hands over to squeeze Rosé’s hands back in silent thanks.

Rosé smiled back at Denali, lacing their fingers together as the car rolled to a stop. When the driver got out and opened the door, Rosé slid out of the car, holding on to one of Denali’s hands as she guided her out. For a moment, the blonde was blinded by flashing lights as cameramen start taking their picture, something that she had forgotten would happen.

Sensing her discomfort, Rosé wrapped an arm around Denali’s waist and pulled her close, guiding her down the red carpet, thumb rubbing soothing circles on her waist.

When the two of them finally stepped into the ballroom where the benefit was held, Denali was immediately struck dumb at how beautiful and elegant everything looked.

Everything seemed to gleam, shining and glittering with opulence. The white marble floors looked as if they had been buffed and polished, tapestries hung on the walls the the soft melody of a live pianist could be heard under the chatter of the equally regal looking people in the room.

Denali gulped, caught between wanting to stay glued to the spot or bolting out of there. As if reading her mind, Rosé gently tugged her into the sea of people, her arm a stable anchor around her waist. She could feel the curious stares of people wondering who it was that Rosé had as her partner for the evening, but Rosé’s encouraging words echoed in her mind, giving her that little bit of courage to straighten her back and not shrink away from those eyes.

The evening passed in a blur for Denali. Throughout the benefit, she had stuck by Rosé’s side. While she was talking to business partners, Rosé never ignored her, always pulling her into the conversation, introducing her as her partner, not her secretary. Denali would smile charmingly and listen, and even though sometimes she felt a little out of place, Rosé would always assure her with little touches.

She took care of Denali, passing her flutes of champagne, offering her little canapés to try, always checking in with how she felt and never once left her side.

It wasn’t long before the other managing partners drifted over. Lagoona was alone and Jan had someone familiar by her side. Denali’s eyes widened a little when she recognised the French woman next to Jan as they made their way over to Rosé and her.

“Fancy seeing you two here Rosé, Denali.” Lagoona greeted, smiling warmly at the both of them. Denali felt herself smiling back, the almost motherly aura that Lagoona had easing any worries she had about what the other managing partners would say when they saw her with Rosé.

“Goona, Jan.” Rosé replied with a smile of her own.

Jan rolled her eyes. “Why are you both so formal? Loosen up! It’s a party isn’t it?” Denali had to bite back a laugh at Jan’s enthusiasm. Nothing seemed to bring her down, which was refreshing in such an uptight crowd. Jan’s partner laughed, drawing the other woman closer to her side.

“Now mon amour, you know this isn’t that kind of party.” Nicky faced them, eyes bright as she looked over the two of them and nodded in approval at their appearances.

“Good evening Rosé, Denali.”

“Hello Miss-“

“No Miss, just call us by our names, Denali. We’re not in the office after all. And besides you’re here as Rosé’s partner, not our employee.” Lagoona playfully admonished, making Denali laugh a little.

“Alright… Lagoona.” She relented, though a little hesitantly.

The grouped chattered for a while, with Jan delivering quick quips and Rosé a few playfully snide remarks, before a silence fell over the room as the pianist stopped, then a full band came on and smooth jazz started playing. Rosé winked at Denali as she excused the both of them from the group and led her to the dance floor.

Placing her hand on Denali’s hip and holding the other hand, the two of them swayed to the music surrounded by a sea of people. The blonde felt herself relaxing into Rosé’s hold, the food and champagne she had consumed warming her belly and also due to the fact that Rosé made her feel safe.

“So how was it, being on this side of the fence?” Rosé asked as she slowly whirled them round the dance floor, her eyes never leaving Denali’s as they crinkled from the smile on her face.

“It’s alright. Can’t complain about the food, though it is a little tiny. Champagne is good too.” Denali shrugged playfully as she let herself be led through the dancing crowd.

Rosé grinned, a glint in her eye. “And what about the company?”

“The company?”

“Yes, how has the company been? Lovely? Entertaining?”

Denali smiled, catching on to what she meant. “Well, I suppose it’s been okay.” She replied jokingly.

Rosé pouted at that. “That’s it? Just okay?”

Denali couldn’t help the feeling of fondness welling up inside of her when she saw the other woman’s face and how playful she was being. It was always so nice seeing this softer side to her.

“I mean I can’t complain.”

Rosé spun Denali out, then pulled her closer, one of her arms now wrapped around her waist instead. “Well I think that mine has been wonderful, charming and rather witty. In fact, she’s been absolutely stunning.”

Denali’s heart skipped a beat at that, and at their close proximity. “Really? Has she now?” The blonde stuttered.

Rosé smirked, catching how Denali was starting to flush just a little. “Of course. The only complaint that I have though is that I have yet to hear her say my name the entire evening. She’s called every other person by theirs, but not me.”

Denali couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. After all these months, Rosé had been practically pestering her to stop calling her Miss McCorkell, and Denali had barely budged except for that one time when she had sent her home.

“You really have a thing for wanting me to say your name, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say it was you, did I?”

“Well then, if you’re not referring to me, then I guess I’ll just keep calling you Miss McCorkell then.” Denali teased, the dimples on her face deepening as she smiled.

There was a flash of something in Rosé’s eyes and she drew Denali closer to her, their faces now barely inches apart.

“Come on, Denali. Please? You don’t want to make me to beg, do you?”

Denali swallowed, feeling as if her heart was now in her throat. Rosé was close, so close that she could almost count every freckle on her face, could feel the warmth building between them.

“Please, Nali?” Rosé urged, her voice low and doing things to her.

She bit her lip, fighting the blush that was threatening to flood her cheeks before finally replying.

“Okay.”

Rosé’s lips quirked into a smile.

“Okay..?”

Denali felt her breath shorten as the distance between them closed even more.

“Okay… Rosé.”

Rosé’s hold on her waist tightened as she tilted her head, her lips brushing against the shell of Denali’s ear, causing her to shiver.

“That’s my girl.”

———

Something seemed to shift between the two of them since that night. Before then their relationship had been almost strictly professional, or as professional as Denali tried to make it, but it was now more casual, more playful.

Denali no longer called her Miss McCorkell, instead calling her by her first name, and that somehow made Rosé smile more. She still teased Denali, but it was different. There was a certain lightness to it, and Denali was more reciprocal with it, playing along with Rosé. She still kept things professional. There was nothing untoward or below board, and there seemed to be a tentative friendship of sorts.

Or at least that’s what Denali told herself.

Rosé could have her pick of anyone, so there was no way that she would be aiming for someone like her.

After all she was just her secretary, and nothing more.

Wasn’t she?

Friends would drop by each other’s desks to banter with each other, pay compliments to each other and tease each other, right?

Friends would bring friends out for lunch, like how Rosé seemed to pull her out of the office for lunch whenever they weren’t swamped with work, and friends would drive friends home if things got late and it wasn’t exactly safe to take the train home, right?

And the casual way that Rosé seemed to touch her, brush her hair behind her ear, tap her on the hand, hold her by the wrist, those were things that friends did too, right?

Right?

———

“Psst, come on Nali! Let’s go.”

Denali looked up from her laptop, pausing mid keystroke.

“What?”

Kandy looked around almost comically then grabbed Denali’s handbag, taking her phone from her desk and shoving it into her bag, ignoring how Denali let out a “Hey!”.

“I’m getting us out of here before your boss kidnaps you for lunch again. I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks now on the count of her always stealing you away before I can. Now come on!”

Denali laughed as she shut her laptop and followed Kandy out of the office. “Relax Kandy. She has a lunch meeting today, so you can have me all to yourself.”

“Good, because girl you have some tea to spill.”

“Me?” Denali asked as they stepped out of the office building and towards the cafe around the corner that she and Kandy loved to frequent. “I don’t have any tea to spill.”

Kandy gave her a look. “Right, no tea. Sure. Also, why am I still holding your bag?” She thrust Denali’s bag at her as they entered the cafe, causing the blonde to yelp.

“I swear I don’t!”

“Less talk, more ordering first. As much as I need that tea, I need to get me some lunch too.”

They quickly placed their orders and were sat with their food at a corner of the cafe in no time, having been lucky enough to grab a table before the lunch crowd flooded the place.

Denali peeled the wrapper from around her sandwich as Kandy bit into hers and let out a moan of satisfaction. Quickly chewing and swallowing, Kandy finally spoke.

“Okay, now spill! Are you or are you not banging Miss McCorkell?”

Nearly spitting out her first bite and dropping her sandwich onto the table, Denali stared at Kandy like she had grown an extra head.

“WHAT?!”

Kandy looked at Denali as if she was stupid.

“Girl, you heard me. Are you or are you not banging-“

“God damn it, Kandy, I heard you the first time!” Denali interrupted, shoving her hands over Kandy’s mouth in a bid to silence her. “And no, I am not banging Rosé. Why do you keep asking me that?”

Kanye rolled her eyes and pushed Denali’s hands away. “Because one, since when has she been Rosé and not Miss McCorkell? Two, you’re always together now and three, she’s been driving you home hasn’t she? So is it your place or hers?”

Denali sputtered indignantly. “I swear I’m not- There’s nothing going on between us!” She hissed, noticing the curious glances coming their way.

Kandy raised a brow, clearly not believing her.

“Sure, I believe you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

Denali groaned and slumped into her chair. “I’m really not. We’re just becoming friends, that’s all.”

“Friends that want to bang each other.”

Denali scowled, grabbing a stray bit of lettuce on the table and tossing it at Kandy. “I don’t want to bang her.”

“Well it sure as hell looks like she wants to bang you.” Kandy said, winking at her. “Also, half the office has bet that the two of you are already screwing.”

“Seriously?!”

———

Denali had been walking from the copy room and towards Rosé’s office, a fresh stack of transcripts for the managing partner’s latest case in her arms, still warm from the printers. She hadn’t been paying attention to her surroundings as she counted the copies she had, double checking that she had printed them all when she felt a body roughly push past her, clipping her shoulder.

Papers scattered across the floor and Denali fell to the ground with a grunt of pain. She rubbed her ankle and looked up to find one of the associates from the bullpen glaring down at her.

It was one of the newer girls that had joined a month before. Denali had heard that she was the daughter of some wealthy family, and that she had her eye on Rosé. The girl had tried multiple times to arrange a meeting with her, wanting to try her luck and ask her to be her mentor, but Rosé had always brushed her off and had requested Denali to rebuff her every time she tried, which she did, much to the other girl’s chagrin.

“Watch where you’re going next time, slut.” The girl snipped, her lips curled in disgust as she brushed her shoulder, as if she had come into contact with something dirty. “My clothes probably cost more than your measly pay, seeing as you’re nothing but a secretary here.”

Denali felt white hot anger shoot through her and she scowled. She hadn’t expected this kind of treatment from someone that she barely knew, though she should have known something like this would have happened sooner or later.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” The brunette girl smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Since you’re finally on the ground like the dirt that you are.”

Seriously? What was it with people these days? Denali curled her hands into fists. She was about to retort back when she noticed the smug look on the other girl’s face start to fall and the colour drain from her face. Blinking at her sudden change in demeanour, Denali was startled when she felt familiar warm hands on her shoulders.

“Denali, is everything alright?”

The blonde looked up to find Rosé bent protectively over her. Her voice might have been calm, but the expression on her face said otherwise with how her eyes looked dangerously still and her lips were pressed into a thin line as she looked at the other girl, who was now pale as a sheet.

“Denali?”

Denali gulped and nodded. Rosé looked down, clearly not believing her, but she didn’t press the issue. Instead she helped Denali up, noticing her wince when she put pressure on her left foot, which made the expression on her face darken even more.

Rosé turned to look at the other girl, snapping her fingers and pointing to the papers on the floor. “You, pick up this mess.” The other girl stared, unmoving.

“Now.”

There was a mad scramble as she moved about, picking up every piece of paper as Rosé pulled Denali to her side, letting her lean her weight against her, when the associate finally handed the slightly messy stack over to Rosé.

Rosé thumbed through the papers, giving it a cursory glance, before finally looking at the now shaking girl.

“Good, now clear out your desk.”

The girl gasped. “What?”

“Clearly you must be deaf or your level of comprehension is worse than a grade schooler’s. Listen carefully when I say this: You. Are. Fired.”

The girl promptly turned tail and ran, a sob could be heard as she fled the scene in tears. Staring after her for a moment, Rosé turned back to look at Denali, her expression softening as she did.

“Here, hold this.” Rosé handed the papers to Denali, and before Denali knew it, had swept her into her arms.

“Wait a minute- Rosé, what are you doing? Put me down!”

“Not with your ankle like that and you still in those strappy heels. Now quiet down and let me take care of you.”

Denali blushed, fingers crumpling the papers in her grip as Rosé carried her to her office, clearly not caring if anyone else saw her secretary in her arms.

Moments later, she sat Denali on the settee in her office, placed the now slightly crumpled transcripts on her desk before going back to her secretary and kneeling down at her feet. Rosé batted Denali’s hands away when she attempted to remove her own heels, instead doing it for her with gentle hands, unhooking the thin straps and pulling the heel off Denali’s foot.

The skin of her foot was now a blush pink and the ankle slightly swollen. When Rosé held Denali’s foot and carefully pressed at the ankle, Denali couldn’t help the hiss of pain that escaped her lips. Rosé frowned.

“You’re going to the hospital.”

Denali shook her head vigorously.

No. No way was she going to the hospital.

“No.”

Rosé frowned.

“No?”

“There’s no need to, it’s just light sprain. Besides, it’ll heal on its own.”

“Denali.”

“Please don’t make me.”

Rosé looked at Denali, looked at the slight fear that she tried to hide, then sighed. “Fine, but only if you let me wrap it.”

“I can wrap it myself.” Denali tried to protest, but stopped when Rosé gave a look. “Fine.” She conceded, folding her arms across her chest to show her displeasure. Rosé rolled her eyes with a smile as she grabbed the first aid kit she kept in her office.

“Ever the stubborn one, aren’t you baby?”

That evening, Rosé drove her home after work, and when she insisted that she was going to start driving Denali to work too, she couldn’t bring herself to argue or say no, not when the care and concern showed so clearly on Rosé’s face.

Denali knew then that she was in trouble because the blurred lines that she had tried vainly to ignore were now starting to blur even more.

#rosenali #rpdr fanfiction #burning up fic #work wives verse #inkpression writes

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sxvxrxssnape · 4 years ago

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Snolidays/Snapemas: Day 2

Chestnuts & Christmas Cards // pre-PS/the years between. Minerva & Severus friendship aka Minerva McGonagall’s personal mission to make Sev love Christmas part 2.

Yesterday’s snowfall had turned to ice overnight. It crunched underneath their boots, leaving behind a trail of sunken footfalls as they crossed the stone bridge and moved towards the tall, wrought iron gates that secured the ancient school.

The wind wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but Severus still took a moment to adjust his hat, pulling it down over his ears to keep his hair from flitting about in his face. Beside him, Minerva had her hands tucked into the pockets of her woolen cloak and together they made their way towards the waiting carriage that would take them into Hogsmeade.

Hogsmeade was a special little town that sat nestled between crashing ocean waves and giant boulders, an endless expanse of pine trees, and the outline of an antiquated castle perched high above the cliff sides. It was home to a quaint collection of little shops and taverns, and judging by its newly renovated state, a smattering of wizards who seemed to love Christmas just as much as the deputy headmistress standing beside him.

“December literally just started.” Severus groaned, as he stepped out of the carriage and looked around the main street that stretched out before them.

Bundles of garland and red ribbon decorated every light post and rows of twinkling lights and colorful baubles hung from all the nearby trees. Even the air smelled festive and Severus’ lips thinned as he made out the scent of warm cinnamon and ginger - out of contempt or poorly hidden delight, he would never confirm.

Minerva chuckled softly beside him as he eyed the snow-covered rooftops with their dripping icicles that couldn’t be intentional - it was the weather’s doing, for Merlin’s sake - but still seemed intentional against the decorated storefronts that it made him think of gingerbread.

“You don’t have to look so put out,” Minerva teased, leading the way further into what he was now seriously debating was even Hogsmeade at all, “If you want, we can start decorating the castle as soon as we return. I’m sure Albus won’t mind.”

Severus glared at her in return,

“I’ve changed my mind,” he decided, as they passed the stone statue of the town’s founder confirming this to, in fact, be Hogsmeade and not an asinine Christmas village Minerva had secretly tricked him into going to, “I can just owl-order the things I need, from the safety of the castle.”

Regardless, he continued towards the waiting apothecary because he could not - would not - owl order potion ingredients. He couldn’t trust the shopkeeper (or the blasted school owls for that matter) to fully understand why it was so important for his bicorn horns to be the exact shade of pale yellow he needed or the fragility of bursting mushrooms.

And contrary to his current attitude, Severus Snape didn’t hate Christmas. He could appreciate a finely decorated tree and he found himself looking forward, and dare he say, a little excited about the upcoming staff holiday party. He wasn’t the bitter, old man inside that Minerva seemed to think he was, all bah-humbug and scowls when it came to anything remotely festive, he just didn’t understand the point of overdoing it and turning the whole town into a fragrant - wonderful smelling - gingerbread village two days into December.

For Merlin’s sake, he was only twenty-five. That wasn’t enough time for him to turn resentful of the holidays, even if almost every single year had been...less than stellar, by all accounts. It wasn’t like he had never tried to have a good Christmas either, but after so many spectacularly failed attempts, he had decided he was better off not celebrating it at all.

In fact, he had been quite content the last four Christmases working at Hogwarts and only acknowledging the aforementioned holiday party and maybe the changes to the menu, because yeah, he might feel a little indifferent towards the holiday but he also wasn’t a heathen who didn’t gladly indulge in rum-spiked eggnog and fresh baked gingersnaps.

Severus shook his head, trying to dislodge the sudden influx of thoughts. His inner dialogue was beginning to sound a little bitter, even to himself.

“Coffee?” he asked loudly, speaking over the first syllable of whatever Minerva had been about to say, no doubt inferring something too close to accurate about his innermost thoughts from the look on her face, and stopping in front of the smiling wizard standing behind a market stall.

“Afternoon,” the portly man tipped his head at the two, gesturing towards a charmed menu that was currently rewriting itself with the daily special. “What can I get you two?”

They ordered the special at Minerva’s insistence, and handed over a pair of sickles each before continuing on their quest. The coffee was strong and hot, tasting of dark chocolate and peppermint and Severus grimaced at the realization that she had inadvertently (advertently?) found another thing for him to like about Christmas.

Minerva one, Severus zero.

He shook his head again; he wasn’t trying to hate Christmas. He didn’t hate Christmas! He was just stubborn to a fault and after Min’s declaration that she would make this year the best yet, a small part of his mind was determined to rebel against it.

Their time inside the apothecary was quick. The shopkeeper was used to Severus’ particularities and kept to herself as he sifted through bins of precariously piled ingredients and filled his basket with perfectly selected bicorn, jobberknoll feathers, and no less than thirteen jars of things he definitely hadn’t come here for.

After he paid - and thank Merlin he had secured a position that provided room and board - Minerva led them into the paper and quill shop next door. She had a Hogwarts-sized order of parchment and spare quills to put in, so Severus went to browse the new display that had been erected in front of the store window. Red fabric was spread over the round table laden with gaudy, ribbon-trimmed quills and pots of glitter-infused calligraphy ink. He reached for one of the plastic-wrapped bundles stacked in the center, adorned with all sorts of festive symbolism and sighed as he realized what they were.

“You should purchase some,” Minerva suggested, coming up behind him and making him jump. He hated when people snuck up behind him. It had once meant certain death and while the threat of an evil, megalomaniacal wizard behind his shoulder was no longer tangible, the sharp tendrils of fear that spiked into his chest had yet to go away.

He forced himself to relax.

“Christmas is all about spreading cheer, you know.” Minerva continued, thankfully ignoring the way his breath had seized, but clearly not unaware of it given the way she took a step back and appraised him carefully. “By making others happy, you make yourself happy. Perhaps you’ll benefit from it.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that all my traumatic childhood Christmases can be attributed to the fact that I’ve never sent out Christmas cards?” he asked dryly.

“Yes.” Minerva deadpanned.

He blinked, taken aback by her frankness before he noticed the glint in her eye that indicated she was mostly joking. He looked down at the packages of cards and selected one with a more wintery scene - painted snowflakes and white-dusted evergreens over the eclectic mix of colorful baubles - with a look of feigned resignation, “I guess I’m sending Christmas cards this year.”

“Excellent.”

They left the stationary store after that and headed for the Three Broomsticks. It was a new part of their routine that Severus had found himself looking forward to - Hogsmeade trips used to be rather anxiety-inducing, lonely and quite dull affairs without anyone to quip with, but now they promised good company and a quiet meal away from the bustle of students. Part of it was due to the genuine friendship they were forming, but another part of it was self-serving - for both of them.

They were both aware of it, they just elected not to mention their unique combination of post-war trauma and newly created grief that kept them confined to the safety of the castle and feeling more than a little discombobulated in the small town just outside of it.

The Three Broomsticks was nestled in the midpoint of Hogsmeade, a cozy-looking tavern made from polished wood and frosted windows, that boasted a warm bed and a strong drink to any desiring witch or wizard. The inside was just as quaint and rustic looking, but now it displayed a cascade of twinkling lights and a modestly decorated tree next to the wiped down bar.

“Afternoon, Rosmerta!” Minerva called out to the barmaid and landlady who was topping off a stein of butterbeer with a healthy splash of firewhiskey for a waiting gentleman. They took their seats at a small table in the corner that Severus had long since dubbed their table and shrugged out of their cloaks.

“Afternoon, you two.” Madam Rosmerta greeted them as she approached them. Her strawberry blonde curls were gathered at the top of her head in a loose bun pinned in place by her wand and Severus internalized a scowl at that. He had seen a few witches - and wizards - use their wand for a quick updo, but he had yet to figure out how it was done and he absolutely refused to ask for help. She was carrying two ceramic mugs filled to the brim with a deep burgundy drink.

“Mulled wine,” she announced, setting them down and Severus noted the orange slice and cinnamon stick steeping in the red wine. “Made it last night.”

“I really do believe the drinks are the best part of the holiday season.” Severus mumbled, picking up the warm cup and taking a long sip.

“Come now, they can’t be the best part.” Rosmerta scolded, summoning a menu from the bar and setting it down on the table. “There’s so much more to Christmas than just good wine!”

“Nothing worthwhile.” Severus said simply, picking up the menu and skimming it. He always ordered the same thing, found comfort in stability, but he also couldn’t resist holiday menus when the time arrived.

Minerva looked apologetic as she ushered the barmaid away after a quick scan of the menu and turned to glare at the now scowling potions professor. “Severus!”

“So, do you have a list you’re working from?” Severus asked mildly, picking up his wine and focusing intently on the red-tinted pulp of the orange floating in his drink. “Or are you simply making things up on the spot?”

“Pardon?”

“Your mission to make this year the best Christmas ever.” he specified. “Are you working from a list? Is there a schedule we’re following and can I be made privy to it, so I can plan my potion brewing around it?” He picked up the package of cards. “Or are you just forcing me to take part in things as they come up?”

Minerva eyed him carefully, picking up her own cup. “A little bit of both.”

“Do I get to hear what you do have planned?”

“Some of the classic activities I suppose - decorating the tree, going to look at the lights, maybe visiting Christmastown, baking cookies, go caroling -”

“Caroling?!”

“- maybe decorate a gingerbread house.”

Madam Rosmerta returned before Severus could say anything else, guiding bowls of butternut squash soup and a plate of cheese toasties onto the table with her wand. “There you go, dears.” she smiled, setting down a smaller plate piled with iced gingersnaps. “These are on the house - first bake of the holiday season. Should help get those spirits up.” She sent Severus a pointed look that he deftly ignored and Minerva glared at him again.

“If you’re going to glower at me every time we go out this month, I might just stop going out with you.” he bristled, picking up a toastie and dipping the corner into his soup.

“Maybe you should stop being so bitter then.” Minerva returned.

“What, because it’s Christmas?” he asked, pausing to take a bite. “Oh, such a joyous time of year! Look how absolutely delighted I am to share a room with wine-drunk wizards,” he gestured a hand towards the bar, where a pair of cherry-faced dwellers were singing the words to A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love, “and a goddamn tree!”

“Severus!” Minerva admonished again and this time, Severus hunched his shoulders at the tone. He had gone too far, he could tell from the way her face had smoothed out entirely, giving her a look of cold indifference.

“I’m sorry.” he muttered, swirling his spoon through his soup.

Minerva didn’t say anything and they ate their food in awkward silence. At one point, a pitcher floated over to their table and refilled their mugs before making its way back to the bar. When they were done, Severus eyed the gingersnaps and wondered if it would be considered poor etiquette to reach over and help himself. The mood at the table didn’t feel particularly deserving of cookies.

Then again, he had once attended dinners at the Malfoy’s with The Dark Lord sitting at the forefront and the ambience of those days didn’t stop anyone from helping themselves to an extra piece of focaccia bread. He winced; it felt wrong to compare past - genuinely traumatic - dinner events to the silence before him. Minerva wasn’t an enemy, he was simply a bastard.

“I don’t hate Christmas,” he finally broke the silence. “I just find myself wondering over the point when every Christmas I’ve tried to celebrate properly has ended in disaster. I’m perfectly content with not bothering over it anymore. The lights are pretty and the food is good, and I look forward to watching Rolanda drink everyone under the table later this month, but I’ve stopped putting merit in the holidays. It’s less disappointing that way.”

Minerva pushed the plate of cookies towards him, like some sort of reward for opening up. Which, he supposed, it sort of was. She picked one up and took a bite and only then did he grab one too.

“I don’t get why you’re so determined to fix that.” he added, shrugging.

He bit into the cookie, savouring the meld of flavors - ginger, molasses, warm vanilla. He couldn’t imagine a more perfect gingersnap and he found himself raising the cookie in a gesture of appreciation as he made eye contact with Rosmerta.

“Elphinstone loved Christmas.” she said simply, taking another bite of her cookie and shrugging as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell of emotional manipulation by invoking the name of her dead husband over a plate of cookies on what had started as a pleasant Monday afternoon of running errands after class.

“I-” Severus began, but then stopped.

“We weren’t married for long, I know, but I knew him for 23 years.” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. Her eyes seemed a little faraway now. “We would always make the most of his vacation days - see the lights, visit the Christmas market, decorate the tree, roast chestnuts and drink hot cocoa. He loved carolling, had a good voice for it.”

Severus looked down at his cookie, scraping at the white icing with his thumbnail and effectively crumbling away the hand piped snowflake.

“I’m not making you celebrate Christmas with me because I’m lonely.” she clarified, eyeing him sternly. “If you don’t want to do anything else on this list, I won’t make you. I just don’t want you going through life thinking it’s all bad and that good things can’t happen to you.”

“I don’t -”

“Yes, you do.” Minerva scolded. “Don’t think I don’t see you wallowing every time you catch sight of yet another reminder that this is supposed to be the happiest time of the year. You don’t have to be the cheeriest person to ever walk the earth, for Merlin’s sake, Severus, but you’re letting bitterness take a hold of you and I won’t stand for it.”

Severus tried to scowl back, but Minerva could see right through him.

“Do you know why I accompany you to Hogsmeade?” she asked and Severus grimaced. They weren’t supposed to talk about it; this was one of those stones better left unturned things.

“Don’t say it please.” he whispered, feeling dread curling in his stomach. He hated to think himself as weak and his inability to enter Hogsmeade alone - any bustling wizard town, at that - was only utter proof that he was.

“Your paranoia is valid.” Minerva said quietly, saying as little as possible and yet too much at the same time. “Don’t be ashamed of having trauma, but don’t let it turn you into a bitter, shriveled up, old bastard either.”

“Are we still talking about Christmas?” he asked ruefully.

“You know we aren’t.”

Their empty plates and half-filled mugs suddenly got up and floated away only to return as a pair of traveling paper cups topped with more wine and a splash of something stronger. They nodded their thanks at Rosmerta and shrugged back into their cloaks. They kept a tab at the Three Broomsticks, so paying wasn’t a concern as they exited the building and headed towards the castle in silent agreement to skip the carriage ride.

“So, roasted chestnuts?” Severus brought up, as they crunched over the dirty ice that coated the path back home. “Like, in the song? That’s a thing?”

Minerva nodded.

“Can we do that, then?” he asked casually, trying to make amends. “I noticed the apothecary had a basket full of them. Perhaps we could return and pick some up.”

“Already taken care of.” Minerva replied, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small burlap sack bursting with its lumpy contents. “You were too busy holding jars of lacewing flies to the light you never even noticed.”

“Roasted chestnuts then.” Severus nodded, ignoring the jab towards his particularness. “And uh, thank you for accompanying me to Hogsmeade,” he added, trying to sound indifferent to it, like it wasn’t such a difficult thing to admit aloud. “I know it's hard for you too.”

The witch smiled softly, as if being reminded of her - what, only three months now? - deceased husband and her old life living in the small town was a pleasant memory. And perhaps for her, it was. Perhaps he was letting grief turn him bitter. What did the deaths of his only friends and both his parents have to do with Christmas? Years had passed since both and yet the newly-created widow walking besides him was coping far better than he could ever hope to.

“I think we should talk about Christmas present shopping.”

“I was just going to -”

“And don’t say you were going to owl-order them.” Minerva interrupted, narrowing her eyes at him. “There’s nothing personal about circling a few things in a catalogue.”

“What do you propose then?”

“We’ll go gift shopping together. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Minerva confirmed, taking a sip of her drink. “It’s too early in the month for most people, so Diagon Alley won’t be crowded at all, let alone on a Tuesday. Shouldn’t make you too uncomfortable, yes?”

Severus offered a smile at the unexpected accommodation and nodded. He cradled his paper cup of mulled wine close to his chest, feeling a warmth that came from more than just the hot drink.

a/n: oops maybe got carried away with this one? it would mean the world to me if you told me what you think of this bc im v proud of it.

#snapemas2020 #snolidays2020 #snapedom #pro snape #severus snape #professor snape #snapemas #holiday writing challenge

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woopboopboop · 5 years ago

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behind the petals

A/N: a little florist harry for quarantine content. i’m still figuring out the style and format for my posts, especially writings (is that even a thing?) so, they might look different from time to time until i’ve settled on the one that i think is appropriate(?). anyway, i hope everyone’s safe and sound. happy reading, loves!

TW: a little bit of strong language, mention of death.

[flowers, bottled feelings and a secret with florist!harry]

Always the same day every week. The same time too. And always leaving the shop with a small bouquet of Asters in her hand. However, today is not the case.

“Ouch!” Harry yelps, jerking his finger away from the roses placed alongside baby’s breath on the big wooden table situated in the middle of the shop. Sure, paper cuts hurt like hell but leaf cuts is when Satan comes to rub the salt on it. In the midst of his muttered profanities, his phone dings. Fishing the phone from the back pocket of his crème flared trousers, he sees that there is a notification on picking up fresh roses at 3.

“Hey Niall,” he calls out but no response. So, he calls out the name again, louder this time.

“Niall!”

A blond pops his head out from the arch way which leads to the back room. “Yeah?” There’s a slight frown on his face since he is in a middle of arranging flowers for a customer order when Harry called him.

“Do you mind picking up the roses at 3?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs. Before disappearing to the back room, he glances at a bouquet of red flowers besides the register. “Y/N’s not here yet?” His question is met with Harry shaking his head.

“Maybe she’s caught up with something,” he says then continues doing his job at the back room. Harry shifts his gaze to the Asters and back to his phone. It is a half past two and he realises that she is still not picking up her bouquet like she usually does on a Friday. No messages from her either and he can’t help but feel a bit worried about the whole thing. Sure, she is late sometimes but never this late.

She is one of the earliest people that he befriended after two years leaving Eroda. Leaving a place where he was born and raised is hard, sure, but, on this mainland, he is livelier, living without any uncertain pressures and presumptions hanging down his back unlike when he is in Eroda. Even though Eroda is not a gloomy cloud hanging over his head as it was before, it still can’t beat the feelings that he gets from the things in life that he only begins to notice and experience when he is here.

The first time she entered his flower shop, she had commented on the juxtaposition of his shop design. A white neon sign against a vintage shopfront. He thought that it is rather a specific compliment and a bit unusual given the compliments that he normally gets when people walk through the door of his flower shop is on his outfit.

In return, he shared a fun fact on the Asters that she purchased. He simply blurted out, “You know, in folklore, people believe that if you burn the leaves, supposedly, it’ll produce a perfume that can chase away evil spirits.” He held out one leaf between his thumb and forefinger to show her.

She was quite for a bit. Contemplating if it’s the truth or that was just straight up lies but she was amused that he managed to pull that out of thin air. “Oh? Didn’t know that,” she said while he nodded his head. “You believe it?”

“I believe in a lot of things,” he said while bunching up the flowers on the working table and tying it with a string. “You?”

She scrunched her nose and tilted her hand left and right to symbolise that she is not really sure of the whole thing. He giggled at her response. When the flowers were tied securely, he handed her the bouquet before making his way to the counter. As she gave out the sum of the bouquet, she asked out of interest, “You’re superstitious then?”

His lips moved to one side, thinking for quite a bit before relaxing. “You can say that. From where I come from, people are very much superstitious,” he considered. He gave her a pursed smile while both hands were on the hips after handing her the balance.

For him, it was an unexpected conversation but still a good one nonetheless. Weekly purchase of Asters then turns into frequent visits to his flower shop and coffee dates. Well, not really a date date even though he would love for that to happen. He can’t lie that there’s somewhat unfamiliar feelings blossoming in him every time they spend their time together but he quickly shoves it down.

He has never felt anything close to romantic affection (if that is what the feelings are) when he was in Eroda. Everyone is too busy shunning him to offer him any kind acts, let alone the feeling of being loved. And right now, he is not totally sure if it is love that he is feeling and he is afraid that if he reads the feelings wrong, everything is going to crumble down between them. That is the last thing that he wants to happen.

He then snaps from his thoughts when the welcoming bell chimes. Quick footsteps patter on the tiled floor walking towards his work table.

“Hi, H! Sorry that I’m late,” she says while trying her best to contain the fact that she is a little bit out of breath. Harry waves his hand in the air as he finds it’s ridiculous for her to apologise about the situation.

“No worries, love. The Asters’ on the counter,” he says nodding to the where the Asters are.

“You’re late than usual. Something came up?” he decides to ask while fixing the bundle of flowers in front of him carefully as he doesn’t want to add in the leaf cut that he had just now.

“Was caught with works. I thought of leaving early but then I remembered that I’ve still got something to settle,” she answers while reaching for the Asters besides the register.

Harry is leaning against the table; body completely turns to her with arms crossed in front of his chest. “Shouldn’t overwork yourself, Y/N” His eyebrows are raised, concern evident in his voice.

She sighs dramatically, giving him a playful eye roll. “Alright, mum.”

Even though it seems like she is not taking it seriously, she actually treasures his concerns towards her very much. So much that she is afraid that if it is going to lead to something else. From the first moment that they met; he has always been a very kind person not only to her but to every person that he encounters. So, she doesn’t want to be looking too deep into how he treats her and misinterpret it which can result in destroying what they have.

“Hey Y/N!”

Niall’s voice suddenly booms out from the back room. Needless to say, she is startled by his voice and feels her heart that has just began to slow thumping against her chest once again. Her sudden reaction makes Harry bursts into fit of laughter.

“Hello Niall!” She glares at Harry before looking around the shop for Niall appearance. However, he is nowhere to be seen and she assumes that he is too busy to come out from the back room.

“A busy man, huh?”

“Very busy.” He says with a sarcastic tone.

“I heard that!” Niall’s voice joining their little exchange. Both of them are looking at each other, stifling their laughter.

It’s not long after the laughter that she realises what she supposed to do. Leaving the exact amount of money on the counter, she walks briskly towards the door with Asters in her hand.

“I better get going.”

Before fully stepping outside of the shop, and taking a turn like she usually does after her Asters purchase, he calls out to her. Despite knowing each other for years and bonding over a bouquet of Asters, he has yet to know the reason why she is buying the flower and what for, especially when she starts to buy the flowers on a fix routine starting last year. Her tracks come to a halt as she spins on her heel towards him.

“Yes?” Her eyebrows are raised and the word comes out quickly. Just like her halted track, his questions are also halted as he sees that she is in a rush. So, he decides that he will ask her another time.

“Stay safe,” he says.

“Okay, Eroda boy,” Y/N replies, sending a wink to him.

“What’s the flower for?” He asked one day. Eight months after getting her first bouquet of Asters on every Friday at his flower shop. Buying Aster is not unfamiliar exchange between her and Harry but it sure has become a clockwork starting the previous year.

And for some reasons she couldn’t find it in her to answer the question. Such a simple four words question but her mind couldn’t comprehend it just yet. The only thing that she could muster is a hum, eyes meeting his momentarily before looking around the shop.

“It’s always been Asters,” he shrugs, “Seems like you’re very fond of them. Was wondering why?”

The reason behind the red flowers purchase on every Friday is not really a heavy subject. Well, dead parents are a heavy subject but the reason behind buying Asters for them on every visit isn’t. At least that’s how she sees it. Her mother always told her how it is a kind and respectful thing to do when you visit the dead. So, she continues the act. Choosing red Asters specifically just because her mother likes the flower. At times, she throws in purple ones just for a good contrast.

On the other hand, Harry has the feeling that her constant purchase of Asters carries a certain meaning. Maybe you’ve heard people saying that nobody cares about the meanings behind a flower. But then again, people buy roses because they think it’s fitting when it comes to showing their affection towards their loved ones. Asters are no difference. Her usual bunch means undying devotion and wisdom and he wonders who is the person that she sees in that sort of light.

Maybe it’s his curiosity or maybe it’s his jealousy (he finds it absurd for him to feel that way given the relationship that they are in but he might have underestimated how quickly his feelings for her are blossoming) but somewhere between those two has led him to ask the same question that she left hanging in the air unanswered previous months. This time, he is determined.

“No, no, no. Think it’s better to have anemones with that. Don’t you think Harold?” Niall says while trying to balance a vase of orchid on his right arm, holding it with a tight grip.

She has been having a little trouble in her writing lately especially in trying to nail on the real essence of life. This time, she is stuck on flowers and who better to ask than the experts themselves?

Harry comes peering over her shoulder to see what she is working on. Attached to the corner of her notebook; a photo of peonies. The three of them are gathered around the marble table near the big window of the shopfront. Y/N is sitting down, elbow propped on the marble surface, chin resting on her palm. With fingers curling on the wooden chair where Y/N is seated, Harry leans his body forward a bit to the point where their faces is side by side. Only inches apart. He hums in contemplation, nose wriggling.

She doesn’t know that they are so close so when she turns to look at Harry, she let out a tiny gasp as her nose almost bump to his cheek. Surprised by her movement, he tilts his head slightly to the side to look at her only to meet her eyes. At that moment, he can see the sun rays reflecting in her eyes and from where she is sitting, she sees his skin seems to get golden when the sunlight hits him.

“Right, Harold?” Niall asks once again, causing both of them to break their eye contact. They don’t know how long they have been staring into each other faces but it seems like it is long enough to cause Niall to ask the same question twice.

Harry quickly retract from his position, clearing his throat. “Yeah… yeah. Usually we… um… we pair peonies with anemones.”

“Well, there you go!” Niall states, a satisfied smile on his lips. Still balancing the glass vase on his arm, he moves to the door, reaching for the weathered teal double door of the shop when he is close enough. “I gotta go now. Couldn’t risk any angry customer, can’t we?”

“Alright.” He shots Niall a thumbs up and Y/N waves him goodbye as Niall pulls the door.

“Didn’t you say that anemone is a sad flower or something?” The mood in the shop shifts as the seconds of awkward silence is replaced with her trying to remember the information while eyes looking intently at the different sizes of terra cottas at the front of the shop. At the corner of her eyes, Harry is walking to the back room only to reappear minutes later with two steaming hot mugs.

Even though the sun is out shining, it can be deceiving as the mainland is cold majority of the time. Thus, a mug of hot or warm drink always comes in handy. He comes round the table and places one of the mugs in front of her.

“Well, if you’re looking at it as a forsaken or forgotten love and affection flower, it definitely is,” he tells her.

“That’s really sad,” she says as a matter of fact and Harry nods in acknowledgement. Just one glance at the mug that he is holding, she knows that the drink is not going to be finished. She snorts while lowering her mug on the table after taking a sip.

“What?” He questions from above his mug. Green eyes looking directly at her.

“You’re going to end up wafting the tea instead,” she jokes, one corner of her lips tugged slightly. She meets his bright eyes for a fleeting moment before focusing on the scribbling in her book.

Looking at him sends her a strange mixture of feelings. On one hand, she can feel the buzzing in her heart seeing his curls dangling on his forehead and the orange one piece that makes him look so soft. But its combination with the uncertainty in her head is not a good one.

“Don’t want you to sit and drink tea alone. Like you usually do,” he winks before adding, “Plus, I know you enjoy my company.” He always has a cheeky remark when it comes to not finishing his tea. And that is his lines for today. She hates how accurate his remark is but she is not going to let him know that.

“Are you calling me a loner? Rude, Harold.” She feigns offence, narrowing her eyes while he tries to hide his widening grin by biting his bottom lips, bunny teeth making a full appearance.

He likes how easy and light the situation is. How everything just comes naturally in between them without any forcing done. Of course, at first they are a tad bit awkward around each other, but as they grow closer, everything is just so easy. One of the things that he cherishes the most away from home. Suddenly the question creeps into his mind and he decides to shot his shoot.

“D’you mind if I ask you a question?” He asks, elbows prop on his thighs, fingers intertwined with each other while he leans forward.

“Hmm?” The sound is one of absentminded, her attention more focused on whatever she is jotting down.

“I’ve asked this before but I’m going to ask you again.” His words are carefully arranged as to avoid any discomfort from rising. In front of him, she seems to stop writing and turn her focus to him. He takes that as a signal to continue.

“Where did you go with the Asters that you bought?”

“Down the streets,” she answers him. It’s not necessarily a lie on her behalf. It’s just probably not the answer that he thought he is going to get.

“Are you using my flowers to have a secret deal or should I be prepared when the police coming knocking on my door?” He gasps loudly which in return makes Y/N shakes her head, unamused about what he is saying but the smile that is making its way on her lips says otherwise.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“But you like me.” One of his eyebrows arches with cocky grin painted on his face.

But you like me. He really wishes he has more confidence to say the words without giving her the façade that he is being playful about it. But he doesn’t have the confidence and it’s another waste of chance for him.

Strands of hair fall on the side of her face. She focuses on tucking it behind her ear rather than focusing on the words that came out of his mouth just now. It’s another truth that she is not willing to confirm just yet.

But there is another truth that she is willing to tell him. As far as she knows, there is not really a secret between them. There is nothing that they don’t know about each other except for the reason behind the Asters purchase and she definitely feels bad about keeping that information seal for a long time. It doesn’t sit well with her especially when Harry is being very open about his life to her. So, she thinks that it’s only fair for him to get the answer to his long-suspended question.

“What if…” her trailing voice catches his attention. “What if you come with me next Friday?”

Her question catches him off guard. As much as he wanted to know the answer, he also doesn’t want to intrude any part of her life. So, he needs to make sure if she is really sure about her offer, “Are you sure?”

At the back of his mind, he is worried if he has overstepped a boundary and she is offering just because she feels obliged to do so. However, a sense of relief washes over him when he sees there’s no compulsion behind her eyes or irritation in her voice when she says “very” to him.

They sit in silence for a while. Y/N trails her gaze from the mug in front of her, seeing the faint swirls of the aromatic aroma of the tea, to the contemplation that Harry has on his face. “Sounds good?”

A smile slowly spread on his lips. “Good.”

This is the last thing that he is expecting when joining her on weekly visit.

Finally, I get to meet someone of importance to her he thinks. Is he sad? Yes because that someone might be her lover. Is he honoured? Also, yes because she trusts him enough to feel comfortable about him tagging along.

But like mentioned before, this is the last thing on the list of what could possibly happen. Maybe he should’ve listened to his gut when he decided to wear the pearl today out of all day.

“Gotta go now,” she says softly while glancing to the Asters placed in between two flat marble headstones at her feet. They have been there for a good 10 minutes he reckons. Y/N crouching on the ground, talking to the two headstones and Harry standing not far from her.

Seeing her having a small talk with two inanimate objects leaves a heavy feeling in his heart. It’s not because it is a pitiful scene. If anything, he did the same thing back in Eroda. The only difference is the thing that he is speaking to is a fish. His best guess is that when you lose something or someone, at one point you will tend to find comfort in something familiar. It isn’t the same but it is enough.

As minutes passed, he has a grasp on the feeling. He comes to senses that it stems from his realisation on how she has been carrying this whole thing by herself. Doing a silent calculation, he figures that it might have been a year. Might have. It could’ve been longer than that because she has been buying flowers from him for years. But a year is still a long time.

A year of purchasing Asters.

A year of her parents passing.

A year of her carrying this on her own.

They had not exchanged a word from the first step into the graveyard. So hearing her releasing a shaky breath is alarming from him. Maybe he should have said something instead of letting the silence and occasional sound of passing vehicles wedged between them. Maybe that would have been better. But his brain couldn’t come up with appropriate words to say. Not even when they are walking side by side, already further away from the headstones.

“I- I’m sorry,” he says, finally breaking the silence. He is mentally prepared if he were to meet her eyes but when he turns to look at her, she is looking forward. There is something in her facial expression and he tries to muster whatever lurks underneath it.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she shrugs. Her hair is getting unruly from the wind that grows stronger so she pushes her hair back. When she senses that the air is tensed, she playfully nudges his side, throwing a soft smile.

He will himself to smile back but she knows that it is not as genuine. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes like always.

“You don’t have to feel bad about it.”

“But I – ”

“You don’t have to,” Y/N cuts him off, feeling a small, reserved grin spreading as an unexpected warmth grows in her chest. It is ridiculous that he feels the need to apologise for something that is out of his control. Out of her control. He has too big of heart for this world, insisting that everything in the world needs compassion. It’s very annoying how he sees the world through rose coloured glasses at times because it leads him to feel too much about everything even it gives him no good. But she has found her way to adore it. Absolutely adores it.

Their steps suddenly stop when he tugs on her wrist, preventing her from walking further. When she turns around, his hand still holding her wrist, she can see that there is sorrow in the way his lips pursed into a thin line, eyebrows stitching together and the green of his eyes is dull.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. Another simple question that makes her brain scrambling for answer. It doesn’t help either now that there is a dull ache behind her eyes. She curses herself for all of the sudden overwhelming sensations. Without warning, it has crept up to her but she doesn’t feel it before as it is masked by the softness of Harry’s voice and for the fact that now he is holding her hand.

Feeling that her eyes are getting hot and cheeks are getting warm, she looks away and down where their hands are intertwined. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she cracks a little, “I guess everyone has their secret.”

With every word spoken, he closes the distance between them. He then tilts his head a bit, searching for her eyes. Through her lashes, the tears on her waterlines are waiting for their time to break free. The next line he uttered is in a tone so soft as if he is afraid that the wave of his voice is going to cause the first tear to cascade down her face.

“I suppose.” He pauses when she looks up to him, letting go of his hand. Internally, he is panicking and is very positive that he had just fucked things up further. First the inappropriate dressing and now wrong choice of words.

It put an ease to his heart as she suddenly pulls him into a hug, putting all of the negative thoughts just now into a stop and down the drain. But he is still very much careful with his words, not wanting to push her any further.

“Just know that you can always talk to me about anything, alright?” He says, pulling her close and feeling a wet patch on his white shirt. The first tear has broken free.

The warmth growing in her chest is now almost overwhelming as she stays in his embrace, soothing her mind in unfamiliar way. His chin resting on her head, his arms running up and down her back, her side of face pressed on the soft fabric of his shirt, arms draping around his waist. They are lost in the comfort of each other presence. They stay like that for few seconds before she breaks the embrace, wiping the tears with the back of hand.

“I know that,” she finally answered, giving him reassurance.

The final tension in the air is melting away as he quirks a smile at her and she smiles back. They regain their step, making their way on the paved sidewalk side by side. Closer this time.

“I like the pearls.” She points out at the string of pearls around his neck, head turning to him with a grin on her face.

He cracks a smile on his own, fingers twisting and turning the pearl necklace around his neck. There is a whole new confidence in his voice compared to the careful tone at the beginning of the conversation.

“You do? Thought s’bit inappropriate to wear since we’re… you know?”

She stifles the bubbling giggle in her chest. “You look lovely,” she compliments, playfully punching him in the arm.

The words fall out of her mouth so easily and this makes him blushes without any solid reason. It is remarkable how easy it is for her to make him feel wholesome. From the words she says to the gentle gestures.

Yet another thing in life that he won’t trade for anything.

#writings #feedbacks are always appreciated #Harry Styles #florist!harry #florist!au #eroda #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles one shots #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #erodaboy #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #fine line

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years ago

Text

Canary Mary & the Miners

A/N: Um. I don’t really... know what to... *big sigh* Listen. Here’s the thing. I’ve been having some trouble finding the time and the inspiration to write in the last few weeks. So I decided to turn to some writing prompts in hopes that one of them would spark SOMETHING even if it was just a few paragraphs to shake the rust off. So I came across one that simply said write about a character named Canary. And a few paragraphs turned into a few thousand words pertaining to Ryan Brenner and of course, a new character named Canary. (It also reignited the spark for me to jump back into the world of Passing Through, which is what I am currently working on and I am EXCITED to share what comes next for that story!) This part right here though, actually takes place well before the events in PT. Ryan is roughly 24 years old here. It’s pre- Jackie, pre- losing Cowboy...pre-learning a lot of things, young, still establishing himself as a person Ryan Brenner. (and some cousins for good measure) I truly hope you enjoy.

Fun fact: Carbondale is home to the first commercial rail line.

Warning: brief mention of drug use, drinking

Word count: 4,761

The first day of any trip home for Ryan was always a busy one. From the minute he’d set foot in Aunt Holly’s kitchen to the second he finally shut his exhausted eyes in the guestroom bed upstairs, the day was always full of tight hugs, loud welcomes, curious questions and more food than any of them could eat. If the weather was right for it, he’d walk down to the beach with whichever of his cousins happened to be around. They’d kill a 6 pack of beer and fill each other in on the stories they’d rather not share with the rest of the family. Once Ryan had come home in the middle of a summer downpour, and the rain, and even more so the lightning, made the trek down to sit in the sand impossible. Instead, Ryan, Jimmy, Taylor and Fitz sat on overturned buckets and bags of mulch in Holly and Alan’s shed, laughing and teasing one another as they dodged drips from the shed’s leaky roof. After supper he’d sit out on the porch with whoever was still awake and alert and play a few songs, the tempo of them slowing as the sky filled with stars.

The second day was always more calm, all the excitement out of the way. He’d wake up in the guestroom, the mattress slightly too short for his long legs but still far more comfortable than most places he slept while on the road, and turn to the shabby wicker bedside table. Ryan didn’t get much mail, just a few letters and postcards, but reading them was always one of the highlights of his visit. Aunt Holly would save them for him, bundling them up in short stacks tied with blue yarn. Although she would always give them to him almost immediately after he unlaced his boots, he would always tuck them away with his things upstairs, knowing that he’d have more time to read them in the morning.

On this particular trip, when Aunt Holly had stuffed the bundle into Ryan’s right hand while his left arm curled around Taylor’s shoulders and he ducked out of the way of a spiraling Nerf football that Jimmy had just lobbed from the top of the stairs, he noted that the stack was a little thicker than normal. He smiled to himself, fingers hooking beneath the thick yarn. I sent out a few more’n normal this year too.

As he’d gotten better as a musician, he’d found more opportunities to meet and play with and learn from other musicians in his travels. Some he never even spoke to, simply set up on the same corner and agreed on song choice without words, with just chords and nods. Others he found himself forming friendships with, realizing that they had more in common than just their musical talents. His first few years on the rails had been spent mostly with Cowboy, Virginia and eventually Georgie. But more recently he found himself traveling solo, wanting to stay longer in some cities, wanting to skip town faster in others. He found himself wanting to stretch his limits and learn more about who he was, not just as a traveller or an artist, but as a person. And he realized that one of the best ways to learn about himself was to interact with as many people as he could as see what he felt, how he responded, who he was drawn to and why.

What he’d learned leading up to this visit home was that he was someone who craved genuine connection, and sought out others who wanted the same. For every one meaningful connection he made, there were at least twenty interactions with people whom he could tell had forgotten his name before they’d even made it three steps, even after they’d just spent a few minutes chatting, dropping a few singles into his case and telling him that he sounded great. Some people, he knew, just wanted to be liked. They craved acceptance from everyone they met. Ryan learned that he was not one of those people, and he liked that about himself. Only one that’s gotta be okay with me is me.

But when he found those rare individuals who looked for the seams in things and pulled them apart to peek at what was inside, he held onto them because he knew that those were the people who had the best chance of understanding him and helping him understand himself. Thus began the growth of the non-biological branch of his family tree. Robin and Oz and the rest of the crew he spent his first West Coast summer with, Georgie, Cowboy and Virginia had been the base of that branch, but other chutes were beginning to form now too, resulting in thicker stacks of mail and more reasons to purchase stamps.

Waking up in the too small bed, he stretched his neck to the right until a small pop released some tension there. A satisfied sigh, the kind that only came from getting a good night’s sleep, slipped from his lungs as he sat up blinking in the dusty morning light. Rising with the sun was a hard habit to break, even when he was staying somewhere that he didn’t need to vacate immediately like he was now, but Ryan didn’t mind. He enjoyed having that time to himself while the rest of the world was still quiet.

Dragging a hand through his sleep disheveled hair, he glanced over at the bundle of letters and postcards, and once his fingertips had finished fixing the errant strands, they reached out to brush over the frayed ends of the yarn that was cross wrapped around his mail. Blue this time. He smiled to himself wondering if he’d be leaving with a scarf or a hat at the end of the week. It wouldn’t be cold enough for a scarf for another month or two, but he knew that it was important to Aunt Holly that she send him off with something to keep him warm. It was important to him, too, he’d learned, her scarves warming more than his neck on several solo winter nights. Clearing his gravelly throat, he pulled the covers back and set his feet down on the floor.

Rifling through his pack, Ryan pulled out his last clean pair of jeans and a dark green long sleeved thermal, a freshly sewn patch on the left elbow courtesy of Virginia. Before making his way down to Georgia he’d spent two weeks with her and Cowboy as they made their way through the Midwest, parting ways outside of Chicago. There were certain things that Ryan always had on his person- twine, sunscreen, his notebook- and with Ginny it was a travel sewing kit. He twisted his arm to look at the patch, a dark brown oval cut from an old corduroy button down that had lost more buttons than it retained, and smiled. He ran his fingers over the stitches that held the patch in place. She’s gettin’ better at this. The nail of his pointer finger snagged on a crooked stitch and he chuckled. Cowboy prob’ly gives her plenty to practice on.

He finished getting dressed and grabbed his hat, bending and folding the brim with one hand before stuffing it into his back pocket. Aunt Holly had a strict no hats in the house rule, and even though he knew she was still asleep, Ryan wouldn’t think of breaking it. She’d knock it clean off my head ‘f she caught me. It wasn’t a guess, he knew from experience. How to pick his battles was another thing he’d been learning lately, and waiting a few extra seconds until he was outside before putting his hat on wasn’t worth causing trouble.

Picking up the bundle of letters from the side table, Ryan left the spare room, closing the door behind him. The hallway on the second floor was narrow and dark; there were no windows because the hall wrapped around the stairwell, and there were rooms on all four sides. But Ryan had spent enough time in that house to know where to turn without having to see, and in just a few familiar steps he was descending the staircase, socked feet moving quickly and quietly over the creaky steps. He made a quick stop in the kitchen, setting up the coffee pot to brew, waiting until he could hear it hissing and clicking as the heat plate warmed up before turning towards the front door. This thing’s older’n I am. Just like shrimp and grits and peach cobbler for supper on the first night of his visits were staples, Ryan would always show his appreciation by making sure that everyone woke to a full pot of dark roast on the second day.

He didn’t wait for the coffee to brew though. Instead he found his boots in the pile of shoes by the door, digging one out from under a red canvas sneaker that seemed to be missing its mate. Whose is this? Taylor’s? He picked it up by the lace and flung it deeper into the pile. What’d she do with the other one? Sticking the stack of letters under his arm, he tied his laces loosely, shaking his head at the image of Taylor walking home with only one shoe the night before. I bet Jimmy was messin’ with her. Though none of them were as rowdy as they used to be, all of the Brenner cousins had held onto their propensity for mischief when they gathered in groups of two or more. Some things never change.

Other things did, though. He took the stack back out from under his arm as he straightened up, eyeing it and guessing that it was thicker than the last one by at least five pieces. Passing the pencil marked molding that measured the heights of he and his cousins at various ages, he opened the door and headed out into the bright morning to read his letters. He settled into the angled Adirondack chair, the wood worn smooth after decades of use and abuse, and untied the knotted bow, smiling at the little pop as the yarn let go of the knot.

Dropping the yarn into his lap he sifted through the pile until he found Robin’s loopy lettering, always in brightly colored ink. He plucked out two letters addressed to him in red and purple respectively, as well as a postcard from Culver City that was so smudged that all he could read was the last line- Oz and I miss you, Brenner. No matter what else she wrote in her letters, whether she was writing to tell him that things had gotten dark for Oz again, or that things were going well for them, she always ended them with that and he could hear her unwritten next line: Get your ass back out here! He was happy to see, after reading as much as he could of the smudged postcard and both letters, that things seemed to be on an upswing for Oz. One of the letters even mentioned that he’d been clean and sober for a year and Ryan beamed. I gotta get out there soon. Maybe this spring, after Montana.

There was a birthday card from Nikki, the girl he’d gotten his first tattoos from. Happy Birthday, handsome!! Was all it said, with a line of little x’s, her name signed below them, more x’s dotting the two I’s. Ryan felt his lips twitch under his beard as a slight flush climbed over it, and he recalled all the teasing he endured from Georgie when it became clear to the rest of the group that there was something between Ryan and Nikki. Been a while since she saw me. He ran one hand over his scruffy facial hair before lowering it to look at the roughly inked black lines and dots that marked the spaces between his knuckles. Inhaling a slow breath through his nose he could almost smell the woman’s strawberry shampoo as she leaned close, holding his hand in one of hers and her tattoo gun in the other, her chunky silver rings cool against his skin. Wonder what she’d think now. Nothing had ever really happened between the two of them. Nothin’ more than kissin’.

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips and he sighed. She was somethin’ else though. Wonder ‘f she’d… He tapped the card twice against the knuckles of his opposite hand before shuffling it back to the bottom of the pile. Nikki’s not really...neither of us wants to stop movin’ around and… He shook his head. Nikki was a great kisser, that he was sure of. She was vivacious and spontaneous and lived her life in bright colors and never failed to make Ryan laugh when they spoke on the phone. But even through all the physical attraction Ryan knew that there would never be anything serious between them. She’s a good friend… just not a good fit for me. He snorted to himself as the sun rose above the treeline. ‘Nd I’m not a good fit for her. He wasn’t looking for a relationship anymore like he might have been last time he went out West to see Nikki and Louie and the rest of them. But if a relationship found him along the way he knew it would have to be right for it to stick. ‘Nd if it ain’t gonna stick there’s no point.

There were postcards from Cowboy that said very little, if anything at all other than a quickly scrawled You’d like it here, Brenner, or Good spot for buskin’. It was like a breadcrumb trail of suggestions for when Ryan didn’t know where to go next and wasn’t ready to repeat or circle back up with anyone else. The two of them- three, counting Ginny- had spent enough time together to know what small town charms and quirks would peek the other’s interests, or what tiny details in big cities the other looked for. Le Claire, Iowa. Laramie, Wyoming. Las Vegas, Nevada. Point Pleasant, New Jersey. The images on Cowboy’s postcards were always faded, and Ryan knew it was because the man would always hastily pull the first card he touched from a display in the window of a gas station or convenience store. No one sends postcards anymore so they sit in the sun. A faded river boat. A washed out field of cattle. The strip, sanded down by sun and time spent in a gift store. A ferris wheel, maybe. Doesn’t matter what’s on the front. He made a point to set the cards from Cowboy aside so that he could jot down the cities in the back of his notebook, where he kept a running list, crossing them off after he’d taken his friend’s advice to visit them.

By the time Ryan was down to the last postcard the sun had breached the tree line, brightening the sky and waking up the birds. The quiet morning filled with the chirps of sparrows and warblers, each trying to outdo the other in the complexity of their songs. Somewhere in the trees behind the house a mockingbird stole pieces of each, taking credit for the others’ creativity in order to fit in, and from the gargantuan oak in the front corner of the yard a small cluster of nuthatches erupted squawking from the middle branches. But Ryan hardly noticed the wildlife around him because his mind was on a very different bird, one certainly not native to Georgia. He read the front of the postcard in his hand, vintage linen print in bright colors spelling out Greetings from Carbondale Pennsylvania, a small white mountain laurel blooming beside the state’s Capitol building, and he knew who the card was from before even turning it over. Canary Mary.

His eyes widened with excitement as he flipped it around, and though he’d never seen her handwriting before, it matched his expectation of her penmanship perfectly. Her letters all stood at a hard slant and the bottoms of her y’s, g’s and j’s curved back around to underline the words they occupied. Ryan always picked up on the ways that a person’s handwriting reflected parts of their personality, and Mary’s rebellious spirit and intensity were visible in the way she pressed her pen to the cardstock. As he read he could even picture her leaning casually in the corner booth at Lyle’s, layers of shawls and sweaters and long necklaces draped around her as she wrote.

Ryan-

First off I hope the rails have been good to you. Hope you and Georgie Porgie are lookin’ out for each other, and I hope y’all had a good summer. I hope you got after some of the things you were lookin’ for when you left here- but only some, ‘cause you always gotta have more to go after, remember that. There’s always more.

Second, just wanted to see if you’n Georgie were interested in swingin’ up this way come October. There’s this music festival ‘round Halloween called Blues’n Boos - don’t hold the name against me, I didn’t make it up!- and I’m thinkin’ of tryin’ to be part of it, but only if you two come and back me up with your strings. I can sing, you know that, but I ain’t never sounded better’n when you boys stumbled into Lyle’s, and those couple’a duets you sang with me? That crowd won’t be ready for Canary Mary & the Miners I’ll tell you that! So I’m crossin’ my fingers you’ll say yes. You got my number, honey.

-Canary

Ryan hadn’t felt the smile creeping up his cheeks as he read, but when he finished he realized he was wearing it all the same. Canary Mary & the Miners, huh? He shook his head and laughed under his breath as he turned the card back over. He traced the block letter P with one finger, thinking back to last fall and the week or so he and Georgie had spent in the small coal town of Carbondale. They’d hopped off in hopes of finding somewhere to busk, but the weather had other plans, a heavy, chilly rain soaking them to the bone within minutes and making playing outdoors impossible. Heading towards the first establishment they saw that they didn’t think they’d be turned away from- a dive bar called Lyle’s, the chipped paint on the lit sign above the door beckoning them like a beacon- they carried all of their things inside and were immediately met with the sound of piano keys and Mary’s sultry, smoky voice. Knew we were in the right place then.

Where ya goin’ baby? And how you gonna get there when I’m gone?

Tell me where ya goin’ baby? And how you plannin’ to get along?

I’m not tryin to doubt ya no, no… just thought I’d ask ya for fun.

Rain water dripped from the ends of his hair beneath his hat, running down the side of his nose as he stared at the woman on stage, completely captivated by her performance. Damn. His mouth dropped open and he let out a breath, turning to his friend. “You hearin’ this Georgie?”

Despite the fact that the woman was clearly ten or maybe even fifteen years older than they were, Georgie’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he answered. “Oh yeah, Ry, I’m hearin’ this alright.” Ryan smacked him on the arm with the back of his hand and laughed knowing that even though Georgie was a sucker for a pretty face that could sing, it was more about the voice than the face, and he respected this woman’s talent.

They had ended up settling in at the end of the bar nearest the small stage, the bartender allowing them to stash their bags behind the bar while they had a few drinks and waited out the rain. They’d listened to three more of the woman’s songs, but it was those first few lyrics that he’d heard that had stuck with Ryan, and not just the words themselves, but the feeling she had put into them when she sang them.

Where ya goin’ and how you gonna get there?

It was supposed to be a song about independence and Ryan felt that in the confident yet carefree way she sang, seeming to play with the listeners’ ear as well as their heart and their ego. But he also realized that he didn’t know the answer. Where am I going? If someone asked me… what would I say? He sat there, brow all wrinkled as he contemplated the bubbles in the foam of his beer. Georgie had gone off to the restroom leaving Ryan by himself, but his stool didn’t stay empty for long.

“That beer got the answers you’re lookin’ for there honey?” Wha-

Ryan looked up in time to see the woman slide into Georgie’s seat, one shoulder shrugging to try to keep her sleeve from falling down it, the other arm waving at the bartender and motioning for a glass of water. She lowered her arm then and turned to face Ryan head on, her wide eyes rimmed with dark liner and fringed with long black lashes. A stud dotting the side of her nose and a small scar cut through her top lip but did nothing to dull her smile. She was beautiful, but not in the most conventional sense. Her beauty came from the way she moved and how she carried herself, how sure she was when she sang and spoke and smiled. I’ve never seen anyone like her… she’s… It wasn’t attraction but awe, Ryan looking at this woman like a moth might look at the light- slightly stunned and not sure if it would burn him or show him the way.

The bartender had appeared with a water, reaching over the bar to hand it to her. She took it, winking at the man and thanking him before drinking a big gulp and wiping a hand across her mouth. Several bracelets and bangles knocked about on her wrist as it fell to her lap, her attention turning back to Ryan. “I take it that’s a no then?”

“A...no?” Ryan shook his head trying to clear it enough to focus on the moment and the woman who was speaking to him. “Sorry?”

“Mmm,” she hummed around the glass as she took another sip, her eyes brightening above the rim. “Don’t be.” Ryan blinked and felt himself relax, the furrows in his forehead smoothing back out at her casual manner. “I just meant...guess you’re not findin’ what you’re lookin’ for in that drink. But then again, who really does, huh?” She set her glass down and extended a hand to him. “I’m Mary. ‘Round here I go by Canary Mary.” She gave a playful roll of her eyes, tossing a wave around the place. That makes sense. Voice like that in a town like this. She laughed. “‘Cause if I ain’t singin’, you know somethin’ ain’t right. Ain’t that right, Lyle?” She called the last part out to the kind, balding man who had allowed Ryan and Georgie to tuck their stuffed packs safely away.

“That’s right darlin’. You’re our songbird alright.” The man called back as he poured two beers from the taps.

Mary laughed again, eyes returning to Ryan’s as his fingers wrapped around her hand. “And who are you, honey?”

“‘M Ryan,” he answered, giving her hand a small shake as she squeezed his in return. “You sound...you’re really good up there.” He nodded towards the stage with his chin as she released her grip on his hand.

“You think so, huh?” She cocked one eyebrow and Ryan tilted his head. Yes. How could you- “Well I s’pose you’d know.” What? She smiled and pointed to the case that was standing up between Ryan’s legs. “Saw you come in with that baby on your back, so I know you know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Ryan shrugged and looked down at the thick lacquer on the bartop. “Oh I dunno, I just-”

“Hey that friend a yours you came in with, he play too?” She asked before he could downplay his talent or ability and Ryan nodded. He does. “How’s about you boys come up and play with me? You can be my band for the night.” She lifted one hand up, panning it in front of her as though reading the marquee on a theater. “Canary Mary & the Miners.” She laughed, the sound heavy and sweet like molasses. “C’mon I think it’ll be fun, what’dya say?”

Georgie had come back right at that moment, agreeing for both of them, and he and Ryan had spent the rest of the night crammed up on the small platform, playing a few songs with the woman who was part songbird, part sultry lounge singer and all heart. She’d leaned in to whisper into Ryan’s ear, urging him to join her on a song or two. At first he’d been hesitant because the only female singers he’d ever done duets with were Robin and Virginia, and he knew both of them well enough to know what they were feeling when they sand, how to match them. But Mary had put that hesitation to sleep with her next words.

“Trust me, honey, what you were lookin’ for in that beer? You got a better chance of findin’ it in a song. So you wanna sing with me?”

He had, and it had somehow felt...easy. As the night wore on and the number of patrons dwindled, Mary, Ryan and Georgie found themselves closing down Lyle’s, the three of them sitting in the only three stools that hadn’t been overturned and lifted up onto the bar. Lyle swept the floor, music playing softly from an old but still functioning radio, allowing them to finish their last round as he cleaned up. They’d gotten to talking, Mary sharing a little about herself and how she left home to pursue a life of music and whatever came with it, and Ryan had asked her if she ever worried that she’d made the wrong choice, or that she’d ended up in the wrong place. Is that… am I worried about that? I didn’t think I was but…

“Only thing I ever ask myself, Ryan, is if I’m good with who I am in the moment. Only person that’s gotta be good with you is you, honey. If I’m good with where I am and where I’m goin? Then I know I didn’t make the wrong choice.”

Where am I going, and how am I gonna get there? He tapped the card against his knuckle again, taking a deep breath in through his nose. He could smell the nutty aroma of the coffee he’d made, could hear the sound of his family waking up and shuffling towards the kitchen for a cup. Smiling as he let the breath back out in a sigh, he plucked the yarn from his lap and re-wrapped the bundle of cards and letters. I’m good with who I am… lot of it thanks to her. Canary Mary had taught Ryan more than he thought she knew at first, but as time went on and he thought back on the interaction, he wondered if maybe she knew all along that he needed some guidance, needed to be shown the way or at least pointed towards the light. Either way, he knew his answer.

It’s too early to call Georgie. Ryan squinted at the sun as he rose from the chair and stretched, his shirt lifting up to expose a thin strip of his belly, the morning air a cool shock on his skin.

“Ry’n, you want milk’n your coffee’r no?” Huh. Guess Taylor didn’t go home last night. Must’ve slept in the living room. Her accent was always thickest in the morning when she wasn’t quite awake, like it was now as she called out the screen door.

He turned away from the sun and back towards the house, tucking the bundle of cards under his arm and whipping the hat off his head. “Yeah, just a drop though. ‘M comin’ in now I can…”

It was too early to call Georgie now, but Ryan knew that as soon as it was late enough to guarantee the other man would answer, he’d be calling his friend to make travel plans for Carbondale in October.

General Tags: @something-tofightfor @suchatinyinfinity @malionnes @thesumofmychoices @gollyderek @pheedraws @beautifuldesastre @alraedesigns @dearmarii @fific7 @traeumerinwitzhelden @obscurilicious @luminex3 @bisexual-space-slut @vetseras

Ryan Brenner Tags: @valkblue @tartiflvtte @ificouldhelpyouforget @manymanymanyenvelopes @getlostinyourparadise

if you would like to be added to or removed from any of my tag lists please feel free to let me know! thank you for reading! :)

#canary mary & the miners #ryan brenner #passing through #Ryan brenner fic #daily writing prompt #write about a character named canary #nearly 5k words later...#anywho #where you goin and how you gonna get there?

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illyrian-lover-flower · 4 years ago

Text

My little mischievous partner ~ part 2

It felt all too slow. How Cassian opened his door, how he ran over to Rhys room on a mushy ground - where normaly cold,even marble should have met his naked feet.

With cold sweat cloaking his forehead and chest, he flung open the dooble door to Rhys and Feyres bedroom - locked it shut and jumped under the heavy blanket his brother slept under.

To Cassians luck was Feyre still out together with Mor and Amren. Just great, now they had to fight off Bryaxis on their own.

Cass would rather wait for Nesta than do this now. No hundred Illyrians could get him out there to this horrible creature.

Rhysand stired slowly awake by the constant shivering of his blanket. At first he had turned to his side and had hugged the round bundle, nuzzling into it as he mumbled “Oh, Feyre darling, you don’t need to purr for me.”

If the thing waiting outside the door wouldn’t have been Cassians worst nightmare he would have perhaps laughed, or thrown the blanket, over his together rolled form back. Making it obvious that he isn’t Feyre - but he was motionless. The shivers that wrecked through him already too much movement for him.

And so he wasn’t able to do anything as his brother pulled the heavy blanket aside. Rhys sleepy face was enlightened by the soft hue of moonlight as he looked down at him with a lust stretched smile and something dark welling in his violet eyes.

But all that was gone as he suddenly noticed the form of his shivering brother. A yelp escaping him as he hurriedly skidded back to his side of the bed.

The soft midnight blue blanket between them a strained bundle, as both gripped onto one side of it.

“What in the mothers name are you doing here Cass!” The commander swallowed hard, not answering as he only asked “Can I please stay here? Feyre won’t be here before sunrise anyway. Like that you won’t be lonely.”

Rhys only glared at him before heaving a sigh, dragging a hand through his already sleep mussed hair “Fine. Just don’t tell Feyre of this - you know just as much as I do that she will not let us live this one down.”

Cassian only nodded - fine with whatever his brother wanted from him, if it prevented him from having to step out of the room.

For a long time there was only heared the rustling of the blanket, that shifted back and forth between the two of them until they settled. Both their naked backs turned at each other.

While Rhys closed his eyes again and his breathing started to even. Cassian was far away from finding sleep again. His heart still beating like a thunderstorm in his chest, his wings slowly closing in around him. Every movement outside, the sway of one of the trees, a bird or a bat fluttering past the window -every motion that caused the shadows to move made him shift. His nerves strained to the point of snapping at any moment.

The ticking of the grandfarther clock in the cornor had him wince with every tick. Still he managed to calm down, thinking that all the things he had seen in his room were probably just an imagination because of his drunken state.

Maybe it was just that.

Still with an unerving feeling in his guts, did he close his eyes. An exhaused sigh leaving his bloodless lips as he nuzzeled into the pillows.

The dancing shadows in the room, that had danced around his vision and had frightened him, were now a soothing black blanket behind his closed eyelids.

Sleep soon wanting to drag him down into its cloudy world - that was until he heared it again. That meatallic sound of a laugh.

“Hihihihihi!”

His body moved on its own accord as it sat up straight. The sweat that had once vanished returned as his gaze hurried around the room. His brother was snorring beside him and everything seemed normal, that means almost normal.

There was a dark shadow, just by the door.

A pitch black clawing fog that swirled around aimlessly on the wooden double door.

His heart beat spedup at the sight, the metallic laugh a screech in his ears he did never want to hear again. Cassians breathes came uneven as he shook his brother awake - this time not taking his plate wide eyes off of the shadow, that slowly started to take form.

Rhys growled as he was once again dragged out of sleep, but as his grumpy glare saw Cass ,almost porcelain white skin - he did not question his brother -that looked straight ahead.

With a tired puzzeled gaze did the High Lord follow the view of his Commander, after he sat up. His thick black eyebrow furrowed as the question was written all over his face. The clawing fog that now formed into the stature of two persons was not at all familiar with him. Wait a clawing fog?!

Rhys violet eyes slowly widened as he came to the realization - still he breathed to his brother “I’m pretty sure there is a reasonable reason behind this.”

And it would most likely not the reason of a company searching Bryaxis, that had killed off dozens the last time they saw them.

Cassian only stared further at the fog, as the metallic laugh was heared again.

And the black mist started to lift. Strand for strand it unwrapped two persons. At the sight of those two pairs of legs, was Cassian glad - knowing it was not his worst nightmare, but who were then the intruders?

Rhys slowly scooched closer to his brother as he ,too, saw the two pairs of leggs. One pair, the more delicate and smaller one, covered in a pair of shiny grey harem’s pants. The tiny feet covered with a pair of silver ballerinas. While the other one seemed more masculine, a long turquoise sheet of fabric dangling over a pair of white pants.

And soon the two frightened brothers were greeted by their little angry, ancient friend. Amrens silver eyes swimming with an emotion both did not want to know what it promissed, while her blood red mouth formed into a twisted smirk as she looked up at Varian.

Varian beside her, was quiet as always. His face seeming a bit more grimm, but also lighter as a smirk, too, layed on his lips and he picked up the tiny female.

Her short legs wrapping around his middle imedeatly as his lips found purchase on her red painted ones. One of his large hands wound around her behind, to keep her steddy beside him - while the other tangeled and ruffeled her silky short black hair.

A growl escaping the two of them, while they did not seem as if they noticed the confused and quiet disturbed gazes of the two brothers, that were frightened for their life at the view.

They both were happy to call someone like Amren their family and that she found herself Varian, but both did never want to find out these specific things. Seeing how their chests pressed into one another, her hips grinding into his. There would have not even fit a sheet of paper between them. It seemed like as if the two wanted to become one right infront of Rhys and Cassian.

And it might have been that the two accted like little boys, that just had cought their parents in the middle of something, but they did not want to watch this unfold even more. A shiver running down both of their spines as they thought about it. And so Rhys took the bravery to clear his throat - loudly.

But the pants of the two were louder as they broke appart. Amrens arms wound thightly in Varians hair, their eyes only snapping away from each other as they heared Cass massive frame coliding with the floor.

The commander did not want to see this unfold any longer, but the blanket had cought his legs at the attempt to flee. All pairs of eyes on his form on the cold floor. Annoyed by the reason for his fall he snapped “You two having your fun?!”

Amren only smirked, as her whole body stayed wrapped against Varians. Her blood red lips one devils smirk as she answered: “Thank you very much Cassian, it is actually quiet fun for the both of us, yes.”

Varian had the decency to turn a bit red as he nudged his dark nose against her almost white cheek. But the smirk that formed on his lips as well, had the two brothers shaking.

Rhys slowly crawled to Cassian as to not caugh the attention of the two smirking lovers and leaned down to him. Freeing his brother all too slowly from the silky fetters around his ankels. “We run at three, got that?” Cassian only nodded. Bracing himself on his forearms as to slowly get up.

But before Rhys had even got the chance to say one, went Amrens attention back to them. That words that left her smirking mouth had them flying for the door behind them. “Would you like to join us?”

They both moved fast as lightning for the door. The heavy wood flinging wide open at the force Cass used to open it up with. This was worse than Bryaxis! decided Cassian for himself as he bolted down the hallway to the living room.

There was no way in hell he would open up that cursed chamber of his. Afterall they both had already been in his room. Oh gods he did not even want to think about that!

And while both, Cass and Rhys, ran down the stairs to sleep on the couch. They did not hear the metallic laugh that left Rhys and Feyres bedroom.

None of the two carred about the sound, as they both ran to get their eyes as far away, from the two, as possible. Rhys not carring at all that his bedroom was used for their fun.

There were plenty of rooms in the riverestate. He and Feyre could simply move into one of them, though the explanation might be a bit difficult.

Even though both Illyrians did not know why Amren showed up in the middle of Rhys bedroom - they were horrified. The few pictures that they had seen in the dimm hue of moonlight, enough for the rest of eternity.

The fire in the fireplace to source of warmth as they , both, layed under a pile of blankets on the couch. Sleep without a nightmare hard to find for the two of them.

*****

As the two drunken and sleepy Illyrians stumbeled out the room, was the seer in need of biting her bottom lip -hard- to prevent herself from bursting out laughing.

And it seemed that even the stoic shadowsinger beside her, had to pull hard on his leash of restraint to not burst out lauging too.A light snicker escaping him.

Elain nudged his, brown painted, arm with hers. A smile on her lips as she gazed up at him. Him and his turquoise eyes.

She pounted.

Bold in her drunken state did words leave her mouth, she would have never said if she was sober - but that whole plan of hers was something she would have never done in a sober state.

“I like your hazel eyes better.” was all she mumbled

Azriel grew stiff for a moment at the comment, before he lifted his scarred hand and pulled the two contact lenses out. Revealing his hazel eyes onse again. The emotions inside of them, that made the green and brown appear like one swirl of color - as if they had been painted by Feyre herself with her oil paint, a true master piece. Making the seer lose her breath.

And so did the Shadowsinger as he heaved a sigh once the two foreign bodys were out of his eyes.

The kind smile he offered his friend was something breathtaking, but Elains breath was knocked out of her lungs for another reason.

Her still silver eyes widening at the red smeared lipstick on his sinfull lips.Those lips that had touched and caressed hers like a real lover, wrapping her soft cold lips into the warm blanket of his.

Even though the act, they just had put up, seemed wild and full of passion and like something that was clearly created by Amren and her lover.

But it wasn’t.

It was a song that was sung by the uniting bodys of the Shadowsinger and the seer. A symphony that only their soul and body could create, but that was something that could only be felt by the two of them.

Two drunken ones not even able to notice the difference between those who played infront of them and those which were the real ones.

The hight difference between ‘Amren’ and ‘Varian’ , that stood in the middle of Rhys and Feyres bedroom, gazing at each other with such warmth and intensity that could melt ice, was a lot lesser than the original one.

Something the make up skills of Elain could not make up for.

As well as the bulkier stature of ‘Varian’ and since it was dark, it was also not noticed that his entire backside was covered in shadows.

The black swirling whisps little snakes around Azriels wings, covering everything up like a cloak. Something he had already done many times - mostly durning spies and visits to the mortal lands after the war.

And Elain needed to admit, her eyes taking in every inch of Azriels disguised form, that she would never want anyone else besides the shadowsinger.

His tan, but not ebony skin. His hazel eyes - not quiet brown but also not grey or green either. His touseled soft black hair, instead of white flowing one.

Elain realized with shock, as she lifted her hand to cup the Shadowsingers brown cheek, that there would never be anyone as beautiful as Azriel for her.

Body and Soul. Of course did he have cracks and weired habits of his. Scars covering his body, his hands mostly, but also his heart. His kind heart that seemed for most cold, but was in truth the hearth of a fire to which, at least, sweet Elain wanted to come home forever.

Her pale hand that rested on his dark cheek and tried to smear away a bit of the color on his gods crafted face, did nothing. She only caressed his cheek. And the Shadowsinger could do nothing more than close his eyes - leaning in to the soft touch of hers.

A chuckle escaping his relaxed face as he realized what the intensing swipes with her thumb attemted to do. “You do remember, El, that you yourself had put smearproof make up all over my skin, right?”

Elains eyes widened slowly “Oh.”

Azriel burst out full laughing at her short memory, that usualy remembered everything from the start of her fae life, her tipsy state having clearly infected her a bit too much.

Both probably too tipsy at this point that they did not care at all, that they were laughing like maniacs in the middle of darkness. Bold words leaving their mouthes as a fire ignited between the two.

Elain innocent smile, seeming all weired and twisted in Amrens form. But Amrens looks fit her wicked tongue just right.

A gleam in the silver contact lenses of hers. “Well I guess that I have to remove it all again then.”

Azriel did not know how he would have reacted if he had been sober, but all he remembered in his tipsy state, was that he closed the little distance between them. One of his scarred hands holding his lenses as the other lifted to the seers soft cheek.

The distance between them, the distance that was barely there - was unbearable as Azriels already red smeared lips were only milimiters away from hers. A soft whisper of them and his words everything against them.

A few little words, a touch all it needed for Elain to shiver from delight. Gosepumps appearing all over her body.

“You would not be capable of what you unleash, little seer.”

Elains breath was cought in her lungs. There were only a few times were he called her with such names. She mostly knew in which situation he used which nickname for her, but with these she never knew.

His gaze always holding, in such moments, a stronger intensity.

“I think you’re underestimating me, Spymaster.”

And just before she closed the milimeter between them, breathless words left her lungs.

“Because I know I could handle you, Azriel. Forever.”

Those were the words that unleashed the Shadowsinger. Never in his life had he heared such sweet words and for the first time of his life did he want to taste these sweet words on her lips.

Every mother damned syllable of them.

A dance of soft lips fighting against each other, erupting in the soft hue of moon light before they were gone in a shadowy breeze.

_______________________________________________________________

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#mischivous elriel #elriel #mentions of Vamren smut #Amren #Varian #two disturbed Illyrians #rhys #cass #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #azriel #elain #elriel fluff #tipsy elain #tipsy elriel #acotar #tipsy az

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

Text

Survey #407

“sugar pop, sugar pop, baby here i come, straight to #1″

Do you follow any special diet? (dairy free, vegetarian, gluten free etc.) No. What’s your favourite summer activity? Swimming is all I really enjoy about summer. Who was the first person to break your heart? It wasn't in a romantic sense obviously, but my dad. First band you obsessed about? I've only ever *truly* been obsessed with Ozzy Osbourne as a band, haha. First place someone took you on a date? I want to say a local skating rink. It was a group thing. How many doors are in the room you’re in? Two, if you include the closet door. Has anyone ever drawn a picture of you? Yes. Do you have any nieces or nephews? Quite a few. Which movie villain do you find the most terrifying? Well, if you've seen the scene where Pyramid Head literally rips a woman's skin off like a sheet in Silent Hill... u kno. I genuinely do find him to be a terrifying monster though, all bias aside. Humanoid monsters with ambiguous faces unsettle me. I wouldn't want that knife swingin at me, either. Do you get grumpy when you’re hungry? Yuuuup, I sure can. Do you stick your tongue out often in pictures? I have done that maybe twice in my whole life. Which one of your family members are you closest to? My mom. If chocolate was an illegal drug - would you be a drug addict? Nah. I'd be able to survive if it was illegal, but it would suck. Are you proud of your parents? Yes in some areas, no in some others. There are things both have said and/or done that I can't say I'm proud of them for, but overall, I am. Do you say “soda” or “pop”? "Soda." Are you shy about singing in front of people? YUP. I just don't do it. If you could get backstage tickets to ANY concert - which would you pick? Ozzy. :') It'd be fantastic to tell him thank you for his music that has always brought me joy and comforted me, and also let him know for sure just how strong he is and that it is absolutely not overlooked to still be nailing out an album while fighting Parkinson's. I'd probably start blubbering like a baby while rambling at some point, haha. Which is better: orange or grape soda? Orange. I don't like grape soda. Do you sleep with a sleep mask? Well, you could sort of call it that, ha ha. I have to wear an APAP mask to subdue my sleep apnea that causes wild nightmares/terrors. Do you like techno music? It's actually grown on me the past few months. Have you ever been drunk? No, I've never quite reached that point. I've only been tipsy. Are you mad at your best friend right now? Nope, got no reason to be. Do you know anybody with a pet snake? Yes, including myself. Is there any drink that you absolutely MUST drink cold? WATER. ABSOLUTELY WATER. I canNOOOOOOT do room temperature water anymore. It's gotta be pretty damn cold for me to drink it like it's nothin'. Have you ever painted anybody's nails aside from your own? No. Do you ever donate to the less fortunate? Mom likes to donate our old clothes and stuffed animals. Did you buy an American flag after 9/11 to put on your car/house/ whatever? I was a little kid when this happened, so. I don't know if my parents did. Honestly, do you have any Hilary Duff on your MP3 player? HA, I do. I love "Who's That Girl." When was the last time you had an ice cream sandwich? Wow, probably years... I really, really want one now, ha ha. Have you ever caught a friend cheating on their bf/gf? Well, my sister's friend, anyway. I was just sitting on the computer in the living room and there they were on the couch just casually making out. Do you enjoy doing math? Fuuuuck no. Do you think your mom has secrets she’s never told you? Oh, I know she does. There are things she's done that I know I have plenty of missing details from, but I don't ask because I know they're sensitive subjects. Do you own anything you don’t want your parents to know about? No. Do you pose in your pictures or just smile? I usually just smile. Do you use scented soap in the shower? Yes. It smells like cinnamon rolls and it is HEAVENLY. Did you ever want to be a fashion designer? No. Who was the last person you danced with? Enjoyable? Ha, Sara. Yeah. Dark or light colored jeans? Dark, 100%. I never wore light jeans. Can you take apart a computer and name all the parts? No sir. Can you take apart a car and name all the parts? That's an even bigger "no." Have you ever purchased a lotto ticket? No. What is the longest amount of time you've spent playing Monopoly? Idk. Have you ever witnessed a tornado first-hand? Thank fucking Christ I haven't. I am terrified of them. Have you ever colored your eyebrows? No. Have you ever taken another person's prescribed medication? Pain medicine, yes. Have you ever played golf (not miniature golf)? No. I'm not interested to, either. Have you ever gotten dressed with the windows open? I definitely don't believe so. Have you ever taken a shower outside? At the beach, yes. If you could call it a "shower." Have you ever been to a junkyard? No. Have you ever watched the History Channel willingly? No. If you could get the cell phone of your choice - what would it be? Probably a current iPhone. Apple is such a rip-off, but damn is the camera good lmao. Do you hand out candy to kids on Halloween? This will be my first Halloween in this house, so I really don't know if trick-or-treaters happen here. Do you like huskies? Love 'em, but I could neeeever own one with all that fur. What do you smell like? I'm always self-conscious over if I smell like sweat because of my hyperhidrosis. I hope not. Do you take your dog for walks? I don't have a dog. I used to take Teddy when he was younger, though. He loved those, but I stopped when I noticed his arthritis kicking in. Have you ever went paintballing? No. Seems stupid to me, honestly... Like that shit seems painful, so like, why??? What kind of movies are you drawn to? Horror and fantasy, mostly. I don't watch movies often. How often do you update your Facebook status? Just about never because I either just have nothing to say or am afraid of saying something stupid. I only ever share posts or pictures that appeal to me. What type of pet would you like to have? A Brazilian Black tarantula. :( I will whine about that until the day I get one, ha ha. I would also really, really like a plains hognose and a woma python. What breakfast are you most likely to have? Cereal. When you're starting to feel sick, you: It depends on what kind of "sick," but odds are I'm heading for the medicine cabinet. What colors are you most drawn to? Pastel ones. :') Light and pretty. What deadly sin are you most likely to commit? Sloth. When you're away from home, what makes you feel at home? "Having my stuff with me, like my laptop." <<<< Same. Do you prefer to lounge in a hot tub or swim in a pool? Swim. How many books do you have out in the public areas of your house? None. Who makes a better burger, in your opinion? Sonic. @_@ What do you like best about the holidays? Seeing my niece and nephew so excited. You think your eyes convey: Boredom, probably. Besides screaming for ice cream, what else do you scream for? If a bug surprises me by being on me. Well, depending on the bug. Do you like fried chicken? Noooo, it is so gross to me. What do you think of belly button piercings? They are SO cute imo. I want one, but I think it would look hideous on me. Maybe if I was actually thinner. Not saying bigger people can't wear belly button piercings, I just don't think it would look good on me. Do you like plain Lays potato chips? They're my favorite! I especially like the ruffled kind. Is there a big screen television in your house? In the living room, yeah. Would you rather no heat in winter or no A.C in summer? No heat in the winter, EASILY. I can't handle no A/C when it's hot. At least if you're cold, you can bundle up with tons of blankets. Have you ever had braces? I did for a long time because we couldn't afford to take them off. Do you do your own laundry? No, honestly. Mom likes to just do it all together, so I let her do it. Which do you prefer: English, Irish, or Australian accents? Irish. Is there anything on your bedroom door? Yeah! I got a "Meerkat Lover St." sign for my door. :') What is the best vegetable? Broccoli. Guys in eyeliner: Hot or not? That shit is h o t. Have you ever seen your favorite band live? No. :( Do you drink water or soda more often? Ugh, soda. Did you collect Pokemon cards back in the day? I didn't deliberately, but only because I was awkward about asking for Pokemon stuff because I thought people thought I was weird for being a girl and being obsessed with it. I think I got one pack. I really, really wish I'd been less self-conscious about that passion. Pet turtle: yay or nay? I'm personally not interested. Did anyone famous come from your town/city/school? Yeah, but I'm not sharing who. Have you ever seen a celebrity on the street? No. Have you ever pretended to be sick? To avoid school sometimes, yes. Can you ice skate? Never tried, too scared to. The blades terrify me. Do you have your nose pierced? No, but I want to have it redone. Do you loooove Tim Burton movies? I sure do! What arcade games do you like to play? I haven't been to an arcade in forever... but I liked the racing ones. What's the most expensive gift you've ever gotten for someone else? I'm not sure. Would you rather spend a whole day with your mom, or your dad? At this moment, probably my dad. We haven't hung out in a long time. What would you say if you found out your last ex was in a relationship? I'd be happy for her and tell her she'd better let me know if the person ever fucks up so I can kick some ass, ha ha. Are you easily confused? Very. I'm slow to understand things. Where was your MySpace/Facebook default taken? My bedroom. Can you whistle with your fingers in your mouth? No. I've never understood how that works. Do you like peanut butter? Love it.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''bubblegum bitch'' by marina and the diamonds

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