#MAKE HIM SHAKE IN HIS BOOTS AGAIN GREY LOL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweetearthandnorthernsky · 11 months ago

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33 for anyone you'd really like to plinko :D

33. protector/sacrifice (leaning more into sacrifice because i'm. mean lol) me @ me: how to save candaith while also having a dead character to give the troubled dream sequence the Weight ™ it deserves [redacted]: bonjour c: me: oh. thats how. FUCK anyway! spoilers for the forsaken road :') ish.

The wind screams in the caverns, cutting through Saelinriel's cloak as if it's made of paper, and she shivers. Her hands shake as they hold her torch as she ventures further into the cavern, following closely behind Radanir.

There is a howling gust and all the torches, not just hers, go out in a single puff, drowning the Grey Company in darkness.

The darkness is all consuming, until, breaths later, blue light flickers into being, like corpse-candles.

They are tall columns, indistinguishable from shadows in the evening at first, before steadily growing clearer and clearer until Saelinriel can see each face with perfect detail. Saelinriel can almost feel the anger that radiates from them like a heatwave, and they get only angrier when Halbarad challenges them.

Finally, the leader seems to call off the other shades and look straight at her, so intently as if they are trying to turn her into a shade by sheer force alone. Chill clings to her bones as the leader instructs her to find Britou, who speaks with all who pass through the Forsaken Road.

Then, as quickly as blowing out a candle, the shades disappear.

They are not gone, she still feels the chill of the air that lingers around the Dead, but they are no longer visible, and that is better than nothing. Halbarad tells her that he and Radanir will search one side of the cavern, and tells her to find Candaith, who ought to be down that way.

Just as she is about to go down into the tunnel where Britou awaited, something catches her elbow, and she nearly jumps several feet in the air. There is an apologetic chuckle, and Tadan steps out of the shadows.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says ruefully, as she shakes her head, trying to calm her heart rate. “Where are you headed?”

She shrugs. “I was told that Candaith would be down this way, and to find him before speaking with Britou.”

“Mind if I come with you?”

If Saelinriel has to tell the truth, the company is more than welcome. The chill makes her teeth chatter, and the Dead sets her on edge, so she nods, and they find Candaith, and the three of them go see Britou.

The stones crack underneath Saelinriel’s boots as she walks, and her shoulders brush the wall of the tunnel before it spits them out into a bowl shaped cavern, where a shade – bright in the dimness, with horribly keen, piercing eyes - waits in silence.

He studies them keenly, and there is a coldness in his eyes. He feels much more alive than the other shades and something about him makes her chest twist into knots.

“All who stray here belong to the Dead.” Britou speaks the word dead with a horrifying finality, and it is all she can do to not step back. “It was unwise to come here, warm-bloods.”

"You came to this place to escape your curse, Britou. But there was no escape, was there?" Candaith says, coldly. “You will never know the peace of death until you fulfill your oath.”

Britou scoffs and summons shade after shade, trying to wear them all down, until Candaith steps forward, eyes blazing underneath his hood and mask. “Enough of this!" he commands fiercely. "We need prove nothing to you.”

Britou laughs and five shades appear this time. Saelinriel and Candaith and Tadan barely manage to defeat them – if defeat is the right word, since they cannot truly be slain for they are the Dead Who Do Not Rest.

"End this, Britou! I command you to end this!" Candaith says, every inch one of the Dúnedain.

"I need not listen to your commands, warm-blood!" Britou raises his hands for the spirits to come again but--

"Hold!" Candaith's voice echoes with power, like the roaring sea, and Saelinriel nearly claps her hands to her ears with the way it bounces off the stone walls. “I have the authority to command you and all your kind, Britou!”

Her heart freezes in her chest and she almost chokes on her breath. She and Tadan share a look that says the same thing: What is candaith doing?

Britou scowls, his faint blue light growing brighter by the minute. "Impossible! What evidence dost thou have that this be so?” He hisses the words out, his voice shuddering off the walls, as if there is a multitude of him instead of one.

Candaith pulls his glove off without lowering his sword and his bebarahir glints in faint blue light as he holds it aloft. “The ring of Barahir, heirloom of isildur's line!"

Britou snarls, his face going dark. His eyes narrow as he studies Candaith, and the small room gets even colder – Saelinriel’s teeth chatter faster than before. “I see…”

She does not know what Britou is looking for in Candaith’s face, but try as she might, Saelinriel cannot see over Candaith's shoulder.

A few moments pass.

She can tell by the way the cavern goes still – more still than before – that something passes unseen and unspoken between them.

“We will fulfil our oath at last, that the heir may lift the curse. thou may tell thy men.”

Ever so slowly, Candaith turns to face her and Tadan.

The relief that flooded her at Britou's admission slowly ebbs away, draining out of her and leaving the dregs of worry and fear in their place – instead of a triumphant smile, a grimace graces Candaith’s face, like he is bracing himself for something unpleasant.

She watches as Tadan’s eyes go wide.

And everything happens at once.

Britou's lips curl into a devious smile and he looms large behind Candaith, casting a dark blue shadow over him, and Saelinriel’s mouth drops open and she can't- she can't say anything, she can't force a single syllable out.

Britou lifts his spirit-sword high and Tadan only just manages to shout a warning, but it is too late – Britou strikes Candaith down before there is time for him to even do anything.

“But that is not the Ring of Barahir, and thou art not the heir of Isildur.”

The words echo in a deafening judgment as Candaith staggers forward and she tries - though she knows, logically, that she would not be able to catch him easily - to keep him from hitting the ground hard.

He is so still and heavy, and she is frozen and cannot move and Britou's eyes glint as he narrows in on her and Tadan as red oozes across Candaith’s back.

“Get Candaith out of here,” Tadan says, his voice only slightly shaky as he steps between Britou and the two of them and–

Saelinriel wants to argue, she can’t– won’t– just leave him here, (she made a promise in Evendim, at the side of Astiul's cairn, all those months ago) but the red stain on the back of Candaith’s tunic is rapidly spreading and getting concerningly dark.

Her free-hand hovers above her sword, torn, as Britou continues to summon shade after shade.

“Just give me a head start,’’ he says, swords drawn. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

“But–”

Candaith lets out a cough, and blood trickles out of his mouth.

“Go!”

Britou's cold, cruel laughter echoes through the hollow chambers as she is forced – half-carrying, half-dragging a woozy Candaith – through the tunnels, harried by the Dead.

All around them, the cavern shakes, as rocks and dust shudder down from the ceiling and the Dead pursue them as they flee, though more than once she turns, trying to see where Tadan is, but the haze of falling debris makes that impossible. They stumble over planks of wood, over bodies -- and this makes her want to be sick, but to be sick is to stop and to stop is... not an option.

An eternity passes – or so it feels – before the two of them stumble into Radanir, nearly knocking him down as the world shifts and tilts, and Saelinriel grabs his arm with her free hand – partly to steady herself, and keep from toppling Candaith onto the floor at such an abrupt stop.

At once, Radanir ducked under Candaith’s other arm, and some of the weight shifts, balancing out, and Saelinriel’s shoulders aren’t screaming so loudly at her for trying such a task alone anymore.

Radanir looks utterly concerned, his brows drawn together as he tries to limp them toward the exit, but his words floated to her as if he were speaking underwater. “What has happened? All of a sudden, the Oath-breakers fell upon us, and we have only driven them off for the moment!”

“I…” She stumbles over herself as they come nearly to the mouth of the caverns, and Radanir tries to take Candaith further but her feet are rooted to the ground as black spots dance in her vision and her next words scrape her throat raw: “Stop! We have to wait for Tadan!”

The cavern is shaking still, sending more and more debris down on them but...

Radanir says something about her and Candaith being nearly the last ones in the caverns -- everyone else is gone -- and surely Tadan is waiting for them outside.

Another rattling boom as the cavern walls shake harder, throwingg down boulders the size of Saelinriel's torso, and there really is no arguing now.

But, as the three of escape into the fading daylight, stumbling bloodied and pale with the rest of the company back to Lhaunch, she keeps her eyes on the darkness of the tunnels until the very last.

#ty friend!!!!!!#this took me. three months to write alas #og post #ask game reply tag #my fic #listen. for troubled dreams to have the IMPACT i need it to in-fic it needs to be character who is both a) dead and b) actively #with the grey company #now this could be an au because it's a toss up between [redacted] and andreg but. i am leaning slightly toward andreg because #this is lowkey just mean.#i already killed [redacted's] brother i feel like i should let him live lmao #but that is not what wanted to happen here

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ichorai · 4 years ago

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frozen hearts, flaming arrows ; p.sh

parts ; one. masterlist. two coming soon.

pairing ; fire!seonghwa x ice!reader

summary ; two enemy clans. one icer healer, one flamer soldier, one brewing war. love was never meant to be a part of this. but then again, when is love ever supposed to be a part of anything?

words ; 7.3k

warnings / includes ; cursing, violence, a make-out scene !!, future suggestive / mature content, hwa being sexy as always, ANGST okay this is a lot of ANGST and hURT, enemies to friends to enemies to lovers trope lol

a/n ; bet yall didn’t see this one coming lol but yea pls enjoy !!! im rlly excited for this series omg !!! im sorry this part was rlly short and kinda bad kkdfjdf but this is just the beginning and i swear part two will be much better !!

A snowflake glowing a luminescent blue lazily floated above your palm, multiplying into several others until you held a mini-flurry in your hand. You walked past all the frosted-over trees, huffing in deep breaths of cold air as your boots stepped over piles of unblemished snow and crispy dead leaves.

Being a healer was exhausting. Though you were still fairly new to the job, you couldn’t help but lay all the blame on yourself for being incapable of saving a life today. You just… hadn’t expected there to be that much blood. Icers had thicker blood for a reason; it wasn’t usually a problem. The head healer tried to reassure you that you did everything you could, but you couldn’t stand to be in the medbay for much longer. You needed air.

And that’s how you ended up here, head spinning dizzily as you stomped through the wintry grey forest, releasing out a frustrated groan from the bottom of your lungs.

“You’re dangerously close to our territory, Icer.” The sudden deep-timbered voice had you flinching so harshly you hit your head on an icy tree branch. “I’d watch my step if I was you.”

Breath caught in your throat, you watched with wide eyes as the Flamer stepped out of the shadow of a tree. He was undeniably handsome; his irises were dark, flecked with a fierce gold the same hue as the edge of a fire, his slicked-back hair a nightly black, and a curl of his carmine lips that was nowhere near friendly. An obvious insignia of a red flame was embedded into his unwrinkled jacket, a clear sign of this man being from the Fire Tribe.

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized I was so close to the border.” You murmured, backing away slowly. The small snowflakes that you had accumulated in your palm quickly dissipated into the air, but miniscule particles of snow still floated around you, no doubt a result of your quaking nerves.

Noticing this, the man watched curiously as a snowflake drifted by him. He raised a finger towards the ice crystal, a small orange flame bursting out of the tip. The snowflake melted into a droplet of water, falling to his feet. You noticed the snow had melted away from him in a large circle around his shoes, now standing in a patch of wet grass. Even from the great distance between the two of you, you could still feel the wavering heat pulsating from this strange man.

“What are you doing so far away from your people?”

You knew you shouldn’t be talking to a Flamer stranger. They were dangerous, and it was common knowledge that Icers and Flamers weren’t on the best terms as of late.

“I couldn’t be there anymore,” You whispered, just loud enough for him to pick up. At his raised eyebrows, you continued on. “I’m a healer. It was a lot of pressure not to mess up.”

He nodded, his curiosity getting the best of him. He stepped closer and asked, “Then why are you a healer?”

“Because I’m good at it.” The words came off far too snobbish for your liking, so you quickly added in a sheepish tone, “Also because I like helping people.”

The two of you fell into a queer silence, before he nodded, somewhat satisfied with your answer. The Flamer turned his back to you, “I best get going now. The lands aren’t going to patrol themselves. Run back to the rest of your people, Icer.”

You could feel his heat retract as he walked away. More snow fell to cover his tracks, as if the strange man with flaming eyes was never there.

It wasn’t until the same time the next day that you found yourself strolling towards the forest, back to the same spot last night, feet acting to their own accord. You paused in your steps when you realized where you were heading.

Would you really risk getting a Flamer angry at you for getting too close to their borders again? With not another thought, you pushed back the doubts and walked onwards… it wasn’t like you actually crossed the border. There was a large grey strip of forest land that belonged to neither tribe; it was far too costly to maintain and the forest gave them nothing but bugs and piles of dead leaves.

Much to your surprise, the man was already there, watching you with those glowing eyes of his. “What are you doing here?” He hissed.

“I can ask you the same thing,” You retaliated, arching an eyebrow.

The cold wind whistled as it blew past you, but you were planted firmly to the ground. He, on the other hand, grimaced quite obviously as the breeze tousled his neat hair about, sending dark strands careening into his eyes.

“I’m Y/N,” You said with a small smile. Although he pulsated with heat, that only made him feel the frigid sting of the cold wind all the more. At the sight of his shivering form, you wondered just how bad a Flamer can be.

He eyed you suspiciously before stepping forward quite boldly, sticking out a hand, “I’m Seonghwa.”

There was a strange arrhythmic thump in your chest. Now that he was so close to you, the lilith-hued snow around your feet started to wilt away as well, your cheeks flushing at the sudden rise in temperature. Icers weren’t very good with heat, that was obvious.

And when you took his hand, it was as if he was the coldest thing you’ve ever touched. But that couldn’t be it… you couldn’t really feel the cold much. Nonetheless, you gripped his palm unflinchingly, staring him dead in the eye. It became like some sort of challenge, but the both of you knew that you had obviously won. Seonghwa winced at how freezing your fingers against his were.

“Do you come here everyday?” The Flamer asked once he retracted his hand from yours to shove into the warmth of his pocket.

“Yesterday was my first time. I wasn’t planning on coming back today, but I just ended up here on instinct.” Your boot scuffed the pristine snow, avoiding the way his gaze seemed to quite literally burn holes into you.

Seonghwa frowned slightly. Funnily enough, the same exact thing had happened to him. He wasn’t on patrolling duty today, so really, he had no cause to be out here. He could be curled up with a book in front of a nice, warm fire, instead of standing in the snow with an Icer, of all people. Gods, he must be crazy.

“So… what are you doing here?” Your seemingly innocent question had Seonghwa struggling for words.

In all honesty, he had been curious whether or not you’d come back. An Icer healer in the Grey Forest was more than enough to pique his interest. Nothing remotely gripping ever happened in the Fire Tribe (other than the various men and women who threw themselves at him whenever they got the chance). He hadn’t actually expected you to come back.

“I’m… hunting.”

“It’s illegal to hunt outside of your tribe lands, everybody knows that.”

“Who said I was hunting for an animal?” Seonghwa crossed his arms over his chest to try and look somewhat menacing, but you just grinned. “I was looking for a book I lost.”

You hummed slightly, “Right.” As you waved your arm about, little snowflakes seemed to trail after you, and Seonghwa watched in masked fascination. “Can’t you just admit that you came to see me again?”

“Who’s to say that it’s not you coming to see me?”

“Hmm, let’s just say we both came to see each other. I’ve never seen a Flamer up this close before.”

Seonghwa blinked down at you with wide eyes, as if realizing just how small the distance between the two of you was. His cheeks reddened quickly as he cleared his throat into a fist, stepping backwards and almost slipping on more snow. When he attempted to sidestep the large wet puddle he’d created because of his rippling heat, his foot caught onto a tree root and he tumbled backwards. Snowflakes clung onto his dark hair and he shivered yet again. You tried to conceal your sniggers behind a palm, but Seonghwa still seemed to notice, his blazing eyes narrowing in mock-offense.

“You’re enjoying this,” He stated with an accusatory tone.

“Of course I am,” You replied through muted laughs. “I’m sorry. I would help, but I’m afraid I’d only make it worse.” To emphasize your point, you shook your hands slightly, blue crystals of snow whirling about.

Seonghwa’s fiery eyes seemed to soften at this. He pushed himself up to his feet, now shivering so harshly that you could hear his teeth chatter. You’d only known this Flamer for less than two days and yet he’d already managed to tug at your heartstrings.

“You should go back and get warm. I’ve read about Flamers and their immune systems… you guys are absolute babies when it comes to the cold.” Out of instinct, you reached out to touch his arm, like you did to most sick patients. But of course, you paused just before the tips of your fingers brushed against his jacket, curled your hand into a palm and forced it back down to your side. “I wouldn’t want you getting a fever just to see an ordinary Icer.”

Seonghwa cracked a half of a smile, shaking his head in disbelief.

But when he spun on his heel to leave, you called out before you could stop yourself, “Will I ever see you again, Seonghwa?” He stopped in his tracks without turning to looking at you. Stomach coiling into a tight knot of tension, you awaited in the palpable silence, a heavy lump forming in your throat.

“Next time, let’s go somewhere a bit warmer, yeah? Meet me closer to Flamer territory, by the river next to the largest tree in the Grey Forest. If you get to see me shiver, I get to see you sweat, Icer.” And then he continued on his way, until his lithe form disappeared behind the misty haze and the frosted shrubbery.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Just what were you thinking, agreeing to meet with a Flamer? Were you always this stupid or had you just realized now? You couldn’t believe you were spending your free time with some random Flamer from the Fire Tribe.

Thoughts of doubt swirled about in your head as you wove your way through the Grey Forest. The low rumbling of the river had you gulping down a large lump in your throat. It was already far too warm for you liking, the little snowflakes that buzzed around your head slowly melting away in water droplets. You didn’t think you’ve ever been this nervous before; not even back when you performed your first major surgery. There was just something about Seonghwa that you couldn’t stay away from… like when your Nan used to tell you no sugar candies before bed, it only made you crave for them all the more.

By the time you spotted Seonghwa leaning against the large tree, you were panting heavily, perspiration marring your skin.

“Fancy seeing you here,” The Flamer chimed, seeming to be in a much better mood now that the tables have turned. He seemed quite at ease, not a bead of sweat to be seen. “Already worked up quite a sweat, have we?”

Pathetically, you lifted your arm to conjure a small snowball, proceeding to press it against your head for cool relief. It quickly melted into a slushy of ice and water, dripping down your hair. You frowned, while Seonghwa grinned in return.

“Not so fun, is it?” He teased while you kicked off your boots and dipped your feet into the river, moaning in relief at the slightly cooler temperature of the water. You wished to make it colder, but much to your disappointment, the water wouldn’t crystalize because of how quickly it was rushing by.

Seonghwa crouched next to you, but still kept a decent length away, picking up rocks to skip across the river. For that, you were grateful, because if he made you any warmer than you were at that moment, you would’ve gotten up and stormed back to Icer lands.

“The first time we met,” You started after flicking water onto your face to cool down, making Seonghwa glance at you with curious eyes. “You were telling me to go back to my territory. But now, you made me come closer to Flamer lands. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. “You’re just… not what I thought an Icer would be like. It made me curious.”

“And what did you think we’d be like?”

A small shrug lifted his shoulder, “Cold. I mean, not that you aren’t, but cold as in… your hearts would be frozen over as well. I grew up with stories of Icers freezing Flamers to death and placing them in their gardens as statues. But you don’t seem like you’d do that kind of stuff. Especially when you told me that you were a healer.”

“For me, everybody knew the story of how the Fire Tribe would lock the Icers they captured in a sealed room, and the snow they made would melt and they’d slowly watch as the room filled with water, unable to turn it into ice because it was too damn hot. And eventually… they’d drown.” At the last few words, you frosted over your fingers and dunked them beneath the waters’ surface.

Seonghwa’s horrified expression made you chuckle slightly.

“Well, for the record, we don’t do that. We aren’t barbarians.” His words were said huffily as he crossed his arms and turned fully to fix his rapt gaze on you.

“I know. It was merely a silly childhood legend.”

The hours dribbled away fairly quickly, you and Seonghwa exchanging tales of your childhood that only increased in absurdity the farther you recounted. He told you about his friend, San, and how they once snuck into Wind Tribe territory to steal rare Gustberries that only grew in the harsh fields of the Breezers. You told him of Hongjoong and Wooyoung, the former being your closest friend and the latter constantly getting himself hurt. Laughs and giggles and the quiet hum of the river filled the silences in between the gaps of your vivid conversations. The more time you spent talking with him, the more you found yourself growing fond of the fiery-eyed man. Who would’ve thought?

By the time the sun had already set, you and Seonghwa were sitting much closer than when you had first sat down, his heat pulsating through the air in waves. To be honest, you didn’t quite mind the subtle warmth after you got used to the initial shock, but you knew you were pushing your limits. An Icer shouldn’t be out in high temperatures for this long.

You pushed yourself up to your feet, head swimming dizzily as you sucked in lungfuls of air. Slightly concerned, Seonghwa reached out to help you find your feet, but he pulled away at the last moment, just as you had last night. The tables really have turned, you thought in mild amusement.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine…” You swayed on your feet slightly, pressing your cooler palm against your warmer-than-usual forehead.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the cold. You guys are absolute babies when it comes to the heat.” He said, mimicking the same exact words you told him yesterday. A weak laugh slipped past your lips, as you leaned against a tree branch.

Oh, everything was just too hot. You’ve been out of the snow for too long…

All of a sudden, the world was flipped onto its side, damp grass pressing against your face. You could barely register Seonghwa startled yelp before everything went dark.

“Hey. Icer, are you okay? Icer! Y/N, come on, I put you back in the snow, I don’t know what else to do.”

Though your head pounded as though someone had whacked you with a tree branch, you could just barely make out Seonghwa’s concerned tone. When your eyelids fluttered open, you were met with the sight of the Flamer’s handsome, yet alarmed face.

“You okay?” His words came gentle and soothing.

Puffing out a small sigh, you nodded tiredly. Being back in the snow felt much better, “Yeah. Thank you,” You croaked out sheepishly.

Seonghwa beamed down at you, before shuffling away so as the snow around you wouldn’t melt. But just as soon as the smile graced his features, it quickly dissipated into a frown, “Don’t scare me like that,” He practically scolded. “You win, okay? Next time we can stay in the snow.”

Breath caught in your throat, a heavy blush laid over your cheeks, “Next time? You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

“No, I suppose not,” Seonghwa said somewhat nonchalantly, shocking you.

“I… well, thank you for the, well… uhm, getting me back,” You stumbled over your words the longer Seonghwa stared. Oh, what was this man doing to you? “I have some… healer things I need to do… so, I best get going… erm -” Without another thought, you pushed yourself onto your knees, snow crunching underneath your breeches as you leaned over towards him.

He was so warm. His face, especially, once you brushed your far-cooler lips against his cheekbone. The Flamer reared back with a ridiculous, startled expression, eyes comically wide. One of his hands came up to clamp against the cheek you kissed, mouth opening and closing but no words coming out.

“It was really nice talking to you. Thank you again,” You murmured while hiding a grin behind your palm. With that, you turned on your heel and left the blushing Flamer alone in the snow.

From then on, you saw Seonghwa practically every day. Oftentimes, you’d meet in the snow and stroll through the Grey Forest until it got far too warm and the both of you would have to turn back. The moment he’d see your skin dampen with sweat, he’d have the two of you abruptly changing course, steering away from the heat of the Fire Tribe. You thought that was incredibly thoughtful of him.

Once, Seonghwa discovered a more shallower part of the river that you could actually crystalize to keep yourself cool. That day was a good day. You had gently taken his scorching hand and tried to help him run across the ice before his heat could melt it away. The two of you left soaking wet, boisterous grins painted across your lips.

Hongjoong, being your closest friend and all, was constantly questioning and badgering on about where you went every afternoon. After all, you were a healer and your tribe needed you. But, however selfish it was, you didn’t want to stop seeing Seonghwa… he made you feel things no person from the Ice Tribe had ever made you feel.

The more you saw him, the more you had the urge to yank his stupidly sharp jawline towards you and shove your lips onto his. You’d imagine the way the warmth radiating off his skin would feel underneath your frigid palms and lips. You thought back to the second-long cheek kiss you gave him a couple months back, a fond smile tickling at the corner of your mouth.

“What’re you thinking about?” Seonghwa asked from beside you, nudging you slightly. Over a long course of time, the pair of you grew more and more comfortable with one another, inching closer and closer with each meet-up. At this point, you were practically sitting on top of him, one of his legs intertwined with yours and your head laying on his shoulder, the both of you leaning against a frosted tree trunk. Seonghwa smelled of sweet, burning sugar with a heavier scent of roasted coffee beans. He also often complained about how cold you were, although his tone was always fairly light and lacked any true bite.

“Nothing,” You were quick to say, pulling your head away from his shoulder to peer up at him.

Shrugging off your strange attitude, Seonghwa glanced down at you with excited eyes, “You wanna see a new trick I learned?”

Without awaiting your answer (because he knew you’d say yes anyway), Seonghwa cupped his hands together and pulled them away to produce a thin orange flame morphed into the shape of a shooting arrow. You watched in rapt fascination as the fire-arrow spun in the air when Seonghwa whistled sharply. Then, he pushed it away to embed itself into the tree across from you. The tree’s dry bark was quick to catch aflame, but you flicked your hands and caged in the fire with frost, the orange dying out into the blackened wood.

“Learned that during archery,” Seonghwa beamed down at your bemused expression. “You know, only the best Flamers can morph their fires into shapes. It takes a lot of concentration.”

With no effort at all, you twirled your fingers to make an intricate rabbit out of ice, whiskers and fur and all, holding it out to Seonghwa with a minuscule smile. The Flamer scowled slightly, and touched the tip of his finger to the clear crystal, watching it dribble into liquid through the gaps of your palms.

You rolled your eyes to the side before leaning your head back onto his shoulder with a content sigh, “Don’t you compete with me, Park Seonghwa. You’ll never win.”

Much to your surprise, he didn’t bother to argue, and instead pressed his warm nose into your frosty hair, humming, “Yeah, yeah. And who was the one that fainted in the heat again?”

“If I recall correctly, you’ve caught more than three colds just this year! And it’s only the fifth moon, too!”

His hands suddenly darted out to tickle your midriff, to which you squirmed away with a smothered laugh.

“Hm, wanna put it to the test? I promise I’ll go easy,” You said teasingly once you managed to capture his wrists. You could feel his pulse rapidly thumping against the pad of your thumb.

“I don’t know… I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“Trust me, you’re not the one that’ll be hurting.”

“Oh, you’re on, Icer.”

The two of you stumbled onto your feet and you held yourself up in a defensive stance. With a faint smile, Seonghwa mimicked your position. Admittedly, it wasn’t a very fair fight; you were a healer and he was a well-trained fighter.

But nonetheless, you were the first to throw, a frozen ball of ice the size of your fist hurtled towards him at top speed. Seonghwa was quick to react, blasting the ice with orange flames until it melted mid-air. You frowned and lithely dodged behind a tree when he reconjured his fire arrows and sent them after you. In retaliation, you quickly brought up a thick ice barrier with a laugh, smothering the thin lines of fire away with the sole of your boots.

The air was chock-full of his crackling flames muted by your snow, crystalline icicles dripping from nearby tree branches, and lame taunts tossed back and forth by the both of you as you play-fought for another couple of minutes.

Seonghwa might’ve had the upper hand in combat, but you knew how to play dirty. Just as he was stepping forward, you sent a sheet of slippery ice to slide underneath his boots. With a bewildered expression, Seonghwa flailed about for a moment, the small fire he prepared in his palm dying down to glowing embers, before tumbling down into the snow.

“That was low, Y/N,” The Flamer huffed out whilst trying to catch his breath against the pale white mound of snowflakes, glaring at you with playfully narrowed eyes. You were glad to see that he wasn’t actually angry at you.

“Do you call defeat, Seonghwa? There’s no shame in admitting it, you know!” Your jaunts were light-hearted as you walked closer to him and Seonghwa found himself grinning despite the cold stinging his skin.

Sticking your hand out to help him up, Seonghwa eyed you for a moment with an indiscernible expression, his playful nature fading away into something you couldn’t quite decipher.

Instead of pushing himself up, he suddenly pulled you down with him, a startled shriek leaving your lips and echoing across the Grey Forest. You fell on top of him with a grunt of pain, meeting his glowing amber eyes with your confused ones. During your hazy moment of puzzlement, Seonghwa tugged you closer, his warm palms curled around your forearms gently.

And then, without further warning, he kissed you. This one was nothing like the first kiss you gave him. That one was merely an innocent peck on the cheek. But this one… this one held passion and furtive desire and yearning. The both of you most definitely wanted this, it was quite clear by now.

Your senses were overwhelmed in the best way possible. All you could smell was him, the heavy undertone of roasted coffee beans sending your head into a cloudy daze. Your lips were slanted against his hot ones, noses of starkly opposite temperatures bumping against one another in your moment of desperation. You weren’t sure where to place your hands, so you balled them up against his jacket, just close enough to feel the hardness of his chest underneath.

For you, everything was hot, searing with a need for more as his plump, warm lips laid over yours. For him, however, everything was cold. The snow beneath was a mild annoyance, and yet he was willing to bear through it for you. You were equally freezing, but Seonghwa welcomed the cold for once, a dangerous ache that would grow to be lethal if neither of you were careful.

A small, frosty sigh left you when he pulled away for a second to stare at you with those intense eyes of his. You stared back with part-confusion and part-longing, lips agape. That apparently set something off in him, because he sat up with you straddling his hips, hands now encircled around your midriff as he kissed you more passionately, leaning forward so your back arched into him.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Why were you feeling these emotions for a Flamer of all people? Why couldn’t you have just stayed within your own tribe? Turmoil churned about in you as you kissed him in somewhat of a frantic manner. You hated yourself for loving it so much.

The second time he pulled away, you were both gasping for breath, lips swollen and clothes rumpled and askew. You could tell he wanted to kiss you again, and probably a thousand times after that. To be frank, that was all you wanted as well.

But you knew this had to stop. And so, when he leaned forward to capture your lips with his again, you flinched none-too-subtly and slid off his lap. An expression of genuine hurt flickered across his handsome, reddened features. A twinge of guilt gnawed away at your stomach as you got up onto your shaky feet.

“Go home, Seonghwa,” Was all you could find yourself saying with a hoarse voice. “You’re going to catch a cold again.”

You couldn’t look at him anymore. And so, you left him laying crestfallen in the snow, hurriedly making your way back to Icer lands, small blue snowflakes trailing behind you and cold tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

The next day, Seonghwa didn’t show up. You waited by your usual meet-up place, gnawing on your lip anxiously, glancing every which way in hopes of seeing the raven-headed Flamer. In the midst of your worrying turmoil, more and more snowflakes emanated from your skin and it didn’t take long for them to accumulate by your feet, completely covering your boots in a pristilline white blanket. You stepped out of the feather-soft pile, opting to impatiently trudge about in an attempt to steel your nerves.

You hadn’t been able to sleep that night. Seonghwa’s heartbroken expression was imprinted into your mind, leaving you in a mess of guilt and regret and anger.

Why did you have to push him away? Seonghwa, your first non-Icer friend, shoved away as if he meant nothing. You released a frustrated groan, smacking your palm into your forehead.

It made sense that he didn’t want to see you. If you were in his shoes, you probably wouldn’t leave your room and have the light of day touch your face for a whole moon. The idea of Seonghwa upset just didn’t sit right with you. Nonetheless, you could do little else than bide your time for him, however much you hated waiting.

He didn’t show up the next day either. Nor the one after that.

By the fourth day of waiting, you started to feel twinges of discouragement, but you never gave up, determined to set things right with Seonghwa. The niggling thought of him never showing up was one that often pestered you while you patiently awaited his return, although always quickly shoved down into the corner of your mind. You didn’t want to think about what you would do if you never saw him again.

It took just over a week of waiting for him to come back. At that point, you hadn’t thought he’d come back at all, reluctantly accepting that you’ve ultimately ruined your friendship with Seonghwa.

And so, imagine your surprise when his voice rang out through the trees, your name rolling off his tongue smoothly, “Y/N.”

Startled, you flinched so hard that your head hit a branch that hung lowly on the icy tree you were sitting beneath. It reminded you so much of the first time you met him that you couldn’t help but crack a smile after your initial pained grimace.

“Seonghwa,” You gasped, eyes round with shock and mouth agape. “You’re… you’re back!”

The excitement in your voice didn’t go undetected by either of you, but his features were set in stone, unmoving and neutral. Those blazing eyes of his seemed to bore holes into you, and you felt strangely naked underneath his gaze. You noticed that his appearance was more disheveled than ever, eyebags dark and hair not neatly slicked back like usual. He looked broken, but far too proud to admit so.

“Seonghwa…?” You stepped closer, the frosted leafy foliage crumbling under the pressure. This man was someone you deeply cared about, and you knew he felt the same about you.

So why was he staring at you like you meant nothing to him?

A shiver ran down your spine, a sensation that only Seonghwa could bestow upon you. Which was ironic, because the cold feeling that tickled down your spine was ignited by a man with powers of fire and heat.

You and him didn’t belong together. That was clear as day by now.

“Seonghwa,” You mumbled again, reaching out to him once close enough.

He shut his eyes as if looking at you were torture. It stung more than you liked to admit, so you retracted your fingers, clenching them into a fist and dropping them back by your side awkwardly. The air was so tense, so utterly uncomfortable, you could feel the crack in your heart splinter into more branches.

“Stop saying that.”

“Saying what?” Your bottom lip trembled. This wasn’t the Seonghwa you’ve grown to be so fond of. This man scared you. You had half a mind to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense back into him. Where did your Seonghwa go?

An angry huff escaped his lips, misting visibly out of his carmine lips. The very ones you kissed a little over a week ago.

“You can’t… just… don’t say my name. Please. We can’t be like that anymore. We can’t do this. We can’t keep seeing each other.” Seonghwa’s stoic mask disintegrated into raw emotion. He looked to be on the verge of tears, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you mirrored the same exact expression.

There was a part of you that wanted to yell and scream and throw sharp icicles at him until he had no choice but to run back to Flamer territory. Anywhere, as long as it was far away from you. The other, more rational part of you, whispered that he was right. After all, you were the one that pushed him away first. It was only fair.

A broken bone won’t heal if you keep putting pressure on the wound. Being a healer, you couldn’t just ignore your own teachings.

But for just once in your life, you wanted to be selfish. You wanted to hold Seonghwa tightly in your grasp, no matter how dangerous it was. You wanted to call him yours, and you wanted to be his. You wanted to kiss him again, despite the small action being the ultimate downfall for the both of you.

And so you found yourself croaking out, making sure to emphasize his name, “Seonghwa, you know just as much as I do that there’s something here between us. You can’t just ignore it and toss that all out the window!”

His face screwed up in an effort to keep the onslaught of tears at bay. Perhaps what he felt for you wasn’t yet as strong as what he’d call love, but he wasn’t very far from it. He cared too much for you, so much more than anybody else in his life.

He needed you. And because of that, he had to let you go. Fraternizing with the enemy wasn’t something to be taken lightly. If his tribe knew about this little escapade of his, they’d have his head and would finally have a good enough reason to declare war. Regardless, it was only a matter of time. The Fire Tribe has hated Icers for centuries and centuries, teetering on the brink between neutrality and complete bloodshed.

“We have no choice,” The words were said in a low tone, rumbling deep down in his chest. Seonghwa shuffled closer, so close that you could feel his familiar heat wavering against the ice once again. You longed to reach out and place your hand on his chest, feel his heart thumping against his ribcage frantically, just as yours was. “Do you know what they’d do to you - to us - if our tribes found us together? It’s too risky, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”

“I’m a healer. I can take care of myself! And we can just stay careful like we always have. Besides, people rarely come into the Grey Forest anymore!” Your words came out fast and jittery and panicked. You thought that you had already come to terms with losing the man that stood in front of you, but you were far from acceptance, you knew that now.

Seonghwa carded a pale hand through dark strands of hair, “I’m sorry, were you not the one that told me to go back home? You started this. You wanted this!” He was so agitated that when he swung his arm back to his side, small crackles of fire lit up his fingers.

Something inside you snapped, “I most definitely did not! It was just… all too sudden and I needed time to think. Now that I’ve already thought, there’s no need for us to run away and never see each other again! You’re overexaggerating, Seonghwa.”

“No, you don’t get it. Don’t you know, Y/N? Our tribes are verging on war. We’re supposed to be enemies, you and I. Don’t be daft!” His voice raised a notch or two louder, and you found yourself shrinking into yourself.

Tears pricked your eyes and you looked away from his fierce gaze, “We don’t have to be a part of that. We can just -”

“Just what? Pretend? We can’t play picnic in the forest and act like our people aren’t planning to slaughter each other!”

“You know what?” You shouted so loudly that the birds nesting on treetops fluttered away, a mass of dark wings and agitated squawks. “If you want to walk away from this relationship, from me, then go ahead! I won’t stop you. Fuck you, Seonghwa. Fuck you for throwing this away the moment it became something more.”

“You were the first to push away!” He protested, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“Well, I’m sorry!” You cried out, furiously swiping away the tears that dribbled down your cheeks. “I’m sorry I was scared! I’m willing to try again, but you’re not giving me the chance. I waited for you every day, you know.”

“I know. I saw,” He said, suddenly quiet. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

The two of you stared at each other defiantly, heavy breaths misting the air in front of you. His nose was tinted a deep pink, no doubt because of the cold.

“I’m leaving,” Seonghwa said after a long while. “And you shouldn’t come back here. Ever. I need you to know, Y/N. I’m doing this because I care about you. I expect you to do the same for me.”

Then, after casting you a forlorn expression, he tore his blazing eyes away and stiffly swiveled around in the snow. A gust of wind tousled his hair and he blew out a sigh of pale white mist. The cold made his nose red, and you subconsciously noticed the way he shivered slightly, brushing snowflakes off his sleeve. You’d miss that.

You’d miss him.

His heat grew fainter as his long strides took him further away from you. Your tears had crystallized on your cheeks uncomfortably, a frozen reminder of what you’d lost. You had half the mind to storm right up to Seonghwa and force him to stay here, by your side. That was the child speaking within you, however, and you were no longer a child.

Flicking the solidified salt water on your cheeks away, you did just the same as Seonghwa had minutes ago, trudging your way back to Icer lands. Little did either of you know, the two of you cried fresh tears along the whole journey back.

The last time you ever stepped foot in the Grey Forest was just the day after. Your eyes were puffy and aching, hair a terrible mess, and a wax-sealed envelope was tightly clutched in your hand.

There was a chance that Seonghwa would never come back. In fact, it was most probable that he’d never get the precariously written letter you left by the usual meeting place, considering what he told you yesterday.

Fond memories sunk its sharpened claws into you, stealing away your breath as you cupped both hands over your mouth, overwhelmed in every way possible. You were far too drained to cry, having emptied away all your tears the day before.

And so, you brushed stray snowflakes off the periwinkle-hued wax stamp, placing it down by the tree stump where Seonghwa usually sat.

Then you muttered a quiet, broken goodbye, stomping back to Icer lands. You were never going to see Seonghwa again.

Dear Seonghwa,

I know you told me to never come back. I won’t, I promise. I just wanted to leave the letter because… we never properly got to say goodbye, did we?

Well, congrats, you big dummy. You’re right. You always were, and you always are. We were never supposed to be friends. I mean, I suppose we’re enemies now, aren’t we? It was quite the foolish fantasy we had going on there, huh? I get it, we have to stay loyal to our respective tribes, we can’t risk getting caught, so on so forth. I just hope that when war is declared (which doesn’t seem to be long from now, to be quite honest), I won’t see you on the battlefield. I don’t think I’d be able to handle that.

So, I guess this is goodbye. It’s a little hard to believe that I won’t ever get to see your stupid face again. Remember when I threw a snowball at you so hard that it broke your nose? You panicked and blood went splattering everywhere and it didn’t stop until I got you to calm down. For a highly-ranked Flamer soldier, I’d expect you to be less squeamish at the sight of your own blood. It’s alright, though. As a healer myself, blood still freaks me out just a bit.

I thought I ruined your pretty face for all the poor ladies and gents who were mad in love with you back at the Flame Tribe, and I felt so guilty. And then you smiled! I remember feeling envy and astonishment at the same time because how the hell could one look pretty while smiling through a broken, bloody nose?

I’m glad I didn’t ruin your face, though. You’d probably get really mad at me if I did. But you would’ve forgiven me eventually, right?

Frankly, I don’t know if I deserve your forgiveness for what I did. And no, I’m not talking about hurting your precious face (they say a once-broken nose makes a man more attractive!). I’m sorry for pushing you away, Seonghwa. Really, I don’t know what I was thinking. I was scared and I needed time to think. I hope you understand that. If you don’t, that’s okay as well.

If I could rewind time, I wouldn’t have stopped kissing you. I could’ve carried on for days and days and days on end. Did you know that you’re the second person I’ve ever kissed? Don’t ask about the first, drunk Wooyoung isn’t really something to brag about. Well, for the record, you were the first kiss I actually enjoyed. Congrats.

Of course, all this doesn’t mean that it was entirely my fault. I waited for you for a week, and you did nothing but hide behind trees and watch. That was real shitty of you, to put it plainly.

I’ll miss you, though. I’ve never felt this way about any Icer and I doubt I ever will. Of all people to set my sights on, it just had to be a Flamer. What rotten luck we have.

Goodbye forever, Seonghwa. Stay safe, alright? For my sake.

With much love,

Y/N.

Seonghwa read the letter through so quickly that his pupils seemed to be moving at lightning speed. Then, with a numbed heart, he read it a second time, this time much slower.

By the third time he reread each of your carefully handwritten words, warm tears of salt water were running over his cheeks. His face had grown considerably hotter, the salty liquid steaming misty tendrils against his skin. He was angry. So, so ridiculously angry. At himself, at this stupid rivalry between the tribes, at you for being so goddamn perfect. Of course you’d managed to squeeze in jaunts and jokes in a farewell note.

There was a part of him that wished he’d never come back to the Grey Forest and found the letter. Fat droplets of his tears trickled down his jaw and soaked through the parchment, marring the intricate ink characters. With a gentle sigh, Seonghwa brushed the dampness away and stiffly flicked his wrist.

The letter burst into glowing orange flames. And Seonghwa watched on, stifling down the urge to break down into a fit of chest-wracking sobs, until your goodbye was nothing but a measly pile of blackened ashes on his palm.

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hrina · 4 years ago

Text

The Thrill of the Chase, Pt. I

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 3.6k REQUESTED: no

hi! it’s been a while since i’ve posted something on here lol, i wonder if anyone still remembers me 🤕

this is PART 1 of the hunter!AU that i’ve been writing. while the story is a patreon-exclusive, my patrons gave me permission to post the first chapter here on tumblr for anyone who’s curious about the kind of content i offer on patreon.

if you want to read the rest of this series and unlock access to my other exclusive work, you can sign up for my patreon here. and as always, please reblog the fics you like and leave feedback for the authors, because we pour a lot of time and effort into our stories. happy reading 💌

~*~

Harry’s life is simple.

He performs only the essentials—wakes up and eats an apple for breakfast. Drizzles some lemon juice into his flask of water to keep his teeth healthy and clean. Shrugs on a few heavy furs. Lets Magnus outside to keep him from howling and pawing at the door. Sharpens his arrows. Knocks on the threshold of the cabin once for good luck. Goes hunting.

Upon returning, he crouches next to the firepit, laying out his kills and skinning them. He cooks one for himself—something small, like a squirrel, or a rabbit. Others, he saves for the market—fox, deer, coyote, boar. The pelts, tusks, and antlers are extremely sought-after (particularly by nobles), and often earn enough coin to carry him through the rest of the week.

He doesn’t entertain visitors, because who in their right mind would trek up the side of a mountain just to seek out one lonely hunter? Despite that, he’s come to appreciate his solitude. The silence is familiar—comfortable. Besides, Magnus proves both excellent and useful company, if the sheer volume of their kills offers any indication.

A simple life for a simple man.

Harry doesn’t need anyone else.

“Ready to go, mutt?”

He scratches behind Magnus’ droopy ears. One of the hound’s hindlegs thumps frantically in response. Harry chuckles, slinging his bow over his right shoulder and pulling open the cabin door.

“Come on, then.”

The sky is a dark, cloudy grey, and the smell of oncoming rain is unmistakable. Still, the two of them persevere, ducking past the trees at the edge of the clearing.

It’s a bad day to hunt.

With the threat of a storm looming just above the canopy, the animals have forgone their typical foraging patterns in favour of taking shelter. Harry only manages to kill a rabbit, and even then, it’s a messy shot. He usually gets them right through the eye—a quick, neat splice that results in minimal suffering. This time, however, his foot slips on a damp stone; he fumbles, and the arrow buries itself into the creature’s stomach.

“Fuck.”

The rabbit is still alive when he reaches it, its furry body heaving with shaky, uneven breaths. Harry kneels down, apologising quietly. His hand finds the scabbard strapped to his waist, and he draws a silver dagger from its depths.

He slits the poor hare’s throat just as rain begins to fall.

It’s easy work, after that. He pins the animal’s fluffy forelimbs together, tying them in place with thick, coarse rope. Magnus whimpers as Harry slides the creature’s limp body over his shoulder. He shoots the hound a tired look and shakes his head. Damp brown curls stick to his temples.

“Think that’s enough for today.”

The two of them have nearly made it back home—Harry’s boots squelch as he jumps over the small creek that flows close to the clearing—when Magnus perks up, lifting his snout and sniffing the air.

“What is it, mutt?” Harry asks.

Magnus releases a loud bark and takes off in the direction of the cabin. Harry sprints after him, one hand clutching his game while the other wraps around the leather grip of his bow.

“Magnus!” he yells.

The dog skids to a stop next to the wide trunk of a tree. He barks again and wags his tail feverishly.

Harry releases his bow, approaching with slow, cautious steps.

“What’s got you so—shit.”

You’re slumped in the mud, unconscious. Harry’s gaze rakes over your form, from your tattered blue gown to the leaves and twigs tangled in your hair. There are a few cuts littered across your face, arms, and chest. Rivulets of blood trickle down your wrist, spiderwebbing across your skin.

Magnus sticks his tongue out and pants.

“Good boy,” Harry mutters, bestowing a rugged caress atop the hound’s head.

He gathers you into his arms, paying no mind to the extra weight of your sodden dress. Your neck lolls over his bicep, sternum rising and falling with shallow, barely-there breaths. Harry carries you out of the forest and into the clearing. When he kicks open the cabin door, your eyelids flutter.

“Bear?” you mumble, lifting your head slightly. Your voice is grating, hoarse.

He looks at you. Your face contorts for only a moment before you slouch back into oblivion.

He sets you down onto the thick, woven rug splayed out in front of the hearth. He works quickly, shrugging off his furs and his game and discarding all of it without a second thought. Rain thrums against the roof, but the sound is lost amidst his heavy footsteps.

He hurries into his bedroom and pulls open the top drawer of his wooden dresser, fumbling for a glass jar and a spool of bandages. When his fingers finally make contact with the desired supplies, he darts back into the other room and kneels beside your motionless body.

He draws his dagger again, gripping the intricate material of your gown and slicing through it. Your corset proves far more challenging, practically embedded into your skin. He sets his knife aside, not willing to risk it. Instead, he hooks his fingers beneath the top of the girdle, rough knuckles brushing against your soft bosom. With a mighty tug, the structured fabric splits under his palms.

He screws open the lid on the jar and dips his thumb inside. The salve is sticky, viscous, and smells faintly of lavender. He smears it across your scrapes before inspecting your wrist.

The flesh is slashed and bloodied—how did you acquire such an injury? Canines? Claws? Harry uses the frayed edges of your dress to clean the mess. He then unwinds a few bindings from their roll, expertly bandaging your wound.

Once he’s finished, he sits back on his haunches, expelling a stale breath. His work is far from over—he needs to wash you, to scrub off all the dirt and grime staining your skin. He’ll go down to the creek with a cloth, he thinks, and saturate it with cool water. He’ll pick the leaves and branches out of your hair, and cover you in spare furs to keep you warm. He’ll prepare a hot meal so that you may eat when you wake. You’ll be ravenous, certainly.

These thoughts whirl around in his head, along with the realisation that you might expire here, lying on an old rug in the middle of a stranger’s secluded home. Still, he watches your chest rise, swelling with proof of your vitality. The sight puts him at ease.

Harry aims a cursory glance over his shoulder. Magnus is stationed at the door, wet snout resting on the ground. The dog gazes at your limp body with big, solemn eyes, as though he somehow understands the severity of the situation.

“Don’t worry, mutt,” Harry tells him, knees shuffling against the floor. “I won’t let her die.”

~*~

Three days pass.

Harry curtails the duration of his hunts. He kills only the essentials: a hare or a squirrel, something small enough to cook over the fire. He has enough coin saved up from his previous trades to last him another few trips to the market.

Every morning, he prepares a simple, homely meal for you should you wake. When you do not, he eats the food in your place—he’ll be damned if it goes to waste.

On the fourth day, he carries a bowl of soup into his room. He’s expecting to see you tucked into his bed, still unconscious. Instead, you’re alert, sitting upright and studying your surroundings. The furs that previously covered your body now pool around your waist, exposing your naked chest. When you catch sight of Harry lingering in the doorway, you gasp, fumbling for the pelts and clutching them to your sternum.

“You’re up,” he says gruffly, stepping through the threshold.

You scramble back, eyes widening in fear. He pauses.

You’re afraid, he realises, tilting his head to the side. This may be more difficult than he initially thought.

“Soup,” he says slowly, holding out the small clay bowl in his hands. “You need to eat.”

“Who are you?” you ask. Your voice is patchy and frail. “Where am I?”

He sets the dish down onto his dresser before shooting you a stern, expectant look.

“Eat.”

Upon exiting the room, he strains his ears and listens carefully. The creak of a loose floorboard—you’ve climbed out of bed. The sound of nimble footsteps pattering across the ground—you’re moving toward the door. And finally, the quiet scrape of clay against wood, indicating that your hunger has prevailed.

He nods to himself.

You’re not dead. That’s a start.

~*~

That evening, Harry is perched next to the firepit outside the cabin. The orange sun crawls down the horizon, kissing the tops of the trees. He basks in the warmth, knowing that it will soon be eradicated by the cool chill of nightfall.

He fiddles with the spit poised above the flames. He caught another rabbit, today. The creature’s fur is laid out across the grass, scrubbed clean of blood. The rest of it cooks over the fire, darkening with each passing minute.

A faint creak reaches Harry’s ears. He perks up, glancing at the door.

You hover just beyond the threshold, leaning nervously against the strong wooden beams. Harry relaxes and turns back around. He uses a long stick to poke at the charred logs; the kindling pops, and a few embers float into the air.

“What are you doing?” Your inquiry is soft, shaky.

His reply is curt: “Dinner.”

You approach warily, bare feet treading through the grass. When you spot the hunk of meat roasting over the flames, a feeble gasp tumbles from your lips.

“That’s barbaric.”

Harry rubs his palms against his thighs. “That’s sustenance.”

He stands, and you retreat. His attention then falls to your torso. You’ve covered yourself with the furs from his room; they hang just past the swell of your bottom, rendering you exceptionally vulnerable. Goosebumps crop up on your bare thighs, visible in the golden light of the sunset.

He hums. “You need clothes.”

You look down at the ground.

“That would be nice,” you whisper at last.

He merely grunts in response.

You follow him back inside, albeit from a distance. He strolls into his bedroom, pausing in front of a large trunk shoved against the far wall. Twin latches click open, and he begins rifling through its contents. After a few moments of silence, he produces a pale linen shirt and a pair of dark leather trousers.

“Here,” he says.

He dumps the fabric into your arms. You huff in surprise, instinctively relinquishing your hold on the pelts covering your body. They fall to the floor in a heap, exposing every inch of your skin.

An embarrassed squeak echoes in the back of your throat. Harry averts his eyes, staring pointedly up at the ceiling.

“Put those on,” he murmurs.

You nod quickly, sidestepping his broad frame. Now that you’re no longer in his line of sight, he lowers his gaze. Part of him wonders if he should say something else, but he decides against it. His legs carry him forward, and he disappears through the door.

~*~

You emerge from the bedroom a short while later, smoothing your hands over your hair in an attempt to look a bit more presentable. Harry resists the urge to tell you that here, in the mountains, appearances are hardly significant. He doesn’t own a mirror—such luxuries can only be afforded by the rich.

His clothes are too big on you, but that was to be expected. You’ve rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt and cuffed the brown leather trousers so that they cinch at your ankles. You’re anxious, incisors gnawing on your bottom lip and eyes darting around the clearing, like you’re waiting for a monster to burst forth from the bushes.

“Here.”

Harry cuts a sliver of meat from the cooked rabbit carcass resting on the spit. You sit down on a wide, round tree stump as he holds the food out in your direction.

At first, he thinks that you may vomit. Fortunately, though, he finds himself mistaken. After a long moment of deliberation, you accept the protein, bringing it up to your nose and sniffing it warily.

“It’s good,” he rasps, slicing off another strip for himself. “Rabbit—all white meat.”

He pops the piece into his mouth and chews. Slowly, you copy him, sighing happily as newfound flavour erupts over your tongue. You waste no time, then, impatiently shoving the rest of the meat into your mouth.

Harry’s lips twitch.

“Thank you,” you say after swallowing.

He simply nods. The two of you continue to eat in silence, grinding the remnants of supper between your teeth.

Eventually, your curiosity overwhelms you.

“What’s you name?” you ask, timid.

Harry sits back, wiping his dagger with the hem of his cotton shirt.

“Harry.”

“And how did you find me, Harry?”

A low chuckle resonates in the back of his throat.

“Wasn’t exactly hard. You were lying in a puddle of mud not far from here.”

Your lips part. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Three days.”

“Three days?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t remember any of it,” you say softly, playing with your fingers. You hesitate before elaborating: “But I—I remember seeing your face. I thought you were a bear.”

He recalls that day, how you lifted your head weakly and uttered the word before sinking back into unconsciousness. It led him to believe that you’d been attacked. Your side of the story, however, proves much more entertaining.

“Well,” he says, exhaling brusquely, “I’m not.”

You examine him with big, tender eyes. He shifts awkwardly under the intensity of your gaze.

“No,” you finally agree. “You’re not.”

He swallows and flips the conversation around.

“Who are you?”

You stiffen, caught off-guard.

“That is…hardly relevant.”

“Perhaps,” Harry says. “But it is fair.”

When you don’t reply, he continues.

“You’re a lady, aren’t you?” he guesses. “A duchess. Your gown was too pretty to have belonged to a commoner.”

“My gown?” You perk up at the mention of the dress. “Where is it?”

“Gone. I tore through it.”

You gasp. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“It was the only way to keep you alive,” he says simply. “Your corset was impeding your ability to breathe.”

“My corset…” you mutter, mostly to yourself. You grimace after registering the implications of his words, thoroughly scandalized. “So, you—you—?”

“Yes. I had to.”

“God,” you choke out, covering your mouth. “How dare you? You should have just—!”

“Let you die?”

His query successfully squashes your disapproval; your lips flatten into a thin line, and you say nothing else. Harry watches the creases in your forehead dwindle as you realise that he’s right. You fiddle with the collar of your shirt, turning to the side and regaining your composure.

“Thank you,” you finally murmur, trying to hide your face from his piercing stare, “for not letting me die.”

He grunts. “You’re welcome.”

Brief silence ensues. A light breeze blows through the clearing, tousling the curls atop Harry’s head. The gust is enough to extinguish the last few flames frolicking over the kindle, until glowing embers are all that remain.

“I am a lady,” you suddenly add, though you refuse to meet his eyes. “But not a duchess.”

Harry leans forward, prodding at the residual ash in the firepit.

“What were you doing in the woods?”

You tinker with the bandages wrapped around your injured wrist.

“I was to be wed,” you confess, peeking up at him. “But I—I could not bear to go through with it. One should not marry for duty, but rather—”

“For love?”

You pause at his intrusion, lips parted in surprise.

“Yes,” you breathe. “For love.”

Your gazes lock. He clears his throat, breaking the contact quickly.

“You ran away, then.”

It’s not a question. You nod, and he hums.

“What is it?” you ask, brows knitting together.

“Nothing. It’s just…I may find good fortune in this situation.”

“How so?”

He shrugs. “Any man with sense would carry you down this peak, deliver you back to your family, and collect a hefty reward.”

Though he’s not looking at you, he can tell that you’ve recoiled.

“Please don’t,” you whisper.

He examines your face in the periphery of his vision. Your eyes glisten with unshed tears.

Just then, Magnus races out of the cabin, his tail wagging eagerly behind him. He trots over to you, sniffing your shoulder and releasing a high-pitched whine. You use one hand to swipe hastily at your cheeks; the other migrates to his head, tickling his floppy ears.

Harry watches the interaction unfold, completely stunned.

“He—he likes you.”

You glance over at him, still wary of his previous threat.

“I suppose he does,” you say quietly.

Magnus paws at your thighs. You direct your attention back to the keen bloodhound, pressing a feathery kiss to the tip of his wet nose.

Harry blinks a few times, trying to pinpoint the reason for his mutt’s newfound behaviour. At first, he wonders if his eyes are simply playing tricks on his brain. Yet with each flutter of his lids, the sight before him only seems to solidify.

“He doesn’t usually take well to strangers,” he mumbles.

When you don’t respond, he clenches his jaw tightly. Countless thoughts zoom through his head, spinning like wheels, tangling like thread.

Any man with sense would carry you down this peak, deliver you back to your family, and collect a hefty reward.

Harry is not a sensible man.

~*~

The three of you retreat indoors when the last shards of sunlight fade from the sky. Magnus circles the large woven rug poised in front of the hearth. Eventually, he collapses onto the mat, his snout drooping over his front paws. You stretch your arms into the air and yawn gently.

Harry is the last one to enter the cabin; he shuts the door behind him.

“Thank you again for dinner,” you say lightly.

You spin around and nearly crash into the hard barrier of his chest. Reflexively, his hands fly up to grasp your biceps, steadying you. He peers down at your face in the darkness, his thoughtful gaze tracing the contours of your cheeks. Your eyes are wide, lips split apart as you suck in air.

“Sorry,” you say, frozen in place.

He only grunts, releasing your arms and stepping away.

Your attention lingers on him as he approaches a wide pile of furs stacked into the corner of the room. He’s been sleeping on the makeshift cot for the past three nights, and though his back is always sore the next morning, he has yet to find a better alternative.

“What are you…?” You hesitate, rethinking your question. “What is that?”

“My bed.”

“Do you…always sleep there?”

“No,” he rasps, lowering himself onto the thick pelts. “I prefer to sleep in my room.”

He shoots you a pointed look, and you frown when the realisation sinks in.

“We—we can switch,” you say, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t want to impose.”

“No.”

“I insist.” You try again.

“As do I.”

You clamp your mouth shut, unsure of how to respond. Magnus has already dozed off—his soft snores filter through the heavy silence hanging over your heads.

“He’s lovely,” you suddenly say, referring to the quiescent hound. “Well-trained, too.”

“I won’t take credit for that,” Harry grumbles, rubbing his palms against his thighs. “He was a palace dog.”

You blink. “W-what?”

“A palace dog,” he repeats. “I found him alone in the woods after a hunt. His leg was broken—the guards left him there to die.”

“That’s awful.”

He hums in agreement.

“You took him in, then,” you say. When he nods, you add, “It seems that you have a knack for nursing others back to health.”

He doesn’t reply.

“The hunts—” you start, chewing nervously on your bottom lip. “Do they…occur frequently?”

“Why do you ask?” Harry says. His shoulders wobble with a hollow chuckle. “Are you afraid of being caught?”

You inhale sharply, and he realises that yes, you are.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. Subconsciously, his voice drops an octave, taking on a soothing quality. “They don’t come around often. And even if they did, I doubt that a single runaway lady would be of much concern.”

You blow out a relieved sigh, though the uneasy expression on your face never wanes.

“You’re probably right.”

A few hushed seconds draw out, during which neither of you speak. Your bare feet shuffle clumsily against the cold floor. You appear to be waiting for some sort of cue—a sound, a gesture, anything.

“Er—” Harry breaks the peace, cocking one eyebrow. “I sleep naked.”

“Oh.”

The exclamation is unbelievably breathless. Your throat bobs amidst a difficult swallow, and you totter back.

“Of course,” you stammer. “I’ll just—”

With a trembling hand, you motion toward the entrance of his bedroom.

He nods wordlessly.

“Right,” you mumble, retreating. “Goodnight, then…Bear.”

At that, he pauses. Your cheeks twitch with a feeble smile, but you don’t comment on the sweetness of the simple endearment.

Harry remains completely still as you scurry into his room. He sits there for a prolonged moment after the door shuts, trying to make sense of his thoughts. Your features have been stamped onto the backs of his eyelids, practically seared into the skin.

At last, warm air spills past his lips, and he allows himself to utter the low, relentless reply pulling at his tongue.

“Goodnight.”

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #uhhhh yeah so here u go. if this flops it never happened i guess #hunterry #harry writing

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leossmoonn · 4 years ago

Text

Temptation

masterlist

pairing - silas x forbes,fem!reader

type - fluffy smut, angst

note / request - “can i request a silas fic where the reader is Caroline's lil sis and Silas likes to annoy her, and he likes her a lot. Then Care and Damon are always into protective sibling modes where silas is around y/n. So one day they catch y/n making out w him, and then theres a lot of banter again” this was really fun to write! im not gonna rewrite background info lol so make sure to read the request. also the timeline of events is a little fuzzy so i apologise if i make a mistake. enjoy :)

summary - damon and caroline find you making out with the enemy, who just happens to be silas

warnings / includes - language, sibling fighting, steamy make out, sexual tension heheh, you’re in your senior year of high school, suggestive

————

*gif isn't mine*

“Hello, doll face,” Silas greeted behind you.

You jumped at his voice, but quickly settled down. “Hey, Silas,” you said dully.

“Why the long face, princess?” Silas asked.

“Because you’re here,” you said. “Oh, that’s so mean. You’ve hurt my feelings,” Silas pouted.

“Well, I’m not supposed to be talking to you anyways,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“Ugh, you are such a goody two shoes. It’s cute, but annoying. Why not break the rules? I know you want to,” Silas said, leaning over the top of the couch, his face going right next to your’s.

You inhaled deeply, your heart pounding against your chest. You were attracted to him, no doubt about that, but if you even considered shaking his hand, Caroline and Damon would kill you. And you definitely didn’t want that.

“I can read your mind, Y/n. I know you want to kiss me, so go ahead,” he whispered.

You didn’t turn your head, but your eyes wandered to the left. You got a good view of his lips, which made butterflies flutter in your stomach. It was so tempting to close the gap between you two, but you knew better than that. You turned your head the other way, standing up from the couch. You packed up your school work, deciding to leave the Salvatore house and go to your own.

You were at the Salvatore house because Damon had offered to help you with your history homework. You took the offer and you two had been studying for a few hours. He had left you for 30 minutes to go and get you two lunch. In those 30 minutes, Silas had wandered into the house, looking for you.

You pulled out your phone, texting Damon to go to your house instead of back to his.

“Where are ya going?” Silas asked.

“Home,” you mumbled, keeping your head down and walking to the front door.

Silas stood in front of the door, making you look up at him with an annoyed frown.

“Please let me go,” you said.

“No, I’d rather see you beg,” Silas smirked. You rolled your eyes. “Please. Damon is waiting for me at my house with food.”

“Oh! Well, why don’t I just go with you, then? I’d love to see Damon.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you chuckled. “Why not? I can just pretend to be his brother! I’ve fooled lots of people already,” Silas smiled.

“I think Damon will notice. Especially if I’m there,” you said. “I’ll just sneak in then,” Silas suggested.

“No, Silas! I just want to go home alone. Leave me alone,” you said sternly, looking him straight in the eyes. You went to push him out of the way, but his hands grabbed ahold of your wrists. His strong grip made goosebumps rush up your forearms.

Silas couldn’t help but smirk. You rarely ever had outbursts. He thought it was incredibly sexy and cute when you put your foot down. Especially when it pertained to him.

“You are so adorable when you’re mad. You're so small, too. I can’t help but not take you seriously,” Silas chuckled.

Your eyes went wide and you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You masked your embarrassment by groaning and running your fingers through your hair in frustration. “Just let me go! Please. I’m hungry and tired and really need to study for my test.”

“What is your test over, anyways? History? Cause if so, I could help you out. I bet I know more than Damon,” Silas said.

“No thanks, bro, she’s all taken care of,” Damon said from behind Silas.

“You tattled that I was here! So naughty of you,” Silas glared at you playfully.

“Step out of the way, Silas. Otherwise I will snap your neck,” Damon sneered.

Silas sighed. “Fine! I’m only obeying because I want to kiss you before I die.”

“Fat chance of that. C’mon, Y/n. I got you a burger and those onion rings you like,” Damon said.

“Thanks, Damon,” you smiled gratefully at him.

“See you later, doll face!” Silas called out as you walked to your car.

“I’m sorry about him. I should make you the owner of the house,” Damon said.

You shrugged, “It’s alright. He would never actually hurt me.”

“Well, we don’t know that,” Damon said.

“Yes, we do. Sure, he might threaten to kill me sometimes, but his liking for me trumps any chance of him killing me. I don’t fear him, he’s just extremely annoying,” you said, getting in your car.

“Agreed,” Damon said.

You two drove to your house, eating lunch and studying for a few more hours. Caroline and Elena then came home, talking to you and Damon about a party at the Grill.

“Can I come?” You asked.

“Um, yeah, sure,” Caroline nodded.

You smiled excitedly. You barley went to any of these parties. You usually were at home studying or hiding away in your house because Caroline and Damon were always worried for you, but Caroline figured that since she and Damon and everyone else would be there, they would be able to protect you.

So you took a quick shower and got ready for the night. You put on ripped jeans and a black, spaghetti-strapped top with a jean jacket. You put on heeled boots and put on some silver jewellery, as well as lined your eyes with eyeliner and painted your lips red with lipstick.

“Oh, you look so cute!” Elena exclaimed as you walked out of your room.

“Thanks, Elena,” you smiled at her.

“No, go change,” Caroline said. “Why?” You frowned.

“Because Silas could be there and that outfit would tempt him even more,” Damon explained.

You rolled your eyes. “So when Klaus was here, Caroline could wear anything, but I guess since I’m younger and a human, I can’t? That’s so unfair.”

“She’s right, guys. I hate Silas as much as you two, but let her dress how she wants. We’ll be there to protect her. Plus, if Silas thinks she’s hot, then good for her. She is,” Elena agreed with you.

You smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she smiled.

“Ugh, fine! But no drinking, okay?” Caroline said.

“Ay, ay captain,” you said. You four went out to Elena’s SUV, driving to the Grill.

Loud music blasted into your ears as soon as you stepped inside. You smiled as you saw everything dancing and having the time of their life.

“Shots?” Caroline suggested.

“Hell yeah!” Elena squealed.

“Iced tea for you, Y/n?” Caroline asked. “Yes, please,” you nodded.

“Alright, you guys go to the pool table. I’ll be back,” Caroline said.

“Where is Stefan?” You asked, looking around the bar and walking to the pool table that was conveniently empty.

“Right here!”

You turned around, smiling once you saw Stefan in a grey shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. You went to hug him, but Damon stopped you.

“Ah, ah, ah. How do we know it isn’t Silas?” Damon asked.

Stefan rolled his eyes. He pulled out a blood bag from his pocket, taking it and drinking it quickly.

“Alright, alright, we know it’s you. Cool it on the blood, brother. Don’t want to go into a bloodlust,” Damon said, taking the empty bag and throwing it in the trash.

“Well, I don’t really know how else to prove I’m not Silas,” Stefan sighed. “Can I get that hug now?”

You smiled and nodded, wrapping your arms around him.

Between everyone else, Damon and Stefan were your best friends. They were like the brothers you’ve never had, protecting you and teasing you whenever they felt like it was necessary. You hadn’t seen Stefan in a while since he was found in the safe, but you were glad to see he was okay.

“Glad to see you’re okay, Stef,” you said, pulling back.

“And I’m glad to see you haven’t fallen victim to my doppelgänger,” Stefan smiled.

Caroline came back with shots, pleasantly surprised to see Stefan.

“Stefan! You’re here! Oh, my God the whole gang is here!” She squealed, putting down the shots and engulfing Stefan is a big hug.

“I’m excited to be here, too. This is the first time I’ve really gone out for fun. I hope nothing goes wrong,” Stefan joked.

“Well, if any of you spot Silas, make sure to not let him get close to Y/n. We don’t know what he could do to her,” Caroline said.

You rolled your eyes at her concern, but didn’t say anything. You knew it would end up with you two arguing and that was the last thing anything wanted. Forbes were very controlling and heated when they got angry.

You took your tea and sipped on it as Damon downed the first shot.

“Wait, are we playing in teams?” You asked.

“Yeah, which one do you wanna be one? Damon and I’s?” Stefan asked.

“Definitely yours,” you said. “Oh, what! You know I win all the time,” Damon said.

“Yeah, but when you lose you get so mad. It’s hilarious,” you giggled.

“True, it is cute,” Elena smirked.

Damon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You two are so annoying.”

You smiled and played with your friends for a little while. It came to a time where everyone was too tipsy to where they could barely walk, so you were in charge of getting the drinks. Damon and Caroline, despite being pretty much drunk, stayed close behind you.

“Hey, Matt,” you smiled at the boy working behind the bar. “Hey, Y/n! Let me guess, more shots and another iced tea?” He asked.

“You guessed right,” you chuckled.

“So, how is school?” He asked.

“Pretty good. History is kicking my ass, per usual. It’s weird because I’m surrounded by history buffs,” you said.

“Well, I know you have Damon helping you, but Stefan is a lot better at tutoring, in my opinion. I know he’s been having a rough time, though,” Matt said.

“He has, which is why I should be your tutor,” Silas smirked next to you.

You jumped slightly, surprised to see him there. You looked at him, seeing him wearing a dark navy shirt and jeans. Your eyes stared at his biceps and his strong, broad shoulders. Once you noticed him smirking at you, you looked back to the drinks Matt was filling.

“Now I get the silent treatment? C’mon, not fair,” Silas whined.

“You shouldn’t be here, man,” Matt said.

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about, it huh?” Silas taunted, looking at Matt with narrow, menacing eyes.

Matt rolled his eyes, putting the tequila shots and your drink on a tray and handing them to you.

“Thanks, Matt,” you smiled.

You took the tray, ready to turn around and walk away from Silas. He put his arm up, planning to grab your arm to stop you, but Caroline and Damon used their vamp speed to push him back.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Caroline sneered. Veins were circulating under her eyes and she bared her fangs.

Silas smirked, not at all fazed. “Oh, please, I could kill both of you so fast, you couldn’t have chance to say bye to Y/n. Now, let me go, Damon.”

Damon’s grip on Silas’s arms tightened. “Not a chance. We’re going outside and I’m gonna make sure you are far away from here.”

Damon then took Silas to the exit, Silas looking back at you and giving you a wink. Caroline groaned in disgust and took the tray away from you.

“You okay?” She asked.

“I’m fine, Care! He wasn’t going to hurt me,” you glared at her.

“You don’t know that! Why are you defending him? Doesn't he annoy you?” Caroline asked.

“Yeah, he does,” you said, your voice trailing off at the end, alluding to something else.

Caroline stared at you intensely, gasping once she put the pieces together. “You… You like him? Ugh, why! He’s a monster.”

“I don’t like him! God, why is that always your first assumption?” You asked.

“Because you obviously are having physical reactions to him. We all see the way you look down in shyness when he flirts with you, and we can hear your heart racing. We just hoped you wouldn’t give in,” Caroline sighed.

“I’m not! I don’t like him in any way, okay? Just because I defend someone doesn’t mean I automatically like them!”

“That’s what you always say! You need to get rid of those feelings, Y/n. He’s not a good person.”

You closed your eyes in frustration, sighing roughly. “I’m going to the bathroom to cool down. When I come out, you better not say anything else about me liking Silas.”

You spun on your heels, storming off to the bathroom. You washed your hands, putting them to your forehead to cool yourself down.

“Feelings for Silas, please,” you scoffed to yourself.

“She’s right. I know it, you know it. Everyone does.”

You looked in the mirror, jumping once you saw Silas behind you. You turned around quickly.

“H-How did you get in here?” You asked.

“I knocked Damon out,” he shrugged.

“What?! Is he okay?” You asked. “Yes, he’s fine. I know that you would hate me if I killed one of your friends,” he said.

You sighed, “I have to go. They’re waiting for me.” You went to the door, but Silas once again blocked the entrance.

“You gotta be quicker, Y/n. Someday you might find yourself in real trouble,” Silas smiled down at you.

“You are real trouble,” you retorted.

“Oh, we both know that’s not true. If I was then you’d be screaming for your life. But you’re just standing there, looking so incredibly kissable,” Silas said, shamelessly looking at your lips.

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and you looked down to hide your face. “No, I just don’t want to make a scene,” you mumbled.

Silas put his hand on your chin, making your eyes meet his. “While that is true, you also having feelings for me.”

You stepped away from him, his hand falling to his side. “I don’t. You’re evil and cheated on your girlfriend. No girl wants to be with a guy like that.”

“Elena practically cheated on Stefan emotionally, you’re still friends with her,” Silas stated.

You furrowed your brows, not sure what to say back. He was correct, but you knew that wasn’t the point. You needed to get out of there otherwise Caroline and Damon would freak out.

Silas walked towards you slowly, like you were his prey that he was stalking. You turned around, not wanting to look at him. Silas grinned, seeing as his plan would work out even better now that you were facing the mirrors.

He put his hand on your bare arm, dragging his fingertips up your skin.

“I’m so glad you took off the leather jacket. Your outfit looks so much better without it,” he murmured.

You immediately froze. Your eyes were glued to the two of you in the mirror. You watched as his hand went up to your shoulders, pressing down lightly on your muscles.

“Shouldn’t you be running, Y/n?” Silas asked, moving. your hair out of the way so he could get a better view of your neck.

You knew you should, but his touch felt so good. It weirdly calmed your nerves down, but also made you flustered as hell. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to stay in this bathroom and let him take you. Silas smiled at your thoughts, lowering his lips down to your shoulder.

“I can totally take you right here if you want,” he whispered, his lips making contact with your skin.

You inhaled sharply, finding yourself stumbling back into his chest. His other arm went around your waist, holding you close to him.

“Your skin is so soft, doll face,” he said while kissing up your neck.

You watched him in the mirror, your stomach doing flips. Your legs felt weak and heat gathered in between your thighs. You had honestly wanted to kiss him this whole time. You decided a few more minutes in the bathroom couldn’t hurt.

So you turned around, crashing your lips onto his. Silas smiled as you kissed him, his hands trailing down to your legs. He lifted you up with ease, taking you to the sink and placing you on the counter. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands running themselves through his hair.

“Silas,” you breathed out as you felt his hands on your thighs, going higher and higher.

“You like that, princess?” He hummed, his fingers going higher until they reached your clothed entrance. He pulled away, grinning and looking you in the eyes.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, pulling his face close to yours roughly.

Your lips collided again, your heart and brain exploding. Kissing him felt like heaven.

Silas mirrored your neediness and put his hands on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You pressed your chest up to him more, your hands going down from his head to the bottom of his shirt. You lifted it up, Silas pulling away so you could pull it off of him. You sat back and admired his abs and muscles, excitement growing in between your thighs.

You dove down to his neck, kissing and sucking lightly. Your hands explored his chest, tracing along his prominate abs. Silas breathed heavily into your ear, groaning as you found his sweet spot.

“Oh, Y/n,” he panted.

You smirked against his skin. Before you could put your hands on his belt, the bathroom door burst open. You saw Caroline and Damon standing, eyes huge and mouths agape.

“What the hell!” Caroline shrieked.

Your eyes widened and you pushed Silas away from you, getting off the counter.

“Really, Y/n? You pick him to make out with in the bathroom?” Damon groaned.

“It is just happened,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“Yeah, she’s a really good kisser,” Silas smirked. “I never would have expected it since she’s shy and all, but man, she is wil-”

“You shut the hell up. And you,” Caroline pointed to you. “Are going home. now.”

“He wasn’t hurting me, Care,” you said.

Caroline looked at you two incredulously. “You’re making her say this! You pressured her, didn’t you!” She pointed to Silas.

“He’s not! I was the one who kissed him first,” you admitted. “Yeah, but I helped a little,” Silas smirked.

Caroline made her vampire face and lunged at Silas, to which Damon pulled her back.

“Alright, blondie, why don’t you take Y/n home and I’ll deal with Silas, okay?” Damon said.

Caroline huffed and nodded, grabbing you by the arm roughly.

“We’ll continue another time, doll face!” Silas exclaimed.

“No, you will not,” Damon glared.

————

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425 notes · View notes

rat-that-writes · 3 years ago

Note

Hi friend!! Do u think u could write something dark x reader (although tbh u can write whichever ego u feel most inspired with--im not picky lol) where reader has had a long day at work and just needs some gentle attention and rest and affection👉👈🥺

a/n: hi <3 this is so cute thank u for the request, really feeling it rn. you can tell how badly i want pizza for dinner. enjoy !

tw: very mild embarrassment, thunder, swearing, food & eating (pizza specifically), use of the word lift instead of elevator lol im scottish dont @ me americans

Slapping down hard on the pavement, your feet carried you hurriedly down the street. It had started raining just ten minutes before you left work. You thought maybe it would have stopped by now, the forecast said it would be clear skies at this time, but no. Definitely not. Heavier than before, the rain soaked through your jacket, trousers, and your shoes. Every step you took you could hear the squelching of your socks against the sole of your boots.

You would have called a cab but of course the weather had also soaked through your pockets, rendering your phone useless until it was dry again. You just had to carry on through the misery until you reached your apartment.

Just when you were approaching your half-way-home mark, a loud crack of thunder rang in your ears, startling you enough for you loose your footing on an uneven tile and almost trip over. The streets weren't crowded by any means, but a few bystanders definitely saw that. You felt your face heating up as you caught your breath. Sighing loudly, you carried on walking at a slightly slower pace, not wanting to trip up again.

After another fifteen minutes of freezing misery being poured down on you from the dark cloudy sky, you had finally reached your apartment building. Stomping up to the lift, you stepped in, pleased to find it empty.

Feeling the large metal box moving upwards, it was if you felt your woes lifting with it. Soon, you would be in your cosy apartment, taking a long, hot shower and cuddling up in one of Dark’s hoodies that he never wears. Maybe you’d even call him to come cuddle you. Well, you’d have to dry your phone first.

As soon as you heard the telltale ding of the doors opening, you softly pushed past the three other people waiting for the lift, muttering an ‘excuse me,’ as one of them gave you a slight glare.

You could almost already feel the promise of the hot water gracing your skin, ridding you of the cold rain water and sweat. Turning the key in the lock, you struggled a little. This always happened on bad days. Jiggling the piece of metal slightly, you finally pushed the door open.

Peeling off your jacket, you hung it on the coat rack to dry, taking your phone out of the pocket. You didn’t even wait to turn the light on before you started on your jeans and t-shirt, but maybe you should have because the sight of glowing eyes just mere feet in front of you tore a hoarse scream from your throat. Your hand unconsciously threw itself at the light switch, flipping it on to reveal the the rest of the entity sitting on the back of your couch, knees bent and palms flat against each other. He looked confused, to say the least.

“Oh fucking hell, Dark! What are you doing here?” Your tone softened towards the end, voice sore from the scream.

“I did text you, Darling.”

“My phone got wet..”

“Ah.”

Finally having caught your breath, you chuckled softly. The demon smiled. He could tell you had had quite the long day.

Sighing softly, you continued to undress, uncomfortable with the soggy clothing clinging to your body. You could tell he was trying not to watch too obviously, which was amusing.

“I’m gonna take a shower, you can stay here if you want? I’ll probably take a while.”

He nods, getting up and reaching for you. You hesitantly accepted the hug, not wanting to dampen his clothes, but he didn’t seem to care. Kisses were planted atop your head as his arms squeezed you softly, enveloping your figure. For a demonic creature he gave the best hugs.

“Take as long as you need. I’ll order you some food.”

Feeling cosy and refreshed, you stepped out of the bathroom and into your bedroom to search for that hoodie you wanted. Dark bought it specifically for you to wear. He wore it only once, describing it as “agonising to be cloaked in such common threads,” but you knew he was exaggerating. The smallest inconveniences were always put so eloquently disdainful, which was hilarious.

Eventually, you found it buried at the back of your wardrobe, and slipped it on with a pair of cotton shorts. Falling just above your knees, the hoodie was soft and comfortable against your skin. You always wore this after a bad day.

The sound of voices interrupted your thoughts. Padding into the kitchen, you heard the sound of a very intimidated delivery guy, and a deep, restrained “thank you.”

As your boyfriend returned to the kitchen with a pizza box, your mouth watered and you realised just how hungry you were. Reaching to open the box, you felt his arms come around you and his head atop yours. Smiling, you inquired about the scared-sounding boy.

“Why did that pizza guy sound so distressed?”

“They all do.”

Shaking your head at his answer, you turned around in his hold. Charcoal eyes looking down at you, he smiled again and kissed your temple. Looking up again, he reached for the pizza box and took your hand to lead you to the couch, the Netflix already loaded up.

Settling down between his legs, you put the box on your lap over a fuzzy blanket. Just then, you realised he was still fully clothed in a black dress shirt and black slacks. His expression turned confused as you stood up from his lap.

“You’re still dressed,” you spoke, eyeing him up and down.

“If you wanted me to undress, Darling, you should have said so earlier.”

Making a show of unbutton his shirt, he smirked at you. Rolling your eyes, you set down the pizza and the blanket and ran into your bedroom, leaving Dark looking confused again.

Soon you emerged, a pair of grey sweatpants in hand. He’d worn these a couple times before, at your request. Eyeing them up, he sighed softly.

“I just want you to be comfortable,” you said, tone slightly teasing.

“Very well, for you.”

Getting up, he took them from your grasp and kissed your cheek. Face heating up slightly, you went back to your pizza to grab a slice. That first bite you took was like heaven. Cooled down enough to not burn your tongue, but still hot to please your taste buds. Immaculate sauce, slightly sweet. The cheese. The cheese was even better. You swear you almost left earth and all planes of existence after that bite, until you felt strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you down.

As your back made contact with his solid chest, you let out a squeak. He smirked again, placing kisses all over your bare shoulder where the hoodie has fallen slightly. Trailing up your neck, you giggled and shrugged slightly as his beard tickled your throat. Dark hummed, squeezing you again. Eventually, he stopped and let you carry on eating whilst you looked for something to watch.

“Are you gonna have a slice or not? Because I will eat this whole pizza.”

A torn look came upon his face. You rolled your eyes, knowing that his dramatic side was to show itself any moment now. Slowly, he reached for a slice, picking it up with the very tips of his fingers. He brought it up to the two of you, flapping the pizza slightly as it assessing it. A judging hum came from the man, brows furrowed and lips pressed together. All while you look on in amusement.

Taking another bite from your slice, you looked at him. He looked at you, then the slice, then straight ahead as he took a hesitant bite. Forever a man with an unreadable expression, you couldn’t tell if he liked it or not. At least he wasn’t spitting it out.

When he stopped chewing, you kept looking at his face for an answer. Nothing was too clear, but he didn’t look like he hated it.

“It was... fine, actually.” His tone was unusually soft, it almost concerned you.

Slowly turning back around, you grabbed another slice for yourself and one for Dark. He accepted it, but didn’t eat it straight away. He just held in front of him, eyes focused on the movie. A silent chuckle fell from your lips.

Content, you snuggled closer to the demon. His arms squeezed you from time to time, a gentle reminder that he’s still there. As your breathing grew slow and even, you felt the hands of slumber creeping closer into your brain, a silent lullaby drifting you off to dreamland. Eyes closed, you turned your body slightly. Dark’s arms squeezed once again as a kiss was planted on your forehead. A final sigh escaped your lips; you would finish the pizza tomorrow. Now it was time to drift away, in his arms, secure and content. Finally.

#darkiplier x yn #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier/reader #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier egos/reader #markiplier egos x yn #fanfiction #writing #request #softie <3 #x reader

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athenasbloodyspear · 3 years ago

Text

Don’t Make Me Beg Now Baby

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

Hello fellow Greta Van Freaks. This is my very first Greta fic! I hope you enjoy.

MASTERLIST

Note: This fic contains mature themes, discussions of past non-con (no members of GVF involved) and drug use. Minors DNI. 18+ only and please take care of yourselves. (See Ao3 for full tag list)

You can also read this fic on Ao3 if you prefer!

Jake Kiszka x Original Female Character

Picture this: The boys are in Northern Michigan to write the new album and they meet a wild young woman who works at a local record store who has a rough history with rock bands.

She doesn’t want to fall into the same traps she fell into before. He doesn’t want to hurt her.

The rest of them just want them to figure their shit out.

Note: While this fic is based on the members of Greta Van Fleet, I obviously do not know them personally (lol) and nearly 99% of this is a fever dream I decided to write down. Some tid bits are based on things said in interviews/photos/songs but please do not come for my neck if you dislike my portrayals as this is a STORY that I have entirely made up.

This will be a slow burn, overly dramatic, cliché fest of me missing my Mitten State and wishing more than anything I could move back home. Their music makes me homesick and for that I’ll never forgive them. ;)

Chapter Under the Cut

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

The tiny bell on the door to “The Edge” clanked as Jake pushed his way in, followed by Josh, Sam and Danny. The afternoon sun streamed through the slats in the windows at a harsh angle, illuminating the swirling dust. The boys all immediately took a deep breath. They all loved the smell of this place. A mix of dusty old vinyl's, incense and weed.

The Edge was the shop owned by an old friend, Levi, who had been a longtime family friend of the Kiszka’s. The boys had made the near three hour drive to the shop whenever they had a spare weekend in their younger years. They bought Levi out of his guitar strings and drumsticks and always looked through the boxes of vinyl's hoping to find treasures. Levi sold an eclectic mix of music equipment, records, books, home goods and comically horrific coffee.

The Edge is where they had each bought their very first instruments, had their first beers and even smoked their first joint. It was a special place for them.

The old wood floors creaked with every step, the wood walls were covered with old articles from Rolling Stone, photos Levi had taken and autographs from the artists who had cycled through the place over the years. There were stacks upon stacks of vinyl's. Shelves of old autobiographies and music theory books. There were speakers stacked from floor to ceiling, and the whole right side of the store was jam packed with basses and guitars. The back corner had a few keyboards and a drum set, but plenty of catalogues to pick even more instruments from. There were cases of drumsticks and guitar picks and strings. The middle of the store had tables full of incense, candles and interesting home goods. There were tables where local artists sold jewelry, art pieces and furniture. It was full to the brim, most shelves rising way up to the ceiling. Most needed a ladder to reach the top. The basement had a sound studio with even more equipment set up to be used to record, or to test out.

Levi had inherited the place from his father, who had built up quite a legendary roster of friends over his years. The shop was just off Front Street on the main drag of Traverse City. Levi’s father had made a name for himself as a great host to bands looking to escape to northern Michigan to hole up in cabins and write albums. Levi continued the tradition and took it a step further by buying the space next door and turning it into a club with live music on the weekends.

If you were lucky, you could catch some super huge bands playing for only about 100 people in the dark side room of The Edge.

“You bastards finally made it!” Levi called out as he came sauntering out of the back room. Levi looked the exact same as the last time the boys had seen him. Tanned skin from his days paddle boarding and hiking along the Lake Michigan shore, sandy blonde hair that was brighter in the summer, perpetual 5-o-clock shadow because he just couldn’t be bothered to shave, shell necklace around his neck, light wash jeans low on his hips with the same old cowboy boots he’d been wearing since the boys were 12.

“Is that grey hair I see Levi?” Josh leaned forward with an exaggerated squint. Levi laughed, snagging Josh’s head to give him a noogie.

“I may be older than you punks by a few years, but I’m not greying yet.” Levi released Josh from his headlock and gave him a shove.

“I’d say 37 is more than a few years older than us, grandpa.” Sam snarked.

“You’re makin me regret extending my hospitality, kid.”

Jake felt himself relax fully for the first time in a really long time. It was just like old times. Exactly what the boys needed.

“Welcome back dudes. I’m surprised I’m still cool enough for you Rockstar types.” Levi crossed his legs and leaned back against the front counter.

“We’ll never be too cool for The Edge. This place will always be way cooler than we could ever be.” Danny piped up, walking forward to wrap Levi in a hug.

“It’s been too long man.” Levi commented as he smacked Danny on the back.

“We know.” Sam said “Way too fuckin long.” He hugged Levi next. Josh and Jake followed up with hugs next. The room was heavy with a tinge of melancholy. Old friends who had missed each other finally reunited.

“Well, have you guys been to the house yet?” Levi stepped around the counter and started pouring four cups of the famous nasty coffee.

“Yeah we dropped our bags off before we headed into town.” Danny spoke up.

“Isn’t it sweet?” Levi asked enthusiastically.

“It’s wicked man. Thanks so much for getting that set up for us.” Josh grinned as he snagged a cup off the counter.

The house was a mid century modern cabin right on the east bay shore. It came equipped with a huge garage studio, front deck and a dock out into the bay. Levi had bought the house in foreclosure and along with help from a bunch of locals (in exchange for beer of course) they turned the house into a perfect getaway for any artists looking to come take a break up north. The place had five bedrooms and three bathrooms with a giant living room with overstuffed couches and velvet chairs. The walls were covered in art and the shelves were full to bursting with plants. It was a kaleidoscope of colors and textures, with mix matched rugs and lamps. It was Levi’s pride and joy.

“I’m so glad you guys like it.” Levi smiled even bigger as he passed coffees to the rest of the boys. “Once you’re a little more settled, feel free to send me a list of equipment you want me to set up downstairs and you can start coming in whenever to work. But also, I think you should probably take a week or two off first. You all look about two seconds away from collapsing.”

“Yeah we’re pretty fuckin beat dude. But we’ll send you a list ASAP.” Jake said, taking a burning sip of the coffee. It singed his nerve endings and he couldn’t have been happier about it.

Levi opened his mouth to speak again, when a voice filtered through the window to the loft above the store.

“Yo Levi!” the person shouted “Can you please get off your fuckin ass and pick music to play? I know Wednesdays are your day to pick but if you take forever I’m just gonna put on whatever I want and you can suck it.”

All four boys' heads snapped up to the window to the loft, but whoever was up there couldn’t be seen. All they could see was that the loft had clearly gotten a makeover. What used to be an upper level where Levi stored surplus supplies now looked like it had a plush velvet couch, lava lamps and plants in it.

“Alright alright! I’ll get on it.” Levi called back up, shaking his head and chuckling to himself as he walked toward the central sound system behind the counter to scroll through Spotify playlists.

“Who the fuck is that and what have you done to the loft?” Josh asked, hopping up to sit on the counter.

“That would be the very best thing that’s ever fallen into my lap. A.k.a my new store and venue manager Maven. She moved back to the area after living in Hollywood for a few years managing bands and she completely changed my life. We finally have consistent stock, a longstanding line up at the club and I have had the time to start photography again. Truly a godsend, if not occasionally a pain in my ass. She turned the loft into a breakroom of sorts. There’s a couch and table up there now. She practically lives up there sometimes.”

“Damn she must be some woman if she finally got you to get your shit together with that club.” Sammy piped up.

“She’s hellfire, I’ll tell yah that.” Levi chuckled, finally hitting play on a playlist. The first bars of Surfin USA by the Beach Boys came on the surround system and matching groans came out of Jake downstairs and Maven upstairs.

“Not this shit again!” Maven yells. Jake chuckled to himself. Hellfire indeed.

“It’s my day to pick so suck it!” Levi called back before faux stage whispering to the boys “I mostly just play this to piss her off.”

Levi clapped his hands together once “Well boys, It’s close enough to five o'clock and I owe you a beer. Let’s head over to Little Fleet for some grub and beers and we can catch up.”

Josh grimaced as he sucked down the last bit of his coffee before lobbing the empty cup into the trash at the end of the counter. “You still make shit coffee Levi.”

“It’s the one thing I wouldn’t let Maven fix.” Levi said with a grin as all five men exited out the back door.

~0~

The boys took a week to relax, as per Levi’s request. They spent the days hiking the shore, kayaking and drinking beer around the fire. It had been way too long since they’d done this. The release of The Battle at Garden’s Gate had been exhilarating and the fans' response had been everything they’d hoped for. People seemed to love the album and they were all so proud. But with press interviews and touring, they hadn’t gotten more than a day or two to relax at a time. And they certainly hadn’t gotten a chance to get back to their favorite old haunts in years.

They stopped by the store almost every morning for a cup of coffee strong enough to jumpstart their hearts. Sometimes Levi joined them on their escapades, and sometimes he stayed behind to help out at the store. The boys spent a few afternoons sifting through albums and strumming on some of Levi’s vintage guitars.

Mostly they caught up on each other's lives. The boys recounted their more personal lives that happened outside the coverage of the album and Levi talked about the past few years of his life in Traverse City. Levi told them all about Maven and how she was practically his little sister. They laughed. They drank. They had a blast.

The boys noticed Levi was a little on edge occasionally, typically when they heard someone shuffling upstairs or equipment moving around in the backroom of the shop. They assumed it was Maven but weren’t sure, since they had yet to see her in the flesh. A week from their arrival they were all sitting in lawn chairs in the alley behind the store, smoking cigs and drinking their coffee when Sam finally asked.

“So, why haven’t we met your precious Maven yet? Hiding her from us or something?”

Levi shifted a bit in his chair. “Um..” he coughed out a laugh. “I am actually. Yes. But it’s the other way around, I’m hiding you from her.”

“Afraid she’ll fan-girl or something?” Josh commented as he ashed his cigarette.

“In… a sense.” Levi coughed. “But in quite the opposite way you’re imagining.”

“She’s a fan then?” Sammy piped up.

“She loves your music. A lot.” Levi sniffed and coughed again. “It’s a real safe haven for her. When she’s having a bad day I catch her upstairs laying on the floor smoking a J with sound cancelling headphones blasting your albums as loud as she can.”

“Exactly how it’s meant to be enjoyed. With a joint in hand.” Jake chimes in.

“Yeah..” Levi toes the asphalt a bit with his boots, but doesn’t continue.

“Soooo” Sammy drawls “Why can’t we meet her? We’re no stranger to super fans. I’m sure she’s cool.”

“Um, well. It’s a bit complicated.” Levi heaves a sigh before flicking his cigarette butt into the coffee canister at the center of their little circle. “I suppose I can trust you guys. You’re friends. Do you remember the huge lawsuit that the band Undercover Heart went through last year? The one about the um” He coughs again, “Rape of one of their staff members by the lead singer Ryan?”

“Yes. That shit was horrific man.” Danny spoke up. “I read all the details I could. They kept the poor girl's identity private but goddamn I felt so bad for her. She was a badass for filing that suit though.”

“Yeah. She was.” Levi breathed. “So, this is strictly off record and if you repeat this to anyone I will skin you all alive, famous rock stars be damned.”

“Jesus Levi.” Jake said.

“It was her.” Levi choked out. “Maven. That’s why she ran back from Hollywood and ended up here. That dude messed her up and she just… she struggles with meeting famous bands now. You know how many people cycle through this joint writing stuff. She just… has a really fuckin hard time with it sometimes. Particularly bands she likes. I think it’s because once you meet someone, and in her case, discover how much of a monster they can be, their music isn’t… safe anymore.”

“Fuck.” Jake said, flicking his cigarette into the canister.

“Well I feel terrible for joking about her being a fangirl.” Josh mutters.

“She just genuinely loves you guys a lot. I never really told her I was an old friend because I didn’t want her to be worried about y’all stopping by. I just know that if she knows you’re here she’ll take off and avoid coming by the shop as much as she can and not only do I need her here, but I think she needs the safety of the shop too. I didn’t want to wreck it.” Levi sighs again. “I know she’ll find out you’re here eventually, it’s inevitable. I just was a coward and didn’t want to break the news to her.”

“She was a pretty well known band manager wasn’t she?” Danny asks. “She like… completely made Undercover Heart what it was. Before they hired her they were slated to be a one hit wonder but she hauled them into relevancy basically by her will alone.”

“Yeah. She basically built that man's career for him. She gave him everything, and he took everything from her. If I ever see the man I’m liable to get my ass thrown in prison.” Levi mutters.

“I’ll help.” Danny says immediately.

All five sit in silence for a few minutes, smoking the last of their cigarettes. When they’d all finished, they stood and stretched to head back inside the shop.

“So yeah. Anyway, If you see her that’s fine, just… well now you have context for… her.” Levi says as he yanks open the door.

A few steps into the back hallway, Levi suddenly halts, causing all four boys to nearly bash into each other. The front door to the shop had crashed open and there were footsteps stomping across the store toward the front desk.

“Listen Levi,” Maven’s tense voice carried down the back hall. “I know Wednesdays are usually your day for music but I’m having an absolute shit fucking day so I’m playing Greta all day and there’s absolutely nothing you can fucking do about it, kapeesh?”

The very opening chords of Edge of Darkness scratch through the speakers after she finishes her sentence and the boys all exchange a slightly amused look, grins spread on all of their faces.

“Kapeesh.” Levi calls out to her. He spins and silently nods to the boys to head toward the back door. The boys attempt to be as quiet as they can as they creep toward the door.

“Also, Levi?” Maven calls again. Everyone halts in their tracks. “You said there was a band coming in soon. Are they here yet? Do you need me to set up the backroom?”

“Uh, yeah they’re here.” Levi squeaks. All five men share nervous looks. “They’re uh… up at the house.” He cringes at his lie. “I’m getting an equipment list from them today and then you can get started.

“Cool cool.” Maven calls back. “Do you think I’ll like their stuff?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Levi grins then. “I think you will.”

“Wicked.” Maven calls back.

All five men repress giggles as they skedaddle out the back door and into the alley.

~0~

The next morning the boys wake up to a group text from Levi.

COME BY THE SHOP ASAP. COME IN BACK DOOR. HEAD DOWN THE STAIRS TO THE BOOTH. BE AS QUIET AS YOU CAN.

A weird request, but they did as they were told. They all piled into the SUV they had rented and headed to the shop. Danny peeled open the back door as quietly as he could, and Sammy opened the door to the stairs. They tiptoed down and through the door at the end of the stairs that opened into the booth of a sound studio. Levi sat in front of all the mixing boards with a cup of coffee to his lips. He glanced over at them and softly said “coffees on the table.”

“Why the weird text?” Jake asked.

“Because of that.” Levi responded softly, pointing through the dark glass into the soundstage.

The sound stage was littered with mismatched rugs, and a few milk crates that doubled as tables. There was a gorgeous seafoam green drum set toward the back wall and stands full of various guitars and basses. Along the left wall was a piano and a Mellotron set up exactly to the specifications Sam sent over. However, with all these beautiful instruments to look at that would normally catch their eye, it was the woman sitting on stool in the center, cradling a dark purple Fender guitar that made Jake stop in his tracks.

Maven, Jake had to guess that’s who it was, was wearing checkered distressed pants, with a ripped up old band t-shirt cropped at her ribs, revealing a sliver of the rounded part of her stomach. Over top she was wearing an orange leopard print cardigan that ran down to her thighs. Around her neck was a series of long necklaces, and her wrists were adorned with interlacing leather bands.

She was plucking out a melody with her eyes closed, rocking back and forth on the stool. Jake had seen countless numbers of people playing the guitar before. On the road, in the studio, studying old masters on YouTube. There was nothing overly special about the way she was sitting or playing, but he felt a little bit like he couldn’t breathe.

“She never fuckin plays anymore man.” Levi whispered. “It felt like magic hearing music coming out of the basement this morning. I just felt like you should see it.”

The melody she was playing was sad. Haunting is a better way to put it, and Jake couldn’t look away. Not even when Sammy placed a cup of burning hot coffee into his hands. She was moving her head along with her playing, the strands of her dark messy hair shaking back and forth. The group watched in silence as she played out the riff a few times, Levi cranked the volume of the mics in the space and they could hear her humming softly.

“She has a strong presence.” Josh murmured.

Maven suddenly stopped. Everyone froze as she heaved a sigh and stood from the stool to put the guitar back on it’s rack.

“You in there Levi?” Maven said then. The boys still didn’t move a muscle. Jake’s head was spinning, having finally seen the face that went with the voice he’d heard in the loft for a week. She was beautiful. He couldn’t even really put his finger on why, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even seeing her through the thick dark glass of the studio.

Levi hit the button to the mic in the booth and responded “Yah.” He paused before adding. “Sounded good.”

Maven snorted in a self-deprecating way and said “Thanks.”

Levi hit the mic button again and said “You should play more.”

“Don’t push it Levi.” Maven snapped back. Levi released the button to his mic and let out a heavy sigh. “Can you check some levels on the lines for me? I think I have everything pretty good but I want to make sure before they get here today.”

“Sure.” Levi replied.

Maven pulled the amp cord out of the Fender she had been playing on and plugged it into another guitar, one more similar to the guitars that Jake regularly used while they wrote.

“Are we looking for a punk or a rock-y sound?” Maven asked.

“Um.” Levi hesitated. “Rock. Their sound is like…” He tossed a small smile over his shoulder at the boys. “Like Greta’s actually.”

“Dope. I hope they’re not just copying the boys. They’ve got a mellotron in here and everything.” The boys smiled. She pounded out a few chords on the guitar. “Good?”

Levi looked over at Jake for confirmation. Jake, who still had not taken his eyes off Maven, nodded.

“Yeah, that should be good for raw sound. They can play with stuff too. They’re a pretty well educated bunch.” Levi called back.

“Thank god.” Maven snorted. “Not like that indie punk bunch you booked last month who needed me to do fucking all their sound mixing for them.”

“Maven, I don’t think they kept asking you down here because they need help with their sound.”

Maven just rolled her eyes at that.

They repeated the process with each instrument, Levi silently asking for confirmation from the respective Greta member until they were sure the sound lines were all functioning properly.

“Great work kid.” Levi called into the studio.

“Ew don’t call me kid. I’m a 27 year old woman.” Maven called back.

Levi chuckled. “You’re a kid to me.”

“Whatever.” Maven muttered. “I’m gonna go take a walk along the beach. Smoke a little. Text me if they need me.”

“Will do.” Levi called back. The boys all tensed, looking for places to hide, or to run up the stairs and back into the alley. Luckily, Maven took the back door out of the studio and up another hallway instead.

“Well boys, it’s all you.” Levi said. “Text if you need anything.”

Sam piped up and said “Yeah actually, can you pick my brother’s jaw up off the floor?”

“Jake see pretty lady play guitar and Jake brain break.” Josh teased.

“You guys suck.” Jake grumbled.

Levi cackled. “I thought you’d like her.”

~0~

Maven walked along the coast of the bay and absentmindedly smoked a joint. It was an overcast and drizzly day which meant there was no one around, which she preferred anyway. She was feeling on edge. The drizzle was very slowly building a small sheen of water on her arms and hair, but she didn’t mind. The cool water and gentle breeze combination was perfect.

Maven sat her butt down in the sand and stared out at the waves. She normally wore headphones on her walks, her world was a near constant stream of music, but she had opted for silence today.

Levi was being weird. He was edgy around her all week, sending her out every morning for tasks and disappearing without saying where he was going around 4:30 every day. She had come to the conclusion that whatever band was in town this week was a pretty big name. Or big enough that he was nervous about her being around them. She sighed. She hated when he tiptoed around her. Maven didn’t blame him. When she first started working at the shop she had had a couple pretty bad PTSD episodes that had scared the shit out of him. She owed him everything for staying with her, talking her down and making sure she was fed and had water when she got into one of her states.

Levi was her best friend, to put it mildly. He cared for her, kept her safe and in return she busted her ass at his store making sure they had the best products, the best shows and that their artist getaway was something that people would go back and tell their friends about. She loved Levi like an older brother, and he cared for her like his little sister. She would forever be grateful to whatever power in the universe made her stumble into The Edge two years ago.

She had been high out of her mind, as she had been most days after she came running back to Michigan with her tail between her legs, and Levi had been struggling with an amp in the shop. She had walked in, spotted his struggle and didn’t even say a word to him, just walked over and fixed the wiring so that it was functional again. Levi had looked up from where he sat on the floor and said “You don’t happen to need a job do you?”

The rest was essentially history. It only took two months of seeing him every single day, and him not letting her sour moods go by unnoticed, for her to spill her guts over some bourbon one night. About Ryan and Undercover Heart and how badly the whole situation fucked her up. How after she’d recorded her testimony she’d boarded the next flight to Grand Rapids and hightailed it up north. She came crash landing into Traverse City because she’d always loved it as a kid, and figured it would be a great place to start over. The small town she’d grown up in had too many people who knew her.

He was extra careful with bands for a while. Never letting her be alone in a room with too many male band members, and carefully vetting everyone who came through. Eventually she told him off about treating her like a porcelain doll and he backed down a bit, giving her free reign over lots of the equipment set ups and giving her plenty of hours in the shop by herself. She was happy to do so, so Levi could focus on fixing up the artist house and starting his photography again.

But he was still very gentle with her sometimes, and she’d always love him for it even when it pissed her the fuck off.

Once she’d smoked the joint down to the roach, she tucked the end into her pocket. It was sacrilegious to litter near the lake. It was too precious to be fucked with. She meandered back toward the shop. Her plan was to grab her bag and head back to let her Pitbull, Stacy, out for a walk and pee. The girl had been cooped up all morning and Maven felt bad.

She threw her whole body against the front door, as the latch often stuck, and the loud sound of the chimes clanged in the empty space. She rolled her eyes. Of course Levi left the shop unattended and unlocked. It was Traverse City, no one was gonna rob them, but what if someone wanted to buy something?

She was humming softly to herself as she made her way around the edge of the counter and plopped down on the stool by the register. She whipped out her phone to ask Levi where he was. She had the message halfway typed when the door behind her, the one that led to the staff restroom, popped open.

“You know, crime is especially low in this town but that doesn’t mean someone wouldn’t come in here and try to steal your precious coffee maker.” She tossed over her shoulder.

“Oh.” Was all that came back. It was decidedly not Levi’s voice. Maven spun back quickly.

“Sorry I…” But that’s as far as she got. She was suddenly face to face with Jake Kizska and all thoughts quickly left her brain.

They both stared at each other for a long moment. Maven couldn’t quite figure out why he looked just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. He also almost looked afraid for some reason that Maven couldn’t figure out.

He was dressed in an outfit she’d seen him wear plenty of times. A black button up, half unbuttoned, loose fitting light wash jeans and a pair of well worn boots. His wrists were full of bracelets and his hair was longer than the last time she’d seen footage of their concerts, well past his collarbones at this point.

“Hi.” Jake finally broke the silence. “I’m Jake.” He reached out his hand for a handshake.

“I know.” Maven replied, and then coughed. Why did you say that you freak?

Suddenly the front door bell chimed again, and Maven whipped her head to see Levi coming in the front door. She stood abruptly from her stool, skirted around Jake’s outstretched hand, and out from behind the counter. She scooped up her leather satchel on her way.

She headed straight at Levi. He glanced over his shoulder and saw an apologetic Jake looking forlorn and lowering his hand back to his side.

“Oh hey Maven-”

“Hey dumbass, don’t leave the store unattended again. I’m going home to check on Stacy. Probably won’t be back for the rest of the day.” Maven spit as she stormed past him toward the front door.

“Maven wait-”

But she was already outside, the hinges bringing the heavy wood crashing back into the frame. The chime of the bells rang through the space.

“Sorry.” Jake muttered.

“Not your fault. I knew she’d find out eventually. Right now she’s probably just pissed I didn’t tell her. Which she has every right to be.” Levi sighed.

After a few more beats of silence Jake spoke again. “Who’s Stacy?”

Levi huffed a laugh. “That would be her Pitbull.”

“Oh.” Jake said again. He felt crazy because his brain couldn’t come up with anything else to say. She was prettier up close. She smelled like the Lake and weed and sandalwood. He really wished she’d taken his hand. He shook his head trying to find his brain in it somewhere.

The other three boys came clambering up the stairs and into the store. They all looked between Levi, who was still standing in the middle of the shop, and Jake behind the counter.

“Are you two playing freeze tag or something?” Sam quipped.

“Jake met Maven.” Levi responded. The boys' heads whipped toward Jake.

“And… I’m guessing it… went well?” Danny questioned.

Levi finally walked back toward the counter. “She left for the day. This is on me. I should have told her y’all were here.” He snagged his keys from below the counter and walked toward the front door to lock up. “I’m closing early, boys. Let’s go get a beer.”

“Kowabunga baby.” Josh said with a grin.

~0~

Maven sat curled up on her velvet couch, Stacy was her little spoon. There was incense burning, a bottle of wine open on the side table and a lit joint in the ashtray. She had changed into a giant t-shirt and boxer shorts. The soft sounds of John Denver playing off her record player.

However, none of these things were easing her mind.

She was pissed, mostly. At herself. At Levi. She was pissed he didn’t tell her they were coming. She was pissed that he felt he couldn’t tell her. She was pissed that she had acted like a freak in front of Jake.

The anxiety was an endless pit in her stomach. She couldn’t go back there tomorrow. She couldn’t see any of those people. Not when she felt like this.

She whipped out her phone and quickly shot a message to Levi, before chugging her whole glass of red wine and snagging the joint out of the ashtray.

~0~

Levi’s phone dinged on the table where all of the guys sat drinking beers and chatting. Levi glanced at it and quickly picked it up when he saw her name.

“It’s Maven.” He said.

“What did she say?” Jake asked, sitting up a bit in his chair.

“Fuck.” Levi said, tossing his phone on the table, still unlocked.

All four boys leaned in to read the screen.

CASHING IN ALL MY VACATION DAYS. I’LL BE OUT FOR TWO WEEKS.

“Fuck indeed.” Josh said, pounding back the rest of his beer.

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #greta fic #jake fic #gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta fan fleet fic #peaceful army

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maysbanks · 4 years ago

Text

dancing in the dark.

it’s been a hot minute and some of y’all will be surprised that this came from me as i’m very anti rafe but i’ve been in a drew mood for the past couple of weeks and this kinda came from that so enjoy lmao. also i’ll come back and put the read more on tomorrow sorry i’m lazy and wrote this on my phone lol (just imagine this an au kinda thing ok)

this includes rafe being sex on legs, oral sex (female receiving), swearing, mention of alcohol and drug use etc

you’re forced to go to midsummer’s by your friends and the night ends up unexpectedly with rafe cameron three fingers deep in you

“Do you think I should wear a bra with this?” You looked over to Kiara who was stood in front of her wide mirror littered with Polaroids of you and the gang, summer yellow dress held up to her half naked body as she assessed her appearance. Your eyes rolled, a heavy sigh emitting from your lips.

“I don’t know Kie, how about you not wear the dress at all and ditch the Kook fest and stay in with me?” You tried, (about your thousandth attempt at getting her to see sense and not force you to go to Midsummer’s with her), but all you got in return was another eye roll and laugh from your curly haired friend, who turned and sent you one of her signature ‘I’m very much done with your shit’ looks.

“We’re going,” she stressed, and you whined, throwing your body back atop her bed and holding a pillow over your face in silent protest. “Stop being such a baby and get over yourself. We’re all going, it’s not like I’m just feeding you to the lions.”

She had a point, but you refused to admit it. You’d be in a mood all night if it meant you were to attend Midsummer’s, which Kie was forcing all of you to go to. She was the only Kook in your group of friends, which meant she was the only one that attended the party every year, but this year John B was also invited along due to Sarah Cameron being his girlfriend (he’d protested just as much as you when he first found out), and Pope would be there anyway because him and his dad would be working there for the night with their barbecue, and so Kie had the bright idea to invite the remaining two of you along; you and JJ.

If you were throwing a hissy fit, then JJ would be ten times worse. You could just imagine him stomping his booted feet as he refused to put on the suit that John B forced him to rent, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d somehow managed to crawl out of a window and escape the desperate clutches of his best friend. The thought almost made you laugh out loud, but then you remembered you were in a mood and clamped your lips shut beneath the silky purple pillow you still held captive over your head.

“Please don’t make me go,” you pleaded. You grunted when a sudden weight landed on your abdomen, the pillow you were clutching wrenched from your hands and thrown across the room, your eyes landing on Kiara’s who frowned down at you from her position straddling your waist. (If anyone were to walk in then and there and see you both half naked on her bed you were sure you’d give them a heart attack.) “Please, Kie. I’m begging you.”

Kie sighed. “It’s one night, you can manage for one night ‘kay. I’ve been doing this practically my whole life and I’ve survived, so can you.” You groaned at her matter of fact tone, huffing when she shifted her weight and gripped your cheeks in her hands, effectively cutting off any whining you were about to do and squishing your face between her hands. “Now, shut up moaning, get off my bed, and get dressed. You look so hot, and you’re going to look even hotter in that dress.” Her face suddenly changed, the stern glare morphing into a cheeky grin. “Who knows, maybe your night will end up with you on your knees.”

“Ugh, Kie!” You groaned, shoving her off of you and trying your best to ignore her cackle that had your lips quirking upward. Sending her a quick glare, you eyed the dress she chose for you that was hanging on her wardrobe door. “Fine, I‘ll go. But I’ll be complaining the whole time.”

• • •

Turned out Kiara was right, you did look hot in your dress. It wasn’t often that you did dress up, being a Pogue in the Outer Banks there was never really any reason to, and it’s not like you could afford it anyway. You really didn’t want to know how much the dress you were wearing cost, the expensive feeling fabric enough to make you cringe. It was pretty, the emerald green a stark contrast to Kie’s light yellow, the smooth silk cooling you down in the humid summer evening. It was a deep plunge, the sides of your boobs mildly exposed enough to have people turning their heads or dipping their eyes down to catch a glance. The skirt fell mid length just a bit under your knees, but your legs were exposed nicely due to the slits on both sides that began at your mid thigh. With a pair of heels that you also borrowed from Kie’s wardrobe, you had to admit you looked the part and some more for an evening at Midsummer’s.

“Holy shit,” Pope breathed when he saw you, standing alone at the grill he would be tending to for most of the night. “You’re wearing a dress.”

“Nice observation skills, Caption Obvious,” you sassed, still in a bitter mood over your attendance at the event but feeling a little better with a beer in your hands. Your lips curled in mild disgust as you glanced around you, everywhere you looked a rich and stuck up Kook would be stood there, nursing their expensive cocktails and whiskey with the finest suits and dresses on as they made idle chat about where they’d be vacationing to and what newest model of car they’d just gotten. “I can’t believe I’m here. Midsummer’s sucks.”

Pope nodded in agreement to your statement, looking away from you briefly to flip over a burger sizzling on the grill. “Least you haven’t got it as bad as John B, Sarah’s been at him all day, making sure that he turns up. Poor guy has no idea what’s coming for him, spending the night talking to Ward and all his rich buddies.”

Just as Pope mentioned the man’s name, said man and his family appeared at the door of the country club, making their grand entrance as usual, all eyes turning to gawk as the Cameron family stride in, Ward and Rose in front (you tried not to stare too hard at the concoction atop the blonde woman’s head, it would hurt your eyes), Wheezie just behind them, grinning at the attention she was receiving, Sarah a little behind her, dragging along an embarrassed looking John B on her arm (you and Pope shared a look and snorted simultaneously).

Your eyes, however, upon returning on the Cameron clan, suddenly couldn’t look away from the person right at the back of the group, dragging his feet with a small frown on his pink lips and hands in his pockets as he ignored all extended hands held out for him to shake and instead assessed the crowd stood beneath him, as if looking for someone. You took the time to glance him over, appreciating the way his body looked in a light grey suit, black dress shirt beneath complimenting the outfit perfectly. You’d noticed his hair a bit ago, the times you’d crossed paths or seen him around town you couldn’t help but notice it - he’d stopped gelling it and wore the dark blonde strands freely, letting it flop on his forehead in a way you thought attractive. From the last time you’d seen him he’d obviously gotten in a fight (not surprising for his character), as he was sporting a bruised cheek on his right side. All in all, he looked fucking good. And you hated to admit it, because he was Rafe Cameron. And you were meant to hate Rafe Cameron.

When his light blue eyes landed on you though, all thoughts of that kind left your mind and all that was left was the ones that had you mentally undressing him. As if knowing your exact thoughts, his lips curled into a smirk as he stared you down, neither of you breaking the contact. That lasted a whole 56 seconds (were you counting?) before the trance was broken for you, and you were knocked on the shoulder by an aggressively big hand that belonged to JJ Maybank.

“I can’t fucking believe I’m here right now,” he whined in a high pitched voice, Kie on his other side rolling her eyes, Pope chuckling amusedly at his friend. You ignored them all, turning your head back desperately hoping that Rafe hadn’t moved in the few seconds you looked away, your heart hammering wildly in your chest when he realised no, he had not, and was still staring at you from across the lawn, this time his eyes swooping down your figure and taking you all in, a hand rested at his jaw and fingers dangerously close to his lips as he did. When he was finished, he caught your eyes again, this time sending you a wink and a smile when all you could do was stare back with parted lips. “Hellooo, is anyone in there?”

You turned briefly to JJ who along with Pope and Kiara was staring at you and sending you confused looks, and you swallowed as you questioned them, handing JJ the drink in your hands he requested and denying the offer of weed. The three sent you crazed glares when you refused, after all weren’t you the one that downright refused to attend and made a big deal out of it and specifically said ‘that somebody had better smuggle in some good booze and weed to get me through the night’. But all that had left your mind the minute your eyes landed on Rafe Cameron, and you had other ideas on how to get through the night - hopefully ending up with you sat on his dick.

When you looked back at where Rafe was stood, however, you were disheartened to see that he’d moved, and when you looked around the lawn to try and spot him you saw him stood in the midst of a conversation with Topper and Kelce, his mouth moving and his words directed at them, but his eyes still on you.

Your lips pulled into a small smirk as you decided waiting a while wouldn’t hurt, if it meant the night would end up how you wanted it to, which you were positive it would as Rafe licked his lips, slowly and purposely, his eyes dancing along your figure. You just hoped it would be soon, because you weren’t sure how long you could last without feeling his hands on you.

• • •

“Fuck, these heels are so uncomfortable,” you muttered, stood off to the side with the gang as you sneakily passed vodka disguised in a water bottle between the five of you, John B having escaped the clutches of Ward Cameron and his rich buddies to join you all in complaining and making fun of the festivities that Midsummer included.

“Take em off,” John B suggested with a careless shrug, yours and Kiara’s shared scoff at the possibility of it making him frown.

JJ grinned lazily, “Nah, nah, what she needs to take off is that dress,” he gestured to you, finger pointing accusingly at your semi exposed chest. “I mean, is there even any point in wearing anything? You might as well, y’know, liven up this party while you’re at it.”

“In your dreams, Maybank,” you rolled your eyes, taking a swig of the bitter alcohol when Pope passed it to you, ignoring JJ’s return of ‘oh trust me, it will be’. “I have other plans on how to liven up this party anyways, for me, at least.”

Kie’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” She voiced the gang’s thoughts, waving a hand in dismissal as the alcohol was offered to her, holding a hand on her stomach to show that she’d had enough and felt sick. You just grinned cheekily, taking a hit of the vodka next when Pope also refused.

As if he knew exactly what you were just talking about, a voice suddenly sounded from somewhere behind you, the distinct attractiveness of it causing your head to turn and your eyes to meet Rafe’s as he stood a bit away from you and the gang, hands once again in his pockets of his slacks as he seemingly ignored the rest of your friends, eyes only on you. A smile made its way onto your face without you even realising, and it was as if John B had been shot right in the stomach when he came to the realisation, a loud groan of protest leaving his mouth.

“C’mon, you can’t be serious,” he practically pleaded, the remaining three of your friends still clueless and confused as to what was going on as they chorused their questions. You ignored them all, shoving the near empty bottle into John B’s hands and sending the guys a wide smirk and wink before you turned on your heels and made your way towards where Rafe was seemingly waiting, a smug smirk on his own pretty pink lips. “Oh my god, she is! She actually is!”

You were too far away by the time you made it to Rafe to hear exactly what your friends were saying, but you were close enough to hear their collected groans of disgust and exclaims of protest when John B had finally explained what was happening. You payed no mind, even when JJ shouted after you in warning, your feet landing you right in front of Rafe. The dirty blonde swiped his tongue over his teeth as he took you in so up close, his eyes glistening under the shine of the fairy lights hung up all over. He stared at you for what felt like an eternity before he glanced over your shoulder, taking note of your foul faced friends.

“Seems like they don’t want you to come with me,” he spoke in a low voice, the rumble of it so close to you and the suggestion of his words sending shivers down your body and right to your core.

You shrugged simply. “I don’t really give a fuck.” You informed him promptly, your words making a grin form on his face.

“Then let’s go, baby.” You wasted no time in taking his outstretched hand, letting him lead you away from the crowd and out towards the back. You had to put your full trust in him then, you had no idea as to anything about the country club, had no possible clue as to where he was taking you, but you found no issue in trusting him, the need for him to fuck you senseless the only thing staying in your mind.

It was when you landed in a hallway upon entering the building from a back door when he let go of your hand and instead raised them to your face, pulling you close to his body and your head near his as he pressed his lips against yours with a certain kind of desperation you’d never felt before. You gasped into his mouth at the intensity of it, hands moving to grip his hair between your fingers as he backed you up and pressed you flush against a wall, his knee resting between your legs.

When he pressed it slightly against you, you couldn’t do anything else but moan into his hot kiss, heavy rasps of breath escaping your chest. Rafe pulled back slightly, cheeks flushed and lips cherry red, his pupils dilated and staring you down. He did the same action, watching you this time, and when you moaned just a little bit louder and threw your head back to bang against the wall, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, Rafe let out a low groan. “You’re so fucking hot,” he mumbled as he pressed up against you once more, hands at your hips and bundling your dress between his large digits, causing the fabric to ride up your legs just a little. “Dressed up all nice, your tits fucking perfect and practically pooling out, you like the attention on you don’t you, baby?”

You never thought you did until now, but you weren’t about to tell him that, simply nodding your head at his words in an attempt to make him kiss you again with those beautifully sinful lips. Rafe did no such thing though, instead looking to you with those pretty blue eyes as he gripped the dress tighter in his palms, the fabric moving higher, exposing more and more, his thigh pressing to you again. You let out a whine at the feel of it, lips parting in pleasure at his actions. “Let me hear you say it, baby. Say you like the attention.”

“I like it,” you gasped out, desperate for him to do something, anything, even in this dimly lit hallway where anyone could catch the both of you. “I like it so fucking much, Rafe. I like the feel of eyes on me, especially yours.”

Rafe moaned low in his throat, one hand moving to grip your jaw as he kissed you, lips moving open with yours and slipping his tongue in your mouth, the grip he had tightening ever so slightly the more time that went by. You had no idea when he'd picked you up, forcing your legs around his waist and pressing you further into the wall, his lips leaving yours to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, chest and shoulders. You almost lost it completely when he trailed further down, following the plunge of your dress and kissing the space between your tits, sucking ever so gently. “Fuck, Rafe,” you moaned when his body seemed to go down with his head, ending up with you practically sitting on his squatted knees as he gripped your sides with his large palms, holding your body to him tightly as he continued his trail of warm and wet kisses on your exposed skin.

Rafe allowed his tongue to lick a stripe of your exposed tit on your left side, the whine that emitted from your lips at his sinful action echoing in the hallway. Rafe pulled his head back from you, eyes blown wide as he looked to you. “Fucking Christ, do you wanna get caught baby?”

At the half-assed shake of your head, too desperate to feel his mouth back on you, his hands trailed down your body and instead clutched your ass, holding you possessively to him as he straightened his knees and stood straight, a gasp emitting from your lips when he did so and caused friction right to your pussy at the movement. Rafe seemed to realise what he did at the same time you did, and the moan that left his own mouth was one you never wanted to forget. “Fuck, let’s get you out of here.”

The best place available in the country club turned out to be the family bathroom. You had no time to dwell on how big the space was, almost as big as your entire living room in your house, before you were set down on the marble counter and pulled back to Rafe’s mouth once more. You wasted no time in returning his hot kiss, your hands at the back of his neck as his slid under the slits of your dress and clutched your thighs for a few seconds before trailing higher and landing one hand over your thin panties, cupping your pussy.

“Fuck me,” you moaned loudly. Rafe grinned against your lips, pearly white teeth clashing with your own.

“That’s the plan, sweetheart,” he mumbled against you and you panted as he started to move down your body, peppering kisses along your body on his way, before he landed between your legs, his palms on your knees as he kneeled on his own. “Open your legs,” he demanded and you did as asked with no hesitation, causing him to chuckle darkly. “Needy aren’t we, baby?”

Of fucking course you were, you wanted to say. You’d been waiting for this all night, you wished to speak. But you bit your tongue, not wanting to delay any action any further. When you didn’t answer, however, Rafe tugged on the back of your knees slightly, causing your ass to slip from the counter a little bit, your pussy more exposed and closer to his face as he awaited your response. “Yes, Rafe! I’m fucking needy.”

“Good girl,” he cooed, and you whined lightly when he blew on your core, goosebumps forming on your skin. Rafe bundled your dress in his warm palms, moving it so it was above your hips and you were fully on show to him, your white lace panties completely soaked through. Rafe groaned at the sight, looking at your pussy like it was water and he hadn’t had a drink in days. “So fucking wet,” he muttered, more to himself than you, and you weren’t sure if he wanted an answer to that but he didn’t wait for one anyway, pulling your panties down your legs and throwing them carelessly behind him. “I’ve been waiting for your pretty pussy all night.”

“Oh god,” you moaned when his fingers trailed along you, large digits on either side of your clit as he pressed them together and grinned when you screamed at the friction. You watched as his dirty blonde head went between your thighs, and felt his hot mouth on you not a second later. He was so fucking good, you thought, you never wanted this to end even though it had only just started, not wanting to waste another minute of your life without Rafe Cameron between your thighs.

His tongue was leaving long trails, and he flattened it out against you making you shiver. One hand left your knee to grip the back of your calf as he slipped his tongue in your pussy, your head banging against the mirror behind you. His fingers followed after, his tongue leaving you only to be replaced by his long digits as you moaned helplessly from above him, one hand gripping the counter while the other tugged on his hair. When you pulled particularly hard on the strands, he would hum against you and it would send a whole new wave of pleasure throughout your body that you had to stop yourself from screaming too loudly every time.

You could distinctly hear the beat of the music coming from the party occurring outside, the beginning of Bruce Springsteen’s smooth voice hitting your ears as he sang along to Dancing In the Dark, before the sound was replaced by your own scream as Rafe entered a second finger into your pussy, his tongue sucking on your clit simultaneously.

Everything was too much and you weren’t sure how much more you could take, feeling the familiar build of light pressure in your belly as you managed to rasp out, “Rafe, I’m gonna cum,” into the room, and you weren’t even sure he heard you before he pulled his face away, his fingers moving at a perfect rhythm and pace still within you.

“Hold it, baby,” he was saying, blue eyes staring up into your own as you shook your head in a silent plea, begging to be able to let go. The hand that wasn’t fucking you reached up under your dress and found your tit, fondling it in his palm and lightly squeezing your nipple between the rough pads of his fingertips. “C’mon baby, just a second. You think you can take another finger?”

You were practically seeing stars already, your orgasm right there within reach, but you nodded despite yourself, wanting this wonderful feeling to never end. Rafe smiled as he moved his head in closer again, pressing a kiss to your clit as he mumbled, “That’s my girl,” into you before adding another finger as promised, three fingers deep in your cunt.

The feel of his fingers fucking you, his mouth upon you, the excitement of the night and thrill of the possibility of getting caught in the bathroom at the country club, mixed with the thud of the music and low groans from Rafe was evading every one of your thoughts and you couldn’t think clearly, you weren’t even sure what you were doing, but you knew that you were begging, praising, screaming into the thick air that the pair of you had created. Rafe’s head was still buried deep between your thighs, and the sight of him down there could have ended you in itself.

“Cum for me, baby,” the vibration of his voice on your cunt had you gasping, fingers knotting in his hair as your spine curled so much that your forehead was pressed against the cool glass of the mirror you were seated against, shoving your pussy further up into his mouth and effectively causing his fingers to curl beautifully inside you. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let go.”

It hit you like a train: your vision blurred, your chest heaved, your stomach clenched, and your legs and arms turned to jelly. Throughout it all Rafe still remained there, fingers buried in you and riding out your orgasm with you. His mouth detached from your pussy and he chose to watch you come undone by him instead, his cherry red lips parted in amazement as he watched you scream from above him. You gasped as you felt his fingers leave you, opening your eyes to watch him take the soaked digits into his mouth and suck them clean, a moan of approval leaving his mouth at the taste. You had no time to register him going back in, his mouth back on your pussy and licking you clean of your cum, a loud and needy whine falling past your lips at the sight.

When he pulled back, a satisfied smile upon his glistening lips, he wasted no time in leaning up and pressing back against you, one arm curling round your back and pulling you flush against him, the other in your hair as he kissed you, the taste of you on his tongue.

“I think you should come to Midsummer’s more often,” he mumbled, and you smiled against his lips, legs wrapping around his waist and heels pressing to his ass causing him to rub against your exposed core.

“If it’s gonna end up with me getting fucked by you in the bathroom every time, then I don’t see why I should complain.” You cheekily taunted, your own lips moving along his jaw.

Rafe growled low in his throat, his blue eyes catching his reflection in the mirror behind you, watching as you sucked on his neck. He grinned to himself, a hand palming your ass as he watched.

“How about I fuck you right now against this counter and make you watch, huh?”

(Fuck, maybe Midsummer’s wasn’t so bad as you originally thought after all.)

#outerbanks rafe #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe smut #rafe obx #outer banks x you #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outer banks #obx imagine #obx fic #drew starkey

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sharkbait77 · 3 years ago

Text

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter Five: Just A Man

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Fluff! (It's getting cute y'all!), death of a parent, grief, smoking, food, Silas🤢, a little sad Ezra in this one

W/C: 4k (made it a little longer to make up for the wait! 🥺)

A/N: We are back! I'm so so so sorry this took so long to get out! What can I say, life happened & kept knocking me down & I couldn't find the strength to write for this fic. I'm still not even completely happy with this chapter, but after reading it so many times, I think it's okay lol a huge thanks to everyone for being so patient & lovely to me ♥️ okay, I'll shut up, hope you enjoy!

Series || Main || Taglist || AO3

Chapter Four || Chapter Six

~MAY EIGHTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

As the days and weeks passed, Ezra finally felt comfortable enough to join you and Pa for meals at your family table, sitting and eating quietly until responding to a thought or question of Pa’s. It felt nice. It felt…warm and natural. As opposed to the slight coldness you’ve felt sitting with Pa, without your mother. Though it was still as quiet as your meals alone with your father, the silence now was more comforting.

You realized shortly after that last evening under the tree with Ezra what exactly ails you when near him, why exactly your pulse quickens and you feel heat flush your neck and cheeks. It was a startling conclusion, given that you have been inexperienced when it comes to the term ‘love’, outside of the love you felt for Ma and Pa. This, with Ezra, contrasts immensely.

It had caught you off guard, a small infatuation with the man that you realized must have taken hold of your heart from the first moment you met him, when you simply could not remove your eyes from his face. You now find your eyes lingering on his features longer, learning the curve of his smile, the fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, memorizing the tone of his voice and his laugh to be replayed in moments of silence.

It’s strange; a simple emotion that you had witnessed your whole childhood into adulthood from your Ma and Pa, an emotion you carry in your heart for each of them, though the way you experience it now, the strength in which it has grasped onto your very being – and so suddenly – has been enough to make the room spin whenever you lay your eyes on him. The idea of taking a husband has never been one of priority. Up until now, at least.

“Many thanks for the delicious meal, miss. I am grateful you have welcomed me into your home as such,” Ezra says as he stands, helping you take the soiled dishes to the wash basin.

“You have always been welcome, Mr. Prospect. I am glad you now feel comfortable joining us,” you say with a gentle smile, looking up at him as he approaches you with the dishes. You catch a faint hue of pink spreading across his sun kissed cheeks.

“Would you care for a pipe, Mr. Prospect?” Pa calls out as he sits in his chair by the fireplace, beginning to pack away tobacco in his own pipe.

“I very much appreciate the offer, sir, however I do not smoke,” Ezra replies kindly as he turns away from you to face Pa and you begin washing.

“Good man; do not start the nasty habit until you become old and worn as I am now,” Pa jests.

“I only see a wise man, years of strength and kindness the only evidence that you have lived a wonderful life thus far,” Ezra compliments and Pa releases a hearty laugh.

“As I said: ‘old’,” Pa replies and both Ezra and you laugh along.

The genuine and natural lightheartedness of the conversations Pa and Ezra shared tonight warms your heart and you realize tonight has been one of the few nights you’ve smiled so freely, so frequently, since Ma’s passing and you strongly sense her spirit surrounding the three of you. Almost as if you could hear her laughing along with you all.

Although a feeling of sadness lingers in your heart that she cannot be here physically, you remember Ezra’s kind words and let them ease you. The comfort you feel wash over you leaves you pondering if it’s a sign of acceptance from above, from Ma, that she welcomes Ezra’s presence amongst you and Pa.

“Can I be of any assistance, Sunflower?” Ezra turns and asks quietly, out of earshot of Pa and addressing you by his personal endearment he has bestowed upon you.

“Thank you for offering, Ezra,” you reply just as softly. His given name had nearly slipped from your lips on more than one occasion tonight, but you felt it best to remain coy in front of your father. “I’m nearly finished now.”

“Perhaps tomorrow night. I will not miss my chance then to be of service,” he smiles and the inside of your cheek stings from the bite you dealt to keep from grinning widely. “I will take my leave for the night. The lovely beasts I room with will be missing my presence, I fear,” he says, loud enough for Pa to hear as well and Pa chuckles at his statement.

“Always a pleasure to have you for dinner, Mr. Prospect,” Pa says and stands to shake Ezra’s hand. “Daughter, would you be so kind as to walk Mr. Prospect to the door?”

“Yes Pa,” you nod, abandoning the soapy dishes for the time being and you wipe your hands to dry on your apron as you head towards the door with Ezra.

Pa smiles again in Ezra’s direction as he walks past and takes his seat once again, watching the flames dance and flicker. Ezra opens the door, allowing you to walk through and step on the porch and he follows suit, shutting the door behind him.

“Shall I walk you to the barn?” You offer.

“No, Sunflower, I would prefer you to stay. The dark of night may carry with it many dangers lurking around the corner.”

“All the more reason I should walk with you,” you grin, wrapping your arms around the wooden support post as you watch him step down into the dirt.

“Then I would intend on escorting you back here and we will only find ourselves repeating the action for one another until daybreak,” he chuckles. “Until tomorrow, dear Sunflower.”

“Tomorrow,” you smile and nod. “Good night, Ezra.”

“Good night,” he bows his head in farewell and turns on his heels to head toward the barn. You linger a moment longer to assure he is well on his way, waving when he turns back to steal another glance at you.

You take a deep breath to calm your galloping heart and turn to walk back inside, Pa sitting quietly as he continues smoking. You head back to the wash basin to finish the chore, rinsing, drying, and putting away the dishes before heading over to sit next to Pa, grabbing a new book from your small collection.

You decided to leave Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland to read with Ezra under the tree and the image of the two of you lying in the grass as you read to him brings a contented smile to your face. After quite a bit of comfortable silence, you feel the curiosity inching through your brain like an insect and decide to give in to the itch.

“H-how are the crops faring, Pa?” You ask while picking at the corner of your book.

“They grow fine,” Pa replies simply. “Each and every week another inch to their lives added.”

“And… Mr. Prospect has been much help?” You continue carefully.

“Oh yes, he has taken on the majority of the labor. We are blessed that he sought to help us.”

“Yes,” you smile softly as you lower your head slightly, gathering the courage to continue the conversation. “And… How do you feel about… Mr. Prospect?”

“What do you mean, child?”

“The townspeople think him...odd.”

“They must reflect on themselves before passing that judgement onto an innocent man. Especially the four hens, as you like to call them,” you giggle and look up at Pa, a slight smirk hidden beneath his thick, grey beard as he lets out a deep chuckle.

“Yes, but… What do you think of Mr. Prospect?”

“Why the curiosity, daughter?” He asks, though no irritation is found in his voice; instead, a light-hearted tone, one of knowing. Knowing why you insist on finding out his opinion.

“Merely curious, Pa,” you say quietly, just loud enough for him to hear over the crackle of the fire.

“Hm,” he hums as he inhales smoke through his pipe, taking his time to retrieve an forthright answer from his mind while you gaze at him in anticipation.

“He is an honest man. Good and kind. A hard worker. I believe he is fit to be a lawful husband to any girl who seeks his affection,” he finally says, looking deep into your eyes and his words go straight to your fast beating heart.

You catch the smile on your face growing, evident in the strain you feel across your cheeks and you put your head down to face the book in your lap.

“That's nice,” you reply once you've cleared your throat and regained control of the muscles on your face.

“Yes. Yes it is,” Pa smirks as he inhales another puff from his pipe.

~MAY TENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Today is as exhilarating as the rest; you attempt to sort through the inventory of the shop, taking note of which supplies are dwindling while also marking down new items the townspeople have requested, such as candles and playing cards for the children. As you walk toward the back of the shop, beginning your count of products there, the shop bell dings and you hear boots stomping from whoever has stepped through the door.

“Just a moment, please,” you call out to the customer from over your shoulder, hoping not to lose track of the count in your head.

“Please, do not rush, Sunflower,” a gentle, familiar voice replies and you feel your heart thumping faster in your chest now as you turn quickly, inventory be damned.

“Ezra,” you greet the man standing meekly at the front of the shop. He takes a few steps forward to meet you beside the counter. “What brings you to town? Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Oh, no thank you, Sunflower. I needed to send a letter off at the post and thought that my day would be much brighter were I able to visit you as well,” he says with a soft grin and you lower your head to hide the bashful expression on your face.

“Well, my day has brightened now, too,” you reply, gaining the courage to look up at him again, the apples of his cheeks reddening. “I trust you were promptly taken care of then?”

“Yes, Mr. Williams is a kind man,” he nods. “The elderly woman who works there as well – she is quite the conversationalist,” he releases a soft laugh.

“Ah, yes. Mrs. Williams,” you shake your head. “She actually does not work there, just adores to be in the center of it all,” you jest and Ezra chuckles. “I do hope she was not too overbearing.”

“Only slightly,” he shrugs. “After you and your Pa, her and Mr. Williams have treated me the kindest since my arrival.”

“Oh Ezra,” you share a perturbed look. “I am truly sorry for the way the town has behaved.”

“Sunflower, you have no reason whatsoever to apologize for the actions of others. Unfortunately, this town has not been the most unpleasant I’ve come across. I was very lucky to have found you. And your Pa,” he rushes the last phrase and you smile knowingly, his mouth curving slightly as well.

You open your mouth to continue the conversation, the innocent coquetry between you, yet no sounds are released from your mouth before the shop bell dings again and you sigh at the interruption. You turn your head and your racing heart, caused by Ezra’s presence, races faster, only in anger now.

“And what do we have here?” Silas’s booming, uninvited voice resonates through the shop. “What business could a queer like you have to conduct in town?” He looks at Ezra and you step in front of him.

“I told you not to call him that, Silas.”

“It does not seem he’s made any purchase,” he says, making a show of looking in Ezra’s hands for any paper bag. “Yet he is allowed to stay and converse while you toss me in the dirt.”

“Go away, Silas.”

“Sunflower-” Ezra calls gently from behind you, unable to finish his thought.

“‘Sunflower’?!” Silas laughs. “She does not need a freak to endear her, not when she has a real man. Like me.”

“Silas, he is more of a man than you could ever hope to be,” you spit out.

Of all the times you had the opportunity to speak your mind to Silas, you held back. Though, now that it is directed to Ezra, you feel that innate protectiveness for him wash over you again, no matter the cost or consequence.

“You dare say such a thing to me, girl?” Silas takes a menacing step forward.

“She is not a girl and you will not speak to her as one,” Ezra moves to stand in front of you now. “And I do believe she has requested for you to take your leave.”

“And exactly who will force me out? You?” Silas puffs out his chest, as if he were attempting to assert his role as an alpha, and frustration grows on his face at Ezra’s lack of response to the tactic.

“If I must.” Ezra replies simply and calmly, the tone of his voice even, though underneath lies a hidden message that he would not back down from a brawl, if it were to come to that.

“Ezra, please, he isn’t worth it,” you say softly, reaching out to hold his forearm.

“Oh, aren’t I?” Silas scoffs.

“I will summon Sheriff Wilson here to collect you himself if you do not leave my shop right this instant,” you hold your unyielding gaze to Silas’s, raising your chin slightly so as to challenge him to defy your wishes.

Silas hmph’s, his thick brows arching menacingly as he glances down at where your hand rests firmly on Ezra’s arm, clearly displeased at the contact. You feel Ezra’s form tense next to you, and you use your free hand to lightly press against his back in an effort to calm him.

“Fine,” Silas finally says harshly as he turns his back to you and Ezra and stomps to the door.

He looks over his shoulder one more time at the two of you and something about his animalistic eyes sends a nasty shiver down your spine. Before he can see you falter, he rips the door open, walks through, and slams it shut, rattling the frame as he leaves. You exhale shakily and Ezra turns his body to face yours, his hands gripping onto your upper arms as his eyes rake over your face in concern.

“Are you alright, Sunflower?”

“Oh Ezra,” you gaze at him thoughtfully. “It should be me asking you that same question.”

“Please, don’t worry about me. My only concern is you,” he continues, his eyes trying to follow yours as you look away from him. “Does he come here unannounced often? Has he bothered you before?”

“Ezra, he has always been a thorn in my side, but it is nothing for you to concern yourself with. I promise,” you look in his eyes, hoping to convince him, but you suspect it does not work and his hands fall from your arms.

“Sunflower… I did not appreciate the way he looked at you and spoke to you.”

“It’s alright Ezra, it is not anything I can’t handle,” you smile and grasp one of his hands in both of yours, squeezing it gently as reassurance.

You’re unsure of what to say. What could you say? That up until now you have been cowardly when it came to Silas Taylor? That it was not until Ezra’s arrival to town that you have come to know a stronger side of yourself, willing to risk your already frail reputation to defend this man’s name?

Ezra sighs heavily, staring into your eyes a moment longer before looking away. You watch his eyebrows crinkle together, the worry wrinkles along his forehead becoming more prominent as he reflects on the situation that just passed.

“Are you alright? Please… Do not take anything he says to heart,” you say softly and your kind voice pulls him back from his thoughts and to this moment with you. He smirks and huffs a chuckle through his nose.

“No fear, Sunflower. It is not a trial I cannot handle,” he cocoons your hands in both of his and squeezes lightly, as if to reassure you he is alright. “I will go now, Sunflower.”

“I understand,” you nod. “Then… I will see you back at the farm for supper.”

He smiles to acknowledge your words, releasing your hands and heading to the door. He turns once more to nod his goodbye, places his hat back on his head, and walks out the door. You walk to the front of the shop to watch him through the window, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped forward as he walks swiftly to leave the area.

Your head feels on fire, ready to blow steam at any moment as you watch the townspeople around staring at him. They turn to each other, presumably whispering gossip amongst themselves about him. Unfortunately, as you have come to know Silas, you know he will be spreading word of the ‘threat’ he felt from Ezra, which you surmise will only result in the townspeople turning their backs on Ezra even further.

~MAY TWELFTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Ezra had not shown up for supper that night or the night that followed. You had wanted to take supper to him, but Pa advised against it. He had heard on his last trip to town what transpired between you, Ezra, and Silas. You prepared yourself to, once again, defend Ezra, however, Pa’s unabated rancor of Silas all but guaranteed Pa would not believe a word from his mouth.

Pa informed you that when he returned and asked Ezra about the situation, he assured the man that he was not at risk of losing the job at the farm, and while he was grateful, he did not wish to speak on it further. Pa told you to leave him to gather his bearings and you complied.

On your way to the oak tree, you pick two apples as you had done the Sunday prior, and to your earnest disappointment, you do not see Ezra as the tree comes into view. You look left, then right, hoping it was possible he had just walked along the riverbank, but you were alone.

Heaving a sigh, you turn to face the way you came as you debate on heading back. Your weekly tradition almost seemed silly to continue alone, after having been in Ezra’s company the past few weeks. It almost felt...incorrect to spend time here without Ezra now. You take a few steps forward, now under the shade of the tree, sparing another moment in case you missed him.

“Sunflower,” his elated voice from above frightens you and you quickly turn your head to follow the sound, seeing his bright smile from where he sits on a thick branch.

“Ezra! You startled me!” You chuckle as you take a few breaths, covering your racing heart with your hand.

“My apologies,” he chuckles. “I did not hear you walk up otherwise I would have made my presence known sooner.”

“I did not expect to see you in the tree today,” you smile up at him.

“Come, join me,” he smiles, patting the bark to the side of him.

“I have not climbed a tree since I was a child, Ezra. I will fall,” you shake your head.

“I will never let you fall, Sunflower,” he smiles and your now settled heart begins to race again. “It’s simple, really. Nothing to it. I will guide your steps.”

You take a deep breath, pondering for a moment if the risk was truly worth it, but there’s an excitement in this small adventure that you feel your soul reaching for. You smile at Ezra and nod, removing your bag and placing it at the base of the tree.

You follow Ezra’s voice commands as he tells you where to step up and you use more muscles in your body than you have in so long. You heave yourself upwards, careful that your boots do not miss any section of the tree that will have you flying all the way back down.

Finally, you make it far enough for Ezra to take hold of your arm, using his strength now to help pull you up until you’re close enough to attempt to sit. He scoots over, keeping his hand tightly grasped on your arm to make sure you don’t fall. Though, at this point, if you were to fall, Ezra would certainly fall with you.

You plant your bottom firmly onto the branch, breathing heavily and smiling widely at the accomplishment and Ezra chuckles along with you. You try to settle yourself further and suddenly get the sense of falling, reaching out instinctively to hold onto Ezra’s arm and you practically glue yourself to his side for support.

“You will not fall, Sunflower,” he reassures and you feel him lean closer into you to comfort you.

“Pardon me,” you giggle, feeling steady enough now to remove yourself from him. You take a deep breath and look out ahead at the river and the grassland, spotting the other farms in the distance. “Wow,” you say breathlessly. “It’s a beautiful sight.”

“Yes, it is,” Ezra responds softly. You turn your head to him where you already meet his gaze and turn away again as you smile.

“Oh no,” you gasp as your eyes meet your bag down below. “I left the book… And the apples,” you turn to frown at Ezra.

“Do not fret, Sunflower,” he smiles. “I enjoy your company regardless.”

“Maybe...you could read me more of your prose?” You prod gently, hoping he will be willing.

“Yes,” he says wistfully as he glances down at his journal. “I do like when you read to me, however.”

You smile as he passes his journal to you and you cradle it with care in your hands. You move to open it and the binding opens automatically to one page, clearly still stiff from where he had it open, this addition to the pages only written just recently. You clear your throat and let your eyes dance as they pick up the words in his neat handwriting.

“‘A being from a different universe desires to live amongst the men in peace on Earth, for his purpose to be written in the stars. A nomad, an outcast on the run, desperate for a residence more suitable than his dreams. Soon, he will find home, and soon, he will find life’,” your voice trails towards the end of the passage, your heart wrenching at the meaning behind it.

“Ezra…” You call softly once you notice his head has lowered.

The silence stretches and you can almost visualize it expanding across the lands in front of your view, any helpful or comforting words escaping from your reach. The only conclusion your mind seems to come to is just to place a hand softly on his thigh. You feel his muscle twitch at the contact and he glances over at you, a light tint of pink beginning to spread across his cheeks.

You suddenly feel embarrassed to have placed your hand there and you immediately think to yourself that perhaps it was not welcomed, though before you can remove your hand, Ezra places his own, large and warm, over yours. Your mind settles while your heart beats rapidly. You still do not know what to say, but it does not seem Ezra is expecting for you to say anything at all.

“I’ve missed you at supper, Ezra,” you whisper and grin softly.

“Forgive me for my absence, I was not… I did not feel…” You sense him struggling as he lowers his head again and you place your other hand on top of your intertwined ones.

“I understand; you have no need to apologize.”

He looks at you again and you give him a reassuring smile and he returns the gesture. You two say nothing and let the comfortable silence blanket the air around you while you gaze out to your surroundings again, your hands not leaving each other’s grasp.

“Sunflower?” He calls and you turn to face him again.

“Yes, Ezra?”

“I’ve missed you as well.”

Chapter Four || Chapter Six

Series || Main || Taglist || AO3

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @amandalovess @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @pedro4ever @mishasminion360 @wardenparker @librariantothejedi @fan-of-encouragement @javierpinme @writeforfandoms @ew-erin @you-got-me-starry-eyed @beskarboobs @andiesturgss @maryfanson @princessxkenobi @castleamc @magpie-to-the-morning @pbeatriz @radiowallet @stevie75 @honestly-shite @bison-writes @amneris21 @disgruntledspacedad

Ezra Prospect Tags: @quietpainter @grogusmum @tenderwhat

#ezra x f!reader #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra au #ezra prospect au #ezra prospect fanfiction #ezra prospect fanfic #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #prospect #prospect fanfiction

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

Text

The Brooklyn Police Department | Bucky Barnes, Loki Laufeyson, Wanda Maximoff

Hey lovelies! Bringing you some chaos team comedy on this fine Tuesday evening. This one was so much fun to write! Please do enjoy!

Appetizers (Tags): Fluff / Comedy

Entres (Pairing): Bucky Barnes x F!Reader, Loki Laufeyson x F!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader (Third Person)

Sides (Prompts): 1: “I don’t like it when you have plans.”, 12: “I should not be left in charge of stuff like this. I don’t get paid enough. I don’t get paid, period.” , 16: “Can you believe they call us criminals when he’s assaulting us with that haircut?”

Notes: Requested by @imdreamingwiththestars (you better like this lol I tried to get to your level of humor but gods know I'll never be as funny as you)

Word Count: 1.2k

Dinner at Dizzy’s Master List

“I think while we sit here we should recap why we’re all here— sound good?” She meets the eyes of three, not so happy Avengers, and smiles.

“No.” Bucky grumbles from across from her, arms crossed against his chest, scowl illuminated by the lights of the police station jail cell.

She rolls her eyes, kicking out her foot to nudge his boot. “Well too bad, it wasn’t a question. Communication is the key to happy relationships.”

“With all due respect, love—” a hand curls around her waist, drawing her attention from the annoyed super soldier to the amused god— “we all communicated and we still ended up in prison.”

“Jail—” Wanda cuts in, a sugary smile on her face— “we’re in jai, not prison. It’s different. I think.”

Bucky huffs at that and the redhead lolls her face onto his shoulder, crossing her arms as well. He blinks down at her, rolling his eyes but letting it happen, his cheeks reddening slightly under the fluorescents.

“Is it?” Loki mumbles, one of his eyebrows quirking up. “We don’t have two prison systems on Asgard. I would know. What’s the difference?”

Bucky nudges y/n’s foot back, tossing it back and forth absentmindedly. “It’s kinda like you go to jail for the petty things— like the ‘you’re an idiot for getting caught’ things— and you go to prison for the horrible things— the ‘we’re idiots for not catching you sooner’ things.”

Wanda laughs, closing her eyes. “If that’s the case then maybe we should be in prison— they’re the idiots for not catching us sooner.”

The other two laugh as well, clearly agreeing, and y/n has to bite her lip to keep from joining in. She should not be laughing at the fact that they’re all in jail together. It is kind of funny, though— the circumstances that is. Only they could manage to do something like this.

“I still can’t believe you made all the cars in the city disappear.” She huffs, the corner of her traitorus mouth ticking up.

The red-haired girls eyes fly open, cheeks flooding the same shade. “It was an accident!”

“And—” Loki chimes in matter of factly, leaning down to brush his nose across her cheek— “we brought them all back. So, no harm done.”

She barks out a laugh, slipping her hand up around his jaw, patting his cheek lightly. “Oh yeah, no harm at all, baby. Just tri-state trauma. A couple thousand trips to therapy. Can someone tell me again why, though, you made the cars disappear?”

Wanda pouts at her and y/n scrunches her nose— she wants to be mad so badly but it’s impossible. She’s too cute. They all are. It’s infuriating. She passes the witch a small smile, the humor of the situation catching up to her. She falls deeper against the trickster god, dropping her hand from his cheek and instead lacing her fingers with his. In turn his lips press against her head.

Bucky shrugs, drawing her attention to the super soldier. “I don’t like it when you have plans.”

He says it so nonchalantly, an easy grin spread across his handsome face. He says it like it’s a fact. She supposes that it is but that still doesn’t explain anything. She nudges his foot back, rolling her eyes, and all he does is wink at her. It’s quite clear that he doesn’t give a single shit about the actions that lead up to his back being pressed against the concrete wall of the Brooklyn Police Department cells.

“To be fair—” Wanda adds— “it was only supposed to be one car.”

“Your car.” Loki.

She sighs— she should have seen that one coming. “My car?”

“Yep.”

“Yes.”

The god and the witch give their affirmatives and her eyes flit to Bucky for the third confirmation.

“I really don’t like when you have plans?” Bucky shrugs again, only looking slightly more guilty about it— as in, not at all still.

She sighs, thumping her head against Loki. “I was going grocery shopping— and I asked if you wanted to come with me!”

The god behind her laughs, his chest purring below her. “And I told you, love, that I didn’t.”

“So the immediate course of action was to make my car vanish?”

Bucky snorts and Wanda giggles alongside him, both clearly amused. “We were on a time crunch, doll. You were walking out the door.”

Y/n huffs, smile twisting her lips, a few giggles spilling out of her lips. A family of criminals, that’s now what they are. Quite literally as thick as thieves. Stark’s probably having a field day with this one right now. She can already hear the lecture. You’re supposed to be keeping them in line, Y/n. Whatever, tinman. How about you try it if it’s so easy. She giggles harder— she would give all the money in her wallet to see him in this cell.

“You guys are the worst—” she laughs, finally breaking because, hey, what else is she supposed to do— “I can’t believe you got me taken down with you. I’m an innocent!”

“Aiding and abetting is still a crime.” Bucky teases.

“How did I—”

“You tried to shove me in the closet.” Wanda deapans.

Oh. Yeah. She did do that, didn’t she? Oops.

“If you hadn’t have started laughing it would have worked.” She grumbles back, shaking her head at the witch who— as is on brand for her at this point— giggles.

“It’s not my fault! Bucky was—”

“I should not be left in charge of stuff like this. I don’t get paid enough. I don’t get paid, period.”

Wanda’s plea gets lost in the sound of an exhausted, familiar voice. Pepper Potts rounds the corner in the next second, head turned to the guard beside her, keys clutched firmly in one hand and cellphone in the other, held away from her face. The press no doubt.

“Never date an Avenger—” she scolds the guard, her tone light but her eyes serious— “you’ll go grey at thirty.”

Pepper’s eyes snap to y/n and she raises her strawberry blonde brows, shaking her head. That was definitely aimed at her. Too late, Pepper. Another guard rounds the corner, stopping to join the conversation, and y/n turns back to the rag tag team— her rag tag team— reiterating Pepper’s head shake through one of her own. She slides forward, pulling Loki along with her, until she's huddled against the wall between the super soldier and the god. Wanda doesn’t protest, only sits up long enough for her head to shift from one shoulder to the next.

For a few moments they just sit there in silence, listening to Pepper bargain for their freedom, until finally Bucky speaks up, his voice gravelly and not nearly as low as should be. He really doesn’t give a fuck.

“Can you believe they call us criminals when he’s assaulting us with that haircut?”

Three groans sound— three stifled giggles— as Pepper’s head springs up, her eyes bugging out of her face.

“Bucky!”

“What did he say?”

“You little punk!” Little— sure.

And that is the story of how James “Bucky” Barnes earned a witch, a god, a girlfriend, and him, a super soldier, four extra hours at the Brooklyn Police Department.

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tuagonia · 3 years ago

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sunflower - mason x f!detective

pairing: mason x f!detective (mia garcia)

Summary: mason thinks about mia at the town’s florist.

rating: T

warning: i think there's like...one swear word.

word count: ~1.7k

note: lol ok since i flopped at getting mason x mia done for the hotwayhaven event.... i have been waiting to write this for a while and the amazing event organisers at @wayhavensummer finally gave me the excuse I was waiting for to fully indulge in this. thanks for hosting and putting in all the great work!! This is for Aug. 18 - Flowers.

They remind him of her.

Large and dangling free from her ears; brightly painted papier-mâché “monstrosities”.

That’s the word he’d used to describe them, making no effort to mask his distaste.

Instead, Mia smiled widely in response, reaching up to touch one at its faux-stalks. It stopped that distracting swing, back and forth with every slight movement of her head. Chuckling, and pride lifting her cheery tone, she told Mason she made them herself.

Lemony-yellow, mossy-green, the burnt-chestnut centre.

All crammed together outside of the tiny flower shop. Dozens upon dozens of them staring back at him; yellower under the blaze of the mid-August sun.

A makeshift sign stuffed among the mass of summer-ripe bouquets reads: “TOP QUALITY. Giant Sunnys £14 per bunch”.

Mason is just looking.

He tells himself there’s no harm in just looking.

And anyway, they’re hard to miss under the hot sun. It’s not his fault they’re in the way of his usual patrol route. Quite literally.

Bundles and bundles of large sunflowers, taking up the pavement. Usually, grey and cracked, now overrun with the sight of them. The florist’s quaint store looks like a child’s plaything next to the dramatic assortment.

He has to blink, thinking the sunshine and its heat has started playing tricks on him. It’s almost as if they multiply; little suns with their earthly centres, drawing him closer.

From the moment he rounded the corner to the main square, he never stood a chance against the brilliance of them.

Mason should have kept moving. He doesn’t have time for this— to stop mid-patrol, to idle in front of flowers.

But they remind him of her.

Not just of the — and his lip curls at the memory — weird handmade jewellery.

(A set for every occasion.

Cakes and candles for colleagues’ birthdays, candy canes for Christmas, glittery hearts the size of her fists for Valentine’s Day. Tiny pieces of reflective plastic shedding onto her delicate neck).

They remind him of the sunshiney smiles. The ones she so easily tosses his way, like they’re never any work, like they could never go to waste. Always patient, always bright, always...happy.

And as he glares down at them, he realises they don’t offend him. The observation renders him sceptical, partly convincing himself he’s stopped to figure out why he hasn’t felt repulsed at the overwhelming powdery aroma.

It’s not floral. No. Instead, it reminds him of...reminds him of… Mason racks his brain and frowns accusingly at the vivid flowers opened up at him.

Mason reaches for one, fingers wrapping around its surprisingly sturdy stalk.

He’s still just looking. He just— he just needs to get a closer whiff to figure this out.

Honey. That’s what it is.

Mason’s frown deepens at the realisation. His grip on the flower shifts, the skin of his palm uncomfortable against the fuzzy stem.

Bright and honey-sweet.

(There’s that memory of her kiss, soft and saccharine as powdered-sugar; should make his teeth hurt.)

The crown of gold petals distracts him, fills him with a warm something that he’s more desperate than annoyed to figure out. He can’t place it, can’t place it, can’t place it— wants to know it.

Maybe it’s the frustration of chasing after the unnamable thing that makes him forget the purpose of stopping, the reason why he plucked the flower to begin with.

...so distracted he doesn't hear when the round-cheeked vendor pops their head outside of the shop, all smiles that he feels nothing for (not her like smiles, though. Nothing like her smiles).

They mention the weather and ask if they can be of any help, but Mason’s attention slides back to the sunflower in his fist. But he shakes his head, unconvincingly but he’ll never know.

It’s the heat, he thinks. The arse-end of nowhere town at the tail-end of an unforgiving heatwave.

But just as he’s about to slot the stalk back into its bucket, the vendor stops him— shaking their head emphatically, their grin growing by the second. They sweep of their hands in a take it, take it, please motion, and send Mason off. They shoot him wink from overly-kind eyes.

Like they might be in on some big secret, and Mason will be the last in this entire godforsaken town to know.

There’s no harm in taking the flower, Mason insists, staring down into its dark-brown centre.

He’ll hold onto it until he can find the next rubbish bin, and in the mean time he’ll try not to think about how it reminds him of the dusting of dark freckles across her nose.

(He gets it now. He gets it when he’s with Mia.

He understands — finally — why everyone before her kissed his freckles like they wanted to taste the stars.

Her galaxies, his constellations. Every time they meet, Mason expects a seismic shift to take them asunder.)

His usual strides have shortened, his pace slower than normal, his senses overwhelmed by the true yellow of its petals.

For a moment, Mason forgets all about the patrol and just...walks.

It’s a quiet and lazy summer day. The sun (high and hot) urges residents to stay in the shade, seeks refuge in cool indoors. The streets are empty. Sleepy. So, he takes his time, the crease on his brow deepening with every side street he takes.

It’s hot inside his boots. That’s the only reason he’s leaning against her tin can of a car, outside of the station, holding this ostentatiously large flower.

A quick detour for some shade. That’s all it is. And when there’s a whisper of a breeze, rustling the leaves of the tree above him and the little crown of petals in his hand, it’s all the more cooler.

Mason can hear her colleagues moving in and out of the station, but pays them no mind as time moves on, still staring down at the flower in his grip. It’s far too large to twirl it with sturdy fingers, forcing him to keep studying it and wondering what exactly about it brings Mia to mind.

Lively, but not intense.

(Her laugh, he guesses. Loud and clear, broken up by giggles. The sound of it never jarring.)

A drop of sunlight, buried underground. Persists and blossoms through cracked earth.

(Her kindness, he ascertains. Not to be mistaken for weakness. As easy as she can dole-out radiant smiles, her sharp tongue can just as quickly follow.)

...like he’s been holding a piece of her this entire time.

The taut pull at his cheeks is foreign, and he lets the corners of his mouth drop.

Pointless because Mason hears a familiar drumming, a quick skip he’s grown used to over the last years.

He looks up just in time to watch Mia push through the station’s glass doors. At the top of the steps, she stops to survey the car park, and he feels a flutter in his chest when he realises those brown eyes are searching for him. He confirms it when her gaze lands on him and...that smile (the beating inside his chest is ten-fold) breaks out across her face.

She shields her face with a hand, squinting against the harsh glare of sun bouncing off windshields. With easy, unhurried steps she walks towards him and he drinks in the sight of her.

That scratchy yellow cardigan that’s become synonymous with Detective Garcia is nowhere to be seen. Probably thrown over the back of her office chair and forgotten, along with whatever work she’s been putting off all afternoon.

Dark curls scooped up and away from her neck, gives Mason a great view to the line of her throat and down her naked shoulders. A sage strappy shirt stretches down her small frame, trying its best to keep her cool in the heat...reminds him of the stalk in his hand.

He tenses.

Mia’s eyes flicker to the sunflower he’s holding and her smile (fuck, that smile will be the end of him) grows and grows.

All teeth (white, and...harmless with the dull edges) and she gives an airy chuckle.

“That for me?” she asks with one eyebrow lifting into a curly fringe.

Pushing off the car, Mason musters up his best grimace and fights back the fear fighting its way up his spine. He doesn’t understand it, doesn’t know why fear is the first thing that possesses him when she stands this close and gestures to the flower with a tilt of her head.

Before he can respond, before he can let his tongue and fear get the better of him— Mia makes for the sunflower in his grip.

Fear tells him this should be a mistake. This memory must be a mistake; one that he’s sure will be the only one to matter in a dizzying spiral of time: Mia smiling down at this sunflower.

The leaves rustle again, and sunlight filters through, dappling the deep brown of her hair.

She makes it easy, never has to wrestle with the feeling for too long before she distracts him. If it’s not a quip, it’ll be an expression that should not be equal parts funny or cute. Spears Mason somewhere deep, somewhere he doesn’t think he’s touched before— doesn’t know if it could ever be before her.

Mia speaks to the flower, a lone fingertip running over its petals. “It’s very pretty.”

Mason watches her stroke the large leaf at the stalk, leaning in nose-first to catch its scent at the centre, eyes fluttering shut. Dark lashes meet her cheeks, and he follows the line of her freckles (darker in the summertime).

He wants to take his time here too, with the same pace as he did those side streets (seeing parts of Wayhaven he would have never traversed without coaxing).

“Yeah…” his voice is rough and unused, studying as she looks up at the way the branches move above them. Sunlight casting down on her, and that easy smile fixed on her lips. “Very pretty.”

#not proof-read we die like men or w/e #wayhaven summer #rbs whs #twc mason #twc m #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #mason x mia: cigarette with my tea #queue but said like moira rose #tuagonia writes twc

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wicked-mind · 4 years ago

Text

Remember Me: Chapter Six

Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones? Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing (I like swearing. Adds character and sounds pretty to me lol), mentions of surgical procedures and idiots, John Walker, drinking.

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

Note: Next chapter is gonna be a spiral so strap in.

As always, any likes, reblog, or comments are appreciated (:

*gifs not mine

Previously

Y/N rolled her eyes a little bit at his comment, giggling softly, “C’mon, Bucky. It’s not like that, don’t get jealous. John’s just a friend and he may be able to fill in some gaps in my memory.” She reminded, knowing that he would know that was important to her.

Bucky sighs and nods reluctantly, “Alright, fine. We can get together for drinks one night.” He said with a smile down to her. He couldn’t say no to her, never could. Except before she left to serve as a trauma surgeon in the military. That was the one time he had tried to tell her no and that backfired pretty horribly, “I got a question for you, darlin.” He stated, “How did you figure out the girl I talked about was you?”

Y/N smiled, lifting her hands to rest on his cheeks as her thumbs brushed across his stubbled cheeks lightly, “Well, you would always look at me when you talked about her like you were talking to her. You call me those cute pentanes quite a lot. And… well, we looked at each other a little too long to be ‘just friends’ like everybody kept telling me.” Y/N watched his facial features turn into a smile towards her, feeling him grip her waist between his large hands and pulling her closer, “I also just felt safe with you. Like the whole world melted away and it was just you and me and it was familiar feeling.” She finished before standing on her toes and planting a kiss to his lips.

Chapter six - Tell me what happened

It was almost midnight as Y/N slept soundly in her own bed. Her pillow was pressed into the soft pillow case as she dreamt about rain. She didn’t remember the last time she saw rain but she knew it wasn’t overseas while she was serving. It was always too hot and there was too much sand. It was like a beach without water. She sat up quickly when she heard a noise awakened her like tapping on glass. She pulled the covers up to her nose as she looked at her window then sighs and rolls her eyes when she saw Bucky tapping at her window with a big grin. Y/N pulled herself out of bed wearing only a large green t-shirt and walks over to window, prying it open as Bucky stepped in, “What’re you doing, Bucky?” She asks with a small smile.

Bucky crawled through the window and shut it behind him before turning to grin down to Y/N, “Figured I’d come through the window, see if it sparked any memories.” He said softly down to her. He used to sneak into her room quite often when they were younger and he always snuck out before he could be caught. Bucky looked her up and down slowly, raising an eyebrow when he saw she was bottomless, “Are you above pants now?” He teased, reaching out and grabbing her waist between his large hands and pulling her closer. He was only wearing a simple grey t-shirt and some black sweatpants, he had already kicked off his boots immediately after crawling through the window no wanting to leave dirty footprints.

Y/N rolls her eyes at him with a smile, snaking her hands up his chest to wrap around his neck as a soft blush appeared on her cheeks, “I didn’t have any clean bottoms. And we are adults now, you know. I’m sure Steve wouldn’t have a problem with you using the door.” She told him with a tilt of her head, “I need sleep, Buck. It’s my first day back at work in the morning.”

Bucky kept his grin on his lips as she spoke, “It’s just so much more fun crawling through your window.” He chuckled down to her, “I know, doll. I won’t keep you up but I can’t sleep without ya.”

Y/N smiled and released herself from his grasp, “Alright.” She said before grabbing his hand and pulling him onto her bed with her. She pulled the covers up over herself and waited for Bucky to take his shirt off before covering him with the blankets also, “I mean it, don’t keep me up all night.” She said to him once he laid down facing her on the pillow beside her own.

“Oh darlin, I’ll be a perfect angel.” Bucky purred out to her, reaching over and wrapping a hand around her to pull her flush against his chest, “I just needed you in my arms.” He murmurs into the top of her head before leaving a small kiss on her forehead.

Y/N smiled gently against Bucky’s shoulder where her face rested. He was warm and as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head, she felt safe. Everything about him screamed familiarity to Y/N even if she couldn’t exactly remember moments. But something inside her remembered the feeling of Bucky’s arms around her and the way he made her feel-butterflies and all. It wasn’t long until she could hear Bucky softly snoring and she soon followed into sleep safely wrapped in his arms and her blankets.

Steve had heard the small commotion in Y/N’s room and went to check, but as he cracked the door all he saw was Bucky in bed with his sister. He rolls his eyes and shut the door, making his way back to Peggy who was still in bed, “It’s like they’re teenagers still. He’s climbing through her window instead of using the door.” He said with a chuckle and a shake of his head as he crawled into the bed next to Peggy.

Peggy smiled over at him, “I told you it was just James.” She said with a giggle, “It’s nice though. The last time I saw Y/N before she left she was devastated and trying to leave as soon as she could. It’s nice to see her so happy again as well as James.”

Steve nodded in agreement, turning on his side to face his brunette wife, “What if she remembers what he said to her?” He asks gently, worry tinging his voice, “What if she runs again?”

Peggy raised an eyebrow at Steve, “Do you think she would?” She asks simply.

Steve shrugs over towards her, “I don’t know… I only got half the story of what happened. I know what was said between them but there was something else that happened she never told me, the reason it hurt her so badly. I never got an answer about that.” He sighs, “I hope it’ll all work out alright. I’ve never seen her so happy as she is when she’s around Bucky but he is the one who made her run.”

Peggy gently ran her red painted fingers through Steve’s hair comfortingly, “I don’t think James is ever going to hurt her again after what happened last time. He loves her. And if we were in their place, I would forgive you.”

Steve sighs gently again, pulling Peggy close to him and brushing his lips across her’s gently, “Always the optimist. I love you, Pegs.”

—

Bucky groaned awake when Y/N’s alarm went off at six in the morning. He felt her stir and slip out of his grasp to turn off the alarm on her phone. Once it was silenced he grabbed her arm and pulled her back against him, trapping her in the grasp of his arms wrapped around her body. He kissed the back of her head before nuzzling into her shoulder, “Ten more minutes…” He muttered out sleepily.

Y/N giggled as she was pulled back, moving her hands to try and pry off Bucky’s strong arms from around her, “C’mon, I gotta get up for work.” She said softly over to him. With another groan, she felt his grip loosen and she wiggled her way out of his arms. She stood from the bed, stretching her arms a little as she walked to her closet and pulled out some dark maroon scrubs before disappearing out the bedroom door.

Bucky opened one eye to watch her stretch and leave the room, smiling over at her as he watched. It was a wonderful sight for him to wake up to. He used to see her every morning like this and now it felt like a dream. Except it wasn’t- Y/N was real and here with him again. Once she was gone, he grabbed onto her pillow and pulled it into his chest before falling back asleep.

Y/N came back into her room freshly showered and changed into the dark maroon scrubs. She was running a brush through her hair before pulling it up in a pony tail. She made her way over to Bucky, sitting on the edge of the bed and touching his cheek gently, “Hey, Steve’s gonna take me to work. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Bucky opened his eyes at her touch, looking up at her. God she looked like an angel in scrubs. He smiled up at her, “I’m just gonna stay in your bed, doll.” He said softly to her before sitting up a little and leaning towards her, “When do you get off of work?”

Y/N tilts her head at him, “I work from eight this morning to ten tonight.” She informed him, chuckling when she saw him fall back against the bed with a groan at the hours in a defeated fashion, “Maybe you’ll have to rethink staying in my bed. Don’t you ever work?” She teased before continuing, “You can come visit for lunch though if you’d like around one?”

Bucky looked up to her and nodded, tucking his hands behind his head on the pillow, “I own a mechanic shop, darlin. People work for me.” He grins at her, “I’ll bring you something good instead of that crappy hospital food. What’re you doing tomorrow?”

Y/N thought about it for a moment before looking back to him, “I work five am to three pm.”

Bucky grinned over at her, “After three tomorrow you’re mine for the rest of the day.” He told her, reaching a hand over and pulling her arm until she was leaning in front of him. His blue eyes scanned her face for a moment before he pressed his lips to her’s, sneaking his tongue across her bottom lip slowly before pulling away, “Have a good day at work, pretty girl. I’ll pick you up tonight.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open after Bucky separated from her lips. He always left her breathless when his lips touched her’s without even trying to do so, “Okay, you have a good day too and at least try to make it out of bed at some point.” She told him and brushed her hand across his face gently before standing up, snatching her backpack and placing it over her shoulder, and exiting the room with one last glance at him in her bed before disappearing.

The ride to the hospital was pretty quiet on account of Steve barley being awake and groggy but they made small conversation such as Steve commenting and saying Bucky didn’t need to use the window anymore and Y/N replying that she had told him that which earned a shared laugh between the both of them. Y/N told her brother goodbye and that Bucky would pick her up tonight before walking into the hospital. She spend her morning finishing paperwork with the chief of surgery before going to the attending’s lounge to find her locker. She smiled when she saw a white coat waiting for her with her name stitched into it already. Slumping it over her shoulders she gave herself a look in the mirror on the wall and a smile appeared on her lips of pride in herself. Then her day started. Y/N made her way to the emergency room, assigning her residents and interns to their stations and keeping updates on any incoming traumas. It was a pretty slow morning and she had everything pretty much handled. It wasn’t until about eleven she got called to the front desk where she found none other than John Walker waiting for her. She smiled and walked up to him, “You stalking me now, Walker? Making sure I’m not all fruit loops in the head?”

John smiled at her, laughing a little at her joke, “Trying not to. But I heard you got the job and I was headed here anyway. I have a few veterans I bring here for physical therapy. You know I’m big on support.”

Y/N nodded, “I would know that if I remembered anything.” She told him with a small chuckle, putting her hands in the pockets of her scrub pants, “I don’t remember our conversations really, just that I laughed a lot with you and cried a lot to you. That and some fuzzy memory of karaoke?”

John laughed at the karaoke comment, nodding slowly, “Yeah, there was a few karaoke sessions. We got bored at the base sometimes.” He reminded, “You were rushed off the base in such a hurry you left some stuff behind. Notebooks and a few pictures, I’ll have to get them back to you. May help you remember some things.”

Y/N smiled, “That’d be very helpful, Walker.” She told him honestly. Maybe her own writing would bring back more memories. Her pager starts beeping and she pulls it out of her pocket to check it, “I gotta go, incoming trauma. I’m off work tomorrow night, maybe we can go out for some drinks? I think the place is called Joe’s Bar, I’ll invite a few friends and we can make a night of it.”

Walker nodded over to her and offered a smile, “Sounds great, I’ll bring the notebooks and pictures.” He said before walking towards the elevator to return to the physical therapy floor.

Y/N made her way back to the emergency room, putting on gloves and gown as she stood at the entrance waiting for the ambulance. When it pulled up, she immediately jumped into action taking in all the information from the paramedics she could. Turned out it was two idiots testing out bullet proof vests they got off of a website online and they were faulty and both sustained gunshot wounds. She immediately took one to the operating room and worked on him while another surgeon worked on the other. Both of them ended up living and by the time Y/N finished her surgery and got all cleaned up, it was about time for her to meet Bucky for lunch. She found him waiting leaning against the emergency room desk, trying to be friendly to the overly flirtatious nurses.

Bucky stopped mid conversation when he saw Y/N, smiling and walking over to her slightly swinging the plastic bag that held two to go boxes inside, “Hey, doll.” He said, wrapping his free arm around her waist to pull her close so he could press a soft kiss to her forehead, “How’s your day going?”

Y/N smiled up at him, “It’s good so far. Not much really going on, two surgeries. Couple overdoses. The usual.” She told him before looking down to the plastic bag, “Whatcha bring me?”

Bucky held the bag up, tilting his head at her, “Buffalo chicken salads.” He grinned when he saw her smile widen at the smell of buffalo sauce wafting near her, “C’mon hungry eyes, lead me to the cafeteria.” He said, slipping his free hand into her’s.

Y/N smiled and pulled him along the hallways and up a flight of stairs and into the cafeteria. She found a small table against the window to sit at, sitting across from him and pulling out one of the to go boxes and flipping it open, “This looks amazing, thank you.” She said with a large smile on her face toward Bucky who was already spreading his dressing on his own salad.

“No problem, doll.” Bucky told her with a smile before bringing a bite to his mouth.

Y/N bit her lip gently as she poured her ranch over her salad, looking up at Bucky from under her eyelashes, “So, I know you wanted to spend all of tomorrow with me but I ran into John earlier.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, swallowing the bite in his mouth before speaking, “You’re ditching me for blonde boy?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at Y/N slightly. Jealousy once again filled his body. First Walker showed up at her house and now at her work? He was beginning to feel really uneasy about John Walker.

“No, Bucky. I’d never ditch you.” Y/N said, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand encouragingly, “I just invited him to Joe’s Bar tomorrow night. I figure we can go. We can invite Steve, Peggy, Sam, maybe even Natasha. It’ll be fun.” She told him with a smile, “Besides, you can take care of me after I drink again.”

Bucky sighs at her, shaking his head with a smile and making little clicking noises with his tongue, “Darlin, you and your devious mind are trouble.” He said smiling over to her, “Alright, I’ll let Sam and Nat know. I’m sure they’d love to join.” And he could also keep an eye on Walker, figure out a little more of what his intentions were when it came to Y/N.

—

After Y/N’s shift at the hospital, Bucky picked her up and helped her to bed. She was exhausted and tired of being on her feet. She let Bucky help slip her into some comfortable clothes before falling asleep next to him. The next day of work went by like a breeze. The morning shift was usually never really that bad unless something terrible happened like a fire or a bad car wreck. Bucky picked her up and took her home, stopping for coffee on the way to make sure Y/N would be awake for the plans she had made to go to the bar. After a quick nap and shower, Y/N was all dressed and ready to go. Bucky, Steve, Peggy, and Y/N arrived at the bar in Steve’s car. Peggy never drank too much so she would be the designated driver. Sam and Natasha already had drinks in their hands and were playing darts super competitively. It didn’t take long for Y/N to be dragged away from Bucky’s side for shots by Natasha when she noticed they had arrived. Bucky sat at the bar with Steve, smiling as he watched Y/N and Natasha laugh and take their shots and talk. His smile was interrupted though when John Walker took a seat next to him, placing a large yellow sealed folder on the bar next to him that contained Y/N’s notebooks and pictures. Bucky shot him a glance and took a drink of his beer, nodding towards John as a hello.

John smiled over to Bucky and Steve before raising his hand to the bar tender to get a beer, “How’s it going?”

Bucky muttered out a ‘fine’ in John’s direction while Steve was a little more vocal, “Good, how’re you doing, John?”

John shrugged, “Pretty good. Y/N invited me to drop off some stuff from base that got left behind.” He said, patting the folder, “Thought it may be helpful.”

Steve nodded, looking at the folder before back to John, “That’s nice of you. I’m sure it’ll help.” He said with a small friendly smile. His attention was grasped by Peggy who was waving him over to dance with her, “Excuse me.” He said with a smile before standing and making his way over to Peggy, leaving John and Bucky alone.

Bucky sat in the awkward silence before sighing, looking over at John, “What’re you doin, Walker?”

John cocked his head slightly with a small frown, “What do you mean? I’m drinking a beer.” He said before taking another swig from the bottle in his hand.

Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly, his lips pressed into a stern line, “Showing up at Y/N’s house out of the blue and at the hospital. You trying to worm your way into her heart or something?” He hissed out, “Because she’s perfectly happy curled up next to me.” Bucky had always been a protective man with a little bit of possession, especially when it came to Y/N. She was his and everybody knew it except for John Walker it seemed like.

John rolls his eyes slightly at Bucky, “Look man, I’m just a friend trying to help out a friend that can't remember anything.” He spat back before looking over to Y/N, “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it though. She’s smart, beautiful, funny. But from the moment I met her, her heart was wrapped around your finger.” He paused, looking over to Bucky who was still shooting daggers at him with a glare, “When she arrived, we all thought she was an emotionless robot. She jumped into action and didn’t say much. Kept to herself. It took a long time to get her to talk to be about anything other than how her job as a trauma surgeon was going but then she wouldn’t stop talking about you and I knew I didn’t stand a chance. We are just friends.”

Bucky flinched slightly at his last words, wondering what Y/N had told John about him. Was it the good things like how he made her feel safe and how his whole world revolved around her, or was it how he broke her heart and made her run away from him? Bucky drank the last of the beer in the bottle before speaking, “What she tell you? That I broke her heart?” He asks bitterly, “Thinking I’m just taking advantage of her memory loss to get her back?”

John shook his head, “I don’t think that either. She would’ve came back to you eventually, even talked about it a few times. She just didn’t know what to say or how to face you.” He informed, “She talked about you two like you guys were still together. It wasn’t until I caught her crying behind one of the tents she talked about what happened between you two.” He placed a hand on the yellow folder, “These are her journals Y/N kept overseas and some pictures. Don’t worry, I didn’t read her diary. But I’m sure it’ll help her remember everything between you two. She deserves to know what happened and and how it made her feel to make the choice herself.”

Bucky scowled at John even though a part of him knew it was true. Y/N deserved to know what happened between them, what broke them apart he just didn’t want to tell her. But not when she read those journals, she would know everything. He decided he would need to talk to Y/N before she read those journals, hear it from him instead of reading it. Bucky looked at the bartender and grabbed another beer from him, “Nice talking to you, John.” He said before going over and wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist who had been talked into another shot by Natasha, “Hey darlin, John brought something for you.”

Y/N smiled up at Bucky after setting the empty shot glass down, “Oh, I better go say hi.” She said with a smile before making her way over to John and taking a seat next to him.

Bucky watched the two closely before being interrupted by Steve patting his shoulder, “I don’t like him.” He muttered over to Steve. Steve nodded, “I know. You’ve never been a fan of Y/N’s guy friends.” He chuckled, “How was the talk between you two, what he say?”

Bucky looked over to Steve, “Brought her some journals from her time serving. Says she deserves to know everything about our relationship, including how we broke up. I need to tell her before she reads those, I think it’ll be better coming from me.”

“I know what was said, but what else happened?” Steve asks curiously.

Bucky’s brow furrowed at Steve, “What do you mean? Nothing else happened, you know what was said and that’s when she left. Why?”

Steve looked over to Y/N for a moment before back to Bucky, “When she finally talked to me about it, she told me everything you said. She was pissed about that for a long time but she said something else had happened that made it worse. So what was it, Buck? Because she’s going to figure it out when she reads those.”

“Nothing else happened.” Bucky said, thinking back to that night, “She came home all excited about her deployment date and I said what I said. She said what she said. Then she was gone. Nothing else happened, we were totally fine before all of that happened.”

“Let’s just hope whatever she knows that you don’t isn’t something that’ll break her.” Steve said, taking another drink of his beer, “I really don’t want her to run again, Buck.”

“Me either.” Bucky said shortly, his eyes fixated on Y/N talking to John and taking the yellow folder from him with a smile before he watched her make his way back over to him. Bucky put on a smile and wraps an arm around her shoulder, “Hey pretty girl.”

Y/N smiled up to Bucky, “Hey.” She said simply and leans up to press a kiss to his cheek, “Having fun?”

Bucky nods, “Better now that you’re over here with me.” He grinned down to her before ordering her a beer.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to be leaning up against Bucky giving him sleepy, tipsy eyes. The ride home was nice and quiet, Peggy driving while Steve held her hand on the center console and Y/N leaning up against Bucky in the back seat as he trailed kisses over her knuckles. Bucky helped Y/N stumble to her bedroom to change for bed while he went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, debating on how he would bring up the conversation about why they broke up. He had to do it soon because who knows when Y/N would start reading those journals. Bucky was nervous for one of the first times in his life. He made his way back to Y/N’s room to find her curled up under the blankets, reaching out for him when she saw him in the doorway. He chuckles softly and pulled of his shirt as he walked towards the bed followed by his pants, leaving him in his boxers as he slipped under the covers with her and pulled her close, “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Y/N giggled, “Couldn’t sleep without my warmth.” She said, pressing her face into the crook of his neck gently and leaving a soft kiss on his skin before pulling away and looking up to him, “I got a question, Bucky. It may be a question caused by alcohol but I’m curious.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, keeping a smile on his lips, “What is it doll?”

Y/N studied his face for a moment, reaching a hand up and brushing her finger tips along his bottom lip softly before her eyes returned up to his blue ones, “You said we broke up because you said things you didn’t mean… What did you say?”

Bucky took a deep breath and pulled away a little from her. Shit. He didn’t want to do this when she was tipsy. He didn’t want to do this at all but there was the question staring him right in the face. He looked back to her and sighed, “They were things I didn’t mean, Y/N. You have to know that.” He waited until she nodded before continuing, “You came home one night excited about your deployment date and I… I told you I didn’t want this for you, for us. I knew it was your dream and I told you if you walked out the door to not bother coming back because I wouldn’t be here waiting for you.” He waited for a reply but it never came, instead Y/N was listening and waiting for him to continue, “I didn’t mean it though, doll.” He whispers out, reaching out to brush his hand over her cheek softly as regret filled his eyes, “I was scared you would come back as damaged as I was… I didn’t want to be left alone without you. And I couldn’t leave, couldn’t move on. I waited for you everyday to come back to me.” He leans close and places a gentle kiss on her forehead, “You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I should’ve never said those things.”

Y/N removed her eyes from his face, listening to the story. Her forehead creased a moment as she thought about all that was said before meeting his gaze once again. A small smile curved on her lips and she leaned towards him, kissing his lips softly before pulling away slightly to look at him, “I forgive you, Bucky."

Bucky felt relief flood through him at her words, smiling down to her. He couldn’t find any words to say to her so instead he returned his arms around her body and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. Those were words Bucky had waited to hear for so long and for a while he didn’t know if he would ever hear them from Y/N. Everything seemed right in the world for now, and even though he was worried about what was written in those journals John had given her due to what Steve had said, he hoped that whatever else it was would be forgiven also.

Truth was, Y/N always had forgiven Bucky for what was said the moment she left. She knew it was from his own fears. But what had broken her was hidden in the pages of those journals.

_____________________________________________________________

Taglist: @vicmc624 @buckypops @shawnie--jo @ahahafudge

If I missed anybody on the taglist or you would like to be added, send me a quick message, comment, or ask. Thank you for the support (:

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x yn #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years ago

Text

Diary found in K---D--- : Part 2

So, here's the next little part of this :D

Imagine by @lathalea is indented!

Enjoy <3

Taglist: @shrimpsthings, @mulasawala (so you see where I'm going with this lol)

(Yes, there will be MORE artwork coming, stay posted...)

Fandom: Hobbit

Characters: Ori x OC

Rating & Warning: Fluff and silliness

His name was Ori and he was a scribe in Erebor. It turned out he visited the forest often to sketch the animals and plants. You spent the rest of the day together. In the evening, you exchanged campfire stories, sharing a meal. At one point, he shyly asked about where you came from. Blushing, he admitted, almost whispering, he never saw a person with such beautiful hair before.

You told him that you came from another world, from a region called East Asia, where many people looked similarly to you. He was very curious about your homeland, your culture and your world. You spent hours telling him everything about it and he listened to you in awe.

“Ori.” He replied, his lips quirking a tiny bit as if he was not used to speaking his own name. “I’m a scribe. In Erebor. The Mountain.” He pointed to a tree beyond the clearing.

Thankfully, I was familiar with the Lonely Mountain and did not think that he didn’t know the difference between a living organism and a pile of minerals.

“I have never seen you, neither here nor in that Mountain.” I replied, for I went into the halls sometimes to translate for travellers, but for the most part, I let the king be his grumpy, glorious self.

“I come here often, to sketch, but I seem to have lost my way.” He admitted with a tiny frown. Ah, a real dwarf. They only knew up and down seemingly and if there was no way into a hill, they’d stubbornly trek up until they tumbled off the other side again.

As if to prove to me that he was not lying – dear reader, he had a face that was utterly devoid of malice or dissimulation – he showed me rather good sketches of the fauna and flora of the dense forest surrounding us. “That is really good, Ori, the scribe, from under the Mountain.” I commented which made him blush with a fierce and, apparently, unexpected pleasure.

In an expression of indescribable cuteness, he literally wiped his face with his sleeve as if he could clean away the rosy hue like a stubborn ink stain from under his skin.

“What are you here for?” He then asked, pushing out his chest heroically. As a reminder, he was the one who had lost his way, but apparently, he wanted to defend either the forest from me or the other way around.

“I am here to think…in silence.” I replied; he retreated a few steps. “Oh? I’ll leave you to it then, I guess. It was great to make your acquaintance…”

I gave him my name, after all, he had given me his, and he chewed on it for a few moments before his face split into a smile that was like the sunlight breaking through the cloudy afternoon sky: tentative, warm, and strikingly beautiful.

“Stay. I like your face.” I heard myself saying. Maybe, it was my teasing, mischievous streak acting up, but I had liked his embarrassment so much that I couldn’t help wanting to coax more of these blushes out of him.

“My…face?” In that weird dance he had been engaged in for the last few minutes, Ori stepped closer again, shuffling his feet in the heavy boots dwarrows insisted on wearing.

No, your ass, I thought, but bit my tongue; Ori the dwarf looked like someone who would die on the spot if I said anything even remotely inappropriate…as I was wont to do when nervous.

My sarcastic thought spurred my own interest though and I examined him a little closer: he was indeed swaddled like a babe, beads of sweat pearling down his temples on account of the steep climb and the stubborn blush powdering his nose and cheeks with pink blotches.

“Sit down, you’ll get a heat stroke.” I invited him and pointed to a patch of moss beside me while rummaging in my pack for the flask of ale I had brought.

“Thank you ever so much.” He plopped down in a cascade of earthen-coloured wool and awkward limbs. He did smell warm, I noticed, a blend of cinnamon and comfort.

Also, he had one of those faces that only became better when seen up-close, I admit freely; there were golden stars dancing in the depth of his dark eyes and he had the most adorable freckles as if some outlandish fairy had sprinkled gold dust over that heart-wrenchingly handsome face.

“Are you thirsty, Mistress?” He asked, nodding at the flask in my hand.

Handing it to him rather abruptly, I realised that I had spent the last moments intently staring at his face as if I had never seen a male dwarf before in my life.

“I have work to do.” I snapped, feeling immediately guilty for taking my own embarrassment out on him, but he merely nodded and pulled his sketching supplies into his lap.

Strangely enough, Ori did not disturb me. If anything, the silence felt fuller, richer, deeper with him by my side. As I translated a letter, as a spinster I had to support my family and my insufferable sisters as best as I could, I felt like the chirping of the birds and the vibrancy of the colours around me were even more enjoyable now that I shared them with someone else.

…

The sun crept along its never-changing arc slowly and yet, much too fast.

As I looked up, I wished I was a better painter myself, for this dwarrow was made for sunsets.

The way the last golden hurrah of a perfect day exploded in a halo of warmth around his figure, the way all the greys and the blues seemed to bleed out of the world to leave nothing but warm tones behind, and the way his smile was the perfect expression of this mellow, unhurried mood…it struck me deeper and more violently than a thunderstorm in all its booming rage would have.

“Will you join me for dinner, Ori?” I asked gently, “I shall escort you back down.”

“It would be my honour.” He nodded, tearing out a page of his notebook and handing it over.

“It was an invitation; I do not demand payment.” I said seriously, for the sketch of the doe was so good, it might have been worth actual money. “Oh…” His nose crinkled at little at that.

“I wanted you to…have something beautiful. I have seen you work very hard.”

Of course, he was a scribe as well, he would consider the scribbling work, I thought and gave him a thankful smile. “You’re beauty enough for one day.” I shrugged.

He gasped, bringing his notebook up to his face as if to shield himself from my words.

“You’re having me on, aren’t you? Dori has warned me that girls do that sometimes.” He sounded utterly dejected. “I am not having you on. Has nobody ever told you that you’re handsome?” It was my turn to be wide-eyed with shock.

“And who is Dori?” I followed-up when he didn’t really reply to my question even though I thought I had seen his braids move like strings of pearls in a draft. The minutest of shakes of the head, a quiet admission of inadequacy that sunk ugly, ragged claws into my soft heart.

“He’s my brother. I have two of them. Dori…and Nori. They’re…” – “Older than you.” I completed. “Protective.” He supplied.

He was still holding his drawing out to me, and, after a moment, I took it gingerly and put it between the pages of my own writing supplies. I would hang it in my room and look at it daily.

Nowadays, there were but very few gifts for me; all the money went to my two younger sisters who were still nubile and would, if Mahal willed it so, be able to make a good match.

Busying my hands with making a fire, I asked him to tell me about his brothers.

“Oh, Nori is…agile. He’s…funny and brave and resourceful.” Ori started, his voice warm with affection and admiration. He sounded like a proper rogue to me, and as it turned out, he was, but he also deserved every single ounce of the deep-felt care Ori held for him.

“Dori is…fussy. He’s polite, he’s very caring, and he’s exceedingly proper.” Ori went on as I waved a hand for him not to stop. I enjoyed hearing about the life of other families than my own.

“So, is he the one who raised you to be this…warmly clad and gentle?” I asked, turning to place the foodstuffs I had brought up and stored in the cool lake water on spits to roast over the fire.

“Warm? Oh yes…I was a sickly pebble and he’s been worried ever since. I hope I have behaved in a way that would not make him disappointed in me.” Again, he worried his lip.

“Let’s see, you’ve startled a bird and an unsuspecting dwarrowdam.” I listed with a wicked gleam in my eyes; his face fell, and he looked properly guilty.

“Then, you’ve kept me company, and the best company I’ve ever had, it has been, on my grandmother’s grave, I swear.” I went on and that treacherous blush was back with a vengeance.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He then said in a low voice. “Great beauty is always startling.”

“I am hardly Thorin Oakenshield.” He laughed. Readers, you cannot imagine that sound just by reading my words. If flowers blossoming had melody, if the sun setting on the eternal sea had a song, if autumn leaves dancing on a gale had a tune, they would have sounded like nails on scree, like cats having their tails trampled, and like kettles going unheeded compared to Ori’s laughter.

“There’s beauty in the doe as much as in the wolf.” I replied gently.

“May I…can I ask where you’re from? I don’t seek to be rude, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like you; your hair looks like those fabrics the Elves weave. It…seems so soft, so liquid, so smooth.” He blushed a darker shade yet.

This might well have been the first time that someone had asked me about my origins without making it sound like an accusation; there was honest fascination in his demeanour.

“My family and I have come from the Far East. I have travelled a lot, Ori, I have seen landscapes entirely made up of rock and sand, I have walked forests so stiflingly hot and moist it felt like being underwater, and now, I am here in the land of tall trees and taller mountains.”

I said, surprised by my own frankness.

“That sounds amazing.” He took the food I offered readily enough, and I told him about the people I’ve left behind to be stranded at the other end of the world.

“This is good, is that a recipe of your homeland?” He asked, looking down on the piece of meat I had seasoned with herbs I had grown myself in our small backyard.

“It actually is. I’m glad you like it. I had not planned to have company, otherwise I’d have brought something more palatable to the local tongue.” I apologised quickly.

“No, I like it. You should definitely trade some recipes with Dori…and Bombur…oh, and if any of your delicious herbs are medicinal, Óin.” He laughed again when he saw my dumbfounded expression.

“I make a good honeycake, if I can interest you in that? Maybe…” He fell back into silence.

…

A look at the sky told me that it was too late to go down in the inky darkness.

“We’ll have to stay here for the night.” I mumbled, slightly uncomfortable at the idea of spending the night with a dwarrow who had not lost a single word about a wife.

“Are you married, Mistress? Will that endanger your wedlock?” He asked shyly.

“No, I am not and I have no name to lose…It’s a long story.” I didn’t feel like blurting out my disgrace, lest it give him strange ideas after all, especially as he would easily have been able to overpower me if he so chose.

“Neither am I. I don’t know about my name…Doesn’t look like I’m going to be married either. There’s not enough dwarrowdams as it is, and I think the royal line has a prerogative there.” There was no resentment in his tone; he seemed to accept this as a fact.

How could someone that sweet not be married, I wondered. He was courteous, he was cute, and he would have made the fortune and happiness of someone.

“Well, in that case, I think we can risk our reputation rather than our necks.” I grinned, rolling out a blanket I kept tied to my pack for emergencies and stretched out next to the fire on the moss.

“Erm, yes…Good night…” He mumbled, fidgeting around with his different layers of clothing. Apparently, he was deciding which one he needed least on his body to use it as a bedroll or blanket.

I eyed the proceedings with interest and a good deal of amusement.

“I can offer you my cloak to lie upon…the ground will grow very cold and wet soon.” He said in a low voice, not sure if I had already fallen asleep or not.

“Alright, I can offer you a spot under the blanket then?” I extended my own graciousness.

“With you?” No, with the red bird, I thought, rolling my eyes internally.

“Yes, Ori the scribe, with me. I will not eat you, as you have witnessed, I have had dinner.” Not that he did not look good enough to devour, standing there with his cloak in his hands and his face all crunched up in embarrassment.

“Hmmm…I guess.” He muttered doubtfully, spreading out the cloak and sitting down on it carefully. Impatiently, I scooted over and spread my lousy blanket over the both of us with a flourish.

“Sleep!” I commanded as I turned around only to find him staring wide-eyed at the spot where the back of my head had been only a second ago. Now that he was presented with my face, only inches away from his, his eyes grew even rounder and bigger in wordless distress.

“Friend…Have you never lain with a woman? And I literally mean, lying next to one?” I laughed for there had been friends and cousins aplenty in my own life and the feeling of having another body so close to mine was not a new experience for me.

“Well, I fell down on the battlefield once, next to a foe…I’m pretty sure that was a Lady-Orc. She was dead. There was a…” He gestured, indicating a spear or a lance sticking out of his chest and brushing against my own with the back of his hand. Dear reader, he flinched back as if I was a tiny Durin’s bane wreathed in flames.

“A Lady-Orc, indeed…” I mused; no doubt, he could hear the smile I hid in my voice for his face crunched up in embarrassment.

“I am sorry.” He sighed, rolling his eyes, and thinking – there was not a shadow of a doubt about that much – of his brothers who would have mocked him mercilessly for his stammering.

“There’s no need to be sorry” I tried to reassure him, but I admit now that there were things that I did not tell him right away then. We had only just met, and he was blessedly unaware of my shameful past.

How could I have made him understand – without hurting his feelings – how much I enjoyed that air of purity about him that I had squandered myself on an undeserving fiend? As a daughter amongst others, I had been used to dwarrows coming to court or to seduce, their eyes ablaze with greed and their hands wandering.

He would not have comprehended how much the absence of that voracious hunger that had plagued my youth and had ended up destroying my promising future meant to me.

“Sleep.” I repeated, unable to put into words how miraculous and precious the things he seemed to be most ashamed of were to me.

“Good night, Mistress.” He breathed with a soft smile that was nowhere near the wolfish baring of fangs I was used to and so, it was easy to return it.

You who may or may not have stumbled upon this ludicrous account of the most important story in an otherwise unimportant life, you shall hear another confession I did not make at the time.

I was fiercely aware that – had I but leant forward a little – I might have pressed my lips upon his; I was young still at that time and, despite what had happened, parts of me, that should have withered and died in the aftermath of my botched engagement, were much alive.

He smelled like our dinner and warmth, and the gentle reticence of the curve of his smile was more inviting than any flashing grin I had ever seen before.

Yes, in that very moment, on this very first evening, I had already been conscious of the shrewd attraction this self-effacing dwarrow held for me…and it scared me half to death.

…

Part 3

#Fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ori the dwarf #Ori #OC #Fluff #Diary #1st person

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randomposterofstuff · 3 years ago

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Soldiers by Choice - Chapter VI

Author's Note: So, real life has been stressing me out immensely. Lol. And I really wanted to post this chapter as soon as I could, so please forgive me for any mistakes and any other problems. Haha. In any case, I hope that you all like it!

Also available on Archive of Our Own. Check my tumblr page to click on the ‘Archive of Our Own’ tab!

Tumblr Chapters List can be found here.

CHAPTER 6: Reasons and Apologies

Summary: Mikasa and Levi encounter troublesome Military Police officers while doing a supply run. Meanwhile, at the Cadet Corps headquarters, Eren Yeager and Jean Kirstein have another confrontation.

Year 847 (5 months later)

---

“Tch. They’re out of bleach.”

Levi glares at the empty row of shelves where jars of commercial bleach usually would be. A few feet away to his left, Mikasa speaks with the shop owner.

“Mr. Gale, I don’t understand. Section Commander Hange told us that you usually have stocks of everything during this time of the month.”

The Titan-scientist and Moblit were on the supply pick-up rotation for the current month. But since they were away on another observation expedition with the Research division, the task had fallen to the two Ackermans.

Mr. Gale, an aging man in his early 50s, clasps his hands apologetically. “I’m sorry, Captain. But due to some issues with our supplier, we won’t have stocks until next month.”

The dark-haired woman sighs at the news. “I see. We will just have to make do with an alternative and the other supplies.”

After a few more words and apologetic gestures from the shop owner, she approaches her co-captain, who is still glowering at the vacant racks.

“They won’t restock until next month.”

His frown deepens. “How the hell are we supposed to properly clean without bleach?”

Mikasa cracks a small smile at his displeasure over the absence of the cleaning agent. In the back of her mind, she muses that even after three years of working together, she still finds his pseudo-obsession with cleanliness to be comical to the point of disbelief.

“We can make our own cleaning formula.” She says. “The store has the necessary ingredients, and the budget is enough to cover them.”

The tautness in his jaw relents at this. “You know how to make bleach?”

She nods. “I do. My mother created her own cleanser. The employees at our estate use it.”

His eyebrows raise in mild surprise. “I didn’t know the Azumabitos also dealt in the cleaning business.” He remarks wryly.

She shifts her eyes from side to side before taking a step closer. "It's a closely guarded family secret." She whispers mock-conspiratorially.

He smirks. “Your secret is safe with me.” He speaks in a similarly hushed tone, and she mirrors his smirk.

---

After perusing the store for the needed ingredients, the two officers help the elderly shop owner place all their purchased supplies in eight wooden crates.

“That’s everything.” Mr. Gale comments as he places the lid on the final crate. “I’ll call my boys to help you load them on your cart.”

“There’s no need for that.” Levi says, already readying himself to lift some of the boxes. “We can handle it.”

The proprietor laughs good-naturedly. "Come now, Captain Levi. I know that you’re ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’ and that Captain Mikasa is the ‘Woman Worth a Hundred Soldiers”, but you can’t rea---”

He cuts himself off when the two Ackermans each lift four boxes with little effort.

Mikasa shifts the crates so that she faces the shop owner properly. "Mr. Gale, you've already received the payment from our budgetary officer, correct?"

The older man merely nods, his mouth still agape in shock at the display of inhuman strength.

“We’ll be on our way, then. Thanks, old man.” Levi states, unfazed by the reaction.

The warm afternoon sun greets them as they exit the shop. The commercial area of Trost is filled with chatter from the mass of patrons. Due to the crowded streets, they had to leave their wagon at a fairly secluded area some ways away from the store.

When they finally arrive at where they parked, the crowd has thinned considerably. The few people there are either entering or exiting the complex. The two are in the process of loading the crates onto the cart when they hear the sound of glass breaking, followed by a frightened yell to their right.

They turn their heads to the source see to see a small saloon. One of its front windows is covered by pull-down drapes, while the other one is unobscured. Through the glass of the second one, the co-captains see a middle-aged man and woman, presumably the owners, anxiously speaking to two Military Police officers.

“Whaddaya mean we have to pay?” An MP with light hair slurs loudly while gripping a long-necked bottle.

The woman, who looks to be in her early 40s, attempts to explain. “Sir, you’ve consumed more than two bottles already.” She says, wringing her hands together nervously. “And our store ---”

“Blah!” The other MP, a man with darker hair, sways as he unslings his rifle from his shoulder. Both the woman and her partner take a step back, visibly terrified. “We serve the kingdom!” He yells. “You lot should be grateful! Besides, your stuff tastes like shit!"

He unsteadily aims his rifle at a row of bottles behind the counter while his companion laughs. “You’re right, Ricky!” He shouts, smashing the bottle he was holding against the floor.

The one called Ricky guffaws. "Damn right, I'm right, George!" Slightly swaying, he disengages the safety lock. “I’ve been wanting to try this beauty out! They say this thing can shoot 15 bullets in a row after just one click!” Just as he is about to place his finger on the trigger, he is suddenly struck across the head. The impact of the attack causes him to drop his weapon.

“Ricky!” George makes to unsling his own rifle but barely has time to react before a heavy boot hits him in the stomach. He faintly registers his gun being snatched from him before he is thrown across the room and roughly crashes onto a table and some chairs. One second later, Ricky lands beside him with a loud thud.

They both groan for a moment before raising their heads and seeing the profiles of two other soldiers in the area where they had been standing before. “Hey!” George yells while unsteadily getting up. “What gives?!” He demands, face flushed with both embarrassment and alcohol. “Who are you anyway?!” He trains his glazed-over beady eyes at their assailants.

Levi narrows his eyes, not the least bit intimidated. “You were harassing innocent civilians.” He crosses his arms, leveling him with a look of disdain. "Taxpayer money is wasted on pigs like you.”

“They’re from the Survey Corps!” Ricky exclaims, pointing to the Wings of Freedom on the fronts of their jackets. “You two have got some nerve!” He glares, eyes glassy with inebriation. “Accusing us of wasting taxpayer money when you ---”

Mikasa quietly raises his rifle at him, causing him to cut himself short. Both MPs freeze at the movement.

“P—put that down and g—give it back!” Ricky demands, voice shaking.

Mikasa shifts her gaze from the anxious Military Police officers and to the firearm in her hands. She examines its long sleek frame and swipes her thumb over the grip.

“It saddens me to see that my father’s guns were used to frighten defenseless civilians.” She comments out loud, her tone a cross between pensive and disappointed.

George’s brows scrunch up in confusion at her statement. “Huh?!” The two MPs look at her dumbly, trying to comprehend the meaning behinds her words.

Meanwhile, Levi picks up the second rifle from the floor, ignoring the whimpers from the two pigs. He feels the gun's weight in his hands and notes that it is light compared to other models. He then places his thumb on the butt of the rifle and runs it over the engraved encircled cursive 'A' which serves as the insignia of Lord Mikhail Ackerman's gun manufacturing company. He muses that the emblem looks similar to the Azumabito clan symbol on the inside of Mikasa’s wrist.

“If it’s any consolation,” he begins, still looking at the rifle, “I think that your father did a great job with this gun, Mikasa.” He remarks almost idly.

“Thanks, Levi.”

“Levi? Mikasa?” George repeats their names, a hint of recognition in their slurred tone. “Mikasa… Mikhail A—“. Shock settles on his features as they finally connect the dots. His eyes further widen in realization when they shift to Levi. “… Ackerman.”

“You’re Levi and Mikasa Ackerman!” George exclaims, lips trembling. At his exclamation, Ricky’s mouth drops open as sweat starts to form on his brow. The two men nervously shift their eyes between the co-captains – panic and recognition clearing away the drink-induced glazes in their eyes.

“I mean, my lord and lady!” George suddenly bows at the waist. His companion scrambles to do the same. “Our apologies! We didn’t recognize you!”

Levi’s jaw clenches at their sycophantic gesture. “Tch. Do not call us those.” He hisses. “And quit your groveling.”

They straighten themselves instantly at the vitriol in his voice. “My lord?” One of them squeaks.

Mikasa takes a sharp breath. “We’re not at the royal court.” She states, an edge to her voice. “Furthermore, we’re acting in our capacities as officers of the Survey Corps. So, if you’re going to address us, do so accordingly.”

“Yes, my la---, I mean, Captain!” The same MP yelps. “We’re sorry!”

Mikasa narrows her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You’re clearly not genuine.” She speaks coldly. “And it appears that the likes of you get your bravado from carrying my father’s guns. Perhaps I should tell him to terminate his weapons provision contract with the Military Police.”

“Please don’t!” They both plead simultaneously, alarm in their voices. Clearly frightened of the consequences should they be the cause of the loss of the contract. “This won’t happen again!”

The disdain in her dark grey eyes indicates that she is not convinced. “I don’t believe you.” Mikasa then grips that rifle’s ammunition magazine. “So, I’m going to take these.”

Following her lead, Levi makes to do the same with the rifle in his hands. “I’ll take care of this one.”

Once he’s done, Mikasa holds out a hand, and he gives her the second rifle. She throws the weapons at the feet of the two MPs. “Take those and leave.” She commands, voice near imperious. “And don’t forget to put your payment on the counter.”

The two men do as they are told. They wordlessly take the ammo-less rifles and practically empty their wallets onto the counter before leaving the saloon with their heads bowed.

Once they were out of sight, the two Ackermans turn to the shop owners, who had been silently watching the exchange from the sidelines with bated breath.

“We’re not from the Military Police.” Levi states plainly. “But all the same, we’re sorry for the trouble they caused.”

The middle-aged man shakes himself from his daze. “Oh, please! You have nothing to apologize for!” He says, a nervous but sincere smile on his face. “In fact, my wife and I should thank you, my lord and lady!” His eyes then widen at his slip of tongue. “I’m sorry, I mean---”

Mikasa raises her hands in a calming gesture. “It’s alright.” She assures him with a smile.

The man’s tension eases, relieved at her assurance.

“Thank you so much, Captains.” His wife steps forward, wearing a bright and grateful smile. “May we offer you something to eat and drink?”

“Oh, we ---” Mikasa begins, about to politely decline.

“It’s on the house!” The husband insists. “It’s the least that we could do for you! We insist.”

Mikasa observes their smiling and amiable expressions before turning to Levi. She lifts her brows, and he gives a slight shrug before taking out his pocket watch.

“I suppose we have time before we need to get back to headquarters.” He comments.

The shop owners beam at the response. “Wonderful! I’m Tim Briles, by the way, and this is my wife, Frances." Tim introduces himself and his wife. “Please, have a seat. The menu is by the counter. Order anything you want!”

"Sure." Levi replies, and he turns towards the turned-over tables and chairs. “I’ll fix the tables and chairs. I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Noted." Mikasa states as she makes her way to the counter. She peruses the menu and, after a minute of deliberating, settles on a sandwich platter and chamomile tea. She vaguely wonders if the tea selection is meant for customers with hangovers.

After an enthusiastic Frances takes their order, she makes her way to Levi, who has just finished righting the disarray of furniture. As she approaches, her co-captain suddenly pulls out a chair and gestures for her to sit.

Mikasa looks at him questioningly, and he tilts his head towards the offered chair.

She decides to play along. “How very gentlemanly of you.” She jests, voice half-coquettish as she moves to sit.

“Only for you, my lady.” He drawls as he pushes the chair in for her.

They both snicker at the mocking references to their noble backgrounds.

“So, what are we having?” He asks as he sits from across her.

“Tea and sandwiches.” He raised a brow at ‘tea’, and she smiles. "I know; I was also surprised to see it on the menu.”

Levi hums. “In any case, it’s too early for liquor.”

A few minutes pass, and Frances approaches their table with their food and drinks. “Here are your orders. Enjoy!”

The co-captains both thank the female shop owner, and they split the sandwiches and tea between themselves.

Comfortable silence ensues as they eat their sandwiches. Levi muses that the saloon’s turkey sandwich is quite good. He takes a look at the sandwich in Mikasa’s hand and deduces from the green poking out from the bread that it’s full of vegetables.

After he finishes his food and begins stirring his tea, a random realization suddenly occurs to him.

“Something wrong?” Mikasa asks, noticing the contemplative furrow of his brow.

“No.” He replies, taking out the spoon from his cup and gripping it by the rim. “It’s just that I realized you actually used the ‘I’m going to tell my daddy’ card.”

Mikasa blinks at the remark. A beat of silence passes before she bursts into laughter.

Her shoulders slightly shake as hearty chuckles flow from her. She laughs in earnest at the absurdity and the truth of the statement.

Levi’s lips curve upwards at her open display of mirth, observing how her usually stern eyes crinkle at the corners and how genuine joy shines through her typically reserved expression.

“I’m sorry.” Mikasa says, still giggling as she adjusts her cravat around her neck. “You’re right, but it’s just so ridiculous.” She remarks, her smile wide. “Come to think of it, I’ve never used it before.” She muses out loud, her lips still twitching.

“At least you used it for a good cause.” He quips, sharing in her amusement.

She chortles at his joke. He also lets out an amused sound.

She eventually sobers down, though a small smile still remains on her lips.

But after a moment, her eyes suddenly become downcast, and her smile disappears.

Levi frowns in concern at the abrupt change in her demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

She takes a breath before directing her gaze towards the afternoon sky beyond the saloon’s window.

“Moments like this…” she speaks quietly as she raises her hand to gesture at their light-hearted conversation, “…don’t come by often.” A sad gleam then enters her eyes. “In a way, it’s… sort of unsettling.”

Levi’s lips press into a firm line at the reality of her words. Every soldier in the Survey Corps knows that every encounter with the Titans could be their very last. Danger, risk, and bloodshed are their constant companions. And the absences of the comrades lost will always be felt by those who live to join the next expedition.

The survivors know that it is their duty to honor the sacrifices of the fallen by carrying on with their mission. Yet, this knowledge hangs heavy over the heads of those who remain standing.

“I know what you mean.” He says, voice solemn. “Enjoying a moment of peace can be hard sometimes, considering the things we go through.”

They remain quiet for a while, the atmosphere suddenly tenser. Mikasa closes her eyes and sighs before speaking again.

“Sometimes, I wonder what my life would be like right now if I had stayed in the Capital or joined the clan’s Elite Royal Company.” She stares intently into her cup of tea, wistfulness underlying her tone. “I would probably be promenading with the other nobles in the parks. Or patrolling the grounds at the Fritz castle. Either way, my life would be simpler and less daunting."

A flash of resolve then enters her gaze. “But I already made my choice a long time ago.” She declares with a quiet certainty in her words. “And I’ve chosen to be a soldier for the Survey Corps.”

Levi quietly observes her profile. She sits with the graceful posture of a noble lady – a result of her upbringing. But her shoulders are squared with a soldier’s discipline. She holds her teacup delicately, but her fingers are calloused from years of wielding blades. Had she chosen differently, she could have been a socialite hostess.

The passing thought then prompts a question. “Why didyou join the Survey Corps in the first place?”

Mikasa half-smiles at that. It was a question she was often asked – the daughter of a noble joining any of the military branches was unheard of. Although, she never divulged anything apart from saying that she merely wanted to.

“I could ask you the same question, Levi.” She prompts back.

For all his fame, no one has ever known of his reason for joining the Survey Corps. Not surprising, since he would always brush off anyone who asks by telling them that it’s none of their damn business.

But Levi decides that he wouldn’t mind making an exception for her. “I’ll share if you share.”

Mikasa hums as if contemplating the proposition. “Fair enough.”

A moment passes before she continues. “I joined because of my Asian heritage.”

He raises a brow in confusion. But stays silent and waits for her to elaborate.

“The Azumabitos are the last Asians in the world.” She explains. “Our clan’s records state that our ancestors’ homeland, Asia, was full of rare creatures and mysterious fauna. Unfortunately, just like every other continent, it was invaded along with the rest of humanity by the Titans.”

“My parents gave me everything I needed while growing up. But they taught me that if I wanted something, then I should work to earn it.” Mikasa pauses as her lips twist wryly. “And since I wanted to see the roots of my Asian heritage, I decided as a child that I would join the Survey Corps to help eradicate the Titans.”

“It’s silly.” She remarks, more to herself, amused at her younger self’s reason. “But it’s what prompted me to enlist.”

Her expression then becomes more pensive, and she redirects her gaze to the table between them. “But after my first expedition, I realized that there are things which are bigger than my wants. I suppose you could say that it opened my eyes. Seeing first-hand the dangers and struggles made me understand the weight of the Corps’ mission.”

She looks up at him again. “I still want to see Asia…” she admits with a bashful look. “… and if we can eradicate the Titans during my lifetime, then I’ll be to do that.”

“But even if that won’t happen, I won’t have any regrets about joining the Survey Corps.”

With that, she concludes her piece. Levi remains quiet for a moment, feeling astounded and moved at the revelation.

“I’m glad that you joined, Mikasa.” He says softly.

She smiles at his remark. “Thank you for saying that.” A tinge of levity then enters her dark orbs. “Now, I believe it’s your turn to share.”

Levi tsks, but there’s mirth in the slight quirk of his mouth. “I suppose a deal’s a deal.”

He swirls the contents of his teacup before speaking. “When I was a kid, my great grandfather would always preach about upholding the clan’s tradition of being the Crown’s ‘Sword and Shield’.” He drawls out the last two words.

“Just like you and everyone else in our clan, I was trained to be the best fighter possible – because, of course, the royal family only expects the best to protect it.” He pauses to take a drink.

“Sure, it’s natural for the royal family to have protection.” He concedes. “But our clan’s talents are being wasted. The biggest threats are out there beyond the Walls, and our clansmen use their many years of special training to deal with problems that the Military Police pigs are supposed to handle.”

Levi lifts his gaze to hers. "So, I said to myself, ‘to hell with tradition’.”

She lets out a small laugh. “Of course, you would say something like that.”

He smirks before taking another sip. “So, I decided to enlist in the Survey Corps. Thankfully, my uncle became head of the clan even before my rite of passage. And since he isn’t as uptight and prissy as my great grandfather was, he let me go without much of a fuss. I wanted to put my skills to better use. And what better way to use them than to reclaim the lands stolen by the Titans from humanity?”

“And after everything I’ve seen…” he trails off, a more somber and pensive look in his eyes as he stares at his cup, “…I’m now surer than ever that I made the right choice.”

A quiet second passes before Mikasa speaks. “That’s very noble of you.” She says, her voice earnest.

Her co-captain snorts out a harsh laugh. “If it were anyone else, I’d say that they were kissing my ass.”

Remembering the incident with the two MPs earlier, she likewise smiles in good humor; his words can’t be any truer.

“But since it’s you…” his harsh smirk morphs into a gentler smile, “… thanks.”

Her smile remains as their eyes meet again.

“You know, it’s odd…” she begins off-handedly, “We’ve known each other for years, but this is the first time we talked about something like this.”

He raises a brow. “Is it? I wasn’t aware that there was a standard timeline for sharing things.”

Another light laugh escapes her, and Mikasa wonders if Levi realizes how humorous he can be at times.

---

Chatter fills the air of the communal dining hall of the Southern Division’s Cadet Corps Headquarters – with the main source of noise and talk being the long dining table where Eren Yeager sits with his friends.

“Eren, what you did was really cool!”

“Yeah, I don’t think that anyone else here would’ve been able to do that!”

From his seat at another table at the far right of the hall, Jean Kirstein watches as several trainees crowd around Yeager and pay him compliments for his incredible feat earlier this morning.

Connie sits across the green-eyed recruit with a wide grin on his face. “Eren, you were amazing earlier!” He exclaims. “Being able to balance yourself using defective equipment was incredible!”

Beside him, Sasha nods enthusiastically as she munches on a loaf of bread. She smiles broadly after gulping down her food. "You really did well, all things considered!" She exclaims while not so discreetly trying to take Connie's bread from his plate.

The shaved-headed boy snatches her wrist before she could lift the loaf to her mouth. “Oh, come on! You haven’t even finished your own bread!” He grumbles, exasperated as Sasha strains against his grip.

Eren chuckles at the display before scratching the back of his head with a sheepish expression. Even so, his green eyes seem to glow with pride and appreciation. “Thanks, guys.”

“Congratulations on a job well done, Eren.” Christa speaks from amongst the group that congregated around the table. “Your determination paid off.”

Eren's cheeks redden slightly at her smile. "Thanks, Christa. But I can't take all of the credit. Armin here gave me pointers, and Reiner and Betholdt told me to keep calm and not to give up." He then turns to the male blonde seated next to him. "Isn't that right, buddy?"

Armin’s lips quirk upwards. “It’s true that you got help, but all the work was you.”

“Armin’s right.” Reiner’s deep voice resounds from one side of the crowd. To his left, Bertholdt silently watches the interactions with a small smile. “At the end of the day, you were the one ultimately responsible for your success.”

Jean watches as more trainees give the brunette praises for his resolve and performance. It isn’t until he feels something nudge him in the side that he turns away.

“Just talk to him already.” Marco urges with a knowing look.

Jean scoffs at the comment. “Talk to Yeager? About what?”

Marco simply gives him a half-amused and half-exasperated smile. “You know what I mean.” He then picks up his glass of water. “It’s good that you want to apologize. It’s a mature thing to do.” He says before taking a drink.

Jean grumbles something unintelligible as he observes the sky through an open window. The last rays of sunlight are starting to fade behind the darkening sky. He can see some of their Commandant's assistant officers patrolling the grounds and inspecting the outdoor training equipment to ensure they're still working properly.

As his gaze lands on the row of 3DM gear simulators, Jean recalls how he, along with nearly everyone, laughed at Eren when he failed to steady himself using 3DM gear during his first attempt. He also remembers snidely commenting that Yeager was just "all talk and no bite" and how he brushed him off when he asked for pointers to improve.

Jean then sighs before getting up and walking over to the green-eyed recruit’s table.

---

Armin and Eren were in the middle of speaking with fellow recruits when the blonde sees Jean walking up to their table.

“Uhh… Eren?” He taps his friend on the shoulder.

At the prodding, Eren turns away from Mina and Thomas, who were standing behind him. His eyes narrow at the sight of Jean standing behind the other recruits surrounding their table. “What do you want, horse face?”

The entire room goes silent as everyone turns to Jean. The man in question averts his gaze as his cheeks flush at suddenly being the center of attention.

He stays silent for a moment before speaking. “I’m not here to fight.” He then finally raises his gaze to look at Eren. The crowd parts as he moves closer to the table.

Armin notes the sudden tension in the air as his childhood best friend stares at Jean with a cautious look – he deduces that Eren is not entirely convinced that Kirstein came in peace.

Jean halts when he’s near the edge of their table, just a couple of feet from where Eren sits. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I’ll be honest. I still think that going after Titans is stupidly dangerous.”

Eren's eyes further narrow at the remark. He rises to his feet, but Armin pulls at his arm before he can move towards Jean. "Hear him out first.” The blonde half-pleads.

Eren frowns but nonetheless sits back down. His eyes are still trained on Kirstein, who instinctively took a step back at his abrupt movement.

Jean takes another breath before continuing. “But I now get how serious you are.” He admits, voice quiet but clear. “You have real resolve, and I respect that. And I’m…” He pauses, his pride momentarily stifling his next words.

“… I’m sorry for making fun of you before.”

Some trainees gasp lightly while some simply stare – all surprised at his gesture. Armin sees that even Connie and Sasha have paused their food-related grappling to gawk at Jean. The blonde also quietly muses that the entire room probably half-expected another fight to erupt between the two boys. All eyes are now trained on Eren, who looks astounded with his eyes widened and mouth slightly agape.

Armin then lightly nudges his friend’s shoulder. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

The question shakes the green-eyed trainee from his stupor. He blinks once before rising to stand – more calmly, Armin notes approvingly.

“Thanks, Jean.” The hardened look in his gaze is now gone. “I appreciate you saying that. Apology accepted.” He says with a small smile.

“And for what it’s worth…” Eren trails off as his eyes dart downwards, a hint of shame in them, “… I shouldn’t have scoffed at you for wanting to go into the Interior. After all, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be safe.”

He then looks directly at Jean again. “So, I guess I also owe you an apology.” He admits with a half-smile, hoping that it would lighten the mood.

It seems to have worked as Kirstein offers him a smile. “Glad to know that you can see things my way, Yeager.”

Eren grins more naturally at the response. “So… friends?” He asks, voice tentative as he holds out his hand.

Jean looks at the offered hand in surprise for a moment before observing the other boy’s expression. There’s a mix of uncertainty and apprehension in his countenance – possibly wary of how he would respond. But the look in Yeager’s eyes tells him that the offer of friendship is genuine.

He eventually grasps the hand offered to him. “Friends.” He says while giving it a firm shake.

There’s a smattering of applause as the crowd gives a slight cheer at the show of camaraderie. Armin especially claps heartily at the sight of the usually hot-headed Eren making peace with Jean even as he hears Connie yelp when Sasha takes advantage of the distraction to take a massive bite from the Springer boy’s loaf.

“Well, it’s nice that we’re all finally getting along.” Marco comments with a smile from the sidelines, hands still pressed together from clapping.

Jean sends a slightly annoyed look at Marco, who only continues to smile in return.

---

End Note: So, the 104th gang finally appears! Since Mikasa is a veteran in this story, I wanted to play a little with the dynamics of the 104th's relationships with one another. On this, I wanted Eren and Jean to have a friendlier relationship in this story than in canon. I hope that I was able to execute this idea (as well as all my other ideas) properly. Lol.

In any case, let me know what you think! Critiques and comments are most welcome!

#rivamika #levimika #levi x mikasa

25 notes · View notes

magalidragon · 4 years ago

Note

n°7 - “Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

In the “Heat Wave” universe, pretty please!😊

YES! Love these beans! 🔥🔥🔥 And because I also got another ask for this same universe, I’ve combined it into one Drabblish-ish (2700 words, not 2500, lol). And THANK YOU FOR THE MOODBOARD DARLING! Enjoy!

Smutty One Liner Prompts

7. “Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

10. “Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you.”

Bliss, that's what this was, Dany thought, her eyes still closed, her breathing even, and her skin tingly and warm. She sighed, exhaling out any worry she might continue to have—there was no more worry now that she was out of the Hell House and living in Heaven's Hall—her body nestled in a soft, fluffy mattress with thick quilt and soft flannel sheets covering her. She smiled, serene, and opened her eyes slowly, peering up at a set of red eyes, watching her.

She smiled wider, quirking an eyebrow up. "That's really creepy Ghost."

Ghost said nothing, licked his chops, and then her face, and hopped away from his nighttime stalking. She chuckled, sitting up on her elbows, glancing at three faces underneath one of the throw blankets over the bed, all of her little dragons purring contentedly, no doubt thankful she had relocated them completely. She wiggled her toes, returning feeling to them, and scanned the room, which was empty.

The snow had eventually stopped, the wind fading away, and now the sun was out, but to her surprise, she must have slept through most of the day. Bloody cold, she cursed inwardly, for she never got sick. She had slept most of the last couple of days, interspersed with coughing fits, cranky moments of letting Jon take her temperature and pour soup and tea down her throat, and the occasional "I am not sick, so you can totally fuck me, I promise I won't pass out" debates. He had refused, tucking her into the big bed in his room, saying that she was his patient now, and one did not take advantage that way.

"You're too honorable for your own good," she bitched, the last time she'd tried to suggest a little nookie.

"Sue me."

"Hmm, I might."

He simply kissed her nose, told her she was adorable with her pouting, and she fell asleep before she could reply, cursing her body for succumbing to this strange Southern cold during this strange Southern storm.

It was almost sundown; the light fading overtop the trees cocooning the house on the mountainside. She blinked at the reflection of the snowy treetops in the huge windows and felt good. Good enough to get out of bed, she figured, sliding free of the sheets, the huge Night's Watch hoodie falling over her hips to her knees and sleeves over her fingertips. She shuffled in her thick wool socks—also stolen from Jon—to the bathroom, flicking on the light and taking stock of her reflection.

Her nose was chapped from blowing into Kleenex, her eyes slightly blood-shot, and her hair was a nest of epic proportions, she wondered if there was a dragon living in it. She scrubbed her cheek with her palm, shaking her head, and glanced at Ghost, who looked up at her curiously. "Do you think I'm sexy Ghost?" She put on a fake pose, thrusting her hip to the side, pretending to look cute in the oversized sweatshirt and nothing else.

Ghost did not indicate one way or the other. He just wandered off towards the sunken tub, hoping into it and then put his paws on the other side, tail wagging and gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows. She wandered over, sitting on the edge, and followed his gaze, smiling down at Jon, who was moving firewood from the deck into the house. She scratched Ghost's head. "Thank you for keeping me company, I'm sure you'd rather be with him."

She ran her fingers as best through her hair as she could, wincing at tangles. "Ugh." A shower was necessary. She shivered; it was still chilly, even with the heat returning, the pipes back to working order.

Somewhere in the bedroom, her phone dinged. She left Ghost to his watch, getting off the bathtub edge and went to pick it up from the nightstand, staring at the email notification from Tyrion Lannister.

Thank you for your message, Lannister Properties is currently closed due to significant weather activity, we will respond in due time. She scoffed, opened up one of the emails that had been sent immediately after and saw that indeed, Tyrion had replied.

Ms. Targaryen, I was sorry to see your negative review of our property. As you know, significant weather activity is possible, and while we cannot compensate you for any destruction caused by Acts of the Gods, we would like to offer you a 20 percent discount on your next Lannister Property rental. A Lannister always pays their debts, and we would like to no longer be in debt to you! Thank you, Tyrion P.S. Our insurance investigator will survey the property damage and be in touch regarding your payment options.

Her mouth dropped. "Fuck you!" she shouted at the email. She would definitely be handling this stupid little lion herself. After drafting a very strongly worded email with tons of legal jargon she hoped would have the Lannister quaking in his boots, she dropped her phone, a muscle twitching somewhere in her shoulder. She rubbed at it, scowling at the dragons, who were watching her from where they now were seated on her pillow. She shook her head. "Fucking Lannisters."

At least she had Jon, she figured, and picked up her phone again, sending a quick message to Missandei. Despite the weather, the plague, and the shitty rental, I'm feeling much better now.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately. She smirked at her BFF's reply: Yes, I've heard endless banging can do that to a person.

After saying that she was not endless banging Jon-- they'd had to take a break because of the plague after all-- she put the phone on silent, charged it up, and then padded back into the bathroom, because now she well and truly needed a hot, long, relaxing shower....or...maybe...

Her eyes landed on the tub. It had been used just to store water those first couple days without power, but a week later....she swished her lips around and decided. She deserved a soak. Just like she wanted when she first saw it. She leaned over and tugged on the taps, letting the hot water pour in, steam instantly rising. It was rather deep, like a small pond, and she puttered about looking for some candles, finding a few in another bedroom and even some bath salts. They smelled divine, lavender and eucalyptus, perfect for relaxing and also shaking loose any remaining crap in her nose from the cold.

She watched the bubbles foam, fluffy and cloudlike, almost resembling the snow that pillowed along the windowsills outside. The sun had fully disappeared behind the trees, the stars peeking out. It was rather breathtaking, maybe even something she might have seen if she'd been up at the Wall with Missandei and Grey instead of down in Dorne, when she had planned to just watch sunsets over red sand dunes and mountains. Go figure, she was getting the North and she didn't even pay for it.

Stripping out of her hoodie and her granny panties— Jon had thankfully not continued to make fun of her for their use while she was sick—she slipped into the tub, hissing at the first touch of the hot water on her skin, and then moaning in delight, her dragonblood positively singing. Her brothers jokingly referred to her as "the Unburnt" because for whatever reason she did not feel pain with heat. Barely even flinched when fire flicked her fingertips as she loaded the fireplace with wood, to Jon's shock.

It was straight out of the Heavens of Valyria, she thought, sinking fully under the foamy bubbles, the lavender soothing her dry skin, the eucalyptus filling her lungs, crisp and healing. She reached to adjust her knotty hair, piled on her head, and closed her eyes, groaning happily the deeper she sunk into the tub. The lights off, the candles all around her, it was how she wouldn't mind spending another power outage.

Ghost was not one to leave her out, his head on the edge of the tub, accepting wet scratches now and then on his head. She chuckled, opening an eye to peer at him. "If you want in here, you're welcome to it, but I'm not dealing with that wet dog smell later."

He huffed, annoyed.

The only thing truly missing, she realized, after an undetermined amount of time later, was some music, a glass of wine, and a very attractive, very sexy, very naked Jon Snow.

"Well look at you."

Eyes springing open, she turned her head sideways, spotting Jon leaning against the door frame. His sweaty curls slicked at his neck and temples, his t-shirt and sweats damp from the snow and exertion of moving all the firewood around. In his hands, he had a bottle of beer and a glass of wine. She smirked. "Which one is for me?"

"Which one do you prefer?"

"Gimme."

He already knew her, handing her the Dornish red, while he sipped at the Northern ale. He glanced at Ghost, who was scowling up at him. "What? I'm not giving you a bath."

"Am I in his tub?"

"Yes, he likes baths."

"Your dog is very weird Jon Snow."

"Don't I know it." His eyes darkened, the candlelight shooting off the gray irises in sparks, his lip curling over his teeth in a wry smile. "In fact, I have to say, I'm a little upset with you."

She smirked, flicking some bubbles at him. "Oh yeah?"

"Aye, you're sharing bathtime with my dog and not me."

Ghost stuck his nose into the bubbles, blowing them up into the air and snatching them with his teeth, until some went up his nose and he sneezed, rubbing his nose into the rug. She sat up, peering over the edge of the tub, laughing. "Oh Ghostie! You alright prumia?"

The Valyrian for 'my heart' had begun slipping easily when it came to the fluffy dog, who whined, rubbed his nose with his paw, and accepted her kisses, even if some of the water dripped from her arms and shoulders when she leaned over to reach him. She fell back into the tub, once Ghost had finished with her, and wandered off, the door banging shut after him. She frowned, about to ask, but Jon answered the unspoken question.

"Aye, he closed the door. He also likes giving people privacy."

As he had kept to himself, hiding off away from them during those couple nights on the floor in front of the fireplace, she had to thank the dog for that. She smirked up at Jon, who looked a bit annoyed, and was toeing off his socks, the beer now on the edge of the tub. She sipped he wine, surveying him appreciatively, the black t-shirt falling to the floor. She purred, recognizing the gleaming lust in his eyes. "Who knew jealousy was such a powerful motivator for you?"

"Jealous?" he scoffed. "No way."

"Hmm." She disagreed.

“Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

When she opened her eyes, she found that he was naked, the sweatpants joining the t-shirt and his socks. She licked her lips, shifting and gestured; there was more than enough room. She smirked at him, as he stepped in and yelped. “Careful, it’s hot,” she cooed. Gathering some bubbles, she piled them in front of her, annoyed that they shielded her favorite part of him from her gaze. She had an ulterior motive of course, for hiding her body from him, smirking as he scowled back at her, no doubt mad he couldn’t see beyond the lavender scented shield.

He sank back into the tub, his head popping over the side, leaning on the other edge and his feet sliding along her legs, before they stopped on either side of her arse. She slipped her leg along his, the salts and soaps giving her skin an added slickness. He narrowed his eyes on hers and she smiled, innocent, as her foot moved over his calf, his thigh, and then pressed between them, her brows arching. “Hmm,” she murmured. “Such…hard work out there.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was alone in bed when I woke up,” she continued. She sniffed, hoping her voice didn’t have the added thickness to it from her cold. She was trying to be sexy, scooping up a handful of bubbles and blowing them towards him.

A little pillow of bubbles landed on his head and he smiled, eyebrow lifting. “Cute.”

“You do look cute.”

“I don’t usually like baths.” He flicked some bubbles away from her chest, scowling again at them. “They’re blocking the view.”

“Well that’s too bad.”

“It really is. Makes things…inaccessible too.”

“And what are those?” Her foot was still sliding along his cock, her toes tickling along the hard, thick length, and suddenly it fell to the side, as he lunged towards her, a wolf with its prey. Water splashed around them, bubbles everywhere, and before she knew it, his arms were around her thighs, hoisting her up to the edge of the tub, and splaying her legs out. A wicked grin shot up at her, his sinful lips twisted, and eyes black. She cried out, before she even knew what was happening, and he tugged her forward, arms wrapped around her legs, which fell over his shoulders, and he dove down.

The first thing she felt was his tongue, spearing straight into her. “Fuck!” she screamed, clenching around his head and grabbing at his wet curls. She moaned, long and low, her head falling backwards, smacking against the foggy windowpane. She kept a hand on his hair and her other fell back as well, grappling for something to hold, and eventually found the edge of the window itself, holding tight to the wooden frame.

He feasted like a man starved, his tongue slipping in and around her folds, which had already been damp at the sight of him and had grown increasingly slick with her need for him as he teased her and stripped in front of her. She panted, Valyrian babbling with “Jon” and “fuck” and “yes”, everything he did in response to her body’s craving. His tongue was pure magic, lips suckling here and there, and his hand breaking free of her leg to slip between them, a single thick finger sliding inside, crooking at just the right angle to find the spot inside of her that had her whining, high-pitched, desperate to come.

Flicking his tongue around her entrance, he gathered up her wetness with it and carried it to her clit, nibbling and sucking the little bud, alternating between giving it the attention she wanted and sliding it back into her, a second finger now joining the first. He let go of her other thigh, since she was holding herself up and his other hand pressed above her pubic bone, at the exact moment his fingers pressed to that magic spot, the pressure too much for her to bear.

She was coming, the flame already flickering, and stoked higher and higher. She gripped his hair so tight; she almost tore it clean from his skull, and when her eyes pried open long enough to meet his, that devious, devilish look that told her he knew exactly what he was doing, she couldn’t take it. It shattered her, the flame exploding into thousands of tiny ones, engulfing her.

Hand falling off the window, smearing finger tracks down the condensation, she thrust her hips aimlessly into his mouth, her body clenching, spasming around him. He carried on, careful of her sensitivity, and kept moving, fingers slipping along, this thumb tapping and circling, and tongue angling through, drinking up her sweetness. She came again, her body quivering, exhausted.

It all felt so good, so fuzzy, and she slipped back into the tub, water splashing out over the edges, her head almost falling straight under the top of the still steaming water. He caught her, turning so she was draped over his chest, the bubbles fading away around them. His cock was still hard, pressed between his abdomen and hers, and she lifted her hips enough to trap him there, teasing her and him both. “Soon,” she sighed, eyes closed. “Give me a minute.”

He brushed his lips over top her hairline, damp now with sweat. “Feeling better?”

Rising over him as best she could, at the awkward angle, bathwater and bubbles still coating her skin, she reached her hand around his head to pull his mouth to hers, groaning at the taste of herself she still felt on his tongue. “Oh Jon, you have no idea how good I feel now.”

“Glad to hear it.”

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