#but i need a little break from horror and just spent 2 hours watching man abs so i figured “hey lets write for some spartans” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dramioneficrecommendations · 4 years ago

Text

Best Draco/Hermione Fics Dramione Shippers Read in 2020

A few days ago, I asked you what were the best Dramione fics you'd read in 2020. Here's the huge list of your excellent recs (in alphabetical order):

A Creature Most Unusual by JMilz: Draco Malfoy is on a mission. Unfortunately, Hermione Granger catches him in the act. When she sees that he has adopted a rather unusual magical creature, she becomes determined to make sure he takes care of it. Little does she know, the animal may hold her key to eternal glory . . . and a whirlwind romance. M, 9 Chapters, 24,460 Words

A Little More Alive, Far Less Lost by MGL_Dramione_Lover: After Draco's post-war trial, he finds himself attending his 8th year at Hogwarts with Hermione. As remorse and acceptance replace anger and hate, the old enemies begin a friendship that sparks into much more than they ever hoped for. Hermione's goal as Head Girl is to banish old prejudices and unite the school while Draco's only wish is to become a man worthy of her love. M, 22 Chapters, 84,823

A New Light by mithrilstarlight: Draco spent six years doing his best to keep his head down. Then he runs into Hermione Granger. Turns out, they actually have a lot in common.Chapters posted M/W/F. T, 18 Chapters, 33,876 Words

A Second Look by RiverWriter: Her best friend's life was a mess and she would have done anything to make things better for him and his sons. So, when she found her former enemy in a similar situation her heart went out to him as well... and the beautiful blond baby in his arms didn't hurt his case. It was certainly enough for her to give him a second look. M, 30 Chapters, 127,243 Words

All that is Rare by smithandbarrowman: In the wizarding world, it has long been assumed that men are Alphas and women are Omegas. However, when Hermione Granger discovers that assumptions are rarely factual, her status as one of only a handful of female alphas that has ever existed has men falling at her feet.But there’s only one man she wants, and like the male alphas before her, the hunt is on until he bears her mark. E, 31 Chapters, 119,755 Words

All the Wrong Things by LovesBitca8: Sequel to "The Right Thing to Do" - Draco's POV. Part 2 of the "Rights and Wrongs" series. E, 24 Chapters, 160,297 Words

All You Want by senlinyu: Eighth Year at Hogwarts was supposed to be Hermione’s. And it is, just not in the way she expects. Omegaverse fic. E, 36 Chapters, 172,651

apples & cream by LovesBitca8: She could have taken her things and gone through his Floo without a word. She could have ignored him on Monday morning, as though last night had been no more than a fever dream and too much Firewhisky. But she’d come back to bed. Inspired by the lovely NikitaJuice's "apples & cream." E, 1 Chapter, 1,426 Words

Beginning and End by mightbewriting: Years. Broken into months into weeks into days—into hours, minutes, seconds—into moments. Simple at one end, complex at the other. In Draco’s experience, moments, even when simple, had a habit of becoming irretrievable. Moments grew, stretched, multiplied into ages and eras that defined whole stretches of measurable time. Draco regretted several moments in his life, some within his control, some without: all of them irretrievable in nature. At a certain point, wedged between ‘what-ifs’ of his own devising, he’d stopped trying to keep track of those regrettable moments: now and then, pushing and pulling, coming and going, beginning and end. Moments were only moments for just as long. After that, he had no control. A Draco POV prequel to Wait and Hope. E, 48 Chapters, 242,100 Words

Bells on a Hill by HeyJude19: Left by his fiancée a month before the ceremony, Draco never got his dream wedding, so agreeing to assist Granger with her own wedding planning to distract himself from his broken engagement seems like a great idea—though Draco probably shouldn't fall in love with the bride-to-be. Based very (very) loosely on The Wedding Singer. T, WIP

Bending Light by scullymurphy: Draco Malfoy was in exile, though they called it protection. It was the summer after sixth year and he'd taken Dumbledore's offer, defected to the other side and been sent away to a small town in Italy for his troubles. No magic, few rules, and not a lot to do - until Hermione Granger showed up. M, WIP

Break for me by Ada_P_Rix: COMPLETE _______________ "-I told them this wouldn’t work.” He cut in through gritted teeth as he kept his eyes on Hermione, making her pulse quicken and she couldn’t help but clench her thighs together at the rough, husky tone of his voice. He didn’t miss it; his eyes landed on her thighs and they darkened even further. “I can’t help her when all I feel like I want to do is pin her down and fuck her into the mattress.” _______________ Hermione gets into a little accident at work and is infected with a hybrid potion created to cause certain heightened side effects. Draco offers to stick around to give his work partner a little support ... if he can Occlude long enough to resist her... E, 7 Chapters, 45,107 Words

Breath Mints / Battle Scars by Onyx_and_Elm: For a moment, she's almost giddy. Because Draco Malfoy's been ruined by this war and he's as out of place as she is and — yes, he has scars too. He's got an even bigger one. She wonders whether one day they'll compare sizes. E, 51 Chapters, 148,908 Words

Bring Him to His Knees by Musyc: Draco is on the case of a murderer, but to investigate, he needs a fake relationship - and a kink club play partner. When Hermione volunteers to take the role, both do their best to maintain the lie without letting each other know the truth: neither of them are acting. E, WIP

Calendar Boys by anne_ammons, Nadiapolyakova (Rijaya83): She had thrown out the idea on a lark, but now Hermione Granger was tasked with bringing the charity calendar to life. What was one more thing on her list? An art/writing collaboration between nadiapolyakova and anne_ammons - twelve photos and a piece of the story behind them. M, WIP

Cherry Mint by dirtymudblood: "He could smell her. Even multiple train cars away, he could smell her. Except, Draco didn’t know who she was. He ignored his natural instincts to pant like a dog and follow the scent to the omega in the beginning stages of heat. Instead he willed himself to rub his knuckles against the rough wood of the table in front of him." E, 27 Chapters, 58,081 Words

Dark Water and Dying Eyebrights by bexchan: One of them is desperately trying to remember their past while the other is forever trying to escape theirs. It's seven years after the war and Draco has managed to avoid almost everyone from Hogwarts, living a lonely life on a small island, far away from the wizarding community. But a familiar face in a cafe window capsizes his world into chaos. Dramione. EWE. Memory fic. M, WIP

Difficult by provocative envy: COMPLETE: "I should," I repeated. "But I don't want to." And then he smiled, and I was wrecked. HG/DM. M, 30 Chapters, 87,041 Words

Don't Look Back by Onyx_and_Elm: It’s the smell of it. Chemical. Bitter and sharp as a raw edge on metal. Just a hint of it as she passes him at breakfast — but enough to stop her dead, mid-step. There is Wolfsbane in his tea. E, WIP

Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time by monsterleadmehome: She scoffs. “If you must know, he ‘elected’ me because he thinks our shared animosity will keep you in check. He’s also not worried about you trying to shag me as a distraction.” He leans back, stubbing out his cigarette on the banister. His eyes rove over her from crown to toe and back. She lifts her chin and tries not to shiver. “Well, he’s right about that.” Lucius Malfoy hires Hermione Granger to whip his son into shape so he can find a pure-blood bride and receive his inheritance. What could go wrong? E, 10 Chapters, 48,092 Words

Draco's Gift by TriDogMom: Draco gives Hermione a gift because of an instructional YouTube video. M, 1 Chapter, 1,705 Words

Dragon in the Dark by GracefulLioness: The battle is won, Voldemort is dead, but the war is far from over. In the new Death Eater regime, Draco Malfoy does what he must to survive and keep his mother safe. Now a highly trained assassin, Draco has learned to think of his targets as inhuman beings, but when he is tasked with killing someone from his past, he can no longer hide from the horrors of the world around him. E, 31 Chapters, 164,782 Words

For a Present Under the Tree by grace_lou_freebush: When Draco and Hermione eloped, the Wizarding World turned against them. Hermione is stuck in a low level, low paying Ministry job with no hope of upward movement. Draco can't even convince someone to hire him. Now, it's Christmas, and Draco knows Hermione deserves the world - or at the least a Christmas gift. He finds the perfect hair comb to replace the horrid Muggle brush she's been making due with, and he'll do anything to afford the paltry present so he can have something to put under the Christmas tree for his wife. Making a beeline for the jewelry box containing the hair combs, Draco rifled through them, landing on an ivory comb with queen anne rose carvings and gold filigree detailing. He brought it to the startled shopkeeper and set it down gently. Pulling his sixth generation Malfoy heirloom pocket watch from his coat, he shoved it in the wizard's face without second guessing himself. "I would like to make an exchange." E, 1 Chapter, 10,141 Words

Fortuitous by MrsRen: Recently divorced Draco doesn't believe in the ideology of having one true love. He certainly doesn't expect to meet his match in a Halloween themed coffee shop, but fate has a peculiar way of giving you just what you need. M, 13 Chapters, 93,695 Words

Fuck, Marry, Avada by Lilian_Silver: Some years after the war, the gang meets up at the Leaky to play a silly game, with very real consequences. E, 1 Chapter, 3,106 Words

Give Me An Hour by RZZMG: As the war continues to rage on around them, Hermione Granger decides to seduce fellow Order Member, Draco Malfoy, one night while at Grimmauld Place... and everything between them changes after that. Fic follows the "five times" trope, and is dedicated to raspberryjukebox. One-shot. A/U-Extended War scenario. Dramione. Drama-Romance-Hot Shag! COMPLETE! M, 1 Chapter, 3,251 Words

Good Girl by arabellaleyes: Hermione is tired of their normal routine in the bedroom. What will happen when she asks Draco to spice things up? One-shot. Complete. M, 1 Chapter, 9,000 Words

Hindsight by floorcoaster: It's a New Year and Hermione decides it's time to make some changes. T, 12 Chapters, 167,694 Words

How to Love Thy Neighbour by WhatSoMalfoy: After her relationship with Ron falls apart, Hermione attempts to juggle a personal muggle life with a professional wizarding one. After encountering her high school nemesis in the most unlikely place, Hermione adds another ball to the juggling mix. M, 14 Chapters, 41,992 Words

How to Move On by longdistance: It's been nearly a decade since the war. A long time since she locked herself away. A long time since he faced his mistakes. She's what he wants. He's what she needs. It's time for both of them to figure out how to move on. M, WIP

Hydrotherapy by eilonwy: Draco finds a trip to the showers after playing Quidditch... enlightening. E, 2 Chapters, 7,163 Words

I Choose You by melanoradrood: At the end of Fifth Year, Hermione finds out why It is that none have approached her with a Marital Contract, the only way she can remain in the Wizarding World after Graduation. It has already been signed by her Magical Guardian, someone she has never met - she is to be the next Lady Malfoy. A year and a half later, she is a married witch, but still, Draco Malfoy, who had chosen her above all others, had not spoken of it. In fact, they barely spoke at all. And when trouble heads their way, Hermione means to change that. Really, she means to change a lot of things. E, 5 Chapters, 24,527 Words

Isolation by Bex-chan: He can't leave the room. Her room. And it's all the Order's fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something's going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. "There," she spat. "Now your Blood's filthy too!" DM/HG. PostHBP. Now complete with epilogue. M, 49 Chapters, 284,050 Words

It Happened in Egypt by bionically: Wandless in Egypt: Draco's stranded in Egypt, but luckily, there's a Granger in sight. Now, if only he could be prevented from strangling her. Fun times abroad: It was supposed to be a leisurely solo trip down the Nile. Hermione didn't factor in one blond man from her past and all his drama. Then, of course, there's the fact that everyone's after him. Much hilarity ensues. Maybe. *** A rom-com adventure/mystery featuring two unwilling partners on the run from Lucius Malfoy, alien-hunters, Muggle police, and local wizards engaged in a civil war. T, WIP

Love and Other Misfortunes by senlinyu: Draco Malfoy is dying. He's part-Veela and needs his mate to survive. Post-war, Hermione Granger is a workaholic, up to her eyeballs in legal activism on behalf of Magical Beings, and hasn't yet noticed that Malfoy is the Magical Being who needs her most. “Because I don’t want to be saved by you just because you feel like you have to.” He was properly furious now. “I’m in love with you." Hermione stared at him. She knew but somehow hearing him say it made the air shimmer with magic. "I’m in love with you,” he said again, despairingly. “And that means I want you to be as happy as you possibly can. And you won’t be, not with me.” M, 23 Chapters, 98,584 Words

Manacled by senlinyu: Harry Potter is dead. In the aftermath of the war, in order to strengthen the might of the magical world, Voldemort enacts a repopulation effort. Hermione Granger has an Order secret, lost but hidden in her mind, so she is sent as an enslaved surrogate to the High Reeve until her mind can be cracked.Now illustrated by Avendell. E, 77 Chapters, 370,473 Words

Measure Of A Man by inadaze22: To truly know someone is to differentiate between who they once were, who they are now, and who they're capable of being. Hermione realises the duality of one man as she rectifies what she knows of the past and begins to understand the pieces of who Draco Malfoy is now: a father, a son, and a man. E, WIP

Meet the Malfoys by raven_maiden: 4 Works, 21, 442 Words

of flavoured names and coloured sounds by Pink Panda (Ejacyeolation): "He doesn’t question it at first, the fact that sounds have colours and words have flavours. He grows up with it, grows up seeing powerful ruptures of colour when his mother plays the piano and softer, translucent bursts when the people around him speak. His father’s voice fills his vision with sombre oranges and lilacs while his mother’s is a pleasant mix of delicate greens, blues, and greys. The word father tastes like wet wood and the word mother tastes like the pumpkin juice the house-elves frequently serve him."In which Draco just wants to know what colour Hermione's moans would be. He also wants to know if her skin would taste as sweet as her surname or maybe as intoxicating as her given name. E, 2 Chapters, 10,351

Once Upon a Night by longdistance: One night will change everything. M, 17 Chapters, 57,444 Words

One and Done by PacificRimbaud: Hermione Granger has a career she loves, friends she can depend on, and a nice set of hand towels for her new flat. She's single and tired of tiresome men, but that doesn't stop her from wearing beautiful lingerie underneath her serious Ministry skirts. Or having pictures taken in naughty knickers. Just once. For herself. Draco Malfoy doesn't get upset at the sight of blood, which is good, because he sees a lot of it. What he doesn't see a lot of is Hermione Granger in her unmentionables. Usually. A series of meetings and mix-ups in which one cannot possibly mean done. E, 4 Chapters, 35,011 Words

Our shared silence by Vofastudum: She wakes up one morning and everyone is just gone, vanished like they never existed at all. Everyone but Him. And in this silent solitude, he's all she has. Hermione and Draco alone in empty castle. Mystery and a plot twist you didn't see coming! EDITED 10/2020 M, 17 Chapters, 40,149 Words

Pinned by bionically: Draco doesn't know what he's expecting when he follows Blaise down a dark alley, but it certainly isn't this. For a man with an addictive personality, this isn't going to turn out well. Assigned trope: Voyeurism *** Or, a chance encounter with a frizzy-haired witch from his misbegotten past in the last place anyone should have expected to see her sets Draco's disordered life on its ear. The path to redemption is truly paved with unexpected surprises. E, 20 Chapters, 110,886 Words

Really Sell It by RoseHarperMaxwell: Draco's having a rough eighth year, and Hermione's going to make it better for him. "Well, it’s clear what needs to happen.” She gripped his chin, tilting his head to make sure she hadn’t missed any injuries, before looking straight into his eyes. “You’re my boyfriend now.” *Featuring fake dating, exhibitionism, and sex-positive Hermione Granger. Submission for Farewell to Summer: The 31 Flavors of Smut Fest. E, 1 Chapters, 7,612 Words

Remain Nameless by HeyJude19: How did it feel? It felt like he was barely holding it together. She, of all people, should shun him. Or yell at him. Curse him. Spit at him. Take out her wand and blast him off the face of the earth. It was crushing guilt and relief and confusion all at once when he looked at Hermione Granger. The monotony of Draco’s daily routine had become both a lifeline and a noose. But this new habit of grabbing coffee with Hermione Granger is quickly becoming a reason to get out of bed and is unfortunately forcing him to re-evaluate his inconsequential existence. Hermione is living her life in fragments, separate pieces scattered about, and she can’t find a way to step back and let the full picture form. Why are morning meetings with Draco Malfoy the only thing that make sense anymore? E, 51 Chapters, 312,315 Words

Remember Us As War (but call us forgiveness) by Anyaparadox: Following the devastation of the Battle of Hogwarts, The Wizarding Population Growth Act is put into effect. All witches and wizards will be matched with their most compatible partner. Failure to comply will not be tolerated. Survival is key. Hermione reminds herself of this. Survival. She can fix this, if only she can survive. The war has made this a task she is equipped for. Marrying Draco Malfoy will hardly be the worst thing she's ever endured. M, WIP

Ring A Ring O' Roses by Gallivant: Dark Magic, Dark Wizards and a mysterious and deadly Dark Flux, which, in the wrong hands, has the terrifying potential to mass-murder Muggles and Muggle-borns ... It’s been fourteen years since the end of the Second Wizarding War and the Wizarding World is settled, stable and seemingly safe… Hermione Weasley has it all: a loving family, a successful career - and happiness… of sorts. But a series of unexpected events is about to turn her life upside-down, threatening those she loves, fatally undermining the peace between worlds that has prevailed for centuries … changing life as she knows it, possibly forever. If working with Draco Malfoy was the last thing Hermione Weasley ever wanted, falling for your enemy was the least expected. A quest to thwart a magical weapon of mass destruction has devastating consequences. A race to save the world, becomes a race to save themselves… M, 65 Chapters, 527,141 Chapters

Set Fire to the Rain by HarleyQuinn1317: What happens when the one you're destined for is the last person you should ever be with... When the Ministry of Magic asks for volunteers for their Marriage Initiative, Hermione Granger must come to terms with the one terrible deed she committed during the Second Wizarding War. Can she find it in her heart to forgive herself and finally learn to let love in? E, WIP

Sex and Occlumency by Graendoll: Hermione didn't escape from the war unscathed, and when she finally decides on a solution to her problems she's left to explore it on her own. A chance encounter with Draco Malfoy sets her world on it's head and leads her down a path towards healing that she would never have anticipated. E, 18 Chapters, 65,079 Words

The Art of Seating Etiquette by inadaze22: Hermione believes that every problem has a solution, and that solution can be found in a book. That is, until Draco starts sitting to her right every Friday. She has no answers until help comes in the form of an unlikely source: Ron Weasley. E, 1 Chapter, 9,734 Words

The Auction by LovesBitca8: In the wake of the Dark Lord’s triumph over Harry Potter, the defeated must learn their new place. Hermione Granger, former Golden Girl, has been captured and reduced to human chattel. Sold to the highest bidder as the top prize at an auction of Order members and sympathizers, she is thrust into the rabid, waiting hands of the Death Eaters. But despite the horrors of Voldemort’s new world, help—and hope—seem to arise from the most unlikely of places. PART 3 of the RIGHTS AND WRONGS series. E, 41 Chapters, 325,702 Words

The Binding by Curly_Kay: “Okay, what we know so far.” Hermione listed, "One, our magic is drawing us together. Two, we can use each other’s wands. Three, there were actual sparks when you touched me."After an infant binding ritual magically joins Hermione and Draco to counteract the Black family blood curse, they must navigate the secret binding through their years together at Hogwarts. E, 35 Chapters, 175,451 Words

The Carnal Club by Ada_P_Rix: COMPLETE The Halloween Ball is fast approaching with Hermione at the helm.... What a delightful time to suddenly learn of a centuries old secret sex-game club that is currently ran by a Blonde haired Slytherin. Oh, and it only happens once a year every October, when the winner takes all at the Halloween Ball ...The First Rule of Carnal Club: You do not talk about Carnal Club. E, 8 Chapters, 43,306 Words

The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy by Speechwriter (batmansymbol): The night that Harry and Dumbledore return from the cave, the Death Eaters are delayed from reaching the top of the Astronomy Tower for one more minute. Draco Malfoy lowers his wand. A Deathly Hallows rewrite in which Draco accepts Dumbledore's offer to fake his death and go into hiding with the Order of the Phoenix. T, WIP

The Erised Effect by Ada_P_Rix: Hermione and Pansy work in a shop together. Draco, Harry, Theo and Blaise all work together at the Ministry. They all meet up every Friday at the pub to have drinks. Pansy has a new fantasy potion that she likes to call 'The Erised Effect' that she's keen to try out on willing participants ... Boys are so easy to manipulate when alcohol is involved .... E, 13 Chapters, 88,852 Words

The Fallout by everythursday: Hermione learns about growing up through the redemption of Draco Malfoy. E, 49 Chapters, 310,229 Words

The Figures of Figuring Out by Vofastudum: You were the biggest riddle in my life. You were the one I couldn't figure out. You were the only thing I couldn't find a pattern to. You were something I couldn't look up from any book. Unwritten, with no instructions. And I was used to finding solutions! Post-war eight-year secret romance. Edited 12/2020 M, 13 Chapters, 26,951 Words

The Flat in Bath by Ada_P_Rix: Loosely inspired by 365 Days...-- Malfoy grabbed her chin, forcing her to look directly at him. “Don’t you dare, Granger...” He told her roughly as his intense gaze bored into her own. “I fucking forbid you to come until I’ve had enough of you...” Draco caught her cheeks now between the fingers of his free hand and then snapped her head to the side and licked her earlobe, trailing down to her jawline. “...one flutter of those delicious walls of yours and you’re going to wish you never opened your legs for me.” -- __________________ Hermione is kidnapped during a raid and taken captive by someone who doesn't plan on 'torturing' her in the conventional way... E, WIP

The Gloriana Set by ThebeMoon: The War is won, and Hermione Granger is back at Hogwarts as an “Eighth Year”, feeling reckless and determined to shed her prim bookworm persona. She will do as she pleases, and anyone who doesn’t like it will see the business end of her wand. Also returning is Draco Malfoy, universally hated but determined to restore his family’s name. Hermione’s hopes for a quiet school year are quickly dashed as she contends with mischievous First Years, killer plants, enchanted hair accessories, a totally inappropriate Moaning Myrtle, renegade Death Eaters, a nice vampire, a poorly named study group, a depraved party, and mysterious, threatening blood messages on the castle walls. We have redemption, partial redemption and (sadly or hilariously) no redemption at all. Throw in a snarky, disturbingly attractive Draco with his own secret agenda, and we have a very slow-burn Dramione with a side of who-dun-it. COMPLETE! M, 81 Chapters, 271,830 Words

The Library of Alexandria by senlinyu: The Library of Alexandria is not for just any witch or wizard. Many bookworms may try but few are permitted to pass through its doors. The books residing there are ancient and powerful and, if one happens to make a mistake, the consequences can be rather—novel. E, 6 Chapters, 26,383 Words

The List by AureliaBlack90: After her divorce, Hermione decides to get out of town to recover from the pain of her lost relationship and the miscarriage she suffered a year previously. She arrives in the Cotswolds depressed and aimless but compiles a list of things to do that she hopes will help her get back on her feet. In the midst of her journey to find healing she keeps running into Draco Malfoy, who is nothing like she remembered him. He invites her into his world, and Hermione finds exactly what she was looking for - in the place she least expected it. E, 10 Chapters, 70,526 Words

The Manuscript by alexandra_emerson: Five 1/2 years after the war, in the middle of a big fight with Draco, Hermione finds a manuscript. It’s a retelling of her and Draco’s love story, written by him. She never realized how much he was struggling before she read his words. Snippet: I could spend my whole life apologizing to you Hermione, and it would never be enough. Post-war, angst-filled Dramione with a happy ending. M, 21 Chapters, 154,918 Words

The Memory of You by PotionChemist: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger fell in love against all odds, but there was one big problem — he was already married. Pressured, Hermione does something she promised herself she would never do again and erases their affair from his memory. Completely devastated, she avoids seeing Draco or the Malfoys at all costs. But is their love too strong? Are they inevitable? What will happen if he finds out about their previous relationship? E, WIP

The Mountain and The Sea by AlexisDanaan: Hermione Granger was perfectly happy with her life, her job as a Healer Trainee, her ugly cat and her cute little house in the countryside. And then Draco Malfoy had to go and mess that all up, typical git. Post-Hogwarts, EWE, OOC, creature!fic. E, 12 Chapters, 40,441 Words

The Nietzsche Classes by Beringae: The Ministry takes action against the remaining prejudice in the wizarding society and asks Hermione for help. “What do you want? Money? Power? Name your price, Granger. I’m not about to let pride get in my way when an Azkaban sentence is on the line.” M, 15 Chapters, 45,807 Words

The Phoenix Potion by FedonCiadale: Twenty years after the battle of Hogwarts.... Harry is head auror and is worried about cases where Muggleborn children meet with accidents, Ron is a famous Quidditch keeper. Both haven't talked to Hermione for ages and certainly not to her husband, Draco Malfoy. Narcissa Malfoy struggles with a curse, and Neville and Luna try to stay friends with all. The key to solving the problems may lie in the past, a time nobody really wants to revisit and some can't. T, 111 Chapters, 237,745 Words

The Potioneers by omnenomnom: They need each other unfortunately. Hermione has tricked Draco under her tutelage, arrogant attitude and all. But she would be simple to think he would accept it quietly. They have both have secrets to hide, old wounds better left to fester, and a world full of mermaids, dragons, and magic to explore. T, 53 Chapters, 196,559 Words

The Pretense by Colubrina: Voldemort died, but the Death Eaters live on. Hermione Granger traded herself to Draco Malfoy in exchange for safe passage for core Order members. Now he's pretending to love her, Narcissa is pretending to believe that, and Hermione is walking a tightrope behind enemy lines as she figures out what is going on. Unfortunately, people fall off tightropes. (no non-con) T, 50 Chapters, 108,164 Words

The Right Thing To Do by LovesBitca8: Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, but she was a stupid girl. E, 36 Chapters, 174,911 Words

The Seven Year Witch by TheLastLynx: A boy and a girl have been meeting – coincidentally – for seven summers. While they pretty much hate one another most of the year, for those secret summer moments, they manage to see each other in a different light. But will that be enough to bring them together? A Dramione story about growing up and changing perspective, told along - and in-between - the lines of canon. M, WIP

Thirty Times Lucky by galfoy: "Granger, I can't hire you on any longer," Draco said. Hermione stared at him. Losing her job might actually mean losing the War, and she had to bargain, but there was literally nothing she had that he would want. Or was there? M, 2 Chapters, 7,128 Words

Traditions by raven_maiden: She straddled him slowly, still biting her lip, her hands on his shoulders. He held her hips tightly as he stared up at her. “So beautiful,” he whispered, and she flushed prettily, like she always did from his compliments. “You never need to hide from me.” ** Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy fell in love during the war. One year later, they're heading home for the holidays so he can finally meet her parents. There's just one teeny little problem: her parents think they're both Muggles. E, 14 Chapters, 68,767 Words

Waifs and Strays by Kyonomiko: War leaves a lot of orphans in its wake. Hermione is one, by her own hand, and she struggles with the realities of her situation. When she finds an orphaned familiar, it seems meant to be, giving and receiving comfort helping to heal her fractured heart. Unfortunately, the animal is actually a wizard, and he has his own issues. M, 31 Chapters, 118,152 Words

What You Think Is Right by icepower55: Six years after the war, Hermione parents are dying and her marriage to Draco is crumbling. Nothing seems logical in her life anymore. Her healer tells her to start writing about it, so she does, as a way to figure things out, and remind herself along the way. Hell is proximity without intimacy -Dante's Inferno M, WIP

When the Bell Tolls by everythursday: As a Dark revival begins to rise four years after the war, Hermione Granger is placed on the assignment of putting an end to them – and her first task is to recruit the Ministry's best hope and last option in the form of Draco Malfoy. E, 20 Chapters, 148,033 Words

Wreck by JMilz: Serving as Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger is finally at the peak of her career. With a beautiful family, a successful book, and the public on her side, her life should be a fairytale. Unfortunately, there is trouble in paradise, and when Draco Malfoy pays her a visit, she begins recalling their history and questioning her marriage. The reality is: every relationship is hard. M, 53 Chapters, 187,992 Words

Thanks to every person who contributed (I hope I've mentioned everyone. If not, let me know. 😊): @certified-arsehole @fedonciadale kiwim22 @really-sad-devil-guy endless-musings @headfullofnargles @pinksunsets-world @rosseliz01 @dramioneden @all-consuming @elricsister @injailoutsoon12 reclusivebird @mariakov81 @notthatchhavi @mordanbooqs @haaatch @hpsassenach @ybaeby @farmgirl-in @coyg-81 @eiramrelyat metterschling-plus-two @a-maidens-fantasy @sansacat @vofastudum @lexayeon @1800-rewrite @aneiria-writes @anonymouslydramione

It took much longer to compile this list than I thought it would. Hopefully, I didn’t skip anything. 🙈

Happy New Year. May it be better than the previous one and full of great Dramione fics and fanarts! 🥳🥳🥳

And here’s the 2019 list: https://dramioneficrecommendations.tumblr.com/post/190216354767/what-is-the-best-dramione-fic-you-read-in-2019

#dramione #Draco Malfoy #Hermione Granger #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp fandom #fic rec #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dramioneficrecommendations #2020

2K notes · View notes

murderslugs · 4 years ago

Text

Getting To Know Them || Slasher x Reader Bf/Gf Scenarios Pt 2

Jason Voorhees

When you woke, you were lying in a dim living room. The windows were boarded with thick, rotting oak planks and the doors were bolted shut. The only light left to illuminate the room was a small lamp on the old, rustic coffee table in front of you. Beneath you was a somewhat scratchy couch, clearly taken off of someone's front line with a paper labeled "free to take" on it, or from some dump. However, you were thankful that it at least wasn't the creaky wooden floor instead. You scratched at the rope around your wrists, loosened from being wriggled around and messed with.

You sat up and allowed your vision to re-adjust, and saw the same man in flannel and ski-mask in an arm-chair on the other side of the coffee table. He didn't seem to notice your awakening, or he at least didn't acknowledge it. He was reading a book with a maroon cover, and you couldn't make out the small copper-shaded title. You studied his movement. He was calm and showed little emotion in his body language, simply reading in peace.

In a split second, you decided to break the peace and silence. "Who are you?" The man put down the book in his lap, but only looked up at you for a moment, silent. You could see him think, then make a few hand gestures. You came to the realization that it was ASL, but you never really learned the language, despite your interest in it. You saw him take a deep breath and get up, grabbing a pen and a notebook off a table to the side. He slid the items onto the coffee table before you and slowly unbound your wrists. You wrote your question out again, "Who are you?" and slid it around for him to see. He read it, and wrote quickly, in slightly messy handwriting, "Jason. any more questions?" and slid the items back.

From here, you two went on for hours, listing out questions on the notebook and answering them for each other. You filled out pages and pages, ranging from basic questions to things like "what was your childhood like?" Certain things like that, he would pause and then write that he didn't want to talk about it. Through the night or day (due to the lack of natural light, it was hard to tell,) this game went on.

Michael Myers

Though you tried your best and struggled and squirmed, the man who had taken you still had gotten you tied to a chair; where you sat with a belt tying your wrists to the wooden beams, thankfully with a cushion underneath your rear. You shut your eyes for a second and groaned, throwing your head back. You always thought of yourself as strong and independent, a fighter who didn't need help from anyone. Alas, this was one ass you couldn't kick, and you hated yourself for it.

Across the kitchen, the bright lights shined on the tiled floor, and a tea kettle whistled ceaselessly. The sound of running water stopped as the man who had taken you walked from the bathroom and into the kitchen. The man dried his hands on his pants and took the kettle off the burner, shutting the flames off. You observed him take two random mugs from the cabinets above, and place them on the white countertop. He carefully poured the tea into the two cups, and a light herbal smell filled the air. After a moment, you recognized the smell of hibiscus tea. This was a familiar smell, something your aunt made every morning when you spent the night at her house in the summers between school years.

The man walked over and brought the two cups with him. A low, slightly muffled, silky voice came from behind the mask as he slid a mug across the table to you. "Careful, it's scolding." The tall, built man walked across and unbuckled one of your arms from the chair for you to pick up the mug with. "Drink." He said, before taking a seat before you. This is when he slid the mask off, to reveal a face beneath that you never would have expected. Dark brown, shaggy, messy, wavy hair fell over his forehead, and he blew it out of his grey eyes. His face was scarred and his lips were chapped, but it somehow wasn't unappealing or revolting.

"What's your name? Who the fuck are you?" You asked, leaning as far as you could with your restraints still intact. The man pushed his hair back and sighed heavily, sipping the near boiling tea. "Michael. 24. Libra." He said in a monotone voice. You rolled your eyes. "This is an introduction to your victim, not The Dating Game." You told him harshly. "Well, is there something specific you wanna know? It's not like your giving me anything to go off of, sugar cube." 'Michael' replied with the same energy in return. "Fine. I'm (Y/N). What else is there to say?"

Carrie White

Like the pale girl suggested, Carrie if you remembered correctly, you came back to the public library next Sunday, around noon. You had finished the book you had most recently checked out, so you had to return it anyways. Walking down the pavement, you saw here in a light sundress, walking up the few steps and into the library. You ran to catch up and followed her, careful not to startle the girl. As soon as you got inside, you carried yourself to just behind her, and tapped on her shoulder.

The girl turned around, and a look of confusion appeared on her features. "(Y/N). We met here last week? I suggested you check out Narnia." You reminded her, an eager smile painted on your face. A spark formed in her eyes, and she returned your smile. "Oh! Yes, yes, I remember. I'm sorry, my mind is awfully clouded lately." You assured her that it was alright, and you two went along.

The two of you walked down the aisles of bookshelves, and she looked for something new to try out. Maybe she would check out a cook-book and try a new recipe, or read up on WW1. Although, you DID notice that she avoided the religious aisle. However, you didn't comment on this, out of respect. You two checked out a few books, and on the paved outdoor steps, you stopped her. "Would you like to go for coffee or tea? Even a pastry? There's a little shop down the street, I'll buy. I'd just like to talk a bit.

Carrie obliged happily, and the two of you took your books and walked down to the small cafe. It had a dim, rustic theme, and brought peace to anyone who entered it's walls. There was a faint vanilla sent in the air, welcoming you two. For about an hour, Carrie sat down with you and talked about your life, your week, basic things. It was nice to get to know her. She seemed kind, and gentle. Everything about her was graceful, from the way she sipped her latte to the way she tucked her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. As you two finished up your chats, you grabbed your things and greeted each other farewell, agreeing to meet again next week.

Jennifer Check

The pair of you had become half-decent lab partners over the last few weeks, but she didn't seem to be doing well with the subject. As a result, you decided that you would volunteer to tutor her in the subject after school. So, there you were, on your way to her house after school to hang out and help her study up on the subject and with the homework. It was a cloudy day, and you could tell that a storm was brewing in those clouds above your head. Because of this, you decided to walk a bit faster to avoid being soaked.

As you arrived at Jennifer's house, you knocked gently on the door. When you received no answer, you hesitantly knocked harder. Very suddenly, a slightly older woman answered the door, assumingly Jennifer's mom. The woman looked you up and down, then quickly turned to yell over her shoulder, "Jenny! Your new friend is here!" She then quickly invited you in and brought you a small tray of white-chocolate macadamia nut cookies, offering you to take one or two ((If you have an allergy to nuts, then M&M cookies.)) "I made these for you two while you were studying. There's also sodas in the fridge in case you need a drink." Jennifer's mom said joyfully, before scooping the strap of a purse onto her shoulder. "I'll be off now, I have a job interview to get to. Jen's room is upstairs, first door on the right. Have fun you two!" She informed you before heading out the door.

You walked up the stairs until you found an oak door, and knocked before coming in. "Uh, hi, it's (Y/N), I'm here to help you study..?" You said as you slowly walked in and shut the door behind you. Jennifer was standing, looking in the mirror and smearing concealer under her eyes. She sighed and looked over to you. "Sit on the bed. You know, I was gonna gut you like a fish and drink your blood like a Slurpee, but my mom seems to like you, and I don't think you're too bad. Shame, would have been a great opportunity." She said nonchalantly. As she turned to you, you saw that her face was pale and broken out in acne.

Your heart skipped a beat and the color drained from your face. "I'm sorry, w-what...?" You tried to gulp down the fear in your words. "I'm a succubus, idiot. Don't think that I didn't notice you staring at the blood on my shoes the first day we met. I feed on people's bodies and sexual energy so I can feel good and look good. But I've decided you're worth keeping around, so I'll save that for the next chump. So, shall we get to know each other?" She said calmly as she sat down beside you on the bed.

Billy Loomis

You were home alone yet again, but this time it was mid day. You were watching horror movies out of boredom on your couch, when you got a call. You hesitantly answered, to hear a familiar voice on the other side of the phone. "I'm here, come let me in." You carried the phone with you. You figured one of your friends had stopped by to say hi, and their voice just sounded messed up due to shitty reception. You went to your front door, and looked through the peephole to see someone in a shitty costume, probably from Walmart, as it was October, and stores were starting to sell Halloween costumes and decorations. You hung up the phone and stuck it in your pocket, opening the door slightly with the chain lock still intact.

"Cut it out, prankster. That's not a very creepy costume. Ooo! I'm so scared!! Listen, I've seen the original Japanese film The Ring a million times, I'm not too scared of much." You heard the person sigh and push the door forward aggressively, breaking the lock. You jumped back in shock. "Hey! You're paying for that, asshole!" You yelled only for a quick response. "No, I don't think I will, beautiful. The man said, taking off his mask. To your shock, it was someone that you went to school with, Billy Loomis. You remember him graduating just the year before you, and were a bit shocked at his sudden appearance. You two had talked a bit, and you could consider yourselves acquaintances, but never really close friends.

Billy took a step forward, and in turn, you took one back. He put his hands up, showing he had no weapons in his hands. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt, that's not what I came to do. I just want to...get to know you. Look, you can pat me down, if you really feel the need. I don't have any weapons on me." You lowered your defenses a bit, but still kept them up. "Why would you want to know me so bad?" You asked hesitantly. "Well, I looked through your window and realized I'd found you again. And I wanted to get to know the pretty (girl/boy/person) I used to look at in the hallways every day." He said in a smooth tone. And that's where your night started.

Thomas Hewitt

It was a lovely Texas summer day. A warm breeze carried through the semi-tall grass in the fields, and the smell of fresh bread filled the small wooden house. On this fine afternoon, you happened to be listening to some old music, from the 50s-60s, and baking. When you least expected it, you heard a loud knock on the door. You figured it might have been one of your new neighbors looking to get to know you, or ask to borrow something. You strolled to the door and opened it, to see a rather large man in a butcher's apron, curly dark hair, and a rather scarred face on the other side. Though he had somewhat of a threatening aura, you knew that there was more behind his appearance.

You saw him open his mouth, but then stop and think for a moment. He hesitantly put his hands up and made a few broken and hand signals. You realized quickly that it was sign language, as you had an uncle growing up that happened to be deaf, so you learned it so that you two could talk. "I'm not deaf, I just don't like to speak." You watched him sign apprehensively, and responded allowed. "That's okay, hun. What can I do for you?" You asked, and he thought for a moment. "Do you have some salt I can use? Papa shot a..." He stopped for a moment, then looked back up to meet your eyes. "Papa shot a deer, and we ran out of salt to dry out the hide and season the meat." He asked, and you replied. "Of course! Come right in, I keep a few bags in the cupboard, I have a half-full one you can take home." You told him as you allowed him to come in and shut the door behind him.

Your bread sat warm in the window-sill, cooling down. As you handed him the salt, he pointed over to it. "Oh, do you want a piece?" He nodded aggressively, and you smiled. You grabbed the metal baking sheet and put it on the counter, slicing a few pieces. "Here, you can have more than one. I make it all the time, and it's just me here to eat it anyways." You told him. "Would you like to sit down and chat for a moment? I can make you tea or coffee too if you like? You can tell me about yourself. That is, if you don't have to be home right quick." The man nodded again, and set the salt down on the counter. "My name's Thomas. I'd like some...Peppermint tea, if you have it." The man signed to you, his guard down as he clearly felt welcomed in the household. "Okay, Thomas, right on it." You smiled warmly and handed him a thick slice of warm bread with butter and mulberry jam smeared over the top. "Take a seat, dear."

____________________________________________

~Author's Note~

Hi guys, I'm so sorry it took so long to get this second part out :( I've just been really stressed and not in a great mental place, plus the factor of writer's block and being scared to burn myself out. But thank you for those who have stayed through the hiatus to continue reading!! Please comment below if you have any character or scenario requests. Goodbye for now, loves!

384 notes · View notes

marvelsbanner · 4 years ago

Text

Help from a friend

summary: Tony and Bruce are stuck on a project- so Bruce calls up an old friend for some help. Aka Tony meeting Bruce’s pretty Doctor friend and being a shameless flirt.

pairing: Tony Stark/Iron Man x fem!reader

warnings: minor language, suggestive language, and innuendos

word count: ~1300

A/N: Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated! <3 All mistakes are my own! This is split in two parts, part 2 will have smut but feel free to stop here if you’re not comfy with that.

**i don’t own marvel** **not my gif**

Bruce and Tony had been working on a project in the lab for a week now. They hadn’t told the team- Tony was keeping it a secret because he knew they wouldn’t be okay with it but he also knew that he was doing the right thing. A suit of armor around the world- his vision, his Ultron.

They had access to all the tech that they needed, two kids in a candy shop, but it wasn’t as simple as they were originally hoping it would be. Apparently, much to Tony’s dismay, having 7 PhD’s didn’t actually make you a master at everything science related. “Then what the hell was it for, Bruce? Just to look smart, like when I wear fake glasses for interviews?”

After getting close to a breakthrough and being shut down again for what seemed like the millionth time, the two men sagged down on the floor in frustration.

“I have a friend-“ Bruce began.

“A friend? Since uh- when” Tony interrupted.

“Acquaintance. Coworker? Whatever,” he held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Doctor y/l/n. This is her speciality, she might be able to help us get somewhere with this. I’ve done a few favors for her, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind returning one.” He said, running his hands roughly over his face.

“Yeah whatever, call your lady doctor friend, i’m ordering Indian, do you want Indian?” Tony rambled, standing up and stretching his back.

“On one condition,” Bruce shot back.

Tony looked up and raised an eyebrow, “Oh? And tell me what that might be, oh green one.”

“No funny business,” Bruce said, unamused.

“Oh don’t worry, i’ve been told i’m not very funny.” he shot back.

“Yeah, I know, i’m the one who told you that. Seriously, she holds a lot of respect among that group and if I bring her here just to have you trying to get in her pants with your god-awful pickup lines i’ll never be able to live it down. So just please, please promise me? You’ll keep it professional?” he pleaded to his friend.

Tony lifted up three fingers, “Scouts honor” he said with a wink before walking out of the lab.

The following morning Tony was already up and working in the lab, blaring his AC/DC music and drinking his first of what would be many cups of coffee that day when the sound of laughter roused him from his thoughts.

He lowered his music until it was almost off, moving his head to look towards the lab entrance and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

Bruce and his Doctor friend, Doctor.. Doctor.. God he needed to pay more attention when Bruce was speaking- were walking through the door, laughing at some joke he missed.

She was gorgeous, dressed in heels that did WONDERS for legs with a button up blouse and a short skirt with her lab coat over top.

“Tony this is Doctor y/l/n. Doc, Tony.” Bruce introduced, gesturing between the two. Tony reached out to shake her hand enthusiastically, “Doc, good to have you. Wow, I wish Bruce looked as good as you did in a lab coat” he said with a wink.

Bruce shot him a look to kill while she only looked amused, “Funny, Bruce is usually the eye candy at the lab” she said, giving said doctor a teasing nudge with her elbow.

“Hah-hah. Well, go ahead and set up, Doc. We’ll show you what we’re working with so far.” Bruce said, moving aside to give her space and grabbing Tony by the elbow to drag him to the side, “Tony, you promised” he pleaded. “Well, yeah, that was before I knew she was hot so in my mind that contract is null and void” he replied, twisting out of Bruce’s grasp and waltzing over to where she was swiping through data.

“So, Doc- you’re awful young to be a Doctor, aren’t you? Seriously, you don’t look a day over 20.” He said, flashing his playboy smile.

He heard Bruce smack his hand to his forehead.

“Maybe i’m young, or maybe you’re just old” she retorted, not even looking up from the screen.

He turned to Bruce and dramatically fake swooned, mouthing “I’m in love” before turning his attention back to her and clearing his throat.

“I’m not that old I swear, the grays are just from stress.”

“The wrinkles too, I’m assuming?” She fires back with a raised brow. He heard Bruce try and fail to mask a laugh as a cough.

“Ouch, you wound me Doc. Truly, you wound me. You’re gonna send this old man into cardiac arrest. Bruce, what’s the time? I think I’m flatlining.” He called out dramatically.

“Oh god I killed Tony Stark, whatever am I to do?” She said with mock horror.

“Well, I think a suitable repayment would be allowing me to take you out to dinner.” Tony replied as Bruce groaned, slapping his forehead with his palm again.

“Wow smooth. Not even ten minutes in- I had a little more faith in you than that, Stark. Bruce, I owe you a twenty.” She said, shaking her head.

Tony whipped his head around to his friend with a scowl. “You bet on me? Oh come on Brucie that’s low, aren’t you supposed to be my best friend?”

Bruce had a smirk on his face as he replied, “I can be your best friend and acknowledge that you’re a pompous ass, sometimes. Most of the time, actually-“

“Yeah yeah I get it, I’m awful. I’m an awful friend that also let’s you sleep here, eat here, use my lab and all my tech- most of which I designed myself by the way,”

“Ladies, ladies, I hate to break up the lover’s quarrel, I really do, but I think I see where you were going wrong with the data” she interrupted, barely able to hide her amusement. The boys quickly composed themselves and went around to her side to listen to her findings. Tony spent more time staring at her moving lips and cleavage than listening to her, but he was able to get the gist of it.

9 hours. It took 9 hours for her to do what the two scientists had struggled to do for weeks. Tony didn’t know if he should feel stupid, impressed, or turned on- but he was currently a mixture of the three.

She had been incredible, she had a fiery attitude and mouth of sass that paralleled his own but she had knowledge to match Bruce. She moved with purpose, and he watched her at every opportunity he could- even earning an elbow from Bruce on two occasions for staring too long.

She helped them find where they were going wrong and helped them to recode the programs, and by the end of the night Ultron was set to start downloading and be finished within 48 hours.

“Oh don’t be too hard on yourselves, boys. Not all of us can be geniuses, some of us were just put on this Earth to look pretty.” she teased.

“Aw Brucie, did you hear that? She thinks we’re pretty.” Tony said sarcastically.

“Yeah well, she also called us idiots but you focus on whatever you please, Tony.” Bruce shook his head and turned to thank Doctor y/l/n before apologizing and excusing himself out to where Natasha and Steve were needing his help.

“So, man of iron. Tomorrow, pick me up at 7. Look nice, maybe trim some of those grays that are peaking out.” she said teasingly.

Tony had to stop himself from doing a double take. “7? And when exactly did I agree to doing anything at 7 tomorrow, doctor?” He replied, faking indifference.

“Well I still need to repay you for almost killing you with my attitude earlier. Don’t tell Bruce though, I’d never hear the end of it from him.” She grabbed her things and made her way to exit the lab when he called out “I don’t even know where you live”

“I’m sure you’ve got the tech to figure that out.” she replied, still looking straight ahead. She had reached the entranceway of the lab when she swiftly turned to say “You can pick the venue. Wear something nice.. or nothing at all. Your pick.” And with a wink, she was gone, leaving Tony gobsmacked with his jaw on the floor.

part 2

#Tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #tony stark fanfiction #Tony stark ff #iron man #iron man x reader #iron man x you #iron man x y/n #avengers x you #avengers x reader #avengers x y/n #my fics #bruce banner

273 notes · View notes

starglow-xx · 4 years ago

Text

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 4)

platonic! mori ougai x f!reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff

previous: the doctor is in the house (quite literally)

author’s note: it’s port mafia time! ages are still one year younger than canon

also!! my 100 followers event still has 7 5 4 3 2 1 spot open for requests!! go check out this post for more info!! i’d like to get the whole prompt list done early so i have time to write them! (event is now closed as of feb. 10, 2021)

another doctor? oh wait, another doctor and his daughter

as you expected, ranpo and fukuzawa have not let you go easy after what had happened a couple days prior (3 days ago to be exact)

one of them, or more often than not, the two of them would go visit the bakery at least twice a day

once in the morning right before opening, and the second time right before closing

if they could, they would visit around lunch time, but that was usually yosano

tbh you were thankful that yosano hasn’t been as overbearing as the other two but you knew she probably wanted to give you a break because holy shit are they extremely over protective

currently, it was the fourth day of being watched by the two eldest ada members, but there were no said ada members with you at the moment

and boy were you overjoyed

turns out, the ada has an important escort job for a government official or smth, and on top of that, fukuzawa has a bunch of meetings to attend

even ranpo has his hands full with a couple of difficult murder cases across the country

you’re lowkey, no highkey, worried bc you learned literally 3 days ago that ranpo doesn’t know how to ride the train 😀😀

you were worried abt them, there’s no question, but on the inside you were a bit relieved to which ranpo called you out on it immediately

that led to the two of you going at each other’s throats for nearly half an hour

let’s just say fukuzawa scolded the two fo you for a while

going back to the present, it was around one pm and you had just finished sending a text message to both fukuzawa and ranpo (cause they insisted) when a little blonde girl with blue eyes wearing a red dress matching with a red bow in her hair and red shoes walked in

she immediately went to the glass case to look at the desserts displayed

as she looked around, you watched her at the corner of your eyes and a with a smile as you wiped down one of the tables

after wiping down the table, you quickly went to go wash your hands and you walked over and stood next to her

you bent slightly and smiled bigger as she stared at one of the treats in the glass

“is that the one you want?”

she nodded without looking away from the glass

you giggled before going to the back and placing the one she wanted on the plate and held it out to her

the blonde was honestly so confused bc one, no adult supervision, and two, there was no tell tale way to know that she had money

to you, she was an open book so when she looked at you, her face immediately read “but i have no money, or a parent...??”

you simply patted her head and pushed along to one of the nearby tables and pulled a chair for her

you did not regret anything when you saw the look on her face when you told her that it was on the house

“name’s elise!” “i’m (y/n)!”

you sat with her for a while continuing to give her sweets she reminded you of ranpo in all honestly and talking abt random things

she mostly complained abt a “rintarou” though

speaking of which, when a man in a doctor’s coat came through the door near screaming “elise-chan! elise-chan!” you figured that was probably the rintarou she was complaining abt

you smiled as you watched the two interact

“elise-chan why would just disappear like that?!”

“i wanted to see rintarou cry”

“so mean!”

...their behavior was questionable but endearing ig

“rintarou” suddenly turned to you, thanking you for “taking care of his daughter bc she’s always getting into trouble”

*cue angry noises and face from elise*

he introduced himself as a “local neighborhood doctor”

you smelled bullshit but didn’t say anything bc he has been kind to you so far

he asked you how he could repay you and you were thinking that you can actually win something bc you’re not refusing an ada member oh you poor oblivious child but you were appalled when elise answered for you

it went like this

“is there anything i can repay you with for taking care of my dear elise-chan? perhaps paying for all the sweets she has eaten?”

“oh no! don’t worry abt that, it’s nothing! it was a pleasure getting to know—”

“let’s buy out all of her food!”

h u h

you knew she enjoyed your pastries and stuff but like w h a t

you inwardly sigh in relief when the doctor agreed with you that “that’s a bit much elise-chan” and you were thanking every deity out there when suddenly

she threw a temper tantrum

you watched in confusion and slight horror at the 180 of the sweet little girl you were talking to like 10 minutes ago

her guardian panicked slightly and tried to get her to calm down but ahaha no that didn’t happen

“WAHH rintarou!! but i want it!! (y/n)’s food is the best i’ve ever had!!”

“b-but elise-chan, we can’t just buy—”

“i’ll wear all the dresses i’ve ever rejected and more if we buy it out right now and keep buying sweets here forever”

“...deal”

your eyes twitch at the “innocent” smiles the two gave you after their “talk”

fast forward literally 5 minutes and you’ve already flipped the close sign on your door with note (saying you’re sold out) and you’re all over the place running around behind the counter trying to fit everything into boxes as the two are sitting on a nearby table lightly chatting

about 20-25, nearly 30 minutes later you finishing packing everything in the glass case

it was a lot

we’re literally talking about tiered cakes and dozens of batches of cookies, cupcakes, literally everything and anything

when the two notice you’re done they get up meet you by the register

“a-ano, you really don’t have to buy all of this...the total is going to be quite large...”

“no worries!”

honestly at this point, you kind of missed the chaotic calls from ranpo that happened like every half hour

you thought you were done being surprised for the day but next thing you know men in suits come into Sakura’s and begin to load the boxes into a black car

dealing with the detectives was already starting to be a handful and now you have to deal whoever the hell these two people where

quite frankly, you were having trouble wrapping your head around all of this

like-

who buys out a whole bakery?!

and who has the money to buy out a whole bakery?!

what kind of job could you possibly have?!

was this guy really just a doctor?!

right before the two leave you call out to them

“a-ah wait! i don’t think i ever caught your name!”

the two blink at you before eyeing each other

“mori ougai” 😄😄

you started smelling bad shits again

>:/

it was a weird feeling

you felt something off but at the same time, you weren’t really afraid

and with that the two left

you were already tired from this whole thing but you now get the rest of the day off

so i guess something worked out in your favor

until the next fricking day

again, ranpo and fukuzawa canceled out on you

you weren’t sure if you were relieved or not

and as soon as you thought you were going to have a normal business day, guess who walked through the doors

yeah that’s right

“the local neighborhood doctor” and his daughter

you froze before eyeing them with suspicion

if mori was amused, he didn’t show it, only giving you a smile

elise immediately left his side and practically leaped onto you making you cut yourself with the knife you were holding

well shit now you’re bleeding

it was only 7:15 in the morning; you had literally just opened

you were cursing every deity out there

you quickly grab a nearby and press it against your wound and scrambled around looking for the first aid kit you had nearby

“oh? (y/n)-kun are you bleeding?”

“(y/n) i’m sorry!”

“a-ah, no worries elise-chan”

you really need to stop spacing out bc next thing you know, the sign on your door is flipped to close again (along with the same note from yesterday explaining you’re sold out taped on the door) and you’re sitting at a table with elise in your lap and mori wrapping your hand in a bandage

“tsk tsk (y/n)-kun you need to be more careful...but it is elise-chan’s fault”

“die rintarou!”

“but no worries! it’s not that deep so you don’t need stitches”

“thank you, mori-san, but can i ask why you and elise-chan are here again? not that i mind...”

whether or not you were lying is up to you

“oh we’re here to buy out your stock again!”

“wait what-”

the fuck???

did they not just buy everything yesterday???

frozen, you stare at the man in front if you with said man giving you another “innocent” smile

this little shit

wait till you meet dazai

but i guess that’s why the sign on the door is flipped to close bc you don’t even remember flipping it yourself or taping the note from yesterday to the door

you spent the next half hour trying to convince the two over some tea (your signature one of course) that “no you don’t need to or should buy everything i have, you’re going to deprive the rest of my customers”

cough cough ranpo

like the day before, you were losing this argument

can you just never win?

as you were losing the argument (obviously) you realized that you don’t even know why they want to buy everything again

“mori-san, why do the two of you even want to buy everything in the first place?”

“ah it was elise-chan’s request of course! but i do admit, after trying some of your sweets myself, i grew quite attached! so did the rest of my subordinates after my precious elise-chan made them try it, not like they could refuse her or me; i am their boss after all (y/n)-kun.”

*cue confusion*

“subordinates? wait are those the guys from yesterday?? aren’t you a doctor...?”

“ah ex-doctor actually, i’m the leader of the port mafia”

...

“ah (y/n)-kun that’s quite the coughing fit you have going on, do you need water?”

if it wasn’t obvious, you choked on your tea and had quite the coughing fit; you were wheezing and everything making elise leave you lap and settling for dangling over mori’s shoulders

“...you’re kidding”

“im afraid im not”

this man confuses the hell out of you??

like-

w h y would he just say that, to you of all people

but it explains the bad shits you were smelling/feeling yesterday

“are you afraid?”

“being completely honest with you, mori-san, not really”

“and why is that?”

you simply shrug not really knowing the answer

you aren’t lying, you just aren’t

maybe bc yesterday, he seemed more like a doting parent than the boss of the most criminal organization of yokohama

yes, you’ve heard the rumors, obviously, but just saying, if the port mafia wanted to hurt you, you’d probably be dead in a ditch by now

and they haven’t really been a bother to you, they were more like background characters in your life

well

until yesterday of course

mori simply raises an eyebrow and a smile seemingly okay with your very vague answer

“why did you tell me that mori-san?”

the man only smiles a bit wider at you and this time, you’re the one raising an eyebrow

“just a feeling”

yeah you were starting to smell bad shits again

“and besides! elise-chan seems quite fond of you (y/n)-kun! i wasn’t planning on doing anything to you in the first place, but even if i wanted to, i don’t think i could! i wouldn’t want to upset my dearest cute elise-chan”

“die rintarou!”

“that’s mean elise-chan!”

your eyes began to twitch in slight annoyance

cause istg the duality of this man—

this strange strange man

oh dearest you haven’t even met dazai yet

after that has been said and done, somehow you found yourself in front of stores being dragged by elise

how did you end up there you ask? i don’t know either so there’s nothing we can do abt that

eventually, you found yourself holding a bunch of shopping bags full of dresses and clothes of the sort

some of it your size and the others elise’s

...

“mori-san?”

“yes (y/n)-kun?”

“why do i have bags of clothing that are fit for me rather than elise?”

“oh that’s because elise refused to go without you and if you didn’t get anything!”

yeah

that makes perfect sense, of course

you could see why elise kept on complaining abt this guy

the two of you actually bonded over making fun of him

you have n o fear

actually, maybe just a little

the three of you were out for basically the entire day and you were exhausted

cause holy shit there was a lot of money wasted, shopping bags obtained, and walking involved

it was around 5 pm when the three of you were making it back to Sakura’s

along the way you found yourself having a pleasant conversation with mori

even if he was a questionable person to be having a pleasant conversation with, you enjoyed it nonetheless

you hoped that it makes it harder to get rid of you if he ever changed his mind but we don’t talk abt that

anywho

when the three of you arrived, you immediately dumped all the bags you were holding and went straight to work packaging everything for “the local neighborhood doctor”

before they left, mori agreed to not buy out all of your stock except for some occasions but instead settled ordering massive batches of a little bit of everything every few days

how that’s not the same as buying everything you won’t ever know

you were standing outside Sakura’s watching the two get into the car that had arrived when suddenly, mori turned to you

“ah (y/n)-kun, i know that you wouldn’t tell anyone about this, it wouldn’t be like you to, but just a reminder, it would probably be in your best interest not to let anything slip to anyone okay? we wouldn’t want any enemies using you against the port mafia. so take care of yourself hm? see you next time”

and bippity boppity boo just like that, they were gone

how that man managed to get your personality down in just like 10 hours you don’t want to know

and that’s basically the story of how you started making more food/bake goods to sell

true to his word, every few days, or sometimes consecutive days, mori called you and made a large order

and i mean large

on those days, someone from the port mafia would pick it up and then you get paid

thankfully, by increasing the amount of food you made, you always had enough to put out on display and to sell even after the large order

before doing that, on those days you didn’t have a large stock, someone by the name of edogawa ranpo would weep at your feet

he will deny this; after all, great detectives don’t do weeping

or so he says

and speaking of the detective, you never did tell him what had transpired the two days he and fukuzawa were absent on checking on you

but tbh, i even think ranpo could’ve deduct this one

you didn’t tell him bc you were afraid, no of course not that’s ridiculous mori, in elise’s words, was a loser

you didn’t tell him bc you knew he and fukuzawa would flip the fuck out

and that would be a major inconvenience to you

you didn’t see the point in telling them anyway

so whatever, it’s like it’ll be important

and if ranpo and fukuzawa noticed the abundant of bags near the door leading up to the staircase when they visited you at the end of the day they didn’t say anything

of course one of them said smth

“ne (n/n)-chan since when did you like to buy a bunch of things; waste of money if you could just be using that money to make more food so you wouldn’t sell out right away and have food to feed me”

your eyes twitched

he could’ve worded that a little better but whatever

it is ranpo-san after all

“i just got carried away since i closed up early; you know it isn’t often i get to go shopping”

and if he smelled your bullshit he didn’t say anything

for real this time

that slightly concerns you ngl

anyways

let’s just say quite a few heads were turned when they saw their boss leading a bunch of lower level subordinates carrying many light pink boxes of different sizes to his office for the second time

oh and just another thing

*whispers* he was lying when elise made his other subordinates eat your food; they kept it all to themselves”

was that a ruse to help lead the revelation of his real occupation who knows

“(y/n)-kun is a very interesting person don’t you think so elise-chan?”

“quiet. i’m eating cake.”

“that’s so mean elise-chan!”

<<previous // next >>

announcement!! (event is now closed as of feb. 10, 2021) please take the time to check out the event for 100 followers! there are still 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 spot left and i would like to get those filled as soon as possible! thanks in advance! love you all and stay safe!

taglist: @akaashiro @nothinkonlyvolleyboys @kyoichiii @linthebinbag @Sras_isDoing_Something @hopeiskool @kyoumisstuff @realitycanbeajerk @juniymous @kozucafe @theother-victoria @classisass @hxsxxk-180294 @northsideprincess @tunakitty @fashionablyfailing12 @hanniejji @timeless-tales46

to join the tag list, please fill out this google form i made!!

italicized means it wouldn’t let me tag you

397 notes · View notes

axwalker · 3 years ago

Text

CREEP 3: You're just like an angel

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

Synopsis: Drake is a hurt, angry teenager. After being rejected by Lexie, he spends two years bullying her until he discovers the horrible truth behind her rejection.

MASTERLIST HERE

In this chapter: Lexie gets to know more about the boy hiding behind the monster.

A/N: This is Lexie’s POV. We’ll be in Drake’s head in the following chapter.

A/N 2: Thank you to my beautiful prereader @burnsoslow

Your suggestions made all the difference! LOVE YOUU ❤️

A/N 3: Thank you to @mskaneko for the edit that closes this fic. It’s gorgeous! I love youu ❤️

Words: 5,108 🙈

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love, abuse, bullying.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express love.

This is a dark love story. If you think this might trigger you, PLEASE do not read it.

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS --As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapters. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic; please do not hesitate to ask!!

LEXIE

Watching Drake put my duffel bag on the back of his motorcycle, my pulse is getting out of control on my neck. This is happening. I’m leaving home. I’m getting out, and I’m never coming back. And Drake Walker, my tormentor, is helping me. He actually defended me. The fact that I’m being helped by the person who called me a future trophy wife this morning makes this moment even more surreal. He’s had this tormented expression on his face for the last half an hour that’s stupidly making me want to hug him or make him feel better. For what, though? I don’t know. I don’t owe him anything, and still, I have this pressing need to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him everything will be okay.

When it comes to Drake, my emotions have never been truly logical. One second I hate him, and the next, I’m whispering his name in the darkness of my room, my fingers sawing against the wet cotton of my panties. My feelings for him are incredibly confusing…but I know asking him to back off was the right move. Even if I secretly miss his presence everywhere I turn. In my unstable world, there was something comforting about knowing he would always be there. Watching me. Hating me. Wanting me. That last part was never in doubt. He’s made that clear many times. That if I wanted, he would “give me a nice long hate-fuck in the back of his trailer.” And he’d always say, “No one has to know, baby,” in that deep, hoarse tone that keeps me up at night. Makes me shove my fingers down the front of my panties and struggle to breathe, sweating through my covers to an orgasm. I’m having those particularly sexual thoughts when he looks over at me, and I don’t quite manage to hide my lust. His movements slow, a dark eyebrow arching as he fixes on my mouth, my breasts. I’m a real hot mess right now. Beaten and bloody, but there’s no denying he’s still attracted. It’s always there in the rise and fall of his chest, the clicking of his jaw. The tenting of his jeans. How many times have I turned in class and—avoiding his gaze—locked eyes with his jeans instead? At least that’s one thing us poor fuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck.

Well, if I thought sympathy was a strange emotion regarding this boy, jealousy is even more confusing. Why should I care that he’s been with other girls? Obviously, he must have been with hundreds of girls to get good at sex. It’s none of my business, is it? I’m almost rid of him. And I don’t want to be jealous. Still, when he holds out his hand to help me onto the bike, I ignore it with a raise of my chin and climb on myself. You’re almost rid of him, Lexie. Get a ride and say goodbye. Unfortunately, I may have been a little overenthusiastic in asking to be taken to a motel. I’ve never been to one, but I know a credit card is required—and I don’t have one of those. Nor do I have enough cash in my wallet for more than one night. I need to figure out an alternative plan fast. Still looking damned tortured, Drake places his helmet on my head and gently buckles the chinstrap. Swallowing loud enough to hear over the passing cars. Helmetless, he brings the engine to life, the vibration so exhilarating; I wrap my arms around his middle on reflex.

I can feel taking a deep breath. “Lexie…” He can’t see me, so I give in to the impulse to press my cheek to his leather jacket, absorbing the warmth and his smell, earthy and so masculine.

“Yes?” Drake clears his throat, his voice even more profound. “My dad left me a cabin a few towns over. Near Portavira lake.” He pauses. “It’s very rustic, but I’ve been fixing it, so it’s clean, and it has a bed and some supplies. I could take you there. You’d be safe.”

It’s dangerous to start accepting more favors from him, but what choice do I have? My father made sure that I’m helpless. He did it with my mother and now me. Isolated us from everyone who might be a friend. I’ll accept his offer, but only because here and now, I promise myself I’ll find a way to help myself in the future. To leave my father and his house of horrors in the past. Maybe it can’t be done entirely alone. Maybe accepting help is the only option. That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting the way he treated me. Yes, I’m attracted to him but I also hate him. He’s made my life miserable for two years and I won’t let him --or myself, forget that. Maybe he’s hiding right now but I know Drake--as my father, has a monster underneath. His monster might not slap me or make me bleed but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. Poisonous words can hurt as much as one well-delivered blow.

“Okay,” I say, feeling him relax. “Thanks.” I’ll accept his help for now and leave as soon as I can.

He responds by turning on the engine of the bike again. That’s when I hear my father yelling my name from the back door of the house. His hands are tied behind his back, and he’s limping, blood coming out his nose.

“Alexis Jade O’Brien! You get your ass back here right now, or you’ll never be allowed back! You’ll be dead to me!”

He has to be joking; he’s been dead to me since the first time he hit me. I look back at the pathetic old man with every ounce of rebellion I have. Baring my teeth, I give him the middle finger and dismiss him. Forever.

“Good girl,” Drake murmurs a second before driving away. I don’t look back a single time. We drive for half an hour. After twenty minutes on the highway, the trees grow denser and denser, the road deserted. We don’t pass a single car on the way to the cabin, which comforts me when I should be worried. Shouldn’t I? I can’t allow the last two years of em2otional battle to mean nothing. To melt away in the face of tonight’s act of kindness. I meant what I said. I need Drake to leave me alone. To release the hold he has on me. I’ve cut one negative force out of my life tonight. The last thing I need is a replacement. But as I grow tired against his strong back, his woody and manly scent lulling me, encouraging the trust he doesn’t deserve, I worry leaving him might be easier said than done. Especially when we arrive at the cabin, and he lifts me off the bike, cradling me to his chest like I’m made of crystal, a moment too long before settling me onto my feet. It’s hard giving up his warmth, but I push off his chest, creating distance between us. He watches me back away like I’m breaking his heart.

“There is a shower inside,” he says quietly. “You can finally get the, uh…” He blows a breath. “…the blood off.” The sun sets as we stand there. It’s nothing like the light of the night we kissed. This time it's brighter, more intense. It must be the higher elevation.

“You’re not hurting anywhere else?”

“I’ll be fine.” Why is he breathing so fast? “What’s wrong, Drake?”

“What’s wrong?” He fights through a humorless laugh, sliding his hand through his hair. “Where do I start? Most urgent is…I know you’re going to want me to leave you here alone, and I don’t think I can. Look, if you want to lock the doors, I’ll sleep outside on the ground, Lexie, but please don’t ask me to go.”

He’s right. I was going to tell him it’s OK to go back to his trailer. There was a convenience store with a payphone a mile down the road. If there is no working phone in the cabin, I can still make calls, if necessary. I’m not sure what my next move will be, now that I’ve run away from home. But I know I’ll never be able to think with a clear head as long as Drake is around, looking at me like that. “Drake…”

“It’s just that once I leave, I know that’s it. You’re going to shut me out again. And this time, it’ll be your choice.” He paces away, still raking his fingers through his hair. “I deserve to be cut off. Fuck, I know that. Believe me when I say I hate myself right now, but if there was something I could do to make up the last two years to you, even just a little—”

I shake my head. Nothing can make up for the two years I spent loving him while he tortured me. There will be nothing between us.

“I understand.” His fingers rake his hair one last time. “You can go in the cabin. I’ll sleep outside; that way, I’ll be sure your—father won’t be back.”

Despite myself and my better judgment, I worry about him. “Outside? It’s cold and dark; I can go to a motel.” At least for one night, I’ll figure out what I’ll do after tomorrow.

“No way. Look, I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Just go inside and try to rest; I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”

Used to what? Sleeping outside? “Isn’t there a couch or something?”

He shakes his head. “The cabin was in ruins until six months ago when I started working on it. There’s only one bed, but there’s a rug next to the fireplace. Please don’t leave. I—I need to know you’re safe.”

I know Drake would never abuse me physically. I might be naïve, but I just know he would never do it. And as much as it’s difficult for me to understand why I feel safe with him here. Still, I have to be smart, my instincts tell me to trust him, but my instincts have been wrong about him before.

“Does the room lock?”

“It does with a bolt that can’t be opened from outside. But you’re safe with me, Lexie. I swear.”

It’s his miserable look that makes me decide. “Okay, if it locks, I can stay here.”

We go inside, and he leads me to his room. When my bag hits the floor next to his bed, I get even more nervous. I just left everything I know behind me and have no idea what’s coming next. School will be over in a few weeks, but I can graduate earlier, thanks to my credits. I’ll need a job, save some money, get an apartment and apply for college in Cordonia. It’s overwhelming.

I don’t want to cry in front of Drake. I don’t want to show him I feel weak, sad, and pathetic, but something inside of me suddenly breaks, and before I can’t do anything to stop it, I’m sobbing.

Drake is sitting on the bed in a second, and he’s pulling me into his lap, trying to calm me down. “Shh Lexie, it’s okay. Cry all you need to. I’m here. It’s okay,” he repeats in a litany as he rubs my shoulders, kisses my cheek, then my nose. Why do I feel so safe with him? Why, after everything he put me through, do I want to be here with him more than anywhere else?

“Let it all out, Lex. You’re so strong, baby.” He takes a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and uses it to gently clean my tears. The piece of fabric seems so incongruous in his rough hands that I can’t help but smile a little.

“Is this yours?”

He shrugs. “My dad collected them. After he died, my mom gave all his stuff away. This handkerchief is the only thing I have left of him. And this cabin.”

“I’m sorry, Drake. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He smiles. “Ruin it? Impossible. If anything, now it's even more special to me.”

The softness in his eyes looks so sincere it scares the hell out of me. I can’t let myself forget who Drake really is. I stand up from his lap and put my bag on the bed.

“I’m really tired; I’d better go to bed.”

“Okay … can I just look at your wounds?” he asks as he inspects my face. “You have some nasty cuts,” he adds, his fist clenching.

When I nod, he takes my hand and leads me to his bathroom. The room is as simple and modest as expected. Block walls, no tiles on the floor, no curtain on the shower, and an old toilet. A million years away from the white marble bathrooms in my house.

He follows my gaze and blushes. “I’m sorry. This is not what you’re used to. I—uhm, I’m slowly putting it together when I have time and some money. I’m good with my hands.” I look at said hands, and there’s no doubt he’s good with them. They look big and calloused. Capable and rough but so gentle with me. I want them all around my body. As if he had listened to my silent demand, he grabs me by my waist and sits me on the counter next to the sink. My legs part on instinct, and he puts himself between them. We don’t talk for two long minutes until he opens the faucet and wets a towel.

“I just got the water running this week; Come on.” Gently --almost reverently, he washes and cleans every cut, every injury. Softly he brushes his thumbs over my face. He doesn’t speak as he does, but there’s a tension between us. A raw feeling that has always been there.

“Tell me about yourself,” I blurt out, desperate to break the moment.

“There’s not much to say. Sorry, Lexie!” he exclaims when I wince. “Does this hurt?”

“A little. I. need a distraction. Why do you live alone? I know your dad is –uhm, gone, but where’s your mom?”

“Gone too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Drake.”

“Don’t be. She was a bitch. She died in a car accident two years ago. She was living in Texas back then.”

“I don’t get it. Two years ago, you were here in Cordonia.”

“Yeah, she left me after my dad died. Took my sister and left me here. Reminded her too much of my dad, she said.”

I remember Jackson Walker. Everyone in Portavira does. He was Liam’s dad's bodyguard and died protecting him. But that was five years ago. If his mom left just after his passing, that means Drake has been living by himself since he’s thirteen years old. It can’t be.

Drake turns around and opens a box in the corner of the room. When he turns back, he’s holding a Band-Aid.

“I keep these around. Construction can get nasty sometimes. Come here, Lex.” He cups my chin with one of his big hands while he cleans a cut next to my eyebrow. His touch is leaving goosebumps all over my skin. I hate to be this affected by him.

I clear my throat to avoid the embarrassment of talking in a squeaky voice. “So, who were you living with?”

“No one. My aunt got custody when my mom left, but her husband didn’t want kids. He made her choose between him or me, so I’ve been living on my own since I’m thirteen.” My heart breaks then. Not only at the fact that he had to live by himself when he was still a child, but at the way he says it. Matter-of-factly. As if it was the most normal thing in the world that his mother, his aunt, and his uncle abandoned him. As horrible as my dad is, I’ve never had to fend for myself. And my mom loved me so much. If cancer hadn’t taken her away, she’d be here fighting for me. Drake has no one. I can’t help the tears glistening in my eyes. “Hey! Don’t cry, Lexie,” his thumb moves from my eyebrow to my cheek as he wipes the tears off my face. ”I prefer to live by myself than go to a foster house. And Leona checks on me now and then.”

“If your mom died, where’s your sister?”

He takes a deep breath but doesn’t pronounce a single word for a few minutes. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Savvy was with my mom in the car. She died too.”

I want to say something. Anything. But I can’t. Nothing seems like enough. Sorry is such an empty word—a stupid cliché. I’m horrified at my own muteness, so I do the only thing I can think of. I hug him. At first, he just stands there, his arms hanging at his sides. But soon, I can feel him giving in, his heart beating hard against my chest. He encircles his arms around me, wrapping me in the tightest hug possible. I don’t know who’s comforting whom anymore. I only know that I love being here, and I hope it’s giving him a little solace, this hug.

It doesn’t mean I’ll forgive or even forget what he put me through, but no one deserves to go through that kind of pain alone.

“I’ll be outside, Lexie,” he says when he finally lets me go. “If you need anything, anything at all, just call for me, okay?”

“Wait!’ I yell, so he turns around. “Are you really going to sleep on the floor?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he hesitates as if he’s going to add something important. “Good night, Lexie.”

“Wait,” I feel my cheeks redden just thinking about what I’m about to propose. “You can sleep here, I-I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Never,” he says, a determined look on his face. “I would never hurt you that way, and you have no idea how much I regret how I’ve treated you in the past. But I’ll be okay sleeping outside. I know you’ll feel better sleeping here by yourself.”

I can’t deny that. I meant what I said about trusting him not to hurt me, but I can’t forget what he did either. “At least take this pillow and the blanket. I’ll manage with the pillow and the cover left.” He hesitates, so I insist. “Please. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”

After taking them and giving me one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, he closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in the room. I lie on his bed, incapable of sleeping. The pain in his eyes when he told me about his little sister haunts me all night long.

The following day I toss around in bed, confused and angry at myself. I can’t have feelings for Drake Walker. I can’t forget the insults or the anger in his eyes, the hurt that his words caused me every -single time. I just can’t. I hate what happened to him. I genuinely do, but iI have to think about myself. Denying that I’m attracted to him would be preposterous. Our chemistry is strong and undeniable, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Maybe that’s it. Perhaps I just need one night with him, so I can move on with my life. Get him out of my system.

When I finally leave the bed, I find a note under my door: Went to buy some groceries, be back soon. DW

I go to the room where I assume he’s going to build the kitchen. For now, there’s only a more-than-a-few-years-old microwave and a cooler. I open the cabinets, but there’s barely anything there.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. I feel my heart slamming in my chest; if it’s my father, I have no means of defending myself. I’m about to escape through the back door when a woman’s voice starts yelling.

“Open up, Drake. I’m not in the mood today.”

I open the door because the voice sounds familiar. I recognize Leona, the principal’s assistant. And I know she’s related to Drake.

Leona arches an eyebrow when she sees me. “Ms. O’Brien, what on earth are you in my nephew’s cabin? Does your father even know where you are?”

“I’m 18. I don’t have to tell my father where I am.” I answer in a much bolder tone than I feel.

She shrugs, clearly uninterested. “Well, I brought this to my nephew. Tell him I want those signed by next week. We’re not going to lose thousands of euros because of some dumb nostalgia.”

She hands me a big manila folder, I take it, but she doesn’t let go. “Maybe you’re the one who can convince him.”

“Convince him about what?”

“His father Jackson left him this piece of land, but it isn’t worth a dime without cattle or money to invest in it. But, a couple of months ago a big company approached us, they wanted to build a landfill here. Drake refuses to sell. He thinks he’s going to honor his dead father by rebuilding this old piece of crap, but he will never have the money to do it.”

“Never.” The deep voice that comes from the entrance startles us both. “This was my dad’s dream. He wanted a ranch, and one day this place will be one,” Drake says, “I told you already, Leona. I won’t sell; I don’t care how much they’re offering you to convince me.”

“I’ve never denied that they’re offering me a commission for the sale, Drake. But I still think it’s the best move for you.” Leona leaves the papers on the table, turns and leaves the cabin.

“You love this land?” I’m genuinely curious.

He slowly nods. “It’s all I have left of my dad. He’s the only person that ever gave two damns about me.”

“That says more about your family than about you, Drake.”

He looks directly at me. His gaze doesn’t leave mine for a long minute. I want to get closer to him, to touch him. Not only to offer some comfort but because my body reacts to him in the wildest way. Just standing next to him in the kitchen, I feel my heart beating faster, my hands trembling harder, my sex getting wetter. The response he gets from me is maddening. And it’s making me insane. There’s no freaking way in hell; I’m going to have feelings for Drake Walker.

“I- I need to take a shower. I’ll eat later.” Without giving him any time to respond, I run to the bathroom and shut the door. I open the shower and get inside, desperate for some release, anything that’ll take my mind off him. His stupid perfect smirk and deep eyes. That voice of his, intense, soft, and deep at the same time. Those big hands, calloused and capable. Hands that I just know would know precisely how to touch me. Before I realize it, I’m coming as quietly as I can. Sadly, my relief only lasts a few minutes, my body needs him --Drake Walker, and no substitute would do.

When I come out, he’s waiting for me with a hot cup of coffee and a couple of white chocolate-strawberry muffins---my favorite kind.

We eat in silence, but I don’t feel the weight of it as I usually do. Ours is a companionable silence.

After breakfast, we decide to take a hike next to the lake. A bit of exercise and the lake’s breathtaking landscape might be exactly what I need to stop thinking about my father and the confusing feelings I have for Drake.

“I think I need a job. Do you know how I can get one?” I hate that I’m so spoiled, but I’ve never lifted a finger in my life. I have no idea how I can get a job.

“Uhm sure. Here in Portavira?”

“Actually, I was thinking of moving to Cordonia city after graduation. “Drake stops walking for a second. “It’s too late to enroll for next semester, but I can get a job and start college next year.”

He finally starts walking again and nods slowly. “What do you want to do?”

I blush. My dreams don’t include being famous or rich. All I want is a good, quiet life. Falling in love, having a family. Doing a job I’d enjoy and traveling as much as possible -even if it’s on a low budget. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

Drake looks at me. “I swear I won’t, Lexie. There’s nothing you can say that I’ll find dumb. It’s just not possible.”

“I love books. They offer you new worlds. They allow you to escape and be someone else for a few pages. You can never be alone when you’re reading a book. I’d love to have a job where I would be surrounded by books. Maybe become a librarian and then open a bookstore one day.”

Drake nods but doesn’t reply. I knew he would find my dream stupid.

“I know it’s not much-“

He stands in front of me and tilts my chin until our eyes meet. “It’s amazing, Lexie. I was just thinking how great you’d be at it. Remember the top 5 assignment for Mr. Daniels?”

Of course, I do. Mr. Daniels, our English teacher, asked us to make a list of our five favorite books and recommend them to the class.

I nod. “Yeah”

“Well, I read all the books on your list. I checked them out of the school’s library and fuck, I loved them all. Especially the one from that Krakauer guy.”

“Into the Wild?”

“Yep. I really enjoyed it. The way that guy Christopher reinvented himself spoke to me.” He holds my gaze. “You’d be an awesome librarian, Lex. You would also be an amazing writer. I remember that short story you wrote for Mr. Daniel’s class. The one about the lonely girl and how she traveled through time with her mind. You have no idea how much I loved it.”

I can’t believe he remembers that story. We had that assignment more than a year ago. “I’ve always wanted to write, but my dad thinks my stories aren’t good enough.”

“Your father is a dick. Your stories are amazing.”

He looks at me in a way that makes my knees weak. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, so I feel it again. The connection with him. The desire. Maybe the only way this would go away is if I give in to it.

“There is something you can do for me,” I say, surprising myself. As soon as those two words are out of my mouth, though, I know there is something I need from Drake.

And he’s the only one who can give it to me. “Get you out of my system.”

He stands still as a statue. “What?”

“Get yourself out of my system.” It starts to rain, and it makes me speak louder, feel bolder and freer. “For two years, you provoked me, insulted me, stalked me, bullied me…” He makes a frantic sound, his eyes slamming shut. “And yet, I still—I still can’t stop thinking of your hands that night in my garden. How big and warm and rough they were. I can’t stop imagining you taking off my clothes. Even the ugliest things you’ve said to me, I imagine you saying them in my ear while you…while we…”

Drake falls toward me a step, clutching the center of his chest. “Lexie—”

“Please, get yourself out of my head. One night together. Okay, Drake? So I can get on with my life knowing fantasy was way better than reality. That I built up some unrealistic idea of what we’d be like together that we can’t possibly live up to.” My throat closes. “Get me on the road to forgetting you. Please.” As we walk, I can see the mixture of devastation and hope in his eyes.

“And what if reality lives up to the fantasy?”

“It won’t,” I say fast, with conviction. It couldn’t possibly live up to it. And yet I suck in a nervous breath when he crosses the divide between us, every cell in my body craving him. Fight or flight. In a matter of moments, he’s gone from wounded animal to determined predator, the rain causing his dark hair to hang low over one eye, dripping, his hands ready at his sides.

“Are you so sure, Lexie?”

Damn my hesitation. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll prove me right in one night. I can move forward without feeling like I’m leaving something behind.”

“What if your fantasies come true tonight? Could we ever move forward as…as an us?”

I can’t believe what he’s suggesting. “There can never be an us, Drake. Not after everything that’s happened. I’ll never change my mind about that.” I shake my head. “How can you think I would?”

“Maybe I think if I want it hard enough, it’ll come true.”

“It won’t,” I whisper, starting to ask myself if I’m making a mistake. Opening myself up for even more heartache and pinning for this man than I’ve already lived through. It feels like a lifetime’s worth. “One n-night.”

“No backing out from this point on?” My heart beats urgently.

“No backing out.”

He’s silent so long; I’m not sure he’s going to respond. And then, all at once, he reaches me in two strides and scoops me up into his arms. I realize he’s going to bring me into the cabin, “I’ve been studying you for years, Lexie O’Brien. I’ve been hanging on to your every sigh, every expression, and mood. Years. If you don’t think I’ve obsessed weeks of my life away over how you’d like to be fucked, baby, you’re sorely mistaken.” We reach the house in a matter of minutes, and he doesn’t stop; he just keeps going until we’re in his room. And oh God, I have made a severe miscalculation. Because Drake’s showing me exactly what’s always been in my heart and mind when I thought of us together, it’s my fantasy come to life, the two of us wrapped in the arms of the other. And as he turns me, urging my legs around his waist, his ravenous mouth bearing down on mine, I realize I might never recover from this.

#axwalker writes #tw abuse #tw toxic love #tw violence

71 notes · View notes

samstree · 3 years ago

Text

Hug a Witcher Day (3/4)

In which Jaskier goes missing in the spring. Can Geralt finally realize his feelings for the bard in the middle of a crisis?

(hurt/comfort, soft geraskier, 3k, rated T, cw: mentions of a canon-era plague, sick children, and a citywide lockdown.)

part 1, part 2, read on AO3

The third year since Jaskier invented Hug a Witcher Day, Geralt all but forgets about it completely.

He steps into the Two Weatherfish, where they agreed to meet, and realizes that the bard isn’t here. Or in the entire city of Ard Carraigh. No one has seen any trace of the famous bard who won’t quit singing praises for witchers.

Geralt pushes down the slight panic in his chest as he steps out of the last tavern in the city, and decides to just head for Oxenfurt.

It’s not like Jaskier has been the most reliable companion in the past, often distracted by dalliances or even anything shiny and new. One time he wandered off to watch a local celebration and Geralt found him hours later next to a lake, with thousands of lanterns floating above the water, illuminating the night sky like burning stars peppered on a dark canvas.

The soft, orange light spilled over Jaskier’s features, his eyes gleaming like the stars too.

Geralt snorts despite himself. There’s no doubt the bard is just delayed by someone who caught his eye and decided that a promise to a witcher isn’t all that important—the same witcher who he keeps claiming to be his best friend.

Geralt isn’t sure how to feel about that, or how to react when he finally sees Jaskier. Perhaps he will cease to talk about hunts for a while, leave the bard hanging, just so he can get a taste of the same frustration.

The pettiness remains in Geralt’s mind up until he steps into the academy and rampant fear licks up his chest.

Essi is the one who meets him at the gates, worry deep between her brows and rambling about how Jaskier never made it to the yule ball like he should. In her hands are two letters, clearly Jaskier’s handiwork judging from the neat curves and flourish, talking about his excitement to see his ‘Little Eye’ perform again, and how unfortunately his travel would be delayed due to an unexpected ailment.

Don’t you fret, poppet, for I am sure to beat this sickness within days. The promise of listening to your new ballad is already doing wonders for my health! It is a shame that my stay in Vizima is soured thus. The city, so beautifully rich in culture…

“Vizima,” Essi says frantically. “A plague broke out in the city last winter. Smallpox.”

A buzz begins to ring by Geralt’s ear, muffling out Essi’s voice and leaving only the thundering of his own heartbeat.

“They told me King Foltest sealed the gate to stop the spread, and…and no one has heard from anyone inside since then. Geralt, please, you are a witcher. Aren’t you immune to human sickness? That’s what Jaskier told me, isn’t that right?”

“I…yes.” The lump in Geralt’s throat stops any other words from getting out. His blood runs cold in the warm breeze of Oxenfurt’s spring.

“Please, Geralt, you must find him. I need to know. The university won’t allow me to go, but I…I must know. No matter what happened to him.”

The implication hangs in the air.

Tears well up in blues eyes too similar to Jaskier’s. Essi would be my sister in another life, Jaskier once commented adoringly and it’s only standing right here that Geralt can truly see the identical fierceness in her eyes.

As if Geralt needs her to ask. As if he isn’t willing to charge into the land of the dead if it means Jaskier gets out of it unscathed.

“Of course, Essi,” he promises solemnly. Her clutch on his forearm is so tight that any other man would be bruised by the force. “I promise.”

“Keep him safe, if it’s not too late.”

In his near-century long life, Geralt has rarely felt cold, unrelenting fear as he does when Essi breaks into sobs.

The sickness in Vizima casts a gloomy cloud over the sky, choking Geralt’s breaths. The streets are eerily empty. Only a few people will pass through in a frenzy every now and then.

Geralt’s legs take him right through the main streets, to the far corner of the city, where countless makeshift tents are set up and stretching towards the edge of the woods. If anyone has indeed fallen to the disease, that’s the most likely place they will be sent to. If anyone passes, that’s also where they keep the records so friends and families can look for their names.

Bile rises in his throat at the idea of looking through stacks of books for Jaskier’s name.

Geralt walks between hundreds of beds of one tent after another. Some healers throw him an odd look but carry on with their work, the flash of their white scrubs weaving through the busy establishment.

Against all odds, a pang of relief hits Geralt when he notices how the patients are well-treated by healers who seem to know what they are doing. The fever is brought down with a soaked cloth and a minty salve is applied for the irritation on the skin.

He searches and searches, until the sun is almost down, when—

A soft tune is carried over by the gentle breeze of spring.

And there Jaskier is, kneeling next to a little boy on a bed and humming a lullaby that Geralt only remembers vaguely. The bard is wearing the same white scrub like every carer at this camp, his brown hair slightly ruffled, and dark circles are hanging under his eyes. Geralt can see how tired he is by the hunch of his shoulders and the barely-there quiver in his singing, by his unkept stubble and the smile that’s dangerously close to falling.

And yet, he makes the most beautiful sight in the world.

Geralt stands there, drinking in the presence of his bard. The languid heartbeat of a witcher picks up, fluttering and almost bursting out of his chest.

Jaskier runs his fingers through the boy’s hair when the lullaby comes to an end. He tucks in the blanket and slowly pulls himself up, his knees creaking from the strain.

Blue eyes meet Geralt and Jaskier’s shock morphs into unbridled, blazing joy. Within the blink of an eye, the bard is standing right in front of Geralt.

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathes oh so carefully like he’s scared of waking from a dream. “What are you doing here? Wait, you don’t have any protec—oh right! Witcher biology. Can’t catch anything from us.” The bard lets out a sigh and his shoulders drop in relief. “How did you get through the gate? Punched another guard, didn’t—”

“You are okay,” Geralt says, dumbly.

“I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Jaskier frowns. “Geralt, why did you come to Vizima in the middle of a plague? Not that I’m complaining about seeing you, but how exactly did you find me?”

Geralt doesn’t want to look away from Jaskier’s face—ideally for a long time to come, but he needs to rummage through his pack for the crumpled letters.

“You sent these to Essi last winter.”

Jaskier takes the letters, flattens the frayed edges before reading his own words.

“Yes, I did tell her…” Cold horror takes Jaskier aback. “Shit. She must think—Oh, Geralt, that wasn’t it! I only caught a stomach bug. It was never the pox! But then…they locked the city gate so fast and everything was in chaos for weeks. I couldn’t get more letters out. Oh, I wish I could take it back! I didn’t think—”

“You damn well didn’t.”

The words come out a lot harsher than Geralt intended, and Jaskier flinches back. Geralt pinches at the bridge of his nose, feeling contrite at his untimely outburst.

“No, Jask—I’m not…” he heaves out a sigh. “She didn’t even know if you were alive for months.”

Neither did I.

“I’m so sorry.” Jaskier is close to tears. “She must be worried sick.”

“She is.”

I was.

“And you too, Geralt. Please forgive me.” Jaskier’s chin wobbles, his arms hovering between the two of them as if he wants to put them around Geralt. “I want to ask you not to be cross with me again, but that seems to be all I do.”

“Jaskier…”

Geralt calls out when he finds not even an ounce of anger in his heart, not when he just spent weeks fearing the worst, not when Jaskier is standing right in front of him, safe and hale, his eyes flowing with guilt.

Jaskier might just be the death of him.

“Fuck. Just don’t pull this again.” Geralt softens his tone, knowing how unfair the request is when such things are out of Jaskier’s control, but the bard replies in earnest.

“I won’t. I swear.”

Exhaustion washes over the bard once again, making him look a lot older than he is. From the looks of it, Jaskier has been working in these camps for months and the last thing he needs is an unsupportive friend.

And Geralt doesn’t intend to become one.

“And you are dressed like this because?” Geralt nudges Jaskier in the shoulder to ease the apprehension on his face.

“Funny you should ask.” The bard presses his lips into a thin line before continuing. “I may have lied—nay, implied—that the seven degrees I acquired at Oxenfurt included…medicine. Hold on! Before you judge, I do know how to care for pox patients. I caught it as a child too and that’s why I’ve been fine this whole time.”

“Hmm. But you don’t have the—”

“The scars. No thanks to my grandmother’s secret healing salve that she insisted on keeping secret. It worked like a charm back then, almost like magic. We’ve been trying to replicate from whatever I remember. The mint is helping a little but something is still missing. Oh, well.” The bard rubs his fingers at the hem of his scrub. “Perhaps that explains all these crazy rumors about her heritage, with all her herbs and teas that always miraculously cured everybody. Honestly, I don’t even blame them.”

Geralt muses the possibility of Jaskier’s grandmother not being completely human and makes a silent decision to unpack it later.

“Then I guess your personal experience should come in handy if we are going to stay here for a while.”

“We? You are staying?”

“The exits are still closed.” Geralt tilts his head in nonchalance. “Might as well lend them a hand.”

And never take his eyes off of Jaskier again.

“That’s…wonderful, in a terrible, terrible way. Being trapped in the same place during a plague. Gods, that sounds like something out of the cheesiest romance novel.” Jaskier gasps as soon as the words are out. The smile on his face blossoms into a heated blush.

“Just promise me one thing, Jask.”

“What?” The cornflower blue eyes uncharacteristically avoid Geralt in a vain attempt to hide how flustered he is.

Don’t scare me like this again.

Don’t get taken from me.

Don’t leave me.

“Read less romance novels. Once this blows over,” Geralt answers, finally.

The fluttering in his chest returns, although this time for a completely different reason. The reason not being how adorable Jaskier looks embarrassed and rosy-cheeked.

No. Definitely not.

“Little Simon asleep?”

Geralt asks as he stokes the fire, watching Jaskier struggle out of the sweat-soaked scrub and throw it into the laundry pile. The bard sits down next to him on the log with a groan and leans into his arm.

“As flattered as I am that he can’t fall asleep without my songs, it does get a bit taxing to sing every night while kneeling on the floor.”

“The kid is sick. Can’t blame him for having bad taste in music.”

The jab would have landed better if he isn’t wrapping his arm around Jaskier so that he can rest his head on Geralt’s shoulder. The days are too long even with most of the patients released home, and it’s been taking a toll on Jaskier.

“Cruel to me when I’m down, huh?”

Under Geralt’s palm, it’s unmistakable that Jaskier’s arm isn’t as thick as it once was, and he really doesn’t want to think about how the sharp of Jaskier’s jaw is becoming more prominent by the day.

Geralt rubs gently up and down Jaskier’s bicep to draw a contented purr out of him.

“Hmm. Now you’re forgiven.” Jaskier nuzzles into the crook of Geralt’s neck so his muscles loosen under the ministration. “It’s so unfair that a shift never wears you out like the rest of us, my dear. So unfair that you don’t need as much food too. I’d kill for some witcher superpowers these days.”

“Trust me, you won’t like what they cost.”

The late summer heat, mixed with the smell of sweat in Jaskier’s hair, should make it extremely uncomfortable to be sitting so close, but Geralt only finds it calming to have Jaskier sagging against him.

Jaskier’s thinning shoulder is too worrisome. Geralt will have to leave him most of the dinner rations again. Excuses are so easy to find, once Geralt realized that Jaskier never questions what he’s told about witcher biology, trusting every word from Geralt’s mouth. It’s just a little lie, a little exaggeration.

The bard is rubbing off on him.

“Simon is among the last ones here,” Jaskier says tiredly into Geralt’s neck. “It will soon be over. They are saying everyone can go in a month or so.”

“We can go even now.”

The prospect of traveling again stirs up something hopeful under Geralt’s skin, prickling with excitement, but he knows more patience is required for now.

“Nah, I should at least see little Simon home. You were right that the boy has suffered enough. The fever is terrible. Even I still have nightmares about it after so many years. It’s excruciating, almost like death is trying to mock you. One moment a fire burns through your whole body, the next it swallows you whole into this…nothingness, cold and alone.”

Geralt tightens his hold and breathes in the melancholic scent emanating from Jaskier’s skin.

“It was my grandmother, again. She sang the same lullaby to me every night, kept me sane. It’s helping little Simon too.”

“It’s in elvish,” Geralt murmurs absently when Jaskier is close to drifting off. The bard’s leveled breathing fans over the collar of Geralt’s neck.

“…hmm?”

“Nothing. Maybe for later.”

Geralt’s fingers reach the side of Jaskier’s head and thread between the soft brown locks, keeping his drooping head in place for the nap. When he looks down to where Jaskier casually drapes over half of his body, the two of them almost melding into one, Geralt is suddenly hit with how much their relationship has changed over the past few years, and at the same time, how it feels completely natural like puzzles fitting into place.

This newfound intimacy should scare Geralt, but strangely, it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because the witcher has learned long ago to treasure his bard as a companion and friend, to protect him and care for him, even without ever admitting it out loud.

Maybe he should.

And what would he even say? Geralt is equally elated and stumped at the thought of the two of them growing into something more. If the fluttering in his chest is a result of loving Jaskier, the bard deserves to know, and he deserves the best words.

Geralt scoffs softly when he realizes that he’d kill for something completely opposite. Not the strength of a witcher, but the silver tongue of a bard, the ability to weave the most beautiful prose to describe what Jaskier means to him.

The summer cicadas are singing with renewed vigor, the sizzling sound disrupting his train of thought. For now, Geralt will need to content himself in simply being with Jaskier.

And, perhaps, in pressing a tiny kiss into his soft brown hair as well. Under the night sky, only the stars will know.

I didn't know plague doctor Jaskier could be a thing until I started writing this chapter, and the ending just had to make way for it. Sorry that the chapter count has gone up. I promise hugs are cuddles are on the way! <3

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @birdsflyhome @dapandapod @artisanbaguette

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #soft geralt #hug a witcher day #soft jaskier #cw: plague #guess this should be a warning #protective geralt #essi daven #jaskier sings to children

89 notes · View notes

solinarimoon · 4 years ago

Text

Fields of Wildflowers

Chapter 2

A/N: anything in italics is either inner monologue or reminiscing. Please let me know if you’re enjoying the story and might like to be on my taglist. You can read the prequel one-shot and chapter 1 if you wish.

Warnings: None for this chapter (I think)

Word Count: 2253

Pairing: Sihtric x OC

The sun beat down on the company as they traveled along the road. The plan was to travel to Ceaster where, with luck, Aethelflaed would be waiting. Uhtred and the Lady of Mercia had discussed contingency plans of retreating there should tensions in Mercia boil over.

Cwen rode along beside Osferth who drove the cart containing their meager supplies and the children. She knew Ealfwin was feeling scared and worried for her mother. The young girl was a gentle and sensitive creature. She spent her days playing with dolls or with her little birds.

In many ways, Ealfwin reminded Cwen of her mother as a child. Aethelflaed had grown into an independent and smart woman. But at Ealfwin’s age, while she was intelligent, Aethelflaed’s head was full of dreaming. Mainly dreams full of romance and love. It made Cwen sad that her friend’s spirit had had those dreams dashed and torn from her with her marriage to Aethelred.

Aethelflaed was keenly aware of her daughter’s disposition and she fought to protect that innocence as long as she could. It was a hard balance to find. Preparing your child for harsh truths and realities. Giving them the skill and knowledge to deal with those truths head on while still allowing them their innocence.

But in this moment, Cwen wondered if the young girl was too sheltered, too naive.

Cwen always strived to be truthful and realistic with Ealfwin. She had been through too much and known Aethelflaed to have gone through too much to deny the child that kindness.

Cwen could hear Stiorra chiding Ealfwin from the back of the cart. She also heard Young Uhtred defending her.

Give her a few minutes and then I will check on her, Cwen thought. See if Stiorra’s words altered Ealfwin’s weepy state. Cwen did not aim to be dismissive or cruel. But she did want to avoid swooping in to rescue the girl from those harsh words. Harsh words are everywhere and a woman must learn to stand up to them.

Cwen’s thoughts were interrupted at the sound of a rider approaching. She felt her heart flutter in her chest and she rode back to her beside Ealfwin. Harsh words from a companion were one thing. Unknown dangers and unknown riders were a different story.

The rider was a woman. Cwen recognized her and had to suppress a shudder. Instead she turned her eyes to find Sihtric.

He gallops past the group to crest the hill where Eadith had just appeared. That was her name. Eadith. Sister to Eardwulf.

As Sihtric galloped back to the front of their party, his eyes met Cwen’s. Too fast for her to read anything from them. But they still met and she felt a calm come over her.

“I will be right back. Stay in the cart with Aethelstan.” Cwen’s words were soothing but firm. Ealfwin nodded her understanding while shifting to have a better view of the front of the cart.

When Cwen cantered forward she positioned herself next to Sihtric. Her eyes met Uhtred’s. What information does Eadith bring?

“The Lady Aethelflaed has fled Aylesbury. She bid me find you and tell you she wishes you to meet her at the ruins of St. Millburgs Priory.”

“Did your brother send you?” Cwen askes.

At her interjection, both Uhtred and Eadith glance at her.

“No. He does not know I am here. My brother imprisoned Lady Aethelflaed but I helped her escape.” Eadith said while shifting her eyes back to Uhtred.

“Why should I believe you?”

“I do not lie,” Eadith quipped as if those words should serve as a convincing argument.

“Then how did you know where to find us?” Uhtred asked.

“The Lady told me you had spoken of traveling to Ceaster. I was to find you and bid you meet her at the ruins.”

Young Uhtred spoke up, “St. Milburg’s is on the way to Wenloca and we have passed it.”

“It could be a trick to divert us,” Finan added.

At this, Eadith expressed her frustration, “I have done what I promised. You can choose to believe it or not,” she finished with a sigh.

“Where will you go?” Uhtred asks her.

“I have family in Frankia”

“If you wish to board a ship to Frankia, you must ride inland with us. It is not safe on the road alone. And,” Uhtred spoke aside to his men, “then at least if she lies she will be under our control.”

Cwen was taken aback when Eadith spat back at Uhtred, “I am sick of being controlled.”

Perhaps her brother has not made her life easy either, Cwen thought to herself. She was keenly aware of how Eardwulf exerted control and power.

Cwen took a shuddering breath and refocused her attention on the conversation.

She did not notice Sihtric glance at her from across his saddle.

“Cwen, you know Aethelflaed well. I am of one mind, but would hear your thoughts,” Uhtred asked.

Cwen looked askance at Eadith before giving her answer.

“The sooner we can get mother and daughter reunited the better. We both know that Aldhelm would do this for Aethelflaed. And my instinct tells me Eadith speaks the truth.”

“Lord,” Finan interjected, “We should not do this. If she found us, so can they.”

Uhtred thinks on Cwen and Finan’s words for a moment.

Raising his head to meet Eadith’s eyes once more, “Are you good with children?”

“Not really.” She replied.

“Good, neither are we. Well except for Cwen here,” Uhtred inclined his head to indicate Cwen.

“We go back,” he said with finality.

Rather than travel alone, the lady Eadith joined their caravan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later found the companions ambling along a wooded path. Ealfwin was resting in the cart while Aethelstan and Uhtred’s children shared pieces of stale bread.

Sihtric dropped back from riding next to Finan to be beside Cwen.

“Do you need some bread, lady?” He offered.

“I am no lady, Sihtric. Must I always remind you of that?” Cwen smiled over to Sihtric good naturedly. It had become a game now between them.

Sihtric chuckled lightly, “take some bread, Cwen.”

“I will, thank you,” Cwen said while reaching for the stale lump he offered.

“Be careful, Cwen,” Osferth interjected. “That bread will crack a tooth. Best to let it sit in your mouth for a bit before you chew it.”

The three laughed lightly at his jest and then settled into a comfortable silence.

Cwen enjoyed the forest. She tipped her head up to gaze at the sun breaking through the branches overhead. She allowed herself a large inhale of the musty, earthy aroma then slowly exhaled.

“You seem at peace in the forest.” Sihtric commented and Cwen turned her face towards him. He sees me, she thought to herself.

“Your breathing wasn’t so calm on the road.” He spoke the last while turning to face her gaze.

“You noticed that?” Cwen asked.

When Sihtric did not answer, “something in our conversation in the road gave me pause. Brought back memories.” Cwen glanced ahead at Eadith.

Then she added, “and I admit I am anxious about our plan. There are so many unknowns. And I wish Aethelflaed to be alright. And for Ealfwin to be reunited with her mother.”

Sihtric could tell that Cwen was breezing over her demeanor on the road. Whether it was an effort to avoid talking about it, he did not know.

“I have always found peace in forests.” He offered.

Cwen met Sihtric’s eyes at his admission. She gave him one of those small grins that he loved.

Sihtric found himself looking for her smiles more and more.

He had lain awake the previous night after the rest of the camp had fallen asleep thinking about the gentle curves of her lips. He could have drifted to sleep easily imagining her grins directed at him.

But he couldn’t help replaying their conversation from upstairs at the estate. The knowledge that someone had threatened her, maybe forced themselves on her made his entire body seethe with rage.

He could stand the horrors of battle and the violence that he faced against enemies in the services of his Lord. Even if it were women like Skade or Brida. They chose their paths. Brida was an equal on the battlefield. Skade played dangerous games and she knew full well that she was playing them.

But Sihtric could not abide harm to innocents. Saxon or Dane. He had witnessed too much in his service to Kjartan. He did not call the man his father. He was his mother’s son. And he knew too well that it was the same violence and violation that Kjartan forced upon his mother that now Sihtric worried had been forced upon Cwen.

He had wiped his hand across his face in frustration and sat up looking for her.

Across the fire, nestled next to Ealfwin and Aethelstan, Cwen was sleeping. They were safe for the moment. She was safe.

Sihtric had risen and relieved Finan of his watch. If he wasn’t able to sleep he may as well let his Irish brother rest.

A sudden yell and flurry of activity at the rear of the cart brought Sihtric back to the present.

“Stay near the children,” he ordered Cwen as they both turned their horses to see vagrants trying to steal bread from Stiorra.

Quick as lightning, Uhtred was by his daughter and the would-be thieves ran towards the front of the cart.

At almost the same instance, another man appeared hollering that the road was closed. Having gained control of the situation, Finan and Sihtric dismounted to approach the macabre scene blocking the path.

Cwen dismounted her horse to climb onto the cart and check on Ealfwin.

“It is alright, little bird. They will not let anyone harm you,” she cooed while grasping the young girl's hand. “Nor you, Aethelstan. These people appear to just be hungry. It is alright. I am going to see how we will proceed with the road being closed.”

Cwen waited to see both children nod, then dismounted the cart.

It was then that she heard Finan shout in a panic, “It’s the sickness. They’re dying of the sickness.”

The next few minutes were a blur of chaos as Finan tried to clean Stiorra’s arm where the brigands had touched her and Uhtred attempted to soothe the warrior.

Cwen stepped up to stand beside Sihtric as he cleaned off his blade.

“It was a kindness,” he tells her.

Cwen looked down to his bloody knife and then glanced over his shoulder to see the grim display in the road and she understood.

“It was,” she confirms for him.

Then her attention shifted back to hear Uhtred discuss leaving the horses and traveling through the woods.

“The children will not make it on foot,” Sihtric says. His words were quiet to not alarm anyone.

“Then we find somewhere safe for them,” but Finan’s words are cut off when both Uhtred and Cwen protest.

“We will not leave them behind.”

“They are stronger than you imagine,” Cwen argued. “They are both used to plans changing and to adapting by now.”

“We know that, Cwen,” Uhtred tried to soothe her. “But it will be hard and we do not know what obstacles we may face. It can be difficult to defend those you hold dear out in the open, no shelter, no place to hide.”

Cwen takes a breath before speaking again. She looks at Finan, Uhtred, and Sihtric in turn.

Sihtric interrupts her before she can speak again, “I did not mean that the children are not strong and capable.”

“I know Sihtric. But what choice do we actually have now?” She asks, shifting her gaze to rest on Uhtred.

“Cwen is right. We must continue on foot and through the land to avoid the roads and bad air. It will be alright Finan, we will be safe from the sickness. And we have no other choice.” Uhtred’s words soothe the big man.

Both Cwen and Eadith, who had remained quiet during the whole exchange, recognize that the men have faith in their lord. The two women exchange a glance before Eadith dismounts her horse and they gather their supplies to continue on foot.

“It seems these men have truly found a good lord in Uhtred. I can see their faith in him,” Eadith comments to Cwen as they are helping the children down off the cart.

Cwen regards her for a moment before replying, “He is a man that other’s trust to follow. I have known him since I was a child and he has always inspired the trust of others.”

“What a strange thing to find myself in this company,” Eadith then says, more to herself than to Cwen.

“I know you are not used to the company of good men.” Cwen speaks matter of factly without waiting for a response or looking for a reaction. “And these are good men. All of them.” Cwen finishes the last words while looking across the back of the cart to see Sihtric taking his packs off his horse. She doesn’t look to Eadith as she walks away to gather Ealfwin and Aethelstan.

And then the companions begin their trek on foot to reach Wenloca.

Tag list: @morosemagick @maggiescarborough @pokeasleepingsmaug @nxrdist @mystic-shadows42 @emilyhufflepufftlk @magravenwrites @lauwrite1225 @thebohemianpenguin @mrsalwayswrite @notyourwildestdream @obipoelover

#sihtric #the last kingdom #fanfiction #sihtric x oc

96 notes · View notes

kylorengarbagedump · 4 years ago

Text

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 2

Read on AO3. Part 1 here. Part 3 here.

Summary: So, like, what's the big deal, buddy?

Words: 3800

Warnings: None. Yet.

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: Hello!! Firstly, thank you so much to @bastila-ren and @elmidol for listening to me talk so much about this fic, for reading the first two chapters, and helping me with their generous feedback.

Secondly, I want to thank all of you for your EXTREMELY generous response to this fic. I admit I was very nervous to post this, and still am very nervous to write it, but I can't explain how helpful it is to know that people still enjoy the story and want to read more. It's definitely a story I want to write!

Y’all have truly been too kind to me. I don't have a posting schedule, just yet--I'm hoping every week or every other week. :) Love y'all SOOOOO MUCH.

Like the smarmy bastard he was, Hux fought off a smirk. But Allegiant General Pryde gazed at you with what some might refer to as sheer, indignant horror.

Kylo Ren stopped feet from the throne, his gaze wandering your grungy hair, dirtied uniform, the cell filth on your face.

“Hm,” he said. “That’s one way to greet your Supreme Leader.”

Embers tickled your cheeks. Your Supreme Leader.

You looked at the two other men. What was on your tongue: Would you prefer I get on my knees instead?

What you ended up saying: “Uh, sorry. Sir.”

“I believe the Supreme Leader requires an apology a little more comprehensive than uh, sorry.” Pryde stepped forward, as if to explain. “Sir, this woman was brought aboard by General Hux without prior approval.”

Kylo glanced between the older men, stare drifting to you, the darkness in his eyes reviving an animal within you that had been placed on life support.

“Yes,” he replied. “I don’t recall providing authorization for this.”

“Supreme Leader,” Hux said, “we both know your TIE has been out of commission for several cycles. I thought it prudent to--”

“You thought it prudent to ask a manager of a remote outpost to come aboard the flagship of the First Order. I assume that’s what you’re about to say.” Pryde paused, waiting for Hux’s contrition--but none came. He turned to Kylo. “Sir, again, please forgive me. Had I known he’d be bringing aboard a rim-dweller who would defy your authority, I would’ve denied his request, entirely.”

“Defiance.” Kylo’s gaze drilled you. Much like you had dreamt of something else of his drilling you. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Pryde balked. “Well, I hardly find it appropriate to address the Supreme Leader of the First Order as dude, for starters.” He spat the word onto the floor like poison. “Really, General, you and her both should be begging for his pardon.”

You swallowed, attention on Kylo, trying to hide your glee. “Please, please forgive me,” you murmured. “Supreme Leader.”

Hux cleared his throat. “My apologies as well, sir.”

“Hm.” If he’d understood your tease, he didn’t acknowledge it. You frowned. Kylo looked to the cloaked mercenaries behind you. “Escort her back to Orinda.”

Disbelief smacked you across the face. “I’m sorry, what?”

Sputtering, Hux stepped forward. “Supreme Leader--”

“You don’t belong on this vessel,” Kylo said, glimpsing you, then the cloaked figures again. “Report is postponed. Prepare the Buzzard for departure.”

Like droids, they activated and brushed past you, stalking toward the turbolift. The Supreme Dickhead gazed at you expectantly.

“They’re not patient.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “If you think I’m leaving--”

“Supreme Leader,” Hux said again. For once, you felt like both of you were stuck in the same flabbergasted pod. “Repairing your fighter has already wasted the time of numerous engineers, we don’t need to add--”

“Perhaps every engineer aboard deserves to have their time equally wasted, General.”

Hux’s jaw tensed. “If you wish, sir,” he replied. “But we could resolve the issue now.”

“We won’t.”

For whatever reason, Kylo Ren seemed dedicated to preventing you from working on this ship, as if he didn’t know your skill level. As if he believed other engineers deserved a shot at it over you. Ignoring the furious trembling of your fingers, you dug them into your sleeves.

“What, you don’t think I’m capable?” you asked, frowning.

Pryde sighed. “Supreme Leader, the Council--”

Kylo pivoted to you. “No.” There was no hint of mockery or deception in his tone. “You’re capable.”

You swallowed, shrugged your shoulder. Tried not to sound hurt. “Then why won’t you let me try?”

Hazel eyes lingered, held you in silence for deafening seconds. There was something very, very tired inside of them.

“Sir,” Pryde said, “as much as I love the rousing debate over whether or not this rimrat should be deemed worthy of working on your starfighter, the Supreme Council meeting is in minutes.” He turned to you. “I believe you’ve been directed to leave.”

You furrowed your brow, but miraculously managed to say nothing. The muscle under Kylo’s nose twitched.

“You’ll get two hours.” He didn’t seem excited about the idea. “After that, you will return to Orinda.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” you sighed. “Sir.”

A huff escaped him. “The Supreme Council meeting.” He turned, strode to the exit. “Come.”

Pryde frowned. “Sir, shouldn’t Hux return her to the hangar?”

“No.” Kylo’s voice ricocheted in the chamber. “She’s coming.”

Something like joy sparkled in your heart. Hux jutted out his chin, smirking at Pryde, who frowned and looked to you. You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out at him. There was a puzzle in his mind regarding your identity, a puzzle he was struggling to put together without the missing pieces. You weren’t interested in offering them.

The three of you followed Kylo into the turbolift. Out of irritation, you stood as far away from him as possible. Awkward quiet settled in the air, and you grit your teeth, ignoring the sting of humiliation at your cheeks. Sure, it was nice he was inviting you to his little meeting, but that hardly compensated for the fact that it had been four entire months since you’d seen him and he was intent on booting you without so much as a parting fuck.

Not that you wanted to fuck him after that stunt.

Mostly.

The lift descended. Kylo hadn’t even looked at you, despite your best attempts at petty distancing. Hundreds of words hung on your tongue, and so few of them were appropriate for the ears of Hux and Pryde. Luckily for you, you could think them, instead.

Jackass.

The blast door slid open, and Kylo exited without response, the two generals on his heels. You lagged behind them, glare boring into the broad-shouldered bastard with the flowing cape.

Can’t believe this asshole was here the entire time, knowing everything, with all of the power in the galaxy, just doing bantha-shit about it.

Stormtroopers passed in formation, nodding in deference to the men in front of you as you turned a corner. The clomping of boots was the only sound for meters.

Leaving you for four months, horny as hell, lonely as hell, all while he was here doing what? Jerking off? As if he hadn’t begged you to stay. Please.

At the end of the hall, a set of blast doors parted, and you trailed the group inside, greeted by a massive, jet-black table with a hologram projector buried in the center. The occupants of about a dozen chairs turned, their eyes stuck to you, assessing you. Kylo crossed to the head of the table, Hux and Pryde taking spaces near him. The only open seats were at the back, relegated for only the most irrelevant attendees. You slunk over to one, sinking into it.

Apparently you’re not relevant to anyone in this room, anyway.

“Who’s this?” A balding officer of high-rank stared at you. “Supreme Leader?”

Pryde leaned forward. “She’s the Chief--”

“Who she is,” Kylo drawled, “is none of your concern.”

Blood heated your face. The room rumbled with uncertainty, but only for seconds.

“Sir,” said an older woman with slick blonde hair, “Multiple locations on Kamino refused entry to officers seeking out junior recruits. Our entry-level ranks are suffering. Requesting additional--”

Kylo glanced at her. “Yes.”

She nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“Supreme Leader,” said an older, white-haired man. “Surveillance indicates that a fuel depot located in the Inner Rim has received communications from Resistance starships.”

“Have they responded?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Eliminate them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Another, dark-skinned woman inched to the edge of her seat. “Supreme Leader, ground troops found no evidence of Resistance sympathizers on the most recent patrol of Aeos Prime.”

“And the infrastructure.”

“Seems salvageable, sir.”

Kylo blinked, as if the answer hadn’t even mattered. “Move to the next outpost in the system.”

“Of course, Supreme Leader.”

Yet another man cleared his throat. “Supreme Leader, if I may…”

Swallowing, you stared into the gleaming tabletop, tracing the rivets of white light bordering the projector. Voices rose, offering status updates and seeking approval of the man at the head of the room. Obviously, there was nothing attractive about how competent and powerful Kylo Ren appeared in this setting. And this definitely did not tingle pride in your belly watching every single person in this room vie for his favor, knowing that out of all of them, the one he’d fucked was you.

Then again, maybe that was the very crux of the issue. His time and attention was desired and demanded and split between thousands--he directed and delegated an entire, galaxy-wide government. He commanded armies. Strategized operations. Balanced every need, tangible and intangible, with only two hands.

You spent your days bathing in ion dust.

The Allegiant Asshole cleared his throat, breaking you from your pity party. “General Hux,” he said, “didn’t you have your pet project to present?”

All eyes turned to Hux, his face dull with irritation. Lips pursing, he straightened his spine, fingers whizzing over the data screen at his seat. One swipe, a quick field entry, and the projector hummed to life, shooting a blue hologram of a TIE fighter above the table. It flickered, rotating like a display.

“The First Order has regularly demonstrated deficient performance during naval engagements, despite our superior numbers and resources,” Hux said. “After gathering data, we discovered that during our most recent missions, the TIE fighter is regularly out-piloted by Resistance sympathizers.” He tapped the screen, and the hologram split into a cross-section. “Thorough research indicates the TIE model is obsolete.”

The room crackled with whispers, officers turning to each other and looking to Hux, their faces twisted in disbelief. Kylo Ren sat, saying nothing, trained on the display.

Sighing, you gazed at your hands and cleaned your nails. To you, this was obvious. Of course the basic TIE models--the TIE/fo models--were obsolete. The ships were highly inflexible, carried little firepower for their unwieldy construction, and had no hyperdrive application. In comparison to the model used by the Special Forces, the TIE/fo was practically useless.

It was less obvious why these high-ranking strangers seemed unable to handle the truth.

“General,” said a dark-skinned man. “Are you proposing we abandon the TIE corps?”

Hux pressed the screen again, and it zoomed in on an exposed ion engine. “At the very least, the most basic TIE corps is woefully unequipped in comparison to Resistance fighters.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he replied, “our pilots are extensively trained.”

Pryde sneered. “Admiral Griss is correct,” he said. “Our elite troops don’t demonstrate any issue with crushing Resistance burrows.”

“Elite troops are never the ones defending a new occupation.” Hux gestured to the engine blueprint. “We sacrifice our progress because of this antiquated construction.”

“And what’s so antiquated about it?” Pryde sneered. “The construction is based on the Imperial TIE. These ships were a well-known symbol of naval superiority.”

“Updated for modern needs,” added Griss.

Hux’s voice rose a decibel. “Not modern enough, given how frequently a single X-wing will decimate an entire unit.”

You wanted to groan. Against your will, you had to admit Hux was right. Orinda regularly saw straggling, crippled TIEs smash into the valley outside the hangar in attempts to land for repair. Mirna had pulled more pilots than you could count out of blazing wreckage.

“Do you suggest we change the basic TIE unit, then?” Griss asked.

“Perhaps,” Hux replied, “or we move to a different construction entirely.”

The other officers chuckled, murmurs rippling through the ranks again.

“Supreme Leader,” Pryde said, “what he’s suggesting is absurd. Sienar-Jaemus manufactures perfectly appropriate and functional fighters at an affordable price to the First Order. It’s been done this way since the Empire.”

Rolling your eyes, you sat back in your chair. For a General of a government allegedly interested in innovation and progress, Pryde seemed to love sucking the Empire’s dick. The fact that they were refusing to even entertain Hux’s idea was, well…

“Perhaps we should place a double order for the basic fighters, sir,” Pryde continued. “To demonstrate their capability.”

You snorted. “Now that’s absurd.”

Every voice in the room died. Leather squelched, and you glanced up from your nails in time to see a dozen bodies shifting in their seats to turn and look at you. Inwardly, you cursed--you hadn’t had to practice volume control in months.

At the head of the table, Kylo Ren stared. His expression, even to you, was indiscernible. But even if he was mad, you wouldn’t have cared. Not as long as he still intended on kicking you off the Steadfast without another word.

Shrugging, you said, “General Hux is right. The original TIE model is flawed. They lose out one-on-one almost every time.” Kylo still said nothing, the rest of the room too confused to interrupt you. “I guarantee there’s more credits spent on replacement models than it would cost to invest in something more versatile.”

Griss’s nose wrinkled, and he looked between you and Kylo. “I…” When Kylo offered no response, Griss settled on you. “I’m not sure what brought you here, ah… Lieutenant, but regardless of your purpose, you’re surrounded by superiors of the First Order. Don’t speak out of turn.”

“Right,” you said, “I do apologize, sir. But you have to admit that this all is a little absurd. I see busted up basic TIEs all the time. They’re a failure.”

“Yes,” he replied, “and you are?”

“Chief of Operations on Orinda.”

“An outpost?” The room echoed with laughter, and you bristled. Griss gestured to you. “Supreme Leader, please, why is this woman here?”

Pryde nodded. “I know you have your reasons, sir, but surely she doesn’t belong in this room.”

“Maybe this woman knows what she’s talking about,” you mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Griss whipped around, leering at you. “Mind repeating yourself, Lieutenant?”

Volume control. Really needed to get better with that.

Gathering a breath, you swallowed your ire. You could not spend all two hours on the Steadfast immediately making enemies with the military leaders of the First Order. Given Kylo’s state, you doubted he’d encourage your attitude.

“My apologies,” you said, bowing your head, “I’m just. Nervous. Being on this ship for the first time.”

“Perhaps you’ve spent too much time on Orinda,” said Griss. “You’ve forgotten the hierarchy.”

“She needs re-education,” said the balding man.

The dark-skinned woman huffed. “Or a demotion.”

“Some form of discipline, surely.”

“Yes,” said Pryde with a glare. “Perhaps that should be arranged.”

Your heart skipped.

“Enough.”

Every person in the room spun, attention on Kylo Ren.

He was still inscrutable. Still gazing directly at you.

A shiver spilled over your spine. Like instinct, your thighs pressed together.

“General Hux,” he said. “Prepare a plan for the replacement of the basic TIE model.” A pause. No one spoke a word. “Dismissed.”

You remained in your seat as the other officers rose, their lips sealed as they filed out of the room. Hux scowled at you--ungrateful prick--and acknowledged Kylo’s order before leaving. Pryde scrutinized you, his focus flipping between you and his Supreme Leader as he stood from the table.

“It’s time to leave, Lieutenant,” he said.

“I need a moment,” you replied, glancing at him. “Sir.”

Pryde turned to Kylo. “Sir?”

Kylo’s face was blank. “Dismissed, General.”

Whatever Pryde was thinking, he didn’t say. He offered deference to the Supreme Leader before strutting out, the blast door shutting behind him.

The moment it closed, the room thickened with heat, like stars vaporized the air. Sweat beaded your hairline, your tongue drying to paper. Every movement you thought to make was paused, paralyzed by confusion. Had it been four months ago, you’d be getting railed on top of the table or in his chair, you were sure of it. But Kylo seemed almost indifferent now. It neutered every response that came to mind.

Here you were, alone with Kylo Ren for the first time since you’d left. He was only meters away from you. And you had absolutely no idea what to do.

“Your time is limited, Lieutenant.”

A reminder he wanted you gone. You shook your head, chewing the inside of your lip.

“The silencer is free to be inspected.”

Indignance tightened your chest. Your face was on fire.

“Or perhaps,” Kylo said, “you’d rather travel directly to Orinda.”

You whirled on him. “So you knew I was on Orinda the entire time?” Your frustration was unfettered. “You knew and just didn’t do anything about it? For four months?”

His stare didn’t yield. “Yes.”

“Yes?” you said. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? How do you expect me to respond to that?” More heat gripped your neck. He was still. “Why do you want me gone so badly? You act like you don’t even want me around.”

“I don’t.”

The words were switchblades to your chest. You shook your head, gulped your pain.

“Uh. Okay. Wow.” Sighing, you continued, “But don’t you--I mean. You pleaded with me to stay.”

He said nothing.

“You... I know how you feel. You can’t hide that from me. Do you…” Your throat was tight. “Did something change?”

For four months, you had wondered what had been going on in Kylo Ren’s mind. Seeing him draped in the responsibility of the Supreme Leader of the First Order, hesitation crept into your gut. Within his gaze, perhaps only apparent to you, there was a black, terrible emptiness, like shadows reined in by his rage. Exhaustion hung in dark circles under his eyes and at his cheeks. His presence was as breathtaking as it ever had been, only haunted with the weight of the galaxy.

For four months, you had wondered. You didn’t know, now, if you wanted the answer.

“You don’t belong here.” Kylo paused, then stood, moving toward the door. “Your presence is not warranted.”

“Warranted? That’s not what this is about.” You shot to your feet, intercepting his path. “You knew where I was, and you never once came to me! You left me there! Alone!” He side-stepped you, and you followed him, keeping your eyes chained to his. “Didn’t you miss me?” you asked. “Didn’t you think about me?”

He stalled. Exhaling through his nose, he spoke through his teeth. “Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you find me?” you said. “You promised!”

Kylo stood, trapped in your stare, his fingers furling into fists.

“I know how you feel about me.” You advanced on him. “I know it.”

You were so near you could feel his breath, count the individual strands of his hair, bask in the warmth of his body. A short inhale, and memory slammed you like gravity--the scent of his skin, his palms gripping your waist, his lips brushing your ear. The ache in your hands at night when they were not full of him, the bedtime yearning in your limbs when they were not wound around his. You had known him, known him, as if his blood ran in your veins.

This was the closest you’d been to Kylo Ren in weeks upon weeks. Somehow, you only felt further away.

“Why?” you asked. “Why didn’t you find me?” After all of it, he only stared. It lit you with rage, and you bumped your chest with his. “Say something!”

The muscle in his jaw tightened. His shoulders rolled. But he was silent.

A peal of bitter laughter escaped you. Whatever issues he had didn’t mater. You deserved more than what he was offering.

“Wow. Okay.” You shrugged, stepping back. “I don’t know who I was thinking about for these past four months, but it definitely wasn’t you.” Shaking your head, you turned toward the door. “Whatever, dude. Fuck you.”

You took a single step, and Kylo snatched your wrist, whipped you against his body.

“You say that,” he breathed, “as if you haven’t been thinking about getting fucked since you arrived.”

Oxygen fled your lungs. Every blood cell in your body piled onto your cheeks and between your legs. In seconds, you were a throbbing, pent-up, swell of lust.

You swallowed. “Oh, please,” you muttered. “You can’t distract me that easily. You know I need answers.”

“Hm.” Kylo scanned your figure. “So you say.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You tried to peel your wrist free. “Why didn’t you do this weeks ago, huh?”

His face darkened, his hold on you tightened.

“You ask questions that have no answers.”

“Ugh. Get off.” Grunting, you shouldered him, body buffeting his like a flaccid wave. It would’ve been arousing, his strength, how utterly solid he was, if he wasn’t making you miserable in this moment. “You’re so full of it, man. Let me go. I’ll go repair your dumbass ship and you can send me back to Orinda, like you so clearly want.”

“You presume to understand what I want.” His voice was severe, a dull blade. “You will not stay here.” The ghost of a smirk fled his face. “But you won’t escape punishment when you’re gone.”

You shuddered, stuck out your chin. “Your punishments don’t scare me.”

Kylo growled. “Really.” A leather palm cupped the back of your neck, tugged you close. “Such confidence.”

You couldn’t help it. A tiny, excited whimper left you. Kylo shifted, his hand squeezed--

The projector in the table beeped. An incoming transmission. The both of you froze, staring at the blinking request on the interface. You coughed, patted his chest as a signal to answer it. The knot in his throat bobbed, and he released you, crossing to the console and accepting the message.

Hux appeared in hologram form. “Supreme Leader,” he said, voice even more snivelly through the broadcast. “We received a distress signal from Orinda. Multiple Resistance fighters have been detected on radar. Requests for response from the officers stationed there have gone unanswered.”

The joints in your body locked. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Permission to dispatch TIE units, sir,” Hux said.

Kylo was still. “Dispatch.”

“Yes, sir.”

The hologram winked out. Before you could process, your feet were moving you toward the door.

“I gotta go.” Your pulse pounded in your temple. The entirety of your crew was down there. By themselves. “I gotta go there. I gotta get there. I’m sorry, I know I said I would repair your ship but--”

“Stop.”

“--it’s probably for the best anyway, I just gotta find some way there, I--”

He spoke your name like a command. You stopped. Stared into his tired, empty eyes.

His chest fell in a small sigh. “We’ll take the Buzzard,” he said. “Come.”

Kylo Ren tread past you, through the blast doors, into the hallway. The tatters of your bewildered heart weren’t a priority right now. You followed him--your Supreme Leader.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren #defy your authority #fya2 #fanfiction problems #WEEEWOOO WEEEWOOO

190 notes · View notes

remsmoonlight · 4 years ago

Text

— title : calming the waters

— word count : 2.3 k words

— pairing : rick grimes x reader

— summary : the switch from surviving on the road to living in a cookie cut neighbourhood hasn’t been easy on anyone, especially the leader of your group, you leave it to yourself to remind him it’s not all on his shoulders

— warnings : only brief descriptions of blood and violence .. usual stuff for twd

note: only at the end did i realise i left the opportunity for smut but im too tired to continue damn

Life in Alexandria has so far been strange to adjust to, you continue to find yourself waking up regularly through the night. Your body has relied so long on a broken sleep cycle it simply cannot switch off the switch as easily as you wish for it, and wish for it you do every night before bed. However, life refuses to heed to your desires, preferring to disregard them completely. Your family finds it amusing to tease you about the dark circles under your eyes, that is after you have had anything with caffeine in to rattle your system into a state of alertness.

How the residents have made it this far agitates you to no end, while you and your family have suffered tragedy and loss at the hands of people like the Governor, to the people at Terminus while they sat sheltered and safe from the horrors of this new world crawls under your skin. The thought scratching inside of you, they’ve never known pain as you have, the realisation comes as one of the sons of the Monroe family accosted you the moment you set out of the door.

“ ⏤ she keeps going on about this pasta maker. I’m telling you, she never stops. “

“ she never stops, huh? “ you ask, placing yourself on the porch step with your head lazily resting in your hands. You felt as soon as he began speaking to you it was going to be a conversation you would not be interested in.

The you from twenty five minutes ago happens to be correct.

This all began because Rick thought it appropriate to let you sleep a while longer, and while you do feel more rested than you have in the longest time you can remember, you can feel irritation tickling the back of your neck intensely. Oh, I’m going to kill him when I see him. A silent thought interrupts you rudely, you almost shake your head to be rid of it and focus back on Spencer.

“ yeah, she’s not someone you wanna be caught right now by. She can talk your ears off for days. “ he informs with a chuckle, completely unaware of your blasé attitude or uncaring for it.

“ you know, I can really imagine that. “

Every inch of you is buzzing with an uncomfortable energy, you don’t want to integrate with their community just yet, preferring to feel around and understand the dynamics of how everything works. When society fell into the flames from humanity’s last fight with the walkers, you were lucky enough to have been able to seek safety with your group back in Atlanta at the quarry, and these have been the same people you have spent time with, shared your meals with, everything done has been with them. Quiet town life has been a memory of a past life that has faded into nothing more than a grey blur, shrouded in fog. To live here? It’s like learning how to ride a bicycle after many years of letting it gather dust. Your ways are not perfect, but they’re perfect for you. For your own pace and peace of mind.

“ has my mom given you a job yet? “

“ uh, yeah actually she has. I used to be a preschool teacher before everything went to hell. “ you explain to him, your memories of the children you used to teach had been painful until Judith. The little girl had been what you needed to confront your past that you had been so quick to push away in order to survive. You can’t count how many times you’d come close to thinking about their little faces, and if they’d survived the initial chaos, refusing to even put a face to a possible death. You’d spent many days and many hours getting to know their audacious and bold personalities, it cut you deep to even imagine the days they were supposed to have, the lives they should have been promised extinguished so prematurely as if they had been no more than a flame of a candle burning in the night.

“ well, those classes are really small. You won’t have your hands full. I suppose you’ll probably be helping with the afternoon classes, we’ve got more teenagers here. “

“ mhm, I thought as much. “ your words are a small acknowledgement, though it deterred him little.

Spencer keeps talking and talking, every once in a while you mutter an ‘ yeah ‘ or an ‘ mhm ‘ and even at points humming in response. It’s obvious he means well and is trying to get to know you all but it’s just a simple clash of cultures, it’s why you’re unable to cut the conversation short so rudely. Even during the apocalypse being respectful hasn’t been wiped away.

Yet.

“ hi, Spencer! “ the sugary sweet tone of Carol interrupted the interaction as she greets Spencer and yourself, the broad smile ignites her features.

Although, you know her better to know this is not one born of genuine emotion to see the man.

“ I was hoping to borrow my friend here. Rick’s looking for them. “

Recognition lights his features up, his eyes widen in understanding her words. Never have you been more thankful for the older woman than currently, if there’s one thing Carol can be, is a miracle maker. Spencer backs away with little to say, bidding a goodbye to both of you.

“ Carol, thank you. “ you breathe, your hands move up to scratch your scalp as tension eased away into the open air. “ I thought he was never going to leave. “

“ yeah, I thought you were in trouble. I thought you were ready to kill him. “

“ believe me, if he spoke for two more minutes I was coming close to getting very creative with one of those blunt dinner knives in there. “ you speak, a short giggle plummeting from your lips at the thought.

“ he’s at the gate ⏤ Rick, that is. If you want him. “

A few more words of light hearted humour are exchanged between you, just little things. You have known Carol for a long time, one of the few people to continue to see her as a human after losing Sophia, yes she was in mourning, but she was still human. You never tiptoed around her, you offered her support as best you could and for that she continues to be grateful. Even in the prison, you became closer, as time passed on she took up something of a parental role in your life. Though you were old enough at the time to not need one, you accepted it. A slice of normality granted to you for what reason you have never found out, but one you wouldn’t seek out either, for some things happen without cause or reason, a mystery of life.

Turning around a corner, you’d realised you took a wrong turn around one of the houses, your sense of direction would have been your downfall had you not found the people you now call your family. Admittedly, you’d not spent much time exploring the vast environment that is home to these large homes, you still dedicated some time to mapping all the twists and turns. However, not even that has aided you. Despite this, you find a silver lining to getting lost.. you have been able to shake off whatever blades of irritation that sorely wished to cling to your being for longer, you wanted nothing more than to approach Rick without anything that could set him off.

Though few words have been shared between you both about how you all feel about being in Alexandria, it doesn’t mean you haven’t noticed a tension building its blocks within Rick. Knowing all he has been through, you’re worried that he will reduce himself to being no more than a caged animal, biding his time to break free. It’s why you’re searching him out, a discussion is sorely needed before anything should happen, chaos has a way of trailing your family like a puppy following its master.

“ there you are. “

Rick lays his sights on you in the distance, waiting for you to move closer before saying a word. You would go so far as to say it has been one of the few instances of genuine contentment as his features relax from the lines of strain it held not even a few moments previously. Your hands move straight to your hips, standing a few metres away from him.

“ oh, you were actually looking for me? “ eyebrows raise ever so slightly, you thought Carol had been simply nudging you in his direction.

“ just to check the perimeter. “

“ and you need me for that ? “ you question him as your hands move to rest on your hips, a knowing smile lifting your expression as you observe him.

“ ‘course I do. “ Rick’s tone matches yours, it’s been a while since you’ve heard even the faintest hint of amusement associated with the intense male. It’s alien in a sense, though you’re welcoming of it.

Few words are exchanged with the Alexandrian who has been tasked with guarding the gate, exchanging the barest of information you realise as you watch Rick. You hope that even an hour outside the walls of the town is enough to soothe even the slightest of the negative energy that surrounds his being. Your situation is not perfect, and it’s inverted to what you had been experiencing previously, but you believe in your heart that this has to work. The thought of your family not being able to survive yet another bout of the outside world terrifies you to your core, the ice that is your fear erupting from your centre at the idea.

“ is there a real reason why you wanted me out here? “

“ it’s been a while since it was just us, gettin’ hard to breathe in there. “

“ Rick, you know I’m always here if you need it. I hate to see you carry everything on your shoulders the way you do. “

The hardness that had embedded itself into his face slowly eases at your words and thanks you for your support, he reaches out in between the distance that separates you to slip his fingers between yours. A comfort warms you in a way that no heat could at the action, you’re unable to stop the laugh that bursts free with a splutter. Even back on the road, and he was at his wits end, he was never this affectionate. It’s not something you hold against him though, there were many more things on his mind that required more attention.

“ somethin’ funny? “ he questions you immediately.

“ seeing this side of you, it’s just a bit weird. A good kind of weird, though. “ you assure, continuing to walk over the overgrown branches. “ you’re doing okay? Like, really? “

“ just hard to get used to. These people have just been lucky. “

You nod in understanding, it’s been your first thought every morning since walking through that gate with months of dirt and grime that had accumulated, clinging to every inch of your skin. While blood from the dead dried into your skin, becoming part of you, they lathered themselves in floral perfumes and sprays. As much as you want to allow the venom to pool within you, to form a monster born of hate ⏤ you can’t.

In this world you can’t be driven by such emotions, to aim them at innocent people. Had you been in their position, would it be such an easy position to leave this protected bubble? A piece of the previous world left untouched by the cold, ghostly grip of the dead.

“ we can’t hold it against them. “

“ they’re weak, they could get one of ours killed. “ he quietly grumbles in response, his head shaking at the thought. They’d lost too much already, and he would be damned if he lost any more members of his family, especially now they’d reached an element of safety.

“ or they might not? “ you counter his statement, your eyes pleading as you stop where you stand, your hands still connected.

“ we can’t deal in maybes, we deal in certainties. “

“ what are you suggesting, Rick? That we take over? “ you ask, your brows dropping lower. You’d seen enough death and violence to last you a lifetime, you’d had enough for now. You can’t confirm if you have enough energy for another fight. Too much has been lost.

“ if it comes to it. “

“ this is their home now, our home. They’re not bad people. “ you argue lightly, not wishing for a heated disagreement out there. Any walker around would be attracted by the noise and then the smell of the living, you’ve begun to get used to not having to slaughter walkers every day.

“ no, but they’re unprepared. “

“ so were we at some point! “ inch by inch, you close the distance. You rest your grip on his forearms, trying to calm him no matter how useless it may or may not be. “ Rick, you’re trying to create a problem. I get this is an adjustment and if anything does happen, we’ll have you back. We will fight, but for the sake of safety.. we have somewhere to actually live. “

Against his better judgement he nods, just to put a stop to the conversation. He’d wanted to spend some time alone with you that held no prying eyes from Alexandrians, nor the entertained gazes of your group.

“ let’s just see how things go, and try not to keep things bottled up. It never works out. “

“ I’m not sure you want me to share my deep, dark secrets. “ he asserts with a playful inkling hidden poorly within his words.

A smirk lines itself into your features, you’re feeling the energy from Rick and you can’t deny that it feels good. You lift your chin higher, inching your lips closer to his, the warm glow beginning to burn brighter ⏤ a silent dare in the form of a quiet whisper on your tongue. “ try me. “

#twd imagine #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes oneshot #twd oneshot #twd fic

110 notes · View notes

lune-hime · 4 years ago

Text

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 2

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?” “Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tulipa Princess Irene ~ An eye-catching tulip whose unique lavender markings on apricot petals make it unforgettable to any who gaze upon it.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

With one last glimpse in your direction, Levi followed your grandmother out of the room. Just as he was about to ascend the stairwell he was met with a gasp. Your grandmother was hunched over the railing, eyeing a suspicious piece of material.

“Is that a piece of titan skin on my mahogany railing?” She shrieked in horror, craning her neck to look at Levi who stood bewildered at the top of the stairs.

“And you got my floor all bloody.” She complained shaking her head. “Honestly, I didn’t think you would have the audacity to leave your disgusting boots on while walking through a lady’s house.”

Levi stared at her in disbelief. Is she fucking serious? Y/N was just bleeding out and she’s worried about her damned floors being dirty?

His glare remained cold and unwavering but he felt anger swell in his chest. He dug his nails into the wood of the railing and his pupils dilated. Before he had time to do anything, however, she suddenly burst out in a hearty cackle.

“Hah, gotcha. Don’t get your panties in a twist, shorty, I’m just teasing you. That was a test and you passed. Good to know you care about her health more than cleanliness. You can help me clean it up later, we are going to be spending a lot of time together after all.” Then she waddled down the stairs without sparing a single glance back. Levi was dumbfounded. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack from the combination of the lingering shock of the expedition and all the palpitations your grandmother was giving him. No amount of formal training, combat or political, could have ever prepared him to deal with this woman.

He followed behind as she scuttled through the archway to the right of the foyer. This room was the kitchen. It was open just like the rest of the house; windows decorated with cream doilies framed by dark paneled walls and a large island counter with stools in the center. The style of decor was modest but the layout screamed extravagance just like the previous rooms. Every space he entered he couldn’t help but gawk at its contents, it was far nicer than any place he had ever called home. He felt so out of place; like a poorman who had just walked into the prince’s quarters. This uncomfortable feeling kept him standing in the entrance; hand nursing his torn shoulder as another streak of red hot pain traveled up his back.

“Why are you standing there all hunched over like that? Are you sulky because you don’t get to get stitched up in a king size bed with pillows sewn with love and a cutie little nightgown? This kitchen isn’t as luxurious but I promise I’ll get the job done just the same; so get in here.”

He reluctantly entered the room and scooted into one of the stools, the metal bottoms scraping against the timbered floors as he took a seat. He rested his head on one hand while the other massaged his shoulder.

“Haven’t spent proper time with my granddaughter since walls know when and this is hardly the reunion I was imagining." Your grandmother muttered as she lit the gas burner on the iron stove. Levi watched the tiny blue flames dance into existence before settling into a warm orange.

“How long do you think she’s-” He attempted to ask, the tone of his voice rising significantly before it cracked.

“Going to be asleep?” He croaked. “By Ymir, are you going through puberty again?” She snorted and Levi’s features became icy.

“You like tea don’t you?” Levi nodded slowly. She didn’t look at him to check his response as she stood on her tiptoes to grab a glass from a higher shelf and the kettle from the side of the stove.

“Of course you do. My girl goes on and on about how it’s your life force.” She filled the kettle up with water before placing it on the burner, the stray droplets sizzling when they came in contact with the open flame.

“I’ll make you some tea with ginger root, that should help your sore throat. But for now drink some water, you sound like you’ve been huffing cannon smoke.” She filled the small glass with water and handed it to him. He gratefully accepted it and hummed in satisfaction when the cool liquid soothed the fissures in his throat.

“And to answer your question; I don’t have a damned clue. That gash on her side is beyond nasty. Her body is going to need a lot of rest to recover from all the shock, trauma, and blood loss she’s undergone.” Your grandmother placed a smaller kettle on the counter.

Levi watched as she sifted through her tea cabinet, swearing under her breath when she couldn’t find what she was looking for. For someone who was in the later years of their life she had remarkable posture. She carried herself with a confidence that retained her youth. She dressed simply, donning a long sleeved dress of a muted navy color, but aspects of her clothing reflected her wealth. Her shawl looked as if it was made out of cashmere; a commodity that not many people outside of Wall Sina had access to. She looked nothing like you, and her personality was sure as hell different. Her long silver locks were braided and wrapped into a neat bun at the top of her head. Her features were chiseled; a high brow ridge and straight nose were supported by a strong jawline. The only physical similarity you shared was your eyes. They shared the same structure, although yours were a little more almond shaped, and sparkled with the same excitement.

“Take off your shirt. Your boots, too, while you’re at it.” She commanded out of the blue, dipping a needle into a bottle of alcohol once and shaking it.

Levi was reluctant to undress, even though he knew he had to eventually. He never had any problem disrobing for the corps’ medical staff, unless it was Hange; he only let her near him if she didn’t have scissors in hand. That was story for another time. But this was your grandmother. It feltweird .

Levi hesitated at her request. She pursed her lips when she got no response.

“Relax, you’re not my type. Too short and toned. I like my men lanky-” She looked him directly in the eyes while she snipped the surgical thread.

“-so I’m able to snap them in two.”

This woman was truly an enigma. Levi’s mind couldn’t process how she could switch from sweet to salty within moments. He found himself more at a loss for words in these last few hours than he had been in his entire life. And he’s not a man of many words.

Y/N please wake up quickly . He pleaded in his mind as he unbuttoned his shirt.

He then shrugged it from his shoulders, hissing when the fabric scraped against his wound. Your grandmother came to his side and examined his exposed back. The gash stood out against his pale skin, the area surrounding it dappled with light bruising. She pressed a cold fingertips to the area, goosebumps freckling his skin in response.

“One of those big nasties barely grazed ya, if your position had been a couple centimeters to the right you probably wouldn’t have a spinal cord.” She mused, threading the needle through the surgical thread. What lovely images your grandmother painted with her words.

She dabbed a washcloth in the alcohol and began ridding Levi’s gash of the dirt and dried blood. His features contorted when the stinging liquid met his skin. Her cleaning was abruptly halted with the shrill scream of the kettle filled the room.

“Oh! The tea is finished.” She squealed, leaving her place at Levi’s side to take it off the burner. She then appeared before him and pushed the mug into his empty hands. The hot spice of the liquid hurt his chapped lips as he drank. But damn did it feel good. His whole body was blanketed in a serene numbing.

“Alrighty-you want the belt? You shouldn’t need it, though, it's not that deep.” She offered. Levi shook his head and took another sip of the tea.

“Okay, ready shorty?” She asked, pressing her hands to his back.

“Yeah.” He replied breathily, relaxing his muscles in preparation. Then Levi felt a pinch, followed by a tug, and then a dull burning as she weaved the needle in and out of his skin.

“So is my tea up to par with what you drink back at headquarters?” She spoke up after a moment.

“It’s good.”

“Just good?” She huffed and gave him a ginger slap on the shoulder.

I’m glad Y/N didn’t inherit her personality. She’s too fucking much to deal with.

“Hmm what was that?” She pulled the needle just a little too hard for Levi’s liking. He gasped and sucked a breath inward.

“I didn’t say anything.” He winced, gritting his teeth as she entered a particularly tender area.

“Now you’re starting to sound normal. You have a sexy voice, I see why Y/N likes you.” She cackled into his ear. Levi faltered and coughed, tea burning his throat as it entered the wrong airway. She took so much enjoyment in tormenting him and all this relentless teasing was going to push him past his breaking point.

“Why don’t you tell me a story to pass the time? Although your wound isn’t deep, it’s going to take me a little while to get it all cleaned up.”

“I don’t know any stories.” He responded blandly.

“I didn’t mean tell me a bedtime story. I wanna know about you and Y/N. That way I can get to know the person who is courting my granddaughter.”

She let the request sink in before speaking again.

“How did the two of you meet?”

“Officially?”

She hummed in agreement.

“She was delivering paperwork for me and she knocked over a box of my tea.” Levi explained, a small smile dancing across his lips. Your grandmother let out an artificial gasp and Levi clicked his tongue.

“Clumsy girl.” She chuckled, pulling the thread taut.

↞♞♘↠

Stop being nervous, Y/N, you’re just dropping off some papers and then you can leave right after. Your hands on the stack of parchment felt clammy and you picked the edges of the paper uneasily with your fingers.

Confident and assertive. That’s what your grandmother told you to be before you enlisted in the corps. However you found it difficult to live up to these words as the recipient of these important documents scared the absolute living hell out of you. You had had minimal interactions with him, and all of them unpleasant. It didn't help either that the horror stories you had heard from other cadets made your skin crawl. Surely he couldn’t be that bad though, right? After all, your cousin was constantly in his presence and they weren’t scared of him.

As long as you look like you can kick someone’s ass, you can. You repeated another one of your grandmother’s mantras in your head as you knocked on the large wooden door with a firm hand.

Nothing.

You knocked again, this time slightly louder, and abruptly drew into yourself as you awaited a response. Nothing.

Maybe he’s out? You thought, contemplating coming back later. You waved the idea off, however, as your squad leader had told you to meet them back at the training grounds immediately after you dropped the papers off. And they intimidated you too, although not to the extent of the Captain. You began to get jittery as you tried to think of the best thing to do.

Maybe the door is unlocked? I’ll just sneak in, drop the papers on his desk and run out. If he blames someone for breaking into his office he can blame Squad Leader. The plan seemed foolproof in your mind.

Wrapping your hand around the door knob you hesitantly turned it clockwise. A crisp click broke the tense silence, signaling that the door was indeed unlocked. To your delight you pushed it forward cautiously, the wood creaking painfully loud as you did so.

Before entering the vacant quarters you poked your head in and scanned any visible inch for tiny officer before calling out. Yet again you were met with silence. You swiftly padded to his desk and stacked the parchment neatly in the middle, taking caution not to knock over the inkwell or misplace any other of the contents of the table. Fighting against your conscience, you found it irresistible not to to look at the contents of the office. You were already in here, and if the universe was on your side, would never have to come back here again. Despite your fear for the man, you harbored an immense curiosity for him. Everything about him was shrouded in mystery; from his childhood to his enlistment to even just his favorite book. So, while you were here why not just have a quick look and then be gone?

Only the main room, though. You thought, gaze falling on the door to his private quarters. If he found you in there you would surely be skinned alive.

Your eyes floated from the bare and spotless walls to the velvety fuchsia victorian couch, to the brick fireplace, and finally to a small distinctive box on what you presumed to be his tea cabinet. You gasped in surprise, stepping closer to get a better view. It sat right next to a beautifully painted porcelain teapot among other boxes of tea in his collection. The tin was very familiar to you; your grandmother’s favorite tea. The box depicted a beautifully intricate war ship, its sails open to the wind and bow wet with the crashing waves. It was like laying eyes on an old childhood friend and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Oi Cad-” A low voice broke the stillness of the room, causing you to squeak and slap the box of tea right off the shelf. It’s top fell off with a pop and the ground tea leaves scattered across the floor. You stood there, mouth agape, frozen in fear. Maybe if you didn’t move you could dissolve through the floorboards and fade into another dimension.

“What. The. Fuck ?” He seethed, though his composure and expression remained devoid of emotion. His words made you shiver and you shakily straightened up.

“I-Captain I’m so, so so sorry. I came to deliver these documents because Squad Leader said that they were very important so it felt weird holding onto them for such a long time and then I saw this tea that I used to drink as a child and I swear I wasn’t trying to take it and then you startled me-”

“Just-stop.” The Captain held one arm out while the other rubbed his forehead in frustration. He looked like he was trying to collect himself. You sucked in a breath and awaited for your imminent death. Although it didn’t come as swiftly as you had presumed, and in a last ditch effort to redeem yourself in whatever way you could you spoke up.

“Let me clean it up, please!” You pleaded, your hands clasped together in front of you.

The Captain removed his hand to look at you and nodded his head in approval. When you made eye contact it felt like your soul was about to climb out of your body. You exhaled the breath you had been holding and picked up the tin and neatly placed it back on the shelf. Meanwhile, the captain had fetched a broom and a dustpan from the closet. You gratefully took them.

As you started to sweep the pellets of tea into a pile the captain took a seat at his desk, sinking into the chair with a tired exhale. He grabbed the top document and read it over, still expressionless. He mumbled fucking request forms when you swept the last pebble of tea into the dustpan. Rising, you moved to the corner of the desk to dispose of them in the trash can.

“Um, these go in there?” You asked, pointing towards the closet and the captain grunted in affirmation. It looked like he had gotten over his initial anger which eased your beating heart.

“Why were you touching my tea in the first place? Trying to steal it, Cadet?” His sudden comment caught you off guard, the dustpan fumbling in your fingers.

“N-No not at all! I was just admiring, I swear. It’s my grandmother’s favorite I just wanted to take a closer look…” You trailed off as you placed it neatly in the closet, shutting the door. He looked at you, his features set in stone so you couldn’t gage his reaction. You wondered how he would look with emotions. You weren’t going to stick around to find out.

His brows were so furrowed that they almost met his metallic eyes. His intensity made your intestines twist around each other.

"I-if you need me to I promise I can report for extra cleaning duty if my squad lea-"

"I know who you are. That won't be necessary." He interjected. You felt like a cow being sized up by its butcher.

"You...you do?" You asked tentatively. The moment the words left your mouth you felt like an utter dunce for questioning him. You hoped it was from your familial connection rather than your training slip ups.

The captain nodded once.

"You started working with Hange recently." He stated, his tone running along a flat plateau.

“Yes sir. I am from the 104th class, so technically I’m still in training. But I started apprenticing with Squad Leader last week.” You had gone into training with your childhood friend, but had graduated more quickly than others in your training group because of your extensive knowledge of life systems and quick mastering of combat training. What still held you back, though, was maneuvering the 3DMG gear. You just didn't understand how someone was supposed to stay in the air for longer than five seconds. So, in that aspect you still had a lot more training to complete. But when Hange caught wind of you she practically captured you and took you in as her apprentice.

“So you’re the brat the two of them been going on and on about?” His quizzical behavior set you on edge. One wrong answer and you would be sent to the slaughterhouse.

“Y-yes I guess. Before enlisting I was training with a biologist.” He made that grunting noise again and nodded once more. He really was a man of little words.

“Well sir, if you don’t need me for anything else I’ll be taking my leave. I’m sorry again I spilled your tea.” He didn’t say anything, just nodded again.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you!” You proclaimed, forming the best salute you could muster and turning to exit the premises.

‘Cadet Y/N.” He called, stopping you before you could depart. The hairs on the back of your neck as he proved he had knowledge of your name.

“Yes sir?” You stood awkwardly and awaited his response.

"Don't come snooping in my office again." He ordered sternly before shooing you gently with his hand.

↞♞♘↠

“So she was scared of you at first? Hah, what a softy. I see why though, the first thing you said to her included the word fuck. Not exactly smooth or inviting.” Your grandmother's words were harsh but they held a tone of endearment to them.

“Alrighty that lil’ scratch is all closed up now!” She declared proudly, leaning back and admiring her handy work. Levi stretched his back and ran his shoulder in circles to get some movement back into his stiff joints.

“Thank you.”

She smiled softly, the wrinkles under her eyes crinkling. She then turned her attention to the stove to begin preparing dinner. As Levi continued to stretch, a sudden, pressing problem he forgotten about popped into his mind.

‘Ah!” Levi gasped in recollection.

“‘Ah!’ what?” She mocked his surprised comment, not taking her gaze away from chopping onions.

“The horse.” He said frazzled with his gaze fixed on the front door. He shot up, ignoring the screaming protests by his shoulder, and was about to grasp the brass doorknob before your grandmother cleared her throat.

“A little eager aren’t we, Mr. Shirtless? You planning on flashing my neighbors?” She chimed throwing him his shirt with a playful smirk. Levi felt heat on his cheeks and averted her gaze.

“The stable is out back behind the shed.” She yelled from the kitchen as Levi slipped on his boots with haste. Buttoning the dirtied fabric he didn’t bother to tuck it into his trousers as he padded down the stairs to search the property for your horse. With the day coming to an end the landscape before him looked like something out of a postcard; birds fluttering about returning to their nests, the evening sunlight breathing warmth onto the flower fields. He would have never expected a place so idyllic existed within Wall Rose. He envisioned settling down with you at a place like this once this hell was over.

As expected, your horse wasn’t in the place you had left him. Levi puffed his cheeks and lazily looked around for the shed. He vouched to start from the left side of the house. He rotated his shoulder blades, feeling the tightness of the stitches and cracked in his neck. When he reached the side of the house the shed your grandmother had been talking about came into view. It looked more like a house than a shed to Levi as it was even bigger than most houses in the underground. A glorified shed indeed; freshly painted, nothing hanging off the sides and no equipment haphazardly strewn around the base.

“Alright you little shit where are you?”

Walking aimlessly around the shed proved fruitful, as peeking out from one side of the grand structure was movement. Approaching carefully he rounded the corner of the building to find what he was looking for. Your horse stood with his back towards him but sluggishly looked his way upon sensing his presence.

He looked awful. Dried blood caked of his cobalt coat and scratches littered his body, exposing the surface of his skin. His muscular neck hung low and he was favoring one of his back legs, hoof resting just above the ground. Levi felt bad for him.

“Damn you look fucking horrible.” He said aloud, looking him up and down.

Your horse snorted and glared back.

“What? You do.” He answered, instantly cringing after. He couldn’t believe he was talking to a horse. You did it all the time, however. You even claimed that he understood you on a spiritual level , but Levi thought it was just bunch of, well, horse shit.

Did he have a surprise concussion he didn’t remember getting? Did he have a hallucinogenic fever making him inclined to speak to animals? Placing the back of his palm on his forehead, he checked his temperature. No heat, just clammy.

As he closed the distance between the two your horse didn’t make a run for it like he usually did. He really is in bad shape if he isn't running.

Levi grabbed the grimy reins just below your horse’s chin and lightly tugged. He almost tripped over his boots at the sudden lack of movement. Whipping his head around he saw your horse hadn’t moved at all. His shoulder started to sting again.

“Let’s go.” He commanded, giving the reins one more small tug.

No movement. Even in his injured state the horse was still a pain in the ass.

He tugged more firmly, even clicking his tongue a couple times.

Nothing.

Levi then began stepping backwards slowly, pulling the reins as he did so. Your horse followed him with his head until he had stretched his neck as far as he could go without moving. Although Levi affectionately referred to him as a little shit, your horse was in fact a large shit. He was one of the largest horses within the Survey Corps which also made him very troublesome to move. And Levi realized that no amount of pulling was going to get him to budge.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. He was about to do it again.

“I know your favorite person isn’t here right now but, please? Y/N would want you to be someplace safe and cleaned up.” He blankly stared into its amber eyes and it stared right back.

When Levi tugged again, he slowly began to follow.

“Are you fucking serious.” He rolled his eyes and headed towards the stable.

↞♞♘↠

“Squad Leader I messed up, literally.” Your opening statement had the woman slightly worried, but mostly intrigued.

“Y/N. For the fiftieth time I told you to call me Hange, just Hange.” She responded cheerfully before laying eyes on your nervous form. She quirked an eyebrow and gestured to the lounge chair slightly to the left of her desk. You sank into it and let out a shaky breath before explaining the situation. Throughout the story, Hange had to stifle her laughter which caused your frown to deepen.

“That’s the most excitement shorty has gotten in a while.” She giggled, the severity of the situation going completely over her head. You curled up and groaned, placing your head in your hands.

“Aw, Y/N don’t be upset. You messed up and you apologized, that’s all you could have done. It’s not like shorty is going to kill you or anything.” She came to the back of the lounge chair and enveloped you in a hug.

“He does love his tea though…” She trailed off, cocking her head in contemplation. You let out a muffled cry and wiggled in her grasp.

“Ah-no I didn’t mean to stress you out! In all seriousness nothing bad will happen to you, I’ll see to that. You know how many brats annoy him on the daily? You are just another one of those cadets to him at most.” She reassured, rubbing your shoulders gently. She lowered her voice and matched his tone perfectly when she imitated his favorite insult. A little bubble of laughter rose from your chest.

“But if it’s really bothering you-” She gave your shoulders one last squeeze before returning to her desk. “You could buy him some more. Only if you can afford it, that is.”

You would have to use up a significant amount of this month's savings, because from experience you knew that stuff was not the cheapest, but if it meant that you wouldn’t suffer a lifetime of torture it would be a worthwhile monetary sacrifice.

↞♞♘↠

Levi led your horse into the stable, passing your grandmother’s other horses before stopping at an empty stall and placing him inside. He gingerly removed his saddle and bridle, careful not to nick any exposed skin.

I have my work cut out for me. He rolled up the fabric of his shirt up to his elbows before gathering the grooming supplies. Levi brushed out as much of the dried bits of blood as he could, sponged him down with warm water, and finished with bandaging the tender area just above his back hoof. The last part was particularly hard on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

He evaluated the equine's condition from head to hoof. Levi had cleaned him up to the best of his abilities and resolved that there was nothing more he could do at the moment. He ran his hand along his neck, giving his coarse pelt a few long strokes, before stepping out of the stall and locking the stable door.

“Good night, little shit. Don’t even think about unlocking that door.”

↞♞♘↠

A few days after the tea incident you had decided to go into town to try to find a new tin. At dinner the previous night, Mikasa had offered to accompany you to help you find a replacement. Besides Hange, she was the only other person who knew of the event. As insignificant as spilling tea was compared to the other stories told by your fellow cadets you still didn't want your mishap spreading around. If your best friend knew about your little mistake you knew you were in for a life of relentless teasing. Not that you didn't already experience that, but you didn't want it going around that you had gotten on the Captain's bad side.

Mikasa had sworn to keep it on the down low, and you were grateful to her for that. The two of you had grown quite close in training as both of you excelled at hand to hand combat. From constantly training together you quickly found out the two of you had much in common and that you got along extremely well. Plus you were happy to have another girl around with all the testosterone floating about the 104th class. Mikasa and you had both grown up around boys, and even though you loved them, albeit them being idiots, it was refreshing to have other friends that were girls. Eren and Armin were attatched to her at the hip so you became more friendly with them as well.

“Hey ugly.” An upbeat voice called in your direction.

“Hey horse-face.” You shot back, looking up from your place at the fence.

“Please don’t start calling me that too. If you do, it will stick for sure.” Jean whined, crossing his arms.

“I’ll stop calling you that when you stop calling me ugly.” You teased, sticking your tongue out at the taller boy. Jean huffed in annoyance but smiled when you tried to hit him.

“You actually look nice today, all jokes aside. Got a date today?” He wiggled his eyebrows and leaned in closer to playfully look you in the eyes. Shoving him away you clicked your tongue.

You had in fact traded in your regular street clothes for something a little fancier, yet still casual. You donned a soft yellow sundress that made you feel less sweaty in the summer heat, pulled some of your short hair into a braid and had put on a ghosting of makeup. It had been awhile since you had the opportunity to dress up, so even if this was just going into town you wanted to take that chance to feel not dirty and grimy like you did during training.

“Would you believe it if I told you that I got all pretty for you, Jeanie~” You cooed, sticking out your bottom lip and looking up at him from under your lashes. Jean gagged in an exaggerated manner and mouthed a yuck before you started playfully kicking him.

“Uhm-guys?” A timid voice piped up, causing both you and Jean to stop mid limb-throwing to stare at the source of the sound.

“Ah! Hey Armin, Mikasa!” You instantly collected yourself and smiled brightly.

“By all means, don’t stop fighting. It was just getting good.” Mikasa added, a small smirk on her features. You abruptly disentangled yourself from Jean and placed your hair back in its position.

“Eren’s not coming?” You tilted your head in confusion. This trip into town was supposed to be the four of you until Jean insisted on joining.

It’s actually better off he’s not coming otherwise those two would be down each other's throats the entire time. You eyed Jean who was fiddling with his shirt.

Armin shook his head before explaining. “No, he has special training with the Captain.” The Captain. His name was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Horse-face is coming with us into town?” Mikasa asked flatly. You nodded and Jean looked at her with minor offense.

“Yeah, he begged to come along. That’s how much I mean to him.” You linked your arm with his and gripped his forearm hard, cozying up to his side.

“N-no it’s not like that at all.” He stuttered, blush alight on his cheeks. He desperately tried to maneuver out of your grasp but you kept him hanging off your arm like a limp noodle. Armin laughed nervously and Mikasa flashed an amused smile. The way you manhandled Jean was quite an amusing sight.

“Please put up with him for a few hours for me; I had to tolerate him all throughout my childhood.” You pleaded, tugging on his arm causing his balance to falter in your direction.

The nearest town was within walking distance. You and Jean strolled side by side a few paces behind the other two in your party down the main street. Armin’s enthusiastic chattering could faintly be heard from your position. Jean, however, was the total opposite of Armin, and had begun sulking since you had embarrassed him earlier. He would not stop pouting, so you nudged him in the ribcage to snap him out of his pity party. He yelped in surprise and shot you a dirty look.

“Look I’m sorry for teasing you in front of her earlier.” You apologized, poking him on the arm. He gave you a confident smirk, which you knew as the start of his suave act, cool boy act.

“Pft- you mean Mikasa? I don’t care what she thinks.” He responded all too nonchalantly. You deadpanned. If your best friend was proficient in anything it was bullshit.

“You’ve been staring at her this whole time.” You commented, your companion’s confident facade faltering.

“Huh? I’m just walking.”

“I may be ugly but I’m not dumb, dumbass.” You snorted. “I know you like her, but there are no signs pointing towards she’s interested. You might as well date Marco.”

Jean swallowed wrong and began to have a coughing fit. Your firm pats on his upper back only worsened his condition.

“W-what? Why would I date him?” He gasped and jerked his head in your direction.

You were about to explain when Mikasa suddenly stopped.

“We’re here.” She called out. Jean and Armin looked towards the painted sign of the tea shop in confusion.

“We came all the way out here to get tea?” Jean questioned, unamused and still trying to recover from his coughing fit.

“You know how much I love tea.” You trilled. You made an attempt to ruffle his hair but he batted you away.

“Since you think it's lame you and Armin can go somewhere cooler, like the book store or something.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Mikasa interjected, sending an apologetic look towards Armin before shuffling you into the shop.

“Jean don’t be a dick, please!” You called out before disappearing into the shop.

It was a humble store stocked with countless varieties of tea and various kitchen wares. It was also the only shop that sold tea in this small town, so if they didn’t have the type you were looking for you were screwed. The two of you split up in search for the tea, but your searches came up empty as you scanned every display in sight.

“Is this it?” Mikasa asked, holding up a similar looking container. You shook your head, feeling defeat set in. A small man appeared in your peripheral vision.

“Excuse me, madam, is there something I can help you find?” His hands were clasped together neatly at his front and he wore a wide smile that was barely visible underneath his graying mustache.

“A-ah yes. Do you have Queen Mary tea?” Your question seemed to light up his eyes.

“Oh yes! Quite and aromatic and rich tea, isn't it?” He beamed, leading you to a display where familiar tins were expertly stacked along one of the top shelves. The anxieties that had plagued you for the past few days were all swept away when you saw that little warship. Thanking the employee, you purchased two tins, one for the Captain and one for your grandmother.

“Let’s hope this will set me in the clear.” You said with slight apprehension. Mikasa silently placed a hand on your shoulder as you left the shop and made your way down the cobblestone street.

↞♞♘↠

Upon Levi’s return to the house the sun had set and the moon was already creeping up the sky.

“Why did you take so long?” Your grandmother prodded as if she were interrogating her teenage son.

“He was hiding.” Levi explained as he shoved his boots off his feet.

“...the horse?” She questioned, eyebrow raised. Levi nodded in conformation, plopping rather ungracefully onto one of the kitchen stools. She shook her head in disbelief but didn’t pry any further.

“Here, eat up.” She said, sliding a plate across the table. Bratwurst dressed with sauerkraut and two slices of buttered bread on blue china laid before him. His mouth must have been visibly watering because she puffed with laughter.

“When you’re done please go to bed. You look like shit, bet you feel like it too.” She cackled. There was a small piece of Levi that was beginning to find her dryness endearing.

“Thank you.” He expressed his gratitude before digging into the food. She grunted in response.

“Well-I’ll quit bothering you tonight. The two of you almost made it to Valhalla today so you deserve a full night’s sleep.” She stifled the flames on the stove and took her leave but not before stopping in the doorway.

“I’m going to go check on her again before heading off to bed myself. I’ve prepared one of the guest rooms for you, it’s the last door on the left.” Levi looked up mid bite of his sausage and swallowed before speaking.

“Thank you.”

“Sheesh is that all you know how to say?” She turned back once more in the entryway with a warm smile.

“Eat quickly and get some sleep, otherwise you won’t grow any taller.” Her barking laughter bounced off the walls and harmonized with the creaking of the stairs as she ascended them.

After he finished his meal he went to check on you again. Your condition looked the same; gentle limps strewn across lavender silk and color flushed from your complexion. He slowly pulled the covers up to reveal your bandaged torso. An opaque layer of red rested beneath the layers of gauze, meaning you were still bleeding through the stitches. The hand he used to place the covers over you once more moved to rest against your cheek. He had some false hope in his head that you would react to his touch, but you laid still as ever. Levi prayed you were sleeping as blissfully as you looked, that your peaceful expressions and steady breaths didn’t hold a secret sea of turmoil behind them. He placed a loving kiss to your forehead and reluctantly drew away from you.

He initially thought he would have trouble sleeping, both from his unconventional sleeping habits and the earlier events, but when his head hit the downed pillow the mattress absorbed all the tension in his muscles. His eyes instantly fluttered shut and Levi was engulfed in a tranquil darkness that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. The last thing he heard before he was washed into the the void was that melodious laughter of yours.

↞♞♘↠

Okay, Y/N you can really do it now. He’s positively in there this time.

So after returning from town, here you stood at the climax of your tea saga. The freshly brewed kettle shook with the small tremors of your hands and the cream almost spilled as they gripped the edges of the tray.You attempted to form a determined visage before knocking twice with your foot.

Confident and assertive. Confident and assertive. Confiden-

“Name and business.” Oh god this is actually happening. The situation had manifested from hypothetical to real in a matter of a few words.

“Cadet Y/N, sir.” You specified, eyes locked on the chipping varnish of the door.

“Come in.” A voice with the richness and texture of red wine answered.

It was then you fully realized how preoccupied your hands were and began fumbling to open the door. The Captain heard a symphony of clanking and thudding and rose to his feet.

The next thing you knew the door was being swung open, causing you to falter and barely stop the tray from tumbling from your hold. The Captain regarded you with his usual unwavering expression. His inability to change facial expressions sent you spiraling further into a world of nerves. He said nothing as you straightened yourself up.

“Good evening, Captain.” Meeting his gaze, you smiled. You hoped it looked natural but to your superior you just looked constipated.

“I wanted to apologize again for what happened two days ago, sir.” You started, adjusting the grip on the tray. The Captain’s metallic features dropped from your face to the contents of your hands.

“So I bought you more tea as a replacement, and I brewed a fresh pot for you. Squad Leader said you usually drink tea in the mornings and evenings, and I had to train this morning so I decided this was the best time…” You trailed off towards the end of your speech, remembering how he silenced your rambling before.

The Captain didn’t know how to react. No brat, nor anyone for that matter, had ever gone to this length over something so simple as spilling a sachet of tea. Sure he was annoyed when it happened, but never did he expect you to purchase a whole new tin for him. He new tea was not an affordable commodity, especially this brand. He was the tiniest bit touched.

“You bought this?” He asked, hints of shock evident in his voice. He gestured to the box and you nodded rapidly.

“Yes, sir. I bought you a new tin. I hope you don’t mind I placed some of the bags in the kitchen.”

“That’s fine.” He confirmed. Suddenly the tray was being pushed into his chest. Taken aback he moved backwards slightly.

“Please take it as compensation for the trouble I caused.” You requested, your outstretched arms voicelessly asking him to accept your gift. You waited expectantly for him to relieve you of the tea. When he performed no such action you gulped.

“Place it on my desk.” He instructed, nodding his head in the direction of his work space.

“O-oh yes sir!”

He stepped aside to let you scurry over to the desk. Once you set the tray down you saluted him and made your way back to the door. Before you could dismiss yourself the guttural clearing of his throat stopped you dead in your tracks.

“I did not dismiss you, Cadet.”

Rather than butterflies, bats began swarming in the pit of your stomach. They screeched at your nerves and their leathery wings pricked the inside of your skin. Your head explored all of the terrifying scenarios that could come after that phrase. Thankfully you had an overactive imagination.

“Do you know where Squad Leader Mike’s office is?” He questioned, lifeless eyes boring through your chest. You nodded timidly.

“Go give these to him. When you come back, you don’t need to knock.”

Upon your return after a refreshingly brief encounter with Mike you found the Captain totally immersed in the tea. His eyes were closed, breaths rising from deep in his chest, and a smoothness to his features. If you were not completely petrified by his demeanor, you fancied you would have found him quite handsome.

Handing him the documents Mike had traded for the ones you gave him earlier, you made your second attempt to escape from the Captain’s clutches.

“Cadet.” He called just as your fingers brushed the doorknob.

“Yes, sir?”

“Thank you.”

Your eyes went wide and the bats transformed into butterflies, flitting about in a less chaotic manner.

“A-ah yes, of course sir!” You saluted in one fluid and exaggerated motion. He clicked his tongue and waved your salute off. A short silence fell upon the room that caused you to fiddle with the hems of your sleeves. Levi regarded you with unfeeling eyes, yet beneath them your sweet appearance made his chest clench. Just as you were curious about him, a strange interest in you had blossomed within him.

“Do you need anything else sir?” You offered as he rose from his seat to grab two tea cups from the cabinet.

“Sit.” He instructed, his command firm but no hint of authority in his tone.

“P-Pardon, sir?”

“Sit.” He pointed towards one of the chairs in the corner. You brought it over and seated yourself on the opposite side of the desk. The inside of your body felt as if it was filling with iron, making you feel heavy as you awkwardly awaited his next move. The air was painfully thick between the two of you, if you had let out a large breath it would have solidified within seconds.

“Tell me, how do you make it?” He asked, his words thinning the air. His visage remained focused on preparing the tea, a meager knit of the eyebrows the only movement on his face.

“Pardon, sir?”

“The tea. It’s very good.” The butterflies crept back into your bloodstream. Did he just compliment you?

“Thank you, sir!” You exhaled with a smile, extremely relieved that he was satisfied with your repentance.

The Captain then poured the dark liquid into your cup. He handled the teapot with such a delicacy that contrasted his stark disposition; thin, pallid fingers caressed porcelain while acute ashen eyes supervised.

“Sugar?” He asked, his attention still fully on the tea.

“Yes, please.”

“Cream?”

“No, thank you.”

A tap tap of the steel spoon against the rim of the cup was followed by a soft thank you as he pushed the vessel towards you.

“I add a bit of honey to the tea leaves to give it sweetness. Black tea tends to be bitter on its own.” You answered his earlier question, taking a small sip, cautious not to slurp. Instantly the metal oxidized from your body and was replaced with air.

“Interesting. Where did you learn that?” He lilted, adding a stingy amount of cream to his cup.

“I learned how to make and serve tea when I was young. My family is acquainted with some affluent individuals.” Your thumbs traced patterns on the surface of your teacup.

“Affluent, huh?”

“Yes, sir. A bunch of snobby assholes if you ask me.” Your face turned a ghostly pale before flushing bright red. Just when you were nearing the top of the whole you had dug yourself into you had fallen right back in.

“P-pardon my language, sir! I had no intention of speaking vulgarly.” You covered your mouth with your hands, mortified by your tone of speech.

The captain huffed. It was sound that came deep from his chest that made his eyes crinkle slightly and the corner of his lips twitch upward. It was a sound that made your butterflies flit about and generate a lovely fuzzy feeling with each wing beat.

Maybe your Captain wasn’t as scary as you had originally thought.

#levi #levi x reader #LEVI ACKERMAN #levi heichou #attack on titan #Attack on titan fandom #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #levi fanfiction #hange zoe #petra ral #levi/reader #AoT #snk #snk x reader #jean kirschstein #bisexual jean

107 notes · View notes

eideticmemory · 5 years ago

Text

EVER SINCE NEW YORK | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 1! - for Sara [@bravadostyles], the ultimate muse.

SOUNDTRACK:

Empire State of Mind - Jay Z.

Animals - Maroon 5.

Dopamine - Børns.

Word Count: 4,731.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Spring, Freshman Year.

Tisch School of the Arts,

New York University.

New York City.

“You’ve got that face on,” Claire said.

“What face is that, Claire?”

“Your trademark ready-to-go-home face,” she giggled. “You tired?”

“Just a little,” you whispered, head resting on her shoulder, feet hanging off the bed. “Had a long day at rehearsal.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “Well, if you wanna go, we can go. I’ll walk you home.”

“No,” you shook your head, and placed your hand on her arm. “It’s fine. I’m having a good time.”

Soft music played through the small speakers on Jonathan’s desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone sat in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on John’s bed, and you and Claire rested on his roommate’s bed. Open solo cups of beer were scattered amongst the room. It was calm, chill, and then the door swung open.

“Yoooooo!” The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Johnathan, who hopped off his bed and ran towards the entrance.

“Gube!” John exclaimed, arms open wide to embrace his friend. He always got a little touchy-feely when he was tipsy. “Where the hell you been, man?”

“Consider my good time ruined,” you murmured to Claire.

“Be nice, [y/n],” she responded, patting your leg. “Everyone’s having a nice time, don’t start anything.”

“Me? Me? I don’t start anything, I never start anything. It’s him who starts it. That di—“

“Hey, [y/n],” Matthew greeted, taking a seat beside John. “Hey, Claire.”

“Hey, Gube,” Claire smiled. She gave you a gentle nudge with her elbow.

You rolled your eyes, “Hi, Matthew,” you reluctantly replied, refusing to make eye contact.

“Aw, c’mon, that’s all I get?” Matthew teased. “What’s wrong, sleeping beauty? You tired?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you told him, finally looking over at him. He wore a white polo, paired with a busted pair of jeans and white converse with his mismatched socks poking out. On his chest sat his trademark gold chain, the medallion set in the center of his sternum.

“Might be past your bedtime,” he shrugged. “Really. Might be better if you just left.”

“Me?” You scoffed. “Why don’t you leave? We were perfectly fine before you got here.”

“Oh, God,” someone groaned. “Here they go.”

“John wants me here. I’m a little more fun than someone who falls asleep mid-conversation, so I can see why.”

“Matthew, why are you talking to me? Can you just pretend,” you waved your arms around. “Pretend there’s a wall here.”

“Don’t mind her,” Claire interjected. “She’s crabby because she hasn’t started editing her project yet.”

You gasped, “Why would you just announce that, Claire? I didn’t wanna be reminded of that.”

“[y/n], you’re gonna be fucked if you don’t get that shit done. It’s due next week.” Another friend told you.

You groaned, “Yes. I know that. But I’ve been killing myself practicing for the show every night. And when I finally sat down to start editing, I didn’t know how to work the damn software!”

“You don’t know how to work EasyEdit?”

“No,” you sighed. “I missed class that day. I tried to learn on YouTube, and that confused me even more. So, I have since then given up.”

“Hm,” John hummed. “You know who’s really good with EasyEdit?”

“Who?”

“Gube,” John answered. This prompted Matthew to lift his head up at astronomical speed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He taught me how to use it. He could help you, [y/n].”

“John...” Claire said.

“What, Claire?” John replied. “[y/n] needs help and Gube can help. I’m just saying.”

You cut your eyes over to Matthew, who was watching you, but he quickly turned away when you made eye contact.

“You’re not clever,” Claire shook her head. “You’re nosey is what you are.”

“Nosey?” You pipped, tapping Claire’s arm. “What do you mean nosey?”

“I mean, if you and Gube just...” John said. “I’m gonna say it - fucked - one good time, the two of you could get over this whole rivalry already.”

“And stop arguing all the damn time,” someone added. “The shit’s annoying.”

Your jaw had been dropped since the word ‘fucked’ was uttered. You looked up at Claire who gave you a sympathetic smile.

“I-“ You stuttered. “I...never say that again, John! Ever. Ew!”

“Ew?” Matthew exclaimed. “You’d be lucky if I tossed you a bone.”

Your jaw dropped even lower, stunned by Matthew’s words. “You arrogant son of a bitch,” you muttered. “And this is who you want me to allow near my final project?” You directed at John.

“Hey, if you don’t wanna fuck me, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Matthew taunted, biting his lip and tilting his head.

“No. I don’t wanna fuck you! I also don’t want to spend any more time with you than I absolutely have to. So I will learn EasyEdit by myself.”

“Okay,” Matthew shrugged. “You’re not gonna figure that shit out in time, but fine, princess. Be stubborn.”

You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head in annoyance.

“[y/n], let Gube help,” Claire said. “You’re gonna drive yourself insane with that and the show coming up, plus finals? Just this once.”

You looked over at Matthew, instantly getting angry again. Hate is a strong word. It’s a very, very strong word. And you’d never use it against anybody. Ever. Except Matthew Gubler. That may sound a bit dramatic, so to clear up any confusion, here’s a composite list of every asshole, dick, bastard, bitch-ass move he’s made in one semester:

1. Broke your editing equipment trying to do magic tricks in class.

2. Didn’t apologize.

3. Called your last documentary “uninspired, dry, a little like a lullaby.”

4. Took the last spot for an internship over Christmas break.

5. Which he knew you wanted.

6. Refused to partner with you on a final project because “you can’t even get to class everyday.”

7. In front of everyone because he’s a jackass.

8. Told you that you were insane for majoring in film making AND ballet.

9. Proceeded to tell you that you look better in a leotard than a suit.

10. Fucked your roommate.

11. While you were in the room.

12. Insisted that Wes Craven is a better horror director than Tim Burton? Is he dumb?

13. Calls you ballerina barbie, short stack, princess, anything other than your actual name.

14. Won’t drop dead.

And, because you’re not going to let anyone treat you that way, here’s a list of things you’ve done in retaliation:

1. “Accidentally” stepped on his canvas.

2. 3 times.

3. Uploaded a video of you calling him a dick in place of his documentary.

4. Yes, he did play it for the class on accident.

5. Told him you didn’t want to be his partner anyway since he walks around stoned 24/7.

6. Laughed.

7. Told him he’d be a good ballerina. His tiny dick would fit perfectly in a leotard.

8. Fucked his friend. While said friend was supposed to help Matthew with his project.

9. Told him none of Edgar Allan Poe’s work was actually interesting enough for screen time. (He almost passed out, he got so mad.)

10. Told him his mismatch socks were dumb.

11. Consistently call him asshole, dick, jackass, or just Matthew. All synonyms.

12. Refuse to let him mess with you.

So, the idea of him helping you with your project, coming into your room, bothering you for hours on end, was a ridiculous thought. You should punch John for even mentioning it. Except. It wasn’t a bad idea.

“Hey, pants stay on,” Matthew said, giving you a smirk. “Boy Scouts honor.”

Everyone was looking at you. It made you queasy. Annoyed. Angry. And you couldn’t take it. So, you sighed heavily and cut your eyes towards Matthew. “Fine,” you grimaced. “Fine. Monday night. You will teach me how to use EasyEdit. And then we can all drop this.”

“Ah, success,” John cheered. “I’m not worried, though. Look at [y/n], she’s so innocent. She looks like she belongs on top of a Christmas tree. She does ballet for crying out loud. I doubt fucking is on her to-do list.”

“And on that note,” you pushed yourself off the bed. “I’m going to my room. Goodnight.”

Your room was just down the hall, and you showered, changed, brushed your teeth and got into bed in all of 30 minutes. Just about to fall asleep, you were disturbed by the sound of keys jingling in the door. Sloppy footsteps stumbled into the room, accompanied by silly giggles.

Thinking you were asleep, your roommate admired your sleeping frame, “Awwww,” she cooed. “Precious, precious, [y/n].” She walked over to you and rubbed your shoulder.

“You’re crazy to not wanna fuck Matthew,” she whispered, chuckling. “You don’t know what you’re missing, kid.”

And you stayed still, silent, pretended to snore. All while Claire crawled into her bed.

When Monday rolled around, you spent the entire day with a chip on your shoulder. Claire kissed the top of your head and insisted you’d be fine, that your project would be done by the end of the night and you’d be grateful for Matthew’s help. But she knew that was a dead cause in her heart of hearts. You both knew it’d be a miracle if Matthew and you made it through 15 minutes of editing.

When she left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into pajama pants, combined with a cozy cropped button sweater. You sat at your desk, and waited. You’d told Matthew to arrive at 7.

He got there at 7:59.

By then, you were laying in bed, pissed and upset that you’d actually been convinced to give Matthew a chance. He knocked on the door, and you answered with an attitude. “Go home, Matthew.”

“Don’t be like that, short stack,” he sighed, following you as you stomped into the room. “I got caught up. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? What’d you get caught up with? A gram?” You spit.

He laughed, “Haha, so funny. No, I was not getting high. I was working on my own project. That I finished. Ahead of time. Can you relate, [y/n]?”

“Get out of my room,” you scoffed. “I asked you for one thing. One. And you couldn't even do that. You knew how important this project was to me, and you didn’t give a fuck. I wasted time waiting for you that I could’ve been working or rehearsing! I—Are you listening?”

Matthew’s eyes had been concentrated solely on your chest, “Are you wearing a bra?” He asked.

You took a step back, stunned, blinking rapidly as you searched around the room. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m just trying to find where the hell that came from?”

“It came from that itty bitty shirt you’re wearing,” he replied with a shrug. “Doesn’t really leave much to the imagination.”

“Stop staring at my tits!” You shouted, face turning red. “God, Matthew, I can’t stand to look at you right now. Just, leave. Please.”

He did not stop staring at your tits. Not for a very long time. But when he did, he had this look in his eyes. Like a wire had snapped. And he kissed you. Cupped your face in his hands, pulled you close, and kissed you. You pressed your hands against his chest, face contorting in shock and confusion.

You pushed him away, lips retracting with a sharp smacking noise. Saliva dripped from your lips, and you stood there, huffing and puffing like the two of you had just run a mile. “What the hell was that?” You snapped, your fingertips lightly touching your bottom lip.

He didn’t reply. He was just as speechless as you were. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so, so pretty. He was so pretty. Has he always been that pretty?

You grabbed onto the hem of his shirt and pulled him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Matthew’s hand gripped onto your hair, his body pushing itself against yours in an eager attempt to get as close to you as possible. His other hand made its way to your waist, gripping onto your skin so hard, his nails left marks. Both his hands began to snake down your body, landing on the back of your thighs.

Very suddenly, Matthew scooped you up in his arms, yanking your feet off of the ground. You let out a breathy ‘oof’ as you found yourself perched in his grasp, your legs wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supported your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth.

He carried you over to your bed, where he abruptly dropped you onto the mattress, and looked down at you with a lustful grin. Standing beside the bed, he leaned in as if he was going to kiss you — slowly, with his hands reaching out to touch your body — but he didn’t. Instead, he placed his hands on your ribs and pushed your sweater up, over your breasts to reveal your chest.

“I knew it,” he whispered. “I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.”

Your breath caught in your throat, before you released it shakily. His lips wrapped around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you gripped onto his hair in ecstasy. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He sucked harder, to the point of pain, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise. When one nipple began to pulse between his lips, he moved to the other, leaving a trail of love bites between them.

The heat between your legs was suffocating, and you rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Matthew noticed this, and proceeded to stick his hands down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirked at how soaked you were already and rubbed your clit as he licked a trail up to your neck. You tightened your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets.

The sound caused Matthew to take in a sharp breath of air. His cock was pressed against the zipper of his jeans, and was getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your nerve, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs.

He nibbled on your ear, and as you gave him a quiet moan, your eyes flickered down to look between your bodies. Flushed, and horny, and suddenly so desperate, you grabbed onto Matthew’s large erection and pressed the tip against your clit.

He grunted and pulled back to stare you in the eye, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He laughed, “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Innocent? Innocent, my ass.”

As you rolled your eyes at him, he kissed your lips softly, hands holding onto your thighs. You positioned his cock at your entranced and allowed him to press into you. He stood up straight, watching his cock disappear inside you, slowly, steadily, before he suddenly slammed into you. The sound of skin colliding on skin mixed in with your and Matthew’s moans, and he watched your head roll back in pleasure.

He licked his lips, smirking. And he did it again. And again. And again. Pulling out all the way and pushing back into you. Hard. The sensation struck your chest, and elicited vulnerable moans from you every time he pounded you. Matthew instantly began to speed his hips up, nails digging into your thighs as he pressed your legs open for him. His used all his strength to fuck you, your head knocking into the wall with every thrust. It was sloppy and messy and you couldn’t stop whimpering. Your eyes were screwed shut, and when you opened them again, the first thing you noticed with his chain. The gold medallion dangled in your face, Matthew’s lips pressed against your cheek.

Absentmindedly, you tangled your fingers in the chain, tugging on it as your volume increased. “Fuck,” you muttered. “Oh, fuck.”

He brought his hand up to your face, placing his thumb on your bottom lip. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, quietly, softly. And you did it without thinking. His thumb slid into your mouth, twirling around your tongue and stifling your moans.

He removed his hand and placed his thumb on your clit, wetting the skin with your own saliva. You let out a loud yelp at the new sensation, and a bubble instantly formed in your stomach.

Oh, no, not Matthew, you thought. Don’t let it be Matthew.

But with his cock and his hips and the way he kissed your neck and rubbed your sensitive nerve all at once. You came, you came with a fit of pornographic moans, trembling and writhing around on the bed.

And it was Matthew — the first guy to make you come. Ever.

He licked his lips as he watched you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he pulled out of you and released himself onto your chest, watching the fluid cover the hickies he’d left there.

He looked angelic on top of you, moaning, panting, swearing under his breath. But the moment he finished, he stepped back, fastened his pants and walked away. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him in a daze.

Matthew logged onto your computer, pressed a few buttons and then closed the laptop shut. Then he left.

However, the next day he sent you an email. Your project. Fully and perfectly edited.

Okay. So, that happened. They said it would happen and it happened. Didn’t necessarily make you hate Matthew any less, but it happened. It was good. You hated to admit it. And it was all you could think about. You couldn’t even touch yourself or hold your pillow without thinking of Matthew. It was bad.

Especially, given the fact that after the whole situation, he decided not to talk to you. At all. Not in class, not while hanging out with friends, not even to pick a fight. Complete and utter radio silence. He looked at you enough though. Not while you were looking at him, of course. So, as far as you knew, you were far off of his mind. But life had to go on. You had to focus on school, and on top of that, you were due to perform in NYU’s production of Swan Lake in less than two weeks.

You landed the main role of Odette, meaning for the next two weeks, you had to eat, sleep, breathe ballet. You practiced for hours on end, barely saw your friends, which gave you a good break from seeing Matthew.

Opening night rolled around and you were so nervous, you thought you might puke. Only a freshman, it was a miracle you landed the role in the first place, which meant your performance tonight was a make or break moment. Claire could tell you were sick to your stomach and tried to distract you by taking a bunch of pictures on her phone.

“Smile, pretty girl!” She beamed, the flashing going off in your face as you posed. “[y/n], you’re gonna kill it! I’m so excited! Aren’t you excited?”

“Yeah...” you whispered. “Deathly excited.”

“Aw, poor baby,” she swung her arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna be front and center, cheering you on. Just focus on me, okay?”

You smiled and nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Okay.”

Your body was on autopilot out on stage. The movements you’d practiced everyday, for hours and hours on end, just flowed. The lighting in the audience was dark, but you could just barely make out Claire’s figure under the soft hue.

It wasn’t until the finale, when you stood ready for your closing performance, that the lights switched to their full intensity and you noticed a hand resting on Claire’s shoulder. An arm resting behind her head. Someone whispering in her ear, making her laugh.

Matthew.

He was here. He was here and he was with Claire. He was with Claire and he was watching you. And it made your stomach feel weird. But then the music kicked up. So, you had to go. You fell into your dance, your rhythm and for some reason, you could not stop staring at Matthew.

Every twirl, you made him your focal point. Looking at him again, and again, and again. Until the lights went out.

Supporting ballerinas cheered you on as you walked offstage, throwing flowers at your feet and giving you applause. Your instructor marched right up to you, kissed both sides of your face and embraced you. It was a wonderful feeling, but right then, you were drained, emotionally, mentally, physically, you needed some rest.

You locked yourself away in your dressing room, taking a seat in the mirror and beginning to remove your tights. Pressing a makeup wipe to your skin, you jumped, startled by a knock on the door. You rose from your seat and walked to the entrance casually, expecting Claire to greet you.

 But you froze, as soon as you opened the door. Eyes glazing over the person in front you, your breath caught in your throat. “Matthew.”

“Hey,” he smiled. He looked you up and down — your naked legs, your breasts poking through the thin material of the leotard. “You...you were amazing tonight.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Bye.”

You attempted to close the door on him, but his put his elbow against the frame, stopping it in motion. “Whoa,” he exclaimed, pushing his way into the room. “What the hell is your problem?” He closed the door behind him.

“My problem is that I’m very tired, and still need to change, and greet everyone waiting for me. So, I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for what?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

You ducked your head down, “Nothing. Nothing. You need to leave.”

“Hey, hey, hey, ballerina barbie,” he mocked. “What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal! I have nothing to say to you Matthew. Same way you have nothing to say to me.” You scrunched up your face in a frown.

“I...” he paused, laughing under his breath. “I never said I didn’t have something to tell you. In fact, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked up at him — the gel in his hair, his black button down shirt flowing over his belt buckle, his dark eyes, his lips and the way they were pouting just a little. And like a magnet, you found yourself being pulled towards him. You jumped into his arms, hands on his face, and connecting your lips, mouths open, tongues touching.

Matthew held you up, moaning against your lips. “Mm,” you hummed. “Wait, what if someone comes in?”

Matthew thought quickly, hiking you up in his arms and shoving your back against the door. “Well, now they can’t get in, can they?” He mumbled, leaving kisses along your neck.

Your jaw dropped and you started to undo his belt, freeing his cock from his pants. He grunted against your skin as you stroked him, your head leaned back against the door, your chest heaving. You used your other hand to pull your leotard to the side, revealing your throbbing core.

Matthew smirked, letting you guide his dick to your entrance, and pushed his way into you swiftly. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck to keep yourself quiet. His thrusts were quick, rough, messy. He was much more vocal this time, making no effort to stay silent.

“Fuck,” he moaned in your ear. “F-fuck, I forgot how good your pussy is. Fuck.”

The feeling was mutual. For the past month, you’d be wondering what the hell about Matthew had you so stuck. So fixated on him. And this was it. He filled you up perfectly, could manhandle you however he wanted, and always, always made sure you came.

He fucked you harder when he noticed your orgasm nearing — your quickened breaths, frequent moans and whines, and your legs tightening against his torso. “Oh, my God,” you whimpered.

“Shit, are you gonna come?” He asked. “Good.”

Breathless, speechless, you stared into his eyes helplessly as your body began to crumble. All power left your body and you held onto his shirt for dear life. He gave you a small smile, and flipped his hair out of his face, looking down at his cock. He could pinpoint the exact stroke that did it. The one that sent you into a state of euphoria, sent your eyes rolling back, your body into intense shock.

You let out a long and weakened sigh as the wave washed over you, and Matthew continued to plow into you like nothing was happening.

“It’s so cool how your pussy tightens up when you come,” he chuckled. “It’s hot.”

You rolled your eyes at the sound of his voice, clawing at the back of his neck. His breathing became ragged and hoarse, and he had to pull out of you before he came. He jerked himself off until he exploded onto your clothing. And with you being dressed in all black, his stains stood out perfectly on your costume.

This time, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before he left.

The week after that was finals week. And neither of you could be bothered to reach out. Despite the not-so-subtle confession of bitterness and the very intense orgasms you shared, you and Matthew simply went back to not talking. Your friends thought it was strange, even commented that they missed the bickering. The two of you shrugged in response.

Most of your dorm room was in boxes by the time you finished your last final exam. Claire was slower to pack up than you were, considering she only lived an hour away, but she applauded you for your determination. The day Claire did start packing was the day before you left for the summer. The two of you spent the day getting everything cleared out, cleaned, squared away.

While the two of you sat on your bed, watching Netflix, a knock sounded from your door. Claire hopped up and headed towards the entrance, opening it with a grand smile. “Gube!” She shouted, instantly opening her arms for a hug. Matthew wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, carrying her into the room with a smile.

“Are you about to leave?” She asked him, holding onto his arms as he placed her feet back on the ground.

“Yeah, my mom’s here. So, I wanted to stop by and say goodbye,” he nodded.

“Aw, Gube, you softie,” she giggled. “[y/n], come say bye.”

“I can say bye from right here, Claire,” you replied. She gave you a look, and you felt compelled to get off the bed. So you did, you approached them, “Bye, Matthew.”

“Bye, shortcake,” he laughed. “Bye, Claire.” He pulled your roommate into another hug, while you stood there, crossing your arms in annoyance.

Matthew peeked at you over Claire’s shoulder. One hand rubbed her back and the other reached out to you, holding a small note.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, then the note, then Claire. You ripped the paper from his hand, and stuffed it into your pocket right away. He smirked at you, and turned his attention back to Claire.

“Hey,” he said to her. “Come back to my place, I want everyone there to show my mom I actually have friends.”

Claire chuckled and nodded, “Okay,” she shrugged. “Let’s go. [y/n], you coming?”

“Uh, no,” you shook your head. “I’m gonna keep packing, but I’ll text you later.”

“Okay,” Claire smiled, and she let Matthew whisk her away.

You sighed, and as soon as the door closed, you pulled the crumpled piece of paper from your pocket. You opened it up to reveal — not a meaningful message, not even a few words. Just one string of numbers, writing in his handwriting:

505.

[PART 2.]

#mine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fic #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler/reader #matthew gray gubler smut #college!matthew #esny

1K notes · View notes

emy-loves-you · 4 years ago

Text

Sanders Sides AU-gust Day 3: Soulmates

Your shadow is the current silhouette of your soulmate. Only you and your soulmate can see your shadow. Shadows of animals and objects (non-humans basically) can be seen by everyone. Most people have human soulmates that grow up with a human shadow. Logan is not most people.

Logan POV, Intrulogical, Prinxiety and Moceit

Day 2 | Masterlist | Day 4

Logan was smart.

At just four years old, Logan could count to one thousand, tie his shoes, and knew how to read books meant for kids twice his age. Logan knew other things too. He knew that the earth moved around the sun, not the other way around. He knew that Mrs. Smith didn’t like Mr. Smith and that they were getting a ‘dee-vorce.’ He knew that rainbows were like giant water mirrors. And he knew what soulmates are.

Soulmates mean different things to different people. They appear as shadows, but your shadow is actually your soulmate’s shadow. Logan didn’t really understand how that worked, but he didn’t ask about it. Mama’s shadow disappeared when she was little, and she doesn’t like to talk about it. Logan didn’t understand why Papa married Mama if they weren’t soulmates, but he didn’t ask. Because Logan was smart, and he knew that if he asked about their soulmates, they would ask about his. And while Logan didn’t know a lot about soulmates, he knew that his shadow was different.

Logan’s soulmate was big. Bigger than Mama and Papa. Sometimes Logan would lay in bed and his soulmate’s shadow covered him like a blanket. It made him feel safe and protected. One time Logan was almost hurt by a big doggie, but the dog saw Logan’s shadow and ran away. Logan knew that big shadows weren’t good. He heard about how Susie from down the street had a ‘peddle-file’ for a soulmate. But Logan knew that his soulmate wouldn’t hurt him.

Sometimes the shadow would change into something smaller, closer to Papa’s height. Sometimes the shadow grew so big that Logan couldn’t see the end of it. But most of the time, Logan’s shadow stayed the same size and shape. Logan knew it wasn’t normal to have a soulmate that changed shape. He knew it wasn’t normal for his shadow to have long, spindly arms with pointed fingers. He knew that most shadows didn’t have long devil horns, or give off an aura that scared all animals and most humans away. Logan knew that Mama and Papa wouldn’t understand if he told them.

Because Logan was smart enough to know that his soulmate wasn’t human.

-----------------------------------------------------

Logan was brave.

Most people wouldn’t see that at first glance. Logan was a 17-year-old nerd. He was such an oddball that even bullies steered clear of him (Logan never commented on that. He knew it was his soulmate’s aura scaring them away. Which was interesting since human shadows don’t have detectable auras). Logan always had his nose in a book. Most people expected him to be a teacher’s pet, but Logan never answered questions. He never reached out to others, and he never spoke unless he was spoken to, so most people didn’t know how brave Logan actually was.

Even those who considered themselves close to Logan didn’t see him as brave. In fact, most people saw him as emotionless. He rarely smiled or spoke out of turn. He was the perfect child in terms of behavior and intelligence, but he never showed signs of actually enjoying the world around him.

But there was something that Logan enjoyed: his shadow. While it was disappointing to have no one to talk to about his soulmate, Logan wouldn’t give his soulmate up for anything. It was fascinating to watch, and every time Logan interacted with his shadow he felt safe and loved. Most people would scream if their shadow’s jaw unhinged to impossible lengths, most likely to swallow something whole. Logan watched with rapt attention, itching to write it down. He never recorded anything about his soulmate, paranoid that someone would find it. Instead, he attempted to memorize every new detail on his soulmate. His soulmate was 8 feet tall exactly, with an extra four inches added for the horns. While his largest form was immeasurable, his smallest form stood at 6 ft 6 in with no horns to see. Logan assumed that this form was meant to mimic a human, though he had no other data to support that hypothesis. Logan’s soulmate was also extremely fast, occasionally moving its limbs at a speed that Logan couldn’t track with his eyes.

Logan participated in activities that made sense to him yet baffled others. He spent hours holed up in his room, his shadow comforting him as he read a book. He ran for an hour every afternoon, though he had no interest in joining any races. He also went to the gym every other day. Logan’s logic behind this was that he needed to be quick and strong in case his soulmate meant him harm (this was a lie and Logan knew it. Not only did Logan still believe that his soulmate wouldn’t harm him, he also doubted that he could physically run away from a creature that could potentially travel at inhuman speeds, much less fight one. The truth was that Logan wanted to have something vaguely in common with his soulmate). While Logan liked to read philosophy and chemistry books, he could also be seen reading books on soulmates, fairytales and cryptids. While Logan did not believe that humanity was aware that Logan’s soulmate existed, he hoped he would one day find something that would even slightly match his predicament.

Logan was actually reading another book about soulmates as he sat under the apple tree outside of the library. The tree’s shadow loomed over him, but Logan could still easily see his soulmate’s silhouette. He wasn’t sure if that was a soulmate-thing or a my-soulmate-isn’t-human-thing. That’s actually why he was reading this book: Everyday Occurrences for Soulmates. It was mainly a description of how soulmate customs were treated around the world, but Logan hoped that it would give him more insight into how human shadows should look and behave.

“Get back here, freak!” Logan’s head snapped up to see another teen run past him. Logan vaguely recognized the patchwork hoodie from his biology class. Virgil Storm, Logan’s memory supplied. Emo and social outcast. Logan watched as another group of teens chased after him. Virgil continued to run until he tripped and fell. Logan stood up as the gaggle of teenagers approached Virgil. This won’t do at all.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The teens looked afraid for a moment before they turned and saw Logan approaching.

The one in the middle laughed. “Run along, nerd, before you end up like this freak!” Micheal Scott, if Logan’s memory was correct (it always was). Senior, quarterback, was held back three times.

Logan continued to step forward, ignoring the way his shadow lashed around his ankles. “Virgil has done nothing to warrant your ire, Micheal.” This was true; Virgil talked less than even Logan did. Other than being exceptionally talented in art, Virgil was essentially a nobody (and while Logan knew that looks could be deceiving, he- like everyone else- saw reason to interact with Virgil).

Micheal scoffed. “Of course he does! He’s a freak and he deserves to be put in his place-”

Now, Logan was very smart. He knew that acting violently would most likely result in negative consequences. But Logan also knew that Virgil didn’t deserve Micheal’s… anything, Micheal’s an asshole. But either way, Logan knew what it was like to be the odd-one-out. And while Logan was nervous of the consequences, when he heard Micheal call Virgila freak, Logan’s bravery shined through.

Logan was satisfied to feel Micheal’s nose break from under his fist. Those visits to the gym were actually useful. Huh. Logan watched impassively as Micheal fell down to his knees. Logan kneeled so that his face loomed just above Micheal’s. Micheal started shivering, and Logan couldn’t tell if it was him or his shadow that was causing him distress. He also didn’t care. “If you even look at me or Virgil the wrong way I will not hesitate to make your life a living hell. Understood?” Logan’s voice remained cold and emotionless. While his surge in confidence was making him slightly uncomfortable, it produced the intended outcome. Micheal blanched before scurrying away. It took only a look to get the other teens to do the same.

Logan knelt down next to the now safe teen. “Are you alright?” He held out his hand for Virgil to grab.

Virgil stared at the hand in shock, seemingly surprised that someone had stood up for him. “Yeah, thanks.” He took the offered hand, pulling himself up onto his feet. His sketchbook fell out of his hand, which Logan didn’t realize was even there. Logan bent down to grab the sketchbook for Virgil when he froze.

The sketch was of some kind of fae/eldritch horror combination. The creature’s face was youthful, appearing to be a man in his early twenties. Its arms were long and spindly, and his nails were sharpened to a point. It wore a white prince suit with a red sash. But what really grabbed Logan’s attention was the pair of devil horns that sat on top of its head.

Logan looked up at Virgil, who was suddenly pale and shaking. “Virgil, what was your inspiration behind this piece?”

Virgil grabbed the notebook and shook his head. “It’s nothing, just a nightmare I had. Nothing more.” He went to walk away.

Logan grabbed Virgil by the hoodie sleeve. “Please do not lie to me.” Virgil stared at Logan in horror. Logan stood there, feeling his desperation claw at him. “Please,” He whispered. “Please tell me I’m not alone.”

Because Logan was brave, and he didn’t want to be alone anymore.

--------------------------------------------------

Logan was observant.

While his observations didn’t help him in finding his soulmate, it did help him take care of his two new (and only) friends.

Virgil Storm apparently had a soulmate similar to Logan’s, as did Virgil’s best friend Patton Heart. Virgil also had a nightbond, a rare form of soulbond that allowed soulmates to visit each other in their dreams. Apparently, the creatures did not have a name for their species. Roman, Virgil’s soulmate, appeared to have very little knowledge on his species. While this did disappoint Logan, he was still grateful to have someone to share his findings with. After knowing each other for over a year, the trio were never seen apart, finally having friends who weren’t scared away by their shadow’s dark auras.

Virgil and Patton both had similar opinions to Logan on their inhuman soulmates, mainly that it was more fascinating than terrifying. Virgil was interested in the darker aspects of their soulmates, while Patton was just happy that he had a soulmate. Logan grew to care for the two teens. While Virgil was quiet and awkward around others, Logan learned that he was actually very snarky and cynical. Patton pretended that life was perfect, but Logan had seen enough to know that Patton only genuinely smiled when thinking about his soulmate. Logan had become quite protective of the two, as his shadow tended to scare off more potential threats than Virgil’s or Patton’s did.

Logan was currently running around the perimeter of the highschool as he waited for his friends to finish their activities. He had asked if they would like to join him, but Patton was asthematic and Virgil detested running. So, it had become a common occurrence for Logan to do his running while Patton and Virgil participated in their after school clubs.

Logan allowed his mind to wander as he completed another lap. He was disappointed that he’s so far unsuccessful in terms of meeting his soulmate. None of them had met their soulmates in person, even Virgil. According to Roman, the creatures had a much deeper connection to their souls compared to humans. He had also said that the creatures wouldn’t be found by their soulmates until “our loves are ready.” Ready for what, Logan didn’t know. But that didn’t stop him from exhausting every possible way to find his soulmate.

Logan saw a flash of yellow and almost tripped over his feet. Not stopping as to draw suspicion, he glanced towards the forest behind the school and saw something… odd.

Standing at the edge of the treeline was a man. He was tall and young, probably in his mid 20s. He wore an impeccable black suit with yellow accessories, which was odd since he appeared to have came from the forest. Logan followed his gaze and just as the gym doors opened. Patton sprinted out of the school, most likely grabbing something from his car. Logan watched as the man’s gaze followed Patton as he walked towards his car. Logan tsked as he darted into the treeline, attempting to not be spotted. The man was stalking Patton, and that was not acceptable. But Logan was observant, so he’d learn more about the man before making his move.

Logan had just reached where he’d last seen the man when he noticed something important: his shadow wasn’t moving. Any time Logan was heading towards potential danger, his shadow would move erratically around his feet, as if it was trying to stop him. Any time potential danger was heading towards him, Logan’s shadow would lash towards the danger, it’s natural aura deterring most creatures. But his shadow wasn’t moving. It was calm. Complacent.

Logan was so busy analyzing his shadow that he almost hadn’t realized that the man wasn’t there. Logan felt a chill go down his neck and he spun around, to find himself less than a foot away from the man. Logan stifled the urge to scream. His shadow wasn’t acting up, and Logan trusted his soulmate to protect him. But now that he was almost touching the man, Logan quickly realized something. How his smile was a hair too wide. How just standing close to him made Logan’s fight-or-flight reflexes go haywire.

Logan was observant, but it didn’t take much to realize that this man isn’t human.

Logan cleared his throat as he forced himself to articulate a response. “Hello. Might I ask why you’re trespassing into a high school to observe minors?”

The man looked guilty (bullshit) as he spoke. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met before.” He held out his hand, presumably for Logan to shake. “My name is Declan Brown. I was sent by the school board to observe the school’s management of extracurricular activities-”

“Stop.” Logan suddenly said, resisting the urge to physically shake his head. A part of him was already nodding along to what he said. It’s a perfectly reasonable assumption- Logan did his best to shove the thought away. The creature obviously had a talent in mental manipulation.

The (not)man gaped for a second. “Excuse me?” He seemed shocked. The thoughts became more intense and repetitive.

Logan started rambling, less focused on his words and more focused on getting Declan’s (that’s probably not his name) manipulations out of his head. “Stop lying to me. No member of the student board would support stalking a minor from the school’s perimeter. Check up on your human facts before stating such a bold lie. And will you shut up with the thoughts!” Before Logan could acknowledge what he had said, the thoughts ceased completely.

The creature looked at Logan with unguarded curiosity. “Who are you?”

Logan crossed his arms as he ignored how terrified he felt. “My name is unimportant for this conversation. Now I’ll ask again: Why are you stalking my friend?”

Logan’s shadow chose that moment to respond, shifting forward so it brushed against the creature’s ankles. Logan then realized that not only did he seem to acknowledge Logan’s shadow, he also didn’t have a shadow. Which means that he has a soulmate. The creature stared at the shadow before laughing. “Ah. That makes much more sense.”

Logan frowned. “Please answer my question.”

The creature’s smile seemed more genuine as he held out his hand again. “Call me Janus. I was sent by Roman to check on his soulmate. And I wanted to check on my soulmate at the same time.”

Logan blinked as he processed the information. The creature knew Roman, so it was most likely the same (or similar) species. And since it was staring at Patton…

Logan grabbed Janus’ hand, giving it his firmest shake. Logan was not submitting to this creature. “My name is Logan. I assume you are Patton’s soulmate, correct?” At Janus’ smirk, Logan tightened his grip. “If you harm him in any way- physically, emotionally, you name it- I will find a way to make the rest of your existence a living hell.”

Janus laughed as he also tightened his grip. “He’s gonna LOVE meeting you.” Logan remained impassive, knowing that a single sign of weakness could cause his end.

Because Logan was observant, and no way in hell was he letting his friend get hurt.

-----------------------------------------------------

Logan was loved.

Logan never really realized that. Sure, his parents said that they loved him, but Logan never really depended on his parents the way most children did. When Logan had a question, he read a book. When Logan was scared, his shadow protected him. When Logan was hurt or lonely, his shadow would comfort him. Most people depended on their parents to raise them. Logan raised himself. Most people saw shadows as a way to find their soulmate. Logan saw his shadow as a friend.

Maybe that’s why at 21 years old Logan confidently (and drunkenly) states that he’s never felt true love. Sure, he’s felt kindness and support (Patton and Virgil) but he’s never felt love. Sure, some nights he has long conversations with his shadow and lets himself believe that the way it twists and turns means that his soulmate can hear him. Sure, he sees Janus a few times every year (Logan knows by this point that Janus is letting himself be seen. Logan never told Patton about meeting Janus and they have yet to officially meet. If Janus wanted to be seen by Patton or not seen by Logan he could) and every time he begs to learn more about his soulmate. But that’s not love (he never says that around Janus. The creature can smell lies like Logan smells Patton’s perfume).

Maybe that’s why he drunkenly kisses a stranger at his 21st birthday party, ignoring the fact that he’s too short and his hold doesn’t feel safe.

Maybe that’s why when he goes to visit Patton weeks later and sees only a note that says His name’s Janus he crumples it up and throws it away. Maybe that’s why when Virgil texts him the same day simply saying Found my soulmate TTYL, Logan lets hope claw its way through his chest. Maybe that’s why when the sun sets and Logan gets no sign from his soulmate he curls up in a ball and sobs. Maybe that’s why he decides that he can’t wait any longer and he leaves his shitty apartment in the middle of his shitty town and heads towards the shitty forest that he knows is empty but he has to try.

Maybe that’s why when Logan’s so deep in the forest that he can’t find his way out and the moon hangs high over his head and he hears wolves in the distance he doesn’t get scared or sad. No, Logan gets angry. Angry at the world for rejecting him because of his menacing shadow. Angry at Patton and Virgil for leaving him for their own soulmates. Angry at his soulmate for making him believe for 21 fucking years that he had a chance at being truly happy.

A wolf broke through the tree line, lowly growling as he approached Logan. Logan growled right back, his irritation and heartbreak and anger clouding his judgment. The wolf howled, and Logan screamed. It was an odd feeling. Logan hadn’t screamed in a long time. He trusted his shadow to protect him, so he never screamed in fear. But the way his throat burned from his anger was exhilarating.

The wolf lunged, and it took Logan a few moments to realize that it never reached him. Logan heard a satisfying crunch as the wolf head landed inches from his feet. Logan looked up and saw a monster of nightmares.

It was at least 8 ft tall, with long, spindly limbs sharpened to a point. Green horns protruded form his head, and his eyes glowed acid green. His bloody teeth stretched into a too-wide grin, and Logan did not smile back.

Instead Logan screamed again. But it wasn’t out of fear (never out of fear). It was out of anger, and exhaustion, and relief, and something else that Logan couldn’t name. He lunged at the creature, wrapping his arms around the black and green tunic as he continued to scream. The creature continued to smile, using his too-sharp claws to hold onto Logan’s back. And Logan broke. He started to sob, losing the ability to stand as he leaned further into the creature’s chest.

They stayed there for almost an hour, Logan sobs being the only sound in the vicinity. Eventually, the creature spoke up. “It’s nice to finally hold you, Logan.” Logan continued to stay silent, burrowing his face into the creature’s chest. “My name is Remus. I know that it hurts, but you weren’t ready until now. I wanted to come get you the moment I saw your shadow, I swear. But I’ve always been there, even though ya couldn’t hear me. And I promise I won’t leave ya ever.”

Logan felt himself smile as he relaxed further into the creature’s his soulmate’s hold, listening to Remus babble out apologies and promises. Logan allowed himself to finally feel.

Because even though this was the first time they touched, Logan knew this wasn’t the first time they’d met. Remus had always been there to support Logan, even if he was hiding in Logan’s shadow. He was always there, and even though Logan was hearing him for the first time, Logan knew that he was in love with Remus.

And as they separated and Remus asked if Logan was okay, Logan let himself admit it. “I love you.”

And Remus repeated him, with no doubts or uncertainty. Because even though Logan refused to believe it before now…

Logan was loved.

#sanders sides #AU_gust_2020 #soulmate alternate universe #intrulogical #moceit #prinxiety #logan sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #Janus Sanders #my fic

365 notes · View notes

sirenprincess15 · 3 years ago

Text

Please Don't Leave Me Chapter 9

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

Author: SirenPrincess

Description: What if Aleksander hadn’t answered the door when Ivan interrupted the war room kissing? What if Aleksander and Alina had a bit more time to get to know each other before Baghra told her his true identity? Alina is the only one who can comfort Aleksander through his nightmares. Will she leave once she knows who he is?

This story is based on the show version and features a soft on the inside, hard on the outside Aleksander with an emphasis on emotional hurt/comfort and angst. If you are looking for lots of hurt!Aleksander thoughts, then this story is for you. Mal exists but pretty much solely to cause Aleksander some angst. Don’t worry. It will be a Darklina ending.

Chapter 1 is a missing scene at the end of Ep 4, and Chapter 2 takes place alongside Ep 5 and then diverges from canon there.

Pairings: Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, bits of Ivan/Fedyor

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Grisha are oppressed in this universe, and I don’t shy away from showing the horrors of that. There may eventually be mentions of canon-typical torture (Fjerdan pyres), death of family members, and cruelty to Grisha children. It’s not the focus, but that backdrop is definitely there and comes up as characters discuss their past.

In this chapter: After centuries of being alone, Aleksander struggles to share his problems.

Chapter 9

Aleksander was busy working in his office. The roaring fire warmed him as he poured over ship manifests and army documentation on this Dmitry. If they could find who Dmitry traveled with, who was likely to be loyal to him, then perhaps they could identify any threats before they even came to the Little Palace.

When Inessa and Fedyor delivered Alina, Aleksander rushed to her side. “Thank you,” he said, dismissing them. He pulled her into his arms, rested his chin on top of her head, and deeply inhaled the scent of her. She was safe. “How was your day?”

“Boring. Fedyor and Inessa wouldn’t even let me go outside, not even for training. I’m never going to get stronger if I don’t train.”

“It’s just a precaution.”

“A precaution for what?”

He ignored her. She didn’t need the stress of knowing how anxious their enemies were to kill her. “I thought we’d take dinner in here tonight, if that’s okay with you.” His emotions were a mess. As haunted as he had been since Marie’s death, it was even worse now that the continued active threat was confirmed. He was relieved to be with her because he could see she was safe, but he was also still deeply ashamed of his panic attack from the nightmare the night before. He feared she would bring it up. He couldn’t talk about it. Eating in the main hall would stop her from doing so, but he was worried about security and didn’t want her with a large crowd. Her food would be easier to poison there, even with her taster. Truthfully, though, Aleksander wasn’t sure he had it in him to perform the intimidating General Kirigan act tonight, and he wanted her nearby for safety. Then he worried about what would happen when it was time for sleep. He had unleashed shadows last night, and they could have hurt her. He would never be able to forgive himself if he harmed her. That morning he had decided they’d have to sleep apart, but that was before he’d known of this new threat, of spies sneaking into the palace to check her routines. There was no way to know if the man he’d killed had been the first or the last. He couldn’t risk letting her sleep without someone strong guarding over her, and she’d never agree to let someone like Ivan stand over her bed. She had to stay here. Selfishly, he was grateful to have the excuse to keep her in his bed.

“Of course.” Her expression begged him to answer her previous question, but he didn’t. He well remembered what it was like to be afraid everywhere you went at all times. He could protect her from that.

“I do have quite a bit of work to complete, though. I’m afraid I’ll be quite busy. I did take the liberty of having Genya select some books from the library for you.”

She raised an eyebrow, as if signaling to him that she saw right through his attempts to distract her, but all she said was, “That was kind of you.”

He sat back at his desk and tried to focus on the lists in front of him. Something wasn’t adding up. Dmitry would appear on a ship crossing into West Ravka, but not on a return, and then somehow a time later be on a manifest for a ship crossing the wrong way. How was that possible? Was he missing manifests or was Dmitry paying someone off to keep his name off the lists?

Alina stepped behind him and started rubbing his shoulders. “Alek, you’re so tense. The stress coming off you is nearly unbearable. What happened today?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

She sighed. “Are we really going to do this thing tonight?”

He lifted his eyes to take in the annoyed look on her face. “Thing?”

“You know, where you pretend to be the oh so busy and important General Kirigan who uses his sense of authority to push people away? And then acts like he couldn’t possibly have any feelings or needs of his own? He’s fine. Everything is fine. He doesn’t need any help.”

He hadn’t even realized he was doing it, but she had. “Accurate,” he admitted.

“I’m going to let you in on a secret. The act doesn’t work with girls who have shared your bed.”

He laughed. Only she could call him on his behavior like this without irritating him. Only she could make him smile when he was otherwise so miserable. “I can assure you it worked fine on girls who have shared my bed. Apparently, it doesn’t work on the one girl I have let into my heart.”

“You’ve let me into your heart? So … let me help you.”

“Alina, it’s not that simple …”

“You can’t bear this burden alone, Aleksander. I won’t let you. Whatever is happening, it is crushing you. If not me, then get Ivan in here and talk to him. ”

“You want me to summon Ivan in here? This must be serious.”

“He is a good friend to you, and I know you trust him. I just want you to let someone help. You are not alone. This,” she said, putting her hand over the papers, “is not yours alone to figure out. Stop trying to solve everything with no support.”

“I’m not … used to having support.”

She nodded, took his hand, and squeezed it. “I know. I’m not really either. We’ve learned to do things alone, to hide pain and keep it to ourselves, but I know that problems are better solved together. Together, Aleksander. Stop trying to protect me from scary truths. Fedyor scanned every room we went into before he’d let me enter. I’m not stupid, Aleksander. If I can handle you cutting a Druskelle in half on top of me, I can handle whatever is threatening us now. Stop trying to push me away when it comes to important things. Let me help.”

He sighed. She was frightened already; she might as well know the truth. “Zoya caught a man trying to break in today. I have her guarding the palace exterior since she can’t seem to behave herself around you. He is working for Zlatan and was sent to spy on you. They’re making a plan for a better attempt on your life.”

Her shoulders slumped and her gaze fell to the floor as she took that in. “Hunted wherever I go. Still not used to that.”

He stood and wrapped his arms around her. “I will not let them succeed. I promise you that you will come to no harm.”

She looked into his eyes, stared there for a while, then found her strength. “Tell me about the papers.”

He quickly filled her in on what he had discovered about Dmitry and the mystery of the paperwork. It did actually feel good to have someone to discuss his findings with and not keep the thoughts spinning in his head. He talked through all of his ideas, no matter if they led nowhere. She indulged him and asked appropriate questions at all the right times. Finally, he arrived out loud at the stuck place he was in his head. He had so many theories, but how did he figure out if any of them were right?

She was quiet as she turned from page to page. Dinner arrived, and they ate in silence as they continued to try to find a pattern among the papers--the same captain, the same record keeper, accomplices that might travel with him. All ideas led nowhere, but they continued to look.

Hours later, Alina stood and walked into the war room.

“Alina?” He trailed after her. She was staring at the map. After a long time, he prompted her. “What is it?”

“I’m sure it’s stupid.” She shook her head and hugged herself.

He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t like it when you put yourself down like that. That’s not you. Those are words from your past.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Hmm, well then, let’s hear it. I’m frustrated. Maybe if it’s really stupid we can have a good laugh about it.”

“I used to stare at the map and dream of finding a way around. I was told there is no around, but … is there? Any secret path or …”

Aleksander felt his stomach twist as the implications became clear. “There are reports of Fjerdans in West Ravka, rumors that Zlatan is aligning with them, letting Druseklle ...” A vision of Nina being tortured popped into his head. He had to fight his jaw from trembling so she couldn’t see how upset this made him. “There is an around if you’re in bed with the enemy. He’s going through Fjerda.”

She gasped as it came together in her head. “He sends his emissary to Fjerda with messages, who then gets a free pass into our country to deliver orders to his spies, but then he needs the quick return across to do it again. How long would it take to travel through Fjerda? Check the dates. Do they match?”

“Fjerdans. It’s worse than I thought.” He could feel the Fjerdan fires licking at his skin.

They spent another hour pouring over records and checking their theory. Finally, Alina yawned. “We should get some sleep.”

He wanted to tell her to go on ahead, but he didn’t want her sleeping in a room away from him. He almost offered to just watch over her, but he feared he would accidentally fall asleep and end up as he had the night before. His chest tightened with worry as he considered possibilities, none of which were acceptable.

“I tell you to come to bed, and that sense of dread is what I get? I might think you don’t want to …” she tried to lightly tease.

“You know why,” he whispered, still not wanting to talk about it.

“Which is all the more reason to get you to sleep soon. Your nightmares are worse the longer you try to keep yourself awake. Have you noticed?”

He sighed. “This morning I was trying to work myself up to telling you that it’s not safe to sleep with me anymore, but now with this information on this potential attack, it’s not safe to sleep away from me either.”

“Don’t you dare do that to me!”

“What?” To her?

“Don’t you realize what you do for me? For years I cried myself to sleep every night, Aleksander. For years! I used to lie there and wonder what was wrong with me that no one could want me, how it was possible for me to not belong anywhere. I slept with a weapon under my pillow to fend off anyone who might come to hurt me. And now I sleep in your arms. Desired. Loved. Don’t you dare take that away from me.”

His heart ached for her. Was it possible she needed him as much as he needed her? “I hadn’t realized …”

“No matter how bad our nightmares get, we stay together. You make sure I can sleep, and I will do the same for you. Just promise to wake me up tonight. You can’t get yourself overtired like that again.”

“And you will wake me if the shadows start again?”

“I promise. Right away.”

“Okay,” he agreed, feeling less selfish about allowing it if it benefited her too. It was better than the alternative of some spy finding her room in the night or her lying awake with a knife under her pillow wondering if someone was coming to kill her. He would have to take care of himself more for her--get an adequate amount of sleep, actually stop and eat meals instead of working through every waking hour, maybe even share some of his stresses with her. He would do those things if it meant he could be there to protect her.

“Now,” she said, kissing him gently. “What do I have to do to get you out of that kefta so I can kiss away all those battle scars?”

#darklina #alina x darkling #general kirigan #kirigan x alina #alina x kirigan #aleksander x alina #alina x aleksander #aleksander morovoza

17 notes · View notes