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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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Brothers React to the MC Looking at Them Lovingly

This is a personal experiment. This is the very first time I've written one of these with a goal in mind, "Make them fall in love all over again." It's a tall order. I hope I succeeded. 🙏 Special thanks to @a-chaotic-dumbass for picking the mood for this one!

Intro:

We all know that look. The one where one person stares at another like they just realized they're the only thing in the universe and they're in fucking awe of it. The kind of look that tells you they're utterly enthralled by that other person and just can't get enough of their presence. That look. Yeah, the brothers just got that look out of the MC.

Let's warm some cold hearts, everybody.

Lucifer

Lucifer was always beautiful. Always has been, as an angel or a demon.

A morning star is one that outshines all the rest. It stands out when the other stars have dimmed, holding onto its luster in defiance of the sun.

There couldn't be a truer title for Lucifer to have. Not the horrors of war nor the fires of Hell could tarnish his radiance in any way…

But there were moments, like right then, where the MC caught a glimpse of a different sort of Lucifer.

His brothers would often only see the uptight Lucifer, the practiced visage of perfection that he tried so hard to keep up…

But after a long day, when he thinks he's alone, he retires to his room to listen to his music and the difference is astonishing.

There's something so entrancingly calm about him… How the light of the fireplace flickers and dances across his alabaster skin to the subtle slouch of his posture. His face no longer marred by creases of stress and frustration…

And his expression is so pure… So tranquil and at peace… Beauty without effort. A shine that can't be ignored. A morning star, in the truest sense of the word…

It took awhile for Lucifer to see the MC leaning against his doorframe.

They were staring at him with the oddest look… Smiling like they were enraptured by something, but he didn't have a clue why. He was just sitting there…

So, naturally, he turned to suspicion.

"Am I really that amusing…?"

Frankly, he wasn’t prepared for the little laugh they let out in response.

"Mm? No, no... I'm just always so amazed by you, is all. I'll leave you to your music..."

Having thoroughly ruined the mood, the MC then turned to leave. But Lucifer was already upon them before they could step away, wrapping his arms around their waist and letting contented hum escape his chest.

"Going so soon…?"

Apparently he appreciated the compliment.

Mammon

He didn't have to do it.

When Belphie bumped into one of the House's vases, shattering it against the tile, he didn’t have to take the fall for it.

It wasn’t connected to him at all. He could have stayed quiet and no one would have pointed a finger at him for once.

But he did.

When Mammon set his phone down on the table, MC knew instantly that he had lied in the chat.

He was with them the entire day, he didn't have the time to accidentally break a vase. He hadn't even gone down that hallway all day...

But he said something anyway.

And he didn't even look fazed. He didn't turn towards them seeking approval nor did he look irritated that Belphie didn't speak up. He didn't curse at himself for doing something so self-sacrificing either...

When Mammon leaned back into the cushion of his couch, the MC saw something truly remarkable on his face… A smile. A small one, sure, but relaxed…

Assured in his own actions. Confident in his choice and accepting the consequences… undeserved, and likely thankless, they may be.

A genuine, serene smile…

Mammon wasn't sure what he expected to see when he turned to the MC. Probably confusion or disbelief that he, the Great Mammon, could be so selfless.

Definitely not the awed, lovestruck look he got...

"G-gah!" He panicked slightly and pressed himself back against the armrest of the couch in shock. "Wh-... What'cha lookin at me like that for??"

When the MC didn't answer after a few seconds and just kept staring, he honestly didn't know what to do. Were they broken or something??

"Oi, MC! I asked ya wh-Hey wait a minute!!"

He made a noise between a yelp and a shout when the MC leapt forward and latched their arms onto him. What had gotten into them??

"U-uh… MC? MC?? Damnit MC, answer me already!! Or at least stop squeezin so tight!!... MC!!!"

Leviathan

To anyone else, it was just Levi being Levi.

He had finished a new episode of his latest animated obsession and he had to share it with someone. Anyone would do, but the MC was always willing to lend an ear.

Something about Levi really changes when he talks about his passions… It's like he comes alive in a whole new way.

He speaks at a mile-a-minute, but that's because he's so excited the words fly from his mouth.

Some part of him is always bouncing, be it his leg or body. Sometimes even his tail will swish and curl behind him like an ecstatic puppy. And his eyes…

Citrine pools that glimmer and dilate from the exhilaration of it all. It's his little world and anyone can see he's thrilled to be sharing it.

You'd never know he was shy. You'd never think he'd look down himself. You'd never guess that he hid himself away… Why would someone so full of passion and life ever want to? Some things are just too beautiful to keep hidden...

Levi had only gotten six minutes into his latest rant before he finally registered how the MC was staring at him…

This man has seen enough shoujo to know what that look means and it shut him up sooo quick. If anyone else were in the room they would have seen a beet-red Levi desperately trying to hide his face.

"M-MC…! S-top staring at me like that…!!"

"Like what~?"

He didn't have to look at them to hear the teasing lilt in their voice.

"MC…" He peeked out from behind his fingers to see them still staring and covered himself up more vigorously. "Stoooop…!!!"

But secretly? He wished they'd never stop. His cheeks may have been red from embarrassment, but his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest to hug them itself. Hell, he'd have happily given it over to them if they'd asked…

Please just let those loving eyes be for him and him alone...

Satan

Soft isn't exactly a word anybody would use to describe Satan, least of all himself.

His anger was quick to spark, his strength was nothing to scoff at, and even his smiles were nothing but plastic for nearly all of his existence…

Nearly.

The MC learned surprisingly quick that there was one thing that could bypass all of the hidden ferocity to Satan's personality. Something that could make him melt like butter in the summer sun…

Satan had always looked a little cute when he was reading. He was easily at his most expressive when engrossed in a thrilling story or deeply intrigued by something he found between the pages of a book…

But watching Satan read about cats, as he was right then, was really something else entirely.

Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes would sparkle or the lopsided grin he just couldn't hide as he would scan the pages about the playful habits of Bengals or the relaxed nature of Ragdolls…

Maybe it was the sheer impassioned dedication he took the subject, pouring countless hours into collecting and memorizing every fact he could from their diets to coat maintenance.

Or maybe it was the sheer fact that anytime he saw a picture of kitty in-print he looked like a besotted schoolgirl drawing hearts around her crush in a teen magazine.

Really, who's to say? But to the MC, it was proof that under all that anger, there was a tender, loving center even for the smallest, softest creatures…

Satan automatically snapped his book closed when he saw MC watching him from behind a bookshelves. Caught red-handed…

He knows exactly how he looks when he's doing his research internally squealing over cat pictures so he tries to do so in private...

He was about to sputter out a defensive explanation but then he registered their face…

He'd seen that look described in stories, romance novels mostly, but he'd rarely seen it in action… and never once leveled at him with such intensity…

Not to be cliche, but frankly his heart skipped a beat.

Satan forgot about his book briefly and got up to close the distance between them, tilting their chin up to keep their eyes on him.

"Like something that you see, Kitten?"

"You could say that…"

He laughed at their attempt to play coy, but let it slide just this once… Easy to do with them looking at him so amorously.

Asmodeus

Asmo is a very popular demon. Someone so free ought to know quite a lot of people, after all.

And, of course, he had plenty of fans. He made DevilTube videos, hosted radio shows, fashion designed, and even modeled.

So it wasn't very surprising when a young demoness stopped him while he and the MC were out shopping. It wasn’t the first time he had been asked to sign autographs, but this meeting… it was different.

It was clear to them both that this girl was shy. Though she held out the paper, her eyes stayed firmly on the ground and she stumbled on her question… She likely a fan from afar, but everything about her seemed meek… unassuming.

Most people would have just gave the autograph then went on with their day. The interaction could have taken five seconds at most… but not Asmo.

He asked her name… where she was from, how she was feeling, her favorite foods, outfits, makeup, you name it. All with investment.

It was amazing to watch the shy young woman slowly open up, getting more bright and cheerful with each passing question until it evolved into a healthy conversation.

When their little meeting finally wrapped up, he gave her back the paper (now signed) but also fished out a bottle of perfume from among the mountains of bags he was carrying. He gave it to her and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary, he could always buy another.

None of his brothers ever gave Asmo enough credit for his giving nature… even if he had his own way of going about it. Though he cared so much about image and his ability to shine, he never hesitated to make sure that the people around him shined too...

Asmo waved to the fan as she scampered away and was about to apologize to the MC when he saw their face…

The man knows this look well. He's seen it a billion times, though it was particularly cute coming from them.

"Awww MC! Taken by my beauty are you~?"

He was about ready to kiss their cheek when they responded.

"No, not your looks, Asmo… with you."

… Oh.

It was very rare to see Asmo speechless, but for a few seconds his mind seemed to take in their words… letting them fully sink in before his heart utterly melting.

Oh MC… His sweet MC!!

Asmo ended up dropping the rest of his bags just so he could properly litter his human in nuzzles and kisses, the both of them humming and giggling in delight despite their shameless PDA.

Of course it would be his MC to see that part in himself… Who else would take the time?

Beelzebub

Food is a precious resource to Beel. For him, it's a lifeline. A good meal could save him from the brink of starvation…

But that still doesn't make him incapable of sharing from time to time.

He and the MC were walking back to the House after getting takeout from Hell's Kitchen. Beel hadn't even waited until they left the restaurant to start eating his share, spilling the smell of fresh food into the air around them…

Things were going fine on their route back until they heard whimpering behind them…

A hellhound puppy, not quite old enough to bear its fangs, seemingly followed them as they were walking… It looked like it had been out for some time and eyed their food with hungry eyes, but weak posture. Who knows when it last had a meal?

The MC was about to tug at Beel's sleeve and say something, but their demon was ahead of them this time.

A casual observer might have gawked at the sight of Gluttony kneeling down to offer such a lowly creature a sandwich. But the MC knew better. When you spend your whole life hungry, nobody more than you understands that kind of pain in someone else.

This reaction wasn't out of character for Beel, it was elementary.

And when the puppy finished its meal and covered Beel's cheeks with appreciative licks, he just laughed and scratched behind its ears. Amethyst eyes looking more relieved at its health than disappointed he lost some of his lunch...

Food was Beel's lifeline, but kindness is what made him who he was…

When the pup finally scampered off, Beel looked over at the MC to tell them it'd be alright and saw their face…

He wasn't really sure what they were staring at… Did he have something between his teeth again?

"MC? Are you okay...?"

They laughed at him for some reason but pulled him in for a hug so they must have meant well.

"You're so sweet, Beel…"

Beel's never one to refuse a compliment so he just hugged them back, beaming.

"Thank you, MC…"

Belphegor

To say that Belphegor tended to be on the melancholic side would be an understatement… It wasn’t that he was incapable of expressing joy, it was just harder for him to do than most. Not helped, of course, by his tendency to keep his true feelings vague and hard to pinpoint.

But on those rare occasions where he was overjoyed… Belphie could really be something special…

The MC and Belphie were attending one of Beel's games and it was a tight one… Both teams had spent most of it tied and Beel's team was running out of time to overtake that slim margin.

Belphie had always been a supporter of his twin's athletics, but this time it was tense even for him. He kept on the edge of his seat and didn't even nod off during the breaks like he normally would… The MC could just tell how nervous he was for Beel…

But right as the time was about to run out, Beel made a last minute score and sure, the whole field erupted, but Belphie? Belphie hollered.

The normally sleepy and mellow demon was on his feet in an instant and practically shredding his vocal chords in excitement. If his tail had been out, it would have been beating against the bleachers like a war-drum. And his expression?

Belphie's smile is said to stop hearts for a reason. When he puts his all into a grin it's almost like he ascends to Heaven once more, as pure as an angel's choir and as warm as a summer's breeze… Nothing in his eyes but pride and adoration for his beloved twin brother.

Truly, a heartwarming sight to behold…

Belphie didn't calm down until the rest of the crowd settled and was about to point out Beel's skill to the MC when he noticed their face.

… oh no… Why do they look so sappy…?

"You really love your brother, don't you?"

Belphie quickly hid his thoughts behind an irritated frown and plopped back down in his seat… but that didn't shield them from seeing his pink cheeks.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?"

He debated just joining Beel on the field to hide his embarrassment when he heard them snicker back.

"Yeah, you're right… Don't mind me."

Oh he minded. He minded a lot that he let his carefully veiled image slip like that. But thinking back to that smile on their face…?

Maybe being a little open wasn't so bad after all...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me scenarios

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imagination-is-key-in-my-world · 3 years ago

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Awkward Encounters

Authors Note: At first, I was going to write this as the reader being in Tessa’s perspective but then I thought that it would be too much of a copyright. There may be some similarities to the story but I have written Tessa in as a separate party. Tessa is still with Noah in this. Also, I will be referencing parts from both the movie and the novels. In this particular fanfiction Tristan is a girl, like the movie.

Summary: You are a freshman at college and your life there started pretty normally. Your best friend is Tristan who is dating Steph who is roommates with Tessa. That was until you went to a party with Tristan and the girls. You had no idea that the mysterious British boy was going to intervene when you come face to face with the Bitch that is Molly.

Warning: Swearing

Pairing: Reader x Hardin Scott

Word Count: 4,423

“Come on Tristan, I told you.” I moan. “I can’t go to another party; I am still recovering from the last one.” I cling to a cold compress, trying my best to shield my eyes from the light that is seeping in through the open door.

Tristan threw a pack of Ibuprofen onto my lap that she snooped around in my bag for. “If it’s that bad, take one of these and get your butt out of that bed.” I groan at the impact from the small box just for the effect. “Don’t be a baby and get up.”

I roll over on the bed to face the wall. “Can’t you just go with Steph?”

“No!” She abruptly spat out. “I want to go with you. Steph is bringing Tessa and I don’t want to show up alone.”

“But you will be with her when you’re there. What’s the point in me getting out of this lovely cocoon that I have made, just to walk you to the party?”

Tristan had her head bent over, pulling her hair into a high ponytail on the top of her head. “You know that what you just said was the whole point.” She sighed. “Everyone is going to stare at me when I walk in there all on my lonesome.”

I eyed the short revealing dress that she was pulling onto her petite and envious body. “You know everyone will be staring at you no matter what if you wear that.” I laugh. “Those legs are going to be the headliner for that party.”

Tristan winked at me and continued adding more accessories to her ever-growing ensemble. “That my dear naïve British friend is the goal of this outfit.” She dropped to her knees faster than I could pry open the antibiotic wrapper. Gripping onto my hand she pulled me away from my mission to rid the world of the swirling furniture before my very eyes. “Y/N, if you do not go, I will literally never talk to you ever again.”

I raised my eyebrow at the sight before me. “Is that a promise.” I bravely say.

“Y/N! Please!”

“Fine alright. Give me five minutes.” I surrender, using every ounce of strength that I had left to lift myself from my comfy nest. “But you owe me, big time.” Tristan’s arms were around my neck faster than I could respond. Her soft lips that I am sure Steph adores, pressed against my forehead.

“I love you so much Miss Y/L/N!” She squealed.

I let out a stiff laugh as I saunter off to the bathroom to sort whatever state I currently appeared to be in.

***

“You know, when you said that this was going to be a cool night for us both? When did I factor into the equation?” I scoff, lifting the red solo cup to my lips. The bitter taste made my stomach curl, but what was worse was not drinking around all these over-the-top drunk people.

Tristan was straddling Steph on the sofa by the side of me. These two did not understand the true definition of PDA and why some people may find it uncomfortable. Including myself.

I inch further down the sofa that was unsurprisingly very sticky. If I wasn’t feeling queasy when I turned up, I certainly felt it now. I try to distract myself from the fact that I had to peel my legs from the leather material just to cross them. The sound was very unflattering.

“Why are you in my seat?” I roll my eyes the minute I recognised the irritating voice that filled me with angst and hatred from across the room. Molly Samuels. Her whole presence just irritates me, and it appears that I am not the only one with this response. I gaze over to my left to see Tessa shaking her head at the general distaste she had for the girl. I lift my cup up to Tessa who shyly mimics. ‘To stuck up bitches, ay?’ I say to myself, quietly so that she couldn’t hear.

Molly pushed Zed Evans and his girlfriend for the night out of her shitty throne causing his date to land hard on her arse. I am sure it wasn’t the first time that Molly has done this to declare her ‘power’ to the whole room. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” The blonde cried as Zed attempted to pick her up from the floor which was soaked in alcohol.

“Does this brat literally think she can talk to me right now?” Molly scoffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Turning to her so-called friends for approval of her comment and actions.

“What did you just call me?” The poor young girl shook off Zed’s protective arm and stepped right in front of Molly’s nose. Probably not the best move, but I have always found that Molly needed taking down a peg or two.

“You heard me, loud and clear” She popped her tongue on the letter ‘l’ in loud. “A little slutty brat who thinks for a second that Zed will call her back after he fucks her tonight.” Molly’s teeth were snarling almost like a wild animal.

“At least I’m not a bitchy whore who thinks that everyone here is her friend.” There were a couple ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ almost as if we were at a panto and not a college party after Zed’s girl’s response.

The second Molly let the words register her hand was leaving that poor girl’s cheek, along with a bright red handprint in its place.

“What the fuck, Molly!” I heard the words clear as day, but I never in a million years imagined that they would come from my mouth. But there I was, standing right in front of Molly, shielding the young girl from another blast to the face.

I could hear people whispering behind my back. ‘What is she doing?’ ‘Is she stupid or something?’ ‘Does she not know what Molly is like?’ Despite being close friends with Tristan, I never would have expected her to step up to defend me, especially when Molly Samuels was involved. She stayed on Steph’s lap; eyes bugged open. Utterly frozen.

“Wow Y/N? Get involved in other people’s business much? Just because your life is too sad, you feel like you can insert yourself into other people’s.” I roll my eyes at her pathetic attempt to rattle me. “You’re just a sad little virgin that no body wants around. Tristan only invited you tonight for her own benefit. Just look around, you don’t fit in here.”

I stay silent. I may have only spoken up once tonight, but that was enough for me. Frat parties are my least favourite place to be. The only reason I came here tonight was for Tristan. I should have left the minute she started making out with the red-haired beauty.

“Cat got your tongue now, bitch.” Molly’s face was inches from mine and I choked on the strong aroma of alcohol on her breath. “Oh, wait I forgot, the girl doesn’t own a backbone.” There were a few stifled laughs here and there. Zed stayed silent, as did Tristan and Steph. None of them making the effort to stand up for me. “Let me guess. Tristan batted her big eyes at you and begged you to come tonight, didn’t she? Then ditched you the moment someone prettier came into the picture.”

I gulp back the bile that I knew had risen to the back of my throat. “Why don’t you go back to your dorm. Oh, better yet, get on a fucking plane and fly back to shitty England. We could only get lucky and hope the thing crashes with you inside it.”

“That’s enough Molly!” The voice behind me held a British twang similar to my own. A voice I had only heard about but never actually seen. The bad boy, Hardin Scott.

Hardin Scott was attractive. Since I got here, I knew he was the talk of the college. Everybody knew who he was and that he wasn’t good news. His white shirt displayed his various tattoos clearly through the thin and tight fabric. His black hair was pushed back to show his piercing eyes and anger set eyebrows. His eyes never left Molly who was stood behind me.

“Oh, Hardin you know I am only messing with the virgin.” She forces a small laugh. “It’s not like I can control the planes is it.” Her head tilts to the side as her gaze locks onto mine, only to intimidate. “I mean I wish I could.” She muttered so that only the people stood around her could hear.

“Do you ever know when to stop!” Hardin barks, not acknowledging me physically. “Do you ever think that you’re the one that people don’t want around?” He questions, moving slowly across the room. I hadn’t noticed but the volume of the once booming music had been lowered to a slight hum in the background.

Hardin was now stood right beside me glaring down at Molly who mimicked his stance. “Ding Ding. Come on guys let’s just drop it!” Nate calls over when he noticed their glares on each other were far from breaking.

Molly was the first to move. “You’re right Nate.” She coos. “Let’s play a game.” She scans the room of her so-called posy who all appeared to be done with her shit for the night. “It’s Friday night. We need to play a game. I will even let the little virgin here play along, too.”

I am very aware that all the eyes were now back on me.

This wasn’t something that I wanted to be a part of. It took me what felt like an eternity to move my feet across the room to where Tristan was sitting. “I am going to head back to the dorms.” I declare quietly to her, but I can tell that they are all listening.

“No please stay, it won’t be the same if you go.” Tristan reaches for my hand which I pull away.

I don’t know why I am letting Molly’s words sink in so much. Everybody who knows her knows that she is full of herself and couldn’t give a shit who she hurts.

“No, it’s late.” It was only nine. “And I have assignments that are due.” I lie, they are all finished. “I’ll see you back at the dorm.”

I start towards the door but I can hear Tristan calling after me to stay.

As I reach the front door to the frat house, I hear Molly’s voice loud and clear. “So, Hardin truth or dare?”

***

The walk back to the dorms was anything but peaceful. The cars were loud and honking at me as they passed. Classy.

I reach for my phone in my bag. I could do with tuning out the world for this half hour walk back in the dark. But my fingers only find a vibrant red lipstick that I couldn’t pull off in a million years.

I stop dead in my tracks. This was Steph’s bag; I grabbed the wrong one during my never-ending embarrassment.

I couldn’t go back, but I couldn’t go further either. Where was I supposed to go, Steph’s key wasn’t in here so it’s not like I could sleep in her room for the night. No cash, key or phone meant that I had no other choice. I had to suck it up and go back.

“Fuuuck!” I shout, not caring that I startled an elderly woman who was placing a rubbish bag in her bin just outside her front door.

“Not a very ladylike thing to say.” I hear a mocking chuckle behind me causing me to jump out of my skin.

When I turn around, I am greeted by the tall British bad boy covered in ink standing about 6 foot in front of me.

His head cocks to the side when I don’t answer him. “You don’t say much, do you?” My eyes scan over his attire, black ripped jeans, white top, and a jet-black leather jacket. “But you do stare a lot, don’t you?” That British chuckle makes it’s second appearance tonight.

“What do you want?” I blurt out, shaking my head at the fact that I was indeed caught staring at the boy.

He steps a little closer to me, closing the gap between us ever so slowly. I watch in amazement at how sexy he makes walking look. “You left this at the party.” I hadn’t realised that he had extended his hand to reveal a clutch bag. My clutch bag.

“Oh!” I speak. “Thanks.” I take the bag from him and prepare myself for the walk back.

“Don’t take any notice of Molly. She is a bitch.”

“Yep.” I chip in, turning to walk back towards the college dorm rooms.

I only get a few steps ahead when I feel a cold sensation wrap around my bare arm. Why the fuck didn’t I bring a coat? I gaze down at the hand that is pressed to my skin. “Where are you going?” He softly says. His tone and action were not at all forceful but something about him made me shiver with fear deep inside the pit of my stomach. I was warned about Hardin Scott. Tristan said that he wasn’t exactly good news around her group of friends. Acting with his fists before connecting his words, that’s what she said at least.

“H-Home.” I stutter, half from the interaction, half from how fucking cold it was. I straighten up. “I am going home.”

“Alone?” He jumps in straight away.

I don’t answer. I just look back at his hand around my arm.

“S-sorry.” He stutters, removing his hand from my arm. “It’s just it’s a long way back to the dorms and it is late.”

I shrug my shoulders at his declaration. “I know.” I simply say and start to walk again but I am blocked by the gorgeous boy standing in front of me. “Oh fuck, you’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“No of course not!” He blurts.

“Good! Now could you” I gesture to the fact that he is stood directly in my path. He catches on to my hint and steps aside.

“You’re not going to walk there alone, are you?” His voice sounding desperate.

I spin and mockingly look around for people, lifting my hand to shield my eyes as I continue my search. This provokes a choked sigh from Hardin. Once I am satisfied with my ‘search’ I say “yep” and continue to walk.

“But it is late.” He chimes in again walking backwards trying desperately not to break my gaze as I try desperately to avoid his. “And you’re alone.”

“Yes, we have established this.” I mock, glaring at the stoned pavement or sidewalk ahead of me.

Hardin reaches both hands out in front of himself creating a wall which stops me from taking another step. “What is your problem?”

I take a step back, alarmed at his outburst. “My problem. You’re the one who has continuously blocked my way for the past ten minutes.” I bark. I try to move around him but he doesn’t budge, copying my actions to stay ahead of me.

“I am trying to offer my services.” Hardin exclaimed but then scowled at his choice of words. I too have a hard time accepting the word ‘services.’ Just as I go to argue he opens his mouth. “Fuck that’s not what I meant to say.” His hands instantly dart to push his hair back out of his face. A nervous tick I assume. What did he have to be nervous about? He is the one stalking after college girls at half 9 at night.

“Look can we start over?” He offers shoving his hands into his jacket. My arms promptly raise to cover my bare arms where goosebumps have started to form. Why didn’t I bring a jacket? “Could I possibly walk you back to the dorms?” His eyes dropped to the ground to stare at a pebble that he toyed with his shoe. Was he anxious?

“Why?” I question fairly quickly.

“I just want to make sure that you get back safe!” His tone wasn’t very friendly. I cock my head to one side. “Sorry, that came out bad.” His tone softening. “I just didn’t like the way that Molly spoke to you earlier and I also hate the fact that you would be walking back in this sketchy neighbourhood alone.”

“Fine.”

***

We walk all the way back to the dorms in silence. Hardin looked uncomfortable the entire time as if he were being forced to be here. I sure as hell did not make him.

I pull the key from my bag and slot it into the lock on the door. Pushing the door slightly open I stand with my arms still draped across my shivering body in the doorway. “Well, thanks for walking me back and bringing me my bag.”

Hardin didn’t budge. His eyes were locked on my body, traveling from my legs to my face. His face turned a shade of white when his eyes caught up to mine. “Fuck!” He announced.

“What!” I jump at his sudden change in demeaner.

“Your lips.” He gestures to my trembling lips that haven’t stopped shaking since I stepped outside of the frat house. “They are fucking blue!” Panic surges over him as he rakes his hands through his hair. “Why didn’t you say you were cold?” He started passing back and fourth in front of me.

“There wasn’t much you could do.” I counter. “My own stupid fault for not bringing a coat.”

I walk inside the room and grab a jacket and throw it on over my shaking body. Hardin enters after me and grabs my hand carefully. “Fuck lot that will do.” He picks up a towel and drags me back down the hallway.

I try to pull my arm back but it is no use. “Where the hell are you taking me?” I say a little too loud. Silently cursing myself if I may have woken up any of the other students living down this dorm.

“The showers now come on.” He tugs a little harder as his feet guide me towards the shared bathroom just a few floors down from my own.

As we reach the bathroom, Hardin throws the towel over the railing and reaches in to turn on the water. I couldn’t help but watch his every move. “Get in!” He cries. Gesturing to the box that was filling with tempting hot steam.

I hesitate. “Y/N, get in the fucking shower.” I jump, not at his tone. But at the fact that he used my name. How did he even know it? Oh right, he was at the party when Molly was insulting me. “If you don’t start undressing now, I will have to start doing it for you.”

I raise an eyebrow but decline his offer, stepping into the box and pulling the curtain across to shield my naked body.

***

Hardin was right, I needed that shower. I hadn’t realised how cold I had gotten from that walk home. I stood in that shower for what felt like half the evening.

I shut off the water and begin to pull the curtain slightly across so that I could reach for the towel that Hardin had placed on the rail when Hardin’s hand slips through holding the towel between his fingers.

“Thanks.” I mutter, draping it around my soaking body.

I step out to find that Hardin’s hair has dropped and started to stick to his forehead in places from the steam. His eyes dart up and down my body, quietly.

I am the first one to break the silence as we stand there in the shared bathroom. “So, I should um, probably get back to my room.”

I watch as Hardin lets my words break him from his still stance. “Yeah, um, after you.” He holds his arm out and follows me out of the bathroom. Something has shifted in Hardin. Tonight, I have seen him; angry, intimidating, shy, solemness and lost for words. It was a lot to take in during a short period of time.

I open the dorm door and step inside. When I hear the door shut, I jump and almost drop the towel. “Shit, sorry I didn’t mean for the door to shut so loudly.” He curses under his breath.

“It’s okay.” I mutter. I cling to the towel as I stare back at Hardin who hasn’t moved or made any effort to leave.

“Y/N?” Hardin’s voice softer than ever tonight, bringing my eyes to meet his. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What do you mean?” My words coming out slowly. His head dropped to face the floor. Was he trying to count the flecks of glitter on the carpet from Tristan’s body butter or something?

“Why didn’t you say that you were cold?” I roll my eyes, this again. Crossing my arms over my stomach.

“Like I said, there wasn’t anything you could have-”

“I could have given you my jacket.” He interjects. Taking a step closer to me. His body was merely a foot away from mine.

“But then you would have been the one with the blue lips.” I counter. Tilting my head to the side in a modest challenging manner.

This stirred something within Hardin, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I know that he isn’t used to a woman not agreeing with every word that comes out of his mouth.

I suddenly shake my head as I feel a slight chill spread up my back. I am still in my towel and now I am very much aware of that. Quickly I turn away from his locked-on gaze.

“Can I have some privacy please.” I mumble, not able to turn around to face him. “I need to, uh, get changed.” I add.

Hardin lets out a small grunt but eventually I do hear the click of my dorm-room door close. I don’t know why but I feel a shed of disappointment at the fact that he listened and actually left.

It takes my hands what feels like hours to release the tight grip that I held on to the towel. Allowing it to fall onto the floor.

“You know what-” I hear the click of the door and his voice fill my ears. I jump from my spot in the middle of the room. He doesn’t finish the sentence, instead Hardin slams the door behind him. “Fuck!” His eyes firm but glued on my body.

I quickly try to grab the towel up off the floor, but it is no use. Hardin instantly placed his foot over the soggy material. “Don’t.” He lets that one word fall from his lips as he slowly continues to decrease the distance between us.

“Hardin!” I shout. “Give-” I can’t finish my argument as I find his finger is placed over the top of my lips.

Hardin doesn’t speak, he just shakes his head. His soft hand moves from my lips and trails off to my cheek, holding me in place. My eyes locked onto his own, frozen in place. I watch as his eyes bounce from my own to my lips, seeking permission. His other hand snaked its way around and laid itself on the small of my back, pulling my naked body closer to his.

I was completely thrown off by the audacity of my body responding to his touch, bringing me to him. Everything happened in slow motion from the second we were back in my room. I knew that Hardin was trouble, everybody did. But no one actually prepares you for a moment like this. Where you are stood in front of a gorgeous guy whose whole attention you own. Did I say he was gorgeous?

I shake my head breaking the eye contact trance I was in. “Har-”

“You’re so beautiful.” He interrupts, breaking right through the barrier I was desperately trying to build. Correction, he shattered the wall to pieces and I find myself pushing my lips aggressively against his, hungry for the contact.

It takes him a second to return the haste in my actions within his own. Moving his lips to mimic the speed that I had set for him. It took no time at all for that jacket that he kept holding over me for not taking since we got back to the room to be thrown onto the floor, revealing the crisp white T-shirt underneath.

His hand wandered lower to lay slightly above my bare arse. While my hands slithered up underneath his shirt. Desperate to feel the skin underneath and to trace the ink that it held. The hand that rested on my cheek now held tightly to the back of my neck making it impossible to break the kiss, not that I wanted to.

I could stay like this forever, kissing Hardin has awoken something inside me that I didn’t even know existed. This overwhelming hunger for his contact. I tug a little on the hair on the back of his head which in response summoned a deep growl from Hardin that I didn’t think I was prepared to hear. Any sense of doubt that we should stop kissing left my mind the second I heard that sound.

“Y/N? You would not believe what you missed after-” Tristan stood in the open doorway, her mouth held open just as wide.

Fuck. I jump back from Hardin and scramble for the towel, concealing my naked form from my roommate. I look over to Hardin who didn’t look at all affected by the events in the last ten seconds.

“I can tell your busy so I will just, yeah.” Tristan steps back and shuts the door behind her.

I run into the closet and quickly throw on a set of underwear and a long-oversized shirt that came down to lie just beneath my arse. “I think it’s about time I start locking that door.” I joke as I step through the closet door.

My eyes roam the room for the handsome boy I was just making out with only to be greeted with an empty room. My shoulders fall, “I guess that’s goodbye.” I mumble, trying my best to hold myself together. Locking the door before falling onto my bed.

Part 2?

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pikapeppa · 3 years ago

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Garrus Vakarian x f!Shepard: Crick

Hello friends and loved ones: I am dipping my toe into Shakarian fic. Haven’t quite decided yet how much to commit to writing this pairing in detail, so here’s a little oneshot set just after the Horizon mission in ME2. ~2400 words. (Tumblr only for now, but I’ll post on AO3 if I decide to write more.)

******************************

Garrus sighed as he made his way to the main battery room. There was a stiff feeling in the left side of his neck and shoulder when he tilted his head, and he was annoyed by it. It was his own fault, really; he’d fallen asleep at his weapons modification table again last night and woken with this crick in his neck that wouldn’t go away.

It was one of those times when he really wished he could get a proper hammer massage. There was that one place on the Citadel that did real Palavenese massage, the good kind that you really felt vibrating all the way through your carapace into your bones, but Garrus wasn’t sure if Shepard would be ordering them back to the Citadel anytime soon.

It’s just a crick, he reminded himself. It could be so much worse. The fight they’d just gone through on Horizon had been… a tough one, to say the least. Any fight with an unfamiliar new enemy could be unnerving, but seeing that Harbinger thing jumping from body to body during the fight had almost been enough to make Garrus pause.

Almost, but not quite. Archangel never hesitated or missed his shot.

He stepped into the main battery room and took a deep breath, then released it in a satisfied sigh. The air in here smelled like clean plastic and a hint of metal, and he savoured the relaxing smell just as he did every time he stepped into this room after a hard fight.

He flicked on the monitors and cracked the joints in his fingers, then started his usual routine of checking the gun settings – a routine that was more for comfort now than necessity, if he was being totally honest. Cerberus might be a pack of crazies doing their twisted human experiments, but they sure made a mighty fine canon.

He finished up his calibrating routine, and he was just about to move on to studying the Collector particle rifle that Shepard had salvaged when he heard the distinct beep-and-shunk of the door unlocking. A second later, the doors slid open, and Shepard stepped through.

She nodded briskly. “Garrus. Just checking in. You doing okay after that fight?”

“I’m just fine, Shepard,” he assured her. “I was about to start looking at your new toy here, actually.”

“That’s great,” she said. “It looks like a powerful little piece of tech. Something we can turn to our advantage, you think?”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “There’s nothing I find more satisfying than using the enemy’s own weapons against them.”

A small smile crossed her face, just as he’d hoped it would. He hadn’t seen a smile on her face all day, not since the Collectors had gotten away with the population of Horizon’s colony. Kaidan’s angry lecture probably hadn’t helped things, either.

She huffed and leaned an elbow on the weapons mod table. “That’s pretty bloodthirsty of you, Garrus.”

“Bloodthirsty? Me? Never,” he said. “Thirsty for justice, on the other hand…”

She laughed — a husky rolling sound that always reminded him, for some reason, of brandy-filled chocolates. “What a line. Did your time on Omega inspire you to dip your toe into writing noir mystery novels?”

“What if it did?” he said playfully.

“Then I’d tell you stick to your dayjob,” she replied.

It was Garrus’s turn to chuckle. Shepard smiled at him once more, then straightened up and nodded at the particle rifle. “I know you just got started here, but I’m interested to see what you find. Mind if I watch you working for a while?”

“No problem,” he said. “Might ask you to throw up a barrier for your own protection, though. This thing doesn’t use conventional heat sinks. I’m not sure yet if it can even be fully turned off.”

She nodded and cast herself a barrier with a quick clench of her fist, and Garrus got to work studying the Collector rifle. He scanned it to build a schematic and explained the exploded view to Shepard, and she frowned thoughtfully and asked questions about the weapon’s uses and disadvantages, and all the while, as he often did, he wondered what she was really thinking.

By any objective standards, it had been a bad day. They’d just watched most of a human colony get taken away by the Collectors. Her former lieutenant had accused her of crimes against her race right after a really tough fight, and when they’d boarded the Normandy once more, the Illusive Man had told her that he’d actually incited the Collectors to target Horizon.

If Garrus was in Shepard’s place, he’d be vibrating with anger by now. But here she was, watching him dismantle a gun with the calmest look on her face.

A solid half hour later, when he’d finished thoroughly surveying the rifle, he tapped his visor from its analysis mode back into its resting mode and looked at her. “I think that’s about all I’m going to do with this rifle for today. You need me for anything else?”

“Nothing else for now,” she said. “Thanks for the demonstration. I’ll talk to you later.” She stepped back toward the door.

On a sudden whim, he opened his mouth. “Shepard, hang on a second.”

She turned back to him. “What is it?”

He hesitated. Now he was wondering if the question at the tip of his tongue was too personal. He and Shepard were friends, sure, but his question might touch a bit of a sore spot, given what had happened today. If Garrus knew anything about Shepard, it was that she wasn’t much of one for talking about her feelings when missions didn’t go as expected. Not that Garrus was a talky-feely sort of guy, either, but still…

She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and he shook himself. He’d called her to turn around; he had no choice but to ask now. “Are you doing okay?”

Her eyebrows rose higher. “Sorry?”

“This whole Collector business on Horizon,” he clarified. “I know it didn’t go down the way we wanted, and then with the Illusive Man being, you know… illusive.” He lifted his shoulders. “It can’t have been easy.”

Her blue-black eyes crinkled at the corners. “You worrying about me, Vakarian?”

“A little, maybe,” he said. “You’ve only taken a dig at me once today.”

Another smile flashed across her face, but it was gone a second later, smoothed back into her usual businesslike expression. “I’m all right,” she said. “It’s a hit to have lost the colony, but we’ll save the next one. I’ll make sure of it.”

He nodded. “Seeing Kaidan was a bit of a shock, huh?”

She huffed and folded her arms. “It wasn’t ideal, but that’s the way it is. He’s got his mission, and we’ve got ours. We can’t lose our focus over personal feelings.”

Garrus nodded again. Everything she was saying was reasonable and true, and her calm attitude was envious, really. If Garrus was able to keep his calm like Shepard did… well, he’d tried to channel Shepard’s calm while he was on Omega, but it had only gotten him so far. Garrus had never known anyone, human or otherwise, who kept their cool all the time quite the way Shepard did.

And yet, for some reason, he just… he wasn’t sure. Her manner struck him as a little bit off, somehow, like the feeling of the crick in his neck.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Anything else?”

“How do you do it?” he said bluntly.

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Keep it together all the time,” he said. “You never seem uncertain. You always seem to know what you’re doing, even if you can’t possibly know. I have to admit, I envy you,” he admitted. “How is it that you always manage to keep it together?”

She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she just stared at him without speaking, and Garrus started to feel a little awkward. It was hard to tell from the look on her face, but he thought that maybe she was… was she angry? Surprised? Bored, maybe? He couldn’t quite tell. Human expressions were usually easy to interpret, with their fleshy lips stretching and pouting and their eyebrows leaping up and down. But when Shepard was in her ‘commander�� mode, she could be so damned hard to read.

She glanced at the closed door. Then, to his surprise, she walked over to him and sat in his chair.

She raked her long black bangs back from her face and looked up at him. “You want to know my secret?” she said.

“Secret?” he said blankly. “To what?”

“To staying calm all the time,” she said. “Can I tell you my secret?”

“Um, sure,” he said.

She leaned toward him, and he instinctively stooped down a bit to hear her better — a good thing that he did, since her voice was low and conspiratorial when she spoke.

“I cry in the shower,” she said.

His guts twisted in a funny way. “What?”

She leaned back in his chair. “I cry in the shower,” she said. “When something really fucked up happens, I get in the shower at the end of the day and I cry like hell.”

He stared at her wordlessly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t this.

A little smile curled the corners of her lips. “What’s wrong? Not the answer you were hoping to hear?”

“It’s — it’s not that,” he said. “I’m just, uh, surprised. You cry in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “Not bullshitting you, I promise. This is not a bet with Joker or anything like that.”

He tried to gather his wits. “So… what, you cry in the shower, and then you just… get back to being Commander Malin Shepard, saviour of the Citadel and resident Reaper conspiracist?”

She chuckled. “Exactly. It’s like a purge. Works perfectly every time.”

He nodded slowly, feeling like he needed some time to process this, and Shepard huffed and punched his arm in a friendly manner. “Not so impressed with me anymore, huh?”

That wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that he was unimpressed. But now he was actually worried about her. In all the time Garrus had known her, he had never once imagined her crying about anything. If what she was telling him was true, though…

Hang on. How often did she cry in the shower, exactly? No, he couldn’t ask that — it would definitely be overstepping.

He scrambled to find a clever reply. “It’s not that,” he said. “Actually, I’m jealous.”

She laughed. “Jealous? Why?” Then her eyebrows rose. “Wait, can turians cry?”

“Sure,” Garrus said. “But we don’t do it often.”

“Is it hard for you to cry?” she asked.

“Well, the turian military doesn’t exactly encourage you to curl up in the corner for a little weeping time,” he said dryly.

She snorted. “Not what I meant. I was more wondering if, uh, since you have deep eye sockets, maybe your tears collect in there somewhere…?”

He flared his mandibles in amusement. “Tears don’t collect in a little reservoir under our eyes or something, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he drawled. “But yeah, we can cry. It just doesn’t happen much. Which leads me to the jealousy,” he added. “You get to sit in your shower crying whenever you feel like it? Forget the private cabin: that’s the real luxury of being the commander.”

She laughed again, more heartily this time, and the husky warmth of her laughter was such that Garrus could almost taste the sweet bite of brandy and bittersweet chocolate. “Well, if you ever want to try it sometime, let me know.”

“Try what?” he said. “Crying in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “You can borrow my private shower instead of using the shared showers down here, if you want. The walls are soundproof, so nobody can hear you wailing.”

For a split second, an image flashed across his mind: Shepard’s private shower. No, not just Shepard’s private shower: Shepard’s private shower, with Shepard in it. Shepard naked in the shower — what did her body look like under those clothes, he wondered? — and he, Garrus, joining her in the shower —

Wait. Wait a second. Why was he thinking about that? He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It was Shepard, for crying out loud: his friend and his CO. Who did he think he was, to imagine his human female CO naked in the shower?

He scrambled to get his thoughts back on track. “I’ll, uh, let you know,” he said. “Might have to train my eyes how to cry, it’s been so long.”

She smirked. “Nice try, Vakarian. Something tells me you’re not quite that heartless.”

He chuckled — a little weakly, to be truthful, but Shepard didn’t seem to notice; she was rising from his chair with a smile. “Well, I should go. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” he echoed, and he watched her surreptitiously as she left the room. Once she was gone, he sat in his chair and closed his eyes.

Crying in the shower… he honestly wouldn’t have guessed it. He’d expected her to give him some kind of encouraging advice or bolstering words of wisdom, like the sorts of things she said to the team before they set off on a mission. But somehow, hearing her say she cried in the shower was… interesting. It made him think about her in a different way. He was worried for sure, but also… comforted, somehow, to know that even Shepard got overwhelmed enough to cry. It seemed that under all that heavy N7 armour, she really was a regular person, too.

Under all that heavy N7 armour… A flash of a thought projected itself on his closed eyelids: Shepard stripping off her armour, her slender human fingers raking her sweat-dampened bangs back from her face, the small bare patch at the nape of her neck where her short spiky hair faded into light golden-brown skin…

He snapped open his eyes. Was he drifting off? He must be more tired than he thought. No other reason that he’d keep thinking about Shepard like this.

He rose from his chair and rolled his shoulders, then clicked in his mandibles in annoyance as the crick in his neck announced itself once more. “Really could use a damned massage,” he muttered. Well, he’d just have to suck it up and wait until they got back to the Citadel.

In the meantime, he’d just have to cope with the strange nagging feeling of the crick in his neck.

#garrus vakarian #garrus #shakarian #garrus/shepard #garrus x shepard #garrus x femshep #Fun fact: Garrus is actually my OG videogame husbando from back in the day #but when i first played the ME trilogy i wasn't a writer #so i could not process my feelings like a thirsty madwoman with too many emotions #I AM A WRITER NOW HOWEVER #AND MY FEELINGS CAN ONLY BE PROCESSED BY BARFING THEM ONTO A SCREEN #pikapeppa writes

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weasleylangs · 4 years ago

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if you don’t know, let me go - f.w

Pairing: Fred x Fem!Slytherin!Reader Summary: It’s always seemed like they’ve been dancing the line between friends and more, so why does he take a different girl to the ball? Warnings: Some swearing, pining that one character is too much of a dummy to see, a bit of angst but it eventually becomes fluff I promise, jealousy but nothing toxic, underage drinking but it’s like one line. Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: This is my first fanfiction in literally forever, so any feedback is always appreciated! Requests are open if you like this and want more! Also this got stupidly long fast, I can barely write book reviews on Goodreads without writing a novel so my bad, I’m sorry if you don’t like long fics. (Also cross-posted on AO3 as the tumblr tags don’t seem to be my friend right now.)

- Also, thank you so much to @lumosandnoxwriting for answering all my questions on how to get back into writing!

Send me an ask or a dm if you would like to be added to a tag list!

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“Do you think he’s going to ask you?”

It’s Wednesday afternoon, late enough for class to be over but too early for dinner and Y/N’s attempt at understanding anything in her potions textbook is broken by Alicia Spinnet talking to her. Despite the fact she hadn’t said a name, Y/N knows immediately who she was talking about and she shrugs in response, closing her book and accepting that studying was not on the table for the rest of the night now the ball has been mentioned.

“Probably not.” She deadpans. Y/N’s been trying not to get her hopes up that Fred would ask her to the Yule Ball since it was announced three days ago. Alicia’s already been asked by George- who immediately did a dramatic reenactment of some muggle proposal he’d seen in a movie as soon as Dumbledore announced it. But Fred had been more reluctant to ask anyone, despite people’s assumption that he could get anyone he pleased. Y/N only hoped this was because he was too shy of taking whatever they were from friends to lovers.

No one really understood how the outspoken and mischievous redhead became friends with the snarky Slytherin girl, but 6 years into their schooling people have stopped questioning it. They had formed an unexplainable bond the second they met on the train to Hogwarts when they were eleven years old that may have included both shouting at blood purists and now it seems to have evolved into something beyond just a friendship.

Lingering stares, soft touches, the fact neither of them had really dated anyone else because they were too caught up with each other. Everyone, including their friends, have all placed bets on how long it’ll take for the two of them to ‘fess up and finally get together.

“What makes you say that?” Alicia asks, genuinely. She’s heard first hand the teasing George and Lee give Fred over his feelings for Y/N in the Gryffindor common room when they think they’re alone so she finds it hard to believe he hasn’t even hinted at them going together yet.

Y/N shrugs. “I just think if he wanted to go with me, he’d ask me by now… Y’know?” Alicia can’t really deny her logic. Fred’s never been the one to shy away from being outspoken about anything really in the whole six years she’s known him, so even she can admit it’s weird that Fred hasn’t asked her.

“Maybe he just assumes you guys are going together?” Alicia starts, and before Y/N can argue back, she holds up a hand, “I’ll ask him after dinner tonight. I can guarantee Lee or George will join in and you’ll have your date by Transfiguration tomorrow!” Y/N shakes her head and laughs, and starts packing her things, mumbling about Alicia is a meddler and that she’ll see her later.

Y/N’s walking to the Great Hall for dinner when it happens. Adrian Pucey, star quidditch chaser for the Slytherin team slinks up next to her and scares her enough to almost drop the books she has clutched in her hands. She’s never had a problem with Adrian- their parents are in similar friendship circles so she sees him at family friend events outside of school, but she’s never considered him a friend either, which is why his approach to her is so odd.

“Sorry about that,” he laughs, shoving his hands in his pockets as Y/N clutches her chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she starts, “You’re just very quiet. I’m used to being almost tackled to the ground when I see friends.” She laughs, but she doesn’t miss the awkward tension in the air and she can’t help but assume what’s coming next.

“I just wanted to ask if, uh, if you don’t have a date to the ball… If you’d like to go with me?”

Y/N gulps. She knows she shouldn’t be putting all her eggs in the Fred Weasley marked basket, but she can’t help but remember her conversation with Alicia only an hour ago.

‘You’ll have your date by Transfiguration tomorrow!’

Adrian senses her hesitation and lets out a breath that sounds like he’s almost laughing. “You’re waiting for one of Weasley twins to ask you, aren’t you? Fred, right?” She hates how easily he caught on.

“Adrian, I- Ugh, I’m sorry. But yeah… I am.” She feels her cheeks heat up in embarrassment at someone she’s not even friends with pointing it out. She can’t help but think maybe this is a sign though, that if everyone else is expecting it, why hasn’t he asked her yet?

“No, it’s all good. But the offers on the table if he’s too pussy to ask you out.” He gives a kind smile as he walks off to catch up with Marcus Flint who’s drilling Malfoy about quidditch plays.

She exhales slowly and finally makes it to the Great Hall. She scans the tables looking for her closest friend in Slytherin- Daphne Greengrass and once she finds her, she quickly makes her way over to her. Dinner is relatively uneventful since she’s sitting with her house, and George manages to catch her eye at one point and mouths ‘miss you’ to which she laughs and says she misses him back.

She’s about to get up and leave when the last thing she expects to happen, happens. She hears Ron exclaim loudly that Fred can’t make fun of him for not having a date because he doesn’t have one either. Y/N feels her heart start to race, knowing if anyone’s going to prove a point to Ron, it’ll be Fred Weasley. She doesn’t hear what Fred’s reply is but Harry and Ron both scoff, and one of them says ‘ask a girl out if it’s so easy then.’

Y/N’s about to approach the Gryffindor table when George’s eye catches her, and he shakes his head. Fred has already thrown a scrunched-up piece of paper at Angelina and her heart sinks.

“Angelina! Will you go to the ball with me?”

As Angelina laughs and says yes to Fred, it feels like the whole Great Hall is either watching their altercation or watching Y/N in pity. Her heart now feels like it’s in her throat, and she needs to get out of the room before she cries or yells at Fred. She pivots on her heel and is met face-to-face with Daphne, who nods in silent agreement that they’re going back to their dorm.

Y/N is halfway down the long tables with the door in her sights when she spots Adrian out of the peripheral of her eye. She can tell he’s looking at her in pity and in a weird way, she feels the need to show defiance against Fred Weasley. She needs to show she doesn’t need pity, especially right now, that she can get a date herself. So she stops in front of the Slytherin quidditch team and slightly smirks.

“That offer to the ball still on the table?”

Daphne spends the night taking Y/N’s mind off the Weasley family. They sit in their dorm together, once again trying to study for potions which eventually leads into ball talk yet again. Daphne can tell the idea of going to the ball with anyone who isn't Fred is unnerving for Y/N, but there’s no backing down now.

“That was kind of a badass move, y’know?” She starts, treading lightly as they eventually reach the elephant in the room, ‘Asking Adrian after what happened.”

It doesn’t feel badass to Y/N. She feels like she’s cheating on the redhead that owns her heart, but she knows that’s ridiculous. Fred clearly has no form of feelings for her and she’s decided to get over him.

“It’s nothing…” She starts and she sees Daphne’s eyebrows raise. They’ve been roommates every year since they started school together so they’re both aware this is a big lie. “I didn’t want to go alone. Everyone else had dates already and Adrian’s nice. Plus, he did ask me before…”

Daphne nods, not wanting to press further. “Have you got a dress yet?” It had said on their packing list for the school year to bring a dress or dress robes so everyone’s already well prepared. Y/N nods and walks towards the closet before pulling out a floor-length silver gown with lace detailing. She smiles shyly as Daphne gasps in awe.

“Eat your heart out, Fred Weasley!” For the first time all night, Y/N laughs. She knows she’s going to look stunning in the dress and while she has no ill resentment towards Angelina for agreeing to go with Fred, she can’t help but feel a little bit coy knowing Fred’s going to see her in it.

She’s sitting at her desk in Transfiguration the next day when he finally acknowledges her presence. She’s twiddling her quill in her fingers, dreading the moment the troublemaker waltzes into the class. His usual seat is the one next to her, while George and Lee sit in front of them but she can only hope Alicia takes the hint and sits with her before Fred does.

She doesn’t get her wish. She’s about two seconds away from dozing off when the seat screeches against the hardwood flooring below them and she looks to her left to see Fred smirking.

“Hi love,'' he starts, the nickname not feeling out of ordinary, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” He says, and it’s true. He hadn’t seen her since class yesterday. He had looked for her before dinner to tell her about the prank he’d pulled on Filch with George while she was studying and he’d barely seen her during dinner.

Her heart starts to speed up at the nickname, and she forces down the bile she feels growing in her throat. “Yeah, I just ate dinner and went to bed yesterday. Been studying for potions. Sixth year is hard.” She’s trying to be short and sweet and maybe a little blunt but Fred doesn’t pick up on it. “Heard you asked Angelina to the ball too.” She’s hoping to whoever’s listening to her prayers that the jealousy isn’t evident in her voice and by the dopey smile that grows on Fred’s face, her prayers were answered.

“Yeah! Ron was being such a prat, telling me I couldn’t make fun of him for…” But she drowns his voice out. It might be a bitch move, but she really doesn’t need to hear the who, where, when and why he asked Angelina out. It’s clear to Y/N that Fred didn’t even notice her existence at dinner and that stings more than she’d like to admit.

She can barely concentrate during class. Fred has never really shown to care about any academic success, so he spends the entire period trying to entertain Y/N and get her to speak to him but she’s being stubborn and Fred can’t help but wonder what he did wrong. He starts to think maybe she’s just had a bad day, but when the bell rings and she storms off without even saying goodbye to him he’s dumbfounded.

“Trouble in paradise, brother?” George teases when he sees the frown adorned on Fred’s face.

“Have I done anything to upset Y/N?” He questions and he sees the way George and Lee both give each other a look. They know something he doesn’t and that leaves a feeling of uneasiness in his chest. Y/N and himself have always been closer than her and George and especially her and Lee. He was there for her when her parents were fighting constantly when she was 11 and when Marcus Flint started bullying her in 3rd year. He was even there when she cried to him last year about the guy she loved and how he was so stupidly blind to her feelings and while she didn’t give a name, Fred was dying to go punch whoever it was for not realising he had his best friend’s heart.

“If you have, it’s not up for us to tell you, mate.” Lee states and he hides behind George when he notices the scowl on Fred’s face. Lee knows better than to get between him and Y/N, but he isn’t wrong.

“Look, Alicia said she was fine when they left the library yesterday evening,” George starts, and he knows he shouldn’t be lying to his brother and best friend, but it’s not a huge lie, and maybe it’ll push his oblivious brother to realise what he did to upset his best friend, “She was at dinner last night when you asked Angie to the ball and then she went to her dorm with Daphne. Heard something about her saying yes to Adrian Pucey asking her to the ball…” While George made extra emphasis on the fact Y/N witnessed Fred asking Angelina to the ball, Fred’s eyes glaze over in rage when George mentions Adrian and he has a feeling his twin has got the wrong idea.

“I bet Adrian did something to her. Fuck him, honestly.” And before George and Lee can stop him, Fred’s stalking out of the classroom with Adrian Pucey in his sights.

Fred doesn’t find Adrian until later that afternoon, standing on the pitch and clad in his quidditch robes, yelling at someone who Fred assumes is Montague. He thinks now is probably a bad time to confront him, but he's blinded by the thought that he’s hurt Y/N.

“Pucey!” He shouts and when Adrian turns around, he chuckles and smirks at Fred. He was expected this later rather than sooner, specifically during dinner, but he guesses now will have to do.

“What?” He asks, but they both know why he’s here and he’s just enjoying riling Fred up.

“What did you do Y/N?” Adrian scoffs at this and shakes his head which confuses Fred. “What did I do to Y/N?” Fred stands his ground, chest puffed up. Adrian might be a fair bit shorter than Fred but Adrian hasn’t got anything to be scared of. Sure he’s seen Fred throw a punch or two and he’s definitely been on the receiving end of a bludger from the Weasley during a game, but he knows he isn’t the one that hurt Y/N here.

“I think you should be asking yourself that, mate. Y/N only agreed to going to the ball with me after you asked Angelina out right in front of her.” This causes Fred to look at Adrian in confusion and Adrian laughs at Fred again. He’s confused, why would asking Angelina out hurt Y/N?

It turns out he said that out loud, because two seconds later Adrian is responding to him, “Because she was expecting you to ask her, Weasley.”

Adrian doesn’t even wait for Fred’s reply before stalking off to the Slytherin change rooms and Fred’s left standing on the pitch, wondering why the ache in his chest is almost debilitating at the thought of hurting Y/N and questioning why he feels the need to throw up knowing she’s happily going with Adrian Pucey.

Fred’s next port of call is finding Y/N. After his talk with Adrian, he needs to find out why she expected him to ask her to the ball. He would’ve happily gone with her, but to Fred, she hadn’t even dropped a single hint at wanting to go with him and when she’s finally located, she’s in the library with Daphne.

“This is my exit cue,” Daphne mutters as she notices the redhead roaming around the library looking for Y/N. She doesn’t even have a moment to question Daphne before the seat in front of her is suddenly occupied by the last person she was hoping to see again.

“Why are you going with Pucey?” Is the first thing that leaves Fred’s mouth, and it wasn’t what Y/N was expecting. She splutters, only for a few seconds, before eventually replying.

“He asked me.”

Fred’s eyebrows furrow, but didn’t Pucey say she wanted to go with him? “A little birdie said you wanted to go with me. So, how come you’re going with him.”

Now Y/N scoffs and Fred can’t help but notice how many people are scoffing at him today just for asking questions and it’s getting annoying. “You didn’t ask me. He did. So, I said yes. Don’t understand why it’s such a big deal.” She’s intentionally being short, hopefully not spilling anything about her feelings for the boy in front of her.

“I didn’t know you wanted to go with me, Y/N. How was I supposed to know?” At this, Y/N goes from feeling hurt to angry and she can’t explain why her hands start to shake.

“How were you supposed to know?” She exclaims loudly which causes her to receive a rather nasty ‘sh’ from Madam Pince and a few O.W.L students surrounding her.

“Have you seen the way we act around each other Fred?” She’s now whisper yelling and the confused look on Fred’s face as she says this just aggravates her further and she’s convinced no one is this daft and he’s pushing her buttons on purpose. “Because everyone thinks we’re fucking dating already, Fred. You have to constantly be touching me, we’re always together, you call me darling and love and you kiss me on the forehead when I fucking bring you sugar quills from Hogsmeade because they’re your favourite and whenever you have spare money you always buy me Honeydukes chocolate because you said you like seeing me blush when you buy me things. You’re telling me now that we’re just friends?”

If the ache in Fred’s chest was almost debilitating on the quidditch pitch earlier, right now it feels like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. Her cheeks are flushed, her fists are clenched, pieces of her hair are falling out of her bun that’s resting on top of her head and, worst of all, Fred’s noticed the tears of anger and frustration pooling in her eyes.

She sighs before continuing, trying to compose herself so he doesn’t see her crying over him, unaware he’s already noticed the tears threatening to fall. Her voice is sad and broken, and it feels like the ending point for her.

“I was just stupid enough to assume this year was the year we would finally admit we’re more than friends, Freddie. But I guess all this time it’s been one-sided. I hope you have a good time at the ball with Angelina.”

Fred grabs her wrist as she starts to pack up her things and looks at her, scanning her face for any form of emotion. “Let me go, Fred.” She looks at him with pleading eyes and he lets go of the grasp he has on her wrist.

Fred doesn’t try to stop her again as she hastily packs up her things and he sadly watches her leave the library without turning to look at him.

Y/N doesn’t care if it’s considered dramatic, but she lays in bed and cries for the rest of the day. While she hasn’t gone through a literal break-up, it feels like her friendship with Fred is over. At least, she’s decided, it’s over until she gets over her feelings for him.

Daphne tries everything in her power to comfort her. She rubs her back, plays with her hair and even puts on ABBA to try and get Y/N to dance just to cheer her up. Y/N feels horrible she’s basically conned Daphne into babysitting her breakdown but Daphne constantly reassures her it’s okay.

“Do you want me to go beat him up? I might be short and weak and he’s the size of a tree but I could take him.” Y/N sniffles a laugh at this, and smiles. She’s truly grateful for everything Daphne’s been doing for her and she makes a mental note to get her an extra special Christmas present next time she goes to Hogsmeade.

However, it turns out essentially ending the friendship with Fred ends her friendships with most of the Gryffindors. She was expecting this, but when George can’t even meet her eye in class her heart breaks into even smaller pieces. George has always been like a brother to her, someone she could tell anything too without worry of being judged. He was the first person she told when she realised she liked Fred and Y/N was the first person, besides Fred, that George told his feelings for Alicia for.

Y/N feels alone but she’s stubborn so she refuses to show it. She sits with Daphne in every class, essentially kicking poor Cassius Warrington who’s been pining after Daphne for 3 years into a different spot in class and she sometimes even sits with Adrian during lunch. It turns out they have a lot more in common than just the fact they’re in Slytherin and pure-bloods and Y/N’s pain in her chest is slowly but surely disappearing.

While her feelings for Fred still exist, her heart slowly feels like it’s being mended. It’s only when she spots Fred sulking during lunch one day that the ache returns. She was usually the one who he went too when feeling bad- him being too embarrassed to go to George. She hopes he’s okay, but she shakes the idea of approaching him, knowing he’s got Angelina to keep him company. The pang in her chest stays a little bit longer that day.

The Yule Ball arrives quicker than expected and Y/N and Daphne spend all day getting ready with a bunch of other Slytherin students. It’s nice, while they don’t all usually get along, the house loyalty between them is unmistakable.

Most of them are acutely aware of Y/N’s ‘Weasley Situation’ and while some of them give her pity looks, most of the younger girls have expressed their jealousy that she’s going with Adrian. This makes her laugh and shake her head and she often replies that boys aren’t all that and no boy is worth being jealous over. She feels like a wise mother almost, never wanting them to feel the way she’s felt the past few weeks.

Daphne and Y/N arrive at the Great Hall together, giggling about how bad Y/N is at walking in heels and placing bets on how quick they’re going to come off. While Daphne is counting her galleons in her purse to confirm the bet, Y/N catches a glimpse of Fred and Angelina. He looks so handsome, his dress robes a mixture of gold and black and she can’t help but think how well they’d go together. But when she looks at Angelina she feels like she’s going to pass out.

Angelina is stunning, and there’s no doubt about it. She’s in a floor-length dark purple gown that compliments her skin perfectly and Y/N thinks if Fred was going with anyone to the ball, she’s glad it’s Angelina.

Cassius and Adrian soon appear by the girls and take their arms into the Great Hall that’s been transformed to look like a winter wonderland. The roof tonight is bewitched to look like a winter, snowy day and Y/N can’t help but admire it. She’s grown up with magic her entire life, but she can’t help but constantly be amazed.

Adrian pulls a flask out of his dress robes jacket which makes Y/N snort and he smiles happily at her. Of course he snuck Firewhiskey into the Ball. The action reminds her of something Fred would do and she shakes her head, trying to get the boy out of her mind, tonight of all nights.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” Adrian states as he takes a swig of the flask, and she feels her cheeks heat up. She can hear the sincerity in his voice. “You don’t scrub up so badly either, Pucey.”

“A dance, m’lady?” He jokingly bows to Y/N and she smiles while she takes his hand and he leads her to the dance floor. As Adrian twirls Y/N around the dance floor, albeit messily because neither of them paid attention in dance classes held by Snape of all people, she forgets about the redhead who’s stare is burning holes into the back of her head.

“You’re a shit date, y’know.” Angelina laughs and Fred’s broken out of his trance. “Shit, Angie, I’m so sorry.”

Angelina isn’t wrong. She’s a smart girl, and she’s well aware of Fred’s longing stares towards the Slytherin girl. “Did you know? That you wanted to go with her?” Angelina questions, out of sheer curiosity. Even she was shocked when Fred asked her, but she was too dumbfounded when he asked and with everyone watching at dinner, the pressure to say yes was immense but it was not worth all the pain and heartache she’s watched her two friends go through.

“At the time? No, definitely not. She’s…” He trails off as he tries to find the right words, “She’s always been there, y’know? I just assumed she’d be in my life forever and what we had was what we’d always be… It felt normal, like I didn’t feel the way I feel about her with you, or Katie or Alicia but it felt like that’s how you’re meant to feel about your girl best friend?”

He looks over at them again, and the gross feeling of jealousy rises in his throat. “But then she said yes to Pucey, and all I can think about is how no one should be holding her but me and that he'll walk her all the way back to her dorm tonight and probably kiss her and I feel like throwing up, and...” He pauses and looks at Angelina and the pity in her eyes is obvious. “And you don’t think about your best friend like this.”

Angelina watches in pity as Fred clearly drowns his sorrows in pumpkin juice and she drags him onto the dance floor. She’s not letting Fred have a bad night and she refuses to have one as well. Fred is one of her best friends, and even though she might not be the girl he wishes he was here with, she’s determined to cheer him up somehow.

Fred finally starts to have a good time when he spots George slyly leading Alicia out of the Great Hall and he loudly wolf whistles causing a red hue to form on both their cheeks and George to flip Fred the bird as they leave. Angelina spots Y/N grab her purse across the room while Fred’s distracted and she quietly leaves just after George and Alicia.

Alone.

“Y/N just left, Fred. Alone.” Fred’s confused why Angelina is telling him this when he looks over at Daphne and Adrian, who both look at him like ‘Go you fucking idiot’ and before he can even mutter a goodbye to his friends, he’s out the door almost as fast as George was.

He finds Y/N sitting on a bench in the courtyard. She’s looking up at the stars and Fred stars to recall last summer when she visited The Burrow. She spent all night trying to point out constellations to Fred and as he watches her mutter to herself, Fred wonders how he didn’t realise that they were in love this entire time.

He clears his throat, careful not to startle Y/N and when she turns Fred can see the hesitation in her face as she quickly goes to jump up and leave.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have stolen the prime make-out spot of the night.” She awkwardly laughs but then quickly realises Fred is alone. “Nevermind… Where’s Angelina?”

Fred shrugs, and sits down on the bench she was sitting on originally. Y/N stands awkwardly before sitting down next to him. As much as she hates to admit it, she’s missed being close to him. The warmth that radiates off him despite it being the middle of winter causes her to shuffle just that slightly bit closer to him and Fred can’t help but smile.

“You look beautiful tonight. I know Adrian probably told you already, at least I hope he did, but you deserve to know.” Fred could feel himself rambling and he doesn’t miss the blush that rises across Y/N’s neck and cheeks. It’s the exact same blush that appears whenever he buys her chocolates and his heart soars.

“Thanks Freddie,” the nickname feels foreign on her tongue, “you look pretty handsome yourself. I hope Angelina told you.” She retaliates and Fred hates it. He hates the awkwardness between them. He wants nothing more to wrap his arms around her and hold her close but they feel like strangers.

“Thanks,” he laughs and Y/N looks at him confused. “Did you have a good night?”

“Can we not have this awkward small talk? I’m sure Angelina’s waiting for you somewhere.” Fred’s taken aback by her abruptness and stares at her for a few seconds. “What?” She asks when she notices Fred looking at her like she has nine heads.

“Angelina’s not waiting for me. Is Adrian waiting for you?” He asks but he doesn’t want to know the answer. He’s gone through a rollercoaster of emotions these past few weeks and he truly doesn’t want to know if another man is waiting for her to sweep her off her feet and walk back to the Slytherin common room. But when she shakes her head, Fred lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“I need to apologise.” He blurts out and Fred wants to smack himself in the head. This was not the romantic moment he had envisioned in his head as he followed her outside into the courtyard. “I need to apologise for a lot of things. Mostly, for not realising how ridiculously in love with you I am, and also for not asking you to the ball and for ruining our friend-”

“You didn’t ruin our friendship.” She cuts him off but she doesn’t know what else to say. “You didn’t. I did, if anything.” Fred has to stop himself from starting an argument on who ruined the friendship but he wants to backtrack. Did Y/N just ignore him confessing his love to her?

“Well, I’m still sorry for not realising how ridiculously in love with you I am?” He tries again sheepishly and Y/N gives him a double-take. She heard him the first time but she was convinced it was just her ears playing tricks on her or Fred being a menace. After all, this is Fred Weasley in front of her, he’s always looking for a joke and as she’s about to accuse him of pulling a sick, twisted prank on her, she looks at him properly.

And he’s looking as serious as he did the day he told her he plans to open a joke shop with George after they graduate.

“You’re in love with me?” She asks quietly and her heart is racing again. She thinks back to the day she accidentally confessed to Fred and how she’s spent the last few weeks trying to fall out of love with him just for him to admit he’s fallen in love with her. “Fred, if this is some sick and twisted joke I will never forgive you.”

Fred almost looks hurt at this, that she thinks he’s capable of something that cruel. So instead of speaking, he softly cups her face in both his hands and runs his thumbs across her cheekbones in a loving manner. He looks her directly in the eyes and Y/N doesn’t think she’s breathed in the last 30 seconds.

She’s been craving being this close to Fred for as long as she can remember. Their lingering touches were never this intimate and right now, she feels like she can look into Fred’s eyes and see into his core, his soul. And he can do the same to her.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly, and Y/N gasps before nodding, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips against hers.

As he leans in his eyes flutter close, as do her’s. Y/N hasn’t kissed a lot of people in her life, but nothing could ever compare to the way she feels right now. The love and adoration Fred is pouring into this kiss almost brings tears to her eyes and she can only hope he can feel the love and adoration she has for him back.

Their lips move in perfect synchrony, neither of them pushing each other too far, but when Y/N drags her fingers through Fred’s hair and he lets out a groan, she can’t help but pull away and giggle.

“I’ve missed hearing you laugh.” Fred’s arms are now wrapped around her middle and he’s leaning down to press his forehead against hers. Now he has her in his arms, he’s never letting her go.

“I’ve missed having you make me laugh, Freddie.” She says sincerely and it’s Fred’s turn to blush. He knows they need to eventually leave their little bubble of happiness they finally have but he doesn’t want too. But he knows they need to talk about what happened, about them, what they are and Fred so desperately hopes this means Y/N is his.

She senses Fred’s thinking and she looks up at him, doe-eyed and innocent and Fred’s heart melts.

“Stop overthinking.” She mutters, running her hand through his long hair again and Fred almost looks like a cat purring as he feels her fingernails rake across his scalp and he leans into her touch. “Can’t help it. Don’t want to lose you again.”

Her heart pounds, this is all she’s ever wanted to hear and now she wants to hear it every single day. So she tells him exactly that.

“I’m yours, Freddie. As long as you’re mine? If you don’t know what you want it’s okay, I promise we can take it slow-” Fred cuts her off, laughing as he kisses her again and he feels how warm Y/N’s cheeks are, as she blushes over Fred silencing her with a kiss. When he pulls back, her face is flush, her hair is falling out of her bun. It reminds Fred of that day in the library, except this time, the happiness in her face is unmistakably there, and finally he’s the cause of it.

“Of course, I’m yours, darling. I’m never letting you go.”

Late the next morning, when Y/N is trying her best to sneak out of the Gryffindor sixth year boys dormitory with a dark purple hickey adorning her neck, she spots three 4th years whose names she doesn’t even know, giving Ron Weasley five galleons.

Ron sees her, and smirks. “My bet was at the ball. Thanks, Y/N, you and Freddie boy have made me a very rich man.”

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#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley x reader

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steves-on-a-plane · 4 years ago

Text

First Date

Words: 1493 Pairing: Bucky x Reader Warning: none Summary: Reader and Bucky have been set up by their mutual friend Sam Wilson. Things start off awkward at first, but after Reader shares a bit about herself and her life, Bucky warms up enough to share some details about his own life.

“James?” You asked the man sitting at the table with uncertainty. Well Sam had been right about one thing, he certainly was handsome. He had steely blue eyes and a strong jawline. He was wearing a motorcycle jacket and a pair of riding gloves. He looked up from the book he’d been reading. “I’m Sam’s friend…”

“[Y/N].” He finished for you in a gravelly voice. “Please sit down.” He invited you to join him at the table’s only other empty seat. So you shrugged off your jacket and sat down. It was a nice enough night, just over fifty degrees out, but you’d wished you’d worn something warmer.

“I should have worn a sweater.” You mumbled mostly to yourself.

“You could keep the jacket on.” He suggested in a way he thought was helpful.

“I would but it doesn’t quite fit. It’s been too small for a while now.” You confessed. “But it’s my lucky jacket.” He leaned sideways in his seat to steal a peak at the jacket in question.

“You have a lucky denim jacket?” He straightened in his chair again.

“I’ve had this jacket since I was in high school. I took my SATs in this jacket, wore it to my first job interview. What can I say,” You shrugged. “Just because something’s old doesn’t mean it’s outworn its usefulness.” This made him laugh for some reason. “Reading anything good?” You attempted to read his book’s title upside down.

“Oh, not really.” He shrugged.

“I’ve never read Lord of the Rings. Is it your first time through?” You asked him.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “You, ah, you read?”

“Are you asking if I know how to read?” You question.

“What? No I was just…”

“Relax.” You smiled at him. “I was just teasing. Tolkien’s not my thing, though. I don’t need to read three pages about the Baggins’ legacy handkerchief collection. Now the Star Wars novels…” You let your sentence trail off as you nodded with approval.

“They have Star Wars books too?” He seemed almost exhausted by the idea.

“Hundreds of them.” You confirmed.

“Have you ever eaten here before?” He questioned, bringing his attention to the menu.

“No, I assumed you had.” You said, also picking up your menu.

“Sam recommended it.” He mumbled.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s great then.” Sam was a bit of a foodie so there was a high probability any place he recommended was good. As you skimmed the menu, scanning your options you noticed the prices were a bit over your own budget.

“This place seems…expensive.” You commented, unable to phrase it more delicately.

“Oh? You don’t find Forty-five dollars a reasonable price for pasta and chicken?” He scoffed.

“I know a place not too far away, do you maybe want to get out of here?” You suggested. James looked down at the menu in his hand, seeming to weigh the options.

“If Sam asks, we both had the steak, and it was delicious.” He smiled getting to his feet. You put your lucky jacket back on and followed James out of the restaurant. “So how do you know Sam?” He wanted to know once the two of you were walking in step together.

“Ah, work…sort of.” You told him vaguely. “You?”

“Same.” He replied quickly.

“Are you a veteran?” You questioned.

“You could say that.” He sighed. “You?”

“No, my Dad was. Vietnam.” You explained. “I met Sam while I was helping out the VA.”

“You said was. Is your father…” He couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Yeah. It’s been years now, so my mother and I have adjusted to life without him, but there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t feel like there was more we could have done for him.” You shook your head. “I’m so sorry, this is a terrible conversation for a first date.”

“No, no it’s fine.” He insisted. “Much better than asking me about a childhood pet or I don’t know, my favorite color. It’s refreshing to have someone share their life so openly.”

“Oh? It can go both ways, ya know.” You elbowed him playfully.

“What do you want to know?” He asked stuffing his hands in his pockets. You continued walking, taking a minute to think of something interesting to ask him.

“What is something you’d never bring up on a first or second date, but your romantic partner should know?” You asked. He stopped walking, which surprised you. You stopped too, turning to look back at him.

“I’m a hundred and three years old.” He said before continuing down the street.

“Okay, well if you’re not going to take it seriously, don’t open the door to…” You rolled your eyes before chasing after him.

“I’m being serious.” He insisted, not looking at you.

“How can you be a hundred and three years old? The only person who looks as good as you and is that old is Captain America. The internet says he’s up on the moon or whatever but either way you’re not Captain America. So how could you possibly be that old?”

“Never mind. Forget I said anything.” He mumbled. You wanted to prod some more but you’d reached your destination. “C’mon.” You tugged him by the elbow towards a small hole in the wall restaurant.

The restaurant wasn’t much. It was certainly small with only about ten tables. The décor was simple and slightly outdated. Along one wall was a mural of Italian wine makers stomping grapes. There were yards of faux grape vines winding and twisting like trim across the top of the dining room. Some sections of vine even had plastic grapes dangling from them. The tabletops were well worn, their red and white gingham patterned had faded slightly over the years. It wasn’t much, but it was warm and the food was good.

“Best pizza in the whole city, I swear.” You promised as you dragged him inside.

“This place doesn’t even look open.” He commented with uncertainty. There was no one in the dining room when you arrived, but at the sound of the bell over the door, A short woman in an apron stepped out from the kitchen. A teenage boy in all black stumbled out beside her.

“I’m so sorry, but we are closed for tonight. You come back tomorrow.” The woman started to say in her thick Italian accent.

“Ma, it’s me.” You rolled your eyes. Your mother squinted at you, before putting her glasses on. She beamed with a smile once she recognized you.

“[Y/N]? But you are supposed to be out on a date, not here.” She argued.

“Well, I brought my date here. Ma, Marco, this is…” You began to introduce him.

“Bucky, Ma’am. My friends call me Bucky.” He introduced you.

“Are you taking good care of my [Y/N], Bucky?” Your mother asked.

“Ma, leave him alone. He hasn’t even been able to eat yet.” You told.

“Not eaten?” You mother seemed scandalized. “You left an hour ago to go to that fancy restaurant! Sit, sit, both of you. Marco, go get table setting for your cousin!” She ordered the young boy.

“è bello, no?” You mother whispered to you. You wanted to chastise her, but Bucky replied back in Italian.

“Non bella come tua figlia.” He smirked.

“I will cook something special for you, Bucky.” You mother decided.

“Just pizza will be fine, Ma!” You called after her. “So, you speak Italian?” You quested as the two of you sat at the nearest table.

“You don’t?” He continued to smile.

“Not since my dad…” You confessed looking around.

“I’m guessing this was his place?” He nodded towards the large neon sign behind the bar proclaiming the restaurant as Antonio’s.

“It was my grandfather’s. Then my dad took it over and he was a terrible cook.” You laughed. “He hired my mom to be his chef, that’s how they met. They were a perfect team for over thirty years. Since then, we’ve been doing everything to keep it afloat. It’ll kill both of us to lose it.”

“I really am a hundred and three.” He said again, not knowing what else to say. “I tell people that I wear these gloves because I have poor circulation, but the truth is…” He tugged off his right glove first, then his second. You noticed, even in the dim lighting of the restaurant his left hand seemed to be made of metal. “It’s vibranium.” He told you flexing his fingers so you could see them.

“Bucky.” You repeated. “A hundred and three. Are you the guy they were looking for all those years back? The one they thought did the Socovian Accords bombing?”

“How can you be sure I didn’t do it?” He asked.

“I just have this feeling about you.” You shrugged. “Like you’d never hurt a fly. So, tell me, Bucky. How do I get to be a hundred and three and still look as good as you?”

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Reader Insert #Bucky Barnes Fan Fiction #Bucky Barnes Fan Fic #Bucky Barnes FF #TFATWS

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nmikaelsonimagines · 4 years ago

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Coney Island: A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Request from Anon: how about coney island x klaus? it’s my absolute favorite song off evermore 💓

Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

Coney Island

Break my soul in two looking for you But you're right here If I can't relate to you anymore Then who am I related to?

Klaus had spent hours looking for that photograph.

He couldn’t find it anywhere, but he wasn’t going to give up. Not until he had that image of Y/N in his hands, that one where she smiled the most beautiful, the most genuine of smiles, caught in mid-laughter at something he had said.

She was always laughing at something that he said, and he had always joined in, embracing the person that gave him so much light in his life. She was part of his soul, and that photograph was a reminder of that.

The part of his soul that was now missing. Gone. Wiped from existence.

People kept telling Klaus that Y/N was still here, still in his heart, always in his memories. If one more person said it to him, he was going to start throwing things. Y/N was gone, dead, and there was no way of bringing her back. He hadn’t felt her presence in the weeks since it had happened, and so well wishes meant nothing to him.

He needed to find that photograph, needed to see her face the way he wanted to remember it. He kept looking, memories causing more pain than he would have liked.

Klaus wanted to smile when he remembered Y/N.

And if this is the long haul How'd we get here so soon? Did I close my fist around something delicate? Did I shatter you?

Klaus remembered the promise he had made to Y/N after her first encounter with the danger that accompanied life with a Mikaelson. He had put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her with such love, with such candor that she knew he meant every word.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you, Y/N. Never. I promise.”

She had put her hand on his cheek, and he had breathed her in. “I know.”

As Klaus continued to search, he realised he had broken that promise. He was bound to eventually, it was what he did, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon, for him to lose her so quickly, for her to have to wait in the afterlife for what would be years.

He had broken her, just as he broke everything good that ever came into his life. She was delicate, perfect, and he had destroyed her just by loving her. But she had loved him, and surely that thought was worth holding onto.

Klaus shook the image of her lifeless body out of his mind. He didn’t want to see her like that, not again, not when it was the image that his nightmares were now formed out of.

Klaus wanted to smile when he remembered Y/N.

And I'm sitting on a bench in Coney Island Wondering where did my baby go? The fast times, the bright lights, the merry go Sorry for not making you my centerfold

Klaus remembered the day Y/N had told him she loved him for the first time, sat on a bench by the coast, fingers tangled in his. He had never felt anything even close to what those three words made him feel, and in that moment, he knew she was his, and would remain so until her dying day.

Maybe even after that.

It was unfortunate that time went so fast, that she met that bright light so soon. They should have met it together, should have walked towards it with merry smiles at the knowledge they would be together forever. But now she was alone and Klaus couldn’t bear that thought.

Couldn’t seem to quench the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he thought of Y/N’s ghost, stuck in limbo, watching him and unable to reach out. Y/N’s ghost haunting him, forever experiencing the pain in which she had died.

He needed to stop, needed to think of her voice, happy and lilting, his name rolling off her tongue with ease and affection. Her voice was musical, a lifeline that always brought him back down to earth.

Klaus wanted to smile when he remembered Y/N.

Over and over Lost again with no surprises Disappointments, close your eyes

Klaus was starting to think that the photograph had been lost forever. He couldn’t bear the thought, disappointment already sinking in. He closed his eyes, breathing steadily to control his anger. It wouldn’t help him to start throwing things, making his job of finding that image of Y/N more difficult if the room was a mess.

It had to be here. It just had to be.

Klaus ran his hands through his hair, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. If that photograph was gone, then so was Y/N, so was any link to her, any possibility of feeling her presence near him.

He scanned his bedroom, no, their bedroom one last time, his eyes catching on a stained piece of paper sticking out of Y/N’s book. He had avoided her bedtime reading, not wanting to disturb it, but the bookmark caught his attention. Taking another deep breath, fingers trembling, Klaus opened up the novel.

His heart stopped when he saw it. The photograph. Y/N and Klaus caught in mid-laughter, just enjoying each other’s company. Klaus held onto it so tightly, he was surprised it didn’t rip, suppressing any thoughts of sadness.

Klaus wanted to smile when he remembered Y/N.

And it gets colder and colder When the sun goes down

Klaus sat on the bed staring at the photograph until the sun went down. No-one interrupted him, knowing that he needed this time, needed it to process everything that had happened only a few weeks ago.

He hadn’t cried yet. Everyone told him it was shock. Everyone was waiting for him to explode. Needless to say, he had come close to it more than once, but Y/N wouldn’t have wanted that. She would have wanted him to be happy.

He was trying, he really was.

The only thing he had wanted was to find that photograph and now that he had, he wasn’t quite sure what to do next. For the first time since she had left him, Klaus felt Y/N’s presence and he shivered at it, warmth flooding his heart as he looked at her tinged with the coldness that came with death.

There was that lump in his throat again, and Klaus didn’t realise he was crying until the first tear dropped onto the photograph in his hands. It was followed by another, then another, raining down on Y/N’s laughing face unable to stop.

Klaus wanted to smile when he remembered Y/N.

But first, he needed to grieve.

Masterlist

Evermore Masterlist

#TVD #tvd imagine #tvd imagines #the vampire diaries #to #the originals #the originals imagine #the originals imagines #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagines #klaus mikaelson x reader #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson imagines #niklaus mikaelson imagine #niklaus mikaelson x reader #Joseph Morgan

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

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immovable object.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: happy birthday aaron hotchner!! here’s a little something i cooked up, just for y’all who wanted to see something from aaron’s point of view. i figured a birthday would be as good a time as any to share a little bit of aaron’s head, even if it’s not his (actual) age this year. as always, i love to hear what you think! takes place au!november 2018

words: 2.3k warnings: language, implication of sex, light drinking/alcohol use

summary: “the years between fifty and seventy are the hardest. you are always being asked to do things, and yet you are not decrepit enough to turn them down.” - t.s. elliot

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

Fifty.

Aaron wasn’t sure where he’d be by fifty. He’d only had loose examples over the course of his life, as his father kicked it before he got to that point. But then again…

His father never appreciated what he had. Two sons, different to the point of extremity, a wife who loved him even through all his (many) shortcomings, and a big house in northern Virginia that he could afford with his very plush salary working on The Hill as a prosecutor. Nevertheless, he drank himself to death at forty-seven.

So…

Where am I at fifty?

He looks down into his lap, finding Caroline tucked into the crook of his elbow with a hand in her mouth while they sit in his armchair. She’s teething now, but she isn’t half as unbearable about it as Isaac.

Isaac.

Aaron scans the room, finding his son with Spencer and Hank at the formal dining room table. Spence has them both in his lap and reads aloud from whatever Russian novel he’s flying through. As Aaron listens closer, he realizes Spencer is translating as he goes, reading the book in English.

Tolstoy should be fine for toddlers...right?

Another scan sends him to you, sitting on the floor with a bottle and a spit-up rag, Sophia snarfing down her afternoon snack like it’s her job.

You find his eyes, double-taking a little. What?

Nothing. Aaron’s mouth presses into an amused little line.

With a fond roll of your eyes, you turn back into the conversation with Sean and Derek.

And that’s another thing.

Aaron never expected to really have his brother in his life as an adult. To his surprise, it's a rather pleasant change of circumstance. Once he moved out of New York and back to Virginia, Sean really got his act together. The arrival of his second nephew didn’t hurt. At your behest, Aaron called him in Isaac’s first weeks, inviting him over to meet the new addition. He feels silly now, for starting a spat with you about it in the moment. It’s not easy, but it’s good.

He’s the first one to admit that you did most of the heavy lifting, leveraging your similar age and propensity to draw flocks of the struggling and confused.

Your Honor, I’d like to present Exhibit A in regard to struggling and confused - Aaron Benjamin Hotchner - before the court.

He laughs down his nose at his own train of thought. Caroline fusses, but once she’s sitting up in his lap, one of his hands across the entirety of her chest and little belly, she’s happy.

Will she continue to insist on seeing everything? Will she always be so quiet?

There’s something about Caroline’s eyes, even as they continue to settle into their permanent color, that is inherently wise. He knows, logically, that Caroline and Sophia are near-identical, but neither of you have ever had any trouble telling them apart.

If someone asked, he wouldn’t be able to articulate the differences. He just knows.

Aaron almost startles when you appear at his side, Sophia freshly burped and smooshed against your shoulder.

“You look pensive.” It’s a gentle accusation.

Aaron snorts. “It’s my birthday. I’m allowed to be pensive.” He holds Caroline up for a minute and you accept the invitation, planting yourself in his lap. Sophia’s still in your arms, so it’s a bit crowded, but nevertheless, you swing your legs over the arm of the chair and melt against Aaron’s chest.

The girls, of course, are delighted to see each other and make a happy, babbling pair sitting on your abdomen and thighs, watching all the action in the living room.

Aaron presses a kiss to your head and just for another second wonders how he got so lucky.

“Hey. Quit.”

He looks down, meeting your eyes. “What?”

You look at him, soft and affectionate. “You’ll never stop, will you?”

“Probably not.” He adjusts again so he can cradle you in his arm while he keeps the girls stable with his free hand. “But that’s why I’ve got you.”

“Unstoppable force meets immovable object?”

Aaron squints, making play at thinking. “Wasn’t that on our wedding announcements?”

You huff a laugh and pat his chest twice. “Maybe it should have been.”

Realistically, he knows he should be out socializing with everyone there to celebrate him and the fifty years he’s lived (only a couple of them in dog years), but he can’t bring himself to care. His cheek rests against your head, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm. Caroline has the other one of his hands, playing with his fingers (and putting those in her mouth, too) while Sophia sits back against him, threatening sleep.

But really, nobody minds. They’re all having too much fun off the clock, with children of their own. Derek and Savannah lounge in the rec room, watching Tara, Sean, Will, Jack, and Henry play Mario Kart. Not far off is Kristy, wiping illicit frosting off her oldest son’s cheek before he rejoins the boys on the makeshift tournament arena.

Matt, Dave, and Emily are gathered around the kitchen island, their wine glasses never far from their hands. JJ flits between the groups, her puttering instincts inescapable even outside of her domain.

Luke and Penelope pretend they aren’t following each other from room to room, activity to activity. They are horrible actors, and Aaron wonders if the kid will ever pluck up the guts to do something about it.

You didn’t.

That doesn’t count.

Yes, it does.

JJ finally comes to rest beside Emily, propping herself up by her elbows as she sits backward on one of the barstools. “I’d never thought I’d see Hotch so happy.”

Emily looks over her shoulder. What does she see?

She sees a man she’s known her entire career at the bureau, a man who hand-picked her to replace him when it was time for him to leave his post as unit chief, a man who lost almost everything and somehow found it again.

She watches as Aaron says something to you, a wicked kind of humorous glint in his eye. She watches as you let out a loud laugh, accidentally startling your daughters in your lap. She watches as the girls process and pick up on their mother’s joy and start to shriek and clap.

She watches Aaron live.

“I dunno,” Emily says, finally. “I always thought those two might make it if they faced themselves.”

JJ humphs in the irony of it. “That’s a lot to ask.”

“And yet -”

“- Somehow, they’ve managed.” JJ looks to her own family just in time to see Will taking advantage of the high ceiling, throwing Michael into the air and catching him. “It’s kind of funny, how things work out.”

“I can’t believe he’s fifty.” Emily’s non-sequitur drops into JJ’s thoughts, which were rapidly devolving into the abstract. “It doesn’t seem right.”

Dave taps Emily on the shoulder, reminding her he’s been there the whole time. “You’re in your late forties, I might remind you.”

A kind of dissatisfied noise leaves her throat. “Thanks.” She turns, looking at him with a glare that could cut glass, but all in play. “Thanks for that.”

“Just doing my civic duty.”

Emily rolls her eyes and stands, wandering farther into the kitchen to pilfer a bag of animal crackers from the snack drawer.

“Alright!” Penelope calls from the kitchen archway. “It’s time for cake!”

That gets the attention of all the children in the vicinity who have experienced the unadulterated joy of Aunt Penelope’s buttercream frosting.

Aaron tolerates the attention as you and the girls get shuffled (or in your case, shuffle yourself) off his lap. Emily takes Caroline while Savannah has Sophia. A quick glance finds Isaac on Dave's hip. With a little bit of a start, he realizes just how big his family is. They’re all here.

For each other.

For him.

Soon enough, Penelope brings the cake - candles all lit (and no, there are not fifty of them - that was a hard no from the birthday boy) and places it in front of Aaron at the head of the dining room table.

You kiss him on the cheek, distracting him while you put a ridiculous party hat on his head. You can almost feel his eye roll and you hear a few phone cameras click. Of course, shortly after, everyone starts singing at him - horrifically out of pace and key, but it’s perfect.

He’s confronted with the back of a few more phones as parents and friends snap pictures out of habit. He reaches out to snag you around the waist and you end up half-sitting on the arm of his chair.

You loop your arms around his neck, leaning into his side. “Make a wish.”

After one slow blink and a deep breath, he blows out the candles to whoops and hollers and baby shrieks.

Your eyes snap up out of instinct, finding Isaac covering his ears and looking more and more alarmed by the minute. You toss another kiss onto Aaron’s forehead and quickly take Isaac from Dave, traveling down the hall with practiced haste.

If he’s honest, Aaron forgot. He should have grabbed Isaac’s headphones from your office, but he didn’t. He should have warned his son about the loud noises and all the people before they overwhelmed him, but he didn’t. He should have remembered that his son needed more thought and attention than the others, but he didn’t.

He hides his self-directed frustration well, but it doesn’t take long for him to make a quick and subtle escape. He knows the girls are just fine. Emily has Caro well in-hand and Savannah is always looking for an excuse to practice with the girls. She’s due in February, looking radiant and lovely.

In a near-whisper, he calls for you and Isaac as he tracks down the hall on light feet. He hears you murmur, then Isaac’s voice: “Here, Dad,” guides him into your office, where you’re stationed on the floor under your desk.

Isaac’s playing with the soft carpet chosen especially for him, his little fingers getting lost in the plush fabric. Aaron kneels down and rests his forearms on the ground, searching for Isaac’s eyes.

“Hey, little man.”

He hums.

That’s a good thing.

Aaron puts his hand on the carpet, about three inches away from Isaac’s. He can see it, but it’s not touching him, communicating his presence without sensation.

You meet Aaron’s eyes over Isaac’s head. Not your fault.

He shoots you a withering look.

I’m serious, Aaron. You raise your eyebrows and shake your head. Not your fault. We’re okay. Your eyes flicker to Isaac before returning to Aaron. He’s okay.

Aaron watches as you arc your body around him, getting close but not too close, running your fingers through the carpet on either side of him. Aaron wiggles his own fingers, sinking deeper into the blue shag. To his surprise, it calms him a little.

Little Man might be onto something here.

Eventually, Isaac leans back into you, and you slowly bring your hands to his hair, massaging his scalp with the tips of your fingers. You look at Aaron and nod once.

He takes his cue. As always, he’s in awe of your command over Isaac’s needs. With a breath, and very quietly, he asks. “Are you feeling better, little man?”

His eyes still on the carpet, he nods. “Just loud.”

“Yeah. It was pretty loud.” He looks up to the bookshelf, spotting his headphones on their charger. “Do you want to go back to the living room, maybe with your ears on? Or do you want to stay in here?”

The boy stills, thinking. In the two years he’s known his son, the turning of gears in Isaac’s little head enamors and amazes him. He can almost see their spokes behind his eyes. After a minute or so -

“Living room, but only for a little while.”

You kiss him lightly on the top of his head, where the band of the headphones rests. “Do you want your ears?”

He nods and Aaron rises, bringing the headphones back down. Isaac puts them on and wiggles a little where he sits. Aaron likes to imagine it’s his way of settling back into his body.

Much to the surprise of everyone present, Isaac reaches out to Aaron. With soft eyes, he takes his son in his arms, letting him wrap like a koala around his neck and chest.

The three of you return, finding everyone still milling about, eating cake, and sharing space together. Jack, catching sight of you, jogs over. “Is Isaac okay?”

You nod, brushing the hair off Jack’s forehead. “Yeah, bud. It just got a little overwhelming for a minute.”

It’s been eleven years of you and Jack, but it never gets old for Aaron. The way you are with each other - somehow balancing a parent-child relationship with a steadfast best-friendship - constantly surprises and warms him.

Jack nods, circling around so he can get into Isaac’s eye line. He waves a little, and Isaac waves back, lifting his hand briefly from Aaron’s collar. Jack offers a fist, and Isaac reaches out to tap it with three of his fingers.

Aaron closes his eyes, taking it in.

+++

“So,” you say, tucking into bed beside him. “Fifty.”

“So,” He doesn’t pull his eyes from his book. “Thirty-six.” He throws you a side-eye, immediately noticing the playful glint in your eye. “Don’t start.”

You raise your eyebrows, the picture of innocence. “Start what? I’m just appreciating my loving and handsome and thoughtful and distinguished husband on his birthday.” You scoot and shift, straddling him. “Are you gonna let me?”

That gets his attention. Keeping his eyes on you, he markes his place and sets the book on his bedside table. “I might.”

You lean down, pressing your lips to his, speaking quietly against his mouth, like a secret. “Happy Birthday, my love.”

If anyone asked, Aaron loved his present.

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @cevanswhre @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @spencerelds @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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celaena-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Strength in Unity Pt. 1

celaena-writes (Ky_Lauren)

Summary:

A summons from the reclusive nation of Ishgard brings Celaena Fireheart to Coerthas once again. Who is this Ser Aymeric and why is he so adamant on meeting her?

I'll be using my character, a female elezen summoner, for the duration of this series

Spoilers for A Realm Reborn and Heavensward

Notes:

This came about because of a tumblr post I read about poor Lucia having to listen to Aymeric fanboy about the WoL on their way to Camp Dragonhead for their initial meeting. I had intended for this to be a one shot, but I got a bit carried away. At this point, I think I may just novelize the whole of Heavensward with a WoL/Aymeric twist. We shall see.

As always, kudos and reviews are most appreciated and thanks for reading!

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32959384/chapters/81801127

Chapter 1: An interest bordering on fascination

Ser Aymeric sat in his office, staring at the ever growing piles of reports on his desk. Sighing, he took a sip of his tea when he heard a knock at his door. “Enter.” He said.

Lucia, his second in command, walked up to him, a grim look on her face. “Lord Commander, the astrologians have sent word again; the dragon star yet burns brighter and so grows their fear of Midgardsormr awakening. We must appeal to the Holy See at once and begin preparations for battle.”

He looked at her. “While I don’t disagree with you, I’m afraid the Holy See will. Without any tangible proof, they will not sanction it. Yet, we are unable to obtain said proof as we do not have any additional knights to send into Mor Dhona.to monitor The Keeper of the Lake.”

“So our hands are tied then.” Lucia admitted.

“Perhaps not.” Aymeric said, picking up a report that had landed on his desk that morning. Scanning it, he replied, “It says here there was some recent trouble with supplies being sent to Mor Dhona at the behest of House Fortemps.”

“Yes sir. Through the aid of the knights of House Fortemps and Durendaire as well as the Warrior of Light, it was determined the heretics were the ones attacking the caravans and stealing the supplies. For what reason, we know naught. They tracked the heretics to Snowcloak, where they seemingly disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” He inquired.

“We believe there must be a hidden labyrinth of tunnels inside of the ice wall the heretics are using to hide as well as ferry their supplies. According to Lord Haurchefant, the Warrior of Light was ready to give chase, but he advised against it and passed the matter along to us. I am told she has since returned to Revenant’s Toll.” Lucia finished.

“So, the Warrior of Light is once again involving herself in Ishgardian affairs.” Aymeric mused, resting his fingers on his chin. “And what of these supplies? Has Lord Haurchefant mentioned his contingency plan?”

“As he is a staunch defender of the frontier effort, he has already sent a replacement shipment, much to the chagrin of the other high houses.” She added.

“Ah yes, I have heard such grumblings about providing foreign aid. Be that as it may, I agree with Lord Haurchefant that a fortification in Mor Dhona will do much to dissuade the Empire from trespassing on Coerthan soil.” He smiled. “I believe I have found the solution to our problems.”

Lucia cocked her head to the side. “Sir?”

“Word has reached me that a fledgling Grand Company makes its home in Revenant’s Toll; a company not bound to any city-state but under the direct leadership of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn--The Crystal Braves.”

Realization bloomed on Lucia’s face. “And in exchange for allowing the shipments of supplies to continue, you would have them investigate the Keeper of the Lake for us.”

“Precisely.” Aymeric stated. “Their commander is a man named Alphinaud Leveilleur. Though he is quite young, I am told he is capable. Send word to The Rising Stones that I wish to meet with him as well as the Warrior of Light. No exceptions. As this also involves House Fortemps, inform Lord Haurchefant we will be receiving them at Camp Dragonhead.”

“At once milord.” Lucia saluted and departed his office.

He smiled, pulling a file from his desk drawer and flipping through it. “I very much look forward to our meeting, Miss Fireheart.” The commander said quietly to himself, placing the file back inside his desk.

----------

Celaena Firehart strode into the Rising Stones, back from her rescue mission at Castrum Centri. Upon debriefing both Ilberd and Alphinaud, the young elezen turned to her and said, “I realize you have scarce caught your breath--but there is no rest for the weary. I require that you accompany me to Coerthas. I have been granted an audience with an Ishgardian dignitary, you see, and the man expressly requested your presence.” She raised her eyebrow. “Oh, do not look so surprised. You should be familiar with the trappings of fame by now. We shall depart as soon as you are ready.”

“And who, pray tell, is this man who wishes to meet with me so badly?” She asked.

“We have been blessed with a rare opportunity, Celaena--an audience with an ambassador of the Holy See of Ishgard. We are to treat with Ser Aymeric, lord commander of the Temple Knights, in Camp Dragonhead. It is considered a great honor to serve the Holy See as a Temple Knight. Needless to say, their leader wields tremendous political influence. It would be wise to court his favor. For that reason, I consider your attendance essential. If Ser Aymeric wishes to meet the woman behind the legend. I would not deny him the pleasure of your company.” He smiled, smugly, his finger in the air. “The antecedent should see the wisdom of this plan when you request her permission to accompany me to Coerthas.”

Celaena must have made a face, because he continued.

“...Mayhap you feel this to be a waste of your talents, which could doubtless be put to further use? If so, I should remind you that more good can be accomplished with the stroke of a pen than the thrust of a sword.”

The summoner regarded him closely. “Very well, I shall meet with this Ser Aymeric and see what he has to say. Let us hope he is more like Lord Haurchefant than some of the other gentlemen of Ishgard we have had the fortune of entertaining. Let’s speak with Minfilia.”

As Alphinaud expected, the Antecedent thought it a wonderful idea, but brought up a very valid question. “Yet welcome as these overtures are, I cannot help but wonder what prompted them. The Ishgardians have spurned all contact with the city-states for decades. Why reach out now?”

Why, indeed.. . Celaena pondered as Alphinaud recounted the reclusive history of the nation and it’s affiliation, or lack thereof, with the original Eorzean Alliance.

“I have tried to convince Ishgard to rejoin the Alliance at every opportunity. I have explained over and over again that unless Eorzea stands united, we cannot hope to preserve our freedom. One by one, our nations will fall, as once fell Ala Mhigo… And what have mine efforts yielded? Why, naught.” He said, exasperatedly.

While Minfilia was sympathetic to his plight, Celaena had her doubts. While she wholeheartedly agreed Eorzea needed to stand united in order to combat the Imperial threat, it was going to take more than the pleas of a young boy to change the minds of those that chose to remain isolated for decades. He knew that, of course, but it wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

“Of course, I am not so naive to think they come to us out of the goodness of their hearts. We have something they desire, though I have yet to find out what.” He sighed. “Such is the nature of diplomacy. They will bring their agendas to the negotiating table, and so will I--along with a handful of incontrovertible truths.” He turned to his fellow elezen. “Let us depart for Camp Dragonhead, Celaena. Our old friend Lord Haurchefant is expecting us. Since our quest to recover the Enterprise, I understand you have further ingratiated yourself with the man. Excellent work. His fondness may prove useful to our cause.”

Minfilia looked at her friend, eyebrows raised. “His fondness? Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Celaena shook her head. “He is a friend, nothing more.” She said pointedly, looking at Alphinaud. “Let us go. We have a meeting to attend.” She tugged on his ponytail, walking to the exit of the Solar.

“Ow!” He exclaimed. “I was merely stating the truth. His face lights up like a tree at the Starlight Celebration when he sees you. It would behoove you to use that to our advantage.”

“I refuse to manipulate a friend for personal gain. Besides, our relationship with Ishgard is tenuous at best, so drop it, Alphinaud. We have more pressing matters to attend to.

“You’re right.” He agreed. “My apologies.”

“You’re forgiven.” She smiled briefly, her expression turning serious. “I know you’re going to ask Ser Aymeric to rejoin the Alliance, and I won’t stop you, but do not be surprised when you’re greeted with an answer you don’t want to hear.”

“They’re a stubborn lot for sure, but I must try.” He answered, determinedly.

She nodded. “Don’t forget your coat. I know how you hate the cold.”

------------

Ser Aymeric and Lucia saddled their chocobos and walked them through the Arc of the Worthy, mounting them to ride across the Steps of Faith. “What a beautiful day.” Aymeric exclaimed. “Halone has truly blessed us with this reprieve from the blizzard that has raged these past few days. The sun has even deigned to show itself!”

Lucia looked at him, her face impassive. “Indeed it is, sir.”

“I do hope our friends from the Scions are able to witness this before it starts snowing again. Do you think they’ve arrived at Camp Dragonhead?”

A small smile played on her lips. “It’s difficult to say, sir. They do have a longer trek than we do.”

“That they do. Although, Camp Dragonhead is prized of an aetheryte. It’s possible they took the short way, provided they attuned to it, of course.” He said, more to himself before looking at his second in command. “Lucia, are you smiling?”

“Forgive me sir, it’s just that you seem...happier than usual.”

He barked out a laugh. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to this day. We’re going to meet the Warrior of Light for Halone’s sake! This is the woman that has slain primals like they were mere snow wolf pups! Not to mention her routing the Empire, defeating a weapon of insurmountable strength, and killing Gaius van Baelsar in the process. I admit I was skeptical when I first heard the tales, but then she wandered into Coerthas seeking an airship to vanquish Garuda; and not only did she find her airship, she ferreted out a false inquisitor, cleared Lord Francel of heresy and returned the Stone Vigil to House Durendaire. An outsider gaining the cooperation of one of the high houses is a feat in and of itself, but three out of four? There’s also her recent discovery of the possible lair of the heretics. All of this for a nation that no doubt treated her unkindly when she first arrived. I shall strive to show her that her experiences in no way represent the whole of Ishgard.”

“If we are to acquire their aid, showing them true Ishgardian hospitality would indeed work in our favor.” Lucia replied.

“Indeed, but not only that, I do not wish to sour this budding friendship she seems to be acquiring with our great nation. Young Alphinaud will no doubt try to rope Ishgard back into the Eorzean Alliance, and though I must regretfully deny him, I can only hope they will be receptive to our plight.”

Lucia chose her words carefully. “Given her past actions and the accolades she’s received from Lord Haurchefant, she does not strike me as one to turn a blind eye to those in need.”

“Lord Haurchefant does indeed have nothing but glowing reviews for her. He has sung her praises on several occasions of how kind she is and how she treats his knights with the utmost respect. Perhaps one day she’ll show the same courtesy to the Temple Knights.” He said, wistfully.

“Given the opportunity sir, I’ve no doubt she would.” The hyur replied, amused.

Aymeric beamed. “Well, I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself. I haven’t even met her and here I am imagining her treating with the Temple Knights.”

“Rumor has it she purportedly wields the arcane instead of the sword.”

He nodded. “Her magicks are unparalleled, from what I’m told.”

“Then let us be glad she fights on our side.”

“Agreed.” The lord commander looked ahead. “Aha! We’re almost there. Let us make haste.”

Lucia hid a laugh behind her hand as Aymeric kicked his chocobo into a gallop. It was good to see him happy, even if he prattled on like a schoolboy with a crush. Though, she supposed he deserved this small reprieve. Despite all the good this meeting could bring, she couldn’t shake the feeling things were going to get much worse… Urging her own chocobo to go faster, she followed the lord commander into the camp.

The pair handed off their mounts to a squire and made their way to the main chamber. Lord Haurchefant stood immediately upon their entrance and greeted them warmly. “Ser Aymeric! Commander Lucia! Welcome back to Camp Dragonhead.”

“Always a pleasure, Lord Haurchefant.” Aymeric replied. “Tell me, have our friends from Revenant’s Toll arrived yet?”

“That eager to meet the Warrior of Light, are we?” Haurchefant teased. “Not that I blame you, of course. I’d feel the same were our roles reversed, but alas, neither her nor Master Alphinaud have arrived yet. In the meantime, why not warm yourself by the fire and have a drink.”

“As appealing as that sounds, I’m afraid sitting will only make the waiting go by even slower. I think I shall take a walk and see how your knights are faring.” He said, taking his leave before Lucia could follow.

“I shall come fetch you the moment they arrive.” Haurchefant called after him and turned to Lucia after Aymeric had left.. “The lord commander is in exceptionally high spirits today. Dare I say the man is practically giddy.”

“He was quite...animated on our ride over.” Lucia said, carefully. “All he did was speak of the Warrior of Light. He’s been following her exploits for quite some time.”

“It’s hard not to.” Haurchefant agreed. “Celaena is a hell of a woman.”

“So I’ve heard. I look forward to meeting her. If you’ll excuse me. I should be getting back to the lord commander.”

“Of course,” the knight said. “I will await here for their arrival.”

------

The cold air hit them like a slap in the face as they materialized into Camp Dragonhead. “Confound this climate!” Alphinaud bemoaned. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the cold.”

Celaena blew out a breath, watching it cloud before her eyes. “I kind of like it. I’ll gladly take it over the oven that is Ul’dah and Thanalan. Besides, you were the one that suggested we use the aetheryte network since we were in a hurry. What did you expect, jumping from one place to another.”

The younger man huffed, ignoring her barb. “Lord Haurchefant awaits. Let us get inside and out of this infernal weather.”

The pair descended the steps from the aetheryte and into the main chamber of the camp. Walking up to Lord Haurchefant’s desk, she was greeted with his usual enthusiasm. “Ah, Celaena! Ever a welcome sight. Our hearths have been stoked to blazing in preparation for your arrival. It would not do such a distinguished personage to catch cold whilst enjoying our hospitality.”

“It’s good to see you again, Lord Haurchefant.” Celaena said, smiling.

“The gesture is most appreciated.” Alphinaud said. “I fear I shall ever struggle in cold climes.”

“...Ah, good Master Alphinaud. An honor, as always.”

“Likewise, Lord Haurchefant. Forgive us yet another imposition--I fear we have relied overmuch on your aid since you so generously assisted us in locating the Enterprise. ”

“Nonsense!” He waved them off. “Any debts incurred have long since been repaid. Besides, who can say what the future may bring? House Fortemps may even seek the aid of your newly formed Crystal Braves. In any case, I am simply delighted that the Holy See is at last willing to grant you an audience. No doubt your discoveries at Snowcloak helped to justify the decision. This recent resurgence in heretical activity is of grave concern to us all. But to the matter at hand: Ser Aymeric arrived in Camp Dragonhead earlier, and I am told he is eager to meet with you at your first convenience.” He glanced pointedly at the summoner. “You are doubtless weary from your journey and desirous to rest awhile by the warmth of our hearth...But if you are willing to forgo such comforts, pray inform the knight stationed outside the intercessory. He will grant you entrance and send word to the other attendees.”

“As inviting as your hearth sounds, I think it best we proceed to the intercessory forthwith.” Alphinaud replied, looking up at the older woman.

“Agreed. I believe we’ve made Ser Aymeric wait long enough.”

“He will be most happy to hear that, especially from you.” Haurchefant grinned. “As this purportedly concerns House Fortemps as well, I shall also be joining you once I have finished some paperwork here.”

“We shall see you anon.” Celaena replied, heading toward the intercessory

------------

Aymeric mulled about the camp, willing the time to go faster, when he overheard a nearby conversation, making his ears perk up. “Did you see her?”

“See who? There is more than a fair share of women at this camp.” The older man replied, annoyed.

“The Warrior of Light!” The young knight said excitedly. “I saw her descending from the aetheryte tower not but a bell ago! Do you think she’s here to fight the heretics?”

“Whatever her business here, it is none of ours. Get back to work.”

“Lord commander.” A voice said, interrupting his eavesdropping. “Master Alphinaud Leveilleur and Mistress Celaena Fireheart await you in the intercessory.”

He cleared his throat. “Thank you ser. I will be there anon.” Turning towards his second in command and failing to hide his glee, he said, “Come Lucia. They’re here.”

------

Celaena paced in the intercessory, her Ifrit-egi trailing after her. Why do I suddenly feel nervous? She mused. It’s not like I’ve never met those in power before , but this was a request to specifically meet me. Why? She ran through a myriad of reasons in her head before the click of the door made her jump and Haurchefant’s smiling visage greeted her. He must have noticed her agitation, for he said, “Have faith my friend. You need only state your case with confidence and clarity.”

“That’s the thing. I’m not sure what exactly my case is.” She replied. “All I know is my presence was specifically requested for this meeting, and that’s it. It’s quite frustrating to be honest.”

Haurchefant chuckled. “Insular as Ishgard is, your deeds have, in fact, reached the ears of the Holy See. Between you and I, Ser Aymeric has been wanting to meet you for some time, he just lacked the occasion to do so.”

“You mean I now have something he wants.” She retorted, smirking. “Any idea what that might be?”

“Oh, I can think of a few.” He replied cryptically. “I say, where is Master Alphinaud?”

Celaena rolled her eyes. “I swear that boy has a bladder the size of a kupo nut.”

Their laughter was interrupted by the door opening once more. Alphinaud stepped into the room followed by quite possibly the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was tall, even by elezen standards, soft black waves fell across his forehead, framing his impossibly blue eyes. Long ears and a slender, but chiseled face gave way to blue, black, and gold armor that glinted in the firelight while a peculiar looking sword of blue steel rested at his hip . Well, this meeting will be pleasant to look at, at least. She thought, their eyes meeting

Aymeric tried his best to not gape at her. She had been laughing at something with Lord Haurchefant when they had walked in, and the way it made her bright green eyes light up had him aching to know what the joke was. But here she was--the elezen woman he had heard so much about before his very eyes. Her short purple hair was spiked up in the back while long, pointy bangs fell over the right side of her face. The black and blue cloth armor clung to her lithe frame like a second skin and she bore no weapons save for a thick tome at her side and a strange, flaming creature floating behind her. He swallowed thickly. She was no conventional beauty for sure, but he found her intimidatingly gorgeous. The clink of Lucia’s armor brought him back to reality. “Commander Leveilleur.”He said, not taking his eyes off of her. “It is both an honor and a pleasure to meet you. I am Aymeric, lord commander of the Temple Knights.”

“Alphinaud Leveilleur, at your service.” The younger man replied. “Your reputation precedes you, Ser Aymeric. I think we will find that we have much in common.”

He nodded, turning to Celaena. “Speaking of reputations, yours towers over us all. Does it not?”

“It does indeed, Lord Commander.” The hyuran woman behind him stated, Haurchefant nodding in agreement.

“I am not too proud to admit I have followed your activities with an interest bordering on fascination. Full glad was I to learn that you would be joining us.” He smiled.

By the Twelve, even his voice is nice . “Full glad am I to be here, Ser Aymeric. I thank you for inviting me, though I am a bit perplexed as to the reason for this meeting.”

Inquisitive too . He made a mental note. “Well then, shall we begin?”

He watched as she took her seat in the nearest chair, the creature following after her like a flaming pet. I’ll have to inquire about that later. He thought. Unfortunately for him, she caught him staring at her egi and with a flick of her hand, the thing folded in on itself and disappeared.

“Sorry.” She said, sheepishly. “Force of habit.”

Also cute.

Taking his seat in the ornate chair across from her, he was barely able to utter a word before Alphinaud launched into his diatribe about the benefits of Ishgard rejoining the Eorzean Alliance. Though the request was expected, the boy’s fervor was not. “Once again, I must respectfully disagree.” He stated.

“On what grounds?” Alphinaud demanded.

Aymeric inhaled slowly and calmly explained how the Holy See saw the primal threat as a Gridanian affair and that Ishgard does not interfere in the internal affairs of other nations. “Even were that not the case, our forces are wholly committed to the Dravanian conflict. We have not the knights to spare.” He could see the boy’s agitation grow as he brought up the Empire’s history and how it was agreed it was only a matter of time before they resumed their campaign in Eorzea.

“Then surely it would be in our best interests to present a united front?” The boy asked, exasperated.

“Mayhap one day, but not yet .” Aymeric replied pointedly, bringing up Gaius van Baelsar’s death and how it was highly unlikely the Imperials were going to emerge from behind the walls of their castra any time soon.

“Alphinaud,” Celaena interjected, warning in her voice. “Let us not shoot the messenger. We are here at his behest and you have not allowed him to get a word in edgewise.”

Halone bless her. Aymeric was a patient man, but this futile argument and its circular logic was starting to wear on his nerves.

“Forgive me, but if Ishgard’s position has not changed, why did you agree to this meeting?”

“It was not only as a representative of Ishgard that I came here.”

Alphinaud looked dumbfounded. “Pardon?”

“It is not within my power to change Ishgardian policy, regardless of my personal feelings. There is, however, one area in which I may exert a measure of influence. Concerns have been raised over the supplies House Fortemps has offered to Revenant’s Toll. These have led to calls for restrictions on the provision of aid to foreign powers. I can continue to ensure the shipments continue unabated.” He smiled smugly.

“Ser Aymeric, we would be in your debt!” Haurchefant exclaimed happily.

“No, you would not, for I require something in exchange.” He turned to Celaena, a knowing smile on her face.

“And this is the real reason why we are here, I am assuming?” She questioned.

And sharp as a tack. “Of late, there has been a flurry of Dravanian activity, the purpose of which was not immediately clear. However, our astrologians have since observed alarming changes in the heavens. The dragon star waxes unnaturally bright, and there are whispers that it portends the resurrection of Midgardsormr.”

“The fallen guardian of Silvertear Falls? That’s absurd!” Alphinaud scoffed, earning him a pointed look from the summoner.

“Full many times have I gazed upon the dragon’s corpse, still wound around the Agrius , and wondered how different our world might be if it lived to plague the skies. I do not know, and I do not wish to know. Nor does any son of Ishgard. Yet the mere presence of Dravanian forces is not sufficient grounds to send knights to Mor Dhona, whatever our astrologians say. As I told you before, we have not the forces to spare.

Realization appeared on the young boy’s face. “...But we do. So you will intervene on our behalf if we agree to watch over the Keeper of the Lake.”

“Do you accept these terms?” The lord commander asked.

Thinking for a moment, he replied, “I do. I will see that you are kept abreast of any developments. I regret that we could not come to a similar agreement on other matters, but I understand that you are not at liberty to make such decisions. Nevertheless, I hope that what we have accomplished here today will serve to demonstrate to your countrymen that we can work together towards a common goal. Mayhap we shall look back on this moment as the first step towards a united Eorzea.”

“Mayhap we shall, commander.”

Opening her mouth to agree, the door flew open and a panting knight rushed into the room. “What is the meaning of this?!” Haurchefant demanded.

“The caravan my lord! It’s been attacked!” He breathed. “It was Iceheart, my lord!”

Everyone in the room looked at each other and back at the knight. “What?! By the Fury! All our precautions were for naught?!” He paused. “I must apprise my knights of the situation. If you’ll excuse me.” Haurchefant said, exiting the room.

“I shall assist him.” Lucia said, following after.

“And I shall inform Revenant’s Toll of the situation.” Alphinaud said, leaving the two of them alone.

“And what of you, Celaena?” Aymeric asked, enjoying the way her name fell from his lips. “What will you do?”

“Well I certainly can’t stand by and do nothing. Ishgard may not interfere with the affairs of other nations, but I do.” She smirked.

There’s that boldness I’ve heard so much about. “So, does this mean you’ll be staying in Coerthas for a while?”

“Would you like that, Lord Commander?” She asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Aymeric started, his mouth falling open slightly before he regained his composure. “Yes, of course. I mean, any aid offered by the Warrior of Light is most certainly welcome.”

Her smile grew. “Well then, seeing as how my previous efforts at tracking down the heretics were rebuked in favor of involving the Temple Knights, I imagine we’ll be working together quite closely from now on.”

“Yes, I imagine we shall.” He said, his heart soaring as he studied her face. “I must say, you are much more talkative than I expected. Rumors claim you’re the strong and silent type..”

She barked out a laugh. “One, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear, and two, you could say that about anyone placed in the same room as Alphinaud. As you have well observed, once he gets going, it’s hard to foster any sort of conversation. Do forgive him. He can come across as brash and sometimes downright rude, but he truly means every word he says. It’s largely why he founded the Crystal Braves.”

“He certainly does not lack passion, I’ll give him that. Do you agree with him? That all of Eorzea must stand united?”

“I do, but I also agree with you. Now is not Ishgard’s time. The more you insist upon someone to do something, the less likely they are willing to do it. It is folly to think a country that has isolated itself for decades will completely upend its ways and reverse policy based on a few lines of dialogue, however rational it may be. Our friendship with Lord Haurchefant and House Fortemps as well as our meeting today has no doubt opened the door, if but a crack. It will take work on both sides to open it further. I can only speak for myself, but I am willing to put in that effort.”

Aymeric couldn’t help but smile. “As am I. It will take time, but time spent in good company is never wasted.”

“Then we are in agreement!” She beamed. “Let us go see what has happened with those heretics, shall we?”

“You go ahead. I must inform headquarters the outcome of our meeting. I shall join you anon”

“Very well. I shall see you soon Ser Aymeric. I do hope our chat was fascinating enough for you.” She smiled, bowing slightly before walking out of the intercessory.

Aymeric blew out a sigh and sat back down. “You truly are something else.” He said softly.

-------

“Well, Lord Haurchefant, it seems we will be imposing on you for a while longer.” Celaena said after learning the status of the supplies.

“Nonsense! How many times must I repeat myself? You,” he tapped her on the nose, “are always welcome here. I shall have rooms prepared and ready for you once you have returned from investigating the caravan.”

“Thank you, as always.” She smiled warmly. “Hopefully this won’t take long.”

“With your talents, it shant take but a bell. Go. We’ll be waiting.”

She nodded in reply and walked out to summon her chocobo. Not long after, Ser Aymeric walked into the room. “Forgive my tardiness. What news of the caravan?” Lord Haurchefant filled him in. “I see. Well, after finally meeting her, I’ve no doubt she’ll be able to ferret out something. The stories scarcely do her justice. I see why you admire her so. That woman is a force of nature.”

Haurchefant laughed. “I hate to say I told you so, my friend, but I told you so. At least one upside to this fiasco is that she has decided to grace us with her presence a while longer e’re we attempt to solve what has happened. Master Alphinaud tells me you two chatted with each other after the meeting. Dare I ask what you two spoke of?” Aymeric obliged. “She truly said that about helping Ishgard?”

“Indeed she did.”

“Halone certainly smiles upon her.” Haurchefant said. “I have a feeling she’s going to blow that door wide open someday. Change is coming, I can feel it. However, until its arrival, we can do naught but wait. Drink?”

“I’d love one.” Aymeric replied.

--------

Pushing the door open, Celeaena shook the snow from her hair as she moved to her friends to report her findings. Looking around, she asked, “Where’s Ser Aymeric?”

“Regretfully, he had to return to the city. You can be sure I’ll relay any information back to him.” Lucia said.

“What news have you for us, my friend? Alphinaud inquired.

“Well, the knights weren’t able to offer much but speculation. They stole the supplies and tipped the wagon, which likely means they had their own, less conspicuous way of transporting the goods. He did mention a sole survivor, a squire, recovering at the Observatorium, so I headed there after. I had to wait a bit for him to wake up, but I believe what little he was able to glean could be of help. The heretics were dressed as pilgrims, seemingly lost souls trekking north. The leader of the caravan reached out to them, asking if they needed help. A young woman with silver hair seemed to accept his offer, until she stabbed him. Then the bloodbath began. The squire suffered a blow to the head and was knocked unconscious, but when he came to, he had the foresight to feign death and listen. He said they spoke of deliverance, resurrection, and someone called Shiva. ” Celaena recounted.

Haurchefant blanched. “It seems the Lady Iceheart does not scruple to sully her hands with blood.”

“Who is this ‘Shiva’ the heretics spoke of?” Alphinaud asked

“...Have you not read a single line of the Enchiridion Master Alphinaud?” Lucia asked. “Shiva was a traitor to kith and kin--an apostate who lay down with dragons .”

“Now, now, we cannot expect all foreigners to know Ishgardian scripture so well--particularly when it comes to the patron saint of heretics.” Haurchefant countered.

Celaena and Alphinaud looked at each other wide eyed. “Wait--you say she is their patron saint? Oh no… It all makes sense now… Lord Haurchefant, what was the caravan’s cargo?” The boy asked.

“Ah…. If I recall correctly, the Diamond Forge had requested a rather large quantity of crystals--”

“Then we’re about to have a problem on our hands…” Celaena stated, Haurchefant and Lucia looking at her quizzically. Alphinaud answered.

“Do you not see? Iceheart and her followers intend to summon Shiva, as a beast tribe would a primal! Why else would they go to such lengths to secure crystals?”

“Then we need to figure out how the heretics are getting into Snowcloak and where they intend on completing the summoning. Last I was here, House Durendaire was leading the reconnaissance effort in that regard. Do their knights still patrol the area?” Celaena asked.

“Yes. As I understand it, since the incident at Snowcloak they have redoubled their efforts in patrolling the area.” Alphinaud stated.

“I believe it’s time to pay our friend Lord Drillemont a visit and see if there have been any updates to the situation that may help us determine precisely where the heretics are hiding.” She said.

“Agreed. Though I would like to head there as soon as possible, night will be here soon and I believe it’s best we wait until the morning.”

“...I shall inform the lord commander at once. Lord Haurchefant, you would agree that discretion is of paramount concern?” Lucia asked.

“Of course. I trust we can continue on your continued support, Master Alphinaud?”

“The Scions of the Seventh Dawn are sworn to combat the primal threat. Our support is a given. I will need to send word to my brethren in Revenant’s Toll. Our entire order must turn its efforts to the prevention of this summoning.” He turned to Celaena. “Naturally, that includes you--though I’m sure you would not miss this for the world.”

She chuckled. “These heretics have caused our friends enough trouble and they need to stop. Of course I’m in.”

“Then it’s settled.” Haurchefant said. “I will send a message to Whitebrim Front to expect you on the morrow. You two should rest. You’ve done more than enough for today.”

“Thank you, Lord Haurchefant.” Celaena replied. “We will.”

“I will return to Ishgard immediately and inform Ser Aymeric of all that has transpired.” Lucia stated, saluting and taking her leave.

WIth just the two of them left, Alphinaud blew out a breath. “Well, today certainly could have gone better.”

“The shipments to Revenant’s Toll will continue unabated, so there’s that. Not to mention we gleaned some valuable information regarding the summoning of a primal. It’s good we got here when we did. As capable as these knights are, I don’t think they’d fare too well against one.”

“You’re right. Tis a shame we didn’t make any progress regarding the Eorzean Alliance though.”

“Did I not tell you to expect an answer you didn’t want to hear? Badgering them every time you come here will do no good.” She looked at the boy. “Alphinaud, I say this out of love, but sometimes you really need to shut up and listen to what people have to say. You have this habit of talking at people rather than with them. Ser Aymeric could barely get in a word before you verbally assaulted him about the alliance.” She held her hand up when it was clear he wanted to interrupt. “See what I mean? Let me finish. I know you have a lot to prove with the Crystal Braves and I agree with you about a united Eorzea, I do, but it takes two people to open a dialogue. I know Ishgard will come around, but we needn't force it. Patience is key here.”

Alphinaud huffed. “...I thank you for your honesty. I suppose I could have been more accommodating.”

“You’re a smart guy, but not everyone sees the big picture as quickly as you.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “Besides, maybe this whole primal threat will be the eye opener they need.”

“Your unfettering optimism can be quite annoying at times.” He smiled. “So, what will you do now?”

“I’m going to take Lord Haurchefant’s advice and rest with a nice glass of Ishgardian brandy by the fire. Care to join me?”

“I’d love to.”

------------

Aymeric looked at the clock in his office then out the window at the darkening skies. What on earth could they have discovered that’s taking so long? He thought.

As if on cue, Lucia walked through the door. “I have returned, lord commander.”

“What news from Camp Dragonhead?” He asked. She nodded and recounted the events of the evening. “By the Fury.... A primal? On Coerthan lands?” He shook his head. “The Temple Knights will pledge their full support in the eradication of this menace and I should like to personally inform Lord Drillemont of our assistance. We make for Whitebrim Front in the morning.”

“Of course, Lord Commander.” Lucia replied.

Sitting back in his chair, he said, “Well, the evening certainly took a turn, but what did you think of her? Of the Warrior of Light?”

Lucia chose her words carefully. “She certainly seems more than a capable warrior, both on and off the battlefield. She struck me as both logical and rational and I admire her willingness to jump in and help. Twas her idea to seek the counsel of Lord Drillemont after she recalled House Durendaire was leading the reconnaissance effort at Snowcloak.”

Aymeric beamed. “So she’s tactical as well… Incredible. To say that she exceeded my expectations would be a gross understatement. I believe we have made an invaluable ally and friend today.”

Lucia nodded. “And it seems she will be treating with the Temple Knights much earlier than expected.”

“Ha!” He laughed. “Indeed she shall. If that is all to report, you are dismissed for the evening. I shall see you in the morn.”

“She did ask where you were when she returned from her investigation and seemed disappointed when I informed her you had returned to the city.” She saluted. “Good night, Lord Commander.”

Aymeric watched the door shut and smiled. So, she thought of me. He mused. The day hadn’t gone to plan, that much was certain, but grim though the situation was, he found himself excited at the prospect of working side by side with her. Perhaps I’ll even get to witness her fight! He thought, standing up and walking to the window. The snow was beginning to pick up again; a wall of white whipping about in the wind, and he hoped she wasn’t cold at the drafty camp. Were it up to him, her and Alphinaud both would be tucked safely behind Ishgard’s walls with him at the Congregation of Knights Most Heavenly. “Stay warm. I shall see you tomorrow.” He said softly.

#Final Fantasy XIV #aymeric x wol #aymeric de borel #aymeric #warrior of light #WoL x Aymeric #wolmeric #wol #FFXIV #Elezen #a realm reborn #haurchefant #haurchefant greystone #haurchefant x wol

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misscorn · 3 years ago

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Day 5: Roleswap/Formal

This @takaritsuweek prompt inspired me to do something I've been putting off for years: a rewrite of my fic Stalker-Senpai. So, please enjoy the first chapter :D its pretty much the same except third person now lol, we'll see how much I change in the future!

***

It was such a stupid reason to fall in love with someone.

Onodera Ritsu had been struggling to reach a high up book on a shelf, wobbling slightly on his tiptoes for a few brief moments before Saga Masamune decided to intervene, mostly just because something about watching the underclassman struggle was both sad and annoying. The older teen grabbed the book for Ritsu, handing it over with a blank expression.

Ritsu returned the simple, polite gesture with such a wide and sincere smile that Masamune's heart reached incredible speeds that he didn't know were possible. Why is he looking at me like that? Masamune wondered, shifting from one foot to the other, feeling warm from Ritsu's gaze.

Masamune swallowed hard as Ritsu took the book out of his hands and said an enthusiastic thank you, one that was way too cheerful considering all Masamune had done was reach up and grab something. The older boy couldn't help but to notice Ritsu's cheeks were a little red from what he assumed was embarrassment and Masamune suddenly wished to see that adorable expression every day.

God, what am I thinking? Adorable? He's a guy, Masamune hoped none of his thoughts were showing on his face. Apparently they weren't since Ritsu gave a quick and polite nod before scampering off. Masamune found his eyes following the underclassman and his feet almost followed as well. Almost. But Masamune somehow managed to hold on to a string of self control.

All he did was smile and say thank you, why am I acting like such an idiot? I don't even know his name, Masamune silently scolded himself. It was too late, though. Masamune was already on his way to become a hopeless, lovelorn fool.

It didn't take long for Masamune to notice that Ritsu was in the library as often as he was after their minuscule interaction. It was like Ritsu had suddenly appeared and was now here everyday. Not that Masamune was complaining; he found the underclassman's constant presence very comforting.

He reads a new book almost every day. Either he has a short attention span or a lot of time on his hands, Masamune noted. It was quite difficult to keep up with Ritsu's appetite for literature, though Masamune did his best. I want to read all the books that he reads, Masamune thought as he grabbed a novel Ritsu had recently finished. The older teen was hoping that he could use this as a way to get to know Ritsu better. Masamune was particularly ecstatic to learn from his book-stalking that his Kouhai's name was Onodera Ritsu.

The two of them always sat at different tables, but Masamune made sure to keep Ritsu in his sights. Masamune loved seeing the brunette's reactions to what he was reading. At times Masamune would hear a small chuckle leave Ritsu or see Ritsu purse his lips in thought or even see Ritsu rub at his eyes insistently to hide the fact that he was tearing up. I want to know what he's reading, Masamune would think desperately before he was able to get his hands on the book, I want to know what makes him smile and laugh, I want to be the one who makes him smile and laugh. Masamune felt positively pathetic with this train of thought, but he couldn't help himself.

Yes, it was official: Saga Masamune was in love at fifteen years old. He didn't understand how it happened so fast nor did he fully understand why, but he had enough self awareness to realize he was totally whipped for an underclassman who he hadn't even said a single word to.

That was precisely Masamune's problem; talking with people wasn't exactly his forte and he feared that he would somehow scare Ritsu off if he approached him. Not to mention, this feeling of want, this inexplicable desire to hold someone through the night and into the day, this need of seeing someone's face just to feel at ease, all of it was new to Masamune. It was scary to be so enraptured in someone. It was terrifying to know that someone else had so much power over him, power that Ritsu didn't even know he had. If Masamune confessed his feelings, he'd be freely handing that power over and Masamune didn't know if he was even capable of being vulnerable and trusting like that.

It didn't help that watching Ritsu from afar suddenly wasn't entertaining enough for the cruel deity laughing at Masamune's hopelessness. What other possible explanation was there for their paths crossing once again? He had peacefully watched Ritsu and stalked his library cards for three years, but now those days were seemingly over.

Masamune was reaching toward a book when a smaller, more delicate hand came into contact with his. Masamune looked over, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of Ritsu. Ritsu was quick to rip his hand away and met Masamune's eyes with an anxious gaze. Ritsu opened his mouth, looking like he was about to apologize for nothing.

"You can take the book, Onodera." Masamune said quickly before he could speak, not enjoying the sight of Ritsu appearing so guilty and worried. He wanted to alleviate the anxieties clear on Ritsu's face, but he seemed to only make it worse.

"How do you know my name?" Came the quiet, nervous response. The book was quickly forgotten by them both. Masamune felt like he was short-circuiting as he wracked his brain for any possible excuse or lie, but his mouth started moving without his permission.

"I love you."

What?

What the hell did I just say?!

There was a pause between the two of them, the air around Masamune feeling as if it were crushing his bones.

"...eh? Eh?!" Ritsu's face flushed a beautiful shade of red, but Masamune didn't have the time to admire it because he was desperately trying to think of a way to prevent Ritsu from sprinting away.

"What I meant to say was-well-would you want to go out with me sometime?" Masamune asked, watching Ritsu's surprised, flustered expression closely. The brunette shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, as he opened and closed his mouth, grasping at straws for a response.

"Y-Y-You know I-I'm a guy r-right?" Ritsu finally settled on after a few seconds of awkward silence.

Masamune almost wanted to laugh. Out of all the things Ritsu could've said, that was what he decided on? Masamune's lips quirked up ever so slightly in amusement as he started to find it a little easier to breathe.

"Yeah, I'm aware." Masamune replied dryly. "Does it bother you that I'm a guy?" That had been one of the reasons Masamune had been so hesitant to approach. It was possible that Ritsu wasn't even into guys and now maybe the two of them didn't even have a chance of being friends.

"I-no! Not really? I don't-" Ritsu inched closer and closer to retreating, which simply wouldn't do.

"It's alright, Just take a breath, okay? You don't have to say yes." Masamune quickly assured him, though I really, really want him to say yes, Masamune hoped it didn't show.

"I-I don't even k-know your name..." Ritsu started, seeming to try to find some sort of excuse, perhaps wanting to spare Masamune's feelings instead of outright rejecting him. However, Masamune's heart was stubborn and dead set on Ritsu. He wouldn't be dissuaded easily and not knowing his name was an easy fix.

"It's Saga. Saga Masamune."

Ritsu nodded slowly, visibly swallowing as he wrung his hands, seeming to be carefully considering his next few words.

"O-O-Okay...I-I'll go out with you...Saga Senpai..."

When an upperclassman grabbed a book for Ritsu and handed it over he was grateful for a few seconds, but forgot about the interaction quickly. It had been nothing particularly special after all. If there was anything he did remember from the brief conversation-if one could even call it that-it was that he felt terribly embarrassed for being too short to reach a book. And then a certain name started to pop up everywhere...

Ritsu scanned the shelves for a new read, not looking for anything in particular, just something unfamiliar and fresh. He started to reach for one when a larger hand met his and he instinctively recoiled away from the touch as if it had burned him. He looked over to see an older student that was often slinking around the library, somehow always seeming to have a certain aura of sadness around him.

"You can take the book, Onodera." He told Ritsu quickly, his expression blank and unreadable.

"How do you know my name?" Ritsu asked hesitantly, though he already knew the answer. This is my stalker. Saga Masamune, Ritsu felt nervous now that he was face to face with him. Ritsu had been ignoring the behavior for the longest time, three years in fact, but now his stalker was right in front of him.

Ritsu often liked to reread books that he particularly connected with and it didn't take long for him to realize a certain name kept appearing and reappearing underneath his own.

Saga Masamune.

Ritsu didn't know anything about this 'Saga' person. He was far too shy to ever venture out to try to talk to many people, especially an upperclassman. He was still young and fresh enough to high school to think that upperclassmen were untouchable Gods. Though, after noticing the name he also noticed that a certain upperclassman was constantly in the library: the one that had helped Ritsu grab a book. Ritsu decided he was as good as a suspect as anyone to be his stalker. It wasn't like many other students spent hours upon hours in the school's library. To confirm his suspicion, Ritsu once quietly walked up to his table when he had fallen asleep sitting up and took the opportunity to look in the back of his book. There was his name: Saga Masamune. The upperclassman shifted and Ritsu took that as his que to quickly put the book back down and retreat.

Ritsu tried to ignore it, not understanding Masamune's motives or actions and wondering if perhaps he was looking a little too much into it. That was, until the two had bumped into each other again.

"I love you." Masamune said.

Ritsu's heart punched the inside of his rib cage before beating erratically in all directions. A confession had been about the last thing he was expecting.

"...eh? Eh?!" Is all Ritsu could choke out in response with his legs feeling weak yet also prepared to sprint a mile if necessary.

"What I meant to say was-well-would you want to go out with me sometime?" Masamune asked, but Ritsu's confusion didn't cease.

"Y-Y-You know I-I'm a guy r-right?" That question sounded much dumber out loud than it did in my head, Ritsu thought as he refrained from facepalming. Masamune smirked a bit at his question and Ritsu tried not to frown, feeling like he was being made fun of and this confession had perhaps been a joke of some sort to mess with him.

"Yeah, I'm aware. Does it bother you that I'm a guy?"

Ritsu struggled to swallow as he started to shake his head. "I-no! Not really? I don't-" He wanted to hide behind the bookshelves at this point and forget this entire conversation.

"It's alright, Just take a breath, okay? You don't have to say yes."

"I-I don't even k-know your name..." Ritsu lied, wanting to somehow escape this situation.

"It's Saga. Saga Masamune." He replied smoothly. The upperclassman obviously didn't see their lack of knowledge of one another as an issue and suddenly Ritsu was out of excuses.

I should say I don't like guys, or that not interested, or that I have a girlfriend, Ritsu thought, but instead he just gulped nervously and nodded slowly.

"O-O-Okay...I-I'll go out with you...Saga Senpai..."

Why did I say that, why did I agree to this, what am I going to do now, oh God, I bet this really is just a joke and he's going to start laughing at me now, if my parents find out about this I'm completely done for-, Ritsu's panicked thoughts continued to race, but stopped once a gentle hand reached up to ruffle his hair.

And that was how the wonderful, complicated mess of their relationship started.

#onodera ritsu #saga masamune #sekaiichi hatsukoi #takaritsuweek #fanfiction

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phantompearlsalt · 4 years ago

Text

Sour Cherry, Chapter 17

Preview AND the real deal in one day? I’m on a roll 😎 But in all seriousness: super happy I could share this (more or less) on time with everyone! I’ve started working on a side project I’ll share more about tomorrow so I’m still figuring out my writing schedule. Also promise I’ll respond to all asks this week as well! As always, feel free to check out this chapter on AO3 and know that I adore all kudos, comments, asks, etc. You all make this journey such a gift ❤️

These days, things somehow felt slow and exciting at the same time — it was odd. There was so much at stake and all of it lay within the borders of Republic City. In a few weeks time, Kuvira’s spirit cannon would reach completion and the army would be on its way to claim all that remained to consecrate the Empire.

Although you still find yourself caught up the more bureaucratic aspects of the work — paperwork, meetings, more paperwork — it feels like you can almost touch the weight of anticipation that hangs in the air. Nothing else slows down but everyone appears to hold a collective breath as Baatar works on the final touches of the machine.

Today in particular, you decide to take a trip to engineering. Kuvira is nowhere to be found so you assume she’s off in some pressing meeting with her sergeants. Perhaps strategizing for the City’s response and especially the Avatar’s. Given the scope of the army’s proposed attack, you can’t possibly imagine anyone, not even Korra, withstanding such magnitude of force.

You feel a slight twinge in your chest at the thought of what lies ahead. You think of Bolin, Varrick, and Zhu Li. You wonder whether Raiko will willingly submit to Kuvira and spare the damages that will transpire if he doesn’t.

But at this point, you know better than that. If the United Republic had wanted to end things peacefully, Kuvira would have already reached an accord with them. It was clear no one was willing to budge so you could only hope that the damages would be as minimal as possible.

You stroll into the warehouse, following the sharp sounds of electricity and metal clanking together. A number of privates salute you as you walk past and you offer them reassuring smiles. “At ease, privates,” you chuckle. Despite how much time has passed, you’ll never grow accustomed to the way people interact with you for being both Kuvira’s significant other and a critical role in her Inner Circle.

Baatar recognizes your voice and he looks down from the platform several feet above you. He calls your name excitedly and you can’t help but grin. Admittedly you’ve never been too fond of the man (even back in Zaofu) but you would be wrong to deny all of the incredible work he’s put into bringing the army this far along. Plus, he’s done his best to get on your good side once it became clear his chances with Kuvira were effectively eliminated.

“How’re things going up there?” you call out.

“They’re going,” Baatar responds, somewhat disillusioned. Your brow furrows together and you cross your arms.

“What’s the matter? You don’t sound too pleased,” you remark.

“I can’t seem to make the connection between the cannon and the suit’s body...each piece functions properly on its own but the wiring simply won’t synthesize everything together,” he explains.

“Hm...I’m not sure how much help I could be but could I come check it out at least? If anything it’ll be a good way for me to admire all your handiwork,” you say.

Baatar smiles halfheartedly and sighs. “I suppose. Perhaps there’s something you might notice that I haven’t been able to. Five straight hours can do that to someone,” he admits, leaning over to press the yellow button that unfolds a metal staircase.

Once it lands on the floor with a soft clink, you leap onto it and head up until you’re within an arm’s length from Baatar. Being much closer to him you can see the lines of exhaustion etched below his eyes. His hair is gelled down neatly, though some strands of it fall along his temples where it sticks to a thin film of perspiration.

“Baatar...have you seriously been working on this for five hours straight?” you ask.

He appears confused by the question and purses his lips. “Of course I have. What else would I be working on?” he replies.

“I understand but...you should take a break soon. At least a half hour or something,” you recommend. He vehemently shakes his head in protest.

“Absolutely not. Kuvira wouldn’t allow it and with good reason. Every moment wasted on anything other than this machine is more time lost to take Republic City for the Empire. I will not be the reason everything we’ve worked for is lost,” he states.

You stay quiet, watching him worriedly before you release a soft sigh. You always knew Baatar to be...a deeply passionate man since joining Kuvira. From what you had pieced together during your conversations with her, you learned that he grew up in his father’s shadow. He was always praised as the mirror image of the older Baatar, with an aptitude for design and engineering.

When he joined Kuvira, it was probably the first time in his life that something was entirely his own. Not an addition to his father’s work, not a continuation of everything so many people expected of him. What he created was novel, powerful, and completely his own.

Understandably, he had grown so invested in this final display of his autonomy and innovation that any potential threat to it was unfathomable.

“It’s alright, I understand,” you reassure him, stepping forward and tentatively resting your hand on his forearm. You feel him tense beneath you and you wish he hadn’t because now it feels even more awkward. You’ve never felt the urge to offer him any sort of comfort until now but then he relaxes and you can slide your hand away without feeling too uncomfortable.

“So!” you exclaim, hoping to break the odd tension. “You said you were having trouble connecting the cannon to the rest of the suit?”

“Indeed,” Baatar sighs. He peers into gaping machinery, sifting through thick cords of wiring and metal. “I’ve checked for any and all missing pieces and there isn’t a single thing out of place. I wonder if you’d be able to see anything I might be missing.”

You chew on your lower lip, growing nervous at the prospect of going anywhere near the obviously complicated technology. The chances of you damaging anything are close to none...though they aren’t quite zero.

Nevertheless, you lean forward just an inch to gaze upon the convoluted maze coiled within the massive platinum encasements. None of it makes sense to you and you feel foolish even bothering to check.

Even so, you angle your hand forward and throw Bataar a questioning look. He nods and you start carefully pushing aside the cords in hopes of seeing, well, something.

At the exact moment you feel an indentation in one of the metal fibers, you hear the echo of footsteps below and the sound of Kuvira’s voice. You mean to pull away in excitement but the hem of your sleeve gets caught.

Grumbling, you manage to pull it away but not before feeling a sensation pulse through your body that’s lightning hot and stinging all the same. The pain concentrates in your arm for a split second and your eyes are forced closed.

The only thing you’re aware of is the muffled sound of shouting around you beneath your own screaming before your head crashes against something cold and hard and your vision fades into complete darkness.

---

“This could have been so much worse, Baatar. Do you have any idea how much worse this could have been?”

The voice sounds distant, almost warped, as if it were coming from another room. Wait...are you in a room? It feels still and quiet so you assume you are.

Your eyes are sealed shut and it feels like your brain is trying to push out of your skull. When you try to twitch your fingers, a searing pain shoots up your left arm and a pained sound gets caught in your throat.

Okay. So no moving yet.

You inhale slowly and wince at the sharp ache in your ribs and your chest. Other than that, nothing hurts too bad if you stay relatively still so you focus on maintaining a careful breath.

As you start to grow accustomed to the aches and pains, you let your eyelids flutter open. Well, flutter almost seems too glamorous to describe the heavy feeling when you peel them apart. It feels like you’ve had them shut for weeks.

You try not to move your head around too much as you scan your surroundings, realizing you’re back in the tent you share with Kuvira. The lanterns have been blown out so you assume it’s nighttime until you hear the voices again.

“Kuvira, I apologize profusely for my lapse in judgement. I should have known better than to—”

“You’re right. You should have known better and you didn’t. Baatar, I expect nothing but the utmost professionalism from you and now is not the time to make such potentially fatal errors.”

Though you can’t see anything, you clearly envision what poor Baatar’s face must look like: crumpled in defeat and tight with regret. You want to get up and reassure him you’re okay, though you aren’t really sure what happened in the first place.

Instead, you clear your throat and before you can even open your mouth, Kuvira’s voice whispers something rushedly before she bends the door open and steps inside. You expect to see Baatar join her but she enters alone, sliding it shut and preventing anyone else from entering.

“You’re awake,” Kuvira sighs, rushing over to you and kneeling at your side. Her hands hover over your arm, unsure, and it catches you off guard. Kuvira’s self-assurance rarely falters — when it does, it’s a cause for concern.

“I am,” you affirm, attempting a soft grin before you try to push yourself up. As your left arm protests in agony, you realize it’s been bandaged with multiple layers of thick gauze. Kuvira notices your confused expression and her face grows grim.

“What happened?” you ask. Kuvira stares at your arm for a few moments in thick silence, almost as if her capacity to speak had been plucked from her throat the instant you broached the subject.

“There was a damaged piece of armored cable,” she eventually says. “Between the wiring and what little spirit energy was being transmitted from the suit’s core, it was exposed enough to deliver a shock that knocked you out for hours.”

Ah. So that explained the bandaged arm and why everything else seared in a dull, muted ache.

“Hours? That’s better than what I thought,” you joked. “I could’ve sworn I was out for weeks!” You attempt to laugh but Kuvira finally looks up at you and her expression is so grave it effectively shuts down whatever attempt you make to lighten the situation.

“You could have been,” she hisses. “Had you gotten any closer to that damaged material who knows what could have—I don’t know what I—”

“Kuvira,” you interrupt. Her eyes slide shut and she grips the bedsheet tight, closing her fist over the material with a force that would break anything else if it were more solid. You manage to lift yourself up with your good arm and once you’re upright, you press your palm against her cheek.

“I’m okay, really I am,” you reassure her. “It’s probably just some bruising here and there. Plus my arm will be good in no time, you’ll see.”

“I know that, it’s just…” Kuvira’s voice trails off for a few moments before she can continue. She swallows hard and exhales shakily. “I walked in exactly as it happened and...it looked like you were gone. I heard you scream and when you went quiet, your body hit the ground and I could’ve sworn you...you weren’t there anymore.”

“I’m here now, Kuvira,” you murmur, dragging your thumb over her cheekbone in that way she loves but has never actually verbalized. You maintain a slow pace until you feel Kuvira melt into your touch, her features softening.

“I’m right here with you, alright?” you tell her. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m going to be okay and I promise I’ll be more careful. Now why don’t we go on a walk and maybe grab some tea?”

“No,” Kuvira responds quickly. “You stay here and I’ll bring you whatever you need. Besides, it’s late and you should be resting anyway. We’ll spend the night in the tent and see how you’re feeling tomorrow. Just...wait here.”

She leans forward to press her lips against your temple, staying there for a moment, confirming to herself that you’re really alive, and then breaks away with a reluctant stride. You sigh but smile inwardly, leaning back and hoping you get better soon so Kuvira will feel more at ease.

---

True to form, you recover within the span of a few days from the worst of it all. You take it easy in the days immediately succeeding the accident, even finding some spare time to meet with Baatar and assure him there’s no bad blood. He can’t find it in himself to accept forgiveness, though frankly you don’t blame any of it on him. You make it a point to eat the occasional meal with him when time permits...something you never envisioned doing mere months ago.

Character development indeed.

Though your arm takes longer to heal, you get back to work within three days time, albeit with slightly less mobility. Nevertheless, you approach your assignments with the same level of attention and detail as you would any other time.

However, the one thing that remains the same is Kuvira’s unwillingness to stay away from you for longer than thirty minute intervals.

Ever since the accident, she stays by your side almost nonstop except when she’s called away for business that doesn’t involve you. A hand on your waist when you lift yourself off a chair, her arms circling you as you get out of bed, her fingers guiding you towards an exit when there are too many people nearby.

Today, you’re filing away the last of the latest shipment updates from Yi. You sigh and Kuvira looks up from across the room. “Are you alright? Are you in pain?” she asks worriedly.

You bite your lip with hopes that it’ll stop you from rolling your eyes as you shake your head. “I’m fine, Kuvira,” you respond. “Head’s just feeling loaded from all these files. I think I’m going to close out for the day.”

“Of course. Let me take you to our quarters,” Kuvira replies, shoving away whatever she was working on and making her way towards you. She offers you her hand which you take, not without some exasperation.

“I can get there on my own, you know,” you remind her, hoping you don’t come off as too abrasive. Luckily it seems to go over her head because Kuvira is too preoccupied with making sure your knee doesn’t smash against the desk or that the wall doesn’t touch any other part of your body.

“Of course I know that but I won’t let you,” Kuvira says simply. And with that, she guides you back to the tent with one arm wrapped around your waist, her hand digging softly into your side. The guards look on with a mix of sympathetic glances and the occasional teasing grin. You grimace in response and do your best to ignore them, affronted that they’ve become so bold.

You reach the tent and you aren’t sure what look Kuvira gives the guards because they quickly scramble away (or as good as one can scramble in a bulky mech suit) so she can bend the door open. She steps in first, letting you lean on her arm to lift you up the two steps.

“Here, let’s get you into bed,” she murmurs, leading you towards the mattress and releasing your hand as you sit down.

“Kuvira…” You start to say but something in her face makes you stop. You’re tempted to tell her to ease up, that you’re fine and she’s worrying over nothing but you remind yourself what you would’ve felt in her place. You’ve seen Kuvira come close to death too many times and the thought nearly destroyed you.

So you keep quiet because you know she’s not actually being domineering. You hold her hand between both of yours and bring it to your lips, sliding the glove off so you can press your mouth against her bare skin.

“Don’t leave, Kuvira,” you murmur. “Can you...can you stay with me?”

“Of course,” Kuvira whispers, her face losing some of its tension as she sits to your side. She watches you intently and you can’t tell what she’s looking for. Perhaps some indication of pain? Discomfort?

The tent is quiet for some time and when Kuvira breaks the silence her voice is unusually hesitant. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable lately,” she sighs. You look at her and her expression is unreadable.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“I’m afraid I’ve been rather...overbearing for the past few days. I know you’d never say it outright but I imagine it’s been difficult for you to deal with,” she explains. “I hope you understand why I’ve done it though.”

She adds that last sentence almost as if to reassure herself that her behavior is warranted which, frankly, it absolutely is and it pains you to think she doesn’t believe that.

You press closer to her until your thighs touch, lifting your hand to tilt her face towards yours and cupping your fingers around her jaw.

“Of course I understand, Kuvira. It’s absolutely fine. I can’t expect you to recover from something so frightening in such a short amount of time. I’m sorry if I gave the impression that you had to,” you apologize.

Kuvira exhales sharply and her lips curl into a faint smile. “Never. If anything you’ve been extremely patient for someone who’s had their partner doting on them for almost every waking hour,” she chuckles.

You grin and lean forward until the tip of your nose brushes against Kuvira’s. “Well I can’t say it hasn’t been kind of sweet having the Great Uniter at my beck and call,” you respond slyly.

“But don’t you always?” Kuvira asks, closing the gap between your faces just enough for her lips to nearly graze over your own.

“I suppose you’d think so,” you giggle. “Clearly you’ve been more...zealous as of late, haven’t you?”

Kuvira hums while she slides the other glove off her hand, lifting her fingers until they wrap around the back of your neck. The caress of warm skin produces a thrill that courses all the way down your spine. “May I kiss you?” she whispers and her breath tickles the skin below your ear.

“Please,” you respond, bridging the space that separates you and finally bringing her supple mouth against yours. The kiss is tentative and chaste, so similar to the ones you would share in the early days of your relationship. Kuvira’s hand stays still on your skin, mirroring the carefulness of her mouth, so evidently displaying her anxiety of moving too abruptly for fear of harming you in some way.

So you decide to encourage her further, parting your lips and letting the tip of your tongue playfully brush against hers. Kuvira gasps and jerks backward, her face already tinted a lovely shade of red. It’s an unusual look for her but one that you relish for its rarity.

“What’s the matter? Too much?” you ask. The inquiry comes out sounding much more playful than you’d intended.

“I, um. I guess I didn’t expect that. I thought you would want to take things slow for now,” she elaborates. Kuvira is normally so composed, hyper-aware of every sound and movement she makes especially when she’s being closely observed, which is why you’re pleasantly surprised to see the way her throat clenches as she swallows.

“I’ll take things slow if that’s what you want. Is that what you want, Kuvira?” you ask innocently, lifting your eyebrows and removing your hands from her body. “Do you just want me to kiss you nice and slow...not deeper and harder until you feel your heart pounding against your chest? Not until you start kissing my neck and moving your hand lower and lower...just enough to feel how wet—”

Much to your delight, you’re swiftly cut off when Kuvira seals her mouth over yours again, the force of it strong enough to push you back an inch. You make a pleased sound in your throat and finally throw your arms around her neck, readjusting until you can swing your legs over her thighs and rest upon her lap.

Kuvira’s hands drift mindlessly over your sides, not quite touching but not too far off either. You grow exasperated so you tug on them and wrap them around your hips, grinding downwards so she can feel the growing heat between your legs. How desperately you’ve wanted this for days now.

She moans softly against your mouth and her patience wears thin within moments. Between the havoc you wreak on her lips and the canting motion of your body against her thighs, she eventually cradles you against her arm before placing you onto the mattress on your back.

You gasp in pleasant surprise once she hovers over you. She carries her weight with even greater caution, overly cognizant of potentially pressing down too hard and hurting you.

“What happened to taking it slow?” you tease breathlessly, hovering your fingers over the metal plates on her shoulder. She notices right away and knocks them off with quick work of her hands. They’re tossed onto the ground with a resounding clash.

“I think you should be asking yourself that question,” she responds, leaning down until her lips dance across your neck. “What was that you were mentioning earlier?” she whispers against you, dragging her tongue along the skin that isn’t covered by your uniform.

Your body instantly arches upward, feeling Kuvira’s breasts press against your chest. Between the accident and how busy everything already was before that, it had been weeks since you’ve been with her like this.

Therefore it’s no surprise that your body responds accordingly.

“Now don’t tell me you’ve gone all soft on me,” Kuvira says, pushing away the collar of your uniform and carefully sinking her teeth into the flesh at the base of your neck. You’re at a total loss for words, the sounds and syllables dissipating with each brush of Kuvira’s mouth on your body.

“Because that would be such a shame. I do love it when you make me work for it,” she sighs. Her hands, firm yet careful nonetheless, drift downwards until one rests over your hip. Even through the layers of fabric, her touch produces a sensation like fire that spreads from the point of contact all the way to each bit of muscle and nerve.

“But you also love it when I’m completely at your mercy, don’t you?” you shoot back, rather proud that your voice isn’t as weak as you expected it to be. Kuvira cocks an eyebrow and removes her mouth from your neck. You mourn the loss momentarily but keep going.

“You can’t deny it, Kuvira,” you continue, your eyes widening with glee. “I’ve seen the look in your eyes when you have me all tied up, completely and utterly at your disposal for whatever you desire. Haven’t you missed that? The way I’m completely helpless when you bind me up and all I can do is wait to see what you’ll do next.”

“It sounds like you’ve been thinking about this for some time,” Kuvira exhales, already short of breath.

“Oh I certainly have. And given how you can barely get through an entire sentence without gasping for air, I’d say you’re quite a fan of the prospect yourself,” you murmur.

“Are you sure? You’re not in any pain at all? I don’t want to hurt you,” Kuvira says quietly, the lustful look on her face morphing into one of concern.

You nod assuredly and shyly press your lips to hers again. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure. We’ve got our word, remember? I’ll let you know if I need you to stop.”

Kuvira nods against your touch and moves her hand to the back of your neck once more, this time undoing the buttons that hold the article together and lifting your arms to pull it away. The fabric bunches up around your bandaged forearm and though the gauze isn’t as thick anymore, it’s enough to make you both pause.

You bite back the laughter flooding your mouth and Kuvira looks vaguely irritated. Nevertheless, she approaches the minor hiccup with her usual, unhurried maneuvers until it slides away and you’re only covered by a soft undershirt.

The scars beneath the gauze start throbbing a bit but you manage to keep the worst at bay. It’s nothing too bad — nothing worth paying much attention to.

Kuvira spends the next few moments showering kisses, bites, and caresses over every inch of skin she can reach with her mouth. She takes you apart with slow and intentional movements until all you can do is lay frenzied with desire beneath her ministrations and attempt to hold back the pathetically desperate sounds that fall from your lips.

She begins to lift up the undershirt until it glides over and off your head and falls to the ground, along with the growing heap of Kuvira’s clothes mixed with your own. She keeps your arms high above your head, sliding her fingers over your skin and pauses. When she stops, you realize your eyes have been shut so you snap them open and look down at her impatiently.

“Don’t you worry...I’ve got exactly what you’ve been waiting for,” she murmurs. Kuvira lifts her hands and starts to coil her fingers. You hear the sharp sound of metal sliding against metal and then you see two silver strips emerging from her abandoned uniform. They float menacingly above your bodies, gradually curling into crescent shapes that hover over your wrists.

“I think it’s about time,” Kuvira whispers. Not a moment is wasted between the time she utters those words and the sensation of frigid metal clasping around your wrists, pulling your arms together and holding you down tight.

You’re met with an immediate burst of exhilaration and you ride it for about five seconds before it’s overridden with a growing feeling of discomfort that spreads under your bandages. You do your best to ignore it and instead focus on Kuvira moving downwards until she reaches the hem of your trousers.

“Now let’s see just how much you’ve wanted this,” she purrs against your hip, clipping her teeth over the edge of the fabric and using it to guide her hands as they slide it off. She’s soon met with the throbbing heat nestled between your thighs and you sigh in shameless pleasure.

As delicious as it feels, the pain in your arm only intensifies with each passing moment. You attempt to zero in on Kuvira’s mouth brushing against your bare hip, your thigh, the feeling of her lips hovering over the wet fabric of your underwear. It becomes overwhelming — the tension of wanting more but feeling your arm quiver with increasing pain.

“May I?” Kuvira asks, hooking her finger over the thin fabric and hinting at tearing it off. You murmur a quivering “yes” and hope she can’t sense the discomfort in your voice. She promptly removes them, dragging them down your legs and pressing her face against the crease where your hip meets your thigh.

It’s such an unbearable union of tender and carnal that it makes your body jerk hard against the restraints. The material digs into your injury just enough to make you cry out in distress.

“Silver, Kuvira! Silver,” you grunt through gritted teeth. Kuvira immediately breaks away and bends the metal strips off from your arms. They land on the floor with a harsh sound that makes you flinch.

“What do you need? What should I do?” she asks calmly. It would almost startle you how quickly she manages to shift tonalities but right now, it brings you a comfort you didn’t realize you needed.

“My arm...it-it stings,” you mumble, carrying it down until it rests on your abdomen. “I just need a second. Maybe that healing salve?”

“Of course. Stay still, alright? I’ve kept it in my desk,” Kuvira reassures, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead and leaping off the bed. She throws a spare bed sheet over her body as she strides across the room, shuffling through a drawer until she finds the salve and a sealed green pouch.

She kneels on the bed and slides her arm around your bare back to help lift you up with little pressure. Once you’re upright, she gingerly takes your injured arm between her hands and begins to unfold the gauze.

The skin that emerges is marred with a thin layer of scarred flesh, much less angry than how it appeared just last week. Kuvira uncovers the glass jar and scoops a portion of the salve onto two fingers that she presses against the wound.

It feels awful at first, almost exacerbating the pain, but it gradually melts into a refreshing coolness that numbs the discomfort. You hiss a bit at the beginning and Kuvira lifts her hand away.

“Is it too much?” she murmurs. “I’m not pressing down too hard, am I?”

You shake your head adamantly. “No, not at all,” you respond. “You’re totally fine. Just stung at first. It feels good now, I promise.”

Kuvira nods in understanding, rubbing the last of the substance onto your skin and pulling open the small pouch. She pulls out a long strip of gauze that she untangles and starts folding over your arm, sealing the salve’s properties against the scars.

She moves smoothly, indicative of one who has done this many times before. You wonder how often she had tended to others’ wounds as a guard in Zaofu.

“You’re all set,” she affirms once she ties it all together. She rests her hand over her handiwork, stroking her thumb over the material and looking up at you concernedly. “What else do you need?”

“I hate to say it but I think you were right,” you chuckle. “I think...I just want to sleep now. Do you, uh...do you mind, er—holding me?”

Kuvira’s face brightens even in the darkness of the tent and she nods, guiding your bodies back down to the bed so she can curl her body around yours, mindful of where your injured arm rests. Your legs tangle with hers as Kuvira tugs a thick blanket over your shoulders, bringing you closer to her chest until your forehead touches her collarbone.

The silence is comfortable, soothing. Exactly what you need. But you can’t shake the slight degree of embarrassment that clings to your thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Kuvira murmurs. “I know you want to...and I understand. I won’t scold you for it but just know you don’t have to. I’m glad you told me. That’s what we do, right? Honesty.”

You nod against her and swallow. “You’re right...I appreciate it,” you respond. And though you don’t exchange any more words for what remains of the evening before you fall asleep, you lose yourself in the calming silence that follows. Kuvira’s hands float up and down your back and your shoulders, guiding you into a dreamless sleep that welcomes you with warmth and safety.

#sour cherry #kuvira/reader #kuvira x reader #kuvira legend of korra #kuvira lok #avatar lok #x reader #reader insert #minor accident #protective!kuvira #remember this is NOT a spicy chapter!!!#just like...a hint of spice...some hot cheetos dust if you will

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ginkgomoon · 3 years ago

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I Like You A Latte- Gavin ☕️

Happy blog birthday to @cheri-cheri. Another gift would like to present itself to you! 💙

“The exam is officially over,” you sigh.

All those years of studying and recurring late nights pouring the blood, sweat and tears for you push towards the finish line were all worth it.

You are now free.

Kind of… but not really.

For once, you were outside not catching the train to go university, heading off into another library or exam room. You had thought to savour this rare time to yourself before heading off to find a job. Thankfully, public transport is convenient enough to take you just about anywhere in Loveland City.

With only your phone, wallet and keys in hand, you stroll along the all too familiar building blocks near your home, pondering on where to go for the long awaited first day out by yourself. Should you go for some udon? Bingsoo? Pudding, perhaps?

While breathing in the sweet air of freedom, you admire the city that you grew up in, absorbing the view from down below and up at the infrastructure that the city was so renowned for.

The height, distance and those buildings haven't changed. But you- the stages of your life, experiences and perspectives have. The city almost seemed a little bit more… brighter. More alive. Or maybe… would it be for just this once?

This, you fear.

The glare of the sun continues beating down, its light reflecting off the glass buildings passing its judgement on the entire city. The heat is suffocating and you long for a cool drink or nice air-con to rely on to keep you sane.

A vision suddenly intrudes, presenting the clean pastel coloured store-front of the café that had just opened up nearby. You remember that you had power-walked right past the “WE ARE OPEN” sign on your way home from a past exam to prepare for the final one a few days ago.

You know you rarely enter any cafés at all, but your love for coffee and urge to explore someplace new begin to steer your legs into the walking direction of where you had remembered it to be.

As you soon reach the entrance, the sign you saw from the peripheral of your memory greets you.

“BRUNCH CAFE. WE ARE OPEN.”

You push open the heavy glass door, instantly entering a world of relief. Still in between the two opposing temperatures, you hastily swing the door back and encase yourself in paradise.

You take a moment to briefly scan your surroundings. The café, although it claims to be open, has everything but the barista. It wasn’t as big as the Starbucks down at the shopping centres, but it was humble enough for its size and able to fit all the requirements a café needs.

Soft instrumental music starts to reel you in further, like a siren hypnotising a sailor. You feel... peaceful. Though you wonder if you were hearing the non-diegetic music of the film occurring right in front of your eyes instead of your almost-dream café.

The minimalist designs, the ambience, and the extremely posh and elegant windows that you didn’t admire enough the first time strikes your appeal. You also confirm with yourself that this was the café that you would choose to break the cycle of drinking instant coffees everyday.

Just this once.

On the left side, those posh windows were flaunting on display, and to the right had little cubicles laid out perfect for providing spacious privacy. You marvel at what a genius idea the store owner had to create such a comforting and unique interior for a café. There was not a thing out of place.

Except of course, the barista.

You head over to where the cubicles were waiting and as you turn into the corner, you almost trip over something that looks like… a foot?

Following the coffee-stained sport shoes, your eyes slowly drift up on its owner, locking on a sleeping figure on the seats of the cubicle.

A young man with a soft aura.

You squint in confusion.

The poor cubicle clearly wasn’t big enough to fit his entire body. His hair seems to have fallen into place like dominos having slightly covering his eyelids, and appears to be breathing in a gentle rhythm with his chest following in sync. Your eyes also end up emphasising his jawline as you continue to stare.

His chest- wait.

A little badge on the right corner of his shirt immediately becomes the salient object.

So, he is the barista.

Barista… Gabin?

You lean closer at the words printed out on it.

No, it’s Ga-vin.

Apart from how attractive he looks, you question yourself- why is the barista sleeping during opening hours?

The man’s eyes slowly crack open, like a shell opening to display the pearl from inside, and you finally see his eyes of beautiful amber squinting back at you. Though, you can’t tell if it was because of the bright lights inside the cafe, or if he was solely observing you- and why you were so close to him at this very moment.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” you cry, instantly retracting from your forward-leaning position. Your brain tries to racks up reasons why you two were in this situation incase he asks.

“There was something on your face” or “your foot was in the way” could work. No- “sorry, I’ve never seen another human being before” sounds a lot more believable.

Gavin, the barista, furrows his eyebrows in confusion then seemingly in frustration.

Your body tenses.

It’s coming.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep…” he sighs softly.

You do another quick scan and take that only the two of you were in the cafe now, unless there was another sleeping barista somewhere else you didn’t notice.

“If you're here for coffee, it’s on the house. An apology for what you saw just now…. Just don’t tell the boss if he’s here,” Gavin lightly coughs.

“Oh okay... Thank you. A latte please,” you say, rather not wanting to question it further. For now. But free coffee made by this gorgeous barista? How could anyone refuse this offer? All you did was stare. In that case, you would gladly do it again.

You settle your belongings on the table and catch Gavin rolling up his sleeves, putting on the display of his toned forearms. Luckily, your cubicle entrance was facing the direction of the workbench allowing yourself to watch him set up.

You start to wish for your coffee to be as hot as him.

Scalding hot.

Gavin steadily handles the jug and effortlessly pours the milk into the latte glass with the espresso already inside. Despite your sight of his expertise, he still can’t hide the subtle droopiness of his eyes and the slight furrow of his eyebrows again.

You figure it would be better if you come up to him instead so he wouldn’t have to travel the whole way to your cubicle with his current state being like this.

You gingerly make your way to his workbench while fumbling for a topic to break the awkward silence in your head.

“Is it just you working here today or…?” you ask.

“Is there another hot sleeping barista I should know about?” you continued in your head.

Gavin hands you the transparent cup accompanied by the saucer, a little spoon, a packet of sugar and a complimentary ginkgo-shaped cookie on the side.

The art displayed formed a symmetrical heart with perfect one centimetre foam to present the perfect latte.

“There’s the chef who’s actually the boss of this place but sometimes he dashes in and out. Especially when there’s no customers as of late. I have no idea where he goes, actually. Right now is no exception,” he replies, sweeping the remains of the coffee grounds into the knock box.

“And you do all the work for him? That doesn’t seem fair. Does he allow you to make your own cup of coffee at least?”

“Well, not exactly. I just work over-time till late. Plus, I think my body is practically immune to caffeine by now,” Gavin laughs.

"Me too," you comment.

As tired as he looks, he still has the energy to light up a smile, even with a stranger. His mouth forms an effortlessly handsome arc and you feel something emerging from within your heart, so subtle that you almost think that you could have mistaken yourself as the protagonist in a romance novel.

Though working overtime till late… at a brunch cafe?

You don’t question him any further. You take a whiff at the single delicate-looking plain ginkgo cookie and have a bite. This moment of peace and serenity was offering the much needed break from all that tension and pressure you were under- apart from Gavin being here, though he didn’t seem to mind your presence.

You lean forward to place your elbows on the counter and stare at the coffee in front, frowning a little at the reality of ruining the beautiful heart. You rip open the sugar and pour in half, then give it a stir with the spoon. The foam is perfectly silky and frothy, fusing with the crema like a starry galaxy.

You remind yourself that "it was okay" because this moment would forever remain in your own heart instead. Delicious, creamy arabica coffee.

Like those ginkgo leaves dancing in the wind that autumn day.

You smile at the memory before multiple begin to overlap with another. Ones where you had passed by the senior classrooms catching a glimpse of a boy staring out of the window or down in a random alleyway on your bicycle.

You didn’t think much of it back then either, but he had always looked familiar and seemed to be everywhere you were too. Crossing paths in hallways and even at the library, reading. That upperclassman boy named-

“-Gavin?”

He looks up.

“From school?”

You wonder why you hadn’t realised.

His facial features are now more defined, sharper, and still a head taller than you. Who would have thought the hot barista was actually an old schoolmate. You put your coffee down and internally scream.

“You remember me?” he softly asks.

“Just a little bit. Wait, do you know who I am?”

“Just a little bit.”

Gavin smiles.

You break eye contact and continue drinking, not wanting the coffee to get cold during this exchange. But even now it tastes different than before.

“So, what brings you here?” he asks.

“Taking a break before I find a job. See if any place will accept me…”

“Of course they will. You’re brilliant at what you do. I have no doubts that you will be successful.”

You smile in response, taking in the last of the remaining coffee.

“How do you know? We haven’t seen each other in so long. And I don’t think we’ve ever interacted this much in the past."

“I just do… Trust me.”

You look back up. His eyes light up with so much sincerity that could power a whole entire city’s electricity.

"I never thought I'd see you again," you say.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You seemed like... you were just so difficult to figure out, especially for people like me who don't know you that well. So I never gave it a second thought either. And now here you are, making my coffee. Anyway, this is probably not making any sense..."

"No, I understand," Gavin states. "In your opinion... what kind of man am I?"

Before you could formulate a proper response, hot heat suddenly finds its way in, corroding with its cooler counterpart and signalling the entrance of another person.

Your eyes catch sight of a tall and handsome man, his aura so dominating that the heat you feel could just be from him instead.

“That’s the boss,” Gavin whispers.

The boss saunters his way in straight towards you two. His black hair matches his suit and tie, making him appear more like a CEO than of a chef.

“Don’t worry, I’m just going to the back to restock some things, I’ll be right back,” Gavin says, shooting you a comforting smile.

While trying to process all of this, your eyebrows are the ones to furrow now instead. How could this boss treat an employee like this? Working overtime without proper breaks? This to you was appalling and certainly see this as an act of injustice. Being the good and lawful citizen that you are, you decide to treat this like one.

“Excuse me.”

Before he enters the kitchen, he turns, offering his full attention to you. You thought you had a good grasp on what you wanted to say, but it seems that your head had disconnected from your voice box.

“Your employee…” you begin, “he seems very fatigued. I think you should be sharing the workload equally instead of leaving the cafe. Haven’t you ever heard of a collegial workplace before?”

His eyebrow lifts- in amusement, mockery or consideration, you don’t know. After all, your words carrying the “sense of justice” did sound a lot better in your head.

“I don’t interfere with anyone’s personal lives,” he said, his deep voice shattering your “prosecution”. But before you could have another go at him, he retreats into the kitchen.

Gavin returns with takeaway cups and lids and sees you standing flabbergasted at your interaction with the boss.

“You okay?”

You reply back with a little “humph” at the direction of the kitchen then turn to Gavin restocking the items on the cup warmer of the coffee machine.

"I-it’s nothing."

After all, this was your first and last time here, and maybe you shouldn't have acted so impulsively on a situation like this. Plus, how would Gavin react if you push the topic further?

You sigh. Hopefully the plan to have a drink and catch up with an old friend later in the night will settle the agitation you feel.

A soft ding is heard from your phone reminding you to get ready to leave.

Perfect timing.

As you reluctantly pack your things, you glance at Gavin’s way, who looks like he’s about to end his shift for the day as well.

You don’t want to be supporting a business owner who treats his employees like this, but yet seeing Gavin this way made you feel helpless. It’s a shame that you won’t see another handsome barista like this again. Or see him again. Or probably enter another cafe at all after this.

“I have to go.”

Your voice interrupts his workflow, and he frowns.

“Now?”

“I have somewhere to be, unfortunately.”

Gavin takes a moment to process this.

“Why don’t you wait till I leave? That way, I can see you off. It will only be a minute.”

More like a minute's time to sob about this man who could have been your boyfriend in a parallel universe. But as long as you won’t be late to meet up with your friend, you agree to wait for Gavin to finish up.

You linger by the entrance, not wanting to intrude his workspace again and steer clear from the awkwardness that could arise from watching him up close.

But after that literal minute, he steps outside with you and the heaviness in your heart starting to simmer back up again. The air already seems to have to cooled down, providing a thankful comfort to your surroundings.

Looking at him now, you almost change your mind. You could maybe see him again when you have time in the future. To... catch up.

Just maybe.

“Thank you for today," you say. You remind yourself to not get too attached, having really not know if you would be ready for all of that, especially for what was to come in the future.

You slowly walk backwards into the direction of your home, back where you need to get ready for the night out again.

“Thanks for coming. It was nice meeting you again,” he replies.

As you turn to leave, in your peripheral vision Gavin tracks forward to cover every step you took away from him, pulling a hesitant arm up to say something more.

But by then, you were already turning the corner and out of sight.

-And after all this time, your thoughts keep returning to those moments.

A couple of hours pass and your mind still orbits Gavin and that café. You wonder if there was something more you could have done or said. Hopefully he didn’t mistake your hurried steps for something else.

You soon arrive at the venue that you and your friend unanimously agreed on, though as you tippy-toe your way through the crowd to spot her, it seems that she hasn't arrived at the agreed time yet.

As you wait, you fiddle with the side of your dress. You decided to go with the classy minimalist look- a black dress and simple ginkgo drop earrings you bought recently. You didn't want to draw any attention to yourself, but you were satisfied that you were well-dressed enough to feel glamorous for the night. However, wanting to avoid the additional heat of the weather sticking on your body like a tattoo, you decide to head in first.

The music gradually becomes clearer and definitely louder as you weave your way through the hallway entrance towards the heart of the club, with the lights dimly lit and its walls enclosed for the darkness to rule.

You haven’t been in a place like this for so long, especially when you got used to the quiet and calm environment of libraries, the home, and the café earlier…

You could feel everyone’s body heat from a good healthy distance away, even at the seat of the bar. You don’t plan on getting drunk tonight, but you know your alcohol tolerance is so low that you figure it would be best if you should order a little fruity mocktail first instead then perhaps have a real drink with your friend when she arrives later.

You give a quick text notifying her of your location and place your phone back into your purse, ready to order.

Darkness continues to stir as you struggle to locate the bartender.

What kind of bartender is this person if they’re not at the bar?

Lights rotate and blind its way in every direction. For a fleeting second, it lands on the person across from you, illuminating those unforgettable eyes and smile of its owner.

His eyes are just as wide as yours.

"It's you."

The barista- no, bartender, was Gavin.

#I had so much fun with this one #happy birthday Cheri #I CANT WAIT FOR YOU TO READ THIS SIDISJSJS #3k words!!#THIS WAS THE SPECIAL POST I WAS TALKING ABOUT #mlqc #mr love queens choice #love and producer #恋与制作人 #gavin #mlqc gavin #mlqc fanfic #Gavin week

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knifefather · 4 years ago

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KnifeFather’s Kinktober 2020, 18+ NSFW ➼ Day 13: Breeding or squirting ➼ Pairing: Kars/Reader ➼ Word count: 2.2k ➼ Reader is AFAB and female pronouns are used. ➼ Also available on Ao3. ➼ Warning: This chapter contains dark themes such as kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, major character death, and abuse. Proceed with caution.

Kars, as the strongest of the remaining Pillarmen, makes a decision for the future of his race. You are made into one and only queen.

*Author’s note: This fic takes place a month or so after the events of episode 20 of Battle Tendency. Caesar was killed by Wamuu, and Kars kidnapped you. He killed the rest of the protagonists, secured the Red Stone of Aja, and took over the world. He keeps you locked away as his prisoner, but also his lover. They remain in Switzerland because why not.

You looked out the wide, luxurious window at the gentle snow falling over the Swiss mountains. The plush room you sat in was oppressively lonely. Your captor-turned-lover was away, and you were left by yourself. Even with that considered, you were still acutely aware of the presence of the stone mask vampires that resided on the floors below yours. When you heard their hissing from behind your closed door, it sent a shiver down your spine and bad memories flashing through your mind. You had thought to read one of the many books that lined the shelves of the room to distract yourself. However, after thinking it over, you realized that you had read most of them all already. A few months ago, you were taken from Lisa Lisa’s group during the team’s assault on the first dilapidated mansion the Pillarmen had resided in. After discovering that Caesar was dead, you made a grave mistake. The actions you took were foolish--you tucked yourself into a far-off corner, hiding in the shadows, sobbing over the death of your friend when you were taken. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. You felt an iron grip across your midriff, and suddenly you were being stolen away deeper into the mansion, only one shrill cry escaping you before you were fully engulfed in darkness. The last thing you heard was JoJo screaming your name. You never forgot the way his voice sounded as he watched you disappear.

When you came to, you were laying on the cold, hard floor of the manor. You noticed that an attempt had been made to warm you. The quilt you laid on was soft, and you were wrapped up tightly in the fabric. Your bleary eyes opened slowly only to fall on another set of eyes, watching you intently. Red eyes. You jumped and quickly made to scramble away, a whimper of fear leaving you. You were a Hamon user like your friends, but not nearly as strong as the rest of them. If you tried to resist the Pillarman, then it was certain that you would be a goner. A second gaze fell on you as well, but the silhouette of the second person as much farther away from you. “You’re awake.” The silky voice spoke condescendingly, the being it belonged to having no need for sleep. The being stepped closer to you into the dim light, revealing the form of a large man. Kars.

He explained his reasoning for capturing you and that he had intended to keep you even despite planning to murder your friends. You tried to fight him at first, swiping your fingernails across his face, charged with Hamon, but he deflected you easily, breaking your wrist in the most agonizing way possible. It took quite some time to heal, and it was never the same again. You knew from then on not to challenge him further.

Your relationship with your captor turned sexual quickly. Many nights after the deaths of your friends were spent with him cradling you to his gargantuan chest, his cock inside you, carving out his place in your womb. He never came inside--he always pulled out of you in favor of painting your body with his spunk instead. It always left you needy and wanting more. He taught you many things about the female form and how good he could truly make you feel.

He taught you other things, as well. When he took you, your Hamon was weak. You were a poor excuse for a warrior. He trained you, educated you more on the science of the practice, and in a short time, you were strong enough to have taken on Joseph, Caesar, and Lisa Lisa all at once and won. Their absence made you train harder. What would have happened if you were skilled enough the first time always lingered in the back of your mind. Kars beat you mercilessly during training. Even with how much he held back, you were still no match for him, and it took much fortitude to even stand up to a fraction of his power. There were many nights where he was the one nursing you after he had been the one to bloody you. It fucked with you emotionally in ways that you had never thought possible before. You questioned the superhuman's intentions, even now.

Back in the present, you made your way over to the bookshelf anyway. You trailed your fingertips over the various titles that Kars and Wamuu had collected for you. The selection ranged from encyclopedias to fictional novels to cooking books. Curious, you grabbed one of the F volumes of the encyclopedias. You wandered over to the chair in the corner of the room and opened it to a random page. You scanned the book, recognizing many concepts that you were already educated on. A particular phrase caught your eye--"Freedom and free will". You swallowed thickly and read over the entry, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as you stared down at the page. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard the door close against its frame. Your head whipped up to see Kars standing there, in all his glory, large and imposing. Quickly closing the book, you tried to ignore the feeling of dread that pooled in your stomach. You hoped that you didn't look guilty as you shoved the book away from you.

“Kars,” you said lamely, rising to your feet. “I’ve missed you… Where have you been?” you ask, drawing close to him. He accepted you into his arms, and you cuddled into his chest on instinct. “What’s important is not where I’ve been, but where I am now,” he said smoothly, holding you close. Even with such an intimate gesture, a flicker of fear lived in you. You were quiet and nodded in response before he pulled back from you. He held you away from him at an arm’s length, looking over you. Under his gaze, you felt as if he were undressing you in his mind, and it made you shiver. “My pet… We’re going to do something very important this day. Lay on the bed,” he instructed, his red eyes flashing inhumanly. You swallowed and made to obey his wish, laying on the lush sheets. He stripped himself of the simple collared shirt he wore, and you felt the apex of your thighs begin to grow damp already. He always had a certain air to him when he prepared to mate with you, and it made you shiver with anticipation. “Yes, my lord? What would that be?” you dared to question, watching him now move to his trousers. “As you know, Wamuu and I are the last of our kind,” he said simply, taking his time removing his belt and trousers. “Even with the company of you and the vampires, we’ve grown quite lonely. As the strongest of the remaining Pillarmen, I’ve made a decision.” His slacks fell to the ground and you were met with an eyeful of his impressive member. It didn’t surprise you that the superhuman went commando, but you still weren’t expecting the erect cock that hung in front of you. You stayed silent, eyeing him and waiting for him to continue. He moved towards you silently, his movements perfect and unfaltering. He settled himself in front of you and you opened your thighs for him absentmindedly. “We’re going to make more?” you asked softly, your question more of a statement than anything. Kars’s long, sentient hair began to curl around the both of you, lengthening and writhing on the mattress. “Correct, my pet. I’ve made arrangements for us to bed as long as we please with no interruptions,” he whispered, helping himself to free you from your clothing. You sucked in a breath of anticipation as he stripped you bare. Your body, covered in scars laid bare to him, and he licked his lips and he watched you. The Pillarman cut right to the chase. Already, he directed your body in the way that he wanted it: you were on your back, and he hiked your ankles up to your ears, you holes on display for him. You whimpered under the heated gaze he gave you, embarrassed even though he had already seen you in every position imaginable. “Prepare yourself, little human,” he warned, his words dissolving into a soft moan as he pressed the head of his girthy member inside you. Even though he had taken you before, you never became completely accustomed to the stretch of his manhood. You controlled your breathing as he sheathed himself inside you, the Hamon training working in your favor. Your palms itched with the urge to touch the god, but they flinched away before you could make contact. Kars chuckled at your reaction. “You may touch. This is a special occasion,” he said evenly, holding your legs up to your head. You whimpered and moved to grab his powerful arms, anchoring yourself as he plunged his impossibly huge member in your dripping opening. He was too large to hilt inside you fully, but he filled you as much as he possibly could. You were already on the brink of orgasm, the stretch doing wonders on its own. “Are you ready?” he asked you.

You nodded at him. “Yes, Kars…” you confirmed weakly, your cunt clenching around him. “I’m ready to… to breed,” you whispered. This seemed to set him off. Without further ado, the Pillarman brought his hips down to yours, dragging his cock sensually along your walls, and you cried out from the intensity of the action. He began with a slow, steady pace, watching your pussy lips stretch around his member. His breaths were deliberate, keeping a check on himself even during the throes of pleasure. “Please, Lord Kars, I can take more,” you moaned, your voice sounding more sure than you felt. He gazed at you through his thick, black lashes and laughed, the sound more of a growl.

“Good pet. I’ve trained you well,” he spoke before canting his hips faster into yours. You thrashed against the mattress as the head of his cock assaulted your G spot, and your first orgasm washed over you. You grabbed him for support, and his powerful body didn't falter as you did so. Kars’s endless amusement over how passionately you submit to him showed all over his face. The horns peeking from the mane of purple hair on his head made him look like a perfect devil, but the focused and serene expression on his face made him appear angelic. It was beautifully confusing, but the details were lost to you as his heavy balls slapped against your ass. They pulsed against you, and you knew his climax impending. “You can feel it, can’t you? I’m going to breed you, my dear… Fill you with my seed,” he promised. The ultimate lifeform spread your legs impossibly wide, fucking into your womb with amazing strength. Your head grew empty, leaving you only able to cling to him and thoughtlessly beg for his essence. Kars stilled to a slower pace as he emptied himself inside you, the carnal nature of the god commanding him to dig himself as deep as he could into your pussy. Your mouth dropped open in a soundless scream, moaning and beaming up at him. He recovered from his orgasm quickly and was already beginning a moderate pace once more.

You trembled as he continued pounding away at your core. You could feel the fullness of your tummy as it began to swell with his cum, your breasts jiggling as he snapped his body into yours. If you were full from just one load, you couldn’t imagine how you were going to feel by the time the day was over. In a rare moment of sentimentality, Kars leaned over you to plant a passionate kiss on your lips, his large thighs meeting the backs of yours rhythmically. He swallowed any noises of lust you produced, and your eyes slipped shut as he took you. The sheer amount of power that rolled off of him made you fold in on yourself, and he tsked when he noticed you shrinking away. “Come now, love, don’t be shy,” he encouraged, gazing down at where your bodies connected. “This is a significant moment. You’re going to be my queen, the mother of a race.” The god looked elated to be reminding you of that fact as he ground his hips into yours, the tip of his member pushing lovingly against your cervix.

You squeezed your eyes shut, reveling in the amazing sensations. “M-My lord… Thank you--” Your words of appreciation were cut off as another rush of his semen filled you again, sending your back arching off of the bed. Your head lulled to the side as he marked you, claimed you, and you let yourself be overwhelmed with bliss as you spent the rest of the evening being filled with his tainted love.

#kars #jjba #battle tendency #kinktober #kinktober entry #not sfw #day 13 #my work #backup #minors dni #tw abuse #tw stockholm syndrome #tw death #spoilers for part 2 #spoilers #tw kidnapping

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veliseraptor · 4 years ago

Note

Hey just wondering, do you have any draft or work in process or any plan for your next Loki fic? If so can you give us a little sneak peek. Or if you don’t, do you think you’ll write more about him in the future? I know you probably get this a lot and I’m sorry if it’s annoying or if it sounds rude or anything. I’m just wondering and also I’ve been binge reading your stories about him and got addicted so there’s that. But seriously I’m sorry if my message comes off as rude or annoying, that’s not my intention. Anyway hope you’re having an amazing day

I genuinely hate to sound like a broken record, anon, since you are being very polite about this! Which I very much appreciate! But the answer remains more or less the same: I don’t know. I have (counts) 38 different Loki-related WIPs in various stages of completion sitting on my hard drive. I haven’t been working on them actively lately because, to the dismay I’m sure of many of my followers, another fandom has devoured me whole. I’m really enjoying the experience, but it has left me with relatively little brainspace for things that aren’t that thing (or, I guess, other danmei novels and adaptations thereof?? idk okay).

At some point I would like to finish at least some of those stories, because I do not like leaving things unfinished. But I just don’t know when - or if! - I will. It just depends on if I get that emotional investment back. At the moment it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen imminently, but who knows. And maybe I’ll go back and reread what I have written of some of these, go “where’s the rest, op” and feel encouraged to write more.

All that being said - since you were so nice about this, I will give you a (3000 word) excerpt from one of the WIPs - Dead Superheroes Walking, which is the one about the characters who died/were dusted in Infinity War on a road trip through the Soul Stone.

---

“Anyone for a game of twenty questions?” Sam asked, after they’d been walking for maybe ten minutes.

“Really?” Bucky said. “Twenty questions?”

“I don’t think ‘I Spy’ would work too well. Not a lot of interesting landmarks. Or hadn’t you noticed that the landscape keeps repeating?”

“I am Groot,” said Groot.

“And I have no idea what that means,” Sam said.

Sam was right, Wanda realized. The landscape was repeating. It wasn’t obvious, at first, but there was only one tree, over and over; only one rock placed near to it. The sky was a flat and even orange.

A faint shiver ran down Wanda’s spine. Bucky stopped, though, visibly disconcerted.

“What the hell is this place,” he said.

“Does it matter?” Sam asked. “We’re not exactly going anywhere else. All right, I’ve got it. Twenty questions, yes or no answers only.”

“I am Groot?” said Groot. Sam eyed him.

“I’m not going to take that off the count,” he said.

“Is it alive?” T’Challa asked.

“Yep,” Sam said.

“Guess that rules us out,” Bucky said. Sam snorted, and T’Challa cracked a small smile. Wanda stared down at a small, triangular rock in front of her feet.

“All right,” Bucky said. “Is it an animal?”

“Yes. Two questions down. Wanda?”

She bent down and picked up the rock. It left red dust on her fingers, and when she pressed her fingers together it crumbled like chalk. She half expected the dust to vanish, but the red stain on her fingertips stayed.

“Wanda?” Sam said, more gently.

“Sorry,” she said. “Is it a person?”

“Nope,” Sam said. “That’s three.”

She wiped her hand off on her clothes. This place wasn’t right - she could feel it in her bones, deep down where her magic ought to be. But nothing had been right in the last few days. Very few things in Wanda’s life had been right. Why should her death be any different?

It only seemed unfair that the others should be here, too.

They sky did not change, but they stopped walking eventually - less because any of them were actually tired than because it seemed like they should. Or maybe because they were tired of walking and wanted some change, even if there was very little change to be had. The road went on. The landscape didn’t alter.

And no one else appeared.

“It can’t just be us,” Sam said. “Other people died. Where are they?”

Nobody had an answer for him, unless the tree’s “I am Groot” was an answer none of them could understand. Wanda thought it might be something to do with the fact that they’d all died when Thanos had snapped his fingers, but she stayed quiet, staring off at the horizon and only half listening to Bucky and Sam going back and forth at each other.

“I see something,” T’Challa said abruptly. They all turned and followed the line of his arm.

“I can’t see anything,” Sam said.

“Give it a sec,” Bucky said. “He’s probably got a hundred extra yards visibility on me. Maybe 150 on you–”

“I am Groot,” Groot said. Wanda strained her eyes, some part of her wishing - hoping–

“Is that a dog?” Sam said.

A moment later Wanda saw it too, and slumped. It did look like a dog padding towards them - or at least, it certainly wasn’t a person.

“That’s not a dog,” T’Challa said.

“Fox, I think,” Bucky said. “What the fuck is a fox doing here?”

“I don’t think it’s a fox, either,” T’Challa said. He shifted, like he was thinking about getting into a fighting stance. Wanda stepped forward, reaching for her powers, but nothing was there.

What would be the point, anyway? You can only die once.

The fox - and it was a fox, Wanda could see that now, though black instead of red - slowed as it began to draw closer. It sat down, still a ways away, and cocked its head, looking at them.

“This is weird,” Sam said. T’Challa was still frowning.

“What is it?” Bucky asked him. T’Challa shook his head.

“I’m not certain.”

The fox stood, stretched, and changed, unfolding into a person. Wanda sucked in a breath, staring at the man now walking toward them: dark-haired, pale, lean and taller than Bucky or T’Challa. A vague sense of familiarity nagged at her, but she couldn’t say from where.

The man stopped, still several paces from them, and cocked his head just as the fox had. “Well,” he said, a faint rasp in his voice. “This is new.”

Wanda stared at him, trying to remember where she recognized him from. “New?”

“Yes,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else. But then, this time is different.”

“Wait,” Sam said abruptly. “Shit. Are you-”

“Mm,” he said, still looking at Wanda. T��Challa’s eyes were narrowed, too, and Sam’s. Bucky looked blankly at them both.

“What?”

“It’s always nice to be recognized,” the stranger said dryly.

“Loki,” Sam said. “That’s fucking Loki. Right?” Wanda’s eyes widened, but he - Loki - just shrugged one shoulder.

“So I am. Or was. I’m not certain of the appropriate tense.” His gaze swept across them, indifferent, disinterested.

“You’re dead, too,” Wanda said. Loki glanced at her, eyes focusing briefly before they slid back into dullness. No, exhaustion.

“Or something,” he said.

“‘Or something?’” Sam said. Loki’s eyes flicked in his direction.

“This doesn’t feel like death,” he said, “but I remember the feeling of my neck breaking in Thanos’s hand fairly clearly, so…” Wanda flinched, and she thought she saw Sam’s eye twitch. She remembered Thor coming roaring down from the sky, thunder and lightning in his voice, and understood. She looked down.

“What do you mean that this doesn’t feel like death,” T’Challa said into the silence.

“I know a little of what death tastes like,” Loki said after a moment. “This isn’t it.”

“What does that mean,” Bucky said, looking agitated and uncertain.

“I am Groot,” said Groot, and Loki glanced at him, something briefly flashing across his expression before it was gone. Pain, Wanda thought.

“Not entirely accurate,” he said, “but not entirely inaccurate, either.” There was a brief pause.

“You can understand him?” Bucky said. Loki shrugged again. “What did he say?”

“It’s irrelevant.” Loki’s eyes moved back to Wanda. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that you were simply the high cost of victory?” Wanda looked down, somehow feeling ashamed of her failure. Loki let out a quiet huff. “Pity.”

Bucky, oddly, snorted.

“Thanos gained all of the Infinity Stones,” T’Challa said. “Then…” He trailed off. “I am not entirely certain what happened then.”

Loki made a sort of hm noise, glancing at T’Challa sidelong. “So you didn’t die in battle,” he said.

“If so, I do not remember it,” T’Challa said.

“I am Groot,” Groot said to Loki, whose head swiveled violently toward him, eyes sharpening.

“Gamora,” he said, and there was a wealth of hatred and fear in that word. “You are a companion of hers?”

“I am Groot,” Groot said emphatically, and Loki blinked, then pressed his lips together and exhaled in a short burst.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

“Can you maybe translate what he’s saying,” Bucky said irritably. “Since all the rest of us can hear is the same three words over and over.”

“He says that Gamora claimed Thanos meant to use the completed Gauntlet to halve all life in the universe,” Loki said. “If you know that he achieved his goal, then presumably you were part of the unlucky half. Though that does not explain why you are here. Or else does not explain why I am.”

“And who’s Gamora,” Sam said, with such exaggerated patience that it demonstrated anything but.

“An old acquaintance,” Loki said. He sounded distracted.

“I am Groot,” Groot said, and this time Wanda could hear the near pride in his voice. Loki didn’t respond. He was scanning their number again, Wanda realized, more closely.

She bit her lip, then raised her voice and said, “Thor’s alive.” His gaze snapped to her, and she made herself hold it though her instinct was to look down. “At least, he was when I...he drove an axe into Thanos’s chest. It didn’t work, it was too late, but…” She trailed off.

Loki glanced down, his eyes half closing, and Wanda thought she caught a brief flicker at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile, and a barely audible, “ah, Thor.” Then his eyes were back on hers and he said simply, “thank you for informing me,” with a lack of feeling that made Wanda frown.

“You haven’t asked who any of us are,” Bucky said.

“So I have not,” Loki said. “I am not certain it is precisely relevant.”

“Excuse you,” Sam said. Loki glanced at him, that tired indifference returning.

“I approached because I was curious. I wasn’t intending to stay, nor would I think you were inclined to encourage it.”

T’Challa was studying Loki with curious intensity. “Were you going somewhere?”

“No,” Loki said, and then paused and adjusted, “perhaps.”

“I am Groot?” Groot said, and Loki’s lips pressed briefly together.

“It means perhaps. And don’t be crude.”

“I’m with him,” Sam said. “What does perhaps mean?” Loki looked briefly annoyed, and Sam said, “come on. We’re all dead here. Or - not. Which still begs the question as far as I’m concerned of what we are.”

Loki’s eyes went back to her, and Wanda shifted. “What?” She asked. “Why do you keep looking at me?”

“You haven’t noticed anything strange, then?” He asked. “Felt anything?”

Too many things, Wanda thought, but she didn’t think that was what he meant, and now they were all looking at her. Wanda hesitated.

“I don’t have my powers,” she said slowly. Loki made a derisive noise.

“Of course you don’t,” he said. “Do you need them to sense what’s around you? Midgardian magicians. Norns.”

Wanda glared at him, but took a breath and tried to turn inward, like she was going to use her power. It still wasn’t there, but this time, without distractions…

She jerked and saw a satisfied glint in Loki’s eyes, just for an instant. “There,” he said.

“Wanda, what is it?” Sam asked, looking suspiciously at Loki.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But it feels like…” She searched for the right words. “Like a heartbeat,” she said finally, even if that wasn’t quite right.

Bucky’s expression was a mixture of horror and alarm. “A heartbeat?”

“So that’s what it feels like to you,” Loki said thoughtfully. He seemed more engaged now than he had been at first, and somehow even though it shouldn’t matter that felt like a good thing. Maybe because nothing else was.

“It’s not actually,” Wanda said quickly. “That’s just sort of what it feels like - to me, anyway. It’s...different for you?”

Loki shrugged. T’Challa shifted.

“I know what she means,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t have described it like that. But there is...something.”

“Interesting,” Loki said, glancing at T’Challa and looking him over with slightly more interest. “To answer your implied question, I would call it a...resonance.”

“A resonance with what,” Sam asked.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be bothering to talk to you,” Loki said. “But partly it is that which makes me think this is something other than simple death.”

“What is there other than ‘simple death,’” Bucky said tightly.

“That is the question, isn’t it,” Loki said. “Maybe nothing. Maybe I am wrong. But if I am not…”

“If you’re not, what,” Bucky said, even tighter.

“Then it begs the question of why, doesn’t it?” Loki rolled his neck in a slow circle, and Wanda could have sworn she heard something crack. “At least, such was my thought. But maybe it is just desperation.”

He didn’t sound desperate. He didn’t sound much of anything.

“Why not stay with us,” Wanda said abruptly. Everyone else turned to stare at her, Loki included, and she straightened, turning toward her friends. “I mean it,” she said. “Why not? We’re all here together. And if he’s right and there’s a why, a reason...wouldn’t it suggest that’s true for all of us, including him?” She paused, and added, “and besides - what can he do to us, anyway?”

Loki barked a laugh. “That is a fair point,” he murmured.

“How do we know this isn’t some kind of trick?” T’Challa asked, his eyes narrowed.

“You don’t,” Loki said. “But I will say that you vastly overestimate my interest in you. Well, the majority of you. And your witch has a point: what is it you think I will do?”

“I don’t know,” T’Challa said. “That’s what worries me.”

“And ‘our witch’ has a name,” Sam said a little sourly.

Loki shrugged. “As you will. It makes little difference to me.” He moved around them and started to walk away.

“I am Groot,” Groot muttered, and strode after him, long tree-legs catching up in a few strides. “I am Groot?” He said to Loki, who checked himself and looked at him, his face tightening.

“Was, yes,” he said. “Why?”

“I am Groot,” Groot said definitively, and Loki shook his head.

“Call back your child,” he said, with a sharp gesture at Groot.

“Child?” Sam said, eyebrows shooting up.

“He’s an adolescent Flora Colossus,” Loki said, as though it were obvious. “And he is not following me. I don’t care who you were friends with.”

Thor, Wanda thought. Groot didn’t know any of them, but he’d known Thor, at least a little, and Loki was Thor’s brother, and Groot was, apparently, a teenager, among strangers who couldn’t understand him, who had just died.

Wanda’s chest ached. “If he wants to,” she said, “I don’t see why he shouldn’t.”

“I’m not interested in playing nursemaid–”

“I am Groot,” Groot said, and Loki gave him a hard look.

“No, you are not,” he said. “I’ve met grown Flora Colossi and you aren’t it. You’re barely more than a sapling. Maybe - what, four years old?”

“You know what,” Bucky said, “I’m with Wanda, actually. And the, uh...Groot. This place is weird. I think we should stick together, and it seems like he knows more about this place than any of the rest of us do.” His eyes settled on Loki. “And it’s not like we have a whole lot to lose, right now.”

Sam gave Bucky a long, skeptical look and then glanced at T’Challa, who shrugged.

“You assume I am interested in putting up with the lot of you,” Loki said flatly. He looked tense, Wanda thought. Like he was expecting some kind of trap. Wanda tried to summon a smile.

“You said you came over because you were curious,” she said. “And if you’re right, and there is some reason we’re all here...isn’t that something else to be curious about?”

“I am Groot,” said Groot, and Loki glanced at him, jaw twitching.

“I’m dead, you twig,” he said. “If not now, then probably soon. And if I did need protecting, you wouldn’t be much help.”

Bucky snorted, poorly muffled. Wanda bit her lip so she didn’t smile. Groot’s expression was hard for her to read, but it looked to her eyes like a glare.

Loki exhaled loudly and looked away. “Fine,” he said. “If you are inclined...I suppose there’s no harm in traveling adjacently.”

“Traveling where?” Sam asked. “You make it sound like you have an actual destination.”

“I have a...feeling,” Loki said, though something about the brief pause before he spoke made Wanda think there was something he wasn’t saying. The question was if it was important or not. “No more than that.”

“Well,” T’Challa said after a few moments of hesitation, “that is more than I have, at the moment. And so far as I know we weren’t going anywhere in particular, so…”

“I guess that settles it,” Wanda said. Loki eyed her like he suspected her of having some ulterior motive. She decided to pretend not to notice. “So which way are we going?”

#anonymous #conversating #fic excerpt #i know this is an unsatisfying answer! i know it!#i just don't have a better one #this does remind me i should write up an actual faq at some point maybe

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yukidragon · 4 years ago

Text

Our Life, but as Dark Fantasy

Okay, so, Our Life: Beginnings & Always by @gb-patch is probably the softest story I’ve ever fallen in love with. (And I will always scream from the rooftops that people should play it because I love it so much and it’s free to boot!) It’s slice of life and low stakes and the focus is entirely on the characters living life together and their relationships.

Despite this and enjoying working on my personal sorta novelization and adding in new scenes that fit the mood and add more excuses for fluff... suddenly a light banter scene from one of the parts of the game spiraled out of control into a plot thread of a dark angsty canon divergence with fantasy elements.

Like, I have no intention of writing a full blown story about it or anything. (Not like I’m doing for my preferred route through the game at least.) But, dang it, my passion for this game can’t be contained, and it’s running away with me. Plus, hey, why not grant Cove his deepest wish to finally meet a mermaid?

In other words, I took a fun and fluffy scene from the game and threw in an ominous note of foreshadowing to it at the end, which then blew up into its own post-game scene. Am I going to show it? What the heck, sure. Here’s the scene under a cut. Maybe someone else will enjoy it too.

Disclaimer - my version of Jamie might not match yours, and this is written in third person, so if you’d rather not read about that kind of fan content for Our Life, play the game instead. The writing will be rougher than what gets posted on @dragonandtiger, as this is first draft fooling around. Also, spoilers for Step 3.

...

Cove pretended to sigh as he hung his head. “Maybe it’s for the best.” He peeked through strands of his hair at Jamie as he tried his best to keep a straight face. “Let’s say a merperson did happen to wash up on shore one day…”

He let the suggestion hang in the air for a moment as he turned to Jamie, wearing a faux doleful expression that did nothing to hide the smile in his eyes. “I could’ve lost my girlfriend to their magical underwater world.”

Jamie failed to stifle a chuckle, which quirked the corners of Cove's mouth upwards in response. "Sure, I'd go with the merperson," she teased, "but only if you could come with us too."

Cove didn’t try to hide his grin this time, his eyes lighting up with delighted surprise at the unexpected answer. “You’re a nice person, Jamie,” he said sincerely before he got back into character. He arched an exaggerated eyebrow, doing his best to display serious skepticism. “But what if they didn’t want me? Would you seriously stay on land?”

Jamie placed her hands on her hips and gave him a pointed look. Despite the ridiculousness of the conversation, she wasn’t about to joke on this point. There was nothing in this world that would make her choose to leave Cove behind - not even for some hypothetical mysterious other world full of magic and adventure. Though she offered no words in response, she grabbed onto his arm and clung to it with excessive possessiveness.

Despite the hint of actual seriousness that had crept into the playful debate, Cove couldn’t help but nearly chuckle when Jamie latched onto him, her silent message coming across loud and clear. He couldn’t help but smile softly and think of just how cute his girlfriend could be when she was, as he liked to call it, stubbornly affectionate.

Still, despite the moment of fondness, he wasn’t about to let the joke drop just yet. “If a beautiful, kind merperson falls for somebody, I’m pretty positive the sensible response isn't to turn around and say, ‘No thanks, I’m gonna stay on land with a normal guy.’”

“I don’t want that,” Jamie huffed. She puffed out her cheeks in an exaggerated pout, and Cove couldn't stop himself from chuckling a bit at the sight. She broke character to smile triumphantly at that, before she suddenly straightened up, her eyes lighting up with a brilliant idea. “I should get to be the mercreature, and then I’d invite you to the underwater world.”

“What?!” Cove blurted out, caught completely off guard by the suggestion. He stared at Jamie with wide eyes, his mind immediately already picturing the possibilities of what she might look like as a mermaid. It wasn’t too hard to visualize considering she was already wearing a swimsuit, and the image turned his cheeks pink with heat.

“That's…,” he began, only to falter for a moment. “You… as a mermaid…” He had to take a moment to again picture it, his mouth hanging open just a little in wonder. “That’s… I mean…”

When the idea finally finished crystalizing in his head, Cove couldn’t help but feel thrilled by it. “Yeah,” he said with a brilliant smile. “It’s a good idea.”

Jamie smiled, pleased to have had such a profound effect on her boyfriend. She adjusted her hold so that she held his hand in both of hers. “I’m glad you think so,” she said before her voice grew tender. Her dark blue eyes glittered with adoration as she peered deeply into his eyes of bright aquamarine. “Would you come with me?”

“I…” Cove faltered, staring at Jamie with wide eyes as his pulse quickened. Her gaze was electric, turning into nervous energy inside him that couldn’t be contained. Although he hesitated to remove the hand she held so tenderly, he fumbled with his free hand for something to fidget with and found the sunscreen bottle he had dropped earlier. He flicked at the cap, snapping it on and off again in an erratic rhythm.

After a moment, Cove closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he tried to compose himself. “Of course I would,” he finally answered. He tried to keep sounding playful, but the words came out soft with his sincerity. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Jamie was beaming, her smile as brilliant as sunshine.

“Thanks, Cove,” she said as she laced their fingers together. “I’d be a happy merfolk.”

Cove returned the gesture, squeezing Jamie's hand as little giggles escaped him. While the whole conversation had been intended as a lark, he couldn't help but feel deliriously happy by the little fantasy they had crafted together.

Jamie leaned in closer to her boyfriend, pleased by how much of an impact her words had on Cove. She couldn't help but imagine the scenario like he was at that moment. It would be such a lovely story.

Or at least, it would have been if it only remained nothing more than a fantasy.

Jamie was swimming like her life depended on it. Limbs thrashing through the water, propelling her closer and closer to the shore. She fixated on nothing else but making it back to Sunset Bird and…

“Cove!”

…

Cove Holden was a wreck. It had been two weeks since Jamie had disappeared, and the police had nothing to offer him but empty promises that they were trying their best to find his girlfriend.

He tried to hold out hope and remain patient, but the longer Jamie was gone, the more he could feel himself breaking down. He had the support of those who cared for him, but it wasn’t enough to hold back the despair that grew just a little deeper each day that she remained missing.

Despite the fact that Cove and Jamie had moved out of their childhood homes not that long ago, he was now spending nearly every day at the Leimomi house like he did during his childhood. Only, instead of going there to visit Jamie, it was to help her moms get through this crisis - it was the closest he could come to feeling like he was actually doing something more than just waiting in agony.

Cove also took to wandering through the old neighborhood more. He knew it was irrational to expect to find Jamie in the places they hang out throughout their childhood, especially when he, her family, and the police already thoroughly checked the areas. Despite this, he found himself at the top of poppy hill.

It wasn’t long ago that Cove and Jamie were both running down the hill, laughing and playing together like children as they raced ahead towards their future. The moment had been so peaceful, so wonderful. He remembered wondering what he would feel when he thought back to that day.

He had his answer now - an overwhelmingly painful longing.

The poppies were gone, just like Jamie. The hill was just as green as it always was, even in late fall; the ocean was just as blue as it beckoned to him not far away. Yet, to Cove, poppy hill felt desolate.

Cove had intended to leave by sunset, but he had been lost inside his head until he noticed the moon hanging in the sky. Despite the obvious reminder that he needed to go home, that he had work in the morning, he found himself lingering still. A part of him dreaded returning to an empty apartment and a bed meant for two by himself.

Looking at the moon and the ocean reflecting it along with the stars above, Cove was reminded of the first time he met Jamie. The sight of the horizon was the same as back then, but the heartache he felt then was nothing compared to the hell he was going through now.

Cove didn’t bother fighting the tears that spilled from his eyes, as he wished desperately for a miracle. “Jamie…”

Only the sound of the waves answered Cove. He closed his eyes listening; he could almost swear he heard Jamie’s voice answer him from somewhere far away, calling his name.

Then his eyes snapped open wide as Cove realized he wasn’t just imagining it.

Cove was off like a shot, running for the oh so very faint sound of Jamie’s voice. He shouted her name, and he heard his in return as he raced down the hill towards the shore. Once he reached the sand, he scanned the empty beach for signs of life, for the barest glimpse of blue hair and even darker blue eyes.

Movement on the waves drew Cove’s eye back to the ocean. Someone was swimming towards the beach, stretching a pale hand towards the sky in a frantic wave for attention as they surfaced.

“Cove!”

Cove kicked his shoes off before reaching the water, diving in without hesitation. The choppy waves fought him, but he cut through each one with the experience of a lifetime of swimming in the ocean brought him.

“Jamie!” Cove shouted so that Jamie would know he was coming for her. In the dim light of the moon and starry sky, Jamie kept disappearing among the waves, the blue color of her long hair serving to blend in with the dark water.

But Jamie answered in a voice aching with relief, and he knew she had heard him. “Cove!”

When Jamie reached out her hand again, this time Cove was close enough to grab it. He seized her body close and for a moment there was nothing the two of them could do but hold each other, salt water and tears mingling together as their shuddering bodies pressed close while buffered by a turbulent sea.

It was a moment of relief so exquisite that it was almost painful.

Unfortunately, the moment couldn’t last long. The water was too rough to remain there, so Cove shifted his hold on Jamie, hooking her right arm around his shoulders and guided her weary body back to shore. It wasn’t until his feet touched back down on the sand that he realized Jamie wasn’t doing the same, instead heavily leaning against him like a dead weight.

“Cove,” Jamie whispered, her voice hoarse from yelling and heavy with exhaustion. She reached out to him with her left hand, and the sound of metal clinking accompanied it. To Cove’s horror, he saw a shackle on her wrist, still dangling links of a broken chain. “Sorry… I need you… to carry me…”

Cove turned to Jamie, panic rising as questions rushed to his lips, when he finally got his first good look at her. He froze, his mouth flagging open as his eyes went wide and round as the moon.

Jamie’s legs were gone - in their place was a large fishtail covered in shimmering blue scales.

#Our Life Beginnings & Always #ourlifeba #Our Life #Cove Holden #Jamie Last #or rather #Jamie Leimomi #My Writing #yes I gave my version of Jamie a distinct last name #the developers sounded keen for players to at least give Jamie unique last names #so I just went for it #I should probably give a tag to this au for my personal tumblr #since I suspect this won't be the only blurb I throw up here #Mermaid Jamie

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