#just as like... a warm up for writing chapter two of the descent | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spacemagicandlaserswords · 2 years ago

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Open and Waiting (Chapter 3)

Summary: Tech is an Intelligent Dom in more ways than one, Hunter decides he’s had enough casual voyeurism for one day, and you continue to be a good little cockwarmer while remembering that time Crosshair spanked you.

Relationship: Tech x f!reader, a little bit of Hunter x f!reader, mentions of Crosshair x f!reader, Echo x f!reader and Wrecker x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, cock warming, voyeurism, domination, submission, Dominant Tech, submissive reader, restraints, collar, wrist cuffs, sexual inexperience, inexperienced reader, naked reader, voyeurism, poor self-worth, spiralling thoughts, feelings, smut with feelings, polyamory, little bit of verbal degradation, praise kink, pretend sci-fi technology/science, pretend Star Wars planets and locations, not beta read, no use of y/n. Mentions of: Oral training, dildos, soft domination, finger sucking, fingers in mouth, spanking, impact play, humiliation, degradation, boot licking, penetration, after care, bruises, vaginal fingering, bacta as lube, video recording of sexual acts.

Word Count: 1714 (Chapter 3)

Author’s Notes: Please read the warnings! And please let me know if you enjoyed it. Behold, more filth.

I also wanted to make it clear that everything depicted in this fic is consensual and has been enthusiastically consented to by everyone involved. A lot of what is in this fic could be seen as quite intense, depending on your levels or limits *looks at the giant wall of warnings*. Please know that everyone involved is actively participating in safe kink practices and many open, honest and clear conversations are had between everyone, even if it is not explicitly described in the fic. If it helps, I have a background context detail for this AU that Tech maintains an up to date list of everyone's hard limits, interests and requests, and makes sure everyone's kink contracts are revisited every month and updated if required. None of the Batch tease him for it because they all take safe kink practices very seriously. I hope this comes across in the writing, both in previous and future chapters, but I also wanted to be clear about it here as well.

Chapters: One, Two, Four, Five, Six | Ao3

Open and Waiting (Chapter 3)

A hand immediately descends on my head, preventing any hint of movement and halting any further thoughts of trying to take more of Tech’s cock deeper into my mouth. There’s a weight to his hand, a solid presence and a warning. He knew exactly what I’d been trying to do. Sir had been unequivocally clear that I was not allowed to move and I’d just skirted very close to breaking that rule.

Oh kark, I’ve displeased him. I can’t bear disappointing him and the punishment that follows is always Tech’s own special combination of humiliation, control and mental domination. He knows exactly how to slowly and painstakingly unravel me, all while ensuring that I’m the one begging for my descent into delirium. It always leaves me ruinously shattered and I really just wanted to be a good girl and warm his cock for him. I was doing so well. Why do I always try to bite off more than I can chew? Both metaphorically and literally, in this case. Though I am absolutely not moving anything now, especially not my jaw or mouth. Why did I have to try and push it further and do more? Tech explicitly told me not to move. I’m already pleasing him, why did I have to try and go further? It’s not like I—

Tech’s precise voice cuts through my spiralling thoughts.

“Our submissive has been doing exceptionally well with their oral training and has been diligent and dedicated in their practice. She has shown consistent and admirable improvement in the length and depth that she is able to be orally penetrated. I am quite pleased with her progress and have no doubt she will turn into an excellent cock slut in time and with continued guidance."

The praise hits me deep in the chest, flaring out to run down my arms and I can’t stop myself from preening at his words. Tech knew. Of course he knew. He’s far too intelligent not to notice when my brain starts running away from me.

“Hmmm, she’s pretty good already.” Hunter adds. “And watching her suck away at those training dildos that can be mounted to the walls is always a good watch.”

“Yes. Those were an excellent invention of mine.” Tech confidently replies.

“Do you think you’d be able to install a hidden or quick release one on the side of a chair in the cockpit?” asks Hunter. “I prefer to keep her at my knee and it’s easier to control her movement when she’s close by.”

Another shiver runs over my naked skin at the thought. I do enjoy serving at Hunter’s knee. It’s a remarkably peaceful and calming experience. One that has nearly caused me to fall asleep on more than a few occasions. We usually do it when he takes watch. Sitting at his feet, my body leaning against his leg and my head resting against the side of his knee, the blue lights of hyperspace dancing behind my eyelids. Hunter usually keeps me in place with a single hand on my head or wrapped around the nape of my neck. Sometimes I’ll end up sucking on his fingers. Other times he’ll gently run the pad of his thumb or fingers up and down my tongue and I end up drooling on his armour or the floor. I often worry about making a mess but he always reassures me that it doesn’t bother him at all. If anything, it’s actually a good thing. Apparently, all the sensations help to ground him. Having one particular impression to focus on helps to reduce the rest of his senses to background noise. If that’s what it takes to lessen the constant barrage of feedback on his enhanced senses and afford him a moment of relative peace then I will happily have my tongue used as a resting pad for his thumb or fingers.

Just like it’s currently being used as a resting place for Tech’s cock.

The owner of said cock provides a clipped response to Hunter’s question.

“Of course I can. I already have plans for such a modification. Would you prefer the pilot’s or co-pilot's chair?”

“Pilot’s.” answers Hunter. “It’s your invention. Besides, Echo might be a bit peeved if he walks into the cockpit one day to find a dildo attached to the armrest of his chair.”

“An amusing discovery, I’m sure.” Tech replies, his dry wit in full force.

The conversation continues on above me, both of them completely ignoring my bound and open position on the floor. It’s like I��m not even here. They could be having the same conversation over caf or while Tech is torso deep in the guts of the Marauder fixing the latest thing to go wrong with the ship. His legs always end up splayed wide apart when he’s working like that. If I wasn’t so desperate to please and had just a little bit of brat in me, I’d probably eventually snap and go down on him then and there.

“Nah it’s a fair way off. The towns here are fairly isolated and spread out.”

Hunter’s smokey voice interrupts my rapidly degenerating fantasies about blowing Tech in all sorts of compromising positions. I guess they’ve moved on from talking about me like I’m not even there, despite the fact that I’m right here on my knees under the workbench.

“The others are going to be on their supply run for a while.” Hunter adds.

“Yes. I estimate that they will be away for another 3 hours and 16 minutes.” Tech responds.

“Do you need anything from me before I go back to arguing with this schematic of that Seppie base?” asks Hunter.

“Some peace and quiet would be appreciated. Unless you wish to watch?” Tech’s suggestion hanging in the air.

“Nah, she’s all yours. I’ve got my own ideas for when I get her next. Besides, her arousal’s so strong I can basically taste it.” Hunter comments.

The verbal debasement makes my pussy drip and my mouth somehow even wetter.

“Do not let me keep you from your work.” Tech replies, a clear dismissal and indication that this conversation is over.

Hunter just snorts in response and turns on his heel before heading back to the bow of the ship. The cockpit door closes and then it’s just Tech and I again in the still silence. The only interruption is the movement and scraping of tools above me as Tech dedicates his full focus to the project in front of him.

Well, maybe not his full, complete focus.

Tech’s other leg has started bouncing. I can feel the small movements through his thigh where my cheek is currently resting. He always does this when there’s something competing for the attention of his prodigious intellect. The warm, wet presence of my mouth wrapping around his cock must be doing a fairly decent job of distracting him. I wonder how much longer this is going to last? Probably not 3 hours and 16 minutes, unless Tech feels like adding more voyeurism to today's antics. Crosshair always enjoys getting a good eyeful when he can. An amusing attribute for someone who can be a tad possessive when he gets me to himself. I would rib him about it but teasing Crosshair is like playing with fire while doused in petrol and carrying lit matches. That man knows exactly how to cause and wield pain. His sadistic streak is as glaringly obvious as his facial tattoo. Our sessions together are often fairly intense and are a clear reminder of his predilection towards inflicting pain and the satisfaction he gains from watching me disintegrate under his hands. I’d rather not give him even more ammunition, especially after overhearing a brief snippet of a conversation he had with Tech about an idea for an implement that involved spikes.

A shudder runs through me at the thought and I can almost feel the phantom stings across my hide from when our sniper flayed my ass last time. It had been a phenomenal experience, pain and pleasure intertwining into a heady mix of sensation that was impossible to discern where one finished and the other began. Hunter and Echo had watched as Crosshair completely broke me apart, fierce slaps followed by biting strokes of his cane striking again and again over my ass. There is nothing quite so exquisitely humiliating as being reduced to a sobbing and quaking puddle on the floor and then being forced to lick the boot of your current dominant. Of course, he had to take it up a notch by pulling my head up by my hair so I was forced to look straight at the leadership team of my own squad as they observed my pathetic attempts at following Crosshair’s commands.

It’s a little hard to clean leather with your tongue when you keep crying on it.

By the time Crosshair was fucking me into the floor, I don’t think I was cogent or present enough to do anything other than lie there and just take it. I hadn’t been quite so physically, mentally and emotionally broken by a scene like that for a while. Thank the Maker they all know exactly what they’re doing when it comes to after care. It had taken me a long time to come back to the world after that, those long limbs wrapped around me like a shield, quiet affirmations murmured in my ear. For someone so outwardly caustic, Crosshair can be remarkably soft when he is so inclined. The bruises he left were an astounding array of blues, purples and blacks. I could barely move properly afterwards and sitting was an exceptionally slow and ginger process. A later application of bacta gel helped but that had quickly devolved into being fingered with bacta gel while bent over the medbay bed. Tech had made some comment about this not being it’s intended use when he walked in halfway through but by that stage Crosshair had two long fingers deep inside me and was running rings around my clit and I did not care. At least it gave Tech another recording of me climaxing to add to his collection. Apparently, I am a “most cooperative subject”.

Crosshair had actually laughed at that.

–––

Author’s Note: Please let me know if you enjoyed it!

I’ve realised that I appear to be writing this mainly in first person from the perspective of the reader, and in present tense, apart from the memories sections (not sure they really count as proper flashbacks). I know the summaries make use of ‘you’ and so appears to be in second person but I think the majority of this is in first person, or at least I’m trying to keep it as consistent as possible. It’s probably all over the shop though so the ‘not beta read’ warning definitely applies here.

Reader is not named and is referred to as she/they, you/you’re (when spoken to), submissive or their (the Batch’s) submissive, various derogatory terms (slut, whore etc.), and other more general affectionate terms (darling, dear etc.) and Mando’a endearments (mesh’la, cyar'ika etc.). The latter of these mainly appear in the aftercare scene, which is still so far away at this point. Why have I done this to myself? Write fanfic, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. *sobs* The reader is referred to in a generally objectifying manner, like something that the Batch owns without being explicitly possessive about it, and there is absolutely no use of y/n (guess which fanfic writing trope I can’t stand).

Tech finally starts to play with you in Chapter 4 and the filthiness factor ratchets up again (somehow).

Taglist: @queenariesofnarnia @skywlker-sluvtt @techs-assistant @dangraccoon @iamburdened @pheesupremacy @blondie-bluue @motte-the-goblin

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starwritesstuff · 2 years ago

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i would do anything for you to love me like i'm an american hero

(Chap 1)

yeah yeah yeah this is a rainbow kitten surprise song title i can't help myself- i did draw quite a bit of inspo from this song anyhooooozzllessss i put this on ao3 but i figure since i be writing stuff here too i'll post it here.

summary: You hold your hand out and introduce yourself. “Figured I should at least give you my name since I make it a point to bother you every time I see you here.” He takes it, grip warm, firm. “I’m Leon Kennedy.” Gives you a crooked grin. “And you’re not a bother.” Oh? You weren’t, huh? ---- You're pathetic and in love with your best friend. How do you love a ghost?

word count: 3,127

rating: this chapter is g rated buuuttt there is eventual smut so i cannot recommend minors reading this fic- also pls brace yourselves for a lotta angst i'm rly gonna PUT THEM THROUGH A BLENDER (insert me rubbing my hands together like some kinda Machiavellian freak)

The first time you meet Leon it’s in a cafe. He’d bumped into you in line. Leon muttered a sheepish apology and you thought it had been downright adorable.

You’d flirted shamelessly with him- how could you not? With looks like that, the near innocent way he had said sorry. He’d just stood there, a bit awkward, and you’d thought- god what a cutie.

After that you had started to see him a lot more frequently at that cafe and, well, you hadn’t been a regular. But you became one since that first interaction.

It’s not for another month that you get the courage to do more than make flirtatious comments- though he’s always a good sport about those.

“Anyone ever told you you’re kind of an awkward guy?” You ask him, sipping on your hot latte. Eyeing him. He startles, turning a very blue gaze your way.

“Ah, yeah.” He laughs, a dry thing, and rubs the back of his neck. “Might have been once or twice.” Oh could he get any more sweet? He reminds you of a puppy.

You hold your hand out and introduce yourself. “Figured I should at least give you my name since I make it a point to bother you every time I see you here.”

He takes it, grip warm, firm. “I’m Leon Kennedy.” Gives you a crooked grin. “And you’re not a bother.” Oh? You weren’t, huh?

The two of you are standing in the lobby, someone shuffling past you to get to the line. Right. You’re in the way.

You turn back to Leon, grinning. “Do you want to come sit with me? Save me from boring reports?” You watch a flush settle along the back of his neck, crawling up to turn the tips of his ears red. You’re so in trouble.

Leon returns your grin with teeth that are slightly crooked. Furthering your deep descent into your crush.

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

If you paced any more you’d likely wear a tread into the carpet.

It had been months, you think, since you heard from Leon. More since you last saw him.You knew he had an unorthodox job. Something dangerous. Leon always returned a little more banged than when he left.

You didn’t expect Leon, who was more or less a sweet, bashful guy, to have a job like that. But he always, always managed to make contact when he was gone. Whatever had happened you just hoped, wished, prayed to what deity would listen that he was okay. That he wasn’t dead. That he’d come back, even if he was banged up.

You force yourself to quit your relentless back and forth. Tea. You wanted- needed some tea. That honey chamomile you’d gotten last week at the store. You had some clover honey pops to go with it, if you could find them. You tap your fingers impatiently on the stove handle, waiting for the kettle to boil. When it does, you ignore the shakiness of your hands as you pour it over two bags. You like your tea strong.

Walking over to your couch, collapse. Curse loudly when you slosh some of that hot tea fresh off the stove on your fingers. You stick your pointer and middle finger in your mouth, wincing at the stinging pain. Gotta turn something on the TV, distract yourself. You settle on The Great British Bake Off. Stupid stuff, but you liked the friendly competition. And you got to see some pretty neat creations.

You settle into the couch, worn and comfy from years of use, like most of the things in your home. What can you say, you liked homey, comfy things. You draw the fuzzy blanket draped over the couch to you. Wrap yourself up. Sip your tea. And watch Paul Hollywood stare with his weird blue eyes.

It’s actually doing a great job of taking your mind off of Leon. British accents and pastries have that effect, you think. The heat kicks on and you take your sweater off, leaving you in your thin camisole. Too hot for blankets, sweaters, and the heat on. You pillow your head on the arm of the couch.

You don’t know what wakes you. But the hairs on the back of your neck prickle and you have this awful feeling of being watched. Your living room was dark, your TV having gone into that energy saving mode it does when it’s on too long. You stay very still, heart pounding. There’s a creak and you know someone is there.

Could be one of two things because honestly, the only person that could access your home was Leon. Or, conversely, a burglar. Murderer. Whatever.

“Leon?” That seems the most obvious choice. You slowly sit up, rubbing gritty sleep from your eyes.

“Yeah.” Comes his husky reply.

“Christ. What time is it?”

“Just after one in the morning.” Soft light floods the room; he’s turned on one of your floor lamps. You shove a hand through your hair. You slept all of four hours probably. Your mouth is fuzzy and you run your tongue over them. Tastes nasty, too. You must’ve fallen asleep with your mouth open. You hate doing that.

He comes over, to sit by you on the couch and god he does not look good. He’s got a cut over the bridge of his nose, deep purple coloring under his eyes and his straight brows are hung low, scrunching over his nose.

“So” you start. Stop. Take a drink of cold tea to wet your throat. This was awkward. Your locks had been changed. Did he pick them?

He isn’t looking at you, rather he’s looking at the floor. His hands hang loosely between his knees, elbows planted on his thighs. Leon looks exhausted. You had meant to rage at him a little when you saw him next. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do that right now. Not when he looks like this.

“Long trip?” You settle on. Leaning back under your blanket, cradling that cold cup of tea in your hands. Just for something to do.

“Something like that”, he grunts. Opens his mouth, then closes it again. He shakes his head and for a wild moment you’re reminded of a dog shaking its floppy ears. You say nothing, turn your attention back to your tea. It’s tense. You rub your finger along the rim of the cup.

“I suppose I owe you an apology.” Leon’s squinting at you now. He looks unsure, like maybe you have the answers. You shrug instead. Your shoulders get stuck up by your ears though, hunching. You force them down.

“If you want.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Leon’s eyes slide over to you. He doesn’t seem familiar to you right now. There’s no boyish light in his eyes, no silly puppy look to his features. He moves with a deliberate slowness, nothing like the eagerness you’re used to. Something’s happened, you know it has.

You clear your throat.

“If you want me to leave, I can go.” Startled you look at him. “No. No, I was just… thinking about if you’d picked my lock.” It was only half of a lie, anyway.

Leon snorts. “Should consider locking the deadbolt. It’s there for a reason.” Ah, right. The deadbolt. You never use. You guess locks on a door handle are probably much easier to get through than a deadbolt.

“Look, I know it’s been awhile.” Leon says, shoving his elbows off his thighs and letting out a long breath. You fidget with your cup some more. “It has.”

You really have no right to feel this way. The two of you are… Best friends. Close, but not close in the ways to warrant this irrational anger you have. You feel almost abandoned. You cringe inwardly at the feeling. Abandoned. Yeah, what are you, some rescue animal dropped off at the shelter?

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Leon’s jaw clench, the muscle fluttering under sallow skin.

You shift under your blanket, eyes bleary, focusing on some faraway point in the living room that you can't really see. You grumble about needing to find your glasses. A few seconds later, Leon hands them to you. You take them, careful to not brush his fingers. You don’t look at him when you quietly murmur your thanks. You wish that he would say something, or you would just open your mouth and say what you feel. Something to relieve the tension in the room.

“I’m surprised to see you. For a while there I wasn’t sure…” You trail off. You don’t want to finish the sentence.

He cracks a smile. It looks worn at the edges, a little unsure. “I wasn’t… I didn’t know if I’d be welcome.” Your shoulders hunch again at that. He probably wouldn’t have been welcome had you known he was going to come here, if you were honest. Ah, have you mentioned you hate this? Things haven’t been weird and tense between the two of you since, well, ever.

“Aw, don’t be like that. You know you’re always welcome here.”

“Am I?”

You pick at the blanket. “Of course.” You blow a breath out, blow it up and it stirs the hair off your forehead.

You grab the TV remote, turn it on.

“I was watching The Great British Bake Off.” You say when he doesn’t reply. The two of you sit for awhile. The TV lights flickering over your faces. You don’t know about Leon, but you’re not really watching. Not really, no. You were sneaking glances at him, taking his still stiff posture. How his hands haven’t moved from his thighs. He looks poised to run, you think.

The episode ends. Starts a new one. You think maybe the not talking happening between the two of you is going to drive you crazy. But you don’t open your mouth. Don’t try to pick at this weird shell he’s created, retreated into. You probably should. He’s your best friend. You should want to try to be there for him.

You’re scared. This new version of Leon feels like he doesn’t want to be here. With you. The old Leon would be excitedly telling you about blowing shit up and shyly asking if you wanted to get coffee at that cafe. As if you’d say no, despite the many times the two of you have kept up the tradition. Now he seems to not know what to do with you. How to be here.

You rub your nose. Pull your knees up. Tuck your hair behind your ears. You know you’re fidgeting. You can’t help it. You’ve never felt this- this weird next to him. Okay, maybe weird isn’t the right word. You certainly feel strange around him, you’re not a fool, you know why. But this is a new strangeness. It’s born of an insecurity that you never thought you’d have.

“You don’t… have to stay. You know? I won’t be mad if you have, like, other places you wanna be.” You wonder if that comes out as needy as you feel. Leon turns his gaze to you, something complicated flicking through his eyes. Quick enough that you don’t quite catch it, not quick enough that you don’t notice it and wonder.

“No, no. Sorry. I’m tired.” Leon’s tone gives nothing away. But it sounds like an excuse to your ears. Does he… pity you? Feel obligated to you? To stay? You try to grin at him, like you always do, like you used to. “Sure. Sure, yeah, I imagine. Um, the guest bed is always made up. You know, just in case.” And it had been. It stayed made up since the last time you had left. Leon huffs out a near silent laugh. “Is it?”

“Yeah. You kinda made a habit of crashing here, you know. So I just… kept it. I mean, I wash the sheets and stuff.” You hurry to explain that last part. You’d taken to keeping extras of things around the house for him. Toothbrush, towel, shirts and boxers and socks. It was all very domestic, blah blah blah. Your heart clenches.

Leon shifts in his spot. Toes off his boots. You wrinkle your nose.

“Walking around in my house with your nasty boots, huh” you chide him, teasing. You get a flash of a genuine smile at that. Your heart unclenches. Just a little.

“Sorry” he says. He doesn’t sound very sorry. In fact, you’d say he sounds a little mischievous. Leon holds his boots out to you. “Wanna see how nasty they are?” You squeal, smack at them. “You’re gross, Kennedy.”

He laughs, sets them by the couch. “You’re fond of telling me.”

You raise a brow at him. "Do you have to put them there? You could, I don't know, stick them. On the shoe rack. That is literally right by my door." Leon shrugs.

“Easier to just take them off here.” He teases. But he gets up, sets the boots on the rack. Holds out his hands in a placating gesture. “See? I put them away like a good boy.” You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stifle laughter.

“You wouldn’t know how to be a good boy if it came up and slapped you in the face.” You poke at him. “You’re a menace.”

Leon levels you with a kind of look that has your giggles freezing in your throat. Just shy of indecipherable, poorly hidden heat. You hadn’t really thought about the words when they came out, just enjoying the banter with him. You quickly look away. No way were you taking any time to pick apart that look. Adjust your mental position, firmly sticking yourself in the “Leon’s closest friend” category.

“It’s getting a bite late for me,” you say, fighting to keep your voice from wavering. “I think I’m going to actually go to bed.” You think you see a flash of disappointment cross his pretty features. But he stands with you, stretching. T-shirt riding up, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of pale skin, toned. Light scars littered amongst moles.

You turn your head away, give Leon a light pat on the shoulder. “See you in the morning? Let’s go to our cafe.”

“Sure, been awhile. D’you think they remember me?”

“Hard to forget, don’t’cha think?”

Leon laughs at that. Does that thing where he awkwardly shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes. He needs a haircut, you think. It’s gotten over-long. Makes you think of a little emo boy.

“I’ll wake you when I’m up.” He was saying, jerking you out of your musings.

“No later than 8am, mister.” You warn him. Well aware that Leon was an early riser, no matter how little he slept. Leon puts a warm hand on the top of your head. “I promise, I will not wake you before 8am.” He says with mock solemnity. You suck your teeth in response, moving to knock his hand off your head. Retreat a few steps towards your room.

“Good. See that you don’t. Goodnight, Kennedy.” You call, escaping to your room. Try to calm your racing heart. Leon didn’t often initiate physical contact with you, and that was fine, really you preferred it that way. Because when he does, your brain fizzles out. Nervous system goes haywire.

You climb into bed, thoughts shifting to Leon’s earlier behavior. How tense things had been. It was the first time you felt that uncomfortable with him. The two of you were normally much more cohesive. You had a sneaking suspicion that whatever he’d come back from was different. Different from what he usually dealt with. Though, you know you likely won’t get to know. You generally weren’t privy to specifics with him.

You flip to your side, restless. Drag the covers your head, clutching a pillow close to your chest. And what was that ridiculous reaction earlier? Leon had looked… Hot? Sexy? Wanting? Your traitorous brain supplies. Surely not, not because of someone like you. Sure you flirted with him, had built a silly friendship with that flirtation as the foundation, but it didn’t mean anything. You’re, well, you. And Leon’s Leon. He was… magnetic, a little stupid, a little cheesy, but you’d been drawn to that. And he was pretty- really, you hadn’t seen a man so beautiful. All high cheekbones, full lips, delicate brows. And you weren’t convinced he didn’t use mascara or eyeliner, or something with lashes like those.

It hurt sometimes, looking at him.

You weren’t typically an insecure person. You’d even say that, sometimes, you might even be a bit big for your britches. But your friendship (you refuse to call it a relationship) with Leon left you feeling a little inadequate at times. That feeling had crawled into your sternum, made a little nest among your heart and viscera the first time he’d come back from a trip. You wished you could grab it, like it was one of those prickly things that attached themselves to your socks, and pluck it out. But it was there to stay.

You jerk the covers off your head, the space having gotten hot, humid and somewhat hard to breathe. You roll onto your back, dragging the pillow with you. You wonder what Leon was doing. Was he tossing and turning? Punching his pillow softer, to fit his head? Or had he just conked out, exhausted. Sometimes, when he stayed over, he’d get nightmares. And you’d find his silhouette in your doorway, shyly asking if he could sit with you for a bit. First time he did it you thought you might shit your pants. You had scolded him, told him to make a little noise. That waking up to him just hanging in the doorway like some kinda freaky serial killer was just terrifying. Since then, Leon had always made sure to purposely creak your creaky floorboards, to swing the door open noisily.

Not tonight, though. It was quiet. The overhead fan was the only sound you could hear. It was too quiet, one of those nights that made you wish you had a TV in your room, so you could stick something on. The silence just made your thoughts louder, screaming, ringing in your head. Knowing Leon was just in the other room, yards away, doing whatever it is he does at night, knotted your stomach. Quickened your breath. Made that thing in your chest ache.

You forcefully wrangle your melancholy thoughts into submission. It was far too late for any more of it, and you needed some semblance of sleep. You just know Leon’s going to wake you precisely at 8am, just to be difficult.

#resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil angst #mutual pining #friends to lovers #slow burn #angst with a happy ending #star's writing

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scryarchives · 1 year ago

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𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 - 𝐣𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟗

never in his life did jaime think that the first person he'd really open up to would be his neighbour, but hey, new friendships are formed.

masterlist | previous , next !

– pairings: jaime reyes x oc

– warning: fluff, canon divergent, blue beetle movie spoilers

– author’s note: i wont lie this chapter was one of the more fun ones to write and i was excited :> disclaimer: i’m not of Hispanic or Aztec descent and used a translator for certain terms, so do correct me if im wrong!

translations: dios mío - my god ni siquiera me hagas empezar - don't even get me started

Time always passed faster than you ever thought it would, seconds turning into minutes, and minutes turning into hours within the blink of an eye.

The warm and radiant sun had begun to set, lowering itself closer towards the ocean as all the land beneath it was filled with a golden glow.

Unaware of this change sat two young adults within an abandoned building, light filling in the lonesome domain, keeping the duo company regardless of the lack of electricity that passed through.

Only Jaime’s voice filled the air as the young woman across him listened intently, hanging onto every word, feeling a fraction of almost every emotion he went gone through, from the sheer panic of the scarab lurching onto his face to the excruciating pain of the scarab’s limbs digging into the bone of his spine, bonding with its host for life.

Pity and heartbreak filled her heart as the man across from her struggled to get through one of the toughest parts of his journey, and the most painful of it all.

The loss of a loved one wasn’t an easy part to handle. He wished for everything to bring him back.

Silently, she pieced the pieces together, her hand hesitantly, but gently reassuringly placed over his own, reminding him that he could keep to himself if he wasn’t ready to share.

And he truly wasn’t ready yet.

Swallowing down his grief, he continued his tale, opening himself up to her about how he learned to protect those he loved, how he learned to handle this kind of responsibility, and how he barely escaped death with a different — but the good kind of different — approach on this strange, but exciting, new chapter in his life.

It was all so tough, but he had others he could rely on; his familia, Rudy, Nana, his Mamá, even Milagro. And perhaps Jenny, although currently, he was having a little trouble communicating with the latest name on the list after her rejection.

But he faced it all, and even though he still grieved the loss of his father, he came out a stronger person, heck maybe an even more loving person, and nothing was stopping him from keeping the people he loved safe — his home — safe. After all, home is where the heart is.

So here he was, spilling his guts out to a woman he first called a stranger, a threat. But now, things changed, and she started to change into his neighbour, maybe even a friend.

“And after everything her aunt did, she still volunteered to make our neighbourhood better. She helped rebuild our house, gave Rudy a new ride, which he’s practically attached to but won’t admit out loud, and was there for us in our toughest times,” He bobbed his head up and down in thought, Drea humming as her cheek rested in her hands, elbow placed on the armrest while she crossed her legs.

A cheeky smile grew on her face, eyes turning playful at the sight of Jaime’s dazed eyes.

“Jenny, hm? Sounds like quite the keeper,” She chimed, tilting her head playfully.

“Dios mío, ni siquiera me hagas empezar,” He muttered with a dreamy smile growing on his face. “Everything about her, it’s just so… perfect! She’s extremely intelligent, kind and caring, and so, so beautiful. What else do I even have to say?”

Chuckling, Drea leaned back in her chair, suggestively raising an eyebrow.

“Ever tried telling her that? Maybe it will sweep her off her feet, who knows?”

And just like that, Jaime’s smile fell, eyes downcast as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, picking at loose threads from within. He let out a sad sigh, head leaning back as he stared at the vine-filled ceiling.

“Funny thing, it didn’t work. After everything, I thought maybe she felt the same way, but it was probably the adrenaline getting to me…”

“Jaime, I’m sorry,” Drea began, glancing at the Mexican across her in concern. “I didn’t mean to pry–“

“It’s fine, Drea, really,” He replied smoothly, tilting his head to face her. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while anyways, and it’s probably better to let it all out, y’know?”

Slowly, Drea’s look of concern faded, a calm one replacing as she felt mutual about his feelings. She leaned her head back, staring at the little orbs of light that complimented the green of the vines that clung to the cement.

“Yeah, I get that.”

The two shared a look, gentle smiles all around as Jaime let out another sigh, this time, or relief, his eyes glancing back at the ceiling. Slowly, he let the thoughts flood through, one by one pushing them aside as he realised that all of his thoughts were just… thoughts. It’s all they would ever be.

“You know, if you ever want to talk, I’m always free to help out,” Drea began gently, Jaime, suddenly feeling grateful to have a friend around.

“Thanks,” He replied, the fiddling in his pockets slowing. “I’ve got your back too, if you ever need help. So is my family.”

A soft and appreciative look appeared on the woman’s face as she hummed, “I know.”

A comfortable silence grew between them, the two friends basking in the calm, enjoying each other’s company. Until a low rumbling noise was heard, and Jaime’s eyes snapped open.

When did he last eat again?

As his stomach rumbled again, Jaime pulled his phone out in embarrassment, swiftly checking the time.

6:30 pm.

Huh… he didn’t recall time passing by so quickly.

“It’s about time we head back anyways,” The woman across him stood up, Jaime doing the same as he hurriedly shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah, it’s for the best,” He let out a breathy chuckle, hands in his pockets once more.

As he took his next step, Jaime hadn’t realised that his left foot was trapped beneath a loose vine, his weight shifting as he tried to lift his leg.

“Jaime, watch where you’re–“

His eyes widened at his sudden error, hands darting out of his pockets to help him regain his balance, but the ground seemed closer by the second, and he braced himself for impact.

But he never felt himself land on the solid concrete.

Instead, he felt a slight jerk that pulled him away from the ground as strong arms darted to catch his frame, a hand clasping the cloth of his hoodie, another around his waist as his arms flailed to his sides.

“–Going…”

Blinking up at her, Jaime felt his face flush at the proximity between them, light brown, almost amber, pools of concern staring at him as he felt himself getting lost within them.

Who knew that her eyes were so pretty? Did her hair always look this soft? Wow, under this light she looked so peaceful, so calm, and so beautiful—

“You alright?” She whispered, and the gentleness of her voice almost sent another wave of heat to his cheeks.

Being so lost in the moment, Jaime swore he was hallucinating the moment he felt a warm, soothing glow surround them. And he was certain his mind was messing with him the moment he thought he saw pink briefly dust her cheeks.

“Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m all good,” He muttered quickly, pulling his feet from beneath him as he regained his balance.

It was then that he realised their slight height difference, his heart pounding at the thought of being able to encompass her completely if they ever decided to hug. Or cuddle. Or kiss—

No! Jaime, you’re friends. You’re just hungry, and you’re thinking these thoughts because you’re lonely and you were rejected, that’s all. Don’t mess it up.

“The vines here are a little pesky now and then, but hey, a little pruning might be needed,” She giggled, and Jaime fought his thoughts once more, almost hissing out loud for them to shut up.

“Jaime, you’re staring, again. You need to answer Alejandra or she will think that you are weird.”

“Yeah,” Jaime blurted out, silently thanking Khaji for the reminder. “Uh, yeah we definitely gotta cut those. Anyway, shall we? I think I’ve left my Mamá for too long and any longer, she might file a missing person’s report. Again.”

“Again?” She narrowed her eyes with a sly grin. “That must’ve been fun.”

“Eh, not so fun when you’ve been considered missing after crashing through your childhood home and flying all over the city without a clue on how to control it,” He joked back, her elbow nudging his ribs as they shared a laugh.

Right as he saw her smile, he felt himself go soft as he saw how radiant she was when she was truly happy, and his stomach rumbled once more, breaking the moment between them.

“Alright, c’mon big guy, let’s get you home with some food,” She chuckled, snapping her fingers as the citlaltontli hovered back in her hands.

The little glowing beads lost their radiance, their surroundings fading into the shadows as Drea grabbed Jaime’s wrist gently, pulling the male towards the large double doors of the building.

“Using up this much energy for light has worked up my appetite too.”

He chuckled, eyes glued onto their conjoining point, swallowing the lump in his throat as he felt how soft her tan hands were.

“Yeah, food,” He chimed. “Wanna join us for dinner?”

“Only if you don’t almost expose me before your family.”

There was something about the playful glint in her eye that made him want to know her more, to know more about her childhood, her hopes, her dreams. Everything.

“Deal.”

Yeah, he was just hungry.

gif by @rob-pattinson

taglist: @mooncleaver @hoshi4k @mymanjaimereyes @asvterias @tinkerbelle05 @littlekidsteve @allthingsvicf

< comment/dm me if you’d like to be on the taglist! >

#blue beetle #blue beetle 2023 #jaime reyes x oc #jaime reyes x reader #blue beetle jaime reyes #blue beetle movie #blue beetle slight spoilers #jaime reyes #milagro reyes #bianca reyes #alberto reyes #khaji da #oc #ocs #blue beetle oc #sam writes !

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yoongsisbae · 3 years ago

Text

Caught! House of Cards - Chapter 3

You joined a website to make some quick and easy cash. Men paying to look at you, harmless fun, right? Little did you know how dangerous the members of House of Cards were. Watch out! Houses built with cards come tumbling down…

OT7 yandere!BTS x reader / Namjoon x Taehyung x reader this chapter

Oh, I was dying writing this chapter so I think I wrote it well? Heh there’s a lot going on, so you have been warned lol. Also hope to post HOAL soon, that is if BTS would stop attacking me with all these sexy bad boy photoshoots that scream C!HOC mens. Sorry, but can you really blame me? :(

Warnings: 18+ dark themes, reader manipulation, scary yandere behavior, voyeur, masturbation, lots of drinking and drunkenness, dubcon, dry humping on the dance floor lol, this is pretty filthy, all of them are horny, dom!Namjoon, dom!Taehyung, Tae’s a lot, shibari, bondage, blindfold, rough sex, edging, multiple orgasms, threesome, degradation, Yoongi continues to be a meanie, slut shaming, extreme regret for reader that could be triggering I think, tell me if I need to tag anything else

PSA: to reiterate, this is a yandere fic, this is all fantasy, this is scary, no one actually wants this to happen to them irl. But I’m also here for you if you wanna enjoy some hot fictional villains, alright? I got u boo.

Word Count: 8.7k

Playlist: Rotimi - Push Button Start // Shenseea - Blessed (with Tyga) // ROSALIA - Con Altura // Sean Paul - Go Down Deh // Afro B - Drogba // Aya Nakamura - Pookie // DJ Nelson - PAPI //J Balvin - Amarillo // SUPA NYTRO - Tik Pon Cock // Paris Lain - Way (links here)

---

“P-please...”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum, Daddy.”

He groans in your ear. “Hmm no.” He pulls his fingers out of you, you hold onto the banister as your orgasm escapes you. Your body shakes with need.

“You’ll come find me later tonight, won’t you, baby girl?” His warmth leaves your body, when you turn around no one is there.

---

Your legs are still shaking as you make your way downstairs. You tried not to think about the slick between your thighs as you descended each step, or think about RM’s warm breath against your ear. No, you won’t think about his deep voice that makes you shiver still, or the way he massaged your neck like he had done it a hundred times before...out of all the weird fucked up things you thought could happen tonight, never ever did you expect to meet RM again.

He reminded you of all the reasons why you allowed yourself to fall deeper into that kind of exhibitionistic lifestyle as a carded member. The money was good, but the sweetest rewards were corporal. The saccharine praise your admirers would give you became addicting. You even became close to some of them, for an extra fee.

What was it your old school counselor would say? It wasn’t about the destination, the real reward was the friends you made along the way. Except your new friends told you all their dirty filthy desires and watched as you would get off for them. You learned quickly your sexual appetite was ravenous, the more you indulged the worse it got. You had been starved for attention for so long, quarantine only amplifying your loneliness, and the dark site fed you well.

RM also reminded you of all the reasons why you left. You still don’t understand how you fell so deep so fast, let digital become physical when you promised yourself you wouldn’t. The House Rules made the descent into filth almost inevitable. During your only experience inside The House, you had been shown truths you didn’t want to face, depravities you enjoyed. After that night you went home, showered away your sins until your skin burned, logged out and never logged back in. It was the best way to end your addiction to House of Cards, end it cold turkey.

You were not prepared for this again. You were not prepared for how much you craved it.

---

The party became wild. Your body now hyper aware of everything after RM worked you up so skillfully and denied you any release. The music reverberates throughout the halls, the beats of the bass clashes with the pounding in your head. The smell of drugs and sex assaults your nostrils, and every time a dancer bumps into you, your body remembers RM’s touch.

So many bodies around you and you feel all alone like an outcast. Where’s Yoongi? You're beginning to miss that annoying smirk and the overconfident man attached to it, you could use some of that confidence right now.

As the room spins around you, your eyes find the place where you had been standing. You’re disappointed it’s empty. Not that you knew what RM looked like, but you feel like you’d recognize him as soon as you saw him, a man like that would look like walking sin.

You shift your upward gaze to the gold ropes hanging from the ceiling, eyes traveling down until you meet the glistening body of a woman. She’s so beautiful it makes you ache, arms secured behind her back, her leg extended and tied high, her other leg bent and pressed to her side and her spread open for everyone to see.

You play with the pendant around your neck, and you can’t help but imagine yourself in her position, tied up for everyone to see, for Yoongi to watch. You’re soaking. You need a drink.

---

“Hey,” you bump into Yoongi’s side as you sit down, grabbing his whisky glass and downing what’s left. The burning liquid makes you grimace, face scrunching up in distaste.

He pulls the glass from your grip, looking you up and down, sharp eyes narrowing, “Where have you been?”

“I got lost.” His arm snakes around your waist. His touch feels good, you don’t want to admit how much your body yearns for more, wants to be wanted. “Where are Jimin and Hobi?”

“Dancing,” Taehyung interjects as he gets closer to you, offering you another glass of champagne. You take it gratefully, sipping on the sweet liquid, anything to numb the ache you feel inside.

His eyes sparkle as he scrutinizes you up close, examining your dark makeup and tight dress. He wants to smear the red lipstick on your lips with his fingers, and his mouth, and his cock. He wants to stain your pretty black dress with his cum, let the milky white fluid drip all over the black silky fabric, between your breasts-

“I’m sorry, what is your name again?”

You ask him so innocently, Taehyung can forgive you for forgetting. Jungkook on the other hand, silently simmers with rage, especially when Yoongi smirks at him, sitting pressed to your side like a lover would.

“Taehyung,” The man gives you a big wide smile, “that's Seokjin,” he points to the tall man who keeps his distance, “and this,” he hits Jungkook’s chest and pulls him into a headlock, “is Jungkook!” Taehyung leans in to whisper in your ear, “a big fan.”

Your eyes go wide, did you hear him correctly? You watch the two play fight. Jungkook punches his older friend in the side a bit harder than he was expecting, earning a yell from Taehyung. They act cute, you think, Jungkook looks too innocent, you can’t believe he had watched you in his free time.

Hoseok and Jimin find their way back into the group. “Y/n, you’re back! Yoongi was about to send out a search party for you.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, and you lean your chin onto your palm, raising your eyebrows at him, trying to hide your smile at the way they tease him.

“Is that so?” His fingers pinch the flesh of your back at your retort, making you squirm at the ticklish sensation. When you try to pull his hand away, he takes the opportunity to intertwine your fingers together, pulling you firmly to his side.

You look down at Yoongi’s hand in yours, resting on your hip. Without the alcohol cursing through your veins you might have pushed him off you, but instead you sit buzzed and docile. He acts so possessive of you in front of the others, it makes your heart race. “Well I’m here now.”

“I’ll cheers to that!” Jimin fills everyone’s drinks. 7 glasses clang together and they cheer, making you giggle as you down the glass. One cheers becomes two, and then another bottle comes, until you're welcoming back that hazed state of mind that feels so freeing. The background fades away and the booming music around you becomes muffled as you try your best to focus on the conversation, until you realize you’re in Yoongi’s lap, his veiny hands dancing around your exposed thigh. He says something you can’t hear, so you tilt your head back, resting on his shoulder, whining out a slurred, “what!”

“You’re having too much fun.” He suppresses the urge to move his fingers higher, instead tracing lazy circles into your leg, making you twist in his lap, lips parting as you enjoy the sensation. Your body feels heavy from inebriation, so you lean your weight onto him more, focused on his cold rings against your warm skin.

You move your head closer to his. “You wanted to bring me here, right?” you laugh, and you swivel your body against him, grinding into his lap to the tempo of the music. Yoongi notices the others' heated stares, so he shifts his leg, pressing his hands into your thighs, opening your legs wider, and you’re too drunk to notice or care.

Yoongi tries to hold onto his thinning composure, how many times had he thought of you like this? So receptive and needy in his arms. He enjoys your torturous hip rolls, reveling in the fact that the sight tortures his audience even more. But you’re not really paying attention to that, your body only responding to how the music beat hits so well, his growing erection encouraging you to keep rubbing up against him like a cat in heat.

“Y/n, let's go dance!” Hoseok calls out to you over the music. His request pulls you from your trance. You sit up, shaking the clouded haze from your mind.

“Dance? Okay!” You let Hoseok pull you to your feet, stumbling slightly into him.

You turn to Yoongi, “You don’t mind, do you?” you ask, ready to start a fight. He glares at you. You sway on your feet and glare back. Such a brat, he thinks, you’ll just have to be taught a lesson later. Yoongi picks up his whisky and waves you off.

---

The dance floor is hot and alive with writhing bodies. You let Hoseok roll his hips into you from behind, your own hips following his movements. His toned arms lock around you, holding you, as he pulls your body lower and lower, until you’re crouched to the floor, your bodies connecting again and again as he rubs his hardening bulge into your ass to the beat.

It feels so so good, his warm body on you, seeking pleasure from one another. Every roll and buck helps to release the frustration RM did to you.

Hoseok’s hands pull your dress higher so you can spread your knees wider. He holds the bunched up fabric to your core to keep what’s left of your modesty, and your arms reach behind you to hook around his neck to keep yourself steady.

Hoseok is such a good dancer, masterfully guiding your loose body. You pull and push each other along to the sensual music, shifting your weight against your combined center of gravity as your bodies heat up in each other’s embrace.

Hoseok moves the hair from your neck away, blowing air on the back of your neck. His hand cups your breast, fondling you out in the open, “You like when I do this to you, don’t you Dahlia?” You’re too drunk to catch the pseudonym he uses.

You close your eyes focusing on his hands groping your body, your fingers fisting into his hair, pulling him closer, and his tongue licks off the sweat on your neck. Hoseok knows all the ways to leave you delirious with lust, hands running up and down your body, massaging your curves and leading your hips to meet his. If he’s making you feel this good with your clothes on, you can only imagine how amazing he’d be in bed, hips rolling against you as he fills you up with his stiff cock...

You’re so focused on Hoseok you don’t realize another body moving closer to you, another pair of hands on you, until Taehyung presses himself into your front.

The music fills your head, the dirty words being sung encouraging you to release all your inhibitions. Your arms reach out to run up Taehyung’s abdomen, up and up his chest, loving the feel of his muscles under your fingers.

He places your arms around his neck as he moves forward, his leg slotting between yours. With Hoseok grinding against your back and Taehyung rubbing against your front, you feel like you’re going to combust. The crowd around you is a blur, but everything about them feels so solid, so hard against you. Caged between them, you submit to every caress, every touch from both men.

Taehyung holds the back of your head to keep your eyes on him as Hoseok leaves open mouth kisses on your shoulder. Taehyung’s thumb caresses your cheek, “You’re so beautiful.” his mouth slides across your jaw, under your ear, licking and nibbling at your lobe, giving you goosebumps, “You’re the most beautiful woman here.”

You place your finger over his mouth pushing him away, too embarrassed to hear more, but your hips can’t help but push into him at the praise.

“Come with me,” he pulls you away from Hoseok, his friend winking at him behind your back, and you foolishly follow him through the sea of dancing bodies.

---

Pulling you into a dark corner, he cages you in before you can protest. Lips finding your neck, hooking a finger under your choker, pulling up, forcing your neck to tilt so he can reach more skin. Even if you want more, you still have some sense left in you to know letting Yoongi’s friend do this to you in front of everyone is a bad idea. “W-wait. Yoongi will-”

Taehyung’s arm slams into the wall. The noise startles you into silence. It’s Yoongi, always Yoongi. What about him? He steadies his breathing after noticing your wide eyes.

“Y/n, do you know who I am?” He leans onto the wall hovering over you, dark eyes peering down at you as he waits for your answer.

You feel your stomach drop under his intimidating gaze. “Should I know who you are?”

He answers your question with another question, “Do you know who Yoongi is? Do you really have no idea?” His interrogation takes you aback.

“He’s one of my...v-viewers...”

“Yes, who? You never thought to ask, baby?” Taehyung looks at you so accusingly, you feel ashamed that you can’t answer him.

“Who is he?” You ask.

He smiles, a twisted grin that makes you feel uneasy. Eyes lighting up darkly once his suspicions were proved right.

“How about this, since we both have so many unanswered questions, why don’t we play a game? I’ll answer one of your questions and then you answer one of mine. I’ll even let you go first.” His playful demeanor is back, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

“Who are you?”

Taehyung smiles wide. You asked the right question. “I go by V.”

What? “You’re V?”

---

You log into the House of Cards website, open your account to a litany of unread messages. Your eyes skim through them, and one catches your eye. It’s V, the second highest donator from the other night’s stream.

V: you looked so beautiful the other night. I hope to see another broadcast soon...for next time?

V sent you an eighty dollar donation and a link to a lingerie set: pink lace, a sheer see-through pattern on the cups with a matching lace thong and garter belt.

You’ve bought lingerie for men before, for then boyfriends on your anniversaries or Valentine’s day dates, but you’ve never had a man buy you lingerie before. With shipping you’ll still have money left over, so you decide to add some more things in your basket to surprise him for being such a generous donor. It’s not because you had enjoyed his compliments the most during your stream, no. You found a cute pair of thigh high socks and some stick on rhinestones, coming up with a plan to get V’s attention. You squeal once the order goes through, ‘time to arts and craft in this bitch.’

You open his message again, fingers hovering over the keyboard, what should you say? Should you make it sound sexy or cute? ‘C’mon y/n, just flirt.’

Dahlia: Thank you, V. I will wear it for my next broadcast. Just for you sexy <3

Ew ew. No. Before pressing enter you delete the last sentence.

Dahlia: Thank you, V. I will wear it for my next broadcast. See you soon ;)

You go through all your messages, in a much better mood than you’ve been in a long time. You bop your head to the music that flows through your speakers in your living room while coming up with different replies to each new viewer.

It feels good to be stress free, you think, while sipping on cup ramen because you’re still waiting until your earnings clear your account to buy groceries. You’ve managed to answer every message when a new notification dings. V attached a picture.

V: I can’t wait.

Holy... A picture of a shirtless man from the neck down pops up. He’s not overly muscular, but he’s lean and toned, with defined pecs and v-line. Mmm. ‘V’ indeed. His jeans are unbuttoned. His legs spread wide, as if he were inviting you to sit on his lap.

You’re being catfished, you surmise. This man has to be using someone else’s pictures. Or he has a face only a mother could love. Either way, you’ll play with this fantasy. it’s not like you’ll actually ever meet in real life.

So you decide to play along, it’s not like you had work to go to, or anything to do really. Locked up in your tiny home alone and slowly going stir crazy would lead to some unfortunate decisions for you. One of the worst, allowing V to get so close to you.

Abandoning your snacks, you grab your laptop and run to the bedroom, jumping on your bed. Your laptop opens to another risque photo, his jeans zipped even lower. Hand grabbing a very defined bulge resting inside his pants leg. Well fuck.

Dahlia: is that really you?

V: yes baby

V: I wish you were here with me right now. I would make you feel so good, just like you deserve.

V: How about you, am I turning you on?

You clench your legs together instinctively.

Dahlia: you are.

V: are you touching yourself?

Should you lie? You could. But the pictures and his words are doing something to you, you feel jitters and a quick pace and a throbbing core. Suddenly you have an idea.

Dahlia: why don’t you see for yourself?

You create a private room, aim your camera down, mirroring the same angle in V’s picture and send the link to him. You pull the front of your sundress down to show more cleavage and the hem up to show more leg, and you wait.

There’s a notification: ‘1 new viewer.’

V: you look so pretty, you look like a doll

V: I wish I was there.

“Yeah? What would you do to me?”

V: I would spread your legs

You spread your legs at his words. Your stream plays in Taehyung's bedroom, he watches intently, and when your panties come into view he pulls his jeans down to his thighs freeing his hard erection, slowly stroking himself to the sight of your body.

V: fuck, so good baby. being so good for me.

V: I would take off your panties. slowly

You follow his commands and slowly remove your underwear. You like being told what to do, you imagine he’s on the bed with you, telling you everything, guiding your pleasure.

V: touch yourself for me

V: you’re wet already? how cute

V: that’s a good girl, just like that

V: imagine it’s me. my fingers stuffed inside of you, giving you everything you want

V: you’re mine and mine only

V: you’re going to be mine to kiss and fuck. I’ll take care of you baby doll, make you cum all over my fingers. You want that too?

V: you're so pretty baby, you like putting on a filthy show for me? desperate little girl

V: open your legs wider

V: doing so well for me, stay just like that. you’re driving me crazy

V: cum for me

You pulse, moaning out loud, reaching your high. When your lust filled haze clears you don’t feel dirty like before, you feel good. Even better when V sends you another eighty dollar donation.

Taehyung played sweet and affectionate very well. When talking to other House members you’d try your best to keep things as vague as possible, but sometimes you’d let certain things slip with V, and he always listened so well. Shit, he treated you better than your ex. He’d send you sweet messages, gifts, and the hottest body shots. He would do that often, it made you needy for more affection. He was a part of a small group of viewers that you’d offer special private streams to. Little did you know your carefree playdates were Taehyung’s obsessions.

---

Taehyung feels a special kind of gratification at the way you gawk at him, stunned into silence. “Now my turn,” Taehyung’s expression goes from playful to serious in an instant, “Why are you here with Yoongi?”

You swallow, this was V all along. You teetered between happiness and unease, you remembered all the sweet memories you had with him, but this man was still a stranger to you. He keeps staring at you, is this how he looked watching you through the computer screen? Fuck, your imagination could not have dreamed up a sexier man. Oh right, he is waiting for your answer.

You explain to him what happened, Yoongi recognizing you at your job, the agreement you made with him afterwards. Taehyung moves from hovering over you to standing by your side. He listens intently as his eyes scan the crowd. You watch the dancers as you sober up, observing the debauchery you had just been a part of. Taehyung hums as you finish your story.

“Who is-” Taehyung doesn’t let you finish, his eyes staring at the second floor’s balcony. “You looked like you enjoyed yourself. You looked so pretty up there, with my friend’s fingers inside you. You were being such a cute little slut.” His eyes roll back inside his head and he opens his mouth sighing.

He saw you. Did the others- “Did Yoongi see?!” you pull on his arm to get him to focus on you.

“No, he didn’t, just me. My turn!”

You felt tricked, using your question up already.

He turns to face you, leaning his side against the wall. You can't help but notice how he stares at you like he’s undressing you with his eyes, gaze traveling down your body and pausing at every place your skin shows, your cleavage and your thighs. “He really worked you up, you looked so guilty when you came back,” Taehyung’s teasing tone back again, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Yoongi suspected something.”

Your eyes go wide with worry. “I’m willing to keep that secret for you if...” he bites his lip and leans in whispering, “I bet you’re still wet too. Can I have a taste?”

“R-right now?”

“Yes. That’s my turn again! And I’m waiting for my answer.” He gets closer to you, pressing up against you again, his hands brushing against your thigh. You look around, how far away are you from the crowd? How far away are you from Yoongi?

His lips brush against your temple as he leans his jaw against your forehead. “No one will see. Put your hands back on my shoulder, c’mon baby, be good for me.” His body blocks you from everyone’s view.

His head in your hair, taking a long inhale, breathing in your scent, Taehyung can’t get enough of you. Your shaky arms obey him, laying loosely on top of his broad shoulders. You lay your head on his chest, even if his words come out smooth, his heart is racing as he moves quickly between your bodies, dipping his long fingers inside you. You try to bite back a moan, but it feels too good.

Taehyung feels like he’s going to burst. You’re so wet, dripping all over his hand. He tries to fight his urges, there’s so many things he wants to do to you. Your soft whimpers sound so beautiful, so much better in person. You’re his to play with, all his.

He groans, pushing you hard against the wall. He looks like he’s going to devour you, your body tenses and you clench around his fingers. It only encourages him on. You grip his shoulders as he drives his hand upward, fingers pushing into you deeply as you fight against gravity, forced to stand on your tiptoes, struggling against him as his mouth attacks your neck, biting down hard. It’s too rough, too fast. “Tae-V-stop!”

His entire body stills against you, except for his fingers, teasing you still as they steadily press around inside your walls. You try to come to your senses, but everything about him unravels you.

He whispers against your forehead. “Last round, baby doll.” His voice raspy and breathing heavy as he holds himself back from tearing the clothes off your body. “One more question for each of us. I know where RM is, do you want to know?”

'RM,' who told you to find him, and V, who knows where. You gasp and nod your head, waiting but Taehyung smiles down at you in silence, fingers sliding out of you, making you whimper and grip the wall for support when he finally gives you space. He stays quiet as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking the wetness off his palm.

Your legs feel like jello, your body buzzes with each shameless lick as you watch him. You swallow the saliva accumulating in your mouth, pushing the lump in your throat down. You know what he wants. You played right into his trap, and the worst part is you want it too.

“Where is he?”

---

“If you think you’re going to keep her all to yourself you’re in for a rude awakening!” Jungkook grits out.

Yoongi sits quietly with his arms folded as Jungkook starts hurling accusations at him. Jin and Hoseok try to calm the youngest down, but it’s no use.

He grabs Yoongi’s collar, the action making Yoongi finally snap, and without warning Yoongi punches him squarely in the face. Yoongi had taken advantage of his friends holding Jungkook back and distracting him, satisfied when the young man recoils, stumbling back.

Before he can really lose it, Hoseok and Jimin drag Jungkook away, as the youngest screams all the ways he’s going to make Yoongi pay, not even aware of the blood leaking from his nose. Jin pulls Yoongi away in the opposite direction, “We need to talk.”

Jin walks Yoongi outside so they can both get some fresh air and clear their heads.

“He needs to learn not to disrespect his elders,” Yoongi mutters, wiping the blood off his knuckles.

“You know how he gets,” Jin counters, “Don’t act like you didn’t want that exact reaction from him. You were egging him on all night with y/n.”

Yoongi scoffs. He can’t stand how Jungkook acts like you belong with him. Jungkook is crazy. He’s too hot-headed and oversensitive, the complete opposite of Yoongi. The youngest suffers from inexperience and naivety. All that bark, and he couldn’t even bring himself to talk to you. No, Jungkook doesn’t deserve you, Yoongi thinks, he could never take care of you like Yoongi could.

“What exactly are you trying to accomplish? You brought y/n back and we’re all happy for that, but if Jungkook is right, then I’m going to have to agree with him, brother.” Jin squeezes his friend’s shoulder and Yoongi shakes him off.

“I wasn’t going to keep her locked away.” Yoongi says dismissively. Not that he didn't think once or twice about it.

“How gracious of you.”

“Listen, I found her. She chose me before and she’ll choose me again. The last time you were with her, what happened, Brother? Hobi and Jimin, Jungkook and even you can fight over her all you want. In the end, she will come back to me.”

Jin smiles, he will let Yoongi think that. “And where is your y/n now?”

“I’ll go find her,” Yoongi goes to leave, itching to get you by his side again.

Jin’s hand on his chest stops him. Jin can’t help but smile at his poor friend’s situation, he had been tricked by the two youngest, a plan they orchestrated themselves and everyone else went along with. But Jin couldn’t keep his friend in the dark any longer, especially when revealing the truth would make the aftermath that much more entertaining for Jin.

“I have to tell you something.”

---

You stand in front of the door Taehyung had led you to, your nerves on high alert. Taehyung stands behind you, humming to himself. His arm reaches over your shoulder to rapt three knocks on the door.

As the door knob turns, Taehyung exclaims behind you, “Oh! I forgot.” His long fingers cover your eyes, as he pulls your head back, your body stumbling and crashing against him.

“Taehyung!”

“Shh. Calm down, it’s more fun this way,” he whispers in your ear as you hear the door creak open.

“What do we have here?”

“I brought her for you,” Taehyung purrs. You can feel his chest puff up behind you, he’s ecstatic, you played his game so perfectly, he was so proud of you.

“Good boy.”

You feel fingers wrap around yours as Namjoon brings your hands to his lips, caressing your knuckles. “And what about you? Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

---

Jimin tends to Jungkook’s bleeding nose as Hoseok pours himself a drink. “Thanks for taking one for the team, Kookie.”

Jungkook keeps his head tilted back to stop the blood, glancing over to Hoseok, lips curving in a smile, he’s happy that he accomplished his part of the plan successfully, “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

Jimin flicks him in the forehead. “No you’re not, unless you want y/n to never forgive you.”

“She won’t,” he pouts, “she acts like she hates him. I’ll be doing her a favor.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

---

The room is quiet, too quiet compared to the raucous party outside. So when Taehyung drags a chair from the corner of the room, the wood scraping against the floor sounds all the more foreboding. Goosebumps bloom on your body as if Taehyung dragged his fingernails along your skin instead.

You sit kneeling on the floor waiting, knees tucked underneath you. RM sits on the bed behind you, legs outstretched and you between them. You stare down at his shoes, shiny black loafers, and glance at his pants legs on either side of you. It's the first time you’ve ever seen a part of him. You want to look up so badly, the idea sits heavy on you, tensing every muscle in your body as you fight your curiosity. The only thing you want more is to find out what will happen if you obey them.

Taehyung pulls the chair right in front of you, facing the bed, you and RM. Another pair of shoes brush against your knees as Taehyung takes a seat.

RM’s fingers rest atop your head and keep your head tilted down while he waits for his friend to situate himself. Until eventually RM moves behind you, fingers fisting your hair and pulling you to your feet. “Go sit on his lap.”

Taehyung sits looking at you like he's just been given first place prize, smirking pridefully as you walk towards him on shaky legs. His shirt is already unbuttoned, tan skin and taunt muscles in full view. That's V, all right. Your insides ache for him, his seduction luring you in like a firefly to light.

Your dress stretches around your thighs as you straddle him, his hands grabbing at your ass and pulling your body into his.

You hear RM’s low voice growl behind you, “Kiss him.”

For a moment you think about the intense quiet man who brought you to this island, his piercing eyes flashing through your mind until Taehyung’s lips crash into yours and you can only think about how sweet the man devouring you tastes, and you kiss him back, exploring his mouth with your tongue.

His hands grope your body, pull your face closer, force away the fabric of your clothes. His touch is everywhere, keeping you distracted only on him as RM sets things up behind you.

RM pulls off his tie as Taehyung’s hands move to either side of your face, and he pulls you away from him, leaving one last peck on your lips, “You’re doing so well, baby doll. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

“V...Taehyung, I-I’ve wanted this too.”

“Will you do what I say?” You feel RM’s hands unzip the back of your dress, the fabric lowers and exposes your chest. Taehyung’s grip on your face tightens as you’re momentarily distracted, bringing your attention back to him.

“Yes.”

“I want you to fuck RM while I watch.”

He what who?

Taehyung brings his hips up causing you to lose your balance when he senses your hesitation, his hard length rubs against your aching core, “Don’t you want to? You wanted so badly for me to take you to him, didn’t you? All you have to do is say yes.”

His thumb traces your jaw as RM lowers his black tie across your eyes. Your heartbeat races, your thighs clench around Taehyung’s legs making him moan and buck into your heat. You shudder and RM secures his tie behind your head with a tight knot.

“Tae...” your fingers tighten into the loose fabric of his shirt at your sudden loss in vision.

Taehyung clasps his hands around yours, holding your wrists together as RM presses himself against your back, and you feel ropes being wrapped around your wrists. “You’re so pretty like this, remember last time?”

You do remember. Fuck, how did you end up like this again? This is all Yoongi’s fault.

RM’s hand wraps around your neck and his deep voice speaks in your ear, “Answer him, baby girl.”

“I-I remember.” You want to cry, you want to cum, you want them to stop this torture.

“Let us make you feel good again,” Taehyung’s voice lowers even deeper than RM’s.

“I...okay.”

“You’ll let RM use you?” You nod your head, grateful you can’t see them. You let yourself hide behind the makeshift blindfold.

“Use your words, I want to hear you say it,” RM demands.

“I want you to use me,” you sit and wait, embarrassed the words left your mouth so easily. The lack of response makes your insides churn, you can’t see the way they smile at each other. If Yoongi wants to make you only his, they are just going to have to destroy you for any other man.

RM’s grip around your neck tightens, arm wrapping around your body as he lifts you off your feet. You land on the soft covers of the bed, you have no time to adjust to the drastic change of orientation before you feel harsh tugs as RM works to undress you, throwing the clothes over to Taehyung who takes his time breathing in your scent, licking the moistness from the fabric.

Namjoon pulls on the rope wrapped around your wrists placing them high above your head, his weight bears down on top of your leg as he grabs your other leg and spreads you wide. The way Taehyung moans reach your ears you suspect he has full view of your naked body. You wiggle against RM’s hold as best you can.

“Mmmm so needy and I’m not even doing anything yet.” RM’s hand leaves your wrists as he moves lower, resting his upper body on top of yours, effectively pinning your lower body down. Having full reign to play with you in this position, you feel his fingers teasing at your entrance. Your tied hands explore the expanse of his back, his shoulders so wide you can’t reach around to end his teasing, you can only moan and whimper at his slow ministrations.

“Ahh so wet,” RM massages everywhere except the place you want him most.

This is mean, this is tortuous, you’ve obeyed them and they still tease you. You cry out in frustration, clenching every time his fingers poke at your hole, RM’s grip on your thigh is too tight to move even an inch. You shove his back with your tied hands and RM laughs.

“Tae, help me out.” You feel fingers finally pressing into your aching clit, rubbing slow circles, making you cry out. RM’s fingers continue to drag across your lips, gathering the wetness that drips from your core. They slowly and steadily work the tension out of you until you’re numb with pleasure.

You let out a scream when your orgasm finally hits you. After being tortured all night, teased until you were delirious, the release becomes so intense you black out, and when you come to RM is pumping his fingers into you roughly. Your body seizes up again, racing into another orgasm. He rocks his hand into you, thumb rubbing your sensitive hood, and you release again. But RM doesn’t stop. He takes and takes, leaving you breathless. The sounds of your wetness fills the room, mixing with Taehyung’s grunts and moans at your helpless state.

“I c-can’t...too sensitive!”

“This is what you wanted, for Daddy to use you. Take it.”

Your tied hands try to move RM’s body off of you, but he is like a boulder on top of your body, unaffected by your hits. You struggle until his pleasure overtakes the pain, and you fall back, losing yourself in the way his fingers fill you up, hitting the deepest parts of you so skillfully. You stop fighting and accept the power he holds over you, he is making you feel so good you want him to take it, the thought sends you hurtling into another orgasm, tightening again around his fingers.

He can feel how close you are. “Be a good girl and give me one more,” RM groans, “that’s it.”

You’re wailing in pleasure now, unable to stop your cries. Your weak body shaking in his grasp. You feel something wet hit your outstretched thigh. Taehyung’s deep grunts of release finally undoing the coil inside you, and you orgasm for a third time around RM’s fingers.

RM lets go of you finally and you lie boneless, breathing ragged, blind and numb to the world. The air feels cool on your sweaty body as you come down from your high. You feel the bed dip as RM joins you again. Before he had been fully dressed, now you can feel his warm skin against your slippery body.

He lays himself between your legs. His lips finally meet yours, they feel full. You moan into his mouth as his tongue plays with yours. You want to touch his face but your arms are still tied together, so you caress his hair instead, the back of his neck, his muscular shoulders, trying to feel as much as you can.

His hard length brushes against your oversensitive core, his mouth swallowing your whimpers as he pushes himself in. You’re so wet there’s no resistance, but the stretch still leaves you gasping. His thrusts are hard and deep, you focus on how the weight of his body feels on top of yours as he uses you to reach his high. “You’re taking Daddy so well, baby.”

“T-Thank you, Daddy,” you stutter out between moans.

RM holds your wrists down as he finishes, releasing deep inside you. You feel every pulse from his cock, the pressure almost becoming too much as he fills you up.

You hear the familiar scrape of the chair again as Taehyung comes closer, fingers wiping away the tears on your face making you feel cared for. You don’t see how he licks your salty tears off his hand.

RM lifts your tired body in his arms, cradling you to his chest. He puts you in his lap as he takes a seat in the vacant chair.

“Tae has been such a patient boy, I think it’s time for his reward.”

RM moves your body so your back is flush against his, pulling the rope on your hands around his head, locking your arms. His hand massages up and down your legs, putting his knees in between yours.

“Kneel.” You realize RM is addressing Taehyung. He spreads his legs to make room for Taehyung, forcing your legs open in the process.

“RM-” Namjoon places his hand over your mouth, the same way he did at the party, stifling your scream as Taehyung buries his face into your pussy.

Taehyung eats you out while RM keeps you open, until you’re shaking in his lap, until you can’t form anything coherent anymore, until you’re so sensitive Taehyung’s lips around your clit is the only thought in your head, the drag of his tongue pulling away from you the last thing you feel before exhaustion sends you into the deepest sleep of your life.

---

You wake up alone.

You pull the sheets closer to your naked body as you look around the vacant room. Everything is moved back to its place, floor empty. You search the ground for your clothes but there’s nothing there. You pull yourself out of bed, trying to ignore your aching joints and pounding head. You look for your clothes but there’s nothing. You search the entire room, the closet is empty, the dresser is empty, there’s not even a towel in the bathroom. Where the hell are your clothes?!

You make your way back into bed, pulling the covers over your body.

Oh fuck, what are you going to do?

What time is it? They just left you and took your clothes. What kind of sick game is Taehyung playing now? Tears well up in your eyes.

You feel more confused than ever, Taehyung had been so sweet to you before, you had often fantasized meeting him, but he was so different in person. You hadn’t expected this. He’s going to come back, right? Right?!

You are pulled away from your thoughts at the sound of the door creaking open.

“I see you’ve been a very bad girl.” Your eyes widen as Yoongi makes his way into the room, closing the door behind him. He looks as smug as ever, holding a hanger over his shoulder.

“A-Are those my clothes?”

“Are these the clothes I gave you last night? No, looks like you fucked yourself out of those.” You pull the bedsheet closer to you, gritting your teeth, blinking away your tears.

“Yoongi...”

“Hmm?” He leans against the bedpost, the clothes hanger hanging off one finger. You want to punch him, but you know you're walking on thin ice already.

“P-please help me.”

“You lost the clothes I got you. Why should I give you more?” You can tell he’s itching to humiliate you.

“So you’re just going to leave me here naked?!” you yell at him.

His eyes narrow. He grabs the bedsheet and pulls, dragging it off your body before you can stop him. You wrap your arms around your chest and pull your legs together.

“I should, after what you did!” Yoongi screams, “Whoring yourself out to my friends. Two at the same time, enjoy yourself? Fucking slut.” His words sting you. How could you fuck up so badly, you just let yourself become overtaken by lust.

“Now look at you. You let them take advantage of you. They used you and they left you with nothing. What would you have done if I didn’t find you?” He crosses his arms, his cold eyes glaring at you.

You burst into tears. Is he right? Is that what they did to you? “I’m-s-so-sorry,” you manage to say between sobs.

He sighs, “I’m here now.” You need him, he’s going to make you see that. He moves closer, lifting your chin to look at him. “If they had taken this,” his hand brushes your choker, “I would have killed them.”

You look at him pleadingly, trying to silence your sniffles. He offers you the clothes hanger, “Change into this.”

---

You unzip the clothes bag and pull out a dress with a light flowery pattern. The fabric is sheer and flowy. The matching lingerie set is pastel pink and strappy. Well, even if he is an asshole at least you can count on Yoongi to make you look good. You clean up your makeup and style your hair as best you can in the empty bathroom, removing what's left of the smudged dark eyeshadow, pushing thoughts from last night away. The more you try to make sense of what transpired, the more confused you become, and remembering just makes you feel hot all over.

Yoongi pushes himself off the wall when you open the door.

There is still music playing, still people dancing, a lot less than the night before, but you’re amazed there are any at all.

“Does the party ever end?” you think out loud.

“Only if you want it to.”

Yoongi leads you outside. When you reach the backyard you realize the party truly never really ended, only moved. Partygoers lounge by the pool, drinking and eating.

“Is that a fucking mermaid?” Girls dressed up in tails lay about the pool, you're about to run towards them when Yoongi pulls you away from the pool. “Let’s eat before you decide to go make friends.”

You walk in step. He looks put together as always, wearing simple light clothes, a white shirt tucked into tan pants, an unbuttoned collared shirt on top.

“Is everyone here a House member?” You ask, finally sober enough to start learning some things.

“Yes, I thought it was obvious. It’s nothing official. Just a get-together after our quarterly meeting, something for our investors.”

Right, never did you just have a ‘get-together’ like this. It's annoying how out of touch they are.

You see the familiar faces of his friends sitting in a secluded area. Before you and Yoongi get within earshot he grabs your arm.

“If Taehyung and Jungkook try to touch you again, let me know, will you?”

Wait, Jungkook is RM? What? No way, that doesn’t make any sense. He can’t be, he was downstairs when you first met RM. But why does Yoongi think you fucked him? Jungkook is not RM. Though, you remember how he never spoke to you.

His grip on you tightens when you don’t answer, “Y/n…”

“Okay, okay.”

---

Jungkook watches you and Yoongi whispering to one another. You look flustered when Yoongi places a soft kiss on your cheek before breaking away.

He takes a deep breath, rubbing his temples to take the tension away. When he looks up again, Yoongi and you are walking towards the group, your eyes fixated on...him? Jungkook breaks eye contact and looks back at you...and you’re still staring at him. He keeps eye contact with you, face going redder and redder.

He watches as you greet his friends, eyes glancing his way too frequently to call it a coincidence. What the fuck did Yoongi tell you to make you look at him like he grew three heads?

---

“I’ll be right back.” Yoongi makes his way to the far end of the party where Seokjin is talking to another man. You watch as Yoongi embraces the stranger, it’s one of the few times you’ve seen Yoongi smile, not a self satisfied smirk or a threatening grin, but a genuine smile showing off his gums that make the intimidating man look actually cute. The stranger gives him a dimpled smile in return.

“Who’s that with Seokjin?” you ask Jimin.

He looks over to where you're pointing, Jimin's expression full of mirth, “That’s Namjoon, looks like he made it to the party after all.”

“Oh.”

Jimin pulls on your arm, turning you to him, “Let’s go swimming!”

“Oh, but I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“That’s okay, you can go in your underwear,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, making you giggle.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” Jimin whines as you get up, and you promise him it will only take a minute. You know you’d never get a chance to talk to Jungkook with Yoongi by your side, the two of them seem to have an odd tension between them. But now that Yoongi is distracted with Seokjin and Namjoon, it’s the perfect opportunity.

“Er hello?”

Jungkook’s wide doe eyes looks up at you. “Hello...”

Okay, he definitely doesn’t sound like RM. “Hi, I didn’t get to talk to you last night. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Oh, hi.”

“...hi.”

This is painfully awkward. You study his frame...he is built. The tank top he’s wearing shows off his broad shoulders and muscular tattooed arms, he looks strong like how you imagine RM. Maybe if you kiss him...

Jungkook watches as you peer over his back. “Dahlia…”

“Hmm? Oh, just call me y/n.” you insist, the alias making you feel self-conscious.

“I missed talking to you...so much.”

“We talked?” Is he really RM? No, it doesn’t feel like him at all.

Jungkook bites his lower lip. His front teeth pressing into his round lips makes him look cute, you think, like a scared rabbit.

“Yes, we used to talk a lot, before...” he bites back the words so he doesn’t make you uncomfortable. “My username is..” Ugh, Jungkook can’t believe he’s saying this to you out loud, why did he have to choose such a dumb username? “PlayboyJK.”

“Oh, oh! I remember you!” You remember your conversations with him. He was a good tipper, a bit unconventional in his requests, but he was always one of the first viewers to your stream.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you would watch me.”

“Why?”

“You’re just so...handsome? I’m just surprised, I guess!”

Jungkook’s ears go red at the compliment. You’re so perfect, you’re a goddess. He’d watch you all day every day, he’d watch you sleep. How could you think he wouldn’t want to watch you?

“I think you’re so beautiful, I like you a lot.”

“T-Thank you,”

“Are you going to start streaming again?

“Ha no no. I put all that behind me. Well, I thought I did,” you say after noticing Jungkook’s confused expression. “Um, it’s a long story.”

“Oh, you don’t have to join again. I could, um, pay you directly.”

“You’d pay me? For what?” you laugh, but you're curious to hear his answer.

“For anything, I’d pay you...just be with me.” you look into Jungkook’s wide eyes, so determined. Maybe if Yoongi had asked you this way, you would have considered it.

“I-HEY!” You squeal as Hoseok lifts you out of your seat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look of dismay as he pulls the younger man to his feet too.

Somehow you ended up in the pool with your dress still on. The sheer fabric doing little to hide the lingerie underneath for all the men to see.

---

The sun has already left the horizon while you sit on the deck of Yoongi’s yacht, drying off your body from the day's watery fun. You listen to the waves hit the walls of his boat as it sloshes around in the water, the rhythm like a whispering melody. The twilight casts everything in blue, the smell of salt and fresh air along with sound of the sea's waves is just so relaxing. What you wouldn't give to experience this all the time.

“Come back with me.” Yoongi's hushed voice breaks your trance.

“And be what, your personal servant?" you scoff, "I don’t think so.”

"What about those girls at the party? You could be like them, always having fun, the center of attention."

You bite your lip. "I don't want that." You wonder if Yoongi will believe you when you don't even believe yourself.

"Or I could just give you all my attention." He gets closer to you. "All this could be your life."

"Maybe I like my life-"

Yoongi laughs at you, earning himself a glare.

"Or I could just keep you here." He smirks down at you.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t dare me.”

You stop glaring at him, turning your head away. You watch the lights on the mansion turn on as the night settles in.

“Do you really want to go back to that boring job?” You roll your eyes at his words. “Don’t you want more? To have fun? I’ll give you everything you want."

"I don’t think you could give me everything."

"Just try. You can always go back, I’m sure that manager friend of yours would rehire you."

You sigh, breathing in deep the salty air.

“I would have to put in my two weeks...”

---

Hobi’s scene was fun to write, I haven’t been to parties or dancing in so long I was like what the hell happens again? Now I wanna dance! Reader who said Yoongi will throw her into the sea last chapter you made me laugh so hard I almost considered making him do that lol. I guess there’s still some time to piss him off enough! Do you believe Yoongi? What do you think (or want) to happen next? <3

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slasherholic · 3 years ago

Text

Contains: gender neutral reader, torture, forced scarification, bondage, spanking, fear play, body horror, threats of violence, mentions of drugging.

Asa Emory x Favorite!Victim Reader | One More Chance | Chapter 2

part one here

He stops in front of the elevator. Green-grey mold climbs the peeling beige wallpaper on either side of it like creeping fingers. The tarnished doors sit locked away behind a rusting barred gate. You had tried to use this exact same elevator when you almost got away from—

When you disobeyed him, interjects the part of your brain that just spared you your limbs. You had tried to use this elevator when you disobeyed him.

But he had locked it up tight from the top floors, too.

Upon realizing that, you nearly went slinking back to your room. You remember thinking that if you went back, if you crawled back inside your trunk and shut the lid, if you curled up very tight and very small, if you were good for him, when he found you, he might forgive you. There would still be a punishment for jimmying the lock; but if you showed him that you were sorry, ready to obey, ready to let him keep you without a fuss, the punishment might be bearable.

Then you had discovered a vent with a screw loose. Loose enough for you to peel back the grate.

The moment your slow descent to the lobby through the vents began, you knew forgiveness was out of the question. If he caught you before you made it out of this hotel, you would be tortured for it.

There is not a single doubt in your groggy, muddled, drugged-up mind that you are still about to be tortured for it.

He lowers your body to the grimy floor and unhooks his keychain from his belt. The keys jangle as he flips the ring once around his finger and catches it again.

A shrill cry leaves your throat when his boot comes down on your temple.

He presses the rubber firmly into your cheek, smushing your face against the cold floor, covering your eyes. He’s not going to let you see this part.

You hear him flipping back and forth between the keys, in no particular hurry to find the correct one.

One,

two,

three locks click open.

The pressure on your temple lifts mercifully away. You watch his boots as he slides the grated rusty door barring the elevator open. When he picks you up again, he slings you over his shoulder, his hand coming down to hold your naked thigh.

There are fifteen amber buttons on the chrome panel inside the elevator. You know your room is on the eighth floor.

Dread knots your stomach when you see the counter above the doors pass floor number eight.

He’s not taking you back to your room.

The elevator stops on floor fourteen. He steps out, and into a part of the hotel you have never seen before. He starts down the decayed hall.

You pass one of his dolls. You don’t shut your eyes in time before you see her.

The first thing you see is the woman’s guts.

Shimmering in a slippery wet blue-purple pile on her abdomen like a tangle of worms, leaking blood down her ribs from stress-worn ruptures in the meat. The stench of her insides hits you like a kick to the face. You realize you must be smelling the chemicals of her stress and fear, cortisol, adrenaline, the pungent amalgamation of everything her panicking brain released when he did this to her.

It must have been recent; nobody could survive this for long.

She whimpers weakly at the sound of his approach. Where her eyes are meant to be, there are only bloody, glistening hollows.

Reaching out, he grazes her IV line with his fingers, letting his hand brush her face tenderly as he walks past.

The woman’s whimpers rise into a steep pained cry that twists her features and dribbles quickly back to whimpering when she seems to realize that he has continued on walking, and isn’t going to linger to touch her more.

He takes you to the end of the hall. You hear the jingling of his key ring, the squeal of a turning handle.

The room inside is utterly unlike the rest of the hotel. Clean, tidy, well-furnished, well-lit. The cream colored wallpaper is spotless and adorned with charts boasting detailed portraits of various species of beetle and moth. All the furniture looks new.

He carries you to a long leather ottoman and starts to push it with his leg away from its resting place next to a bookshelf. In the middle of the room, he deposits you belly-down across it. Your arms fall limply to both sides. He steps out of view.

A radio crackles and sputters to life. Some melody plays faintly over it.

This is some sort of study.

You stare blankly at a locked glass case on the opposite end of the room as he moves somewhere behind you where you can’t see him. Sat upon the shelves are rows upon rows of insects preserved in jars of orange fluid.

Except some of them are very clearly not insects.

You shut your eyes, not caring to see what’s in those jars. Behind you, he opens a cabinet door, and starts to push a trolley cart with a squeaky wheel. You open your eyes when he gets too close.

There are two trays atop the cart. One white, one silver. You watch him lift a thin tool out of the silver tray, turning it over in the light, and your heart falls into your stomach.

It’s a scalpel. He’s holding a scalpel.

You launch right back into your desperate pleading frenzy.

Wait, wait, no no no, I’ll be good, I’ll be good—

The words come out as pitiful, slurred garbling. The drug has paralyzed your tongue.

His gloved hand shoots out. He seizes the underside of your jaw, cruelly. The pleading catches in your throat.

“No more of that.”

The order is stern, yet his voice remains unnervingly steady. It is the first you’ve ever heard him raise it above a whisper.

Fresh tears prick the corners of your eyes. You obey him without thought and fall silent.

From a desk in the corner, he pulls up a three-legged stool, and sits down next to you, knees level with your face. The simple proximity to him has your heart beating out of your chest. He wipes your back down with something cold and then his fingers alight to trace your shoulders gingerly. He rap-tap-taps the scalpel he’s about to use on you against the leg of the stool.

Steadying you with a hand pressed flat on your back, he starts to work.

The bite of the scalpel is unforgiving. Your tears come fast. Before long you’re shrieking, sobbing, struggling to breathe. He doesn’t tell you to stop, doesn’t tell you to be quiet. His incisions are swift and skillful. You can feel the little flicks of his wrist as the blade sinks in and out of your back.

You see him wiping thin bloody slivers into the white tray on the rolling table, pieces of you. The sensation of the warm blood streaming down your back and shoulders turns you clammy and cold. He wipes the runny red up with a cloth from the trolley before it gets on his ottoman.

When it is over, your mind is soup.

You gape like a fish as you suck in shuddery breaths and stare blankly at his gloved hands as he sets the dripping scalpel down in its tray again, passing it through the light once more, watching it shimmer with your blood.

Your body flinches reflexively as he stands suddenly from the stool. Straddling you over the ottoman, he rearranges your legs to make room for him. His shins graze the back of your thighs as he sits. Pressing his palm flat against the small of your back, he traces your skin gingerly, examining his work. You whimper and cry. He pats your cheek.

Getting up, he goes to his desk. When he comes back you hear the click of a camera, the whirr of a picture printing. With two fingers, he slides a polaroid photo onto the ottoman, and tells you to look.

You tremble and cry. You don’t want to.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

You obey him and look.

You start choking on your own sobs.

Butterfly wings. He’s given you butterfly wings. Wings with intricate, skillful patterns. Their graceful swooping tails reach all the way to your lower back. Bright red pools in the raw pink divots where he removed layers upon layers of your skin.

His hand closes firmly around your wrist. He cleans your fingers with a wipe. Rotating your hand behind you, he makes you feel the slippery cuts.

You whine at the sting, trembling in his strong grip. The wounds are just as deep as they look.

“It’s going to scar,” he states, matter-of-factly.

He leaves the polaroid sitting on the table next to your face as he begins to dress the wound. The cleaning hurts almost as much as the cutting, and though he’s being gentle now you think it would be more bearable if he was being cruel. His light brushes leave you trembling like a leaf.

On goes the adhesive bandaging. You watch him through shimmery tears as he gets up, goes to stand at the glass case, undoes the lock, and squats to reach the bottom shelf. He removes an empty jar and a bottle of preserving fluid.

Going back to the trolley, setting the jar down, he screws off the lid. The preserving fluid sloshes as he pours it inside. Reaching into the white tray, he carefully sets the thin pieces of what he sliced off of you into the preserving jar, one by one. You watch them flutter down and settle at the bottom. He screws the lid back on and writes something in cursive in black marker on the label. Going back to the case, he carefully moves aside a beetle specimen, and places his new collection piece on the top shelf.

He checks his watch. Peeling off his gloves, which are wet with your blood, he deposits them in a small trash can in the corner and removes a new pair from his back pocket.

He doesn’t put them on. When he walks past the ottoman he trails the gloves lightly across the nape of your neck. Your body winces and shudders. You don’t hear him shut the door as he leaves the room.

His confidence in his drug is accurate; by the time he comes back, the only movement you’re able to accomplish is a useless twitching of your fingers and toes.

You aren’t facing the right way so you can’t see the chains he’s holding in his hand but you can hear them and the sound makes a pang of dread explode inside of you. They clank and rattle as he drops them beside the ottoman. He greets you with another soft caress of your nape. His gloves are wet again, with someone else’s blood.

He peels off the dirtied second pair and doesn't bother putting on another.

He crosses your arms behind your bandaged back as you sob into the leather. Snap. The pair of thick shackles close around your wrists. The cuffs are tight and uncompromising. He measures the circumference of your neck with a measuring tape, wrapping it taut around your throat, holding it to the base of your skull with two fingers.

You make fragile broken whines as he fits a stiff steel collar around your neck. You hear the click of a padlock. His warm knuckles come down to stroke your cheek.

His hands go under your body and he lifts you, sinking down on the ottoman in your place, splaying you across his lap. He grips the chain shackling your wrists behind your back, securing your arms tightly. In his shadow, you see him pull back his hand.

Whack.

A shattered sound rips out of you at the impact. You think for an instant that he has taken his knife out of his pocket and stabbed your backside.

With the next smack, you realize that it's his palm, and that he’s spanking you.

One more and you know he’s about to ruin your ass.

Ten seconds on and your sharp yelps are rising into screams. Thirty seconds and your cries are animal. Your cheeks are burning, blood rushing to the spanked area. His palm comes down again and again.

You feel him switch hands. His fingers curl around the front of your throat, gripping you above your collar, hot from the friction of his slaps and your own swelling skin. He rests his palm on your bruised bottom, groping the stinging flesh.

“Count,” he orders. “Out loud.”

Whack.

You obey his order through tears, blurting out the numbers between strangled sobs.

Whack. Wham. Whack.

The slaps are brutal. He’s putting all his strength behind it. Your lips are trembling as you count your punishment. You realize you can feel his clothed erection pressing against your side and that makes you sob harder.

At five, he stops. His hands leave your body, and you hear him fidgeting with his mask. The unlaced black fabric concaves in on itself as it falls to the floor, resting next to his boot.

You can’t look him in the face. You wouldn’t even if you could. You don’t want to see him.

Gripping your jaw, lifting your chin, he presses his nose and mouth to your ear.

“Shh… Shh shh shh...” He shushes your whimpering quiet.

Brushing your cheek with his knuckles, he informs you that five is the number of days he’s going to feed you with nothing but the tube he’s about to shove down your throat.

#third part may take longer heh #asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collector #the collector x reader #the collection #slashers #horror #fanfiction #writing #reader insert #tw: torture #dark fic

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footballffbarbiex · 2 years ago

Text

The Vow. Chapter Two.

Player: Oscar Mingueza Words: 1614 Warnings: brief mentions of sustaining head injury (not like the movie which this is based on, there’s no car accident)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

She remains in the box for longer than normal after the game. Both sets of fans are filing out, with some having already left before the final whistle had blown, and she watches as the seats become more visible as bodies leave the rows. It was never going to be a good match, especially with the title race fully on with each game switching between Real Madrid and Barcelona for the top spot. El Clasico just made everything worse in terms of rivalry and with 3 points swiped away from under Real after a teeth clenching VAR review and penalty awarded to Barcelona at the 89th minute, securing them the win, leaving away fans furious and home fans celebrating.

Drinking in the last of the atmosphere here, she pushes away from the railing and begins to make her way out, swiping a few grapes and cracker biscuits which she pops into her mouth as she begins the descent back down the stairs and through the winding maze of corridors. Smiling and giving a little nod to some of the staff that she recognises, she briefly exchanges a few lines of conversation as they pass one another, and asks another to tell Oscar that she’ll be outside waiting with Sara and not in the carpark like usual.

Oscar had played amazing. A few moments where he’d lost possession of the ball but he’d moved on autopilot, body twisting and recovering the ball before passing it on. He would have been down for an assist had the goal not been ruled offside, something which she knew that he’d be proud of. He’d worked hard to build up his minutes once more. He’d kept his head down in training, pushing himself to be the best he could and prove his worth to the team. With no errors which had led to a goal, she knew he’d be proud of his performance.

The streets are still alive, with dregs of the evening sun casting a warm, golden glow over everything that it touches through the pink tinted evening sky. Fans wearing the two clashing jerseys are taking over, filtering out of the stadium like ants. Some to the carparks, some back to the metro and others simply walk. Some of the fans are able to speak amicably, others are taunting one another as they part ways but from what she can see and hear, it’s mostly playful teasing and nothing too aggressive. It’s the main reason she waits safely away, especially with some fans now knowing her face since Oscar made it into the first team.

Checking her phone, she sees that Sara is on her way but won’t be here for another five or so minutes, prompting her to stuff her phone back into her jacket and lean against the nearest stable surface. She listens to some of the arguments over the match results, some of which can be valid criticism, but some is just bitterness and point scoring from both sides. Something she’d learned early on was that there was no such thing as a neutral football fan, everyone had their own opinions and everyone was right.

She also learnt not to check social media after a game, realising that fans were not forgiving and found it far easier to write their abuse and hateful thoughts in the moment, not realising the long lasting effects it would have on those around the player. Oscar refused to check social media after most games, except for a few fan accounts who he trusted could be a safe place and even though today would be a good day, it was still better not to look at all.

Her gaze snaps to a few fans who are a little louder, their voices and body language are equally boisterous, drawing attention from many who stop what they’re doing to watch. She’s got a perfect view of those who are streaming to and from the station and smiles as she sees Sara’s bright yellow jacket. She knows when her friend has spotted her because Sara begins dancing, making her want to shake her shoulders in response and shimmy over to her.

With the two fans gaining more attention and their heated debate quickly becoming an argument, other’s step in to try and diffuse the situation with some trying to get in between, yelling at the two of them to calm down and stop this madness. Her eyes are focused on her friend as she side steps several of the people joining the group, but with her focus momentarily off the chaos, she doesn’t notice the way it escalates faster than anyone can anticipate. Several punches are thrown, causing some of the men to tumble into one another like dominoes.

By the time she realises that her friend is no longer dancing and is pointing to warn her, two of the men have stumbled into her with such force it knocks the breath from her as she loses her footing. Her arms stretch out to try and help but it’s pointless, her body slumps to the floor causing a blinding pain to shoot through her head as her vision blurs and the image of Sara rushing towards her is short lived.

Oscar’s arm wraps around Riqui’s shoulders as he continues to speak with Frenkie and Araújo, a large grin spreading out over the defender’s face as he becomes excited as he jokes. The team are elated, their voices bouncing through the tunnel and hallways, no doubt travelling back towards the frustrated away team but for a moment, Oscar doesn’t care. Once more at the top of the table, this couldn’t have gone any better.

“Oscar?” Eliana calls out to him, as she comes out of one of the rooms with her arms full. He towers above her, much like he does his girlfriend, and gives a soft smile as he says hello. “Your girlfriend said she’ll be meeting Sara, so won’t be in the carpark like usual.”

He holds back a chuckle, thinking so much for the continuation that was promised this morning but he could be persuasive if need be. It was by no means a title winning night but this was a huge feat and not something which should be ignored. Oscar would always try to take each match as it came, he was able to be more positive that way if he did, but he did want to celebrate a little because this was a big win.

He’s able to call out a “thank you” as he’s pulled into the locker room where the good mood continues. He watches as they dance around, music is playing from someone’s speaker and the temptation to get up and dance with them is overwhelming. Xavi stands and watches them celebrating, full grown men dancing around like children with pure happiness. It hung in the air, grasping everyone with a contagious hook in a tight grip.

The moment Oscar gets to his cubby, he checks his phone, eagerly anticipating a text message from her but there’s nothing there from her but a few texts from his family and standard app notifications. Swallowing back the disappointment as he replies to the others, he then drops his phone back onto his clothes and turns back to look at the room as he pulls his jersey from the back of his neck up and over and drops it by his feet as he begins to unlace his boots. He tries to take in as much as he can as Xavi talks about the match and the upcoming one. He’s half registering the words, half wanting to just go and shower and get out of here but he keeps himself rooted with what he hopes is an expression which is convincing enough to say he’s still paying attention.

The second he can, he’s up and stripping, desperate to feel the heat from the water and get the dirt and sweat from his body. He chuckles when Riqui appears in the stall beside him, sensing that something isn’t quite right and does his best to try and distract him, which thankfully for Oscar, works. Heading back from the shower, Oscar loses himself in conversation with Riqui about how he’d be spending the evening, the disappointment now at the furthest point in the back of his head - though it still lingers. His hand remains where the towel locks together, ensuring it doesn’t spring open while he’s walking, but tightens around the material when he sees the look upon Xavi’s face when he glances over. In deep conversation with another member of staff, he now glances over at the young defender before turning his back on him.

“That’s…weird.” Riqui whispers, looking up at Oscar as they make their way back to their places. A few of the other men nervously glance at the two of them and any uneasy feeling he had previously now rears its ugly head again. Unsure if his anxiety is simply getting the better of him, he keeps quiet and tries to dry himself off as much as he can before pulling on his clean clothes.

“He’s still looking,” Oscar hears him whisper but he keeps his back to his coach, not wanting to tempt fate and confirm that whatever they’re discussing is about him. Instinctively though, he reaches for his phone, still no message from her, not a location of where she and Sara are but there’s one message which makes his stomach begin to work, threatening to reverse and bring everything back up. He’s still trying to process the words when he hears his coach’s voice say

“Mingueza, I need to speak with you.”

If you’d like to be added/removed/update your URL, then please let me know here. Crossed out means that tumblr cannot find your blog at this time.

forever non smut: @yagetintoit |

Oscar Mingueza: @petitharicot |

#oscar mingueza one shot #oscar mingueza imagine #oscar mingueza blurb #oscar mingueza drabble #oscar mingueza fanfic #football one shot #football imagine #football blurb #football drabble #football fanfic #football fanfiction #footballer one shot #footballer imagine #footballer blurb #footballer drabble #footballer fanfic #footballer fanfiction

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ladynestaarcheron · 4 years ago

Text

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Two

ao3 - masterpost

here's chapter two! i had fun writing it, hope y'all enjoy!

---

Nesta might not enjoy it, but she knows how to give credit where credit is due, and there's no denying it: her sisters and their friends have thought this plan out thoroughly.

After they've calmed down enough, her sisters move on promptly to the next phase. Elain is off with those shadow wraiths of hers to pack up Nesta's meager belongings and Feyre is explaining to her what the upcoming week will look like.

"The important thing to remember whenever you feel overwhelmed is that the worst is already behind you and you've made it this far and you can continue on," Feyre says, clearly reciting something from memory. "And that we're always going to be there to help you."

She moves on to explain the detoxification process they're going to put her through. She dresses up the words in a healer's jargon and tries her best to be sensitive, but Nesta doesn't like to lie to herself and understands the crux of it: she's fucked up her body too much and can't even be trusted to just stop drinking so she has to be weaned off while under a few sets of eyes.

"So, who's going to be in the House with me?" Nesta asks when she's done.

"We know you don't need a keeper," Feyre says carefully. "If you'd prefer to be alone, you can be. We'll visit you every day, if you'd like. And the library's healer will be checking up on you, of course, as I said. But...do you need anyone in the House? Do you want anyone with you?"

"No," Nesta says, not entirely believing they're going to leave her to her own devices.

Feyre shrugs. "Then take the week to acclimate. We'll come by only as often as you want."

"Who's we?"

"Me and Elain," Feyre says firmly.

Perhaps there had been an argument about that. To her surprise, Nesta feels her throat burn at the thought of her sister standing up for her. No, she does not want any of the others coming to see her like this...she never wants to see them at all, actually.

"The staff has all been cleared out, too," Feyre continues. "The magic of the House should be enough...but of course, if anything's missing--anything at all. Just say so. Shops can't deliver up, but we'll bring anything you need the next day."

Nesta only nods.

"Well...we'll go up now, then, if that's all right with you. We'll have your things delivered later today. Elain will visit as soon as she can."

Elain does not want to visit, Nesta realizes. Not while Nesta's sick and seizing over the next few days.

"She doesn't have to come," Nesta says. "Neither do you," she adds.

"We'll...see how you feel."

Cassian and Rhysand are waiting for them in the dining room. She's not sure whom she wants to see less.

But Cassian's good enough that he isn't looking to humiliate her further and her sister's got her husband on a tight enough leash that mercifully, neither of them says anything. Feyre gives her an encouraging smile as she gently pushes her closer to Cassian and holds onto her shoulder.

The winnowing is instant, too quick to process, especially considering what comes after.

The drop is terrifying, even though it's only for a fraction of a second. Just as Nesta clenches her jaw to stop her instinctual scream, Cassian grabs her in his arms and holds her tightly against himself. The descent slows, and there's an undeniable calming effect of being pressed into something--someone--so warm and strong, but the fear doesn't leave her until she is out of the open air and standing with solid ground beneath her feet.

"All right," Feyre says, slipping out of Rhysand's embrace with approximately none of the urgency with which Nesta ripped herself away from Cassian. "Let me help you get settled."

What on earth that could possibly mean Nesta does not know, as she doesn't carry anything with her and it's not yet eleven in the morning. But it's becoming clear to her that there's another reason for Feyre's shifty eyes.

"Is the same room all right, then?" Feyre asks as they reach it. Two floors below the entrance, once with a door connecting her to Elain, but that's sealed off now. The only difference, as far as she can tell.

"It's fine," she says, peering out the window. She could not help but be taken by the view the first time she had stayed here, and now was no different. The sprawling city in the valley of these red mountains, the Sidra snaking through it, and the glittering sea beyond. It's beautiful. Nesta likes beautiful things.

"You didn't get to decorate it much last time, but if there's anything you'd like..." Feyre trails off.

Nesta doesn't answer. She doesn't feel like pretending to care about decor to help her stall.

Feyre understands, sighing and fiddling with her fingers. "All right, there's some more I have to tell you."

"Go on," Nesta says, not turning from the window.

"Well," she says. "As you know...your apartment...the whole building--subdivision, really--it's...it's..."

"Old," Nesta supplies. Which is not the word her sister was thinking of, she knows.

"Yes, old. Well. The council has decided that they want to...fix it up, so...they're...rebuilding it."

Nesta blinks. "Rebuilding it?"

"Yes."

"It's already built."

"Well. They're..."

"You're tearing it down," Nesta says flatly.

"No!" Feyre says, and Nesta can see her eyes widen in the faint reflection. "I mean...yes, it's being torn down, but they're building it right back up! And much nicer! Hot water and...it'll be right there waiting for you when you...we're keeping it for you. For if you want to stay there again. But you know..." Feyre allows herself a bit of hope in her voice. "You might not want to. Maybe you'd like a different house...if you want..."

What exactly the problem is with her staying in a newly refurbished apartment, Nesta doesn't know. But no matter. It's not as though she's attached to the old one, and if they're going to pay for her to stay there when she's done with this little experiment...fine. Hot water on demand would be nice, at any rate.

"All right," Nesta says.

Feyre waits a beat before saying, "There's more."

Nesta turns to face her.

Swallowing, Feyre says, "Now, I meant what I said about you not needing to be kept."

Here it is, then.

"But there are...two issues with that. Well...maybe three."

She crosses her arms. This should be good.

"Well, as I explained, the first week or so is going to be difficult. And since you don't want to stay in the library and the healer can't always be here and you might...need someone..."

"You're going to be staying the week?" Nesta says sharply, face heating. That--that's too much. She can't take that. The whole week--so Feyre will be able to hear her retching all night long--some of it won't even be because of the alcohol; Nesta often finds herself rushing to the toilet, she hasn't been able to keep a full meal down in over a year.

"No," Feyre says, red as she imagines she is now. "I'll visit if you want. But...no. I thought...no."

Good. That's--good.

"But you do need...someone...for the first week. To make sure...to call the healer, really, if something happens in the middle of the night. And..." Feyre pauses to take a deep breath. "You remember Briallyn." She's blunt, and doesn't phrase it like a question, so Nesta's too surprised to flinch. "Well," she says, taking her widened eyes as a yes, "she's...she remembers you. And she's..."

"She wants to kill me," Nesta says flatly.

"Yes," Feyre responds. "But you don't need to be scared. We're not going to let her get to you."

"You're still not telling me everything."

"No," Feyre says, sighing. "I'm sorry. It's...not easy for me to say. I'm easing into it. All right. She's...we have reason to believe she's formed an alliance within the Night Court."

At this Nesta blinks. "What, you mean..."

"Not any of us," Feyre says, startled. "Of course not! Of course--don't think that!"

She only gives a small shrug. The idea of Morrigan hating her enough to work with that wretched crone is not entirely unbelievable to her, but she doesn't say so to her sister. She can try to try, at least, with what all the pair of them are doing.

The left side of Nesta's lips tugs upwards slightly. Not even a half-smile, just a tic, but Nesta's actually pleased with herself. Not insulting her sister's friend aloud directly to spare Feyre's feelings isn't much, but for her, when she hasn't cared about anyone's feelings in so long...

Feyre isn't privy to all that has gone on in Nesta's mind and she is still trepidative. She takes another deep breath--always with the dramatics, this one, isn't she?--and says, "We have reason to believe Briallyn has formed an alliance with some rebel groups within Illyria. We think she's promised them a path to independence if they get you to her."

Whatever Nesta was expecting, it wasn't this. The Illyrians...she knows, of course, that they don't like her, don't trust her. But Rhysand--Cassian and Azriel--doesn't that mean anything?

"I didn't know they want independence," Nesta says, when she realizes Feyre is peering at her intently, expectantly.

"They want to be allowed to mutilate their females and take revenge on each other as they please," Feyre says. "They can't do that while we're in charge."

"I thought they...liked serving in the Night Court's army." Her cheeks flush the slightest bit--perhaps it's naïve, but leading the Illyrians for this court is the pride of Cassian's life. She had assumed they were the same way. That they didn't like answering to someone born at his low station, sure, but she hadn't known they resented being here.

"It's not everyone," she says. "There were some who sided with Amarantha, some who...listen, you don't need to worry about it. All you need to focus on is yourself right now."

"And," Nesta presses.

Feyre takes yet another deep breath. "Cassian's going to be staying here for a few days. Just a few days!" she hurries. "Just until you're through the worst of it! And just make sure the House is secure while you are here by yourself."

"Why couldn't the House be checked--"

"We didn't want to alert anyone of your presence," she explains. "It's a pretty fantastical theory, that Illyrians are colluding with citizens from Velaris to overthrow Rhys and me, but...stranger things have happened. And since Hybern managed to find you here before..."

She can appreciate that, at least.

"Just a few days."

"A week at most."

"You keep changing the rules."

Feyre raises her arms. "I know. But that's the last of it, I swear."

Nesta's expression does not falter. "I don't appreciate being manipulated."

"I'm not manipulating! I just...didn't want to overwhelm you all at once. I'm...easing you into things."

Nesta considers this for a beat. "Stop doing it right now."

"I will," she says immediately.

At this, Nesta softens, though perhaps imperceptibly.

"All right," Feyre says after Nesta does not bite back. "I'll...leave you to get settled. The healer's left you some tonics there--" she punctuates her words with an arm extended towards the table by Nesta's bedside--"for you to take before bed...and you know where the dining room is...I promise Cassian will stay out of your way. He just might check up on you before you go to sleep, and..."

"Lift me up out of my own sick in the middle of the night?"

Feyre flinches. "Help you. Just until the healer can come up."

Nesta turns back to the window. "So I suppose I'll see you in a week, then?"

"As soon as you'd like."

There's that. That's...something.

"Your things will be delivered tomorrow. If you need anything--"

"You said."

"I know." Feyre wrings her hands, her ring and bracelets clinking softly together. "And...while you're here...Rhys and the others won't just drop by unannounced. We won't--well--if a few weeks--I mean--"

"I've got it," she says.

"Right. Well. Good."

What to say to her sister? They've hardly ever embraced. The time they had started to grow closer is long gone now, both those bodies ashes of the past.

"I just want to say," Feyre starts softly, "that...I'm really proud of you for doing this. I know...trust that I know it isn't easy. But I promise you it will be worthwhile. You'll see."

By the time Nesta summons the nerve to turn around and ask about those innocents, how she had gotten through it, her sister is already gone.

Because Nesta had explored the House when she had been brought here by Rhysand so long ago, she does not feel the need to do so now. She knows where the library is, knows where her room and the dining room are, and those are all she intends to frequent.

She spends the rest of the morning in the library, but she is too restless to keep her focus on a book. After finding herself staring blankly at a wall for the fifth time, eyes refusing to fixate on the words in her lap, she shuts the book and tightly and places it on a table. She doesn't know what she expected. It's been months since she's managed to read. No romance novels for her. No romance, either--not that that had ever happened. But once, she would have thought that the amount of sex she's been having would be linked to...something.

Her life has become an endless stream of not this, not now. Anything to get her out of her own head. Bitter alcohol--the kind she actually likes, gin or white wine, never seems to wipe her mind clean--and sex with strangers. And it works perfectly, because those things befit a lady of her station. That's how the loveless, useless, dregs of society spend their days: drinking, fucking, gambling away someone else's money--

"Nothing to read?"

Nesta startles.

"Sorry," Cassian says, walking up to her and sitting in the big armchair opposite. "Thought you heard me."

It takes her a moment to find her voice. "Did I give any indication of the sort?"

He grins. "Just assumed you were ignoring me."

Would that I could, she thinks darkly. But who could ignore him? Too big, too loud, too...just too much. Too much person for one body.

"Been a while," he says casually.

She doesn't answer, reaching through the drink-stained memories to find the last time she had seen him, besides this morning. Must've been...summer solstice. They had barely spoken, like all their other interactions since the war. She can count them on one hand.

And she does. Far more frequently then she admits to herself.

"Just thought you'd like to know I've finished securing the House."

Nesta nods once, absently. Perhaps this was a mistake. After all, they had thought the House was secure last time, hadn't they? What if they're attacked again? These priestesses...because of her. If they know that Briallyn is going to try and snatch her, that she's formed an alliance with Illyrians who can fly into the veranda, is this really worth the risk?

"Don't," Cassian says, voice low. She tenses as he leans closer to her. "You have a right to be here as much as any of them. Maybe you should have been here all along."

She catches the guilt in his tone, in his eyes, and blinks. That's...not what she had been expecting. And not what she's prepared to deal with.

She stands. "I was informed that you'd stay out of my way."

Just like that, any tenderness snaps out of his posture. He's standing before her, too, wings slightly flared.

"Do forgive me, Lady Nesta," he says with a mocking bow. "I'll let you get back to your riveting activity of staring at the wall in a room by yourself."

She has to say something before he leaves; can't let him end this with her on the losing hand. But she's quick on her feet, even if she never knows where she stands with him.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your perching on the window opposite," she answers, voice icy. A blind shot in the dark, as she hadn't heard him at all. But it appears as though it lands, as his eyes grow even darker and he reins in a snarl as he stalks out.

Nesta loosens a breath as he leaves.

Riling up Nesta like that is never smart, but it's particularly stupid today. Not the least of which being Feyre had specifically ordered him not to.

Cassian tries to force himself to focus on the knives he's throwing, but he's too worked up to even admire the shiny new blades Rhys had purchased especially for this new training center on the top of the House.

"So you have a place to blow off steam," he had explained to him. Away from Feyre, of course, who no longer tolerated any implication that spending time with Nesta could be...difficult.

"It's only a week," he had said. He trains every day, but the refurbished personal arena is unnecessary for that, considering he's supposed to be keeping the House secure for the duration of his stay.

Rhys had only shrugged casually. Cassian knew what he had thought. That it might be more. That he would want to stay...that she would want him to stay.

He catches his and Feyre's snagging glances and innocent suggestions, but he dutifully ignores them each time. Nothing he feels on the subject matters, after all, because Nesta doesn't want anything to do with him.

He knows he shouldn't have approached her. Especially not considering he's supposed to make sure she eats something for dinner and she's not going to want to talk to him twice in a day.

But he just--he can't stay away. Not when she's so close and so...lost. Alone. Sitting in the library, unable to disappear into one of those romances she likes so much--unable to enjoy herself! It's too much to ask of him. To just watch her like that and not say anything. Just go about his day, ignoring the fact that...she needs him.

He does his best to ignore the sneering voice in his mind as the thought crosses his mind. She does need him. Or, rather, she needs someone and he can be that person. He can be exactly what she needs.

If she'd just let him.

And he had intended to be kind and patient. He had started that way, hadn't he? Trying to soothe her obvious fears and insecurities.

She hadn't wanted that. He should have known she didn't want that. Of course it's too much for her, too smothering, so she had shut him out. He knows that. He knows why she does that. But...it still hurt. Every time she rejects him, it hurts.

Not about you, he reminds himself. Feyre hadn't said the words outright, but she had made herself clear. Not that Cassian would ever...he wants the best for her, too. Of course he does. He's not going to do anything to jeopardize her recovery.

Starting right now.

It should be easy, he tells himself. He's gone months without seeing her in the past. Not to mention more than five hundred years before she was born. He can do this. Just...she's in the library and she's safe and she'll eat lunch if she wants to and if not, fine. She doesn't have to. She's been getting so little food these days they don't want to throw her back into it, anyway. Soup at dinner will be enough.

But feeling her presence...knowing she's there, a few storeys below him...in the state she's in, no less....

He manages. What other choice does he have? So he fills his time on the top of the House, doing rounds every so often--not looking in the windows of the House trying to find her--until dinner time, where he paces the dining room like an idiot.

Until she comes in.

She hasn't changed clothes since earlier, and she looks, if possible, worse. Logically he knows that she can't have lost weight since this morning, and the less alcohol in her system must be better, but...her cheeks are definitely hollower. Eyes more sickly. Brilliant, daring, cunning, beautiful gray eyes...lifeless.

Don't screw this up, he tells himself sternly. She needs to eat dinner tonight because she needs to take a tonic along with it. If he upsets her, she won't eat.

But he can't--he can't play this game like she can. Not when she's this far gone. So he says something. Doesn't know what, just knows he has to fill the silence.

"Do you like soup?"

Wonderful. Perhaps the stupidest thing he could ask her.

She ignores him as she sits at the head of the table, making his blood boil. Would she just look at him?

But his anger melts as he watches her gear up to eat. All the strength she has left focused on forcing her arm to extend, her fingers clutching her spoon so tightly her knuckles are a white that scares him. She swallows tightly before she puts the spoon in her mouth, that elegant neck of hers tensing and her delicate, too-protruding collarbone rising with it.

She steels herself one final time as she moves the spoon into her mouth and winces as it goes down.

"Not particularly," she says softly.

It takes him a few moments to realize she's answered him.

He clears his throat. "Well--we could get you something else?" Surely none of the food the House has put out for him will settle right with her, but...toast, maybe? Even if it doesn't have the nutrients she so desperately needs...perhaps she'll take a vegetable spread. Or blended fruit.

"It's no matter."

You matter. The words are right on his tongue, and he has to shove a forkful of steak into his mouth to keep him from letting them out. That might be too much for her. He can't scare her off again.

"Strong flavors...don't sit well with me." She stifles a flinch as she takes another spoonful and downs half a glass of ice water.

That's something, at least. Rehydrating herself properly is important.

"We can dilute it." She'd have to have more of it, of course, but perhaps it'd be worth it.

"It's no matter," she says again.

Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, and he's certainly not going to let it continue. But...fine. Let her have this soup tonight. But he'll find something she likes to eat and can stomach soon enough.

They are silent for another few minutes. Cassian pretends not to stare at her and she pretends not to notice. He's well into his second helping before she gets close to finishing her bowl.

"Here," he says, when she only has a few spoonfuls left, and hands her the vial the healer had given him.

"What is this?"

He hesitates. "Mock liquor." To mimic the effects of alcohol without actually putting any in her system. To let her sleep easier.

"Oh. Feyre said. She left some for me next to my bed."

"No, that's an anti-toxin." To push her body in the right direction of purging itself without hurting too much. Lowers the risk of seizing.

"Oh."

He wants to punch himself at the blank look on her face. She has to go through this because they let it get this far. He let it get this far.

But at the very least, she is not going through it alone. Not if it kills him.

Nesta swallows the mock liquor quickly and then finishes off her second glass of water. Picking up her napkin and neatly setting it aside, she rises, and says, "I'm going to bed."

"Good night," he says, though they both know she won't have one and he'll be seeing her in a few hours.

How miserable it is to watch her leave. She's going to have a painful night, and she's probably also scared about Briallyn or the Illyrians attacking her, and she feels alone. He just knows she feels alone.

She's sick and it's his fault. He'd promised her and he'd failed her.

But no more. He's making it up to her. He'll do what he can tonight and this week and for all the rest of it...he's going to keep her safe. Going to weed out every single rebel if he has to go door to door in every camp in Illyria. Nesta has faced her last external battle. He's going to make sure of that.

When she opens the door to her bedroom, there are flames flickering in the fireplace. Flickering, burning...crackling, snapping.

She's not sure how long she stands there at the threshold, before she finds her voice, broken and small, and says, "Could you turn that off, please?"

She doesn't know who she's talking to, how the magic of the House works, but something must be listening, because it dies down. Nesta crosses the room to the windows and cracks one open, enough to stick her head out and breathe in the cold air, ridding the scent of death from her nostrils. She stays there until she's shivering.

"Don't light fires again," she says, voice not as weak as before. "Please," she tacks on.

Nesta's never put so much thought into preparing for bed before, but she knows she has to think about it tonight. The tonics and withdrawal will work hand in hand to make sure she'll wake up ill or seizing or any number of miserable things, and then Cassian will rush in and stay with her until some healer she doesn't know does. She can't decide which is worse.

That's not true. Cassian is worse.

So she picks out a more modest nightgown than she normally would. It's autumn, anyway, and with no extra warmth from a fire, and so high up...not so bad. She might've preferred a pant set, but she's certainly not going to wear those tonight. The shin-length dress and heavy socks will have to do.

Now there is the matter of her hair. Once, she had worn it loose or sometimes braided to sleep, but since Hybern's soldiers had ripped her out of her home by her unbound locks...no. She wears it up.

But they'll know. They'll know she put her hair up to go to bed, and they'll wonder why. And she can't stomach them wondering why.

There's a silk hair tie in the boudoir. Let Cassian think, at least, that there's some vain reason for tying her hair in a bun for bed. Let him not bring it up in mocking, or to her sisters. Let the healer be too professional to say anything.

She hates this. She's already subject to more scrutiny than she'd ever, ever wanted. As Feyre's sister, as a freak of nature. And now it'll be even worse.

What have they told people, she wonders, as she swallows the tonic Feyre's left for her (mostly tasteless, if a bit bitter). That she's been sent to the seaside for her health? That she's doing something for the Night Court in some other land? Or worst of all, the truth?

She wishes, not for the first time, that she could just get a grip on herself. Just get over everything as swiftly as Elain has, or even made her own happiness like Feyre. Goodness knows she was never really going to have it there, below the Wall. She was never made for that. And now she's been Made, and no one knows what for.

The thoughts are too miserable to wallow in for long, and luckily, she doesn't have to. One of the tonics sends her to a deep, claiming sleep, soon after climbing into bed.

Or so she thinks, until a few hours later, when she is up and sweating and gasping and doesn't even make it all the way to the bathroom before collapsing on the floor, and a bucket appears in front of her, and all the soup and tea and water from yesterday is being violently, violently, violently, squeezed out of her. Like it's someone else's doing, like she can't even control her own body.

She doesn't hear Cassian come in, just feels him lift her slightly.

"It's all right," he says, calm. He doesn't whisper, which feels almost obscene in the darkness. "You're all right. The healer's on her way, Nesta."

She doesn't answer. She wants to disappear. He's stroking her back...can he feel how thin she is? Of course he can. But can he feel how weak, how pathetic? She's not stopped shaking. She tries to tense to stop it, can he tell?

But then she throws herself forward as she's sick all over again, and it's not even worth it, she just wants to be left alone to die in peace, nothing is worth this, nothing, nothing, nothing.

"Stay with me," he says, one hand on her waist and another rubbing along the length of her arm. "Here she is, Nesta."

"Good night, Lady Nesta," says a soft, female voice. "My name is Daphne. I'm the healer for all the girls at the library. I'm a priestess, too."

She's one of the girls then, she means. Or she was. What had it been to send her to this place? Had she been a healer before?

But again, Nesta says nothing.

"I'm just going to do some quick checking," Daphne says, in her soft voice. "Just to make sure you're all right." She settles her fingertips on different points on Nesta's body, almost too fast to register with all her shaking. Temples, pulse points, abdomen. "All right," she says. "How do you feel?"

After a few seconds, it becomes clear Nesta has to answer. "Fine," she manages, voice barely a rasp.

"Brave girl," Daphne coos, not unkindly. Nesta wants to die all over again. "Do you feel very cold?"

Nesta thinks for a moment, trying to reach out to her whole body. It's an effort not to curl up into a dark spot in her mind and just let it all happen.

"Not very," she says. A little cool, maybe.

"Do you feel very hot?"

"No."

"Good," she says. "It looks as though you're reacting very well to the tonic. I think the symptoms we're seeing now will be the ones we see over the next few days."

Which is a polite way of saying that Nesta's going to keep vomiting and sweating and shaking, but at least it won't be any worse.

"Drink this. It'll help you settle to sleep again."

"Do you think she'll wake up again?" Cassian asks, his arms still around her.

"No, I think she'll sleep till morning. The tonics are good like that. Help to regulate the system and reactions. Do you need help with anything else, Lady Nesta?"

"I can help her," Cassian says, when it becomes clear she isn't going to reply.

"Just make sure she drinks another glass of water before falling asleep."

"I will. Good night. Thank you."

"Of course, General. Good night."

Cassian sits there, stroking her back, for another few minutes, before she summons the strength to shift slightly out of his hold. He doesn't hesitate, moving seamlessly to help her stand. He walks her to the bathroom so she can wash her mouth.

"You have to drink this," he says, handing her a glass of water.

"I know."

He opens his mouth again, but she cuts him off.

"I don't want to hear it."

She can hear his frown in his voice. "You don't know what I was going to say."

Raising her eyes, she catches his gaze in the mirror. "You want to assure me that I'm not pathetic."

He blinks. "I wasn't going to...do you want me to do that?"

Nesta sets down her toothbrush. "I just said I didn't." She can feel the tonic already starting to work as her head clears. She experimentally eases her weight off the counter. Yes, she can stand on her own now. She takes the glass from him and starts to drink slowly.

"I wasn't aware that I needed to assure you of that. Is...do you think that?"

She only sips her water.

His eyes widen. "Do you think I think that?"

Nesta says to no one, "Could I have more water, please?"

Cassian's eyebrows quirk slightly as he watches the House's magic respond, but then he says, taking her chin, "Nesta. Look at me."

Well, when he's given her no choice.

"I have never in my life thought you were pathetic."

How, she wonders as they stand there like that. How could he possibly be telling the truth? For he is strong and sturdy and commanding and she had to hang onto the bathroom counter for support as she washed the sick out of her mouth after beginning a withdrawal process from alcohol.

And yet, somehow, she knows he isn't lying.

"You can get back to bed yourself, then," he says, dropping his hand. "You know where I am if you need me. Good night."

He doesn't wait for her to reply, just turns and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.

His warmth lingers in the room far after he's gone, as does his touch on her face. She loses count of how many times she traces over it before she falls asleep again.

#acosf fic #nessian fic #nesta archeron #fatwd #i liked writing this one and i can't wait for the next one<3 #would love to hear your thoughts!!<3

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esther-dot · 3 years ago

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I don't think romance is big plot in ary@ arc like Sansa. She didn't share those ideologies and romanticism like her sister. Yes she does like flowers but she didn't associate it with romance mostly nature. She does like songs and story because of adventure in it and for inspiration like Nymeria. I don't think she understood what she felt for gendry. When she claimed that Ned loved Cat because she was offended to believe that her father didn't love her mother. It isn't about romance.

(continuation of this convo)

I agree, and I think the way songs are mentioned in their chapters shows off their different personalities and worldviews, as well as offer insight into their troubled relationship. I didn't mean Ary@ was somehow wrong. The girls are simply different and that's a point the author is making. Sansa not only loves the songs, she thinks life is meant to be a song, so there is genuine frustration and confusion that it isn't:

She turned to walk off, but Ary@ shouted after her, "They won't let you bring Lady either." She was gone before Sansa could think of a reply, chasing Nymeria along the river.

Alone and humiliated, Sansa took the long way back to the inn, where she knew Septa Mordane would be waiting. Lady padded quietly by her side. She was almost in tears. All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs. Why couldn't Ary@ be sweet and delicate and kind, like Princess Myrcella? She would have liked a sister like that. (AGOT, Sansa I)

And then we have Ary@'s perspective in which songs were just another painful reminder that Sansa excelled where she didn't:

So the singer played for her, so soft and sad that Ary@ only heard snatches of the words, though the tune was half-familiar. Sansa would know it, I bet. Her sister had known all the songs, and she could even play a little, and sing so sweetly. All I could ever do was shout the words. (ASOS, Arya IV)

I’d think that would frustration would feed into her dismissal of romantic songs, as well as the fact that she can't identify with the romantic ladies Sansa adores:

I smell snow and smoke and pine needles. I smell the stables. I smell Hodor laughing, and Jon and Robb battling in the yard, and Sansa singing about some stupid lady fair. (AFFC, Ary@ II)

but to Sansa, those same ladies and songs, they give her strength.

"I'll come," she promised.

Ser Dontos disappeared. She could hear him huffing and puffing as he began the descent. Sansa listened to the tolling of the bell, counting each ring. At ten, gingerly, she eased herself over the edge of the cliff, poking with her toes until they found a place to rest. The castle walls loomed large above her, and for a moment she wanted nothing so much as to pull herself up and run back to her warm rooms in the Kitchen Keep. Be brave, she told herself. Be brave, like a lady in a song. (ASOS, Sansa V)

My favorite contrast, the one that really makes it clear who these girls are is this:

Perhaps I will die too, she told herself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to her. If she flung herself from the window, she could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would write songs of her grief. Her body would lie on the stones below, broken and innocent, shaming all those who had betrayed her. Sansa went so far as to cross the bedchamber and throw open the shutters … but then her courage left her, and she ran back to her bed, sobbing. (AGOT, Sansa VI)

Whereas Ary@'s thought is:

He is a man of the Night's Watch, she thought, as he sang about some stupid lady throwing herself off some stupid tower because her stupid prince was dead. The lady should go kill the ones who killed her prince. (AFFC, Cat of the Canals)

I mean, how can you not love that that's Ary@'s solution? Hilarious. Anyway, it's just very clear that one girl is a romantic character and the other isn't. Ary@ calls romantic songs stupid and Bran calls kissing stories stupid. Those two like adventure, not romance. That's not a judgment of them, it's just a contrast.

#ask dot

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selfships-in-spanish · 3 years ago

Text

The Queen of Demons 4/?

Pairing: Erwin Smith x OC, Levi Ackerman x OC

Rating: Mature (the rating will go up as the story advances! But it will totally be explicit ;D I even have some smut chapters already half written woooo! But right now just in case)

Warnings: None for now, but sexist and misogynist upbringing (Eva's father is a huge asshole).

Word Count: 8885

ALSO POSTED ON AO3

A/N: FUCKING FINALLY. I was so stuck and had a severe writer's block, but here it is! Part 4! I feel like my writing went down a bit but I hope to make up for it on the next one. Finished, not perfect! I hope you enjoy this one and were we can see a bit more of the vets and the 104 kids ôô

CHAPTER 4: WINTER BLOOM

The pale morning rays of sunlight woke the Princess up, mumbling and turning to her side. Eva heard the distant chirps of birds flying by, as well as the sounds of the village being already busy. The neighing of horses, carts being pulled around, setting up the shops, the rooster screeching…

Wait.

That’s not what she usually woke up to.

Back home she only heard the birds and some maids, especially Flora when she would come barging in and opening the thick curtains of her windows, letting the sun hit right in Princess’ face as she knew how much Eva despised being woken up like this, hollering: “What–”

“–A great morning this is, your Royal Sleepy Highness!”

Ah, there she was.

Eva attempted a reply but curled up further into the duvet and blankets.

“Oh c’mon, Princess! We’ve got a busy day today! Lots of exciting things!”

“Exciting for you.” Eva mumbled covering her head with the thick bedding.

Flora snorted, rolling her eyes. Without any kind of remorse, Flora grabbed the end of the duvet and blankets and unceremoniously pulled them off the Princess, enjoying the irritated groan she let out as Eva tried to blindly find something to cover herself with.

“Rise and shine!” Flora said in a singsong, stepping out of the Princess’ reach as she tried to kick her leg.

“How can you be so happy and chirpy so early in the morning?” Eva gave up, sighing and rolling out of the oddly comfortable bed; Eva fell asleep earlier than she anticipated.

“Oh, spare me the dramatics! We gotta get you to eat breakfast and prepare you for—“

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, sure thing Princess, as if you don’t gobble up like a duck when you are nervous.” Flora handed Eva her robe, guiding her to the bathroom where a basin already filled with water and a cloth awaited her.

Once her morning routine finished, Eva padded to the living room where breakfast had been already served. It smelled heavenly.

“I don’t gobble like a duck.” Eva sat down, huffing displeased.

The Princess served herself some warm bread, eyeing the jams and butter with a watering mouth. Flora set a steaming cup next to her before sitting down in front of the Princess.

“Sorry, not coffee yet.”

Eva sighed.

The Princess cut some more bread for her handmaiden, sharing the spreading knife after she was done with it. On the first bite Eva hummed, satisfied with the taste and texture. Freshly baked bread was the absolute best. Flora leisurely poured sugar over the butter, her smile widening at the sugary mess. Eva frowned, chewing.

“It’s still a wonder how your teeth haven’t rotten out yet.”

“Ah, family thing for sure!” Flora took a heartly bite of the sweet monstrosity in her hands. “Gramps still has his teeth intact and covers everything in sugar when he gets his hands on some.”

Eva’s lips curled into a grimace.

“I love sweets but I don't think that is healthy.”

“You just don’t appreciate the flavour.”

“I sincerely doubt there’s any flavour left in that.” Eva nodded towards Flora’s loaf of bread.

The handmaid shrugged, biting down on it and making a show just to irk the Princess further. Eva exaggerated a gag which made Flora giggle.

Three knocks on the heavy wooden door announced the Eldians coming to pick her up. Eva sighed as she watched Flora stand up from the chair next to the Princess and walk to the door, opening it with a short bow and a smile. Eva sat straighter as the looming and bulky figures of the Eldian warriors came into her view, entering the lodgings provided temporarily for her and her handmaiden. They were the same as yesterday, the giant called Mike, the female warrior that caught her attention, Nanaba, and another man Eva couldn’t remember the name right now.

The three warriors bowed, Nanaba and the other warrior waiting right next to the open door as Mike approached her. The giant warrior waved to the door, the message of “you have to go outside” quite clear in his movements. His face did not give away any of his thoughts, keeping a neutral expression as he watched the Princess stand up and follow him, Flora right behind her with giddy steps.

Flora should have been born a Princess or a noble, her happy and open disposition towards everything and everyone would win anyone over, as well as the way she found happiness in the little things of life. How Eva wished she had Flora’s positive mindset.

“Alright, ready for your big day?” the handmaiden asked in hushed whispers, something both women mastered from years of court banquets.

“Of course not. I want to run right back inside.”

“You’re such a big—” Flora was cut off by Eva’s gasp.

Flora raised her eyes just in time to see the giant warrior leaning way too close to the Princess’ personal space and… sniff. The Princess had turned around, disbelief and stupefaction etched on her face at the nerve this big, brute man had to go sniffing people without… without their consent. Eva found it uncouth, impolite, and her cheeks blazed in indignation.

Mike leaned back, humming, pleased at something Eva wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Nanaba immediately chastised the big man, kicking his leg and nagging at him as he shrugged, crossing his arms and looking slightly guilty. At the scene unfolding right outside the house, people began to stop and watch, and Eva felt her blood run cold at the sound of the Chief’s laugh coming from down the stairs. Hans and Friederich were already there, and the youngest of the two brothers was about to march upstairs, his displeased frown deepening. The Chief nodded to Moblit, motioning him to rush to them and clear misunderstandings. Levi rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue.

“Your Highness, please accept our deepest apologies.” Moblit hastily bowed, an apologetic smile in his lips. “Mike here has this habit of… uh, sniffing people.”

“Is he implying I smell?” Eva’s mouth was pulled into a tight line. Flora did not spend as long as she did grooming her and using those soaps and perfumes Eva loved for this man to mock her handmaiden’s efforts. Besides, she kept her hygiene up to date, thank you very much.

“No! Not at all, Your Highness. Mike has a great and sharp sense of smell, like a… ah, what’s the name... ah, wolf! Like a wolf, and although I do concede that it may be considered rude, he just does it from force of habit.”

Eva raised her brow skeptically.

“He meant no disrespect, Your Highness. It’s his way to say that he uh… he welcomes you.” Moblit ventured a quick glance towards the man in question, muttering something as he almost imperceptibly nodded towards the Princess with wide impatient eyes.

Mike huffed, but muttered something back to Moblit in a deep voice. Next to him, Nanaba nodded, pleased.

“He apologises, Your Highness, and compliments you.” that piqued Eva’s curiosity. “He says you smell comforting, of lavender and honey. That’s something he appreciates, with his sharp sense of smell he can easily get overwhelmed by strong scents.”

“Ah, that must be troublesome.” Eva turned to face Mike and inclined her head. “My apologies for acting harshly.” But Eva still thought her response was totally justified. A warning beforehand would have been nice, and she still had her pride.

Mike answered with one curtly bow of his head of his own.

“Indeed.” Moblit decided the issue was resolved and lifted his arm towards the Chief and the Gottesreichan Princes, watching the whole ordeal with amused expressions sans Friederich. He still looked murderous. “Please, after you, Your Highness.”

That shocked Eva. Normally back at Gottesreich she would walk behind the men and respectfully listen to whoever was talking, and even after visiting other countries, that rule still applied, or maybe they weren’t willing to go against Gottesreich. Either way, Eva was taught to never disrespect its citizens and rulers when visiting foreign kingdoms from her brothers, and the Princess always willed herself to follow the Kingdom’s culture and customs out of respect, despite what her father said on more than one occasion. Her brothers taught her to be respectful, and she would not ignore them, and even less be an embarrassment for her brothers. Summoning with all her will a composed mask on her face, Eva dared to take the lead and walk down the snow covered stairs to where her brothers and Chief awaited. Flora walked right behind her, always keeping a watchful eye to her skirts and cloak, in case they may get in the way.

The crunching of her steps on the snow were deafening for the Princess. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch. She was used to having all eyes on her, from courts and dances and banquets, from nobles and princes trying to win her father’s good graces, but having the people of Eldia stop and observe every single move she was doing felt suffocating. One slip and she was probably doomed in their eyes.

Eva stopped right in front of the men, bowing respectfully.

“Good morning, my Lord. Brothers.” Moblit’s voice softly translated for the Chief, who didn’t take his eyes away from her the entire descent.

The Chief returned the greeting, bowing as well.

“I hope you had a pleasant sleep, your Highness.”

“I did. Thank you, my Lord.” Eva did not find the need to tell him how she tossed and turned around, her mind restless, musing over yesterday’s events –his touch– or how she missed her pillows back at the palace. The Chief seemed pleased, although there was a glint in his eyes that he most certainly caught the lie. Damn it.

“If there is anything we can offer to help you get settled and to further accommodate you, please do not hesitate to say so, your Highness. I understand it may be unpleasant being so far away from home and your people.” Eva was slightly taken aback at how the Chief seemed to be understanding of her situation, contrary to what she had heard and been told a husband would be once she married. The Princess didn’t want to let her hopes up in case the fall was to be harder than it would already be.

“Thank you for your consideration, my Lord. I will do so in case I need it.” Eva knew she wouldn’t say a thing, her stubbornness always playing against her favour.

The Chief seemed pleased enough with her answer. He turned slightly so he was facing the three Gottesreichan siblings, addressing the rest of the foreign party as well. Moblit translated for them all, and Flora managed to contain her excited hops when the Chief officially announced the start of their walk around the village.

Much to the Princess’ dismay, the Chief had offered up his right arm for her to hold on as they began the tour, an encouraging smile on his lips as if saying “go on, I will not harm you”. Eva had hoped her brothers would keep him distracted enough so she could trail behind and listen, observing her surroundings, but no such luck. It seemed like here in Eldia they weren’t as reticent of closeness as they were in Gottesreich, and women were treated differently.

The Chief was still as big and massive as the Princess remembered from yesterday’s banquet, thinking it was her own nerves and wine that exaggerated her memories, but the way her hands had trouble meeting on the Chief’s arm told her otherwise. The Eldian leader kept a slow pace, mindful of his companion and her shorter legs, as he began explaining their village and the way it was structured.

The Eldian architecture was entirely different from the one used in Gottesreich, as well as the distribution of the village itself. Where Eva was used to narrower streets with houses sharing walls, clustered, messy (although the closer to the castle, the better were planned the streets and districts), mossy cobblestones, puddles around the corners with barrels and wooden crates, the townspeople walking as merchants and shopkeepers yelled their offers to the passersby, pennants hanging from side to side of the streets with the Kingdom’s colours… Here in Eldia the streets were wider, the buildings lower in height which gave a sense of the town being less claustrophobic since you could easily see the scenery and the sky. Wooden fences, dark roofs made of slates, the streets made of the earth itself with grass heartily growing on both sides and wooden planks on the floor to help create a more visible path on certain parts, but one could clearly see the cart’s marks as well as the horses pulling them.

Although everything was covered in thick layers of snow, Eva had no doubts it would be a magnificent sight in spring, with the imposing mountains surrounding the village and the vast fields littered with the farmer’s homes composing a picture deserving of a painting. It was rurally beautiful. Different, more primitive, if she took into consideration her own Kingdom’s ways, but efficient. The Princess was sure this level of coordination would not be able to be achieved without years of honing this lifestyle, and it honestly intrigued her, her curiosity piqued. Eva hoped this curiosity and wonder for the novelty wouldn’t disappear quickly and would stay with her until her situation was more bearable, or grew accustomed to.

Moblit’s gentle voice guided the Gottesreichan guests through the Chief’s explanations, looking at the direction where the Chief pointed with his free hand while speaking, often stopping to further go into details about their dwellings, their storage facilities and barns, the marketplace with the villagers already busy with their daily chores. The town’s market was lively and uniquely beautiful, wooden stalls standing proud with all the goods on display. There was all kinds of variety, going from food to parchment and candles and clothes, to jewelry or tools for butchers or farmers.

The Princess’ heart thumped wildly on her chest, trying her hardest not to show her rising panic at the fact that she was walking around the village on the Chief’s arm, having everyone’s eyes on her as they kept their tour. The villagers stopped their chores midway to stare at them, whispering and chattering as they went through. Some respectfully greeted their Chieftain, mostly the warriors patrolling the streets doing a particular salute upon seeing them, but the villagers smiled and bowed, the children present doing the same as they tried to contain their laughs while not being able to keep their eyes off the scene in front of them. The Chief continued their walk after answering the greetings.

An excited giggle, followed by a shriek of what sounded like a name, startled the guests and their hosts, even. The Gottesreichan soldiers took a defensive stance, ready to pounce on the source of it as well as attack if necessary; their priority was defending the monarch's lives at any costs. Eva couldn’t help the scared jump her body did upon hearing the childish laugh and running steps on frozen ground getting nearer, gasping loudly in fear and tightly clutching the Chief’s arm with her tiny hands as she unconsciously leaned on him, seeking protection.

The Chief was ready to make her stand behind him and face the attacker, but stopped immediately upon seeing it was one of the children from before. The boy had rosy cheeks, the colour intensified by both the running and the cold, and probably the excitement too, and had a wide smile that was missing a few teeth. The kid was holding something in his hands, hidden behind his back, and with the eagerness of a child waiting for the exact moment an adult would pay them attention to show them what they got in their hands, the little boy almost shoved his possession to the Chieftain and the Princess.

Once he saw what the boy had in his hands, the Chief visibly relaxed, shoulders shaking in silent amusement at how a little kid got the best of them all. The Princess still looked uncertain, clutching and pressing herself into him. Eyes wide and breath a little bit short, Eva looked down at the kid’s hands. He was holding a… flower?

A flower in the middle of winter? How was that even possible?

The kid kept his eyes on the Princess, urging her to take his present with quick words and lifting his hands further up, his smile widening. Eva thought herself of a stupid fool. How could she have been scared of a child? What harm could he do? Unless… No, unless nothing. This was a little boy offering a flower, a beautiful one that Eva had never seen before. Father would not tarnish the good intentions of a child.

Upon not having, still, immediate response from the Princess, the kid hopped on his spot, irremediably making Eva show a timid smile; she could never resist a toothy grin and sparkling eyes.

One look at the mother told Eva how this was not planned and how the kid had ran off on his own volition. Everyone on the street stopped dead on their tracks and silently watched the exchange, not even daring to breathe. The mother’s wide eyes jumped from the Princess to the Chief, then to his child, not knowing if she should run and apologise to their guests or wait and have faith in their leader and his soon to be wife.

Eva understood quickly this was to be a decisive moment for her and her stay in Eldia. One wrong movement that led to misinterpretation could be beyond disastrous. She had to be good, she had to fulfill her duty and be a good wife and—

Eva took a deep breath. Focus. Don’t succumb into panic.

Fighting her burning cheeks out of her own embarrasment, Eva let go of her almost deadly grip on the Chief’s arm and faced the little boy alone. Keeping her smile on her lips, Eva approached the child with small steps, stopping right in front of him and elegantly folding her gloved hand on top of the other. The kid kept talking at a dizzying speed, and when he noticed how the Princess furrowed her brows in confusion, while still maintaining her smile, he understood not a word he was saying reached her.

Humming to himself while thinking hard, the kid’s face illuminated itself when an idea came to him. He hastily pointed to the flower and then to the Princess, practically shoving it in her hands. Eva looked down and then up at the kid, pointing at herself with a questioning look. The child nodded effusively, shoving the poor flower again.

Eva couldn’t help the soft chuckle upon his enthusiasm, never being able to resist a kid. The Princess took it, making sure to do a slightly exaggerated bow, lifting slightly the skirts and careful enough to not crumple the flower, so the little boy understood her gratitude. The kid happily ran back to his mother, skipping and laughing as he began talking at that incredible speed while his mother looked beyond relieved. Eva did a curtly bow to her too, trying to show the mother no offence of any kind was taken.

Returning to the Chief’s side, Eva brought the flower to her nose. She always did that whenever she came by one, out of habit, and was surprised by the faint but sweet fragrance it emitted. Eva would have to ask about them, knowing Gottesreich did not have any flowers blooming in winter.

Just when they were about to resume their walk, more excited giggles and shouts could be heard. Other children ran away from their mothers and fathers, holding the same flower in their tiny hands. Eva found herself surrounded by eager eyes and smiles, shoving their flowers up so the Princess would pick them up too. Some would tug at her cloak so she would pick theirs first, others jumping on their spot, other’s patiently waiting their turn as they marvelled on the fabric and embroidery of her pale blue winter dress.

The Princess ended up with a small bouquet of flowers, the children shouting and running happily back to their parents once they delivered their gifts. She did not know what to do with them now, and frantically looked at the Chief and her brothers, then to Flora when her siblings had confused expressions, for a clue. The Chieftain had an amused glint in his eyes, but half his mind was busy thinking about something. Finally, Flora took pity on her Princess and walked up to her with a smile on her lips.

“Let’s show off those gifts, shall we, your Highness?”

Flora expertly secured the flowers on the Princess’s up braid, the pure white and calm blue of the flowers an unexpected but welcome complement to the Princess’s own choice of wardrobe. Moblit later explained, upon inquiring about the flowers herself, that they were a special kind of flower that bloomed on their woods only during the cold season, earning the name of “winter miracle”. It also symbolized the welcoming of new people into their tribe, as its sister in the warmer weather.

Eva was touched, knowing not that those kids wanted to welcome her upon hearing she was to become one of them soon. The Princess only wished the adults would have the same feelings towards her.

Thankfully the walk around the village suffered no more incidents and surprises, and Eva was able to delight herself on the market and what it had to offer; she definitely had to go there often and take her sweet time. The quills looked absolutely exquisite, and those were the famous travelling books she heard so much about! Even the jeweller had a beautiful selection of earrings, bracelets, necklaces and rings that the Princess had no idea the Eldians were capable of such craftsmanship. She particularly liked the brooch with the silhouette of a bird resting on a golden branch, the gold of the bird expertly mixed with beautiful midnight blue gemstones, resembling feathers. Also the hairpins! They were absolutely marvelous. The jeweller himself was both pleased and proud that the Gottesreichan Princess liked his products.

Their next destination amazed and terrified the Gottesreichan guests.

Eldia’s military prowess was legendary, and right now, they had its base and core right in front of them. The training grounds were a massive expanse of terrain, with barracks, thoroughly used wooden dummies, racks full of well-cared training weapons of all kinds, archery ranges, horse-riding training fields… and each and every single space was filled to the brim with warriors and trainees.

It was frightening to see how Eldia’s army was composed of perfectly trained warriors with wide expertise in the arts of combat. Not a movement wasted, not a single error in the placement of their feet to maintain balance. Strength, power, endurance, knowledge— every skill needed to become a perfect warrior, it was taught here in the massive training fields.

The Chief walked them right through the training grounds, nodding towards the warriors and fresh trainees who ceremoniously saluted him and the entourage he was leading. It was the same salute the Gottesreichan guests had seen in their entire walk around the unexpectedly gigantic village: right hand closed in a fist over their hearts, left hand on the back, and a proud stance full of tenacity and devotion. The newest recruits surprised the royal siblings, full of young faces who couldn’t be older than 15, but with a fierce determination to learn and to prove themselves. All sizes, shapes and forms– if you were up to it, were ready to go through an intense training, it did not matter who you were: a farmer’s son, a baker’s daughter… if you dedicated your heart, trained hard and understood what values had an Eldian warrior, what a life meant, you were fit to become one.

They stopped to observe the fresh batch that just started training a few months back go through a hand to hand combat. The instructor, a tall and intimidating man, bald with prominent wrinkles on his forehead and very notorious dark circles under his eyes, yelled out orders to the recruits. Some flinched, some fought every fibre of their beings into not taking a step back –a few of them failing–, but some stood their ground with confident and resolved stares, bearing down the drilling of the grim and frightening man.

Upon seeing that their Chief, the veteran warriors and the Gottesreichan guests where watching them, the recruits swallowed down their fears and tried to impress their leaders and royal guests, trying to make a good and fearsome impression of what the Eldian training grounds and warriors were made of. Punches, kicks, throwing the opponent on the floor… the field became a controlled battlefield of snarls, growls and frustrated shouts that developed into determined grunts. The recruits’ clothes soon became soiled by a mix of sweat and dirt, as a result of their vigorous and energetic try of today’s exercises.

The Princess did not dare to voice it aloud, in fear of her thoughts being perceived as a critique and direct attack on the Eldian ways, but her heart shrank inside her chest at the sight of what must be the smallest, tiniest of the new recruits, a blonde girl with wide blue eyes like the sky above, go against a trainee twice her size. Eva involuntarily clenched her hands in apprehension on the Chief’s arm, eyes not able to look away from the imminent tragedy. She was too tiny to be there! That poor girl was surely to be beaten into a pulp, taken advantage of the fact that she was much weaker, much more smaller–

A large hand squeezed her tightly clasped ones, making the Princess tear away her concerned gaze, even if she thought it was impossible for her to do so, to look down and see the Chief’s one bury her own. The Princess immediately searched for the Chief’s eyes, surprised at how he was already gazing down on her and had a small reassuring smile on his lips, nodding towards the training field. Eva looked straight ahead, just in time to see the petite girl dodge and deliver a solid punch to her opponent, making the cadet stagger backwards and clutch their stomach in pain. It was still far from being perfect and devastatingly powerful, as Eldians were known for, but it was good enough for a start and for the tiny warrior’s size. A small breath of relief released itself from the Princess’ lungs.

It still shocked Eva to the core to see women amongst the military ranks and files of Eldia, and nobody questioning it. Apparently there weren’t any kind of laws to forbid them to enlist, or to do any other job that back in Gottesreich it was meant only for men. How could they do it? How could those brave women endure it? Eva had always been taught how them, the lesser, weaker sex, could not what a man could do, just because God said so in his holy words. Father was the High Priest of Gottesreich, Father preached the word of God, the Holy Scriptures, that he made memorise Eva the moment she began her intense training as the third Princess of Gottesreich. It was so deeply ingrained in her mind that the mere thought of thinking herself above a man and their role made the Princess want to get on her knees and beg for forgiveness from her God.

How far did the dissimilarities run between their nations? How could Father entrust her with his desire to enlighten the Eldians into the correct, pious path? Just the simple thought of questioning her husband-to-be and his ways chilled her entire body and soul. She just… couldn’t. Her father’s will confused Eva.

But still, deep down inside her, locked down and not even daring to let it see the light, she couldn’t help but to… envy them. Envy their freedom of choice, of options, of life. Could she ever be like them? Aspire to have their wide range of choices? Alternatives? Could she choose her own path? She had been taught since she was a little girl that she would spend her life in a home, with her husband and a child in her arms. Not travelling, not expanding knowledge, or meeting new people and cultures… Everything Father and the Governess told her reminded little Eva of a bird cage. Pretty, comfortable, enough to see what was beyond the bars… but a cage.

She learned to accept her fate quickly, not daring to cross Father ever again in her life.

Eva knew she was born in a privileged home. A castle. A Princess. Never hungry, never cold, only the best of the best for her. It only took a quick look beyond the capital to see how privilege fed and took care of her. All her whims and wishes met without hesitation. Not a single patch to fix on her dresses, her hairbrush not missing a single bristle and made of the best silver— a perfect, content life. All you have to do is your duty, Father said. Do what you were born to do. Your only purpose.

Make me proud of being your Father.

Bring glory to the Holy Kingdom.

She was made to be bred, she was made to bear children, heirs, she was made to be a leverage for deals, a bargain chip, as her mind whispered to her in her darkest moments, to bring prosperity and glory to the Holy Kingdom of Gottesreich. She was… She was…

“Your Highness?”

The Princess was brought back to the present by Moblit’s placid voice and the Chief’s gentle tug, as if she had been rooted there, staring at the warriors, and getting lost in her troubles instead of following her fiancé and Eldian hosts. They were staring at her. Everyone. At least it felt like everyone, even the animals. Her breath had caught in her lungs, her throat a hard knot she forced herself to swallow before speaking.

“My deepest apologies, my Lords.” Eva’s mind scrambled to find an appropriate excuse for her lack of manners and being caught zoning out. “I did not mean any disrespect by my actions or to show an unwillingness to follow this pleasant walk. I was simply transfixed by your warriors, admiring their tenacity and will.”

What a load of bullshit.

They all seemed to buy it. Not Flora, though. She could see right through Eva as if she had been made of glass. Her handmaiden would probably ask her about it later in the privacy of their own lodgings, but let it go for now, knowing it was no use to inquire about it in the middle of the village tour, even less in front of their hosts.

They resumed the walk, passing through the training grounds before turning to their right, strolling until they reached one of the biggest houses of the village. Moblit informed them it was where the sick and injured were taken care of. A house for the sick, a hospital. Gottesreich had its own physicians and doctors, but never a house dedicated for the sick, the poor. Eva knew the Palace had their own royal physicians, dedicated only to them, and the people needed to rely on the town’s doctors.

Eva wondered how did this hospital work. Did they dedicate a part of the taxes to it? Was it free? What remedies did they use? What—

One of the windows was slammed open, an excited yell coming out of it. Moblit let out a tired sigh, mumbling in Eldian, as if he knew exactly what was that about. Levi spoke too, the tone in his voice denoting annoyance. Eva felt the Chieftain chuckle, answering his right-hand man with something that made Levi snort.

A head poked out of the window, messy brown hair tied up in a scrambled ponytail. The stranger kept shouting, excited, continuous noises of delight coming out of their mouth. The person noticed the small entourage right down their window, and quieted down instantly, curious as to who were the ones standing there. Then, another excited screech, lurching their body almost out of the window as they enthusiastically waved down. Moblit let out a strangled noise, uselessly raising his arms as if he wanted to catch the over excited person dangling off the window.

Eva discreetly looked to her side, looking for an answer or explanation in the Chief’s eyes, but he was looking up with an amused smile. She used his distraction to look behind her, finding the exact confused expression on her handmaiden and brother’s faces. The Princess saw Flora quietly shrug her shoulders, and she was so tempted to join her, but refrained in case the Eldians caught her and found it impolite. The person on the window shouted something and disappeared inside, sounds of furniture being moved around reaching their ears. Moblit groaned, rubbing his temples.

A few minutes later the same person who had half their body out of the window came out from the main doors of the hospital. Levi discreetly stepped away, not wanting to be involved with the newcomer and the imminent events. He really wanted to go back to the privacy and tranquility of his own home, drink a nice cup of tea…

An excited exclamation followed by a strident laugh broke Levi’s long desired daydream. He watched their eccentric approach, wondering how their guests would react to them. Judging by how the delicate Princess gasped at anything that came running and loud, Levi guessed it would not go right. Mike silently joined him, crossing his arms as he, too, observed the catastrophe about to happen.

“Bets?” Mike’s low murmur made Levi snort.

“She will freak out.” Levi turned his head to amusedly stare at his fellow warrior. “Like she did with you.”

Mike scoffed, crossing his arms.

“C’mon, not you too. And I say she doesn’t, just to spite you.”

“Hah! Serves you right, you big-nosed moose.” Levi’s gaze fell back to the front.

“It was not my intention.” it truly hadn’t been. He couldn’t help it, Mike trusted his nose, knowing his instincts never failed him before. He had to know.

“Just, don’t go sniffing people.”

“I will not make such promises.” Mike’s lips curled into a smile, proud at the way he managed to make Levi’s shoulders briefly shake.

Both warriors kept watching the scene in front of them, with Moblit trying to save the situation from their beloved doctor’s clutches, quickly directing their attention to himself and his words. Everybody knew that Moblit had a reserved spot on their Goddesses’ paradise; nobody worked as hard as him, and was as skilled to manage the village’s resident genius doctor.

“Your Highnesses, it is my pleasure to introduce you to our doctor, Hange Zoë. They are the head of the hospital and–”

“IT IS PLEASURE TO MEET, HIGHNESSESES!” Hange cut the poor and exasperated Moblit out, excitedly looking from one sibling to the other. The royal hosts were surprised at the doctor’s broken Gottesreichan attempt, albeit enthusiastic.

Flora successfully covered an amused snort. Ardor! Fervor! Passion! Flora admired that in a person, and for now, Doctor Hange Zoë managed to catch her attention. The handmaiden was sure she could learn interesting things from this eager physician, and secretly wanted to see how Eva would react. It reminded her of her first week as the Princess’ handmaiden, chasing a scared and overwhelmed Eva down the corridors as she tightly clutched one of her precious books, wanting to volt out of any situation that involved a loud and chatty girl following her everywhere. Flora realises know that she had been a little bit insensitive to her poor friend, but in her defense she just wanted her Princess to live.

The eccentric doctor went from sibling to sibling, offering their hand for them to shake. Prince Hans took it surprisingly well, smiling warmly and shaking the offered hand with what would be considered a perfect grip, confident and secure, while Hange still kept letting out broken gottesreichan, not giving any thought to the mistakes. Friederich was confused, and as such, shook his hand with the same sentiment as he was feeling; the second Prince felt as if a strong wind knocked him out of his feet and all he could say was “huh?”.

But ah, Eva. Poor Eva. She had brief flashes of her childhood with Flora, of an overexcited girl running after her as she talked, and talked, and talked… until Eva began to enjoy her extroverted nature and secretly thanked her for dragging her out of her room or the library. But still, Doctor Hange Zoë managed to scare the living daylights out of her with their excited gasp and sparkling eyes. Eva clutched the Chief’s arm in a deathly grip for the second time that day.

Hange offered their hand out too, but then seemed to think about it. Did princesses shake hands too? Was it protocol? Well, Hange never truly cared about protocols, to be honest, Moblit usually took care of that. So maybe it was too forward? Should Hange bow? Did they thoroughly screw up in their eagerness–?

Eva raised her hand and took Hange’s as her brothers did, Forcing herself to paint a warm smile on her lips.

Her father and governess’ voices were screaming inside her head, louder than her own heartbeat. How dare you shake hands with a commoner, you, a princess of Gottesreich? A princess should never shake hands! Commoners must bow, must kneel, must–

“The pleasure is mine, doctor Zoë. I am afraid I do not know any word of Eldian yet, but thank you for your efforts. I hope to learn soon.” Eva would follow her brothers’ lead for now, as they discussed on their journey to Eldia. Father was not here. Father did not understand. If Eva was to settle here to start a new life and end it here, she could not start fights and discontent because of her father’s pride. It was the smart thing to do.

The coarseness of her father always upsetted her, even if she swallowed her discontent, not wanting to repeat that night.

Hange’s uncertain face instantly turned into a bright smile. They didn’t screw up! The doctor turned to say something to the Chief, who in return gained a brief smile. Then, Hange returned their attention to the siblings.

Levi was rendered speechless. He lost the stupid bet! Levi was sure the Princess would freak out upon Hange’s overly enthusiastic greetings, judging by how she had reacted earlier with Mike and his antics. He didn’t dare to turn to his left to see Mike’s moronic moustache smiling smugly at him.

“You owe me.” Mike’s grin could be heard in his voice.

“Shut up, you giant tree.” Damn it!

“Want come in? Show house?” Hange signaled to the main entrance of the Hospital, already thinking about the tour they would take the royal siblings and show how amazing their inventions and discoveries had been.

Should Eva say yes? No, that was arrogant of her, she couldn’t decide on a whim what or what to not do, even less without consulting it with her brothers or the Eldian leader. Didn’t the Eldians also have an itinerary already made for today? The people on the streets and outside the hospital were staring at them, curious about the scene in front of them. Eva was getting nervous. their stares were suffocating her, their attention adding more weight on her, her mind scrambling to find an appropriate response–

Moblit intercepted before Eva could begin, quickly saving the moment.

The Princess was grateful for it, feeling the weight of the decision on her shoulders diminish; she restrained her relieved sigh from escaping her lips, though. Moblit would handle it, thank God above! With a pang of pity in her heart, Eva watched Hange go from thrilled to crestfallen as Moblit spoke. Now she felt bad, knowing for sure they had the best intentions in their heart. Maybe the detour wasn’t that bad…?

But Hange immediately returned to their cheerful self.

“Must come other day! Question Erwin about it!” Hange clasped Eva’s hand in theirs, that exhilarated spark back in their eyes. “Must show you fun things!”

Eva pressed her lips into a tight, nervous smile and nodded, hoping it would be enough to quench Doctor Hange’s eagerness. Too forward! Too forward! Was this also an eldian thing? It seemed to do the trick, as they went back inside the hospital when an assistant called them from the door and enthusiastically waved goodbye.

“Apologies, your Highnesses.” Moblit deserved a raise and long vacations. It had been only a day, but it was clear for the gottesreichan guests that the poor man dealt with a lot, and it seemed that Doctor Hange occupied 80% of it. “I must ask for you to forgive Doctor Hange’s lack of protocol and take no offence by it. The Doctor really enjoys meeting new people and telling about their discoveries and new remedies.”

“No offense taken, Moblit. I’m sure Doctor Hange can make it up to us by showing us what they are so excited for, right?” Hans was genuinely interested, always asking the doctors and physicians back at the palace about everything, going as far as reading some books, although he understood half of it. He truly wanted to know Doctor Hange’s thoughts.

“Honestly, I’m curious now.” Friederich scratched his nose, mumbling. Hans sniggered, lowering his voice so only his brother and her sister’s handmaiden could hear him.

“You, willing to listen to non-battle-related things? Who are you and where is my dear brother?” Flora snickered, covering her mouth.

“Oi!” Friederich’s ears went red at the tips.

“We will have to come tomorrow, then.”

Moblit approached them, always with his calm smile on his face.

“May we continue, your Highnesses?”

Only when they resumed their tour, hearing Moblit talk with her brothers and the Eldian warriors escorting them, did Eva realise how Doctor Hange was wearing glasses.

Saying Eva was scared was not enough. Terrified? Frightened? Petrified? There was no adjective to describe the sheer terror those beasts instilled inside her heart. Those were not horses. No horse could be that monstrous size. Nope. No way.

She didn’t even reach the horse’s chest! And even one leg was as thick as her whole body! How did they even suppose she could get on one of them?

They were led to the village’s stables, where the stable hands and grooms had horses ready with their saddles. Each one of them had a different saddle pad, beautiful Eldian embroidery and motifs of golden and white thread on a teal fabric, most of them resembling the ones from the village’s houses, the themes of the needle work being mostly of mother nature herself. The leather of the saddles were beautifully taken care of, going from darker to lighter tints of brown, no doubt the artisans made a good work of the dyes and its delicate processes.

The horses looked healthy, robust and ready to be ridden by their masters. If Eva wasn’t as scared as she was, she would be admiring the animals and the pure strength they exuded.

Friederich was getting more invested into this part of the tour than the previous one. Yes, Eldia was beautiful and curiously different, but for Friederich, it was still boring; he had never been good at diplomacy and pleasantry visits. He had always heard of Eldia’s monstrous steeds, and was delighted to see such enormous and sturdy stallions, powerfully built and vigorous. You could see the raw power in them, and couldn’t wait to see what it felt to ride one of them. Maybe he could convince the Eldian Chief to trade some… Surely his enemies would piss themselves upon seeing a beast such as this charging against them. Yeah, maybe he could, preferably at the evening banquet. Now was not the time.

This was an important ritual for the Eldians.

Moblit gracefully explained how this was considered crucial when two souls got engaged in Eldia. Hunting was part of their culture, a huge one, and they would not bring shame to their traditions and ancestors. It was an art, and the Eldians deeply respected nature and what it provided for humankind, so the solemn air was palpable. For Eldians this was a trial, also. Those who proposed to their lovers would have to hunt a magnificent piece for their betrothed, to both show that they could provide for them and also have the strength, patience, wit and endurance used in hunting that would prevail in their lives.

Since the Chief was getting engaged to the Princess, he had to prove himself to her, so she would accept and approve of her future husband. This ritual held even more importance for who was performing it, and the villagers were actually curious about how well would their Chief perform; sadly, some couples had to use all three attempts to succeed. They hoped the Chief would succeed at his first try.

For Eva, it was basically a show to see how much of a peacock the man could be, not that different from those in court who would fawn themselves and their achievements to win her hand, and what came with it. Bitter? Maybe so. She was just tired of men, but would respect the Eldian tradition. After all, traditions were traditions, and one should always honour them, no matter what.

For Flora, it was just like her beloved romantic novels. A man proving their worth to their beloved? Man versus Beast? Oh, how she wished that for herself! Maybe one day she would find love here, in Eldia. Who knew what the future awaited for her?

“As tradition says,” Moblit spoke. “The future bride and groom must ride together, as the willingness of their souls to start a new journey.”

Eva froze.

No way.

No.

There had to be a mistake. She thought she would ride in a small carriage with Flora, as the men rode and discussed their matters. Her dress wasn’t suited for riding!

On cue, one of the stable hands brought a magnificent white stallion, it’s crest carefully brushed and not a single tangle and bit of dirt on it. It was bigger than the other horses, robust, and Eva understood now what people meant when they said pets and horses resembled their owners: a horse truly fit for a Chief; it had to be his judging by the proud look the man had on his eyes.

The beast patiently stood right in front of them, not showing an ounce of nervousness or uneasiness. How Eva wished she felt the same. She just wanted to bolt right out of there.

The Princess felt the Chief turn towards her, and automatically released her hold on his arm, although he kept her hand in his, gently guiding her towards the Chief’s own stallion. Eva didn’t want to get closer, even less mount on it. She was terrified! They stood in front of the beast’s head, admiring the noble profile and long golden lashes it had. Eva saw the Chief affectionately gaze at his horse, giving it a tender stroke on its muzzle. He looked back at Eva, inviting her to do the same, but the Princess remained rooted, frozen on the spot. The Chief nudged her to pet the stallion’s head by lifting her hand himself, slowly, always watching her reactions closely— the Chieftain knew he was pushing her, but Erwin believed this would help her lose a little bit of her fearful first impression.

Eva watched, between a mix of horror and wonder, how her gloved fingers brushed the horse’s muzzle, its heat warming up her palm. The stallion didn’t even flinch at the change, letting itself be pet. Eva was amazed, transfixed, not even aware of the Chief’s gaze on her. Slowly, a sensation of relief washed all over her body, feeling more secure now that the beast showed no trace of nervousness upon seeing a new face. Eva even let herself release a small smile, even though her heart was still pounding fiercely inside her chest.

More horses were brought to them, each warrior taking the reins of their own steed, as well as new horses for the Princes to ride. Friederich was beyond excited, eyes going from head to rear of the enormous beast he was lent to ride. He looked like a child in a candy shop back at the Capital.

Everyone waited for the Chief to mount first, as tradition dictated. The solemn air felt like a pressing stone on the Princess, not truly knowing what she was supposed to do besides having to ride with him. Should she say something? Perform a certain move? But the Princess stood rooted there, letting her never-fading anxiety begin to swallow whole again.

The Chief prepared himself to mount on, grabbing the pommel with his left hand and easily hoisting himself up when he set his foot on the stirrup. Every move he did looked effortless, as if even a child could do that with their eyes closed. If they thought Eva could achieve such levels, they were going to be thoroughly disappointed. The Chief extended his hand to the Princess, signaling her to come closer and join him on the horse.

The question is: how the hell is she supposed to get on it?

Moblit did not give any clues or hints about it, and everyone respectfully watched as the Princess approached the Chief with small steps. The Eldian leader never looked away from her, and she truly reminded him of a scared fawn.

What came next was a blur for the Princess. One moment she was standing right beside the Chief, timidly taking his hand and raising her other one to try to reach the pommel as the Chief did, her foot raising too to set on the lowered stirrup, and on the next moment Eva found herself being lifted as if she weighted nothing, strong arms pulling her up, easily turning her so she sat astride the horse with her back pressed against his chest.

Eva couldn’t focus on anything but the feel of his broad and strong chest snugly pressed against her back, despite the layers of thick clothing and cloaks between them. Eva did not pay attention to everyone else getting on their horses, or how Friederich couldn’t help the boyish grin on his lips, or how Flora turned beet red when she was made to mount on the same horse as the second Prince of Gottesreich, her confident and self-assured attitude gone for a moment. She couldn’t, not with how the Chief righted her stance with gentle hands, or how he straightened her own dress skirts and cloak without being prompted to do so, or how he guided her gloved hands to the crest and horn, so she had something to hold on to, even if the arms that caged her in wouldn’t let her slip and fall. The cold was forgotten for a moment, as well as her nervous tension.

Prompting the beast to an easy gait, the Chief led the party outside the stables and onto the main street. That’s when Eva snapped out of her trance and quickly ventured a look towards her handmaiden, seeing her grip the crest of the horse she was on with red cheeks. Both women crossed looks, twin bewildered expressions greeting each other. Eva silently cheered for her friend, but was too occupied herself with her own troubles to even waggle her eyebrows to tease her handmaiden.

This was going to be a long day.

The main street greeted them with the eldian villagers gathered on the sides of it, creating a passageway of curious and expectant faces. Everyone looked like they were waiting for a signal, eyes glued to the Chief’s horse and its riders, fingers and feet fidgeting. When the Chief and the Princess passed the first bystanders, the whole wide street exploded into cheers and shouts and blue.

The villagers threw flowers on them and the horses’ hooves, smiling and clapping as they passed by. Eva recognised the winter flowers from before, the same she wore now on her braid, and watched the villagers cover the entire street in a mantle of blue and white. The Chief did not turn to greet or answer them, keeping his head and eyes straight ahead in a solemn show of respect towards their faith in him. That’s when Eva understood this was part of the hunting ritual too, bidding farewell and good luck to the couple about to engage in the ritual. So, to not be disrespectful towards their culture and traditions, Eva did the same, looking straight ahead towards the main gate, into the sky blue path. A flash of the Chieftains’ eyes crossed her mind. The same blue.

It truly was a beautiful sight.

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that-damn-girl · 4 years ago

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(8) Bucky and The Bed

Completed

Chapter 7

Bucky and The Bed Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (cis)fem!reader

Words: 3100+

Summary: You and Bucky are stranded in the middle of a snowy nowhere when there is an ‘electronic blackout’ during your mission. With no back ups or any way to contact your team, you take refuge from the worsening weather in the only cabin you find in miles. Not to mention, with no power, Bucky has become your personal heater and there’s only one bed.

Chapter type: Fluff.

Chapter/Trigger warning: Language? Like teensy weensy bit of angst?

A/N: Thank you for continuing to read this series still. After the end, which I will start on a Bucky x Rogers!reader miniseries. I am particularly excited to write the next two chapters. Hope you like this part!

Bucky looked at it. Kept looking at it. And looked at it some more.

The metal armed man was sure he couldn't ever get tired of the sight in front of him. It was simple and yet so complex he felt he could get lost into it and never regret a second. It might not be much, but it was enough for him to lose himself. He didn't know how to describe the sense of serenity it brought him.

Peeking through the light fluffy clouds, the setting sun cast warm golden rays that gave every snowy surface around you a honey like glaze. As the time gradually passed, various colours in the most brilliant of their shades blended beautifully to embellish the never-ending sky. As the slanting rays of the sun flitted through the clouds, the yellow filter in the sky gave way to a graceful braid of pink and orange before shrouding everything is it's vermilion hue.

In the handful of days you had taken refuge in the cabin, not one day had the sun been kind enough to grace you with its presence. When today it finally did, you and Bucky realised it was too good an opportunity to miss the sunset view these mountains offered. Without any further ado, a bonfire was created outside the cabin with dry leaves and firewood arranged meticulously.

The splendid view of nature in its finest forms was exploited to its full content. You and Bucky sat around the bonfire, taking in the furiously blushing sky and the snow covered peaks shining golden in the distance as the clouds traversed through them.

Bucky was taken aback by the raw beauty in front of his eyes. It reminded him of the sunsets in Wakanda. Sure it wasn't comparable to those in the futuristic and fascinating country, but it was a close second. He only grew more in awe of the view the more he looked at it. Majestic was one word for the sight in front of him. It wasn't the sky though.

It was you.

A small, unconscious smile took a hold of his lips as he took in your face, peacefully resting on his shoulder. Your arms were tightly curled around his vibranium one, your body leaning its weight on him. A shared blanket was thrown over your backs, trapping in the heat the fire provided.

For Bucky, it was majestic, really. How could it not have been, looking at your face, at the blend of the colours from the setting sun and the fire casting a beautiful glow to your already beautiful self? Your serene features were highlighted by the natural light and the dancing flames. You looked elegant and exquisite, more so than anyone he had ever known. As bewildering as it sounded, Bucky had met a god but the warm colours grazing your skin truly made you more divine than any other celestial being.

Bucky was utterly whipped.

Sensing his gaze on you, you tilted your head to look at him. Bucky had always had an intense face, even when he was relaxed or didn't mean to do it. You had encountered it many a times and dealt with the increase in your heart rate it brought, but you could never get used to his soft smile and gentle eyes looking at you with such adoration, such love, such trust, as if you had hung the stars and the moon for him. It overwhelmed you, always, but in the best of the ways. Especially since you had discovered a couple days ago that it wasn't just in your head.

Unable to stifle your own giddy smile, you reached up to kiss his lips. It was only meant to be a peck, but he drew you in even before you had the chance to pull back, always eager to taste you, to have you, to kiss you, to cherish you. You galdly gave into the kiss. It was soft and sweet, the way his lips molded around yours, moving in sync. The kiss slowly grew intense, but not heated. It was only filled with love and care, making him unable to put in the conscious effort of letting you go if you were okay with it.

Instead his strong arms wound around you and brought you to him lap so that you were straddling his thick thighs. His lips moved slow but firm, just taking the time to worship your lips as they deserved to be. One hand tightened around your middle, keeping you secure in his hold while the other drifted down to your butt, his large hands kneading your cheeks gently with utmost care and fondness. You slid your arms up his broad chest and around his neck, holding him close. Smiling in between the kisses, neither of you were able to let go, clinging to each other as none could get enough of the other.

When you finally did let go to breathe in lung fulls of the crisp, cold air, you moved to relieve him of your weight. His arms tightened around you in a slight moment of panic, refusing to dismiss the comfort you brought him just by your touch, your closeness. "Stay, please?" He softly pleaded.

You looked down at the heavy log of wood Bucky sat upon. It was broad enough to sit, but not enough to be comfortable if he kept your weight on himself for long. "Your legs are going to hurt, Bucky"

"Y/N, I don't know the true limit of the powers the serum gave me, but I think it's enough to stop a helicopter from taking off. I think I can hold my precious girl without hurting myself." He smiled at you with the boyish charm and the innocence of a first grader announcing that he got A+ in an assignment.

"Show off," You chuckled, booping his nose with yours. "But an adorable show off."

"What?" Bucky quietly, softly muttered, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "I like holding you, hugging you, having you close. That's all." Your heart fluttered in your chest, swelling with emotions. The simplicity, the vulnerability with which he admitted favouring your presence made you wonder just how much open and comfortable he was with you. You knew he liked you, trusted you, but it never ceased you from being overwhelmed everytime he expressed it.

Heart brimming with affection for the man in front of you, you didn't trust yourself not to confess then and there how deeply in love you were with him. Instead you said the only thing you could think of to draw the attention away from your racing heart. "You also like my butt."

The metal hand tenderly kneading your butt cheek stilled. Hesitance crept in every being of Bucky. He cursed himself, worried he had offended you or made you uncomfortable somehow. What he heard was unassuming, but he didn't want to take any chances if you didn't like it.

Bucky realised that since the day you had agreed to be his girl, he had given an awful amount of attention to your butt. He'd always rest his hands there while cuddling or gently knead the soft muscles as he was doing then. He would never deny that your behind was alluring to him, but his touch wasn't meant to be demeaning or enticing, at least not until you partook in sexy times. He'd only ever meant for his actions to treasure you, admire you, but he would not do it at the cost of your comfort.

You caught onto what must have been going inside his head. Bucky meant to draw his hand back and apologise, but you stopped him and quickly added, "I love the attention, honestly."

"You're not... offended by it?" Pulling back to look at you, he asked unsurely, making himself look as small as possible.

"Should I be?"

Bucky shook his head, "I like you and I respect you, a lot. You know that, right? I only do it, because...well, what's there not to like about your butt?" He emphasised it by giving a small squeeze to your soft muscles.

"I believe you," You chuckled, giving his plump lips a sweet peck."And I meant it, I love the attention you give it. But why do you like it so much? My ass is so-"

"It's perfect." Bucky finished your sentence before you could add in any negative comment about yourself. "You're perfect, doll."

"You're such a charmer." You mumbled, going for his lips with a wide smile.

"Only for you." Bucky replied, happy to taste you, feel you. When he pulled back, he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

With the fiery flames warming your back and Bucky's heated body pressed to your front, you snuggled into him further. Head resting on his broad shoulder, eyes closed, you basked in the comforting embrace, in the heat seeping into your bones. It was your own little heaven.

Feeling the sun on his skin after so many days had felt great. Although he was used to staying in the dark before he was rescued, he didn't like it one but. It felt good, immensely so. But with you at his side, with him, enveloped in his arms, your touch calming him, anchoring him, everything was better than never before.

It didn't take long for Bucky to realise that you had dozed off on his shoulder, your chest tranquilly rising and falling against him. Chuckling, he gripped both the ends of the blanket and curled his arms around you again, the pair of you now cocooned in the heat of the blanket.

He rested his chin on your shoulder, his head leaning against your, and looked at the dwindling flames in the darkening sky. Nightfall loomed at the corners, impatiently waiting for the sun to complete its descent before it could take over. The lowering temperature was palpable in the chilling air. He knew he would need to carry you inside soon, but he waited for the soothing heat of the fire to die down before he would be forced to retreat inside.

Looking at the sky in the far distance, Bucky took in the myriad of changing colours with time. He couldn't help but think about Steve. What Steve would have done if he would have been there. There was no doubt in Bucky's mind that Steve would have ran inside to look for a pencil and paper with the speed of a cheetah.

He would have taken down the various shades on the trees and the mountains and the clouds floating above their heads with the monochromatic beauty of grey and created a masterpiece. Bucky smiled, thinking about the concentrated look Steve would have had in his face, brows furrowed as his eyes would have shifted like at a ping pong game between the sky and the paper. He remembered his days in the military camps with his pal, when the newly bulky man still testing his strength would sketch in any free time he got to deal with the stress he felt.

Bucky...missed his childhood friend very much. He didn't realise when his eyes had moistened when his vision grew blurry.

Not that Sam and you weren't few of the greatest friends he had had, but Steve was... something else. Steve Grant Rogers was his brother, truly so.

Everytime Bucky thought about his pal, his Steve, limitless emotions flew through him, all different for different reasons. One of the most lasting ones though was that gratification. Bucky firmly believed he owed his life to Steve for saving him from the torture he had suffered from the hands of HYDRA. Not once, but twice, in Austria and in D.C., when that fool had nearly died instead of fighting him. Steve had also saved him from the governments of the entire freaking world, trusted in him when nobody else did. Steve had fought with his friends of the twenty first century, his only family, for him. The Golden Boy of America preferred his name being dragged through the mud and being counted in the ranks of the criminals he put behind the bars over losing Bucky. Though he knew it wasn't just for him, Steve had helped resurrect him and all the others when Thanos had snapped them dead. He didn't know how he could ever repay Steve for all that he had done, for all the sacrifices he had made for Bucky.

Out of all those plethora of emotions, one of the few which weighted heavily on him was that of regret. For a man who had lived for over a hundred years, Bucky didn't have the chance to do as many things as he would have liked. Maybe it was because he hadn't lived as much as he had survived, but he didn't let that be the base of his excuses. He had meant to do many things right.

Bucky never thanked his Ma for the man she had raised him to be. He was never there for his sisters when he had promised them he would be. He never properly thanked Steve for saving him time and again. He never thanked Howard for helping Steve save him when he was captured in Austria or for keeping Steve company when he couldn't. He never got to thank Tony for reversing the snap or apologise to him for all that he had done to his parents, Bucky's own friends, while in evil's control.

Bucky had always thought that he would have time; time which he lost partially because he had taken everything for granted, partially because fate had been cruel to him with a vengeance. Life of an Avenger was... unpredictable at the very best. They could be overly cautious, but never fully prepared. Many a times they had to deal with hostage situations or - Bucky still couldn't get used to believing it - alien invasions without a moment's notice.

Bucky had learnt never to take things for granted the hard way. Now that he thought about it, lady luck had never been on his side for long. Everything even remotely good had been taken from him when he thought he had time to enjoy them and bask in their glory.

He didn't want it anymore. Bucky didn't want the guilt weighing him down, knowing he could have done something or said something but didn't, because he thought fate would be kind enough to give him some time.

He didn't want to take chances anymore.

Glancing down, Bucky saw you napping peacefully on his shoulders, really making him a human pillow. Hot puffs of air fell on his neck through your open lips. His heart fluttered in his chest, mentally cooing at how adorable you looked.

He couldn't help but think back to the time he had first met you as himself. His metal arm was trapped in a hydraulic press in some abandoned factory. Both Sam and you had pure disbelief on your faces when Steve trusted Bucky enough to believe his every word...just because he could recall Sarah and how Steve wore his shoes. But then you had gotten to know each other, slowly but surely.

It hadn't been all rainbows and sunshine. The trio of you had had your asses kicked by the spider kid, a literal teenager. You and Sam had been imprisoned in the Raft and had to live a couple years as criminals because you had helped Steve in rescuing him. After Thanos happened, Steve had decided to go on his own journey, leaving Bucky with those who didn't really know him and neither did he know them.

But efforts were made on both the sides. You and Sam had welcomed him into the Avengers like your own. Sure he had been more open and closer to Sam first, but that hadn't deterred from trying to befriend him.

Much like Sam, you had helped him through his night terrors. Been awake with him at odd hours of the night because he couldn't sleep. Helped him discover himself again. Listened to him when he needed an out without any judgement, or talked for the two of you when he wanted to communicate but couldn't. Trusted in him when he didn't even trust himself. Helped him believe in himself and forgive himself. You had helped him recover.

You were with him at the darkest times to guide him to the light, and celebrated with him when he did find his light. There were relapses, but you were with him to help him get back on track.

You had trusted him enough to let him see your vulnerable spots, to confide in him, to let him take care of you, to let him help you just like you had helped him. You had trusted him enough to let him see you, the real you.

But most important of all, you had been a friend before anything else. A friend whom he had needed had needed more than anything else.

Feelings had developed along the way, which he was glad for being reciprocated on both sides. The journey to where you and him were now had been a long one. It had never been easy, but it hadn't affected either of you.

Bucky never wanted to lose you. He couldn't ever possibly lose you. You meant too much to him. He also knew he couldn't dare to think he'd have much time before something akin to Thanos happened again. Being an Avenger guaranteed that nothing was ever guaranteed. Most of all time, in Bucky's case at least.

Looking at you, Bucky realised he couldn't not let you know how he truly felt. No matter what your decision might be afterwards, he had to let you know. He wanted to be his own man, making his own decisions. And he wanted to love you, so goddamn much, if you allowed him. His heart beat faster in realisation when he realised what that would mean. It made him nervous, but he was ready.

The risque wasn't lost on him. He was very well aware that you could run away in the opposite direction, thinking he was going too fast. You could break it off and your friendship wouldn't be the same again. If you wouldn't want to speak to him again, you would respect your wishes.

But if there was even the slightest chance that you felt the same, he needed to do it. Because the bliss of having you, being with you and loving you was worth every risk in the world.

The divider is made by @writeyourmindaway

Chapter 9

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hexmione · 4 years ago

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The Quidditch World Cup and The Dark Mark - Fred Weasley Series Part 2

A/N: I really should be doing my school work but I was struck with inspiration and I decided to write part 2 to this Fred Weasley series! This might be a little dramatic but I hope you enjoy. This part is also quite long... Nevertheless, I still hope you enjoy.

This is Part 2 of my Fred Weasley x Reader series! Here is the link to the FIRST chapter “Journey to the Quidditch World Cup - Fred Weasley Series Part 1”

Description: (Y/N) Potter experiences rising anger levels at the Quidditch World Cup, but nothing would prepare her for how she would feel after.

Warnings: A tiny curse word!

Word Count: 2,708

Date Posted: September 10th, 2020

---

You, Harry and Hermione, worked out where the pegs and poles of the tents would go. Once you finished, you were sure that these looked like regular muggle tents.

There was no doubt that once Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived, there would be no room for all eleven of you. You noticed that Hermione and Harry were having the same thought process.

The three of you shared a quizzical look as Mr. Weasley crawled into the tent, “We’ll be a bit cramped,” he called, “but I think we’ll all squeeze in. Come and have a look.”

You and Harry ducked down and made your way into the tent - you shared a look of astonishment. You had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. You scrunched your nose, oddly enough, there was a strong smell of cats.

You left Harry with the rest of the Weasleys and joined Hermione and Ginny in the tent you three would be staying in.

"Hey! How come your tent doesn't smell like cats?" Ron complained as he entered your tent.

You, Hermione, and Ginny let out a laugh at his misfortune. Ron rolled his eyes, "Hermione, (Y/N), Dad wants us to go find some water while he the others are going to find firewood"

"Firewood? Why can't Dad just light the oven?" Ginny asked.

"That's what I said!" Ron exclaimed, "He said something about anti-Muggle security."

---

You, Harry, Hermione, and Ron set off across the campsite with kettles and saucepans. You were amazed at how many witches and wizards there were in the world.

The four of you began to walk in pairs, Hermione and Ron in the front, you and Harry in the back.

"Harry," you said.

"Hm?" Harry hummed, turning to you.

"What were you and the boys talking about?" You asked, "Right after Cedric left."

Harry flushed, "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

You rolled your eyes, "You're lying."

"No! I'm not!" Harry exclaimed.

"Harry, you seemed upset," you said softly. You made sure to give him the best puppy-dog eyes you could manage. Over the years, you had been able to get anything out of Harry by using that one look.

You smirked as Harry groaned, "You know I hate it when you do that, (Y/N)."

"Are you going to tell me now?" You asked.

"It was nothing, (Y/N)! It was just something George said about Fred."

Your smirk instantly fell, "What about Fred? Are you upset with Fred? Is everything okay?" you asked, wringing your hands.

"I know that you're close to Fred and George, but why are you so concerned?" Harry asked with his brows furrowed.

"I'm not! I just-"

"Do you fancy him?" Harry asked abruptly, cutting you off.

"No!" You said, waving your hands. You felt your face flush.

"Yes, you do!" Harry exclaimed, "I know when you're lying, (Y/N)."

"Harry!" You hissed, "I don't fancy Fred!"

Once you said that, you watched as Harry's face drained of color, "You and Fred. Fred and you."

"What? Harry, what are you on about?" You asked, your face still feeling hot.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," Harry said, sounding stern.

Before you could respond, green clouded your vision, "Er — is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?” said Ron. You had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. From behind the four of you, you heard your names.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione! (Y/N)!"

It was Seamus Finnigan, your fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor.

Before the four of you went to join them, Harry pulled you back, "We'll talk about this later."

You rolled your eyes, you knew your brother could be dramatic at times, but this was completely unnecessary, "I thought you said it was nothing!"

"It is," Harry said as he walked ahead to join Dean and Seamus.

Hermione gave you a look, you rolled your eyes and mouthed, "I'll tell you later."

She nodded in understanding as you all joined Seamus and Dean.

---

“You won’t be getting anything for Christmas,” Harry told Ron, thrusting Omnioculars into Ron and Hermione’s hands. “For about ten years, mind.”

You laughed, "I hope you both know that he's lying."

Your money bags considerably lighter, you went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold.

You made your way to Fred and George, "What in Merlin's name possessed you to give ALL of your gold to Bagman?" you asked in a hushed whisper.

"That, my sweet (Y/N), is for us to know, and for you to find out," George replied with a cheeky grin.

You looked at Fred for a moment and wrung your hands together. You hadn't spoken to Fred since Cedric left, "Fred, can we - can I-"

A deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, cutting you off. At once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field. “It’s time!” said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. “Come on, let’s go!”

---

"Here’s Lucius!” Fudge called. You weren't paying attention to his schpeel about you and Harry to the Bulgarian minister.

You, Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly turned around. Right behind you and the Weasleys were no doubt the Malfoy family. You almost laughed at Draco's mother, as she was wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose.

There was a tense moment between Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy. You remembered the fight they had in Flourish and Blott's right before you and Harry's second year.

“Good lord, Arthur,” Mr. Malfoy said softly. “What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn’t have fetched this much?”

You scowled, "And who did you have to threaten, Mr. Malfoy?" You replied in a harsh whisper.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry turned to you quickly. Hermione gripped your wrist as a warning. Mr. Malfoy's cold gray eyes looked you up and down, "Ah, the Potter twin. Draco has told me a lot about you," he said as his lip curled.

Fudge, who wasn’t listening, said, “Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He’s here as my guest.”

Mr. Malfoy shot you a smug grin as he turned and stared Hermione. Hermione, who had turned pink, stared right back at him. You knew what he was thinking. You knew what people like the Malfoy family thought of witches and wizards of Muggle descent.

You felt the strong urge to spit on him right then and there, but Mr. Malfoy wouldn't dare say anything in the presence of the Minister of Magic.

Draco gave you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione a scornful look before settling himself between his mother and father.

"I could feel the anger coming off of you," Harry whispered.

"What?" You replied.

"It felt like you wanted to spit on him," Harry answered with a grin.

"I did," you said, "How did you know?"

Harry shrugged, "I just knew."

---

"He was about to jump from the box!" Hermione told you as you were all back in the tent, "I had to pull him back into his seat!"

"What are you guys talking about?" Harry said as he and Ron entered the girls' tent.

"How bloody stupid you two are!" Ginny exclaimed.

"You almost killed yourselves over some Veelas!" you added on. You weren't as upset as you made yourself out to be, but you enjoyed watching the boys squirm.

"It wasn't our fault!" Ron complained, "They're just so..." Ron trailed off with a dreamy look on his face.

"Ugh!" Hermione said with disgust, "Get out! Go to bed!" Hermione stood up from her bed and pushed the boys out. She groaned as she fell back on to her bed.

You and Ginny shared a knowing look as Hermione sat back up, "Anything you would like to tell us, 'Mione?" you said with a smirk.

"Hush!" Hermione said, "And don't act like you weren't upset when Fred was acting the same way!"

"Hey!" you said in protest, your face already feeling warm.

Ginny, who found this exchange absolutely hilarious, was rolling around her bed, laughing, and clutching her stomach.

"Oi! And you!" you said, staring pointedly at Ginny, "you looked as red as your hair when Hermione had to pull Harry down from the ledge of the box."

Ginny suddenly stopped laughing, and all three of you stared at each other in silence, all with red faces.

It only took a moment before you all began to laugh at your foolishness. The three of you were extremely close, seeing as you were surrounded by boys all the time. You loved your brother and the Weasley boys, but you, Hermione, and Ginny understood each other in a way the boys couldn't.

"Shall we go to bed?" Hermione asked.

You and Ginny nodded, suddenly feeling very tired.

Three "goodnight's" rang out through your tent. Hermione turned off the light, and you succumbed to the sensual temptation of sleep.

---

"Get up! (Y/N), Hermione, Ginny, wake up!" Mr. Weasley's frantic yells quickly roused you out of your sleep.

" ’S’ matter?" Ginny mumbled.

"No time! Grab your coats and shoes and meet the boys outside!"

You, Hermione, and Ginny quickly did as you were told. You knew something was wrong from the way Mr. Weasley sounded.

You rushed out of the tent, pulling a coat over your nightdress. You placed a hand over your mouth in horror as you saw a small Muggle child, who was spinning like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side.

Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the tent, fully dressed with their wands out, "We’re going to help the Ministry!” Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. “You lot — get into the woods, and stick together. I’ll come and fetch you when we’ve sorted this out!"

They sprinted off, Mr. Weasley quickly on their heels.

"C’mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny’s hand and starting to pull her toward the woods. You, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and George followed. You all looked back as you reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; you could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

As you walked in a tight group, Ron yelled in pain.

"What happened?" said Hermione anxiously, stopping so abruptly that you and Harry walked into her. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid — lumos!"

"I tripped over a tree root," Ron mumbled angrily.

"With those big oaf feet you have, it'll be hard not to."

You, Harry, Hermione, and Ron turned. Next to you was Draco Malfoy, leaning smugly on a tree.

"Fuck off," Ron snapped.

“Language, Weasley,” said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. “Hadn’t you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn’t like her spotted, would you?”

His attention was directed at Hermione, "What’s that supposed to mean?" said Hermione defiantly.

You were gripping your wand so tight, you were sure that your knuckles were turning white.

"Granger, they’re after Muggles," said Malfoy. "D’you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around... they’re moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" you snarled.

"Hermione is a witch," your brother snapped. Just as he could feel the anger radiating off of you before, you could feel it radiating off of him now.

You decided to leave Hermione, Ron, and Harry and catch up with Fred, George, and Ginny. Hopefully, the trio would follow as you left.

When you reached the twins and Ginny, Ginny was the first to notice you.

"Oh, (Y/N)!" She cried in relief. She flung herself on you and gave you a tight hug, her face was red and splotchy as if she had been crying.

"We thought we lost you!" George said as he joined you and Ginny, "Fred was just about to go out of his mind."

Fred silently joined you and looked around, "Where are Harry, Ron, and Hermione?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" you said, "They're right here..." you turned around, and all you saw was the path you came. You assumed that once you left, the other three would follow you.

It was like your world had come crashing down. Harry and Hermione would be targeted, Ron being a pureblood would only do so much. Ron, Hermione, and Harry were practically defenseless.

You detangled yourself from Ginny, "I-I have to go," you managed to stutter.

"What? Are you mad?" Fred snapped.

"I have to find them! They're not safe!" you cried. Ginny took a step back next to George.

Fred moved forward, "You won't be safe if you leave! If you haven't noticed, you're (Y/N) bloody Potter! You're a target too!"

"Oh, so now that I'm in danger you want to speak to me! Fred Weasley, you have been cold to me this entire trip! I don't know what has gotten your wand in a knot, and I don't care! You are not the boss of me, and I will leave and find my brother if I please!" You yelled. You were furious.

"Well, I need to keep you safe!" Fred exclaimed. His face was flushed with anger, and you were sure your face looked the same way.

"You aren't a bloody hero! And I don't need protection!" You shot back. You turned to walk back into the woods but you felt Fred's arm snake around your waist.

"What are you doing! Let go of me!" You yelled. You were on the verge of tears at this point. Your brother and best friends were in unimaginable danger, and you couldn't help them. Harry was the only family you had left. Of course, you had your godfather, Remus, and you had your uncle, Sirius, but Harry was different. Harry was your brother.

"(Y/N), please, darling," Fred whispered in your ear. You had started to cry, heartbreaking cries that left bystanders cold and aching for loved ones they had been separated from. George and Ginny watched. Ginny, with tears, slowly running down her face, and George, with his face stoic, gripping on to his sister's hand tightly.

You and Fred sunk down to the ground, your face still hot and sticky with sweat and tears. You couldn't accept defeat, you needed to find your brother and the rest of your friends.

You pried Fred's arms off your waist and quickly stood up, "I'm sorry, Freddie. I have to go."

Fred looked up at you in shock from the floor. You didn't give a second thought as you quickly took off through the woods, leaving the three Weasleys in the clearing.

Fred stood up silently. He was still in shock. He watched the path in the woods, waiting to see if you would come back.

When you didn't, Fred turned around and kicked the tree Ginny and George decided to sit against. He slumped next to Ginny.

"Fred," Ginny sniffled.

"What?" Fred snapped harshly.

"Why do you have two wands?" Ginny asked timidly. She already knew the answer, but she hoped it wasn't true.

George turned to face his twin, "Oh, Fred. You didn't."

A cold wave of fear and regret washed over Fred, "I took her wand so she wouldn't hex any of us," he said slowly.

"But-" George started.

"Dammit!" Fred yelled, "She's out there with no wand!"

---

Quotes from the book used:

“We’ll be a bit cramped,” he called, “but I think we’ll all squeeze in. Come and have a look.”

“[He] had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen.”

“Er — is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?” said Ron.”

“[They] had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they heard their names”

“It was Seamus Finnigan, [their] fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor.”

“You won’t be getting anything for Christmas,” Harry told [him], thrusting Omnioculars into Ron and Hermione’s hands. “For about ten years, mind.”

“[Their] money bags considerably lighter, they went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold.”

“And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field. “

“It’s time!” said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. “Come on, let’s go!”

“[...] here’s Lucius!”

“Good lord, Arthur,” he said softly. “What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn’t have fetched this much?”

Fudge, who wasn’t listening, said, “Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He’s here as my guest.”

“smallest Muggle child, who was spinning like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side.”

“Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys’ tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out. “We’re going to help the Ministry!” Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. “You lot — get into the woods, and stick together. I’ll come and fetch you when we’ve sorted this out!”

“C’mon,” said Fred, grabbing Ginny’s hand and starting to pull her toward the wood. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and George followed. They all looked back as they reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; they could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.”

“What happened?” said Hermione anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Harry walked into her. “Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid — lumos!”

“Language, Weasley,” said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. “Hadn’t you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn’t like her spotted, would you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Hermione defiantly.

“Granger, they’re after Muggles,” said Malfoy. “D’you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around . . . they’re moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh.”

“Hermione’s a witch,” Harry snarled.

---

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #ginny weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley series #harry potter fic #fred weasley oneshot

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writerwrites · 4 years ago

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Yuánfèn | 05

Ch. 5: L'esprit de Escalier: “The feeling after leaving a conversation where you can’t help but think about all the things you should have said.”

Summary: When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Chapter Chapter Word Count: 4.3k Chapter Warnings: Slow burn, anxiety and shock related to elevator failure incident, small mention of Steve’s minor injuries from the initial Ultron fight in the Tower, small mentions of two idiots being horny and doing nothing about it because re: idiots

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“You look…” She trailed off, eyes bright as they met Steve’s.

“I look like what? You don’t like the blue?” He tugged on the collar of the blue button up he’d put on for Tony’s party as he laughed nervously. His smile was almost one of shy boyishness as he looked tenderly at the familiar woman in the small bed, relieved she was lucid. He’d asked Sharon to keep him in the loop and she hadn’t had a single clear day when he was in Spain.

“I was going to say tired. When’s the last time you slept?” Her aged hands reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and Steve quickly stepped over to help her. “The blue looks nice, but you know I’ll always prefer you in a uniform.” He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks.

“It’s been a few days, but knowing Stark, I probably won’t get any sleep tonight either.” Steve realized he was holding back, Peggy noticing it too when he paced around the end of the bed with his hands on his hips. “Like father, like son, I guess. Big party tonight. Tony even joked that he’d invited some of our old friends, so just wait until I’m back to let you in on whether or not we had some other vets there.”

“Hmm,” She smiled and watched him, “I wouldn’t put it past Stark at all...and did you find a new dance partner?”

Steve felt like he should've known that she would figure out why he came before he could pluck up the courage to ask Peggy to help him talk through his feelings. Sam was a great listener but there wasn’t anyone left that really knew him, not like Peggy did. Even with Natasha invested in his romantic life, she didn’t understand why he was so hesitant to try something new. With a nod, he sat in the chair next to Peggy’s bed, pulling it in closer. She smiled at him, reaching her hand out for him and he didn’t hesitate to take it, “I didn’t ask anyone to Stark’s party, but she’ll be there.”

There was a long quiet between the two of them. Steve wondered if he’d hurt her by mentioning you or whether Peggy was trying to find the right questions to ask. It wasn’t a painful silence, their hands staying together, fingers laced through like they were making the most of their time together and, in a way, they were. Periodically they would steal a glance at one another, smile softly, and settle back into their thoughts. Eventually, Peggy would break the silence, but not how he’d expected. “What are you still waiting for, Steve?” His thumb paused in its rhythmic brushing over the loose, translucent and speckled skin. “Burdening yourself with things you can’t change is no way to live.”

Though he nodded in agreement, Steve bit his tongue. There was so much that felt unfair, complicated. He let Peggy change the conversation, reminisce about old Stark parties and music from the forties, but Steve fought to be present and enjoy this rare moment with her. Was it fair to tell you he had feelings for you when he still loved Peggy, even if he couldn’t have her? You both had your own baggage, so could you find happiness together without working through that first independently? These were the same questions that had been running through his head every night he’d been back at the Tower. He had sat up, notebook in hand, and tried to write through it, but only ended up staring at the sketches of you asleep on his chest. He wanted to say there was happiness in Spain, but the silence since returning to New York felt like he had misread the situation. Instead of talking through it, he pressed a kiss to Peggy’s forehead and told her he’d be back as soon as he could, making no promises to dance with that new dance partner.

Your ears were still ringing when Sam picked you up off of the elevator floor. He had shouted over the sound of fighting far overhead and your own screams every time the elevator moved, but it hadn’t started in complete chaos. At first it seemed like a power surge, the elevator falling a few floors. JARVIS didn’t respond and then, after a little bit of waiting all hell broke loose. I got you, that was all he kept shouting as he pinned you in a corner of the elevator, arms wrapped around you while you wondered how many floors it would take to plummet to a certain death. In the minutes of peace between the first serious fall and the second, Sam still held you as he tapped on his smartwatch to call for help. The snapping sound of the elevator cables, clang of something heavy and metal clamoring through the elevator shaft and denting the roof, the squeal of the elevator breaks struggling to stop the lift from another terrifying descent. Needless to say, Sam’s message went unanswered. With Sam pressed against you and both of your bodies losing weight in the third descent you worried about the team, certain that it had to be exceptionally bad if whoever was responsible managed to get into Stark Tower.

Somehow the breaks held long enough for Sam to pry the doors open. The entire experience left you shaking in fear and even though the voice in your head was saying you were in shock, you couldn’t make yourself move from the curled up position in the corner of the elevator. It left Sam tasked with picking you up and using his adrenaline to carry you up the three flights of stairs back to your office as your body kept shaking in his arms. You couldn’t be sure if the ringing in your ears made the stairwell seem uncomfortably quiet or if the hell you two had just escaped was all in your head.

“Doc, I need to check on the team. I’ll be right back, just keep the door closed and…” He looked around your office, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, brought your bag to you and set it at your feet. “Your phone’s in here? I’ll be right back.” Even with tear-blurred vision you could see the concern in his dark eyes and the turmoil of leaving you, so you nodded because your teeth were chattering and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. Sam pulled the soft blanket from the back of your couch over your shoulders, “I’ll be right back.”

It didn’t matter if he’d been gone five minutes or ten or even twenty, you spent the entire time with a racing heart. Every little sound set you off into a fit of tears that would choke up after your racing brain tried to logic yourself into calming techniques and there were sounds, screaming and banging. With your face buried in your knees and your body completely racked with exhaustion you lost all track of time, your mind pinballing between replaying the elevator’s descent, your need for sleep, fits of panic and calm, and even the horrible moments where you’d been in a cold basement identifying the remains of your family members years earlier. What you hadn’t been thinking about was getting your head in the game and following Sam to the frontline to patch up the team.

Sam came back, as promised, but he wasn’t alone. The sound footsteps in the hall had you sobbing into your knees, rocking back and forth as you tried to not imagine the worst. “Hey you,” Steve whispered, his warm breath hitting your arm moments before he took your hands in his. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” His warm hands brushed up your arms and pulled gently to untangle you from the ball you’d put yourself in. “Let’s go home, okay? Let’s get you out of here.”

Picking your head up a little, you looked around the room, the light was on and your office looked completely unchanged. Sam was standing behind Steve watching you, looking far more put together than you were as you caught sight of your own reflection and immediately looked away. You hadn’t seen yourself in such a state since the Chitauri attack and it wasn’t a trauma you wanted to relive. Slowly you turned your gaze to Steve and his thumbs immediately brushed away the damp on your cheeks. With a sniffle you asked, “Is it over?” The rasp in your voice gave away that you’d been screaming in the elevator or maybe it was from all the crying afterward. That logical voice in the back of your head tried to push forward again as you tried to box up your own feelings, “Is the team okay? Do they need me?”

“Nah, we’re getting you out of here, Doc. The big brain idiots can deal with their mess.” Sam’s tone was brotherly but firm, no room to tell him you could handle the truth about whatever happened at the party.

When Steve tried to help you up your legs wobbled and you nearly fell. Quickly wrapping his arms around your waist, he steadied you. “It’s a lot of stairs, honey. Let’s just think about this for a minute.”

“Between the two of us we could get her down to the garage.” Sam offered as he watched you stare at Steve’s feet while you tried to steady your breathing, unaware that the reason you were trying to calm yourself down now had more to do with the proximity to the super soldier that just called you a pet name.

“You’ve been through hell tonight too, Sam.” Steve may have been talking to Sam but his attention was on you, how your arms were still pulled close to your chest and your whole body was shaking. “You both can crash here at the Tower. There’s a spare room next to mine. She can have mine, it’ll be fine. We can make it work. That’s a few floors down, we’ll manage if you can just carry her bag for her.”

“Steve,” you started with your head already shaking ‘no’ but you couldn’t be sure if you were saying no to staying in the Tower or kicking him out of his bed, probably the former. It wasn’t lost on that noisy logical part of your brain that your body seemed to have settled on freeze rather than fight or flight, but that sliver of rational brain seemed to focus on the fact that if someone got into the Tower once that they could do it again.

“I promise, you’re safe. You just hold on to me.” Effortlessly, Steve picked you up and pulled you to his chest. Wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles behind him, you buried your face in Steve’s neck. Your arms draped around his neck but as they walked you through the Tower to the level with the Avengers’ apartments you relaxed, albeit just a little.

You had only been on this floor a handful of times and if anyone was watching you cling to Steve like a baby björn, you were too busy trying to remember to breathe to notice. In fact, you hardly even noticed Steve and Sam talking along the way or the conversation about showers, clothes, and breakfast in the morning. What you did notice was the circles Steve was pressing into your spine as he talked casually to Sam. He took his time to head next door to his room and what may have seemed like casual chit chat to Sam or even appeared like Steve being a bit of a moving, physical talker felt like you were being gently rocked into a less panicked state. Slowly, Steve had somehow lulled you into the headspace you were in once he joined you in Spain, the weight of emotions washing away in the familiar smell of his body wash and clothes.

If the sound of a door closing and the quiet that ensued wasn’t an indication that you were now in Steve’s room it was the smell of the place, just as lovely and welcoming. As Steve leaned forward to set you down on the bed you instinctively clung more tightly to him. He straightened up and you felt the rumble of him holding back a laugh before he sighed and gave in, walking into his bathroom and setting you down on the sink. Absolutely refusing to let go of the small comfort that had numbed the terror of the evening may have been the main reason for your behavior, but there was also the fact that you didn’t want to acknowledge your bundle of insecurities. So, for a moment longer at least, you stayed right there holding on to him. “So this is how it’s going to be?” Steve brushed his fingers through your hair as you nodded into his chest. “Well, I’m not sure how comfortable you’re going to be trying to sleep in this dress and my shirt’s pretty torn up after the fight.”

The fight… For the first time since you stepped onto that elevator you really looked at him. Your legs slowly loosened their grip on his waist and Steve helped you reach the ground, even if it was just by the tips of your toes because he pinned you between his body and the counter of the bathroom sink. Even in the warm golden glow of the bathroom you could see that he was already healing from a good hit to the face. Your palm went to his cheek and he covered it in his own as if to tell you he was okay. Maybe you were going to ask him if he was, but all you managed to say was one shaky, half whispered, “Stay?”

Steve felt selfish for even thinking, hoping really, that you would ask, but he wanted to stay with you. He wanted to keep you safe and finally get some sleep himself. Instead of asking if you were sure, he found a confession passing his own lips in the same hushed tone, “I haven’t slept since we got back from the villa.”

The sound of your breath hitching, your surprise and exasperation, would’ve been unnoticed by the average person, but it might as well have been on a loudspeaker with the super soldier serum in his veins. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you tried to unpack the weight of what you were feeling with those words, with the pet name he’d used before he scooped you up. Somewhere between being both understood and hurt that neither of you had managed to say as much in three days. Your head was clouded by his words and your body seemed to forget that lungs needed air to breathe as his hands were back firmly on your hips. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you I missed you. I should’ve checked on you.”

Steve hushed you, a welcome end to what you knew would’ve been a word vomit rambling monologue of you unpacking whatever you were feeling. Your eyes met and you wanted to lean forward just a little and see what it was like to kiss him, to see if he would reciprocate, but the panic settled back in your bones and you scolded yourself for even entertaining the thought, gaze falling back to the floor. As you came down from the jittery terror of the elevator and the high of being held by him you remembered the sting of Tony’s speech at the party. To his world, you were certain that he saw you as nothing more than a silly girl with a silly crush.

When you withdrew into yourself again, Steve assumed you were trying to figure out how to ask for some privacy. It had been a long night and even though he thought you were still beautiful with makeup mussed from crying, he didn’t want to put more emotions on the pressure of the day. His thumbs brushed over your hips and he took a step back toward the door. “Take a shower and I’ll pull some clothes for you. I’m going to run down to the gym and take a quick shower there myself and then we’ll forget this day happened and get some sleep.”

He looked down at your hands, fingers now wrapping tightly around his pinky and ring finger. Steve wasn’t sure what you stopping him from walking away meant, but he was too scared to ask. While you had been the first person to understand him on a deeper level since he came out of the ice, you were still from a generation that was much more upfront sexually than he was. As much as he wanted you, that wasn’t something he could just walk into without clear boundaries and commitment. For you, your reluctance to let him go was too embarrassing to put into words, you kept your eyes on your linked hands rather than his face, terrified to find a look of pity or something less emotional written there. You spoke to your hands, giving them a gentle squeeze when you asked, “How long will I be up here alone?”

Tilting his head to the side, the Avenger realized what you meant and he visibly relaxed, “Full of surprises.” With those words, your words, a call to your trip to Spain, you managed to look up at him. When your eyes met you both managed soft, understanding smiles. “Ten minutes tops, put a timer on your phone. If you hear any clanging around it’s Tony fixing the elevator. I promise, you’re safe, okay? We’ve got everything under control and no one, especially me, will let anything happen to you.” It may have been what you needed to hear to let your hands fall from his, but it didn’t change the fact that after Tony’s speech you doubted that anyone was going to rush to save you. Whether Steve really realized that or not was another issue entirely, but you bit your tongue, nodded, and watched him leave.

10… You turned the knob of the shower and looked through the glass at your clothes on the floor. It felt like another life when Steve stammered over complimenting you in the dress and just as you replayed that moment in your mind your brain tugged at the latter events of the evening. You ducked your head under the hot stream of water to try and rinse everything away as your fried nerves seemed to be so eager to push you back into that shaken state.

9… He hissed as the water poured into the small cuts on his back and scalp while his gaze moved to the pile of clothes on the bench next to the shower. Another party, another missed opportunity to steal a dance with a girl he couldn’t get off his mind. The part of him that still loved Peggy was beginning to feel like someone else. He paused under the water, cringing as the water pressure made the fresh bruises on his back throb. The man had no idea how to string a sentence together around either of the two of them.

8… You paused, savoring the smell of Steve’s body wash coating your skin. Immediately, you wanted to run back to him, to the safety that you always found in his arms. The rapid pulse fluttering in your chest neither complete panic or complete anticipation. You only knew that it had more to do with him than the fear of any attack on the Tower.

7… He quickly rinsed off the bubbles of soap, eyes pressed tightly closed as he tried not to picture your bare silhouette through the foggy glass of his shower. That muscle twitched with want and neglect at the thought of the hot water running down your body, the same one that had clung to him for nights on end.

6… Wrapping your arms around yourself under the cascade of water, you pushed away the thoughts creeping into your mind as you became more aware of how alone you were in his space. You tried to remember to breathe, relax, find one happy moment in the day to say it was a day worth surviving. Safety was just a few minutes away, you repeated over and over in your head, but the hot water didn’t seem to be able to reach the cold in your bones.

5… Clearing his throat, he toweled off and practically ran back to his room. Circumnavigating the way he overthought every moment with you until he was back in his room, focusing on the reality of you asking him to stay.

4… You froze, staring at your reflection in his mirror, when you heard the door to the bedroom open and the movement just a few feet away on the other side of the door. The sun-kissed bare-faced reflection looking back looked exhausted, anxious, a weak and fragile stranger.

3… Steve pulled on his clothes quickly in case you came out to see who had walked into the room. Then he grabbed his favorite crewneck sweater, a bit worn in so that it’s once rich-blue color had faded just a little. The sweatpants he piled on top were his only ones with a decent drawstring, which he hoped would help them from falling off of you. As he reached for a pair of socks he remembered how much you hated them, always trying to keep your cold feet off of him in the night and ultimately wiggling out of them on instinct just a few minutes after you were actively asleep.

2… With a sheepish smile you reached a hand out of the bathroom when you heard the knock and tried to take his clothes without dropping his towel- which you couldn’t seem to wrap tightly enough around your curves. Yawning, you dressed as quickly as possible. Grabbing your dirty party ensemble, you caught a glimpse of your clothed reflection. It wasn’t just that you were swimming in his clothes, it was how different you looked with his sweater clinging to your damp skin and sweats threatening to slip lower on your hips- their width and the drawstring your only saving grace.

1… His mouth fell open when you walked out swimming in his clothes. You were too busy throwing your own in your bag to notice. There was no compromise to be had, Steve knew he could never ask for it back now.

Though he’d been laying on the bed, he swung his legs back over and went to stand up. Immediately worrying he was going to leave you panicked and asked, “Wait! Where are you going?”

His eyes stayed on you as he approached you slowly. When he reached you in just a few steps, Steve brushed his fingers through your hair, combing it out of your face. “I promised I wasn’t going anywhere and I-”

“Keep your promises. I know.” You smiled and nodded up at him. “But you also promised we were going to go to bed and forget this day ever happened.”

There was so much he wanted to try and explain, but just like he had with Peggy that morning, he fell silent. The last thing he wanted was for the first time he kissed you to be in a bed, it was why he’d stood up. Now he also didn’t want it to be in the Tower where you’d almost died an hour earlier or in a bedroom where you may have thought he was trying to take advantage of you. He lost his resolve, settling on waiting a little longer. Instead, he looked at you and focused on something small that had been bugging him all night. “I’m sorry you want to forget that today happened, but I understand. Tony can be a bit of an ass. I was really excited that he was going to finally give you the recognition you deserved as a member of the team. I appreciate everything Dr. Cho has done for us, but you’re the one taking care of us day in and day out.”

Throwing your arms around him, you hugged him more tightly than you ever had before. Your hands held his shirt in fists as you refused to let yourself cry anymore for the day. Steve didn’t hesitate to hold you back, rubbing those familiar circles down your spine. He knew that though he couldn’t find you in the crowd tonight he could perfectly picture the disappointment on your face at Tony’s slight and to his surprise it had made his temper flare a little. One thing Steve didn’t know about you though was that when you were completely tired or overly emotional you had a hard time processing in English and the muffled “Thank you” into his chest came out in your first language. That new little realization made him smile.

Pulling you to the bed, you climbed in after Steve and settled closely into his side as you always had. Like two pieces of the same puzzle, a perfect fit. Steve pulled the blankets over the two of you, turned off the light, and while one hand found yours and held it just below his chin, the other went under his sweater to your back. His large hands on your bare skin sent shivers down your spine. It was a welcome surprise that you thought might lead to something else, and you immediately hid your face at the stupidity of such a thought. Steve drew those little circles into your back again and, for the first time, he fell asleep first. The slow rise and fall of his chest, the cadence of his heartbeat, and you were quick to follow. You pressed your lips to his side and he hummed in his sleep and pulled you closer as you drifted off, a million things left unsaid.

A/N: You’re still here!? Thanks for reading Chapter 5! I never promised every chapter’s word would belong to Reader and in this one I think it may even belong more to Peggy than Steve. The over arching theme of Yuánfèn is about Steve and Reader though, don’t worry. I really appreciate you all being so kind and supportive of my little corner of Tumblr while I try to write consistently on a crazy schedule. Your comments and messages mean the world to me.

What do you think will happen when our favorite little idiots wake up in the morning?

Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics

I will be reblogging with tags, send an ask if you’d like to be added either to the series or to one of my other tag lists.

#fic: steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x yn #writer: writerwrites

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votederpycausemufins · 4 years ago

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another chapter of the scattered au story I'm writing. tagging @helleborusangel because ❤ and @hermitcraftheadcanons since they made the au with their community.

Now then... where have we seen those names from last time before? hmm, maybe Grian knows.

Grian coughed a bit as the magic keeping him alive faded a bit. Though snow mostly covered his wings, he could still see a few visible patches of formerly red feathers, now a bright purple. For the most part, he was trying to ignore that, instead focusing on the bots. “A-Alright. Wh-who don’t w-we know a-about y-yet?”

“Well Bdubs hasn’t had any death messages yet.” Grum answered while trying to force one of his arms to move since it was stiff from the severe cold. “Also nothing from Jeven, Beef, Keralis, Joe or Hypno.”

“And then Ren and Etho have had deaths, but nothing that tells us where they are. Well, unless you count Etho in the overworld since he got killed by a monster.” Jrum said next. “Oh, and False and Stress are both near water cause they drowned a few times, but it looks like they stopped a while ago.”

Grian gave a shivering nod, trying to warm himself up a bit more by rubbing his arms. “A-anything important that we kn-know other than that?”

The bots looked at each other for a few moments before looking back to Grian. “Well, we’re pretty sure it’s nothing… but…”

“Wh-what is it?” Grian asked, breathing into his hands.

“So out of everyone, Impulse has been dying the most. With just about everyone else, they’re stuck with something they can run from. Like Daddy with the illagers and Cub with the cave spiders.” Grum started before allowing Jrum to continue.

“If you weren’t making things better, you would probably dying lots and lots more from the cold, but then Impulse keeps getting killed by guardians, and if they don’t, he dies anyway to drowning.”

Grian nodded before he again nearly died to the cold, instead his survival instincts getting him to use magic and heal himself up as well as warm him and also the bots. When it stopped again, he was panting. Using so much magic was detrimental to him, especially in this situation. “G-Go o-on…”

“Well, the time between his previous death and a drowning death is getting longer. Only a tiny bit, like half a second or less, but it’s always going up and not just fluctuating.”

Grian nodded. “Th-that’s not completely unusual. R-repeated deaths to th-the same thing c-can make y-you m-more resistant. Y-You’ve probably n-noticed that w-with Scar and him c-crashing into things. It m-might be happening with others, b-but not consistently e-enough for you t-two to n-notice.”

Jrum went to hug Grian but then was stopped by Grum. “Wait, we’re still metal. We’ll just steal his heat.”

“B-but I want to hug him!” Jrum complained. “I-I’m scared! I don’t like this! I want to go back to the shopping district!”

Grum hugged Jrum instead. “I’m sure there’s some sort of explanation for this, and if anyone’s going to figure it out, we probably can. Everyone seems spread out, but you and I stayed with Dad. I’m guessing the magic keeping him alive kept us with him. He’s not really in the best condition to do much other than staying alive, so we’ve got to do it ourselves.”

“But what can we even figure out?”

“W-Well, you t-two already t-told me about th-the other h-hermits. A-and what w-was u-up with Imp-pulse. I’m s-sure y-you can d-do plenty w-with more t-time.”

“Exactly, and we also know that whatever is causing this can be affected by Watcher magic.”

Jrum pouted. “That doesn’t really narrow it down.”

“But it narrows it down a little! Which is better than nothing! And it does remove the possibility that helscraft is responsible.”

Jrum stared at Grum for a few seconds. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Right, no mayoral reservoirs. Um, it’s like hermitcraft, but evil.”

Grian smiled as the two bots talked. Even in a bad situation, he was glad they seemed mostly fine. He, on the other hand, felt horrible. Sure, he was keeping himself from freezing to death, but that was all. Taking all this damage wasn’t something his body really appreciated, nor was using so much magic. It was draining him, and there was nothing to eat up there.

Grian tried to purposely use his magic to summon something, anything, to eat. Even if it were a spider eye or rotten flesh. He wished a zombie would even spawn, but the top was covered in powdered snow and mobs refused to spawn on or in it. Still, if he had the energy, he could force a spawn. The thing was, he didn’t, and even attempting made his hearts deplete more. He was just so hungry.

His magic forcefully kicked in to keep him alive, but it just made things worse. It could heal him, but not keep him fed, so it was just at a stalemate as it healed the damage from starvation. But the more he used the magic, the worse he got, and finally, the amount of damage he was taking was greater than what was being healed. And then, he died.

Grian immediately gasped upon respawning, the magic of the feat leaving him feeling temporarily revitalized. He could still find some aftereffects of using so much magic, namely that even after respawning, his wings were still the wrong colors.

Jrum was on him in an instant, the cold metal frigid against his skin. He could hear Grum complaining, but Grian didn’t care, hugging the bot back. If he got cold again, he would likely just end up using more magic. If anything, right now was the perfect time to use some. Grian pulled back from the hug with that realization and summoned an entire stack of cooked steak. It hurt a bit to use enough magic for that, but it would likely keep him alive much longer. And if he did die, he could do it again.

“A-Alright… If we’re g-going to try anything… i-it’s going to b-be now. I w-want one of y-you to jump o-off the m-mountain.”

“What?!” Jrum exclaimed. “Won’t we just die?!”

“I-I’m h-hoping that y-you being r-robots a-and made of m-metal m-means you c-can take m-more f-fall d-damage.” Grian explained through chattering teeth. “S-sort of l-like i-if I were w-wearing armor. I w-would s-still be c-careful a-and go down a b-bit a-at a time, b-but you should r-respawn. A-and if y-you wouldn’t, I-I’ll b-be able t-to make you r-respawn.”

“Are you sure you can do that Dad?” Grum asked, sounding concerned. “You’re already not doing so well.”

“R-Respawn h-helped. I-if we’re d-doing it at a-all, i-it’s going t-to b-be after th-that.”

The bots still looked worried, but then Grum stood up. “Alright. I’ll do it. Jrum, do your best to watch me for signals when I’m low on health so that way dad can be more prepared if something goes wrong.”

Jrum nodded and followed Grum to the edge of the small area. The older bot was able to get down a few blocks safely, finding that Grian was right about taking less fall damage as one that would have just been enough didn’t do anything. But after that, the mountain was much more sheer. Grum tried to take the best path that didn’t need jumping for more distance, which would just deal more damage, as well as shorter gaps between ledges.

He paused on one cliff, staring down at the cloud layer which was still much further below him. Unless he could find a path with very little or no damage, he wouldn’t be able to make it down there. After a few more minor descents, Grum signalled back up to Jrum, who in turn signalled to Grian. Almost immediately, Grum could sense what felt like a thin veil of magic wrap around him like just before they had moved to this season. It felt a little weaker, but Grum could tell his Dad meant it when the respawn was helping.

The robot climbed down a bit more, trying to be extremely careful every time he felt the magic waiver slightly. He was slowly getting closer to the cloud layer, but he definitely wasn’t getting to it now. All he could really do now was die from fall damage, or hope he jumped and landed in a shallow pool of water. Technically, a large pool would work too, but he was a machine, and wasn’t sure how well he and water would mix just yet. Plus, the current situation made too much water seem like more of a concern.

He tried to look for entities, using his extra mechanics for that, but with the cloud layer, he wasn’t having too much luck. Plus, at that height anything he would see would be small, and any zooming function was currently non-functional, specifically asking for an update that couldn’t currently be done. Grum looked back up and signaled one more time before jumping off the edge.

The first few seconds, all he could think about was looking at whatever was below the clouds. But then he actually got below the clouds. Of course, he was able to quickly turn around, using his robot functions to take pictures of the surrounding area, but after that was a different story. Even after getting pictures, he was still falling, and it was terrifying. Grum has already had people messing with his brain, and that was scary and painful enough. Actually dying seemed like something worse. As a robot, he couldn’t make tears, but he still couldn’t help but cry when he realized his fate.

He completely forgot about the veil of magic around him as he continued his descent. All Grum knew at that time was fear. He looked back up, hoping for some sort of comfort, but all that was there for him were clouds, and then he finally crashed into the ground.

The robot respawned just fine, no need for Grian to mess with anything. As soon as he was back on the mountain, Grian pulled Grum into his arms. The shock from dying had left the bot quiet, but it was quickly fading and he was crying again. “Y-You were s-so brave G-Grum. I-I’m s-so p-proud of y-you.”

“It was so scary.”

“I kn-know. I kn-know it’s s-scary. But y-you did s-so well.” He said, then also pulling Jrum into the hug. He wished they didn’t have to go through this. They were still kids.

As he could feel the cold trying to take him, Grian’s mind wandered. Ever since they had gotten here, he had the feeling that something about all this was somehow familiar. He wanted to figure it out, but everything was so cold, he just couldn’t focus.

Two and a half weeks ago:

“Since when do you show up to these meetings?” Someone asked, making Grian look over to them.

“Yeah, nice to see you too.” He said with a roll of his eyes.

“Doesn't answer the question.”

Grian sighed. “It’s just something to do. I’ve got a lot on my mind and not many projects left to do since we’re wrapping things up. The meeting just happened to show up when I needed something, so now I’m here.”

“Well, glad to have you. It’s actually a pretty big meeting today!”

Grian rolled his eyes. “Oh is it now. And you think Pin would agree with that?”

“He would indeed.” As a different Watcher sat down. “And he would also agree with saying it’s nice to see you.”

Grian chuckled. “Hi Pin. What have you been up to?”

“Essentially prepping for this meeting. Once Noah, Zem and Yus get here, we’ll be able to start. So I’m glad you’re early since otherwise you would have come in the middle of it all.”

“Can I at least get a hint about what we’re going to talk about? Is someone getting upped to our level? Or have we found someone new to just help take the load off of things?”

“Neither actually.” Goofball spoke up. “We’re doing something else like Evo. no scouting this time though.”

Grian couldn’t help but bounce in his seat a little. That would be the perfect thing to distract himself with. “Nice! Do you need help with towers? And do you have a world prepped or not yet. And there’s a good number of players? If you guys need any help, I’m definitely in.”

“Well, Noah’s pretty sure we need a few more towers. They’re not as grand as you had in Evo, but of course we need a good way to incorporate bedrock into the designs and Yus had been having builders block.”

“I have not!” a new voice spoke up, and Grian turned to see Zem and Yus, the latter lighting up when they saw Grian. “Xellllll! You’re here! Oh it’s been so long! It’s amazing to see you! How have you been? Is Hermitcraft treating you well? Builds have been fine?”

Grian pushed Yus back a little. “Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, technically one thing is up, but I’m trying to ignore that and so I’m here instead.”

“You know Yus isn’t going to let you leave without saying anything.” Zem said gruffly as he sat down. “Plus we can’t start until Noah gets here, so better spit it out.”

Grian shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I… well it’s kind of weird… I may have made sort of another NPC Grian… or two.”

Zem and Goofball both facepalmed while Pin looked nonplussed and Yus was excited. “Oh my gosh! I bet they’re so cute! What are their names?”

Grian sighed. “Grumbot and Jrumbot. Mumbo and I made Grum for an election I set up and then I built Jrum myself. But they’re not exactly like NPC or even Robot Grian. Everything in Hermitcraft is much more vanilla, so we had to build them pretty big to fit all the redstone and what not in. So, taking them to next season isn’t really an option.”

“Says the person who time traveled, and broke the world border, and-” Goofball was saying before Pin shut him up.

“I think what he’s trying to say is that hasn’t stopped you before. I’m sure you can still ship them off to your build world. And even if you can’t, we can take care of that when you leave for next season.”

Yus jumped up at that! “Yes! I can be the best unc- no, wait, aunt! Aunt sounds better! I’ll be their aunt!”

Grian laughed at that, as Noah finally came into the room. “Sounds exciting in here. What am I missing?” Pin and Goofball replied with ‘Grian’ at the same time Zem and Yus answered with ‘Xelqua.’ “Nice to see ya. Well, now that everyone’s here for once, we want to get this show on the road?”

“We should indeed.” Zem stood back up. “Now, as a recap for Xelqua, we are creating the Scattered experiment. A simple version is that it is the space to the Evolution experiment’s time. We’ve set up a world with all the new biomes for the upcoming updates, even the ones that most cannot access. The residents will be spread across dimensions and biomes and their goal is to reunite.”

“Sounds creative.” Grian nodded. “I’ve got a few questions though.”

“Ask away.” Pin spoke up. “More minds to think of anything we might have missed would help. Especially since you’re the one with hands-on experience.”

“Thanks. But I know with Evo, it was easy to know what was going on because everyone was in a close location. Whenever a monument showed up, word was spread easily. Are we just relying on chat for that?”

“No, we’re actually disabling the chat for the residents. Messages can still be sent by others, but that would only really be death and advancement messages.”

Grian lit up a little at that. “Oh! Clever. And if they use specially named weapons and mobs, they could find a way to actually send messages!” Then Grian frowned. “It still doesn’t answer my question though.”

“Right, well we are creating small builds that will appear at every person’s spawn. We’re sure not everyone will be leaving their spawn immediately, so those will assist those who haven’t and act as markers in the future.”

“Oh! And based on the person’s situation, those could give tools that they need!”

Noah jumped up a little. “Pin! Write that down! Write that down!”

“I’m writing, I’m writing! Get off my back!”

“That does sound like a good idea. But here’s also some notes that we’ve taking in other meetings.” Goofball said before yanking some papers away from Pin and handing them to Grian, who looked them over.

“Hmm, so I’m guessing by this one note, there are going to be hybrids or shifters included in the group. Maybe even naturals?” Grian asked, glancing up from the notes. Before he could get an answer, he was asking about something else. “And if you’re planning to have someone in the void, it’s going to be hard to mark their spawn. Also about the void, is this rotator going to be able to appear there too? I’m sure the void will kill them, but will the spawn itself make them resistant or what?”

“All good questions Xelqua.” Zem nodded. “We are going to create a gateway like structure for the one in the void as he will be in a position that leaves him with no sense of his surroundings, so it will give him that.” And after he said that, Pin wrote it down. “Some resistance for the cycler seems like a good idea. And lastly the hybrids, there are currently a few of them, but if you look on the other page, we have mob adaptions listed. Certain people will be spawning in loops that will have them adapting to their surroundings. One in a flower field will be a moobloom, one underground will gain sculk traits, someone on the mountain may be associated with a goat or arctic fox. Not everyone will go through that, as we need some control to test, but we believe that we’ll have a good selection.”

Grian nodded, pushing the papers back. “This sounds good. I mean, as long as you’ve got people who would be a good fit for something like this.”

“Oh! We definitely do!” Yus nodded. “If you want, when your season ends, you can visit us. We have it all set up so it will start when your season ends, so that way you’re not missing out.”

“Well, I’ll see how things go.” Grian replied. “I know I’ve still got some things to finish, but I should be ending soon, so I might see you all then.”

“Well, if not, I’m sure we’ll see you later.” Noah said. “I wouldn’t mind help when we get into recapping things for the records.”

“That sounds good to me.”

From there, the meeting proceeded on nicely. Nothing signalled to Grian what was around the corner for him. He never realized who the experiment was for. And then he went home.

When he got back to hermitcraft, he took what the Watchers said to heart and went looking for Mumbo. He wasn’t leaving the bots- no, he wasn’t leaving his kids behind. Even if he had to break a few rules to make it work. He was a Watcher, and nothing was enough to stop a Watcher. Well, except for another Watcher.

Grian had been keeping himself alive a bit longer, refusing to eat so he could save it for after he summoned even more. With his periods of blanking out from using Watcher magic, time felt like it was passing faster, so soon the moon was in the sky once more.

Grian tried to ignore it, but the cold of the night made everything worse. He was using more energy after the temperature drop to keep himself alive and sort of warm. It also didn’t help that so much of the magic was used to warm him, leaving the bots to slowly freeze. They may not be able to feel the cold, but ice was still freezing their joints, making it harder and harder for them to move.

Grian looked over to the cliff. He still had lots of time before he died again, but if he reset himself now, he would have more magic. And this time instead of food, he could summon something to let the bots warm up. Or maybe even...

Grian pushed himself up and walked to the ende, letting himself fall. It was still painful, but the energy filling his body when respawning made it so much worth it. Immediately, he summoned a bed before pulling himself into it. Compared to everything else, the sheets were so warm. He let his magic seep into the bed, forcing it to work. And then the sky started moving, time seeming to speed up and then it was morning.

As Grian pulled himself out of bed, he was glad to see the message in chat that told everyone he had been the one to advance the sun and moon. While it might not have been too helpful for most, suddenly having daylight or just being able to know what time it was could be useful. But now that he had used the bed, he moved the bots into the sheets, hoping it would help warm them up.

The avian considered just sitting next to the bed, trying to rest normally, but something suddenly caught his attention. There was… it felt like some sort of magic. It was trying to form nearby, but there wasn’t enough energy. Grian thought maybe it would be some sort of mob. Maybe a skeleton and he could get lucky with a bow, or a zombie and iron. So he used more magic to finish summoning whatever it was.

Grian’s eyes widened at the small monument of sorts that appeared in front of him, made of ice and bedrock. Suddenly, his mind made the connection. That was one he built for the Scattered experiment. And that’s where he was now. For a moment, he was stunned, glad to know that information. Based on what he knew, he and Impulse were getting the worst of it, but that would be getting better soon. In fact, the bots had already noticed it with Impulse.

But then that made him remember something else. The bots. Grum and Jrum were children. The hermits would get through something like this. They were probably some of the best people to use for this experiment. But no, Grian drew the line and kids being involved.

He tried to use more magic, but he was too worn out. For now, he couldn’t do anything, but he was going to raise hell once he got out of here.

#hermitcraft #scattered au #grian #avian!grian #watcher!grian #grumbot #jrumbot #the watchers #evo smp #Toon Noah #Mysterious Goofball #Pin Valentine

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years ago

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Secret Love Part 10 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: This is an important and super fluffy chapter. It’s taking me a bit longer to write now that school is back so updates will be slower but I am obsessed with sharing this story with you guys and all of the feedback means the world to me. A photoset of all of the sightseeing locations will be posted immediately following this update and as always will be tagged ‘038′

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 3,695

~~~~

You started your day - for the second time - when Cale’s thumb brushed over your cheek and his lips ghosted over yours. As your eyes cracked open, you realized he was standing beside the bed already fully dressed.

“Time to get up sunshine...we have a busy day of exploring ahead of us.” He chuckled as you groaned, stretching lazily as your brain struggled to wake up. A glance at your phone revealed that it was 5:45 in the morning, not even two hours since you fell back asleep. “Get up and get dressed and we can go get coffee and breakfast.” Cale lured, smiling so brightly that you wanted to smack it right off of his face.

Fifteen minutes later, you were pulling on socks and a pair of hiking sneakers while Cale finished throwing things into the backpack he’d brought as a carry-on. You had already pulled on the pair of leggings, t-shirt, and fleece that Cale had laid out for you and had quickly fixed your hair adding a combo foundation/sunscreen to your face so that you didn’t look entirely dead.

Sliding out of the hotel room, you stopped down at the continental breakfast for sustenance and coffee. Not long after that, you were sliding back into the rental vehicle as Cale tossed the bag in the backseat and loaded up an address into his phone’s GPS.

“So can I ask where we’re going?” You inquired, yawning as you looked over at your boyfriend.

“We’re doing the Golden Circle today...but starting with a little bit of a detour first.” Despite your look to continue, Cale didn’t add anything else to that. Instead, he handed you his phone with Spotify open so that you could pick the music for the trip.

For the next 45 minutes, you jammed out while looking out the window as the views of Iceland passed by. It was too early to have any form of intelligent conversation but as always the silence was comfortable. Eventually, Cale pulled into a parking lot and climbed out of the car, grabbing the backpack from the backseat.

“You ready for a hike?” He questioned, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Let’s do it.” You agreed, hoping your body was prepared for what you were about to put it through. It was a brisk, 14 degrees Celsius/57 degrees Fahrenheit outside but with your layered clothing it was comfortable.

The start of the hike was relatively flat and continued a good distance before you descended down the hillside and through a stone archway. Continuing your descent you reached a river, one you evidently had to cross to continue. Slipping off your shoes and socks, you rolled your pants up. With Cale behind you, you grabbed onto the guidewire and started making your way across the rocks until you reached a log halfway across. Reaching the other side of the swiftly flowing river, you threw your shoe laden hands up in the air in triumph.

“That was...an experience.” You mused, taking a towel Cale offered to dry off your feet before sliding back into more proper footwear.

“Now comes the hard part....up.” Cale declared, taking the towel from you to dry off his own feet.

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” You joked, stretching to peck his lips. “Just...don’t let me fall.” You pleaded lightly.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Cale promised. “And the view will be worth it.”

Sharing sips from the bottle of water Cale had brought, you started the long ascent. Holding the ropes as you climbed, you made slow but steady progress. Without you saying a word about it, Cale slowed down his pace when you needed him to and he reached out a hand to help when the next step was just a little too far or too high. Climbing over some particularly high rocks, Cale had one hand in yours while his other guided you up by your waist, and you stumbled half a step, your chest pressing against his as a anxious giggle spilled from your throat.

By the time you reached the first marker point you were in desperate need of more water and eagerly took the bottle as Cale pulled it out of the backpack. It was only after you had taken a handful of sips that you actually looked at where you were. Off in the distance was a magnificent waterfall, steep cliffs surrounding it on either side. In the other direction, you could see all the way out to the ocean, just miles and miles of the most stunning terrain. It was absolutely breathtaking and already so worth the burn in your quads you were going to be feeling for days.

As you turned back to stare at the waterfall again, Cale’s arms slipped around your waist and he stood pressed against your back, his chin resting on top of your head.

“What do you think?” He murmured.

“It’s incredible.” You whispered, relaxing back against him.

“I knew you’d like it.” Cale added, his breaths long and deep, just taking it all in.

As you stood wrapped in Cale’s arms, in wonder of how a place like this could exist, you felt a wave of emotion crash over you, hitting you as hard as the water flowing over the falls hit the rocks below.

You were in love with him.

A life with him, one full of adventure and wonder. Knowing he was the one person who knew you better than yourself, knowing he would always be there to support you physically and emotionally. This was all you could ever ask for, could ever want.

You’d loved him from the moment you first held him 21 years ago. That love had changed in substance as you went from playing house with Cale as your partner in crime and Taylor as your baby to biting your nails trying to quell your nerves as you watched him skate in his first collegiate hockey game. Now, that love was different still: deeper, stronger, all-consuming, intimate. You were learning every little piece of him and he was learning the same about you.

It was too soon to say the words aloud, but you could no longer deny it in your own mind. You didn’t just love your best friend, you were head over heels in love with him.

Twisting in his arms, you wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him down into a soft kiss. Just because you weren’t ready to say it didn’t mean you couldn’t express it through your actions.

You didn’t even realize that Cale had messed around with his phone to take a picture until you had pulled away, cheeks warm from both the exertion and the kiss. It was a stunning photo, one you were itching to make your home screen, but one that certainly was going in the file not to be seen by your parents. Cale took a few more pictures before the two of you continued to climb.

When you reached the top of the falls, you took even more pictures, sitting down by the side of the river to munch on one of the protein bars Cale had packed. After a few more minutes rest, Cale pulled you back to your feet and the two of you turned around to retrace your steps all the way back down, across the river once more, and then up to the car.

Your hike had taken you the entire morning, but had been so worth it. Your epiphany aside, spending time with Cale like this was something you had always treasured but that had been in short supply as the two of you got older. So between the bonding time and getting to take in all of the incredible views you’d just witnessed, you were certainly feeling blessed even if you were already sore.

Climbing back in the car, you insisted Cale find somewhere with a bathroom before your next stop of the day. It hadn’t bothered you while you were moving but with draining an entire bottle of water while hiking and the constant sound of water in your ears all day...you really needed to pee. Cale had laughed at you, but complied willingly, pulling up his phone to find someplace for the two of you to stop.

After emptying your bladder and downing another protein bar, you settled in for the short drive to Þingvellir National Park. Having pulled out Cale’s map with the Golden Circle route, you now had some idea of at least the general locations you were going to see.

As Cale pulled the car into a parking lot, you got a glimpse of what made this place so special. But it wasn’t until you had gotten out and actually started walking around that you realized how truly impressive it was. This was one of the few locations globally where you could actually see the tectonic plates. Jagged rocks thrust out of the landscape appearing on either side of you as you tugged Cale along the path. It was sights like this that made you realize how big and powerful nature was and just how small you were as humans in comparison.

Having already seen one incredible waterfall today, you decided to forgo the walk to see the one here in the park and instead just took a couple of photos before heading back to the car to continue on to the next stop of your journey.

Back in the car, you once again took over Cale’s phone for music, his spotify blasting as you drove through Iceland with the windows down, enjoying the beautiful afternoon. Singing along to the music, you kicked your feet up and leaned against your door, partly watching your surroundings and partly watching your boyfriend. He’d relaxed considerably behind the wheel since yesterday and you’d never noticed how sexy he looked while driving before. It wasn’t something you could explain, it was just something that hit you straight in the gut.

Your next stop was to see Geysir, the Icelandic version of Old Faithful. The strong smell of sulfur filled the air and steam rose from the vents and pools of bubbling water in the ground.

“We don’t have to stick around here long.” Cale insisted, his hand rubbing over your lower back as you headed toward the largest geyser in the park. Like clockwork, the geyser erupts every six minutes, so it wasn’t too much of a wait to see it before heading back to the car.

Reaching for the passenger door, you were stopped when Cale grabbed your wrist and tugged your body closer to his.

“Are you okay?” He questioned, palm cupping your cheek.

“Yeah Cale I’m good.” You assured him. “It’s just not the most pleasant scent.” Kissing him softly, you brushed your nose against his for a moment before settling back onto your heels. “Now let’s get out of here.” It didn’t escape your notice, that once again Cale was checking on you, making sure that you were always okay. The way he cared for those around him was one of the things you loved most about him.

It was a really short, ten-minute car ride to the next stop of the day. Though you had skipped the small waterfall at Þingvellir National Park, Gullfoss Falls had made Cale’s list of things to see. Unlike Glymur falls which had been tall and narrow, Gullfoss was a fairly shallow set of falls, that stretched over a much wider area. With the sun shining the way it was, rainbows appeared wherever there was mist from the falls. Everything in Iceland was absolutely beautiful; just being here made you feel more grounded, centered. It was absolutely the perfect trip so far to really spend time with Cale as a couple rather than just friends. This time, the photos you took were silly ones to show your families. But like your last few stops, you didn’t linger long before climbing into the car to head to the final stop of the Circle.

You must have dozed off during that leg of the drive because when you opened your eyes, you were once again parked in a new location. Cale was looking at his phone, but when he realized you were awake, his eyes turned soft as he glanced over at you.

“What?” You inquired, your back popping as you stretched. Cale didn’t respond, simply shaking his head as he turned the car off and moved to climb out of the car.

“You coming?” He eventually called, turning back to face you about ten feet in front of the car. Rolling your eyes, you quickly moved to catch up with him and after paying a small conservation fee, you stepped off the paved lot onto a path. In front of you was a crater lake, its deep blue water surrounded by red rock and green vegetation.

“Okay...don’t get me wrong...everything we’ve seen today has been gorgeous...but I think this is my favorite.” You breathed.

“Yeah?” Cale murmured. You nodded in response, tucking yourself into his side as the two of you just admired the sight in front of you. Waterfalls were great, geysers and faults were cool, but this...this was on another level.

Eventually you’d made your way back to Reykjavik after lingering for awhile at the Crater.

It had been a long day, and you were ready to get some dinner and just relax before maybe going to bed early. Sinking into one of the chairs in your hotel room, you sighed in relief and toed off your shoes. Cale had disappeared into the bathroom and when you looked up he was leaning against the wall, a pensive look on his face.

“So...are you gonna hate me if I tell you we have one more thing on the agenda for today?” He asked. When your shoulders sunk, he chuckled and moved across the room to kiss you. “I promise it’s something relaxing.” He murmured against your lips.

“What is it?” You groaned.

“Dinner followed by a little dip…” You had to admit you were intrigued and you were dying to show off the new suits you’d bought for the trip.

“You kill me Cale.” You sighed, though the smile pulling at the corners of your mouth gave away your compliance. Cale pulled you to your feet and his hands landed on your hips as he looked down at you, content smile traveling all the way up to his eyes. “You’re lucky I really really like you.” You teased.

“Hmm is that right?” Cale murmured back as his mouth dropped to yours for a kiss that lingered, his tongue exploring your mouth. Sighing into the kiss, for a moment you let yourself get lost in the feeling of it all. When the kiss broke, you stood in Cale’s arms, your fingers playing with the hairs at the back of his neck. The way he was looking at you made you shiver and knowing you’d never leave this hotel room if you didn’t start moving, you pulled away.

“Do I need to stay dressed like this or can I change into something a little nicer?” You questioned.

“You can change if you want.” Cale declared, fingers running through his hair. Digging through your suitcase, you grabbed your swimsuit and one of the nice but still fairly casual dresses you’d packed before slipping into the bathroom. Sliding the suit on, you pulled the dress on over it before stepping back into the main room.

“Will this work?” You asked as you slid your dirty clothes into a laundry bag. Cale still hadn’t responded by the time you’d found your sandals and slipped them on and when you looked over at him, his cheeks were flushed and his jaw was halfway to the ground. “Cale…” You prompted, eyebrows raised.

“Shit...fuck...holy crap you’re beautiful.” Cale declared after snapping out of the daze he’d been in. If this simple dress had that much of an effect on him, you couldn’t wait to see how he responded to some of the other things you’d brought, suit included.

“So it’ll work?” You repeated your question, giggling softly.

“Yeah...I think that’ll work.” He agreed, shaking his head before moving to change as well.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d been in and out of your rental car today, but as you climbed into the passenger seat again, you acknowledged that this time felt different. Once Cale had reached the open highway, his hand reached down to lace with yours. Anxious butterflies filled your stomach and it took some time before you realized why.

This was your first real date.

Sure you’d had lunch together, done dinner at your place, watched movies, this whole trip was kind of an extended date...but this was the first time you’d gone out together that truly felt like a date.

It was silly to feel nervous, you’d been together for a month already and things were really good. Still, you couldnt’t shake that little bit of nervous energy.

A few nerves were good though, and you decided to just make the most of them. About an hour after you’d left your hotel, Cale pulled into a parking lot again and the two of you made your way through a winding path surrounded by volcanic rock until you reached the doors for the Blue Lagoon.

Dinner was the first part of this date which you were thankful for because you were starving. With views of the lagoon, high ceilings and a wall made of the same volcanic rock as outside, you settled into a table at the Lava Restaurant.

Once glasses of wine were poured and main dishes were ordered, you smiled across the table at Cale.

“I don’t know if I’ve…”

“You really are…” You both started speaking at the same time, and laughter spread between you as you each stopped to let the other speak.

“Go ahead.” Cale insisted, his thumb brushing against your joined hands.

“Thank you for all of this.” You breathed. “This trip is really special and I know you put a lot of thought and effort into planning it.”

“You’re worth it.” Cale said blushing slightly. “This trip wouldn’t be nearly as fun with anyone else.” Reaching for your wine glass you held it up in a toast, waiting for Cale to mirror your action.

“To us.” You murmured. “To adventures, laughter, and a little romance.”

“To my beautiful girlfriend. My best friend. I’m so lucky you’re mine even though it took us awhile to figure it out.” Your heart pounded at Cale’s words but thankfully your food arrived before he had the chance to make you cry.

Sharing your lamb fillet and Cale’s beef tenderloin, you both got to taste multiple examples of the rich Icelandic cuisine. Your main dishes were followed by a shared dessert of icelandic berries and chocolate. As Cale fed you a bite, you felt some of the caramel sauce hit the corner of your mouth. Before you could reach up to wipe it away, Cale had done it for you and your stomach twisted pleasantly at the feeling of his thumb against your skin.

When your food was finished, you relaxed finishing off your glasses of wine while Cale told you a story from his time at UMass that you hadn’t heard before. Eventually though, you got up from the table and moved to head out to the lagoon itself.

Since you both had suits on under your clothes already, it didn’t take long to put your things into a locker in the women’s changing area before meeting up with Cale. The moment he saw you, you watched him swallow hard, his eyes visibly darkening.

“This. is. not. fair.” Cale choked out. Dragging him outside, your eyes went wide as you took in the sight in front of you. Pale blue water, dark rocks, it was absolutely stunning and you couldn’t wait to get in.

Stepping down into the warm water you waited for Cale to join you, laughing to yourself as he stood on the cement looking completely awestruck. The water was perfect, it felt like you had stepped into a massive jacuzzi and the heat felt wonderful on your sore muscles.

“You’re trying to give me a heart attack aren’t you?” Cale whispered, his voice dangerously low as he appeared behind you.

“And just how would I do that?” You smirked, enjoying the ego stroking you were getting from Cale’s reactions.

“You know how.” Cale mumbled. “You’re absolutely killing me right now.”

You’d hoped to get some reaction out of Cale when you picked out this suit, but you hadn’t expected for him to lose his mind like this. Admittedly, the blue and white of the suit was even more fitting for this location than you had expected and you felt sexy and confident as Cale’s eyes lingered on you.

Trailing your nails down Cale’s chest you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you smiled up at him.

“If you like this...wait until you see what else I packed…” You suggested, slipping away from Cale to head over to the in-water bar for a drink, his growl resounding in your ears.

Cale seemed to recover from his shock a little but not fully and the two of you spent close to two hours enjoying yourselves. You even convinced Cale to not only let you give him a silica mask, but to take a couple pictures with it on even though he was sure to be chirped if his teammates or even his brother ever saw them.

Relaxed and happy, you left the lagoon to drive back to the hotel. That had been by far your favorite first date ever. And it was the best way to cap off a day that had been even better than yesterday. As you crawled into bed, your head resting on Cale’s chest, the exhaustion of such an eventful day caught up with you and it wasn’t long until you had fallen fast asleep.

End of Chapter Outfit:

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