#when looking for a place to chill before she goes home she stumbles across a skating rink | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heliads · 4 years ago

Text

Forever Separated

Based on this request: “Reader is Luke’s girlfriend in the 90’s and is at the gig at the Orpheum and hit by a drunk driver and dies instantly. She and the boys come back as ghosts 25 years later. She’s there for everything that goes down with Julie, Willie, and Caleb.”

masterlist

Your fingers tap absentmindedly on the steering wheel as you careen through the streets. It’s late now, the beacons of headlights guiding you down the asphalt. There’s a grin on your face that won’t seem to go away- your boys are playing at the Orpheum tonight. The Orpheum. That’s been their dream for what feels like forever. It doesn’t even seem true.

By your boys, you mean Sunset Curve, of course. The motley collection of four teenage boys with dreams bigger than the world and the need for a chance to prove themselves. You stumbled across them at a small jazz club, at what had been one of their first performances. It hadn’t been long after that when you had become a friend of the bandmates, and an even shorter time before you fell in love with Luke. When you started dating, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

You had always known that they would make it, even when they seemed to doubt it themselves. You knew they had gathered regrets over the years- Reggie with the fracturing of his family, Alex with his parents’ lack of acceptance of him, and Luke with the way he’d run out on his mother. You had seen it in their faces- if their band never got off of the ground, they would continue to doubt themselves for the rest of their lives. There had been times when you thought that it might be over for good, that they’d be done for before they even got the chance to get started. Yet here you are now, driving towards their gig at the Orpheum.

You’re only a couple of streets away. You’re practically shivering with anticipation at the thought of it- all of their dreams and hopes, finally come to fruition. You, however, are running a little late despite your best interests, and so your foot involuntarily presses down on the gas. You’re not speeding, always careful to follow traffic laws, just making sure you’re not going to be as late as you fear.

It only seems fitting that something would go wrong on this night of nights. Thinking back, you’re almost glad it happened to you and not someone else. You had this awful feeling that something was going to happen to ruin this gig, and maybe if it happened to you it would protect the boys and let their show run on uninterrupted. When you pass through the intersection, this thought may have protected you.

When you see the truck out of the corner of your eye, you continue driving. You know it will stop, it has to. Maybe it’s the way you’re eager to see your boys again, or the fact that the light has been green for a long time now and there’s no way the driver could miss the glaring red in front of him. Maybe it’s just because you feel sheltered by this bubble of hope that comes with seeing the boy you love play at the Orpheum. Regardless, there is nothing you can do to avoid the truck, and you keep expecting that it will stop until it is inches away from you. Then you finally realize that there’s no getting out of this, and it is only then that it is too late to act.

You’ve seen car crashes in the movies. They’re always a blazing whirl of headlights and screeching tires, a hailstorm of broken glass that reflects the light in the most beautiful arc around you. It will be slow, like time itself crawls to a stop, just in time for your head to fly back in a graceful motion. Then it will speed up again, and just like that it will be over.

This is nothing like that. It is over an instant, no beautifully devastating moments. You’re not a marionette to be hung delicately in the air, your strings are cut within seconds. You do not have time to see the poetry in your last moments, they’re already over. All you manage to see is a quick glimpse of a bottle resting in the driver’s hands, a tremendous impact like the very shaking of the earth, and then there is nothing at all. No orchestras reach a momentum, no lens flares pierce the night. There is everything, and then there is nothing. It is painfully ordinary.

There is one feeling that seems to surround it all. A pain, numb at first and then growing to a fever pitch. You don’t know when you wake up, only that it is much later. There’s someone dressed in a paramedic’s uniform standing over you, the piercing din of an ambulance somewhere behind you. You want to form words together and ask who it’s for, but the answer comes to you the second you realize you can’t move a muscle. It is for you. You are the one in need of saving.

The paramedic is standing over you, shouting something about a drunk driver and two casualties, the driver and the girl right here. You want to stand up, to shout to the world that you’re alive and fine. But for some reason, you can’t move at all. You can’t say anything except feel the last of your pulse die from your veins. Distantly, you feel a raw anguish creeping up in your throat. Luke and the others are still waiting for you at the Orpheum. Who will tell them that you’re gone?

It should have been over then. You died, certainly. You bled out on the streets and ceased to draw breath. Indeed, you had the classic fading of color and acceptance of the darkness just like everyone else. It appears that you will only have access to the clichés of the stories in death. It’s oddly fitting. Regardless of the beauty of it, you died. End of story.

Or at least, it should have been the end. Yet, you find yourself standing again, waiting at the back of a crowded room. You stare at your hands, at your body, which appears unharmed. Your eyes travel from yourself to the people in front of you. Your parents sit in chairs, their backs to you. They’re looking over a photo album, crying softly. “She was so young. She could have done so much more. I miss her, even though it’s been so long.”

You step forward, but the ground makes no sound underneath your feet. “Y/N wouldn’t want you to be sad. She would want you to remember her with happiness, not with tears, right?” Your mother nods sadly. “I can’t seem to help it, though.” An icy chill runs through your veins as you realize what’s happened. All you can think about is that you need to get away from here, somewhere where you won’t be surrounded by people mourning your death.

And then you’re gone. One minute you’re in your home, the next minute you’re standing on the sidewalk outside. Although you look around frantically, no one notices your sudden appearance. No one, that is, except one boy. He’s riding a skateboard, long dark hair tucked underneath a helmet. He stops suddenly, staring at you. “Hey, you just poofed here out of nowhere. You’re a ghost?”

You stare at him. “You can see me?” He nods. “You must be new to this ghost business if you’ve got questions. I’m Willie, by the way.” You smile weakly at him. “Y/N. I guess I would have to be a ghost if I died in the accident.” Willie winces. “Ooh, accidents. Those hurt. I died around the early 80s, a couple of decades ago, so I know what you mean.” You stare at him. “The 80s weren’t a couple of decades ago. They were recent.”

Willie shakes his head. “Sorry, man. You must have only been brought back as a ghost recently. It’s the 2020s right now.” You shake your head slowly. “That means it’s been 30 years since I died. How is that possible?” Willie places a hand on your shoulder, and for some reason the gesture is surprisingly comforting. “Hey, not a whole lot about the ghost stuff makes sense. If you want to talk about it, though, I’m here.” You smile at him. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

Willie ends up becoming a fast friend. He explains everything there is to know about ghosts, and the two of you have fun messing around with your ghost abilities, whatever those are. It’s nice to have someone who understands about the ghost business, and you find that in leaps and bounds with Willie.

One day, you’re lying on a grassy hill admiring the clouds when Willie poofs into existence next to you. For some reason, he looks almost flushed with excitement, cheeks pink with thrill. “You won’t believe who I met. The cutest guy. He’s a new ghost, too.” You grin over at him. “Already making moves? You’re unreal.” Willie rolls his eyes. “I played it safe. We had a nice chat. He seems very cool, in a band or something. I think he plays the drums. Alex, was in a band called Sunset Curve. I think that’s a good name for a band, and I’ve heard a lot of bad ones.”

You sit up suddenly, all thoughts of the bright afternoon sun quickly abandoned. “What did you say? About Sunset Curve?” Willie frowns. “That’s the guy’s band. Or, it was until he died. He’s about our age, played in a band called Sunset Curve.” You shake your head slowly. “That makes no sense. They should have grown up a long time ago.” Willie still seems confused, so you clarify. “I know Alex, and I know the rest of his bandmates. I was friends with them until I died.” You fix him with a sudden purposeful look. “I need you to bring me to meet these guys.”

Willie has to ask around, but eventually he finds Alex and discovers that they’re staying in their old studio, now inhabited by the Molina family. You thank him, setting off as soon as you can. As you stand outside the doors to the studio, you find yourself suddenly nervous. Will they want to see you? Will they understand what happened?

The faint sounds of music drifting out from the doors is what convinces you. It sounds just like them, like this is another afternoon from the 90s when you’re meeting up with Luke and the others. You gather your courage and knock twice on the doors, then push them open. You stand for a moment in the doorway, staring. The boys stare back at you. It’s funny- everyone looks the exact same, even though everything has changed.

Then there’s a voice from the back of the room. It’s quiet, as if he’s afraid to say anything lest the moment be fractured away into nothingness. “Y/N?” Luke steps forward, disbelief warring with hope in his eyes. You nod slowly. “Luke?” Luke stands still for a moment longer, then runs forward, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close. You tuck your head into the space between his head and his shoulder, letting yourself relax once more.

After what could be ten seconds or ten minutes, Luke reluctantly pulls away. He cups your face in his hand, just staring with awe. “How are you here? We died- you weren’t at the Orpheum-” You laugh bitterly. “I died too. There was a drunk driver on the road, he hit me when I was just a couple of blocks away. I was so close, that was the worst part.” Luke nods slowly. “I remember hearing sirens. I didn’t know it was you.”

Something like guilt passes over his face, and you hurriedly shake your head. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. I guess you died some time after that?” Luke nods. “Just before the show. We never got to play.” A sad sigh rips from his chest, and you pull him close again. It isn’t fair, not at all. He shouldn’t have died, you shouldn’t have died. He should not have been robbed of this chance to live the dream he always wanted.

There’s the sound of a throat clearing from across the room. “You know, we’re here too. Not just Luke.” You look up, laughing. “Sorry, Reggie, Alex. Love you guys too. I’m glad we can all be dead together.” Alex flashes you a thumbs up from across the room. “Me too, Y/N. Me too.” Luke laughs now, albeit reluctantly. You squeeze his hand one more time, then step into the room, greeting the other boys.

Your gaze falls upon a figure you don’t recognize- a girl, about your age if not a year younger. She has dark, curly hair and a fascinated smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N.” The girl startles. “Julie. Julie Molina. It’s nice to meet you- you must be the girl Luke keeps talking about.” You toss a grin Luke’s way. “You’ve been talking about me?” Luke moves to deny this, but Reggie speaks up loudly. “So often. You have no idea. He’s been very sad.”

Luke glares at his friend, but you just grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Well, it’s nice to feel wanted.” Luke beams at you, still thrilled that you’re here again. “Trust me, you are. I can’t believe you get to stay with me.”

Neither can you, actually. Somehow, despite the fact that you died and came back again, Luke did the same, and you can be with him again. You’ve lost everything- your family, your future, your life, but you still have him. It feels impossible, but it’s true.

This isn’t to say that life is smooth sailing from here. It turns out Luke, Alex, and Reggie have gotten themselves tangled in the mess that is Caleb’s club, and they’ve got the stamps to prove it. You find yourself holding Luke close while he spasms from jolt after jolt, forcing smiles to pretend like it doesn’t kill you every time he’s in pain. You also have to defend Willie to the rest, as he’s been your friend for a while and would never knowingly betray them. You have a feeling that Alex is pretty happy to hear this.

At last, you find the way to save Luke and save the boys- another performance at the Orpheum, this time as their unfinished business. Standing outside the building, staring up at the blinking neon signs, you can’t help but feel some strange feeling in the pit of your stomach. This feels like a sick twist of deja vu. This is how you died- waiting for the boys’ performance at the Orpheum. Staying here now, in the same position but after you’ve died, feels somehow wrong.

You try to shake the thoughts from your head, slipping inside the building to go find Luke, Julie, and the others. This isn’t like that night, you can’t die twice. Everything is going to be fine. Yet when you walk in the dressing room and catch sight of a panicked Flynn trying to calm a visibly shaken Julie, you have a feeling that things aren’t exactly smooth sailing.

Julie looks up when she sees you appear in the room. “Y/N, it’s good to see you. Have you seen Luke and the boys?” You shake your head, a crease forming between your brows. “No, not since I left the studio to let you say your goodbyes. Have they not shown up?” Julie sinks back down in a chair, hands pressed to her temples. “Not at all.” You slump against a wall. This feels like history repeating itself again- you dead, the boys not showing up to their performance at the Orpheum. No matter how many times you tell a story, it tends to end the same way.

Distraught, you wander back through the building to attempt to find the boys, but your search is to no avail. They’re nowhere to be found. You stumble through the auditorium just to see Julie taking the stage. You have a brief, wild hope that she’s managed to find them, but then you see the red rims of her teary eyes and hear the goodbye she issues to the crowd. If they haven’t shown up, then that means-

You try to distract yourself by listening to Julie sing. It brings a smile to your face in spite of yourself. Julie is a bright firecracker of a girl, and it’s been wonderful to get to know her. At least you know you have her at the end of this. Yet when the beat drops, Alex appears in a flash of sparks. You stand up, pressing forward through the crowd as if your proximity will do anything more to bring them back. Yes- there goes Reggie, and there’s Luke struggling to flicker back into existence. You send out a silent plea: bring him back, please. You can’t do this without him.

Then he’s back again, and you feel like your heart might burst. He flashes you a grin, as if to promise that nothing could separate you again. You smile back at him, finally letting yourself relax. He’s here, it’s okay. It’s all okay. When the song ends, you watch through joyful eyes as the boys stand next to Julie, clasping hands before taking a bow. There’s something wrong, though, something wrong when they disappear. Usually, you can loosely sense them when they poof away, but this time there’s nothing. Nothing at all. It’s like they’ve been erased away from the song of their lives.

There’s something pounding in the back of your heart, and you poof away to Julie’s rooms backstage. She appears there seconds later, as if she’s been expecting you. She runs over to you, stopping a few feet away as she remembers she can’t touch you or hug you as a ghost. “Tell me they’re still here. They didn’t just cross over.” You shake your head slowly. “I can’t feel them. They’re not in the building anymore. Julie, I think they’re gone.”

She nods slowly, fighting a losing battle to keep the tears at bay. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. So sorry. You just found Luke again, and now he’s gone.” You force a smile. “It’s alright. We’re just ghosts, remember? We’ve been running on borrowed time all along. I’ll meet you at the studio, alright? We can say our goodbyes.” Julie nods. “I’ll see you then.” You give her one last wave, then poof out.

You reappear outside the doors of the studio. You can’t quite bring yourself to go in, to face the empty stillness of the studio and know that the boy you love isn’t there. What are you supposed to do now? You have no idea what your unfinished business could possibly be. Most likely, you’re going to live out your endless days as a ghost, not noticed by anyone except Julie and Willie and whatever other ghosts you manage to find, forever haunted by the knowledge that the one person you’re looking for the most will never appear around the corner, never be waiting for you again. It’s like you’re back to that car crash, knowing you’ll be separated by death once more.

You hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and straighten up. Seconds later, Julie appears down the path, and you nod at her slowly. “Are you ready to do this?” She sighs. “It seems fitting to say goodbye, even if they aren’t here.” She pushes open the doors, letting the darkness wash over the two of you. She looks over at you. “I don’t know what to do.” You smile gently. “There’s no script. I have a feeling they’ll be able to hear you. Just say what you wish you got to say before they left.”

Julie nods. “I’m glad I got to meet you guys, and grateful to you for everything. You got me back into music, and I’ll never be able to let go of it again. I thought I’d never play after my mom, but you convinced me that I could. Thank you.” There’s a muffled voice from the back of the room, one that’s quickly shushed by two annoyed boys. “You’re welcome.” You stare. “Reggie?” You’d know him anywhere- you’ve heard that voice in band practices for the last couple of decades, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

Julie runs over to turn on the light, and your hand flies to your mouth as you see the boys crumpled in a heap on the floor, in obvious pain. “Did it not work? Did you not cross over?” Luke shakes his head, gently extricating himself from the heap of band members on the ground to stumble over to you. You catch him before he falls, holding him upright. “We won’t play with Caleb, that’s a promise. It’s not worth it like that.” You cup his face in your hands. “I don’t want to let you go. Not yet.”

Luke laughs quietly. “I’m not sure we had a choice. I love you, Y/N, no matter what. You know that, right?” You nod, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “I know.” You feel one last jolt rack his body, and somehow you know that this will be the last. This is it, the moment when he truly dies. You fling your arms around him, holding him close one last time. If you can’t have the future with him you had always planned, you can at least have this moment.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, waiting for the moment when he disappears from you forever. Yet it doesn’t come. You open your eyes carefully, then stare at him. “Luke, you’re- I think you’re glowing.” Sure enough, he’s surrounded by this golden haze of light. He smiles at you, chuckling slightly in awe. “I feel good. Strong, like I haven’t felt in a while.” Alex stands up too, as does Reggie. “Actually, I feel better too. I think you saved us. Both of you.”

You laugh incredulously. “Really? You’re not going away?” Luke presses a kiss to your cheek. “Never again. I’m not leaving you ever again.” You beam at him. “Good. I don’t intend to be with anyone else.” He laughs at that, pulling you in for a kiss. For once, you know that he’s here to stay.

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson oneshot #jatp #jatp imagines #jatp x reader #jatp oneshot #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the phantoms x reader #julie and the phantoms oneshot #jatp luke #jatp luke imagines #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke oneshot #julie and the phantoms luke

232 notes · View notes

bl--ankhaeji · 4 years ago

Text

Picture Perfect

Pairing ~ Johnny x reader

Genre ~ Smut,,some fluff but mostly smut

Warning ~ uhh unprotected sex,,creampie,,very vulgar probably the most i’ve been with a smut so far,,a sprinkle of degradation and praise here and there,,

A/N ~ I wrote this in a couple of hours after inspiration struck,,uhh if you ask me this probably the most graphic smut i’ve written so far,,i really should be focusing on finishing my other shit that I already started but what can ya do 🤷🏽‍♀️,,sorry to the people who are waiting on me to finish shit

W.Count ~ 2.2k

Pulling into the driveway you see the car’s headlights illuminate the quaint house. It’s as if you can feel your heart about to leap out of your chest, the anxiety from meeting his parents for the first time is almost overwhelming. That’s when you feel his hand grab yours tightening his grip a silent way of reassuring you that everything will be fine. “Babe, calm down I can practically hear the alarms going off in your head. Everything will be fine, I promise they’ll love you almost as much as I do.” his hand squeezes yours once more before you see the door to the house open a small kind looking Asian woman sticking her head to see who is outside.

“It's time.” you think to yourself taking in and releasing a deep breath. You see out of the corner of your eye your boyfriend of 2 years stepping out of the car, making his way to your side. The crisp night air that hits your exposed skin brings a chill before you see his hand reach into the car and his loving gaze sets on you. You both make your way to the still open door hand in hand and it’s like your soul leaves your body as the older woman takes you into her arms immediately.

“Y/n, oh my gosh it’s so nice to finally meet the girl I can’t stop hearing about.” You feel safe and at home in her loving arms and suddenly you’re not so scared anymore. She loosens her grip on your body standing back a little to survey your face. “You’re just as beautiful as I’ve been told.” she says and the smile on her face anything but malicious.

“Wow mom I can’t believe you just skipped over me like that. It’s not like I’m your son or anything.” you can practically hear the eye roll in his words as they leave his mouth.

“Ohhh my John-ah you know I love you my big baby.” and you feel the warmth from Johnny’s mom’s hug evaporate as she wraps her arms around her son. “Oh my god why are we still outside. Come in, come in.”

Inside you meet Johnny’s father and the apparent creator of coffee. Having to stifle a laugh when you are reminded of the time Johnny told you about that. Safe to say after meeting both of his parents you come to the conclusion that you had no reason to believe they wouldn’t like you. Throughout the night you even believed at some points Johnny’s parents were more excited to see you than their own son. Which also did not go unnoticed by Johnny who made sure to voice his discontent.

“Babe I told you, you didn’t have anything to worry about.” You both were on the way back to your shared apartment. It being late and the exhaustion that came from stressing over meeting Johnny’s parents made you pretty tired. “They loved you, I think even more than me.” he quips, his jovial laugh filling the expanse of the car.

“Yea, your mom wouldn’t stop complimenting me, I was starting to get flustered. At least now I can see where you get all of your charisma.” you chuckle placing your hand on his that sat on top of the gear shifter.

A pout makes its way onto his handsome face as you notice yourselves about to pull into your apartment complex, “I was a little salty to see my mom take my job for the night. I didn’t get to flirt with you nearly as much as I would’ve liked.” Squeezing his hand you reach into your purse grabbing the keys to the door.

“It’s ok, you have me for the rest of your life so you can make it up to me.” you say not fully hearing what you just implied, but Johnny heard you, loud and clear. Making your way into your apartment you instantly kick off your shoes at the door, happy that you can finally change into something more comfortable.

You and Johnny both walk into your bedroom Johnny making his way to the bathroom whilst you stand in front of your vanity taking off the clothes and jewelry you had put on for tonight. After stripping down to nothing but your bra and panties you’re in the process of taking off your necklace when Johnny walks out of the bathroom in nothing but his underwear. “God Bless Calvin Klein.” you think as he walks across the room to the closet as if it was nothing, and it usually is but tonight it wasn’t.

You lower your upper half onto your forearms, bent over the vanity, “My, what a,” you gesture to his lower regions, “Nice sized bulge you have there.” looking into his eyes through the mirror with hopefully all the lust you currently feel. Johnny stops mid stride and looks at you, his face twisted in confusion before he sees the look in your eyes and you watch as a cocky smirk makes its way onto his face.

“Why thank you, I work it out to make sure that when it grows it’s all nice and strong.” The words fall from his lips like its second nature, playing along with what you started. You step closer to male, so close that you can feel his body heat radiate from his skin.

“You wouldn’t mind if I,” Leaning towards his ear you make sure to lower your voice to the most seductive tone you can imagine , “Take a look.” the breath from your words ghost over his ear and you slowly run your tongue up the expanse of his outer ear before landing a kiss on his neck.

You can feel the low rumble in his chest before you hear it. His hands grip your sides before they make their way to your shoulders and he makes you stand face to face with him, “Be my guest.”

Your body lowers itself before you can even realize what’s happening. Once on your knees you pull Johnny’s underwear down in one fell swoop. “You have one, lovely cock here if I do say so myself.” you drag on,“I have the burning urge to put it in my mouth,” licking your lips you look at the man standing over you, “Can I?”

A grin etches itself onto Johnny’s face and you can see in his eyes that he is having too much fun with this. “Well that is why I work it out ma’am so please do.” Johnny’s words are like fine wine and they are most definitely getting you drunk. You take the hardening cock into your hands guiding it into your mouth. Even when not at full mass Johnny still has a monster of a dick and you feel that at times like these when he stretched your mouth to its limit. Working your tongue down his cock you make sure to not leave one spot untouched.

Your hands find a home on his thighs gripping to steady yourself. Knowing Johnny’s cock like the back of your hand you instantly flick one of his sweet spots under the head. You can feel the wetness building up in your panties and when you massage Johnny’s balls pulling a delicious groan from him you feel like you can’t get any wetter. “Shit miss, you sure know how to suck cock. I think it’s my lucky day to have stumbled upon a slut like you, huh?” He caresses the bulge in your cheek from his dick.

All you can give is a Mhmm taking him deeper into your mouth whilst sucking harder you hear him moan and his hand travels from your cheek to your throat cupping it where his dick bulges. “Fuck, you love my dick in your throat huh? You were so hungry for cock that you have to ask the first man you see if you could suck it.” He takes you off of his dick as you watch the line of saliva connecting you and the head of his dick.

Johnny pulls you up and gives your face a once over, no doubt he’s looking at your swollen lips envisioning them still around cock. He picks you up sitting you on top of your vanity, his forehead rests on yours, “I have to get a taste of you.” he all but forces out of his mouth.

Your hands make their way to his shoulders gripping them in desperation, “No, w-we can do that later. But now I just want you to fuck me, please.” you speak, lips grazing against his. Johnny takes a rough kiss from your lips pulling your underwear down and taking your bra off. He slides a finger into your dripping hole before working in two more. A moan drips off of your lips like honey followed by a whine, frustrated that it’s his fingers and not something else.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to get my dick in here.” and although his mouth said one thing his actions said another, removing his fingers he grabs his cock rubbing it up and down your slit before positioning it at your entrance, but instead of pushing in fully he only pushes the tip in before taking it back out again. He keeps doing that, making you restless.

“Sir, mmm please. Stick it in, please.” your legs wrap around his waist as your hips start moving trying to figure out any way it can get his cock in your cunt. He lowers his head to your neck, biting and sucking fully knowing of the marks that’ll be left behind. Against your neck you feel his tongue lick under your jawbone.

“Mmm at least this slut knows how to beg. Maybe I’ll grant your wish but I’ll need clearer instructions first, what exactly do you want me to do.” His warm breath ghosts across your skin and you have to find every bit of patience in you.

“I want your cock.”

“That’s good baby now tell me where.” All the while he never stops rubbing the tip of his dick up and down your slit and slightly pushing it into your wet cavern.

“F-fuck in,” taking a deep breath only being able to focus on the movement of his cock your mind goes blank, “Uh-uh fuck, I want your cock in mmm in my dirty cunt.”

“Ohh I like the way you worded that. You do have a dirty cunt don’t you baby, just letting whoever wherever use it. I could make you my personal cock sleeve and you wouldn’t mind would you?” You probably resemble a bobble head the way you vigorously nod your head. A chuckle leaves his lips and he delivers a cool kiss to your neck, “That’s my little cocksleeve.”

Like an itch being scratched you feel him push his way into your wet snatch as a moan involuntarily leaves your body and you feel him groan into your neck. His hips snap into yours at a steady pace as he delivers slow deep thrusts. “Damn, you’re like a vice. Gripping me and sucking me in,” he moves his face to be level with yours. A cocky smirk sits on his lips as he looks into your eyes, “Best damn cocksleeve out there.”

His thrusts speed up, reaching deeper every time he enters. Your moans quickly turn into babbles as he moves his hand to your clit rubbing it just the way you like. “Look at you, barely able to form coherent words just from my cock, and to think earlier tonight you portrayed the picture perfect image of a sweet girl to my parents. When in reality you’re just a picture perfect cock hungry slut.” Dropping the role he had taken on his words continue, “But no you’re not just any cock hungry slut, you’re my cock hungry slut aren’t you baby.” his unoccupied hand comes up to wrap around your throat applying just enough pressure to cut off your airways as he lays another kiss this time on your cheek.

“You’re my good little cocksleeve aren’t you?” your eyes practically roll into the bad of your head as all of the sensations come together at once, overwhelming you pushing you to the brink. You didn’t even feel your orgasmn coming, it just took over you by storm. Your body convulses and you’re so focused on the pleasure of your lower region that you don’t even feel the tears roll down your cheeks Johnny lovingly kissing the salty beads of water away. “That’s it baby, cum for me. You’re doing so good.”

“Shit, you’re so tight. I-I’m about to cum.” He alerts you of his impending orgasmn, “Take it baby, take my cum.” His arm comes up to the wall behind you supporting himself as his sentence is punctuated with a moan as he forcefully cums in you creating another mini orgasm to kick off for you. You both revel in post coiatal bliss as Johnny lets you down, and your legs almost instantly give out having been turned to jello. You walk against the wall in order to make it to the bathroom so you can pee.

Walking back in you see that Johnny has moved towards the bed the post nut clarity still in the forefront of his mind. You crawl under the covers and onto Johnny. You almost doze off to sleep until you hear his voice, “You want to get married?”.

#nct #nct johnny #nct johnny smut #johnny smut #nct smut #nct fluff #nct 127 #nct u #nct 2020 #johnny suh #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fluff #johnny imagines #MY STORIES #nct imagines #nct scenarios

325 notes · View notes

doctenwho · 4 years ago

Text

A Dinner In (H’sCFS Pt. 2)

Hello! You’re welcome to request a sequel to anything, even if you didn’t suggest the first prompt! Glad you’re liking the writing, and apologies this took so long! Thanks for the request!

This’ll make more sense if you read the first fic first, as it’s a continuation of Hardy’s Cure for Sadness, as requested!

Warning: None.

Word Count: 3,464

Summary: Read prompt above!

(Photo is not mine! Credit goes where credit is due! :D)

It had been a few weeks since that day you’d been blah when Alec had taken you out for a very late dinner in an attempt to cheer you up. You’d ended on good terms, him walking you out and watching you leave before retreating into the hotel for the evening.

And you weren’t quite sure what the drink on your desk the following morning really meant. Especially when nothing else had followed the late-night outing.

You’d seen him since, of course, as the secretary of the office, but you hadn’t really talked more than before. More than the usual hellos and the customary inquiries about each of your days.

More often than not, there was a tea, or a coffee on your desk, and you were certain it was Hardy’s doing, if by the way he ducked his eyes away from you whenever he saw you sipping the beverage was anything to go off.

You returned the favor, setting teas on his desktop whenever he was out and about, waiting for him when he returned from the chill of the late morning—you always got one for Ellie as well, and she always gave you a wide grin as she put on a show of sipping it.

Most of the time Hardy would duck his head when he noticed it, but a few times he’d smiled at you. You weren’t always around when he’d return, even if you tried to be. Sometimes he snuck in while you were swamped with work.

You weren’t quite sure where the two of you stood.

He’d said some really sweet things to you, and you’d almost gotten the feeling that they two of you were on an almost date, but you weren’t sure. Hardy was a peculiar lad. You knew he liked you, but you weren’t sure if he like liked you...

God, you sounded like a middle schooler with a crush thinking things like that.

But the things he’d said had made your heart flutter in such a warm way—it was hard to forget. The thought of him made you smile, and you couldn’t deny the butterflies in your stomach when you'd come into work to find you fellow secretaries giving you that knowing look before you were could catch on the paper beverage cup with your name scrawled across the side if the cup.

You still hadn’t gotten the chance to really thank him for what he’d done. It would’ve been easy enough to just walk out the door, but he’d gone the extra mile to invite you along. It was nice to know that at least one of your co-workers kept you in mind and noticed when you weren’t quite right.

You weren’t sure how to thank him for it, if you were honest.

It had been one of your fellow receptionists who’d proposed inviting him for a meal back at your place. That had been accompanied by a raised eyebrow and a similar knowing glance.

The thought of inviting the man who was technically a boss of yours over to your home had seemed foreign at first, but you’d quickly warmed up to the idea. You liked to cook, and you’d been told by friends and family you were pretty good at cooking.

Now you just needed to figure out how and when to invite him. Despite the two of you working together, and leaving each other little offerings of beverages, you’d never seen him not completely focused on Danny Latimer’s case.

And whenever you happened to see him on his way in, or out, you were usually completely busy with phone calls, paperwork and townsfolk being annoyed that they actually had to wait to speak to an officer.

He’d still shoot you a tiny smile, and sometimes a wave of his hand that was more or less just a flick of his hand, when he happened to catch your eyes across the room. It was the little things like that that made you heart skip a beat.

Hardy was alone in his office when you finally worked up the gall to ask him to your place for dinner. The door was open ajar, and when Ellie had seen you hesitating by the doorway, she’d shot you a grin and gestured you in from her desk.

You took a breath and pushed the door open, tapping your fingers on the door as a warning as you entered. He didn’t look up from his computer even as the door squeaked. “I told you to run through those cases before coming back, Millhur. You’d can’t possibly have finished already- and if so, go again.”

“Not Ellie,” you bit the inside of your cheek, shuffling where you were standing.

Hardy’s attention shot up from the computer and he stumbled to stand up, “oh, ah, oh, sorry ‘bout that... What can I do for you, (Y/N)?”

He moved around his desk to lean against the other side, arms looking for something to do before he settled for crossing them across his chest. You hid a smile, stepping closer into the room, but still keep your distance.

“I uh, I never did thank you for... y’know, that night...”

“Oh,” Hardy blew out a breath, head ducking in an understanding nod. His hair fell over his eyes as his head turned downwards, “you don’t have to thank me, really, I’m glad I could help. And... I had a good time to, you were good company after a long day.”

You hoped your cheeks didn’t flush as brightly as they felt like they did at the tenderness in his voice, “I uh, well, I wanted to invite you over for dinner as a- a thank you? You were so kind when no one else even noticed and... I’d like to return the favor?”

“Dinner?” Hardy raised an eyebrow, looking unsure. His arms uncrossed, but instead his palms settled on the desk as he leaned back thoughtfully. He was contemplating it, and you had half a mind to wave him off, and offer an easy out.

“You don’t have too-”

“No,” Hardy said easily before wincing back like he hadn’t meant to be quite so abrupt, “uhm, I mean, I’d like to come have dinner with you... if you’re sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I’m sure,” you promise with a surprised smile. It’s small, but happy. Hardy returns a smaller one, body relaxing just slightly where he’s leaning against his desk. “Are you free tonight? Or, uh, when are you free?”

“No, I’m free tonight,” he nods, smiling at how flustered you are. It’s weird, you decided, but not a bad weird. Just... strange. He isn’t much better, just as antsy as you, but you’re hanging onto the hope that inviting him over will result in the same light conversation and easy atmosphere as it had when the two of you had grabbed dinner at the Trader’s Hotel.

It had been a lovely evening, and when the two of you had let yourselves let your guards down, you’d had a good time together. Hopefully tonight would play out the same.

“Perfect,” you give a light laugh, playing with your fingers in front of you, “does six work for you? I uh, I get off at five today.”

“How about six-thirty?” Hardy offers awkwardly, looking apologetic, “Millhur and I’ll be going to check out a lead on the Danny Latimer case, and I don’t expect us to be back before six at the latest. Wouldn’t want to be late...”

“Six-thirty works,” you chirp, flashing him a grin. “That’s perfect...” you rattle off your address for him, before stepping back towards the doorway, “so, uh, see you tonight then?”

“See you tonight,” he nods, finally stepped away from his stiff lean against the desk.

You slip out the door as Hardy returns to his desk. He gives you a small wave as you pull the door shut behind you. You let out a nervous breath.

When you turn around, you’re met with a grinning Ellie Miller, “so... how’d it go?”

----

You’d waved Alec and Ellie out when they’d left on the lead that Hardy had mentioned. Ellie gave you a thumbs up, and Alec’s eyes shifted from you to Ellie, where his attention dulled to annoyance. She didn’t seem phased by it, and you didn’t doubt that he wasn’t always so stiff around her.

You wondered what made you so different to literally everyone else in the building that Hardy barely gave the time of day too as you typed out some documents to be sent up to the officers.

You returned home by five fifteen, in a rush to get started on food. You didn’t know a lot about Hardy, and you certainly didn’t know what he liked. You remember Ellie mentioning something about him barely ever accepting food from her, and that he tended to not accept anything greasy,

You settled on remaking what he’d ordered that night at the Trader’s Hotel. He hadn’t eaten much of it, but he’d ordered it, so he had to have liked it.

You found a bottle of wine you’d stashed away that had been a gift from someone at some point, but you couldn’t quite remember who’d given it to you. It would be good for tonight though, and compliment the meal. You hoped.

When the meal was cooking, and your place had been tidied up for company, you disappeared upstairs to change into something a bit nicer.

A knock on your door came at exactly six-thirty. You smile to yourself at Alec being so punctual. It fit his character; you decide.

You rushed to the door, smoothing your clothes down before pulling the door open and flashing a smile at your guest. For a second, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. He brushed himself out of his shock, letting a small smile curl on his lips at the sight of you.

He ducks his eyes away from you as he shifts from foot to foot. There’s a bottle of wine in one of his hands and a small bouquet of tulips in the other. He looks uncertainly between his hands before his eyes raised to your face, “hello.”

“You’ve brought flowers?” You blinked, shaking your head and smiling to yourself at the small act that had your heart beating out of your chest, “they’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, uh,” Alec swallowed nervously, “I wanted to bring chocolates as well, but Millhur told me it was weird. I don’t... y’know,” he gestured the hand holding the wine bottle between the two of you, “much. Should’ve brought more?”

“No,” you told him, “this is sweet, thank you.” He hands you the flowers and you take them into your hands and hold them against your chest, “please come in.”

He follows you through the threshold, toeing his shoes off as he goes. He follows you into the kitchen, setting the wine beside the one you’d found earlier, while you work on finding a vase for the flowers. They’re beautiful and easily make you heart skip a beat.

“This smells delicious,” Hardy’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. It’s an honest comment, and means a lot coming from Hardy—even if it is just pleasantries.

“Oh, thank you,” you let out a light laugh, moving to set the flowers on the table as a center piece. “I wasn’t sure what to make, so I went with what you ordered because I know you like it. Ellie mentioned you didn’t much like greasy foods, so... I hope this is okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Hardy nods, standing off to the side of the counter before he pauses, “you asked Millhur about me?”

“Uhm,” you let out a nervous laugh as you rubbed the back of your neck, “yeah... I just wanted to make sure I made something you’d like as well and... she spends the most time with you, so I thought I’d see what she suggested?”

The look on Alec’s face is an emotion you can’t quite place; or maybe it’s a mix of a few. You don’t know him well enough to decipher what emotions are crossing his features. His eyes are following you uncertainly, like he doesn’t really believe you’re real. He’s leaning against the counter with his hands intertwined together in front of him.

“Should be done now, are you ready to eat?” Alec shakes himself from his stupor as you move towards the meal you prepared. You grab the pot of your dinner off the stove top and direct Alec to grab the salad bowl from the fridge. You grab two wine glasses, as well as the bottle Hardy brought and take those to the table where Hardy is seating himself.

You take the other seat.

You both serve yourselves the food.

The first few minutes are quiet while you eat, and then Alec offers a soft, “this is really good, (Y/N),” and from there conversations sparks.

It’s light and easy, like you’d hoped. That same atmosphere from the bar, but in the safety of your home which made it even better. You spend some time getting to know each other, talking softly between bites of food and sips of wine.

“A daughter?” you ask, taking a bite of food. He’d been talking about a few of his favorite cases from his time working at Sandbrook, and had mentioned his Ex, and daughter.

Conversations had taken a more intimate turn this time around than when the two of you were at the hotel. Maybe It's because Becca’s not eavesdropping from across the room, but Hardy seems more at ease. It didn’t feel odd to ask, and you were genuinely curious about him and his life.

“Yes,” he nods, lifting his glass to his lips, a smile on his lips at the thought of his child, “Daisy. She, ah, she lives with her mother in Sandbrook still. I... I don’t get to see her often. I don’t have a lot of free time—especially not with the Danny Latimer case active. She’s, ah, she’s fifteen.”

“Daisy sounds lovely.” You smile as you take a sip of your own wine. You’d both steadily made your way through a glass each, and Hardy had topped you both your glasses up. “We're lucky to have people like you and Ellie who are putting so much time and effort into finding the person who did that to him... It can’t be easy to leave her, and I know Ellie misses her boys during the long days and late nights.”

Hardy gave a little nod, attention on his plate. He’d eaten a lot more of his food than he had at the hotel. You’re happy he likes it, from what you’ve heard from Ellie he’s very picky. The wine he’d brought it very good too, and accompanies the meal better than the one you had on hand would’ve.

The two of you continue to chat while you enjoy your meals. Hardy told you a bit more about some of his favorite cases, and the odd arrests he’d made back before he was a Detective Inspector. You, in turn, told him a bit about yourself, and your friends and family. Your receptionist job wasn’t very exciting, but you had good stories to share from other aspects of your life.

The two of you finished up dinner, but continued talking over the wine when the food was gone.

Hardy was actually pretty good company. Maybe it had been the fact that Becca was watching the two of you the last time you’d shared a meal, but here and now, he seemed to be letting himself relax just the slightest.

“It really was quite good,” he told you with a smile as he set his cutlery on his finished plate. Your heart thrummed pridefully at the fact he’d finished his meal, unlike at the hotel where he’d eaten very little. “Thank you for this, it’s been lovely.”

“It’s no problem,” you told him, turning your head to hide your cheeks heating up. You stood gracefully, grabbing your own plate, before reaching over to grab Alec’s as well. “I’ll just get the dishes.”

He pulled his plate back before you could take it, following your lead and standing as well. “Let me help.”

You opened your mouth to promise it was fine, and that you didn’t need any help. He was a guest after all, and this was a thank you of sorts for being so kind to you—letting him wash the dishes with you didn’t really scream ‘Thank you!’ or express your gratitude for him being so much different than everyone else working at that building.

“I insist,” he watched you with a light smile, “please? You cooked for me, so I should at the very least help you tidy up?”

You couldn’t say no to that.

Hardy was good at washing dishes. You dried between tidying everything up, putting things away as you dried them. Conversation was still light and fun, and it didn’t even really feel like you were doing chores with Alec.

While he was distracted with the pot you’d cooked the meal in, you couldn’t help but take him all in. Stood at your sink with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His suit jacket had been abandoned on the back of his chair. He was so focused on the dishes he didn’t even notice your attention straying to him, fond smile on your lips.

You’d never really imagined a domestic Alec Hardy, but now that you were seeing it, you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to forget it. He was just so much different from DI Hardy. Still the same personality, awkwardness and quirks, but he was more relaxed. He smiled more, and didn’t seem quite so uptight—which you assumed just came with the position of DI.

“(Y/N)?” he called, and you forced your attention back. He was holding out a wet wine glass, with one eyebrow raised curiously. He smiled as you took the glass with a sheepish grin, turning back to the sink and picking up one of the few remaining dishes.

Together you tided up the kitchen like it hadn’t even been used that day. It was nice to not have to worry about doing it later, or even the following morning before you headed to work.

“It’s already nine?” Alec’s voice startled you from your thoughts. You turned to look at where he was glancing at the time on your microwave. You really hadn’t thought it was so late.

“Time really flies,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowed in surprise.

“Indeed,” Alec gave a light laugh, “I guess I should be on my way then.”

You thought about inviting him to stay later, but then you remember your early morning tomorrow, and you assume Alec will be getting in around the same time as you. You need some sleep if you plan on functioning tomorrow.

“Did you need a ride home?” you ask as you follow him to the dining room to retrieve his jacket. He shakes his head with a light smile as he slips the coat on.

“You’ve already done enough tonight. Dinner was lovely, and I couldn’t ask you to drive me back to the hotel. I don’t mind the walk, it’s not too far anyways.”

You fight down the rejection in his words, smiling anyways. “Alright.”

You lead Alec to the door, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him step out into the chill of the night. You don’t really want him to go.

You wonder where the two of you stand, even after this dinner. Will things just go back to the way they’d been before like after he took you out to dinner? Did this mean something? You’d hoped this could’ve... maybe led to more, but he doesn’t seem keen on it. “Goodnight, Alec.”

The man turns back to you with a little smile before stepping back through the threshold of the house, cupping the side of you jaw with his hand as he pressed his lips against yours. You’re stunned for a second, but then you’re kissing back, smiling into it.

He pulls back first, leaving you breathless. His hand lingers for a moment, before he’s letting his touch fall away and he’s slipping his hand into his pocket, “goodnight.”

You watched with lidded eyes in an almost stunned silence as Alec disappears into the night. You watch his retreating back as you lift your fingers to touch against your tingling lips, smiling softly as you replay the kiss in your mind.

When he’s gone from sight, you shut your door, lock it and then lean against it with a happy sigh.

You don’t have to wonder where you stand with Alec Hardy anymore; he’s made that completely obvious.

<><><><>

Thank you so much for taking the time to read! I hope this was suffice? It was fun to write, so thank you for the prompt!

As always, if it wasn’t what you were looking for, feel free to prompt me again! It might take a bit though :( Anyways! Have a good morning/day/night! <3

#alec hardy #alec hardy x reader #reader insert #Broadchurch #reader instert #writing prompt #fanfiction #fanfic

179 notes · View notes

avintagekiss24 · 4 years ago

Text

the forest > bucky barnes

|| pairing: bucky barnes x black!reader

|| word count: 11,557

|| warnings: language words, smut, sex, sex pollen kinda, animal transformation, grumpy bucky, angst/horror?, fae/faries, fairy tale vibes

|| challenge: @sourpatchkidsandacokecan Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge - Werewolf AU - You have been lost in the forest due to a curse that won’t let you leave.

|| square filled: @star-spangled-bingo SSB2020 I3: “This is not what it looks like”

|| square filled: @buckybarnesbingo K2: Survival in the wild

|| summary: You wake up in a strange, magical place. All alone, you start to walk and find that you aren’t the only one wandering the trees.

|| link: ao3

|| note: i don’t know why i’m nervous to post this, but i am! forgive me, my brain gets the best of me sometimes. i hope you guys enjoy this - despite the posting anxiety, i did enjoy weaving this little tale. i just hope it all makes sense :)

line dividers by writeyourmindaway!

Your feet are blistered and bloody. You’ve been walking for hours. Your throat is dry, your eyes puffy and swollen; watery. Your sundress is tattered and ripped and you don’t know why. You can’t remember. You don’t know where you are, why you’re here, or how you ended up in this place - but the fear sitting in your belly is the only thing keeping you moving.

It’s dense here. Thick, green, lush trees and shrubs line the dirt path that you walk on. Sun rays peek through the treetops, but because they’re so thick, the trees, it looks like a dark day; a muted day. You can hear birds chirping, little bugs buzzing around, even spot a butterfly or two. It’s beautiful - but ominous. Like there’s danger lurking just around the bend.

You hear crackling in the distance - leaves being crunched, twigs being broken - and you freeze, snapping your head towards it. You swallow hard as you zero in on the noise, everything else going silent around you. You clutch the hem of your dress in your hand, as it’s the only tangible thing that makes any of this real, and just listen. Your heart beats loudly in your ears. A bead of sweat slips down the side of your face. Your breath is shallow.

The crackling stops. You wait for a beat or two, blinking slowly, listening hard, and then you start moving again - trying to find something, someone… anything. You nervously continue to play with the hem of your dress as you pad through this still forest, the soft dirt squishing through your toes. The sound of water soon hits your ears, soft and rippling, and just at the end of the path, there’s a small bank leading to a quiet little river.

You quicken your pace, stepping into the grass, and then the wet sand before you fall to your knees and dip your hands into the water. You splash your face, once, twice, three times, before dipping your hands back into the surprising cool liquid, cupping them to collect a small amount. You bring it to your lips to drink, slurping it in haste as your thirst overwhelms you. Handful after handful, you bring the small offering of water to your lips, barely finishing the gulp before thrusting your hands back in the water.

You’re so consumed with the cool liquid that you don’t even hear the crackling of the leaves behind you. You drop your hands back into the water as you lift your eyes to the other side of the bank slowly. Your breath goes shallow again as you blink rapidly, now acutely aware that you’re being watched by someone, or something. You swallow hard and let your lips part as you turn your head, peeking over your shoulder - and suddenly, you’re face to face with a large, white wolf.

Your chin starts to tremble as fear paralyzes you. The animal’s eyes are a piercing blue as they stare back at you. Its head is low, ears laid back on its head. Its nose twitches as it sniffs at the air, but it never takes its eyes off of you. It lowers its head to the ground, sniffing at the footprints you left behind before it lifts its gaze to you again.

It takes a step towards you, slowly, and then another, and another. You don’t move - you can’t. You just start to tremble as it closes the distance between you, a single tear slipping down your cheek as your eyes cloud over with water. It gets nose to nose with you, blinking slowly as it starts to sniff you. You let out a sob as it pushes its nose into your hair, breathing you in. It lets out a hard breath, tossing your hair with it before it tilts its head towards the sky and howls loudly.

You jump and gasp at the sudden burst of noise as it rocks through the forest. Birds flock from the trees as more howls from somewhere deep in the trees, making you snap your head towards the chorus, your chest now heaving.

“You’re quick,” a deep voice sounds, making you snap your head back again, “Took me hours to track you.”

The wolf is suddenly gone, now replaced with a very tall, blonde, blue eyed, naked man. Your eyes go wide as you scramble back into the water. You blink furiously, pushing more hot tears down your face as your mind starts to race. You shake your head as your face breaks, finally giving into the confusion and fear that’s motivated you for most of the day. The man kneels and tilts his head as he watches you, his eyes still searching as if he isn’t quite sure of you.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, holding out his hand, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” you cry openly, “I don’t - I don’t know where I am.”

“It’s okay, I’ll explain it to you on the way. Come.”

He wiggles his fingers, trying to coax you out of the water. You shake your head again frantically, dragging in a breath, nearly choking on it, “Please, I just, I want to go home. Please.”

“Come.” He says again, his voice still soft- still calm.

“No, please let me go. Please.” You beg.

The man sighs, blinking back at you slowly, “You can’t go home. Come with me please, before something dangerous finds you.”

You stare at his hand, still outstretched towards you, before you cut your eyes back up to his. A deep growl sounds through the trees, followed by a series of menacing barks. You and the man both snap towards the noise. A black wolf moves through the trees on the opposite side of the stream, instantly sending chills down your spine. Its eyes are golden, but a darkness looms in them as it peers at you. It starts to growl again, lowering its head as it bares its teeth, barking loudly again.

“Cut it out,” the man behind you says sternly, “She’s already claimed, Rumlow.”

You gasp when the black wolf changes right in front of you. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, a dark haired man stands on the bank, “She hasn’t been marked yet,” he smirks, his eyes bouncing between yours and the man behind you, “So technically, she hasn’t been claimed, Rogers.”

“Back off. I’m warning you.”

“Ooooh,” Rumlow laughs, “Scary voice.”

You swallow and glance up at the man behind you, Rogers. He keeps his eyes across the stream, his hands balled at his sides, his chest swollen with possession, “Get behind me,” He hisses, “Now.”

You oblige - and fast. You scramble to your feet and step behind him, peering around his arm at the menacing Rumlow. He sneers at you, wiggling his fingers, trying to intimidate you. The golden eyed man takes a step into the water and Rogers transforms back to his four legged alter ego. He digs his paw into the wet sand and lowers his head as a deep growl rumbles in his throat.

You skirt your eyes back to this Rumlow, watching as he turns, thick black hair and four legs returning to his frame. He barks at you and Rogers, saliva dripping from his mouth as he bares his teeth.

They lunge at each other without so much as a warning, making you stumble back as you inhale sharply. The sounds of nails ripping through flesh, water splashing, loud barking and growling fill the air as you once again blink back tears. You stand in utter disbelief as these two half animal, half man creatures rip into each other - one, seemingly for your protection, the other for ownership.

Rogers prevails. He pins the black wolf to the mud, his teeth biting into the others throat and neck, shaking his head back and forth. The black wolf whelps in pain as it kicks and scratches at the much larger, much stronger opponent. Rogers releases him, taking a few steps back but keeps his eyes on the other as it scrambles back up the bank. The golden eyes are back on you as he whips back around, growling lowly, but soon scampers off with a heavy limp.

Rogers watches the trees for a minute longer before he turns and moves slowly back to your side. He rubs his head against your hand, licking your fingers gently. You look down at him, his big blue eyes gazing back up into yours and you can’t help but pat the top of his head. He did just save you, after all.

“Thank you.” You offer softly.

He takes a few steps past you and then turns to look at you, waiting for you to join him. You really have nowhere else to go and knowing now what exactly lurks out in the trees, you’re too afraid to have him leave you. The two of you start to walk back in the direction that you first came. He stays in his wolf form, his heavy paws padding softly in the dirt next to you, his eyes wide and alert as you traipse through the forest. Your mind races with the silence, his words playing over and over again - you can’t go home. You can’t go home. You can’t go home. Your stomach starts to twist all over again. Why can’t you go home? What did you do to make it so?

Maybe it’s a dream - maybe it’s just all one big, bad dream and you can’t wake yourself up. You start to pray, closing your eyes as you walk, pleading with God to just wake you up from all of this. But you don’t - wake up that is.

You walk for hours. The heat beating down on you from the sun starts to wear on you, your throat going dry again as sweat beads on your forehead. Your feet ache as each footprint you leave behind starts to clump with blood. Your vision starts to blur and you stumble slightly, making Rogers snap his head towards you.

He circles your legs, barking a few times before he changes into his human form again. He grabs your elbow, his eyes searching yours intently before he brushes your messy hair away from your face.

“We’re almost there, let me carry you.”

You pull away from him but stumble again, “I’m fine, I -”

Without another word, you’re lifted from your feet with ease. He curls you into his broad, hairy chest, wrapping an arm around your back and tucking the other underneath your knees. You’re too exhausted to fight him. You rest your head against his chest and let him carry you slowly the rest of the way, your eyes closing to slits. You’re barely conscious when Rogers steps through a wall of brush and shrubs and suddenly, you’ve stepped into a utopia.

You blink furiously as you try and make sure that you are seeing what you are really seeing. The air smells sweeter. The trees and grass are alive with motion as a breeze whips over your body. You feel eyes on you as Rogers moves you through this new town-like place. You can see cottages placed randomly throughout the trees as people start to come out from them, watching. You tense, but Rogers is quick to quell your fear.

“It’s okay. Your scent is spreading, that’s all.”

“My scent? I smell bad?”

He smiles a little, keeping his eyes straight ahead, “Not bad, just new.”

“Where are we going?”

“To see Wanda. She’s our seer.”

He moves you through another set of trees and you’re standing at the edge of a large lake. The water level is low - a wispy waterfall to your left barely dribbles into the body of water. That’s when you spot her, a redheaded woman bathing in the water. Her back is to you, but she’s calm as she sweeps her hand over her outstretched arm, smoothing water over her skin. Rogers sits you on your feet but keeps his hand on the small of your back to help keep you steady.

You glance over at him, where he meets your gaze, shaking his head gently as he taps his index finger against his lips, “Wait until she calls for you.” He whispers.

Another man pops up from underneath the water seconds later, scaring you slightly. He pushes the water away from his face with his hands before he sweeps them over the top of his head. He smiles at you, and you smile back without hesitation - he’s so beautiful. It’s a warm, gentle, friendly smile - the gap in his teeth and the crinkles at the corner of his eyes invite you to feel just a little more comfortable. The sun makes his brown skin glow, accentuating the drops of water that collect on his shoulders and chest.

“Steve?” You hear the woman say.

“Yes. I have her.”

“I know you do,” her voice is sweet, thick with comfort and amusement, “Sam, can you bring her to me?”

She disappears under the water. You watch as the other man, Sam, swims towards you and glance nervously over at Rogers - no, Steve. He gives you a reassuring nod and a hint of a smile before you turn back just as the smooth skinned Sam emerges from the water. You quickly avert your eyes towards your feet, as he’s stark naked as well, but steal a glance or two. Water cascades down his rippled chest and stomach, glinting underneath the strong sun.

Sam outstretches his hand, a broad smile lighting up his face, “Hi, I’m Sam. Welcome.”

When you hesitate, Steve steps a little closer, “She’s still a little foggy.”

“That’s okay, darlin’. We’re not going to hurt you. Promise.” Sam reassures, keeping his hand open and outstretched.

You take it with trepidation, allowing him to slowly pull you into the cool water. It feels good on your achy, bloody feet, and sore limbs. Sam turns to you again, “It’s okay if you want to dip under. You’ll feel a whole lot better, I swear it.”

You don’t even hesitate. You push your body underneath the water, closing your eyes as your hearing gets muffled by the liquid. You pop back up seconds later, pushing your hands over your hair as the sun warms you again. He’s right. You do feel a whole lot better - clean.

Sam wraps his long fingers around your arm and places it over his shoulder, before doing the same with the other. Before you can question him, he starts to swim out deeper, pulling you with him. You let him carry you towards the mysterious woman, who is now wearing a bright smile as she wiggles her thin fingers at you as you approach. She swims underneath the waterfall and Sam follows, setting you on your feet before he exits.

“Hungry?” She asks, handing you a small bowl of assorted fruits, “I wish I could offer you more, but we’re going through a bit of a rough growing season. I had to walk for miles to find these as it was.”

“That’s okay,” You greedily take the bowl, stuffing the sweet berries into your mouth, “Thank you, I’m- starving. Thank you.”

“Eat up, baby. I know you’re exhausted.” She watches you as you eat, her eyes twinkling as she smiles. She closes her eyes after a few minutes and tilts her head upwards, nodding every now and again as if she’s listening to something - or someone.

She moans softly as she sways her hands back and forth in the water, her fingertips just barely touching the surface. Then, suddenly, she pops her big eyes open and blinks at you, “My God,” she whispers, “It’s you.”

“M-me? I-” You stammer, glancing around nervously.

She smiles big as she grabs your hands in hers, “We’ve been waiting for you. Bucky, he’s… I promised him you’d come and here you are.”

You shake your head slowly as dread fills your stomach, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t- I don’t even remember how I got here and Steve says that I can’t go home. Please. I just- I want to go home.”

Wanda pulls you into her bare chest, hugging you tightly. She pulls away seconds later, her eyes bouncing between yours, “This is scary at first, it was for all of us, but you’ll come to love it here. You are going to rule this forest one day and drive out all of the evil. You, dear girl,” she smiles at you again, “You will finally bring us peace. Please, close your eyes.”

“Wanda, I don’t-”

“Shhh,” she coos, “Close your eyes.”

You take a breath, letting your shoulders slump slightly but close your eyes. You feel Wanda braid her fingers with yours before she starts to speak again.

“Only the cursed inhabit this enchanted forest.” She says softly. Your lips part as fear flushes through you, “All of us, at different times found ourselves wandering through these trees, cursed to never be able to leave. Each one of us has gained an affliction over time, some sooner than others.”

“Affliction?” you whisper, your chest starting to heave.

“I’m a seer. I wasn’t at first, it came to me over time. I can see other’s afflictions before they manifest. I’m also known to have premonitions and visions of what’s to come. Steve and Sam, they are lycans, able to shift between wolf and human form. Bucky, whom you’ll meet soon enough, a werewolf. Unlucky for him, full moons come around every night. Clint, another shifter of an avian kind. Natasha and Carol, mermaids, unable to walk to the earth.”

“Then what am I?” You ask, your voice trembling.

“We’ll get to that soon,” She answers. You feel the water shift as she moves around you. She drags her hands up your arms and shoulders softly, “Try and remember. Remember what brought you here.”

You focus your breathing, in through your nose, out through your mouth, as you force your brain to try and remember. You squeeze your eyes tight, but nothing forms - not a thought, not a memory… nothing. You shake your head as your chin starts to tremble, all of the fear and anxiety rising up in your throat.

“I can’t,” you start to whimper, “I can’t remember, I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Wanda coos, hugging you from behind, “It’s okay. Relax, just try and remember. Feel the water and the warm sun, just let it carry you away. Focus on the waterfall, hear it.”

Tears stream down your cheeks but you push out a shaky breath as you digest her words. Feel the cool water. Hear the waterfall. Wanda grabs your hand, flipping it over before she presses her fingers into your palm, drawing gentle circles, “Just try and remember.”

A quick image flashes before your eyes - pink. Balloons, a congratulations banner… the clinking of champagne glasses. Then, there’s faces, happy ones - Shelia! Romero and Tammy are also there, all hugging you, wishing you luck. You’ve worked so hard for this! No one deserves this more than you!

“I got it,” you whisper, “I got the job. I was promoted to bank manager.”

“That’s it. Stay there, just remember.”

You see it now. They threw you a party during your lunch break - bought you a cake and everything. After the celebration, you walked back to your desk and there it was - one singular cupcake, topped with pink icing and white sprinkles.

You gasp, covering your mouth with your hand, “Oh my god.”

Wanda sways you back and forth softly, resting her chin on your shoulder, walking you through it. You looked around, but saw no one paying you any attention. You sat in your chair, stuffed to the gills from the lunch and the cake - but you brought the small pastry to your nose anyway, inhaling the sweetness of it. You moaned as a smile spread on your face. You were always a sucker for a cupcake.

You peeled away the wrapping and brought it to your face again, ready to take a bite, when you noticed a small slip of paper peeking out from underneath your keyboard. You pulled it out with the tips of your fingers and furrowed your brow as you read the unfamiliar handwriting. You deserve all that’s coming to you.

More tears spill from your eyes as the realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

You looked around one final time to see if anyone was watching, but found no one paying you any mind. You looked back down at the cupcake in your hand and shrugged before closing your eyes and taking a bite. You moaned again as the spongy cake exploded on your taste buds. It was the best cupcake you had ever had. You finished it quickly and tossed the wrapper and note, before waking up your computer and returning to your emails, not even noticing the little old woman slipping out through the front doors.

“I didn’t give her the extension.” You whisper, your voice shaky, “She was months behind on her mortgage, we had already given her three. I couldn’t. My hands were tied. I couldn’t grant her another extension, I just couldn’t.”

“It’s okay, dear girl.”

“It’s not okay!” You shout, “She cursed me! She sent me here!”

“I told you it was going to be hard at first.”

You pull away from her, spinning around to face her again, “I want to leave! Now!”

“Honey -”

She reaches for you but you slap her hands from you as you back away, “I’m leaving. I’m not- I don’t know what you want, but I’m leaving!”

You move underneath the wispy waterfall and back out into the large lake as Wanda screams for you to stop. You swim hard, and fast towards the shore, feeling Sam and Steve’s eyes on you as they lounge underneath one of the large trees. They both stand, their eyes wide as you stumble up onto the bank, tripping over your own feet as you try and gain some traction.

You run towards the trees, the weight of your wet dress not slowing you down in the least bit. You hear Wanda’s voice again, this time instructing Sam and Steve to let you go, “She’ll get lost out there.” Steve worries.

“She’ll be fine,” Wanda says, taking a breath as she wades in the water, “You’ll just have to find her again in the morning.”

You run for miles. You run until the sun is replaced by the moon and the sounds of the day have completely stilled. You hear nothing but your own footsteps and the chirp of a cricket that you never seem to find. It’s cooled down considerably, your body is racked with chills as a gust of wind whips around you. The only thing keeping you going is fear. You’re afraid to stop and rest, not knowing what or who is out in these woods in the dark.

You push deeper, trying to use the moonlight as a guide but you have no idea what you’re looking for. Every time you think you’ve found a way out, that maybe you think you see a road or hear a car, you just move into a section of trees and shrubs and grass. This forest is never ending. Maybe they were right. Maybe you can’t -

You snap your head and gasp as a loud scream erupts from deep in the trees. It awakens the birds, making them all screech and fly out from their nests. The scream erupts again, this time louder, so loud you have to cover your ears. It sounds like a man being ripped apart from limb to limb. He screams again - a blood curdling one - and you cringe as it seems even louder, like he’s right behind you.

You start running again. The screams continue but each one gets deeper, more animal-like, more painful. You freeze right in your tracks when a loud, long howl sounds through the sleepy forest - a bay at the large, white moon in the sky. Unlucky for him, full moons come every night.

Soon, all you can hear is your own breathing. You cower behind a tree, hugging it tightly as you keep your eyes wide, your pupils surely blown. There’s a rustling in the trees and brush, twigs snapping, heavy, fast footsteps. Another howl, followed by random barks and then rushed footsteps again. Your eyes fill with water as your mind races, unsure of what to do, where to go. You don’t want to die out here.

Smell? I smell bad?

Not bad, just new.

Fuck.

You snap your head over your shoulder, watching as the bushes in the distance start to shake as something moves through it. You push away from the tree and dart off to your left, ducking and dodging random limbs and vines as you try to flee. You keep turning around as you run - but you see nothing. You just hear it. Barking, growling, howling - the heavy footsteps pounding into the ground as it closes in on you.

“Shit!” You cry as you push yourself as hard as you can, willing your feet to carry you faster. Your lungs and legs burn as you cut through the trees, ignoring the stinging cuts on your arms and feet from the branches whipping against you. You turn again, gasping you finally spot the beast chasing you emerging from the brush.

Just as you do, your foot tangles in an exposed root, tripping you. You hit the ground hard, face first, screaming as pain rips through your ankle and lower leg. A shadow casts over you as a large mass jumps clear over your head. It lands on all fours, the ground shaking with its weight when it lands. You sit up quickly, trying to back away, dragging your now bum leg as your fingernails dig into the dirt underneath you.

You drag in a deep, shaky breath as instant tears flood your face. Your body shakes as your face completely breaks with emotion. You stare back into a pair of pitch black eyes. This beast is huge - larger than Steve and Rumlow combined. It howls again, making you scream as your eardrums nearly burst from the sound. It stands on its back legs as it bays again and you could swear it’s seven feet tall. It falls back to the earth with another heavy thud, then lowers its head as it zeros in on you again.

It starts to growl, snarling its lip to show its sharp, white teeth. It barks and snaps at you, saliva dripping from its mouth as it takes a step towards you. You scamper backwards but your back slams into a tree. You try to stand but fall back to the ground as your leg just can’t carry you. It steps towards you again, still growling, still snapping.

You push up against the tree as hard as you can, almost wanting it to swallow you whole. You shut your eyes as the heat from its breath washes over your face, the rush of air pushing from its nostrils tossing your hair. You squirm, whimpering when you feel its wiry hair on your legs, its whiskers grazing against your cheek. You turn your head as it sniffs at you loudly, pushing its long nose through your hair and down your neck.

It pushes out another forceful breath through its nose, making you jump. You blink your eyes, slowly opening them as you turn back to face it. You pull in deep, audible breaths as you stare back at this… thing, this affliction, as Wanda’s words come back to you. Bucky, he’s… I promised him you’d come and here you are…

“Please,” you whisper quietly, so quietly you barely hear yourself, “Bucky, please.”

It tilts its head at the sound of the name - but not in the way you’d hoped. His eyes narrow as he snarls his lip again, that menacing growl rumbling through his chest and throat. His ears lay back on his head as he drops it, clearly threatened. He crouches down as he snaps at you again, dragging his front paw through the dirt as he readies himself to pounce.

You start to sob loudly, holding your hands out as you plead and beg - screaming for your life. The adrenaline and anxiety coursing through your veins becomes ever present as your head starts to spin. Your palms get sweaty, your heart racing and thumping against your chest as your body shakes. You can’t catch your breath, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t fill your lungs with air. You’re hot and cold all at the same time. Your vision tunnels - your pupils shrinking to the size of the tip of a pin.

Suddenly, everything goes black.

Bucky glances down at the woman in his arms as he trudges through the trees. It’s early morning, the sky still orange and pink as the birds start to sing. He’s not sure who she is, he just remembers her smell - strong - calling to him in the dark of the night. It’s the most vivid scent he’s ever encountered. So pure, so heavy that he can remember it even after his change. She’s not the usual newcomer around here - that he can tell.

He pushes into his home surroundings, most of their small community still snuggled tight in their cottages - “Bucky! There you are.”

He snaps his head towards the approaching Wanda, eyeing her as she steps next to him, sweeping her hand over the passed out woman’s forehead, “You know this one?” He asks.

She nods, “Just came to us yesterday. She’s -”

Bucky just nods, glancing out into the distance as he knows what she’s about to say, “She’s hurt. I think her ankle is broken. I might have - I think the gashes are from me.”

“No worries, I’ll get her fixed up. Do you mind taking her to your cottage?”

He sighs heavily, sending his eyes towards the small redhead, watching as she smiles softly, “Wanda,”

“You and Steve have more space,” she shrugs, her face filling with surprise as Bucky scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Sam and I just had a baby. This poor thing needs rest and looking after.”

“Well,” Bucky starts gruffly, “Steve can look after her then.”

Wanda throws her hands on her hips, giving him a stern look before she turns her attention to the shuffling coming from behind them, “Clint? Can you do me a favor?”

The short blonde approaches, nodding his head towards Bucky, “Of course. Who’s that?” He asks, pointing towards the unconscious woman in his hands.

Wanda smiles brightly, “She’s our Faery.”

Clint’s eyes widen as a smirk spreads on his face, “No shit, really?”

Wanda nods, and Bucky rolls his eyes again.

“What’s the favor?” Clint asks, chuckling softly.

“See if you can find Steve and Sam. They’re out looking for her. They couldn’t have gotten far.”

With another quick nod, Clint is now soaring towards the tops of the trees, his arms replaced by long, sleek wings as he transforms. He screeches, his bird call rippling through the forest as he flies out of sight.

Bucky starts to move again, readjusting the woman in his arms as her legs bounce against his naked thigh. He moves into he and Steve’s shared cottage, Wanda right behind him as he moves into his room. He lays the unconscious woman down on his bed before walking back out of the room without a word.

He collects a large bowl from the kitchen and fills it with warm water while grabbing clean towels and cotton swabs. He pads back into the room, sitting the supplies on the small table next to his bed before he pulls open the drawer, grabbing his stitch kit and tossing it on the bed.

“Where are you going?” Wanda questions from her spot on the bed, watching as he walks back towards his bedroom door.

Bucky doesn’t even turn around. He just holds up a bar of soap as he heads for the main door, “Bath.”

Bucky runs his hands through his short hair as he comes up from underneath the water. He’s still not really used to it, but he needed the haircut, and Steve actually did a good job on it. He keeps his eyes closed and his head tilted towards the sky as the sun beats down on him, warming him as he stands in the cool water. There is nothing better than a bath after a night of pillaging.

His mind floats back to Wanda and the strange woman keeping him from collapsing into his bed. He scoffs at just the thought. He’s never bought into Wanda’s bullshit. She’s been blowing smoke up his ass for years, but it just goes into one ear and right out the other one. She’s coming Bucky, I can feel it. She’ll fix this place and she’ll love you forever, plus a day. He rolled his eyes then and he rolls his eyes now. She seems to forget this place is a literal curse.

Who could love you? Bucky pops his eyes open as the thought floats through his mind. Who could actually love a monster like you? “Nobody,” he mumbles to himself, letting his eyes drop to the water. That’s why it’s all bullshit.

He hears a rustling in the trees and turns his head and body to watch Sam, Steve, and Clint emerge. Sam lifts his hand towards him, which Bucky returns with a head nod, before he swims towards the bank to join the three men.

“Where did you find her?” Steve asks as soon as he’s on the bank.

Bucky shrugs, “Out pretty far. I came across her on my way home.”

“She’s hurt?” Steve questions again, his face and eyes full of concern.

“Broken ankle, some gashes and cuts, but she’ll live.”

“You didn’t hurt her, did you?”

Bucky grits his teeth as he narrows his eyes, “I don’t know, maybe. What’s with all the fucking questions?”

Clint slaps him on his arm, smirking all the while, “You know Steve and that bleeding heart of his.”

“She’s our faery, we’re all supposed to take care of her.” Steve says, pushing past Bucky.

“Jesus,” Bucky mumbles, dropping his head into his hands to rub his face, “I’m not in the mood for all of this.”

“When are you ever in the mood?” Sam quips, shaking his head, “Where’s my wife?”

“In my bedroom, tending to our fabulous faery.” Bucky huffs, “Fuck, I just want to sleep. I should have put her in Steve’s room.”

“I wouldn’t talk about your soulmate like that, Barnes. Women don’t like sarcasm.” Sam smiles, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Don’t you start. She’s not my soulmate, she not gonna bring peace or whatever the fuck Wanda is always spouting off about. She’s just another cursed soul, just like the rest of us. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Sam and Clint glance at each other, shaking their heads at the cynical man before them, “Whatever, fuck off. I’m going to sleep.” Bucky grumbles, turning back towards his cottage.

“You can sleep at ours if you want,” Sam calls, “I'll bunk with Steve until the girl is back on her feet.”

“And have that sniffling, whiny little brat of yours waking me up every hour? No thanks.”

He ducks quickly as a rock whizzes by his head, “Don’t talk about my baby boy like that, Barnes!”

Bucky bounds inside his shared home and makes his way towards his bedroom, leaning against the door frame as he listens in on Wanda and Steve. The girl looks better already, the dried blood splattered on random parts of her body gone. Her tattered dress is also gone, replaced by one of Wanda’s hand sewn tunic’s. The deeper of her gashes are sewn together, her feet wrapped in leaves of the bountiful lamb ear.

Her face is soft as she breathes in and out gently. Her hands are crossed over her chest as Wanda crushes up more herbs beside her, smoothing the goop over her flesh wounds. He turns away after a few minutes, as her scent starts to make him dizzy in this confined space. He wonders how Steve can handle being that close.

His heavy feet carry him into the living room, his eyes growing heavier and heavier with each step. He falls onto the old, lumpy hand sewn pillows that sit atop the nicked up couch that Steve fashioned with his bare hands, and grabs the blanket thrown over the back. He covers his entire body and head while burying his face in the cushions as he tries to drown out Wanda and Steve’s hushed voices.

Bucky wakes with a start hours later. A loud pounding noise beats over the roof of the small cottage, making him spring up. He snaps his head towards the front door, finding it wide open. He stands quickly, peeking his head into his room, finding the woman still asleep on his bed but doesn’t find Wanda or Steve. He takes off towards the front door, but stops in his tracks when he realizes what the pounding is.

Rain.

He moves out onto the small porch, finding Steve sitting on the step, “How long has it been raining like this?”

“Hours,” Steve smiles up at him, “Started right after you fell asleep. Do you remember the last time it rained like this?”

Bucky shakes his head. They get showers here and there, just enough to keep the stream and the lake flowing but this? It’s been months since they’ve seen a steady, strong, purposeless rain.

“Wanda had a premonition, a strong one. She had to go lay down.” Steve says gently, not taking his eyes off the rain, “She said this is just the beginning. This is because of her.”

“Steve, come on-”

“There’s not going to be a full moon tonight.” Steve says, cutting him off, “Wanda saw it, Buck.”

Bucky squares his jaw as an irrational anger flushes through him, “That’s not possible.”

“It is. She saw it, Bucky. Wanda is never wrong, you know that. She’s proved it time and time again.”

“I’ve been here for seventy years,” Bucky growls, his tone hard, “I’ve turned every night - every single night there’s a full moon. That’s my affliction, it doesn’t just go away because some woman shows up one day.”

Steve drops his head, shaking it softly. He shrugs after a minute or two, not wanting to pick a fight, “Okay, Buck.”

“I don’t know why you fall for that shit.”

“Maybe because I want to believe in something more, something bigger. I get it,” Steve retorts, “We fucked up in our old lives, but we were given a second chance.”

“A second chance?” Bucky asks incredulously, “You call this a second chance? Bound to a god forsaken forest and having to skulk around like an animal for the rest of eternity?”

Steve hangs his head, but smirks nonetheless, “It’s not that bad.”

“For you,” Bucky reminds him, “Try having your limbs twist and break every night and get back to me about it being a second chance.”

Bucky pushes past him, off of the porch and into the rain. He lets it beat down on him, cleansing him of the anger building inside of his chest before he pushes his hands over his hair, “I’m going for a walk.”

Steve just nods in acknowledgement and returns his gaze towards the gray sky.

You wake up slowly, fluttering your eyes as you stretch out your limbs. You rub your face as you groan slightly, rolling your head into the pillows beneath you. You sit up and let out a yawn before you glance around the unfamiliar room. It’s minimal, a table, a chair in the corner, and a bed. It’s cozy still, even with the scarce decor.

You’ve never felt better in your life. All the aches and pains in your body are gone. There’s no anxiety or fear. Your eyes don’t burn, your throat isn’t dry. You feel so good. You glance down, running your fingers over the hand stitched garment that covers your body. You then graze your fingers over the stitches in your leg, a purple and blue bruise surrounding it, but you feel no pain. You unwrap the leaves around your feet and wiggle your toes before you toss your legs over the side of the bed.

You notice a small bowl of fruit and a homemade mug sitting on the small wooden table next to the bed. You pick up the bowl, popping what looks like a blueberry into your mouth before you moan in satisfaction, closing your eyes as you swallow. You stand, tucking the bowl into your chest and grabbing the mug before you head out of the bedroom. You glance around as you move slowly through the cottage, from room to room, finding it empty. As you pop a strawberry into your mouth, you move out of the second bedroom and back into the living room, where you peek out of the small window.

A steady, hard rain pours from the gray sky. You stand and watch for a few minutes, bringing the mug to your lips and draining the cup of it’s sweet liquid. You sit the now empty cup and bowl down and walk out onto the porch, the defending sound of the rain now unmuted by the walls of the cottage. You reach your hand out, letting the fat drops plop against it as a smile spreads on your face. You’ve always loved the rain.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, breathing in the earth - the dirt and leaves and grass - letting it fill your lungs as they’re all nurtured by the water. Without thinking, you step off of the small porch, right into the rain, letting it wash over you. Your hair sticks to your head, your thin tunic becomes glued to the curves of your body, accentuating your hips and breasts as you start to walk aimlessly through the quiet, sleepy little community.

You move into a field of tall grass and hold out your hands as you walk slowly, letting the blades graze your palms. You close your eyes again as your head starts to swim and a warmth starts to spread through your body, starting in your toes and moving all the way up to your head. You’re not sure what exactly has happened over the past twenty four hours but, now, with each passing minute, you start to feel like you’re home - almost as if this is what you’ve been searching for your whole life.

“What are you doing?” You jump at the sound of the deep, gruff voice. You pop your eyes open, spinning on your feet to come face to face with a dark haired man. His eyes are a crystal blue, his jaw square, his eyes crinkled in the corners as he squints at you, “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“W-why not?” You ask softly.

“You’re ankle, it’s-” he drops his eyes to your feet, his lips parting as he finds them in perfect condition, “What did you do?”

He moves towards you quickly, scaring you slightly as he lifts the thin material covering your body, “What did you do?” He asks again, his voice irritated, his eyes angry.

“N-nothing. Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Your ankle was broken. Wanda had to give you stitches in that leg.” He points.

You snatch the material of your tunic from his fingers, stepping back, “I still have the stitches,” you rebuff, glancing down at your leg, “See? They’re right -”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you stare at your now healed leg. You shake your head, letting out a breath, “I just… the stitches were there, my leg was bruised, just… just right before I walked out here.”

You look up at the man standing before you, your eyes bouncing wildly between his as he stares back at you. You can’t read his expression, but the wheels in his head are definitely turning as he drops his eyes from yours. He turns his head to the side slightly and stares into the grass as he tries to work something out in his brain.

“Do you know what’s happening to me?” You ask softly as you push your wet hair out of your face.

He turns back to face you as soon as the words leave your lips. His mouth falls open, but no words come out. He just stares at you as the rain beats on him, slipping down his neck and chest and abs before it hits the ground below.

“You haven’t spoken to Wanda?”

“Just a little,” you shrug, swallowing hard as you drop your head to look at your feet, “I didn’t really, um, give her a chance to explain it all. I was... scared.”

You feel his eyes roam over you as you twist the bottom of your tunic in your fingers, “You need to talk to Wanda. She’ll explain it to you.” He answers simply as he turns away.

You watch him as he walks away from you. His shoulders broad, the muscles in his back flexing as he moves. You bite your lip as your eyes fall to his behind, sculpted and hard, and his thighs, thick and sturdy. Your stomach clenches. The rain doesn’t help either - the water droplets cascading down his sinewy body, providing you with quick, fragmented images of your tongue licking each droplet away.

You let out a breath, and then Wanda’s words float back to you again, stronger and louder this time. Bucky, he’s… I promised him you’d come and here you are.

“Are you, um,” you call out to him, “Are you Bucky?”

He stops, rolling his shoulders in irritation, “What about it?”

“You’re what attacked me last night?”

You watch as he drops his head, his back muscles tensing as your question reaches him. He turns to face you, his jaw tight, his eye narrowed, “You’re still breathing aren’t you?”

You glance around nervously, “Well, yeah, I-“

“Then I didn’t attack you, did I?”

You swallow. You’re not sure if it’s just you or if he’s always like this, but he’s trying really hard to intimidate you. It’s working… kind of, “You tried too.” You answer back quietly.

He scoffs at the notion, “If I had tried to attack you, I’d be digesting you right about now. I should’ve, I wouldn’t have to eat for a week. That would be a welcome change.”

You squint your eyes at the unnecessarily rude comment, “You’re an asshole.” You spit back angrily, your brow furrowing, “I’m just trying to-“

“I don’t care what you’re trying to do.” He shouts, “Keep outta my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

“No problem there, pal.”

“Wonderful, darling.” He sneers, before turning and walking off again.

You scoff hard, crossing your arms over your chest in a huff. You cut your eyes back towards him as he moves through the grass and your stomach tightens again. A warmth spreads through you as your fingers start to itch - wanting to feel him. Your lips part as your breath starts to come a little faster - a little harder - and you’re not even sure why. Something is just drawing you to him.

You don’t understand for the life of you what’s happening in this moment. Maybe it was the berries and fruit, or that drink that was left by the bedside, but you’re warm all over, your head is spinning and you want nothing more than to feel that man inside of you - even now after your tense exchange. Heat rises in your cheeks as your breath starts to rush. You twist the bottom of your tunic harder as you become acutely aware of the ache between your legs. A fire starts to rage in the pit of your stomach - you want him to put it out.

Before you can stop yourself, you're running after him, your feet squishing in the mud as you move. You reach out for him once you’re close, grabbing his shoulder to stop him. He turns quickly, bringing to you a quick halt in front of him. He scrunches his face in utter confusion and maybe a little annoyance as he blinks down at you, “What? What do you want?”

You push up onto your tiptoes and kiss him hard. You moan into him as you rest a hand on his shoulder and push the other into his hair, pulling him closer. He pulls away seconds later, his lips parted and swollen, pure befuddlement playing in his eyes.

You blink back at him as your chest heaves. You open your mouth to speak, but you can’t find the words. Your mind is just - blank. You rest your hands on his shoulders again and drop your eyes to his chest as your fingers start to trace the light scars littered across his otherwise smooth skin. Some are old and white, some deep and purple, some raised, some smooth. They’re all beautiful - they make him beautiful. You drop your hands down to his stomach, just feeling him, his muscles, his masculinity, his strength.

You bite your lip.

You take a deep breath as you feel his arms wrap around you, his hands cupping your ass before he lifts you right off your feet. You stare back into his ice blue eyes as you push your hands into his dark hair again and wrap your legs around his waist. He kisses you - deeply. You accept his tongue into your mouth, letting it massage the roof of your mouth before it slides along yours. You push your chest into his as your lips smack against one another’s, both of your moans rising into the air around you.

The rain is still heavy as he lays you down in the grass. You tug at the wet garment covering your body, pulling it over your head to expose your nakedness to him. You’ve never been this forward in your life, but something is pulling you, filling you with confidence and power and awareness. You want to be one with him, with the earth, with the wind and the rain. You want to connect with everything around you. You let him grope your breast with his large, calloused hand. You let him drag his lips along your neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin.

He pushes your legs open gruffly with his hand as he pulls away from you. You dig your feet into the wet, soft earth, the mud squishing between your toes as you feel his rough fingers sweep through your folds. He rubs at your clit quickly, not really for you, but for him - just to touch you - giving you the feeling that it’s been a while since he’s felt a woman. Pride swells in your chest.

He then leans over, his lips hovering over yours, his fingers gripping the grass. Then - oh, and then - he starts pushing at your opening, breaking into your awaiting cunt. You gasp as your body inhales inch after inch of him until he’s buried to his hilt - his hips flush against yours. You whimper softly as your flesh stretches wider than ever before to hold him. It feels good. You let out the breath that you’ve been holding as Bucky settles into the feeling of you. His eyes flutter as his mouth hangs, the rain dripping off of his brow and the tip of his nose down onto you.

He bucks into you and you grunt, grabbing onto his forearms and digging your nails into his thick skin. He pushes again, and again, and again until he has a succinct, hard rhythm. Your body bounces with each thrust, your pussy gripping him harder and harder with each pass. The sky really opens up then. A flash of lightning streaks across the sky as a crack of thunder rips through the silence. Not that either one phases the two of you.

You lean up and kiss him again, biting down on his lips as he fucks into you. You wrap an arm around his shoulders and neck, hanging on for dear life as you breathe him in - the raw, carnal scent of him filling your lungs. He thrusts into you suddenly, as hard as he can, and then just stays there, pressing against the deepest part of you. Another bolt of lightning slashes through the sky as you cry out - his name falling from your lips - the sound of it tripping off your tongue sending a shiver right down his spine.

Your pussy starts to quiver as he moves again. His hips are quick and swift, his cock pushing, pushing, pushing until you’re writhing underneath him. Tears sting your eyes as the intensity of the past twenty four hours rolls through your body. Every synapse within you fires as the warm tears start to slip out of the corners of your eyes, the hard rain sweeping them away.

You cry out again as a sharp pain travels through you, your sensitive nipple now between Bucky’s teeth. Thunder claps again. You push your chest into his wet mouth as his tongue swirls around your skin. He bites down again and your hips jerk up into his as you roll your head in the mud. You run your hands up and down his arms, gripping and groping as his weight pins you to the ground. You’re almost certain that as he drills his hips into yours, he’ll push you right into the ground, straight down to the earth’s core.

The orgasm that’s been laying in wait, deep inside of your belly, starts to ripple through you. The sparks start to fly, soft as first but within minutes, the embers are now a full blown fire. You screech and wail as your body tenses and curls into his. The rain gets harder, the lightning spidering through the clouds, the thunder so loud it could burst your eardrums. Another push of his hips and you let out a long, deep growl as your release is finally set free.

The air whips up around you as you come undone beneath him, shaking the leaves of the trees and the blades of grass. His hips still crash into yours as you claw at his back with your fingernails, but they grow more desperate as the seconds pass. A moan rumbles through his chest, then his breathing hitches - his eyes slam shut. You tense, squeezing your slick pussy around his cock as he starts to spill his seed. You want it all, every last drop - not an ounce to be wasted.

You grab his face in your hands and press your forehead into his as you both ride out the waves of your orgasms. The warmth of his thick cum spreads through you as his hips jerk and his body shudders. His body slides against yours until he is totally spent, collapsing on top of you when he just can’t hold himself up any longer. You cradle his head with your hands as he tucks into the crook of your neck. You push your fingers through his wet, dark tresses, massaging his scalp slowly as you stare up into the sky.

The rain slows - it’s still steady, but calmer than before. The lightning and thunder disappears, the wind dies away. You and Bucky stay connected as you drag your fingers up and down his spine. He leans back after a few minutes pass, and stares down at you, his eyes roaming your face as he tries and fails to figure you out.

“Who are you?” He asks softly, slowly realizing the power you hold.

You breathe gently as you blink back at him, “I don’t know.”

You throw your head back as you pant loudly. Your hips roll against Bucky’s as you ride him on top of his bed. You lean forward slightly, pressing your palms into his broad chest, your fingers digging into his flesh. His strong hands are around your hips, helping you move, pushing you forward and then backwards, and then forwards again.

A bead of sweat slips between your breasts but his tongue captures it before it can delve any further. He falls back onto the thin mattress that holds the two of you and lets his hands fall to your thighs, “God,” he pushes out between clenched teeth, “S’fuckin’ good, girl.”

You start to bounce on top of him, pushing more of your weight into the center of his chest. His hands leave your hips to grip your bouncing tits, massaging them hard before he takes each of your nipples between his rough fingers. He slips his hands around to your back, groping your flesh quickly before he grabs your long locs to pull them gently. You groan as a slight pain prickles at your scalp, but smile as you push your hands up to cup your breasts.

The rain picks up outside again as the familiar pull of an orgasm starts to tickle your insides. You work your hips, up and down, up and down, up and down on his cock until you’re quaking. Your clit jumps with convulsions as you come, your thin fingers stroking the aching flesh to exacerbate the feeling. Bucky isn’t far behind, just like the other four times the two of you have made love throughout the day and evening.

He hisses and grunts as he lifts his hips into yours, fucking up into you as his spunk fills you to the brim before it slips back out and down his shaft. The thunder outside cracks again as you fuck him for all he’s worth, until you literally can’t sit up any longer. You fall onto his chest, your breath heavy and hard as you nuzzle into him. Your skin sticks to his as humidity fills the room but you hum happily.

You start to trace the scars on his chest with your index finger, your eyes growing heavy. You still don’t know what is drawing you to this man. One minute, you’re both seething with anger directed at one another, the next, you’re making love like it’s your last hours on earth. With each passing moment, you feel him seeping into your heart - your soul - and you don’t even know him. All you know is that you don’t ever want to leave this bed again.

“I have a question.” You whisper after several minutes.

“What’s that?” He slurs, half asleep.

“How long have you been here?”

He wraps his arms around your waist, holding your body tight to his, “Too long.”

“How long?” You press.

“Seventy years,” he says, letting out a breath, “Give or take a year or two. Go to sleep.”

You giggle but close your eyes anyway, “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

“I’ve heard that a time or two. Now shut up, I mean it.”

“Steve said that I was already claimed. What does that mean?”

“You’ve asked your question, girl.”

“Come on,” you whine, “Please?”

He sighs heavily, turning his head into the pillow, keeping his eyes closed, “There’s evil out there in the woods. Not everybody is as nice as us.”

You sit up, flattening your palm to his chest as you blink at the side of his face, “Rumlow? He’s evil?”

“You saw Rumlow? When?” He asks, popping his eyes open as he turns to face you.

“Yesterday, when Steve found me.”

Bucky lets out another breath, his eyes calming, “He’s evil. It’s a good thing he didn’t find you first.” He reaches towards you, sliding his hand along your face before he cups your chin, “Now, I’m going to put you out if you don’t go to sleep.”

You smile softly and lay back down on his chest, nuzzling into him, “Sheesh, okay grumpy.”

He tightens his grip around your waist and just as you are slipping between consciousness and sleep, you swear you feel his lips on your forehead and hear a faint goodnight, girl.

Bucky sits straight up as a jolt of fear flashes through him. He snaps his head towards the window as the sun peaks in behind the thin, white curtains that cover it. Daytime. It’s daytime and he’s still in his bed. How in the -

Something shifts beside him and he jerks again, letting out a breath as an arm slinks over his chest. He eyes the small woman next to him, her leg slung over both of his, her face nuzzled into his bicep as she drags in deep, calm breaths. The previous day’s events flash through his mind - his lips on hers, her nails dug into his skin, her sweet gasps as he plunged into her over and over and over again.

She’s coming Bucky, I can feel it. She’ll fix this place and she’ll love you forever, plus a day.

Wanda’s words play back through his mind. He huffs, letting out a breath before he lowers his head to his hands and rubs his face. He turns his head and peeks over at the sleeping woman next to him. It’s been a long time since he’s woken up to such a sight. Warm brown skin, long locs spidering across the stark white sheets, a gentle, soft face… it takes him back to the 40s. How it felt to wake up next to his girl everyday. God, he wonders where she is now, if she’s even still alive.

He blinks and reaches out slowly, placing his palm flat on her back. He watches as it rises and falls with each steady breath before he sweeps his fingers across her smooth skin. He cups the side of her face and rubs his thumb across her cheek… it’s been a long time… and it feels nice. She feels nice.

Movement outside of his door grabs his attention and then a soft knock spreads through the room. Steve pokes his head in, smiling softly as he eyes the sleeping girl.

“This is not what it looks like.” Bucky mumbles, rubbing his face again.

“Of course it isn’t,” Steve shrugs, “Wanda’s here for you.”

“Wonderful,” Bucky titters, “Give me a minute.”

When Steve disappears, Bucky turns back towards the sleeping body next to him. He dips down and places his lips to her forehead, and then the side of her face, and then on the tip of her nose before he sits up straight. He watches as she smiles in her sleep, before she hums softly. He smiles back. He throws his feet over the edge of the bed and stands - what the fuck is happening to him? He couldn’t stand her twelve hours ago.

“Wanda,” he starts as he moves into the living room, shutting his door, “What brings you here so early?”

She smirks, tossing her red hair over her shoulder as Steve hands her a mug, “You know why I’m here.”

“Do I?” He asks sarcastically - smirking as she levels a slap to his arm.

“How is she?”

“Who?”

“Goddamn you, Barnes!” She laughs.

“She’s fine,” he shrugs, “Still sleeping.”

“With you?”

Bucky sends his eyes towards her, squinting them just a bit as she smiles back at him. Steve hands him a mug seconds later, which he accepts and sips before he answers, “Nosy ass.”

“You are awfully nonchalant about this whole thing,” Steve pipes up, “It rained like hell all day and well into the night, and then, more importantly, you didn’t turn. No full moon, and all we get from you is your usual sarcasm.”

Bucky shrugs, “Yeah, that was nice.”

“That was nice?” Steve scoffs, “That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” Bucky laughs lightly, “Okay, yes, some weird shit is going on, alright? I don’t have an answer for you.”

“It’s not weird, it’s her.” Wanda says, sending her eyes to his closed door, “She is powerful.”

Bucky rubs his face again, his brain turning, “It still doesn’t make any sense. You have to be cursed to end up here, right? So how does she have all of this power? Where is it coming from? Who fucking decides?”

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times,” Wanda says, tilting her head, “We may have been cursed, but even here, in this place, we all still have a destiny to fulfill. We were meant to adapt and survive for some reason or another. Our afflictions have shown that.”

Bucky casts his eyes to his feet as he runs his hand through his hair. He doesn’t want to bring up that within twenty four hours, her broken ankle is completely healed. That not one scratch is present on her body. That every time she came in his arms, the wind and the rain got stronger and harder. If he does, it’s real. Everything Wanda’s been telling them for years is actually coming true - and he’s found the love of his life.

“What is it? What happened?” Wanda asks, eyeing him quietly, “What are you thinking?”

Bucky clicks his tongue, throwing her a look, “Nothing, damn.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, so help me!”

He rolls his eyes, “She’s… her ankle, you remember? It was broken, clearly.”

“I remember.”

“Well, it’s not, now,” he says slowly, shifting his eyes around the room, “It wasn’t yesterday when she was roaming around outside.” He snaps his eyes to Wanda when she gasps and covers her mouth with her fingers, “The gash on her leg, her feet, they’re all healed up. It’s like nothing even happened to her.”

Wanda’s eyes go wide as she glances off into space, her mind racing. She opens her mouth to speak, but a loud knock at the front door interrupts her, “Babe,” Sam starts as he pops his head inside, “You gotta come look at this.”

The three of them follow the excited Sam as he pulls them down towards the lake. The waterfall rushes with intensity, the water level of the lake higher than they’ve ever seen it. They rush up the hill just to the side of the lake and waterfall to the connecting stream above and stop in their tracks as they push through the trees.

Fish, all sizes and colors, leap from the water and then dive back in as they swim along. Natasha pops her head up out of the water, her green-blue tail swishing behind her, “Do you see this?” She laughs, “This is incredible! We haven’t had fish like this in God only knows how long.”

“When did this start?” Bucky asks.

“Last night, but it was just a few. Carol and I just thought a few got separated from their school, but we woke up this morning to all of this.”

The water starts to ripple upstream as something cuts through it with ease. Once the shadow underneath reaches them, it circles Natasha before it bobs up in the water, Carol’s blue eyes and warm smile falling onto the group, “Go check the orchards. I’ve never seen them like this.”

Apples, oranges, peaches, and lemons scatter the ground as Bucky, Sam, Wanda, and Steve move through the trees. They haven’t yielded in months and now they are so full, they can’t even hold their production. Wanda’s eyes fill with tears as she reaches towards a blueberry bush, plucking off a single berry. Sam wraps her up in his arms, kissing the side of her face as she smiles up at him through the emotion, “She’s going to save us, Sam. We’re going to be okay.”

“I never lost faith, baby.” He whispers, swaying her gently back and forth, “Never for a minute.”

Steve picks a bright red apple from the sprawling tree above him and brings it to his mouth, sinking his teeth into it. He closes his eyes and hums in appreciation as the sweet taste explodes against his taste buds.

Bucky wipes at the corners of his mouth, wiping away the juices from the plumb he’s just inhaled. Wanda was right. He should have never doubted her.

“Is everything okay?” A soft voice sounds behind them, making them all turn. You stand a few feet away, worry written all over your face, the bottom of your tunic bunched in your hand, “I woke up and everybody was gone.”

You cut your eyes to Bucky as he plucks a handful of blueberries from a small bush. He walks towards you, stepping right up to you before he brings one of the berries to your lips. Your eyes bounce back and forth between his, searching for an answer that you’re not sure he has. You’re almost shocked when he smiles back at you. You open your mouth and accept the small piece of fruit, chewing slowly before you swallow.

“Everything’s okay.” He answers, kissing your lips quickly - softly, “We’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you.”

You turn your head towards Wanda as she advances, placing her hands on your shoulder, a smile on her face, “Come, baby. I have much to tell you about your journey.”

#ldamc #buckybarnesbingo2020 #bbb2020 #SSB2020 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #you x bucky #bucky x reader #reader x bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fandom #black reader #bucky barnes x black reader #avintagekiss24

2K notes · View notes

nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

Text

dance me to the end of love (iii)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential percy jackson & the olympians spoilers, alcohol consumption, motion sickness and vomiting

series masterpost: here

a/n: this took me a hot sec to finish but here it is! there's a dumb little latin joke in here but that's just because i'm a nerd lmao

Ryan is certainly giving Bette a run for her money in the best friend department.

Magdalene has no intentions of usurping her best friend, but Ryan is quickly becoming the person she talks to most frequently. It started on social media but quickly moved to regular texting, both of them being twenty-five and capable of communicating through more normal channels. The text thread between them isn’t indicative of their newfound friendship – it looks like they’ve been friends since high school. At any given moment at least three conversations are going on, and Magdalene regularly sends him random updates throughout the day. Ryan likes hearing about any interesting artefacts she encounters at work so she keeps mental notes to tell him during their frequent phone calls.

Despite talking to him almost constantly, Magdalene hasn’t seen Ryan since they grabbed lunch at Barn Owl nearly two weeks ago. The lake house trip is a couple days out, and she’s been busy trying to get all her ducks in a row. At work, the current project is coming to an end and Magdalene will be sad to see it go – it’s the first thing she’s been on from start to finish. She’s got a neighbour coming to spend time with Caligula while she’s away so he doesn’t get too upset. Though the days are passing by in a haze as she tries to get ready, Magdalene is excited to get away for a little bit. It’s been a few years since she’s left Denver for more than a night, electing to skip on Bette’s previous vacation invites, and it will be nice to slow down. Life is moving at a comfortable pace, but having some time to pause and breathe will keep Magdalene from feeling too overwhelmed.

Halfway through her last day of work, Magdalene gets a text from Ryan that makes her nearly double over in laughter.

Julius Caesar walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Martinus please!” The bartender replies “Don’t you mean a Martini?” Caesar shakes his head and says “If I wanted double I would have said so.”

It takes her a minute to catch her breath, which piques June’s curiosity. Magdalene recites the joke and her boss rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but does let out a chuckle.

June didn’t think it was funny, but I did. Thank you for making today infinitely better. You riding with us tomorrow?

Magdalene tucks her phone back into her purse, determined to remain focused for the last few hours, and misses the reply telling her that Ryan won’t be riding with Bette, Tyson, and herself, but rather with Cale and his girlfriend to leave enough space for all the gear getting brought. She doesn’t see it until she’s walking across the parking lot to her car and it fills her with a sadness that doesn’t make much sense. He’ll be there for the entire week, so does it matter that he’ll be in a different car for the four hour drive? Magdalene has a sinking suspicion about why she’s upset, but she pushes it down. There’s no space in your life for a relationship right now, she reminds herself as she unlocks the door to her apartment. Caligula is waiting patiently at the door and distracts her thoughts from the handsome man with the kind smile that’s been all she can think about recently.

The cat is incredibly perceptive and knows the regular routine is going to change, making him particularly clingy. He follows Magdalene as she finishes packing, meowing and begging for pets, and she considers bailing on her friends. Caligula has mild separation anxiety and Magdalene doesn’t go away often partly because of it – though another reason is her homebody nature. Only the thought of seeing Ryan keeps her from hanging all her clothes back up.

“Don’t worry little boots,” she coos, “I won’t be gone long. Maria is going to check on you while I’m away, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

It seems ridiculous to speak to her pet as though it’s a child, but Magdalene knows Caligula comprehends what she’s saying. He’s always been smart, and the two of them share a bond that’s hard to explain. She picks him up, puts him in the pocket of her hoodie, and they spend the rest of the night packing and dancing along to the radio.

☼☼☼☼

Bette forgot to mention that the road to the lake house is winding, and Magdalene spends the entire ride with her head between her knees. Motion sickness is something that unfortunately plagues her during journeys longer than a couple of hours and she wishes she would have thought to take anti-nausea medication before leaving the house. Tyson tries to crack a joke about her being a bad passenger, but his girlfriend swats his arm and passes her friend a water bottle with a concerned smile. The two of them speak in hushed tones, almost certainly for Magdalene's benefit, and she does her best not to throw up on the floor of Tyson’s car. After what feels like two decades the vehicle rolls to a stop at the end of a gravel path.

“Mags, we’re here,” Bette says softly, praying that her friend will begin to feel better after stretching her legs and feeling firm ground underneath her.

There’s an unintelligible groan from Magdalene, but she rises out of the car and stumbles into the house. Tyson and Bette insist that she rest and they’ll handle the unloading of the car, so she crawls into one of the empty beds and falls asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. It’s a dreamless slumber, one fuelled by the pure exhaustion of battling illness while travelling, and when she awakes hours later Magdalene feels oddly refreshed. Her energy level is still relatively low, but she knows that intaking food won’t be an issue.

Padding down the stairs as quiet as possible in an effort to not break the peaceful atmosphere, Magdalene is met with a quiet house. She’s utterly confused – she didn’t sleep long enough to miss dinner and judging by the way the sun is low in the final car full of people should be arriving any minute. For a moment she thinks the group left her in the mountains alone, but then the sound of a trunk closing breaks the silence.

“I fucking told you bro, you should have let me drive!”

Ryan’s voice echoes in Magdalene's ears and her heart skips a beat. She didn’t realize how much she had missed him or how excited she is to see him. Despite everything inside of her saying she should run into his arms Magdalene stays put in the kitchen, running the tap to get a glass of water. She focuses on the mountain on the other end of the lake, framing the setting sun and creating a postcard ready photo. The camera app on her phone is open and angles for the best shot are found. Ryan tumbles through the door a second later, arms filled to the brim with luggage and bags of food.

He drops them the second he sees her, running up behind her and lifting her off the ground. “Mags! Cale almost hit a deer!”

The shock of Ryan’s onslaught of affection catches her off guard, and Magdalene shakes her hand, forcing the picture to turn out as nothing but a blur.

“No hello?” She laughs as Ryan lets her feet touch down on the wooden floor. “It’s the least you could give me after destroying my chance of getting a National Geographic worthy picture.”

He smiles but doesn’t let his hands drop from their perch on her waist. “There’s six more days for you to nail it. I’ll even help if you ask.”

Other bodies enter the house then, causing Magdalene to slink away from Ryan’s touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. They’re simply friends, and she doesn’t want Bette to get any ideas. The last thing Magdalene needs on her plate right now is her best friend forcing her to paint a custom denim jacket with Ryan’s number across the back. “I can’t believe you almost hit a deer,” Tyson sighs in disbelief.

“It wasn’t even close,” Cale grumbles, picking up his bags and stomping off to find a place to claim as his own the next couple of days. A petite redhead follows after him, giving a small wave to those in the kitchen before scurrying away. When she asks, Ryan tells Magdalene the girl’s name is Livy, and that she’s Cale’s girlfriend from back home.

Everyone shrugs at his moodiness and disperses. Bette and Tyson stay in the kitchen to make dinner, Ryan goes to claim the final room, and Magdalene slips outside to sit on the patio furniture. The sun has dropped drastically in the past five minutes, causing the air to chill. She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and watches a pair of birds fly over the lake below. It’s so peaceful, a complete one-eighty from the insanity of her life in Denver, and Magdalene thinks about never leaving. She knows it’s impossible, but as she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet laughter of her friends inside the idea seems like a pretty good one.

The sliding door creaks open and Ryan goes through as quietly as possible. He tosses a sweater in Magdalene’s direction as he walks over, plopping down beside her on the small couch.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping the fabric over her head. “I didn’t realize how cold it had actually gotten.”

He smiles in response and shuffles his body a little closer to create extra warmth. Magdalene leans into him, trying to appear casual even though her heart is beating rapidly, and pulls on the strings of the sweater Ryan gave her.

“So, are you excited for this week?”

It’s more awkward than she thought it would be – seeing him in person again, especially since they’ve been texting almost constantly, and the words kind of stick in her throat.

“Honestly? Now that I’m here I am, but I was a little leery about taking time off,” Ryan explains, detailing how he’s trying to improve some aspects of his two-way play and is worried his progress will plateau. Magdalene understands and shares her own worries about taking time off work even if her boss encouraged it.

After catching up quickly and running out of things to say, the pair of them sit in silence watching the sun set until they’re called inside for dinner. It’s nice to just exist, especially with Ryan beside her, and Magdalene feels her heart sink as they separate and he goes to make sure Cale isn’t actually mad at him.

☼☼☼☼

It storms the first two days at the lake house, forcing everyone to stay inside. Tyson complains about how he has less time to drive the boat that came with the property but the others take it in stride. Magdalene spends most of the time reading for pleasure, something she hasn’t been able to do much of the past few years, and Ryan joins her for large chunks of the time. It turns out that he too is an avid reader, and the two of them discuss their favourite novels and series while the other four play board games.

“So you’re telling me you wish Annabeth would have joined the Hunters of Artemis?” Magdalene shrieks in shock, almost knocking the wine out of her glass as her arms flail in disbelief.

“I think it made sense for her to,” Ryan defends.

“But she’s perfect for Percy!”

He sticks to his guns. “I’m not saying she isn’t. I just think that at the time the offer was presented it was the most logical choice. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what would have happened if she did.”

She ducks her head in defeat because she had imagined it, on many occasions in fact. When reading the series for the first time in middle school Magdalene had desperately hoped Annabeth would choose the Hunters over Camp Half-Blood, gaining the family she herself never was privy to. They return to reading quietly beside each other, occasionally knocking elbows when trying to turn a page.

Tuesday brings sunshine and clear skies, which means Tyson is trying to corral everyone into the boat as soon as they’re up. Magdalene tries her hardest to get out of it but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

“You’ll be fine, stop being such a wimp,” Cale jests. She knows that he’s just anxious to soak up some sun, but the words hurt more than Magdalene would have liked them to.

Livy swats her boyfriend across the chest. “Enough! If she doesn’t want to come she doesn’t have to.” The smaller girl sends her a kind smile before speaking low enough that only Magdalene can hear her. “I know your book is just getting good and you look like the kind of person who needs alone time to function properly. Enjoy yourself.”

Seemingly excused from the day’s festivities, Magdalene gives a sheepish wave before climbing the small hill to the house. Ryan meets her halfway and is appalled when he hears of her plans.

“Nope, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me alone to be the ultimate third wheel!”

He has her off the ground and over his shoulder in a millisecond, jogging lightly to catch up with the rest of the group. Magdalene’s laugh bounces off the tree lined shore, and she’s too busy having fun shrieking at Ryan to complain about being forced to spend all day on a boat away from her book. Tyson peels away from the dock before she can regret tagging along, and Bette tugs Magdalene to the bow.

The two girls chat quietly, giggling and sipping on the mimosas they made earlier. Magdalene isn’t a huge day drinker, but Bette makes sure there’s more orange juice than champagne to make her feel less guilty. Livy joins them a while later after becoming sick of the boys and their shenanigans. It’s nice to hang out with a group of girls that aren’t competing for the top spot in a class, Magdalene decides, and she revels in the stories they tell of going to hockey games and babysitting the children of players so they can catch a break. Twinges of jealousy creep up at the wonderful family dynamic the Avalanche seem to have, but she stomachs them. She reminds herself that other people deserve to have support systems and excuses herself from the conversation.

Magdalene slides into the free space beside Ryan, and without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder. It feels so natural that she wonders if it’s how he greets all his friends, but the looks of shock and Tyson and Cale’s faces say otherwise. After a bit more cruising they find a small bay to anchor in for a while. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky and is unbearably warm, leaving everyone no choice but to jump into the water to cool off. Magdalene does her best to float peacefully a short distance away from the group but is somehow brought into a splashing war because the teams aren’t equal.

Eventually the constant barrage of water chills her to the bone, and Magdalene swims back to the boat. She watches from the sidelines and cheers for her old teammates with a towel wrapped snugly around her. Ryan breaks from the group too, insisting it isn’t fair to have teams on unequal strength. Once dry, he picks up the baseball cap he brought and places it delicately on Magdalene’s head.

“Your cheeks are starting to go pink and I don’t want you to burn,” he explains, passing her a bottle of sunscreen as well.

“Thanks Ry.”

They muse about the idyllic beauty of the scene in front of them until everyone rejoins them. For reasons unbeknownst to Magdalene Tyson is in a rush to get back to the house, which leads to him driving very fast and a little erratically. The contents of her stomach threaten to come up but she holds them down, tightening her grip on the leather seat. A wave crests and Tyson hits it head on, causing the boat to lurch and rock. Magdalene knows it’s going to happen before it does and leans over the side to save a mess from being created. All the alcohol and food she’d consumed throughout the day is no longer in her body, and heat creeps up the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed – what twenty-five year old gets sea sick?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. “I just, uh, get motion sick really easily.” Bette passes her a water bottle and she drinks it quickly, eager to get the taste out of her mouth.

Ryan lets Magdalene curl into his side the rest of the way home, and rubs comforting circles on her back to ease her discomfort, doing his best to ignore the stares from his friends.

☼☼☼☼

The trip comes to an end much more quickly than Magdalene would have liked. Tomorrow morning they’ll pack up and drive back to Denver, returning to their normal hectic schedules. Cale and Livy are heading back to Alberta for the rest of the summer, and Bette and Tyson will be going for a visit as well. She’s heard Ryan mention going home in passing, which most likely means he doesn’t have plans to stay. Magdalene will be all alone in Colorado, but she’s used to it. The only issue being friends with professional athletes is that they leave. She’s been dealing with the loss since Bette and Tyson got together years ago – having them around as her support system most of the year and then them disappearing for a couple of months.

Not wanting to think about how soon she’ll be alone, Magdalene heads outside and starts a campfire. It’s a skill she picked up as a kid and it has come in handy over the years. The newspaper crinkles under the flame from the lighter, and soon the kindling is burning well. Everyone else is still inside, cleaning up from dinner and preparing for one last night in paradise. She places a few blocks of wood in the fire pit once there’s a good enough flame and curls up in a chair, lost in thought about what comes next. There’s rustling from somewhere behind her but she pays it no mind, assuming it’s a small animal wandering through the forest.

“Can I offer you some company?” a voice says softly, waiting for a response. The movement wasn’t a raccoon but in fact Ryan, and Magdalene gestures at the chair beside her with a smile.

He passes her a glass of white wine, which she takes with an appreciative hum. They sit in silence for a moment, admiring the beauty of the setting sun. “I’m going to miss it,” Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and extending his legs.

She nods. “Me too. It’s so quiet up here. Denver gets too loud sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not just going to miss the lake though, it’s also lounging around and not having to worry about hockey. And you.”

The ending comes out rushed, and Magdalene isn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Me?”

Ryan looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re funny, smart, and catch all of my West Wing references. There’s no one who gets me quite like you, even back home.”

It takes her by surprise. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and only really started associating after the party at Bette and Tyson’s. There has to be somebody who knows him better than she does. When she voices her opinion Ryan just scoffs, saying that people treat him as one-dimensional because he plays hockey. Somehow the conversation shifts to Magdalene, and when she lets it slip she gets lonely in Denver without her friends, Ryan asks the question she’s been dreading.

“So why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

“I can’t just get a boyfriend because my friends are gone,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s unsure of where this will go and how to question the follow ups.

He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but like, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone all the time?”

It would be, Magdalene thinks, but she just shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just finished school and for the first time in a long time I can focus on myself.” She leaves out the part where Ryan gives her butterflies and that if he asked she’d probably jump headfirst into a relationship with him.

The topic is dropped then because Tyson comes out of the house screaming about the night is going to be wild because it’s their last together for a while. Magdalene and Ryan share a look of mild panic, but both of them are itching to have fun with friends so they raise their glasses in salute before finishing them in one gulp.

Magdalene drinks more than she should and wakes in the morning with a killer hangover. It seems that no one else is better off though, all stumbling around looking for Advil and coffee like it’s going to be their last meal. Packing up takes a bit longer than expected, but they’re still out before the official checkout time. There’s a bit of discourse on who Magdalene will travel home with. Bette wants her in Tyson’s car, no doubt to talk about how close her and Ryan seem to be, but Cale offers to bring her with them. His reasoning is that Ryan is driving him and Livy directly to the airport, and having the front seat could be good for her motion sickness. It’s ultimately Magdalene’s choice and the idea of having more time with Ryan before he leaves is too enticing to pass up. She bids her other friends goodbye, promising to come over for dinner before they fly out, and climbs into the cab of Cale’s truck.

Once again she’s a less than ideal passenger, but this time it’s because she sleeps the entire way back to Denver. The drinking took it out of her and coupled with the queasiness in her stomach from the winding roads sleep is the only thing that makes sense. So much for extra time with Ryan she thinks as she wakes up in the airport parking lot.

“Sleeping beauty has risen!” Ryan chuckles, “Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs for a sec? We have the parking spot for another fifteen minutes.”

Magdalene does as suggested because truthfully her joints are a little stiff, and finds Cale and Livy grabbing their bags from the back. She hugs them goodbye and wishes them safe travels, which Cale returns with a warning not to get into too much trouble before heading for the entrance. Once both of them are safely inside the confines of the airport, Ryan and Magdalene get back in the vehicle and finish the last leg of the trip.

She directs Ryan to her apartment complex, and he mentions that he’s never been in this area of the city. “That’s because you have no need to be around a bunch of university kids,” she laughs. Once they pull into the parking lot, he offers to help her take up her bag. It’s only a small suitcase Magdalene could definitely handle herself, but she wants him to come up, to prolong her time with him.

Magdalene’s keys jingle in the lock as the door opens. Ryan follows her in and shuts the door carefully, not wanting to disrupt the aura of peace that permeates the space. From what he can tell, the average size apartment is the perfect reflection of Magdalene �� packed full of books and plants and feels very put together despite the owner being only twenty-five. After their shoes find a home on the boot rack and the coats they brought for the drive home are hung in the closet she leads Ryan into the living room. There’s a soft purring by his feet, and Ryan looks down to see an animal. He never pegged Magdalene as someone to keep pets.

“Who’s this?” he asks, bending down to pet the small white cat.

“That’s Caligula.”

A puzzled look graces Ryan’s features. “Who?”

“Caligula,” Madalene giggles. “You can call him little boots if you’d like. He’ll respond.” She picks up the animal when it comes to her and scratches gently behind its ear.

“Why would you name your cat something dumb like Caligula, and why does it respond to little boots?”

It’s then the woman realizes that not everyone understands the reference. “Caligula was the third emperor of Rome,” she explains, “But his real name was Gaius. He gained the nickname Caligula as a child and it just stuck. It translates to little boots in Latin.”

Ryan is in awe of Magdalene for what feels like the millionth time. Of course someone as smart as her would have a crazy name for a pet and have the knowledge to back it up. He feels his chest tighten with affection but he wills it away. She isn’t looking for anything right now, he reminds himself. Magdalene’s self-professed inability to reciprocate his feelings is frustrating, but Ryan knows he’d wait forever for her.

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: catch some extra content here!

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @ricohenrique @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

91 notes · View notes

calaofnoldor · 4 years ago

Text

Fake It ‘Til You Make It

Characters: Sam x Reader (gender neutral), Dean

Words: 3,295

Summary: Dean and his lady of the night are being obnoxiously loud, so you and Sam devise a plan of retaliation.

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, wee bit o’ language, mutual pining and other fun tropes

A/N: thank you for all the love and support on “Dean, Don’t” (there will be a sequel due to positive feedback!) tbh, i’m not sure how i feel about this one, but every single like, comment, and reblog is always super-duper appreciated!

MASTERLIST

Another hunt for the books, another bar tab for your fake credit card. Another leggy blonde for Dean, and another evening spent harboring your secret yet ever-growing crush for Sam Winchester. This was becoming a pattern lately.

You'd decided to join the brothers on their last several hunts after bumping into (and nearly decapitating) Dean in a vamp-infested warehouse in Colorado. That night, you bought him a beer to recompense, but he was rather swiftly distracted by the busty barmaid, and you ended up talking to Sam all night instead.

There was an instant chemistry between the two of you, what with your shared passion for monster lore and college dropout histories, conversation always flowed easily and often without end.

Tonight had been no different, from the moment you walked into the rundown bar in Iowa, and immediately placed a bet on the fate of Dean's evening entertainment.

"Twenty bucks says he goes home with that blonde in the red dress over there," you jerked your head towards the woman in question.

"Oh, you're so on L/N. She's way too classy for him. My money's on that short one over there with the space buns."

"Deal," you shook on it, while struggling to ignore the spark his touch ignited.

Three beers in and you had almost completely forgot about your bet, until Dean swaggered over with one arm draped casually around the shoulders of his blonde conquest. "We're gonna head out for the night, see you guys later."

You waited until the front door closed behind them before turning to Sam with a triumphant grin. "Pay up, Winchester," you held your hand out expectantly.

“How are you so good at that? I’m the one who’s been watching him my whole life.” He shook his head with amiable amusement while digging out a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket.

You shrugged a little, “You learn to read people fairly quickly on the job.”

“Y/N, we have the same job.”

You pretended to ponder this fact for a moment, your brows furrowing, “I guess I’m just a better hunter then?” It was an obvious jest, and you both knew it, as evidenced by the wide, matching smiles that broke out across both your faces.

God, how you loved his smile, especially the genuine ones that brought out his dimples and lit up his eyes, but even more so, you adored any smile behind which you were the cause. Those you stored amidst your most cherished memories and replayed in your mind a hundred times over on nights when the insomnia hit… Oh no, had you been staring for too long?

Abruptly, you turned towards the bartender, waving the newly acquired bill in your hand, and proceeded to order the next round.

Fortunately, the night carried on with its jovial tone, and you were almost able to disregard the desire to touch Sam’s veiny forearms when he rolled up the sleeves of his plaid, or the need to run your hands through his luscious locks whenever a wayward strand fell before his glimmering eyes.

“I guess we should head out soon. Dean’s probably gonna want to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Right, yeah.” At this point, you were feeling a little woozy from the alcohol, and Sam’s hands were suddenly grasping your biceps as you rose unsteadily from the barstool.

“I’m OK,” you laughed it off, but instantly missed the warmth of his palms that seemed to seep through your clothes and set your skin alight. Sam simply smiled at you, yet something in his eyes was so resplendent you felt goosebumps replace the fire along your arms. You must have been staring again, for Sam looked away somewhat embarrassedly and asked if there was something on his face.

Ugh, why did he have such an effect on you? You’d been around plenty of male hunters in the past, some nearly just as attractive, but you’d always managed to keep your wits about you. Indeed, your unrelenting rationality was usually a subject of pride for you, yet here you were, a blubbering mess after a mere touch on the arm and that stupid smile.

Looking down, you grumbled a quick apology and a senseless explanation that involved blaming the booze before you took off.

Sam followed after you, but not before double checking that you had grabbed all your belongings. There was a strong and instinctive urge to look after and protect that stirred within him whenever you were around, and he couldn’t neglect it if he tried.

It wasn’t that you were weak and needed someone to look out for you. Sam knew you’d been more or less hunting on your own for years now, and could certainly roll with the best of them, himself and Dean included. No, Sam knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, yet he still could not brush the nagging need to keep you safe and by his side whenever possible.

At times, he felt as if a spell had overcome him and he was no longer in control of his senses when it came to you. It was annoying, really.

Tonight, for instance, Sam could have sworn he spent the better part of your time at the bar glaring down any man who came within three feet of you, foolishly daring to try their chances with you. He was sure you’d notice his strange behavior at some point, but you simply talked the night away with him, smiling that stupendous smile, the one that made him lose his breath.

Everything about you enchanted him, and Sam often found himself wishing he could just dive in and kiss you, hold you in his arms and never let you go. He was sure you could read it all in his eyes by now.

To his disappointment, however, you never gave any indication of reciprocation, always treating him in a strictly platonic manner, whether intentionally or out of ignorance, Sam didn’t know. But he never dared make a move, and he convinced himself that he felt fortunate enough to have you as a friend.

The walk back to the motel wasn’t long, although Sam took deliberately small steps to prolong your time together. When you reached the brothers’ room, your eyes fell upon a grey sock dangling unceremoniously from the doorknob. So Dean had taken Blondie to his motel room.

“How’s that for classy?” you looked up at Sam with a small smirk.

He let out a huff of a laugh and shook his head while staring at the sock. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he spent a night in the Impala.

“Hey, why don’t you just come over to my room,” you suggested as you motioned next door, “We can chill in there for a bit, wait it out?”

Sam’s eyes shot up to your face. All he had to hear was “come over to my room,” and his brain immediately began imagining all the potential scenarios those five little words could lead to… if you felt even an inkling of what he felt for you. He gulped and tried to reel his thoughts in, meeting your gaze with a dreamy look.

“Um… yeah, OK, sure, yeah. That sounds good. I mean, you sure you don’t mind?” he stumbled out.

You laughed that brilliant laugh, “No, I should probably sober up a little before I sleep anyway.”

Sam nodded, afraid of what words might escape if he opened his mouth again, and the two of you made your way towards the adjacent motel room. He watched as your delicate hands worked the key and instantly took note of the angry red scrapes and cuts along your palm when you turned your wrist to unlock the door.

Brows knit with concern, Sam silently berated himself for failing to take better care of you. He remembered you took a nasty fall when the ghost had thrown you aside to get to the brothers as they burned the necklace that tethered it to this realm. You must have landed on the concrete and braced yourself with your hands.

As you both stepped into the dim and modest room, Sam was about to ask for your first aid kit when you suddenly brought your arms overhead and stretched out your lithe body with a soft, satisfactory grunt. When the hem of your shirt rode up, Sam had to look away to stop himself from staring at the anti-possession tattoo that peeked out above your hip bone. Just that sliver of skin was so alluring to him; he really was in deep.

When you lowered your arms back down, you sent him a small, apologetic smile, “Sorry, it just always feels good to do that after a hunt and a night out in town.”

Sam nodded again, still finding it difficult to come up with the right words, but then he remembered his previous mission. “Give me your hand.”

“W-what?” you stuttered, dumbfoundedly. It was your turn to wonder if you’d heard right.

“Your hand, let me see it.” He repeated, and this time he simply caught your wrist and took your hand gingerly in his, turning it such that your palm faced up, so he could examine the extent of the damage.

“Oh,” you breathed out, slightly relieved, “It’s fine, it’s just a scratch.” You tried to pull your hand out of his intoxicating grip, but he held on quite firmly.

“Y/N, we need to clean these and bandage them so they don’t get infected.”

He had pulled you rather close to him, to the point where you could feel his body heat emanating towards you, and you hated to admit the proximity was really messing with your mind. All you could think about was the deliciously muscled torso that surely lay beneath those layers of cotton, and what it would feel like to run your hands across it.

Sam took advantage of your lack of response and led you to sit on the edge of the bed. As he went to look for the first aid kit, you couldn’t help but admire his backside, especially when he bent over to rummage through your duffle bag in the corner.

When he returned to your side, you quickly closed your jaw and reached over for the cleaning supplies, but he held it out of your reach and grasped your hand again instead. Your eyes met for moment, and almost as if on cue, a loud, lascivious moan came through the room’s thin walls.

Sam felt his cheeks heat up, and hastily averted his gaze. He mentally cursed his brother’s wanton ways, but when he heard your giggling, all was forgiven.

“I guess someone’s having a good time.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think this’ll be quite as enjoyable for you.” He motioned to the alcohol in his other hand with a sheepish smile, “I probably don’t need to tell you this is gonna hurt.”

You shook your head slightly, but still winced a little when he poured the disinfectant over your wounds.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry.” Sam sounded truly remorseful and you chuckled.

“What are you sorry for? It’s not like you threw me to the ground, and besides, you’re helping me now,” you murmured softly.

“Well you did get in it’s way to protect m- us. And I don’t like to see you in pain.”

He meant ‘people’ of course, you told yourself in vain. He’s obviously a nice guy and he doesn’t like to see anyone in pain. That’s why he’s a hunter. Duh.

You were trying, unsuccessfully, to slow your heart rate when another emphatic cry came from the direction of the older Winchester’s room.

“Oh! Oh my god!” The high pitch had your eyes widening.

“You can call me Dean, sweetheart,” came the muted reply.

You and Sam both rolled your eyes before he continued to treat and bandage your hand. His fingers, though rough, were improbably gentle against your skin and frequently sent shivers down your spine. It was all making you quite jittery and you really weren’t sure you could take it much longer. To exacerbate things, Dean and Blondie managed to vocalize their passions on at least five more occasions by the time Sam completed his work.

It was becoming rather aggravating, particularly because you found it extraordinarily hard to look Sam in the eyes or maintain a normal conversation with him when you were constantly getting bombarded by the sounds of his brother and his lady of the night copulating next door.

You stood as soon as Sam let go of your hand, needing to release some energy. “You know what, we can’t just let them dick us around like this all night!”

Sam laughed at your word choice and looked up at you, a fond curiosity shining through his eyes, “OK, but what could we possibly do to get back at them?”

You paused your pacing for a minute, racking your brain for an answer to their impudence. Sam watched as a gleam appeared in your eyes and a mischievous smile took over your features.

“I’ve got it! My friend and I used to do this back in college when our roommate brought dates home and they got a little too carried away. It’s basically a game of chicken.”

Sam raised his brow in question so you continued, “If they’re gonna be obnoxiously loud with their fornication rituals, then we can go at it too.”

“I-I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s simple. An eye for an eye. We don’t even have to make it sound real, just as long as it’s equally loud and disturbing.”

“Y/N, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? That we pretend to have s-sex?” Sam was feeling considerably dubious about your plan, as he couldn’t imagine himself holding back if you were to act in any way sensual around him, even if it was all make believe.

Just then, another resounding squeal of pleasure travelled to your ears and before Sam could stop you, you took the opportunity to show him what you were talking about.

“Oh! Yes!” You exclaimed salaciously in return.

Sam’s eyes grew as he stared at you in disbelief. Your own eyes were closed and your face contorted to an expression of intense pleasure that Sam had only dreamed about. He couldn’t stop fidgeting in his place on the bed, thankful that the first aid kit still sat on his lap as he adjusted his trousers a bit.

“Y/N, I don’t-“

“Come on, Sammy, join me! Trust me, it works every time.”

Sam didn’t have time to contemplate how much he loved the sound of his childhood nickname rolling off your tongue because a second howl came from the next room, this time lower in pitch, though you were there to answer regardless. “Oh my gosh, yes! Right there!”

If Sam thought the effect that you had on him normally was overwhelming, he was undoubtedly unprepared for the way his body responded to you making ludicrously pornographic sounds not two feet from him. Everything seemed to disappear around him until only you remained and held the entirety of his focus.

“Ooh, faster! Harder, Sam!”

Fuck. You said his name. And you said it with lust in your voice. It was as if all his fantasies had come to life before him in some twisted and desperately maddening form. Something in him snapped, and before he knew it, he was standing across from you, staring fixedly at your face, as you shouted in unison.

“Ungh! Oh god, Y/N!”

“Yes, that’s it! Don’t stop!”

Sam’s deep voice compelled your eyes to snap open. He was already looking straight at you, and you could almost taste the tension.

“Oh, baby! You feel so good!”

You didn’t join him this time. You couldn’t. He had you in a trance, his lips, jaw, neck, shoulders, the way his chest moved towards you when he inhaled, the sheer size of him. It was all too much. So you simply stared, feeling your breath come and go faster than you were used to.

There was a split second, or perhaps it was a lifetime, in which the two of you stood still, eyes locked in a fiery exchange, but in the next instant you both lunged forward, lips and teeth and noses and bodies clashing in a passionate, long-awaited display of carnal thirst.

But the kiss ended far too soon for your liking. “Wait, wait, Y/N. I really want this, but you’re probably still drunk, and I don’t wanna take advantage of you or the situation.” Sam panted hurriedly.

You smiled at his chivalry yet shook your head in disagreement, “Sam, don’t be an idjit. I don’t think I’ve ever been more sober, and I definitely haven’t wanted anything more than this, right now.” Your voice was just as breathy.

Sam moved his hands back to your face and that glorious, dimpled smile returned, “Baby, are you sure?”

The nickname brought a flutter to your heart, “Yes, I swear to heaven and hell, if you don’t kiss me again, Sam Winchester-“

His lips cut yours off in another bruising yet completely satisfying declaration of need. Your back arched and he brought one hand down to pull your waist flush against his solid form.

“Mmph,” you moaned against his mouth.

God, Sam couldn’t handle the sounds you made. A man could only hold back for so long. His enormous moose hands frantically grabbed at your ass, hoisting you into his arms in no time and carrying you back towards the bed.

Let’s just say Dean and Blondie truly had no idea of the spectacular and thunderous show they were in for.

The next morning, Sam awoke with a warm weight on his chest. He looked down to find your slumbering form nuzzled against him, head tucked beneath his chin and legs messily intertwined. A fond smile crossed his face as he subconsciously tightened his hold on you and pressed a loving kiss to your forehead. The feeling of elation didn't fade as he closed his eyes to rest again, but it did recede ever so slightly to the backburner when the door clicked and his brother came barging in. “Alright, rise and shine, lovebirds! That was quite the show you guys put on last night, hope it didn't-“ “Shhh! Dean, shut up!” Sam shushed his brother with a stage whisper whilst scrambling to cover your bare back with the disheveled sheets surrounding you, but Dean had already glimpsed the evidence. “Sammy, you sly dog!” He wiggled his brows, grinning proudly at his little brother, "And here I thought I was the only one who got laid last night." “Dean, get out.” "Yeah ok, I'm gone," he raised his hands in assent. "But tell your sweetheart we're leaving in twenty," Dean added before he finally let the door shut behind him.

His sweetheart. Sam sure liked the sound of that. The corners of his lips struggled not to raise with glee. "Mm, was that Dean?" you mumbled against Sam's chest, fingers tracing the ink of his anti-possession tattoo with half-lidded eyes. "Yeah, just came to tell us we're leaving in twenty." He gave your hip a gentle squeeze "He knows, doesn’t he?" You rubbed your eyes with a yawn. Sam chuckled at your adorably sleepy state. “Yeah, sorry…” he trailed off, unsure of how you would respond to the news.

“Well, don’t be. That just means I get to do this whenever I want.” You lifted your head to kiss him hard, and his hands instinctively cradled your face, pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap and completely awake.

“You know, I think we still have about 15 minutes.”

“I like the way you think, Winchester.”

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading! i’d now like to apologize for this obligatory self plug, but there’s new stuff available at lexicolor.redbubble.com, just fyi :)

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x male!reader #sam winchester x female!reader #mutual pining #sammy's got a crush #fake it #supernatural #spn #fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #my writing #text #fanart #redbubble #lexicolor

573 notes · View notes

lysmune · 3 years ago

Text

Hoarfrost Heart

Human still

Pairing: KaeLumi CW: Kaeya has an anxious breakdown near the end, and a lot of this fic deals with his trauma of not opening up to people.

Blood is a loyal follower to Kaeya’s truths, a faint whisper that reminds him of everything that could—has—happened if he slivered an inch of his thoughts. It is the scent of iron he could never wash out, not from the thin line of death across the necks of so many people, not from his hands, nor from the soles of his feet, split open as he walks across the evergreen growth of thorns, fed fat from his deceit.

These are only skin deep, is how he convinces himself as he tucks the unease behind a veiled smile that pinches his cheeks. Flesh wounds will heal but honesty, baring an unguarded heart out upon his sleeve, is a dangerous game and Kaeya has no desire to tempt mortality again.

One narrow escape is enough.

Sweet words, sweeter lies, he offers those instead. They always repay him in trust, a valuable currency he never quite could give away, so he sacrifices what spare human feeling he has for the pristine beauty of a white winter when he responds. Clean, untainted, pure.

It is easier to deal with the disease that is loneliness than a knife to the back.

A laid-back, duty-shirking cavalry captain, whose dull seaward lineage is made riveting through ten rounds of Death After Noon. That is who Kaeya is.

That is how he introduces himself to Mondstadt.

That is the image he’ll set in the starlit traveller’s mind.

That is who she, with unabashed vocality, politely refuses to believe.

Lumine chalks it up to the vagueness of a hunch, and he can’t help but roll his eyes, click his tongue. Sure, he might enjoy throwing the same reason around, but it feels like complete nonsense to have it flung back at him. He pouts, intentionally puppy-like and innocent, and pleads with a tone of feigned hurt.

Lumine laughs.

Laughs and looks at him with topaz-cut eyes, eyes like honeyed spring water. Kaeya can’t decide whether he should feel offended at her subtle dig, or honoured that he’s made her smile. He settles on brushing it off with a shrug and a, “Well, you’ve got me there.”

“I know,” is Lumine’s response, a simple phrase that holds much more depth than it lets on, and he wonders if she’s seen just what it is he’s truly hiding.

The prospect sends chills down his spine. Does she know me, more than I do?

Kaeya drowns those fears in the tavern, his local safe haven, a place away from his worries and her all-seeing gaze. It is short-lived some nights, languorous on the others, but at least, here, the chatter is comfortable. Leaning forward, he listens to the slurred words, the odd secrets, to keep his thoughts at bay.

And yet

And yet, Kaeya finds himself following the wide expanse of her back, her small frame belying her insurmountable strength as she carries every single burden in silence. “Trust me,” she would assure with her sunlit smile. Kaeya would never admit it, but he does—he wants to.

But what has trust ever given me?

Rain and ichor, and festering wounds.

Everything is unflinchingly loud. How laughable, how maddeningly soft of him, to be so weak in his resolve. Against the hushed humdrum dawn, he watches her leave the gates.

They say if you stare too long at the sun, you’ll go blind. In her presence, Kaeya feels robbed of his vision. He looks to her footprints instead, at the trail of fireflies she leaves in her wake. They don’t hurt him as much as her wayward glances do, not as much as the sincerity in her voice when she reminds him that he can always seek her company when he needs someone to talk to.

“I won’t stay long in Mondstadt, anyway,” Lumine laughs, laced with melancholia. “Whatever your secret is, I’ll bring it with me.”

Kaeya’s chest tightens, constricts. “How fun would I be without my mysteries?” he hums and she scoffs.

“Well, either way,” she says, shrugging while she goes to her feet, “I’m here to listen.”

He knows, he knows, that’s why it’s proving difficult to keep all his bottled thoughts neatly safeguarded. Everything is easier around her, as though he can just be honest and loose-lipped, and bare, and Kaeya despises it.

He despises how vulnerable he feels, how vulnerable she makes him feel.

Each passing day only serves to coddle that parasite of an idea, the frail, tempting whisper at the shell of his ear, gnawing at him endlessly. The words coagulate in his throat, begging to be spoken and put to death all at once, barred only by gritted teeth and sheer willpower.

Lumine never quite pries him, not when he excuses himself of her company through the blatant lie of working through his commissions; nor when he hides at the corner of the bar when they celebrate her victorious homecoming; nor when his nightly patrols loop him back to her in some cyclical torment.

She gives him his space, lets him breathe. Kaeya isn’t sure if he enjoys the consideration, the lack of judgement, the misplaced respect.

A clean-cut, clinical distance maintained. Lumine never quite meets him again, and he never bothers. It’s easier, it’s easier, he tells himself, chanting it through like a broken record.

It’s easier, Kaeya convinces, even when he finds her perplexed at her usual spot at Good Hunter, bathed in the scarlet red of a sunset.

“My,” he greets, pulling up the chair reserved for him, “I don’t think I’ve seen you quite so bothered, Traveller.”

Lumine’s eyes never quite meets his, even when she’s turned her body to his direction. A chill creeps up the length of his spine.

“I’m leaving for Liyue,” she says under her breath, so quiet it’s near indistinguishable from the wind. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” is all Kaeya manages to muster. She doesn’t speak after that. He doesn’t either, all the sentences tangled and fumbling on his tongue, and It’s easier this way, he reminds himself still, even when she’s long receded into Mondstadt’s crowd.

There’s a ringing in his ears, a loud, obnoxious pounding against his skull.

Lumine’s leaving.

The creature in his chest twists, writhing as he inhales deeply, like it is wounded and angry. Isn’t this what I wanted?

Iron fills his mouth as his teeth bite into the inside of his cheek. He’s never once looked at her, not in the longest time, and before he knows it, Kaeya’s letting his feet lead him to the home she’s staying in, blood cold and hands trembling.

The last time Kaeya’s ever held a person so warm dear to him, he burned to ashes.

Something old and ancient stirs, an acquaintance he thought bygone. Wrapping around his shoulders like a winter veil, it hovers, large and engulfing.

What has trust given you? Trauma sneers. Kaeya swallows. Rain and ichor, and festering wounds. Scorched skin black to its bone, pain still as new and fresh as spring. All that hate and fear, and loneliness.

His hand rests quietly on the door, shaking softly.

Intimately, anxiety slithers around his neck, a spurned lover begging for a second chance. His back is soaked in the frozen thunderstorm, the terrorised flesh on his arm throbbing painfully, this memoir he’s carried with him since eighteen.

I should leave. I should go. There isn’t much point in this.

Flashes of white dancing at the peripheral of his eye, embers sparking like coals. Kaeya balls his hand into a fist, breaths shallow and ragged, the smell of carbonised ozone filling the air.

This was a terri-

“Kaeya.”

His demons fall quiet.

Her fingers are warm around his wrist, comfortingly so, a hearth on a winter’s eve, and Kaeya’s heart steadies. Everything does.

I’m scared, he realises when he keeps his gaze to the ground, when he struggles to look back at her, when he’s being honest to himself past all those pretences, a lost child navigating uncharted wasteland.

I’m scared, he realises, of learning how to trust. It feels like centuries since he has. What has trust given you? Rain and ichor, and festering wounds.

Her grip on his wrist tightens.

A home. A friend. A brother. Tiny, stumbling memories that fill with laughter.

Kaeya swallows and turns around, and this time, he meets the gold of her eyes. In the dying light of day, she seems to glow brighter still, undying and unyielding.

They say if you stare too long at the sun, you’ll go blind. As long as it’s her, he can learn to live with that, to have faith in her promises and follow her lead.

“Are you alright?” Lumine questions, and he’s touched by the worry in her voice. Kaeya allows himself to smile, just barely, and nods.

“I’m here for that offer,” he says. There’s an unusual tremor in his words, a nervousness that he’s not quite felt in ages, and ages past. She blinks, once, twice, and Kaeya wonders if he’s misread.

Maybe-

Lumine laughs, then, like chimes in the wind, and Kaeya can’t help but chuckle along. With practiced ease, she slips her hand around his, linking their fingers together.

Kaeya lets her.

“Make yourself at home,” she guides him through the door and into her space effortlessly, seamlessly. Within the four walls she calls hers, in the incandescent ardour of her presence, he feels safe. Safe and heard, and at peace.

It isn’t likely that Kaeya will tell her everything he’s been shouldering within the day, nor the coming week, or month, or possibly a year, but he knows he eventually will. If it’s her, he wants to, and when she offers him a gentle sunburst smile, he’s certain of it.

For the first time since eighteen, Kaeya offers his heart, bare and beating, and him.

#genshin impact #kaelumi #kaeya #lumine #genshin fanfic #munewrites #f: genshin #ch: kaeya #ch: lumine #otp: your absence is loneliness #an: i acc cannot process words rn because kaelumi is just #an: mY HEART #an: THEIR DYNAMIC #an: I AM DYING ON THIS HILL

37 notes · View notes

fanmoose12 · 4 years ago

Text

at the coastline of memories

For the longest time, Hange had been lost.

(or a fic about amnesiac!hange, based on that one ask i’ve received ages ago)

Hange wakes up, and the world is still dark. She blindly reaches to the bedside table, lights up the gas lamp on, grabs her glasses and puts them on. The world comes into focus and Hange glances at the opposite wall, checking the time.

4:32

She curls her lips in a slight smile. She woke up just in time.

She swings her legs of the bed and yawns, stretching her limbs. She gets up and heads to the kitchen, putting a kettle on a stove and firing it up.

While the kettle heats up, she moves to the bathroom, grabbing a soothing balm on her way.

Once there, Hange takes off her glasses and starts applying the balm, carefully smearing it all over her face.

The burns don't hurt anymore, at least not as much as they did in the beginning. Hange learned how to live with it just as she learned how to live with not knowing how she had received these burns or how she got there - to the middle of nowhere, on a coastline next to a ruined structure that she could only guess was once a port.

Finished with her face, Hange moves to her hands, applying the balm to the inside of her fingers and the backside of her palm. The balm cools her still tender wounds and Hange softly signs, relishing in the pleasant feeling.

The whistle of a kettle shakes her up and Hange whirls around, hurrying to turn it off. She gives another look at the clock, worrying her lip between teeth as she sees that it's past quarter to five. It's only the beginning of spring and the sun doesn't raise up that early at this time of year, but Hange feels a pressing need to hurry. She can't be late, not today, not after she spent weeks, chasing the mysterious man.

The man that had been visiting Hange's cabin for as long as she was living there. He brings her food, medicine, clothes and other supplies. Sometimes he even goes as far as to bring her little gifts - books, flowers and sweets.

He never shows his face, though. He never approaches Hange, never talks with her. Whenever she attempts to catch him, he disappears without a trace. She has only ever seen him from far, in the rare moments when she was lucky enough to catch him leaving her cabin. Frustratingly so, he does his best to remain hidden.

Hange doesn't understand it. The man - for whatever reason - obviously cares about her. Then why is he so dead set on staying away? Why doesn't he let her express her gratitude at least?

She thinks every night about it. She curses her mind for forgetting.

Her previous life exists only in the flashes of sound and images. They're bright, loud, blurry and swift. Hange can't make sense of them no matter how hard she tries. It frustrates her to no end, makes her want to tear out what little hair is left out on her scalp, but nothing comes back to her.

She's sure that the man is important, she's almost sure that he was a part of her old life. What reason does he have to help her now after all?

But the man doesn't want to see her, and Hange needs to see him, so she resorts to different methods. He won't be running away from her anymore, she is going to make sure of that.

With that in mind, Hange pours hot water in two cups, adding tea leaves to it. She throws some sugar in her cup, but hesitates to do the same with the cup she's preparing for that man. She doesn't know why, but it feels wrong.

Your sugary shit destroys the true essence of tea, she suddenly remembers. For the life of her, she can't recall who has said that to her. Or when. Or why.

Deciding to tackle this issue some other time, Hange goes back into the room, wraps a blanket around her shoulders and then takes the cups with steaming tea.

Pushing the front door open with her leg, she comes out on a porch and breathes in deeply, savoring the fresh, crisp air. She puts the cups down on a small table and settles down in a rocking chair, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. Hange shivers slightly, the morning chill freezing her fingers and toes.

She hides them inside the warm cocoon of a thick fabric and turns her eyes to the horizon. The stars slowly disappear, showing a narrow strip of golden light. It paints the sea below it in a gentle purple color.

A smile pulls on her lips as she continues to watch the sunrise. Hange sits back in a chair, rocking slightly. She glances to one side, then to another. Confirming that the coast is clear, she allows herself to close her eyes for just a second.

Just a second, and the world around her is dark again.

***

Hange groans, shielding her eyes from a light shining right at her. She looks up and nearly jumps. The sun is high in the sky. She was going to rest just for a bit. For how long that bit had lasted?

She swirls her head from side to side. The coastline is clear. Already clear. There is no one there, and she is alone.

She looks down then and sees a small package by the door. She glances at the table with teacups on it. One of them is empty.

Despite her failed attempt at catching the mysterious and annoying, but extremely nice man, Hange smiles.

"Have you enjoyed the tea at least?" she asks, hoping that he listens.

***

Hange spends the next couple of mornings, watching the sunset and anxiously waiting for the man to show up. She slaps her face and pinches the skin of her arm, stopping herself from falling asleep. It bears no result, however, because the man doesn't show up.

It is only when Hange finally gives up, returning inside her cabin that the man returns. She disappears for just a moment, going inside to make another cup of tea. When she comes back, a package with fresh fish, a journal and a few quills is already awaiting her. Hange sighs, annoyed at the man, despite his gifts. She needs another plan, it seems.

***

She has more than enough time to think about it. Hange’s life is dull and uneventful to a point of making her feel weird. She doesn’t know what life she led before she was found on the coastline near the port, with severe burns and wounds and before she stumbled into abandoned, old cabin, but this— this peace and quiet that defies her every living moment now, it’s— it’s not unwelcome. But it seems wrong. There is a need, a desperation set deep in her bones. It torments her at night, nudging her to do something, anything. It always keeps her on edge, pushing her in the unfamiliar direction.

That direction feels a dead-end.

***

Not every part of her life is lost. There are some memories that persistently linger in the depth of her mind. She still remembers her childhood - the bright, sunny days, filled with carelessness and wonder. The way wind blew through her hair, the way sunlight danced on her skin and kissed her cheeks, these memories don’t fade. On the contrary, there is more life in them than in Hange herself.

She knows the gentle touch of her mother and remembers the strict face of her father. She can close her eyes and see her puppy, running towards her every time she came home from the never-ending adventures, greeting her with loud, happy barking and wiggling tail.

Her school, a grand beautiful building with big windows and polished floors, still lives in her memory. And the image of the school’s library – the favorite place in the whole world for little Hange, where she spent countless afternoons – fills her with happiness and content even after all these years. She remembers the displeasure and annoyance she felt in the moments when she couldn’t reach the higher shelves. She jumped and stretched out her hand and balanced on the balls of her feet, huffed and scoffed, but nothing ever worked out, until she let go of her pride and went to fetch a chair. She still recalls the wonder and excitement every book evoked inside her. Her fingertips, although scarred and burned, didn’t forget the feeling of yellowed pages. The voice of her teacher, scolding her for reading without proper lighting, still echoes in her ears.

However, everything after that, past the playgrounds and school yards, is nothing more than a blur.

She remembers the cold, dark nights, spent by a fire, surrounded by merry laughter. She remembers the feeling of adrenaline, of excitement and agitation, yet can’t recall what exactly had caused these emotions. She remembers the parchment and a quill, remembers that she used to write, write, write. Not a single written word comes back to her, though. She remembers a bright, imposing figure right ahead, a reassuring, calming presence just behind her shoulder, and someone standing right next to her, their hands almost touching.

These people were important, Hange knows that. She wants to remember them so desperately.

But no matter how much she tries— she can’t.

***

Whatever life she used to have, it most certainly couldn’t have been easy. It was not a life of leisure and prosperity, because her body, despite its weak and injured state, still isn’t used to lazing around.

The spring only just began, and the earth is too cold yet for gardening. As long as the cool weather holds, Hange has nothing to occupy herself with. There are no seeds to plant, no weeds to pull out, no crops to look after. She has all the time in the world.

She can sleep as much as she wants, yet every morning she wakes up at the very break of dawn. Still exhausted and weary, she forces herself to sleep for a little bit more, but she can’t.

So she walks out on a porch, a cup of tea in her hands, and watches the sun slowly rise up over the sea. The sight is mesmerizing, Hange watches it every morning and yet she’s not bored of it in the slightest. She feels like she will never get bored of it, she drinks it more eagerly than the hot tea.

Watching the world growing from black to light, cold blue, before settling into palette of bright yellow, orange and pink never fails in making Hange sigh in wonder. The crush of waves across the shore, the sun beams illuminating the dark green water, the white foam swirling around evoke a warm, tender feeling inside her. It’s a confusing bundle of excitement, pride and happiness.

It makes her think – maybe, it was all worth it.

It makes her think – maybe, we can finally be free.

*** There is nothing much for her to do, so Hange concentrates on getting her memories back. It’s not an easy task, and it proves to be even harder, when Hange comes to conclusion that she has but a single clue, nothing more than a thin, uneven string that connects her past and present life.

That man.

So she thinks long and hard about her next course of action, writes one plan after another in her recently received journal. The process is oddly familiar, it brings her a sort of nostalgia, although Hange doesn't know the source of it. Still, it's comforting and she spends long mornings, days and nights, sitting at her porch under the light of sun, gas lamp and stars, thinking how to get closer to that kind, but irritatingly distant man.

In the end, she can't come up with a decent enough plan, and so Hange resorts to leaving a note to him. She wants to show her gratitude, and if she can't do it face-to-face, if he wishes to continue hiding from her, then so be it, she'll play by his rules.

It frustrates her, she can't deny it, but she needs to do something, and it’s the very least she can do after all the kindness this man has bestowed upon her.

***

The next time, when a package is delivered to her doorstep, it contains fresh apples and seeds. With a smile on her face, Hange brings it all inside and sets out to work.

She washes her hands, puts the apples on the counter and fires up the oven. Next she takes a bag of flour and pours it into a bowl. She adds water and sugar and mixes it all up. She opens the oven, places the bottom crust and spills the contents of the bowl there. Then Hange moves to the basket, delivered by a man. She grabs a few apples, washes them thoroughly and starts cutting them.

It takes her a while to finish, and so Hange starts humming under her breath, losing herself in the routine of gripping one side of apple with the fingers of her left hand and then slicing it with a knife she's holding in her right one.

The quick chop-chop-chop sets a tune to the melody she's humming and Hange smiles, enjoying the mundenity of it all.

At least, nothing will explode this time...

The thought is so bizarre, it appears completely out of blue. Hange freezes for a second, ruining the rhythm of her work. She looks up to the celling and repeats that thought, muttering it under her breath.

Explosion, explosion...

What could it possibly mean? Why does it fill her with anxiety? And what is that another feeling? Fear?

Tree branch hits the window in that exact moment, and Hange jumps. The sudden sound rings unusually loud in the silence of her little cabin.

It sounds almost like a gunshot.

This thought leaves Hange feeling even more shaken that she was before.

She exhales nervously, gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles go white. She feels dizzy out of sudden. Like there isn't enough air in the room.

Like she's swimming underwater and struggling to take a breath.

Why does that feeling seem familiar?

Hange shakes her head, wipes her forehead with the backside of her palm, hoping that it would help get rid of those ridiculous thoughts.

"I should spend more time outside," she mumbles, her voice still trembling. With unsteady hands she returns to the apples.

She quickly finishes chopping them and then puts it all in the oven.

Now all she has is to wait, and so Hange heads into the bedroom to get a paper and quill from there. After all, the pie is worth nothing, if she doesn’t write a note.

***

When the pie is ready, Hange puts it on the best plate she possesses. She covers it with the only napkin she has and then she takes it outside, setting it on a table at the porch. She brews a cup of tea and puts it next to the plate. Then she lays down a note.

Since you don't let me thank you any other way, it reads. Hange hopes it won’t go unanswered.

***

Next morning she wakes up and immediately dashes out of the house, stopping only to put her glasses on and get her warm robe. She forgets about her morning balm applying ritual, too excited to see the results of her little experiment.

Just as she hoped, the pie and tea are gone. Her note is gone too and another one lies instead.

Grinning from ear to ear, Hange eagerly snatches it in her arms, grips it tightly with her fingers and squints slightly, quickly reading it.

Work on your cooking skills, four-eyes. The pie was awful. Try adding less sugar next time. I think just a piece of this shitty pie could give someone cavities. Tea was good, though.

Hange rereads the note a few times, struggling to understand. She can't quite decide if she should be angry or amused. She settles on a mix of something in between.

Her experiment produced an unexpected results, it seems. It helped her realize that her assumption about that man was a bit wrong. He's kind, yes. Caring too. But he's not nice. Quite the contrary. He's a little piece of shit, Hange decides with a gleeful smile.

How curious, she thinks and lets out a happy snicker.

***

Hange's shirt rips at the seams a few days later. It's not her only shirt - the mysterious man has made sure of that - but it's her favorite one. So Hange searches the house, turning it upside down to find a needle and a thread.

Her hands tremble as she tries to fit the thread into the needle and Hange curses, as she misses the small aperture once again. She pushes the glasses up on her forehead and squints, struggling to get the thread inside.

After a few failed attempts and more than a few colorful words, Hange succeeds. She celebrates it with a wide grin and grabs the shirt, starting to stitch the torn parts together.

The stitch is even and neat, Hange wonders if she has been taught that. As far as she remembers, her mother tried numerous times to teach her how to do embroidery, but little Hange always refused, running away and hiding in the library. Evidently, she changed a lot since then.

I managed to stitch his face just as perfectly.

Hange blinks as that thought appears. She closes her eyes and instead of a shirt, she sees a bloody mess of ripped skin, muscles and tendons.

She blinks again and that vision is gone. Hange closes her eyes, tries to recreate the image, but she's drawing a blank this time. She is greeted with nothing but darkness.

She growls in frustration and throws the goddamn shirt away.

She was so close to remembering something, to getting back a part of her life. But, as before, it had ended in a failure.

The feeling is strangely familiar to her.

***

She spends the next week, writing little notes to the man. Sometimes he answers, granting her with more of his crude and sarcastic comments. Other times, when she attempts to ask a personal question, when she begs him to tell her his name or when she laments about wanting to get to know him, the messages go unanswered and her note stays exactly where she laid it, fluttering in the wind.

The frustration gets to her after a while and Hange starts to feel bored. The routine is pressing onto her and so she packs what little provision she has, grabs one of her warmer sweaters, puts on a patch to hide her missing eye and decides to go exploring.

There is a town near enough that it takes only a couple of hours to get there. Hange visited it once, before the winter came and the snow made the trip impossible. The town isn’t big – truthfully, it’s hard to even call it a town – the place stands in ruins with only a few houses rebuild and ready to let people in.

Now, as Hange enters the town after three long months, she sees that it’s changed. Not much, but enough to attract attention, enough to make Hange marvel at the additional buildings and appreciate the hard labor done by the townspeople.

She walks through the town slowly, gawking at everything and everyone. Despite the chilly weather, the people are working hard, rebuilding what was once lost.

When she came to this town for the first time, she asked about the cause of this ruin, thinking that it could be linked to her own wounds, and, consequently, to her old life.

The answers she received, though, didn’t satisfy her. The tales of giant people, destroying everything in their path sounded familiar, almost similar to the stories her mother used to tell her. It reminded her of the tales about titans Hange read in the school’s library. She was scared of them back then, and at the same time excited too. She always wanted to see one up close, and so she felt something close to regret when the townspeople informed her that there are no titans anymore.

“Those island devils got rid of them, thank gods,” one woman said to Hange back then. “Everyone now calls them heroes, but do you wish to know what I think? We should have destroyed them all along with their damned island.”

Hateful words left a bile taste in Hange’s mouth. They made her angry for a reason she couldn’t even understand. She left quickly after, her mind even a bigger mess than usual.

Now, as she strolls through the narrow streets, Hange thinks back to that conversation. Is it true that those islanders are to blame? Could it be that they’re the reason for the burns on her body? For the memories she lost? Maybe, Hange should hate them too?

It’s easy to hate someone when you don’t know them, she remembers words from one of her teachers at school. Hange finds it hard to agree with that statement. She thinks the contrary is true – it’s impossible and irrational to hate someone, when you don’t even know them.

She banishes these thoughts as she turns a corner and sees a man struggling to carry a large wooden pole. Hange isn’t that strong herself, the wounds taking its toll on her, but she rushes over to him, ready to help. She grips the pole with her hands and lifts it up, putting it on her shoulder to support it.

The man slightly turns his head, probably with intent of thanking her. Their eyes meet and he drops the pole almost instantly.

“You!” he gasps, his eyes wide. “It’s you!”

Hange puts the pole down and frowns. She wants to ask the man so many questions. What does he mean? Does he know her? Did they meet before? When? Who is he? Who is she?

Before she can at least open her mouth, the man grips her shoulders and stares at her face, his eyes running up and down frantically, as a wide smile pulls on his lips.

“It really is you,” he concludes happily. “Captain— he was right! He didn’t imagine it all, oh god, it’s a miracle!”

“I’m sorry,” Hange says slowly. “But who are you?”

“Oh.” The man lets her go immediately. He takes a step back and fixes his shirt. His eyes fill with sadness.

“So he was right about this as well,” he whispers more to himself than to Hange. “Forgive me, please,” he adds, and he does look apologetic, but Hange suspects it’s for entirely different reason. “I mistook you for a good friend.”

“Onyankopon!” someone calls from inside the house. “What’s taking you so long?”

“Sorry,” he repeats, flashing her a painfully forced smile. “I need to go.”

He leaves before Hange can reply and ask him to stay and explain.

“Onyankopon.” Hange mutters, pronouncing each syllable.

The name doesn’t seem familiar. But it spreads a wave of warmth through her chest.

***

She keeps muttering that name under her breath on her way home. It results in absolutely nothing, but Hange is nothing if not persistent. When she comes back home, she finds a few hyacinths planted in a pot that stands at the table at her porch.

Hange’s heart swells at the sight of it. The flowers are purple, and it’s her favorite color. She wonders if the man knows that little bit of trivia about her and if the choice of color was purposeful. She writes a quick note, asking him exactly that.

At the bottom of a page, she asks if the man knows a guy, named Onyankopon.

As always happens with that kind of questions, she doesn’t receive an answer.

***

Too soon, life returns to the world. The trees become greener, the sun shines brighter, and the water in the ocean gets warm enough for Hange to dip her toes in it.

The birds return back to the coastline too, the seagulls filling Hange’s quiet life with cheerful squeaking. When she isn't busy with crops and flowers in her little garden, Hange walks out on a beach and spends her days, watching the little things fly around. The sight is strangely calming, soothing her weary soul.

It’s during one of those perfect, peaceful days that it happens. There is not a cloud in the sky and a soft breeze moves through the air, entangling in her hair and moving through a thin cotton shirt she’s wearing. She curls her lips in a smile, squinting against the bright sun.

In that moment, Hange feels blissfully content.

It happens faster that she can react. She looks up, shifting her eyes from the sea to the flock of seagulls, flying high enough that Hange needs to raise her head.

There are eight of them – two bigger ones are on the front, leading the others, while the rest is flying behind, keeping close to each other.

Hange’s smile widens at the sight of the small family.

And it slips from her face, as she sees that one of birds, the one of two at the front, starts falling. Hange watches it as though in slow motion, staring at the sudden descent with wide shocked eyes.

The seagull’s body hits the ground with a soft sound that isn’t loud enough to be heard over the ocean’s hissing or the beating of Hange’s heart.

The other birds halt their movement but don’t dive in the sand. They hover above the body on the ground, silently mourning one of their kind, before continuing their flight.

Looking at it hurts.

Hange stares at it for another long moment, and then scrambles onto her feet, gathering the little bird into her trembling hands. She can feel the faint heartbeat beneath her fingers and Hange rushes back to her cabin, desperate to help the injured creature.

***

She spends the whole day, nursing little one back to health. After all of her efforts, it lives and breathes, but it’s too weak to fly or even move yet. Hange prepares a makeshift nest for a bird and leaves it there, watching closely.

She falls asleep right at the table, where she left the seagull, using her own elbow as a pillow.

It’s there, where, later that night, Hange has a nightmare.

She had dreams before, always blurry, filled with silhouettes and shadows, always disappearing from her mind with first rays of sunshine.

This one is different. This one is terrifying as it is vivid. It still isn't concrete enough, but it evokes something inside her— something that hurts.

The dream – it was full of desperation. It was full of confusing feelings, of ‘there is no one, but me, who can do this’ and ‘I don’t want to go, not right now, not from him’. The thing that feels the most real, the thing that makes her heart ache is a feeling of a hand on her chest. It’s warm, so warm that it burns. It gets through a few layers of clothing, marking her skin, before finally reaching her heart.

And before she can enjoy it, before she can savor this sweet torture, the hand is gone. The hand is gone, and she’s still burning, but this— this fire that spreads through her veins is different. It kisses her skin, but not gently, not like a lover. It kisses her with dispassionate hatred, with apathy that is set to destroy her. It kisses her, sucking all the air out of her lungs.

And then— then Hange is falling.

***

She wakes up before her body hits the ground. A loud, annoying noise stirs her sleep. She lifts her head and the sound doesn’t stop.

Hange groggily looks around, confused and disoriented. It takes her another few seconds to locate the source of the commotion.

It’s the window at the far side of her cabin. Someone is knocking on it. A sound between a gasp and laughter bubbles out of Hange’s throat as she takes a good look at the intruder.

It’s a seagull.

She slowly rises to her feet and approaches the window, opening it. The bird instantly flies inside, and Hange isn’t at all surprised to see that it stops in front of the nest she made for her winged patient.

From across the room, Hange watches the birds interact. The newly arrived seagull approaches its friend cautiously, slowly. When it reaches to wounded seagull, it opens his beak and puts a small fish down, so the other bird could reach it.

Hange almost coos at the sight.

The caring seagull doesn’t stay for long. It waits until the wounded one finishes the fish, and then it flies away, leaving Hange’s cabin through the still opened window.

“I’ll call you Sawney,” she whispers, as the bird flies past her. “And you will be Bean,” she grins, approaching the wounded bird.

As she checks the state of the bird, the strange dream continues to linger at the back of Hange’s mind.

Is that what had happened to her? Did she almost burn alive? Whose hand was on her chest? Who was the person she didn’t want to leave? Where are they now?

Why just thinking about it hurts so much?

She’s desperate to get her answers, and she knows a person, who most certainly has them.

In a last, almost definitely futile attempt to find the truth, Hange sits down and writes a letter. She writes about her dream, about lost memories and torn connections. She writes, asking, begging the man to let her know who she was. Who she is.

The next day, she receives her answer. It’s a disappointingly short one.

Forgive me. It’s better this way.

***

After that, Hange tries to forget about her forgotten life. She lost her memories. She’s still alive and able to make new ones.

The life goes on, and so does Hange.

The summer rolls around and suddenly she's constantly busy, tending to her crops and garden.

She continues to look after the injured Bean. The progress is slow, but Hange's patient. The bird's family is patient too, and they frequently fly inside Hange's cabin to bring more food or simply to visit. Suddenly, it’s not just Sawney and Bean. It’s a whole flock of seagulls.

When the mess inside gets too much even for Hange, she moves the nest outside and the rest of the flock starts living there, caring about the injured bird in little ways they can.

The birds can be loud, but Hange doesn't mind. They provide a company in her quiet life, they help keeping the loneliness at bay.

Birdwatching becomes one of her favorite past times. There is a certain appeal in studying the winged creatures. Hange notes different kinds of movements and habits each bird exhibits. She watches them hunt and eat, watches them interact with each other. Sometimes she even brings out a journal, cataloging everything she finds peculiar about her small test subjects.

It’s comforting in some way. It almost fills the void inside her chest.

***

One day, she receives a bag of sweets. On top of it lays a note that says:

Are your hobbies so boring that watching the birds is somehow fun for you?

Hange giggles, as she reads it, and quickly writes a reply.

It's much more fun than you think!

***

Something changes after that small exchange.

The man starts leaving her messages more frequently, and Hange, now that she let go of her attempts to get her memories back, answers each and one of them.

Her mysterious friend is actually funny, Hange realizes after his secrecy stops annoying her. He’s sarcastic and crude, and has quite a foul mouth.

Hange enjoys that aspect of him more that she probably should.

She enjoys their little conversation too, even though they’re not particularly lengthy. The man doesn’t visit her every day, but when he does, he always leaves a small note, asking how is she doing and what does she need him to bring. Hange answers him with more varied questions. She asks about his favorite color, his favorite season and if he sleeps on his back or on his side. She etches every answer into her mind, collecting bits of trivia about him like it’s the most valuable treasure.

Despite never seeing his face, Hange likes him. A lot.

His notes always bring a smile to her lips. Hange starts to miss him when he doesn’t show up for a few days. And after a while she realizes – she starts caring about this man. Not as an acquaintance from her past life, not as a means to get her memories back. He becomes something more to her.

He becomes a friend.

***

It all happens in almost unbelievably mundane way.

A vicious storm catches Hange unaware. The weather was sunny and warm one moment, and in the next – the wind picks up, throwing sand in her eyes. The rain starts a mere seconds after, drenching her clothes in a record time. The seagulls she was watching don’t waste a single moment and soar into the air, hurriedly leaving to seek a shelter.

Hange needs to find a hiding place too. She gets to her feet and starts walking. Her steps aren't swift or hasty, she slowly strolls back to the cabin. Despite the harsh rain and wet clothes, she doesn’t shiver.

The rain turns into a downpour, but Hange enjoys it nevertheless. The droplets that persistently hit her face feel warm. They soothe the burns that still ache. They elevate the pain that hides deep in her bones.

The lightning strikes, the sudden booming sound ringing over the empty beach. It startles Hange, but she doesn’t cry out – she laughs, louder than rain and thunder. She spins around, yelling in pure joy.

In that moment, Hange is happy. In that moment, she is free.

It’s with laughter still bubbling out of her throat that she sees him. His hand shielding his head from a downpour, he descends from the porch. His eyes are cast down, watching his step.

Hange freezes in her spot, watching him.

He lifts his face, their eyes meet, and— and everything makes sense now. Everything comes back, the memories return as though she never lost them.

“Levi,” the name stumbles from her lips unprompted, unplanned. “Levi.” She repeats it again, because she likes the sound of it. Without realizing it, she missed saying his name, she missed him. So she calls his name again. And again.

Levi watches her, clenching and unclenching his fist. He takes a deep breath, shakes his head and then asks. “So your memories returned?”

“They did,” Hange nods.

“When?”

She shrugs. “Just now.”

“And you…” he clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to another. His eyes don’t leave her face. “You aren’t freaked out by this?”

She shrugs again. “I guess I’m still processing. Would you like to… help me with it?”

And before he can answer, Hange adds. “I know I’ve talked about living in the forest but… will the coastline be good enough for you?”

“You’re more than enough,” he says and takes a step closer. Hange takes a step too.

They meet in the middle.

#is this thing too weird? probably!#levihan #levihan fanfiction

167 notes · View notes

jujutsubabe · 4 years ago

Text

Similar Undertones

Itadori x reader

Word count: 3.2k

Song recommendation: Take me where your heart is-Q

Synopsis: Itadori and you go on your first car date together and he is freaking out.

Megumi and Nobara were going to absolutely lose it within the next three seconds. There was nothing new being talked about as Itadori repeated the same question in ten different ways.

“If this is our first car ride together do we hold hands while I drive? Or Is that too forward?”

“Wait, do you think it’s sexist if I want to drive? I kinda don’t want her to drive, it’s pretty late... wait— not saying she can’t do it! Women are strong! It’s just— is it rude to drive her?”

“Should I make a playlist of her favorite songs...? I’ve been saving them.”

Nobara and Megumi stared at the dork sitting in front of them. His questions didn’t have any more depth than this, you had a chaotic effect on this guy. The boy who never thinks before acting, is actually thinking. All it took was a quick “I’m hungry, can we go to McDonald’s?” from you to put him into absolute shock.

It should have been a casual answer, like “yeah I’ll get you now.” But no, the poor boy only officially asked you out a week ago after months and months of crushing on you. So he needed a full hour to mentally prepare himself enough to not ruin this moment with you.

“Itadori you’re giving me chills.” Nobara rubbed her arms. “Why can’t you two be normal?”

“Don’t put me in the same category as him.” Megumi rubbed his face. “Itadori why can’t you ask her what she wants?”

Itadori sunk into his bed, throwing his arms around wildly. “Are you kidding? If I asked her all that she would think I’m crazy.”

“She doesn’t know that already?” Megumi asked and Nobara cackled beside him.

Itadori whined into his pillow kicking his legs. “I don’t wanna mess this up, this is my first real girlfriend and if we broke up...”

If you looked at him with disgust before making up some random excuse to leave? If you started avoiding him in the city as he passed you by? if you went on with your lives not knowing each other anymore and then years later going to your wedding as a guest? Somehow getting the task of being a godfather and babysitting your kids for the rest of his life? Then becoming a school janitor and accidentally drowning in one of the toilets?

He could imagine it all now, you standing at his casket, sighing, “If only he let me drive instead...”

He screamed into the pillow. He couldn’t stop the inflow of the thoughts, each scenario more stressful than the last. He hated how much he worried over such trivial things.

Nobara pat his back, “Okay, yeah we get it. Calm down.”

The two looked between each other and their friend. It was difficult dealing with him in this state, they had to be extra careful with what they said. He usually comforted them, but when the roles were reversed it caught them a little bit off guard.

Megumi sighed, “I don’t think she would care about those things. She seems like a good person.”

Itadori only grunted.

“Seriously though. You two have known each other forever.” Nobara poked his sides. “At this point, anything you did now couldn’t make her run away.”

He thought about it. You did stay through a lot, you stayed during that whole finger swallowing incident. And that time he died for a little bit. Also the time he laughed so hard milk came out of his nose. (He found that one to be the most traumatizing.)

If you can stay with someone through all of that, then maybe, possibly, you wouldn’t mind staying if he was a little nervous on your ride together. If his hands were a little more sweaty than usual maybe you would giggle a bit and hold them anyways.

Maybe, there was nothing to worry about, and in the end the both of you would have a fun time. He thought too much of what would happen, he needed to relax.

With a long inhale, he rose from the pillow. Nobara clapped as he got up, “There we go, you’ve got it Itadori.”

“This will be a good date.” He reassured himself.

“It will be! That’s the spirit.” Nobara said.

“We’re going to hold hands and I’m not going to mess this up!” He stood from his bed. “I’ll make sure she’s comfortable and goes home telling her friends what a good boyfriend I am.”

“Fushiguro play the motivation playlist! We need to get him an outfit.” Nobara threw her phone to him as she headed to Itadori’s closet.

Megumi sighed, he really hoped this date went well enough for him to never ask for help again because...

He watched Nobara throw shirts to one side while Itadori rummaged through his half empty sock drawer asking Megumi if he had matching socks he could borrow instead.

...He genuinely couldn’t go through this again.

Itadori popped in his fifth stick of mint gum as he checked his reflection. He looked out the window every few seconds before fixing up his appearance. As he looked at himself, he realized maybe he did too much...

He remembered Nobara pulling out a full suit, “This will be good. Girls love it when a guy dresses up.”

“That looks like too much. We’re getting fast food.”

She shook her head, pushing him into the closet, “Trust me, she will be so disappointed if you dress up casual.”

“I’ve never heard of that! Never! Megumi this is ridiculous isn’t it?”

Little did they know, Megumi left as soon as they turned their backs, right now he was back in his dorm reading a nice book under his comfortable covers. There was no way the two could bring him back into the room now. While he was going through his nightly routine, these two were preparing for war.

“Just try it on, if it’s bad you can change...” Nobara checked the time, “Hey what time are you supposed to get her?”

“Uh,” he squirmed into his pants, “like eight.”

“Huh... Like thirty minutes ago eight?”

The closet door snapped open as he stumbled out, “What? Where’s my phone?”

He groaned when Nobara shrugged, he looked through the large heap of clothes on the floor, then opened all the dresser’s drawers before grabbing it from the sock one.

It was already half past eight like she said, he scrolled through a few missed calls from you and frowned. He never missed more than one call from you, you probably thought he was dead (again) at this point.

He would definitely be losing points for that. He would be lucky if you didn’t text your friends about what a horrible date he was being. First he was late and then he showed up in a suit? He would never live that down.

He did a quick little debate as he stared at himself in the mirror, he was way too dressed up for this little encounter. He had no time to change though, so instead of comfy shorts, he accepted his fate to be the awkward guy who dresses up way too much for something that’s supposed to be way more casual.

It’s like those kids who dress in suits at public schools, it’s out of place and everyone scratches their head wondering if they went to the wrong event.

He shook his head, with no more time to dwell on it, he grabbed his keys. Before he left though he pointed a finger through the door, “Later, we will argue about this later.”

Nobara laughed as he hurried out the door. “Tell me how it goes after!”

Itadori shook his head, still not really over the past events. Fixing his cuff he glanced out the window once more before catching sight of you. He took a deep breath before getting out his car.

“Hey!” He waved out to you as you squinted from your door. The closer you got the more confused you looked.

“Shoot, we’re we going somewhere fancy?” You looked over your oversized shirt and sweat pants. “I thought we were getting fast food.”

He was jealous of your comfort wear. Any other day he would be jumping in joy over how cute you looked in house clothes, but right now he craved some of his own.

Itadori thought about those moments in typical romance movies where the girl steals the guy’s sleepwear. The guy gets all flustered because she’s wearing his clothes and looks so comfortable, the girl is happy because she gets out of her uncomfortable dress clothes and finally gets to relax. It’s a bonding moment between the two.

He wished he could be the girl in that situation right now.

He scratched his neck. “No, we are. My friend just bullied me into wearing a suit...”

You laughed, “Really? Was that why you ran late?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he winced, “I lost track of time. I really was going to wear something normal.”

Your eyes darted over him before you pursed your lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit before.” You picked at dust on his shoulder, “It’s a little out of place but it’s cute.”

He hung his mouth as if you kicked the breath out of him. You said that with so much ease, you two have known each other for so long but he’s never seen you be this much of a flirt. He felt like a firefly was lighting him up from inside out, blinking on and off as he stared at you unable to move.

We’re these the benefits of being in a relationship? Random touches and compliments that could make any worrying heart swoon instead? It was his first time dating his crush so every little thing you said or did made him bounce off the walls.

He wanted to cherish the moment with you touching his shoulder and calling him cute for a moment longer. You somehow made him forget every single worry that welled up in his chest.

He wondered if he made you feel this way as well.

Itadori is a cute driver. The two of you keep a good conversation, but when he makes a turn he goes quiet. He also goes quiet when someone crosses the street, sometimes he talks to the drivers in front of him even though they can’t hear him.

Little sayings like, “You can go.” “You don’t have to run across, I can wait.”

He fumbles with the radio station until you wave his hand off and change it yourself. You can tell it takes a weight off his shoulders, he looks content whenever you switch it.

He drives with both hands too. At every stop light he taps his fingers on the wheel, glancing at yours every once in a while. You never know what to do, debating on whether or not he's trying to hold your hand. You didn’t want to come off as being too forward by grabbing his hand, but also didn’t want him to initiate everything for your little date.

You hadn’t been in a car alone with him before, you didn’t know the rules about romance in the car. If you made a wrong move you two would have to sit in silence until he dropped you off, or worse until he kicked you out the car.

You could imagine it all now, you go to grab his hand and he pulls it away. “Isn’t that a little too early? I don’t think we’re that close yet...” and then he turns up the music to ignore the tension.

Then you pass each other in the streets, then he dates someone completely different and you see them together all the time, then you become a realtor sell a house to him and his new wife, constantly wishing you could have been the one moving in with him, then you are living in his basement without his knowledge, eating sardines before dying under his house.

Itadori would shake his head at your funeral, “If only she never held my hand...”

You internally screamed. You couldn’t mess this up. He was so different from any other person you’ve met, you didn’t want to be too fast with this. You liked him since the first day you met, it would pain you to see all those months of friendship and growth go down the drain by being a tad too forward.

You couldn’t bear going back to the friend stage again, though fun at that period of time, you were in too deep to go back. The idea alone gave you chills, that would mean no more cute little touches or flirty gestures, just awkward waves when you passed by.

You fiddled with your fingers, glancing at his. The thought alone gave you butterflies, the two of you holding hands in a car at night screamed aesthetic Pinterest board. Your hand craved to feel whatever those Internet couples felt.

Your chest tightened a bit when the drive thru came into view and he asked for your order. It was like a reality check, the little drive filled with mindless chatter and laughs would be ending soon, with neither of you making a move.

You bit your cheek as he pulled up to the cashier window, time started to dwindle. You wondered why he couldn’t make a move first. His chances of rejection were in the negatives.

If he held his hand out you would hold it, you didn’t care if any of the employees witnessed such a display of PDA. You didn’t care where he held it, you didn’t care if it suddenly turned green… well you would be concerned about that… but there is nothing more romantic than holding hands in the middle of the night with someone you are infatuated with.

...In the McDonald’s drive thru.

He pulled to the next window and talked about something for a while before he interrupted your racing mind, “You okay?”

You popped out of your thoughts, about to pull an excuse from the top of your head but when you turned to him you didn’t expect to see his hand. Your eyes went wide as you saw his palm open and his expression soft and heartfelt.

It was like a small explosion of color went off in your brain. Like confetti rained in your mind and every single wish you’ve ever had suddenly became true in this very instant.

Itadori is actually offering his hand to you. Maybe you were imagining this and he wasn’t real, but even if he wasn’t, why not take the hand of this apparition?

So with the widest smile and biggest set of heart eyes, you fit your hand into his like a slot piece. His hands were warm like food out the oven, or fresh laundry, or a ray of sun washing over you. They were a little sweaty, but it was cute, everything about this moment was exactly how you dreamed about it. You could feel your heart settle itself down.

Until, Itadori cleared his throat, “I was asking if you could hand me the money from there...” he pointed to the glove compartment.

Your face dropped when you saw the cashier standing at the window scratching his head and Itadori still pointing at that cursed glove compartment. This was something right out of a horrible coming of age movie, you couldn’t believe this was real.

“Oh!” You slipped your hand out, snatching whatever amount from the compartment box and handing it to him. “I’m so sorry, that’s so embarrassing.”

No, no embarrassing was an understatement. You more so felt like a ball got kicked in your face on live television. You didn’t know if you could ever recover from this, you wondered if you should change your name and move across the country now or later.

While you were deciding on a new name, you were thrown off, when he cocked his head instead of agreeing, “Why? I was going to hold it anyway.”

Oh.

Oh?

Oh!?

“You were?”

He nodded, “I was nervous I might freak you out but—“

“I felt the same way!” You interjected, “I thought I would make you uncomfortable.”

You didn’t expect him to be as nervous as you were, the both of you seemed to get onto a mutual plane of understanding. You both said what the other person thought, peeling off that initial layer of worry like an orange.

To think someone as confident ltadori would be nervous. You were used to him doing things without thinking and going in with full confidence this threw you off guard. You were seeing a different side of him you weren’t used to.

“Don’t worry, you can’t make it uncomfortable. I'm fine with whatever!”

“Me too, if you want to hold hands we can.” You bit down on your cheek, a loud buzzing coursing through your arms.

Itadori grinned back at you so hard, the both of you in this little bubble. Maybe this night wouldn’t be as bad as you imagined. You might be able to keep this date in your mental memory, looking back at it whenever you wanted to smile.

The cashier cleared his throat, still standing there, the both of you jumped before looking, “You’re holding up the line.” He pointed to the money in Itadori’s hand.

“Right sorry!”

You laughed as he scrambled with the money. The both of you turning to each other and giggling when he finally left the drive thru. You sorted through the food while he found a place to park. (to which you mentally squealed, you two could now spend a little more time together)

Your conversation now had an interesting topic as you both discussed how nervous you were beforehand, then talked about the pace you wanted the relationship to go in, then your days, then the weather, and then it went quiet.

You were cleaning up, wiping away the salt from your fingers and crumpling up trash. Doing minor things like adjusting the air and checking your face for crumbs in the mirror.

Maybe he shouldn’t be looking at you with so much intensity, but he couldn’t help it. His glances were quick and out of the corner of his eye at first, but after some time he completely forgot to keep the looking secret and started staring at you.

You weren’t even noticing. You were in your own little world, thinking about a catchy little tune you heard over the radio while you cleaned your nails.

It was all so simple, but he couldn’t help his eyes from noticing every little thing you did. He didn’t understand why his heart thrummed so fast when you pursed your lips or drummed your fingers onto your lap. Tiny itty bitty things he didn’t pay attention to earlier were so eye catching for some reason.

You had such a content look on your face, it physically pained him. He could feel the weight of his heart, the buzz in his fingers, he wanted to know if you felt the same. If you felt there was no one else who could fill up this place in your chest. Like no matter where you were, each moment was perfect as long as this feeling stayed.

He couldn’t help but intertwine your hand with his. You smiled up at him and he wondered if he was allowed to have this. Your hand or this moment, he didn’t know if he deserved it, yet he couldn’t help but take it. It would be wrong not to.

He squeezed your palm to his, maybe you could see the sparks behind his eyes as he did so. He hoped if he looked close enough, you would share the same sparks behind your eyes as well.

#Itadori x reader #jjkmag #Itadori yuuji x reader #yuuji x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #fluff #itadori/reader #we love nervous Itadori #first date jitters #he’s such a dork in this okay #I’m nervous I haven’t posted in so long #I hope u like!#kisses #💓💓🎉🎉🎉

117 notes · View notes

midgardianweasley · 4 years ago

Note

hello! welcome to fanfic writing for hp and mcu! I was wondering if I could make a request for Freddie! Maybe something fluffy where he’s becomes familiar with the muggle world bc of work and takes his pureblood gf to London for the first time and just gushes over how cute she is experiencing all the muggle stuff for the first time? Thank you!

hello my lovely! I had so much fun with this request. I hope you like it!<3

Seeing the sights

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: Fred takes a week holiday from work, he’s been doing some travel over the last few months to muggle London and decides to take Y/N, who’s never experienced the muggle world, to see some of the popular sights.

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 1864 words

Message/ask if you want to be on the taglist <33

“Hey sweetheart! I’m home!” Fred announced to the quiet home, hanging up his coat and putting his wand down on the unit beside the front door. He briefly thought that maybe his girlfriend was out somewhere, however, that thought was quickly discarded when he heard footsteps running towards him and before he knew it, a body collided with his chest. After recovering from his stumble from the collision, he looked down to see a mop of Y/H/C hair just below his chin. He went to speak, before hearing a slight mumble.

“Sorry Darling, what was that?” He chuckled, holding her arms as she gently pulled away, looking up at him, she smiles before responding

“I missed you”

“I missed you too sweetheart, but, I come with good news!”

“Ooooh, I like good news! Tell me, tell me, tell me!” She claps her hands, excited for what Fred was about to reveal.

“Georgie and I have closed the shop for the next few days, he and Angelina are gonna be heading off to Scotland on holiday, so, I was thinking that you and I could take a trip to muggle London!” He spoke, excitement in his voice clear as day. He’d been going to muggle London on business with his brother a few times over the last couple of months and he’d seen some places he wanted to share with his girlfriend, a pureblood like himself, as she’s never experienced anything muggle related before that wasn’t taught in a classroom. He wanted to show her firsthand to let her have an insight on some of the things he’d seen.

“The place you’ve been telling me about?”

“Yeah! The place that has the awesome cake I was telling you about!”

“There’s gonna be cake?”

“There will be cake”

And those were the last words spoken before she ran off in a hurry again, reaching the cupboard in the hall of their shared home, to pull a suitcase down and beginning packing. Fred smiled, happy to see that the excitement he was feeling, was mutual.

~Timeskip~

The couple had just arrived and settled themselves into their hotel in the heart of London when Y/N bounced over to the windows in their bedroom and opened the door of their balcony, giving them a full view of the city.

“Wow, it’s beautiful!” Y/N spoke, wrapping her hands around the new pair of arms that had found themselves around her waist. Fred gently kissed below her ear, enjoying the slight breeze outside, glad they had worn their jumpers as it was starting to become fall season.

“So I was thinking” He began, still giving her quick pecks, moving between her neck and her jawline. “We could either chill out for today and see the sights tomorrow, or, we could spend the rest of today out and about and just choose what to do tomorrow depending on how you feel today goes.”

She thought it over for a few minutes, trying to decide whether she wanted to save the tourist stuff for later in the trip or start exploring today, when looking out at the busy city, it was suddenly really obvious what she wanted to do.

“I wanna go and see what that thing is!” She jumped, struggling to contain how eager she was.

“The big circle thing over there?” He spoke, following where she was pointing.

“Yeah!”

“Ahh, that’s called the London Eye” Leading her inside and helping her put her coat back on

“Wait, what? But there’s no eyes? Can that thing see?!” She exclaimed. He laughed before explaining that it wasn’t a literal eye, before leading her out of the door and smiling at how clueless she was, almost forgetting that it was exactly how he and George were when they first visited. Thankfully this time, Fred remembered the key card to their room, learning from an unfortunate mistake he and his twin brother made that resulted in the pair sitting outside in the hall for forty minutes, waiting for someone to let them back in. Y/N watched Fred put the key into their door, confused as to what he was doing as she pulled out her wand. Upon turning and seeing her eyes flutter between her wand and the rectangular thing in his hand, he started to explain again.

“This is a little card we put in this machine attached to the door handle, it locks and opens the door for us whenever we swipe it in this little slot here.” He explains while demonstrating, taking great joy in her face morphing as she tries to understand.

“We can’t just use ‘Alohamora’?”

“No Love, it’s all done the muggle way here, remember?”

Not entirely sure of herself, Y/N puts her wand back into her coat pocket and watches as Fred does the same with the muggle key card.

After a walk in Hyde park and hearing Big Ben ring out, scaring Y/N almost half to death ultimately causing Fred to practically fall over from laughing so much, the pair found themselves in Trafalgar Square, a soon to be favourite of Y/N’s.

“Can you guess why we’re here?”

“Uhm, to look at the fountain?”

“Well, yes, that, but, look up and to your left”

Y/N did as Fred had told her and gasped in excitement, for what felt like the thousandth time, when spotting the big cake logo above the doorway. Putting the pieces together, she knew that this was the place where Fred had kept bringing back Y/F/C from his trips. Fred took his hands from his back, to reveal two boxes of her favourite cake that she had been craving since it was first mentioned. Y/N wasted no time in taking the box from his hand, thanking him and opening it up, not stopping to wonder how the hell he’d managed to go and get it when she could’ve sworn she was with him the whole time. Her attention was brought back to Fred when he held a plastic, wrapped fork in front of her face, saving her from getting any crumbs or icing on her outfit. She took it from his hands gently and the two of them started to eat their cakes, occasionally taking some from the other person with large smiles painted across their face.

~Timeskip~

The sun had almost set now, the city now starting to light up with rows of street lights, headlights from the cars of people returning home from work to their loved ones, further accompanied by the lights from overlooking apartments. Y/N stood in the middle of the streets that had started to calm, but not by much, and spun slowly on the spot, taking in the beauty of the night atmosphere. What she had failed to notice, was that all throughout the day, Fred had been giving her the same look. He was completely in awe of her fascination and how she thought everything was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen. He knew that the muggle world would be a new environment for her, causing him to feel slightly anxious when first raising the idea, but seeing her be so absorbed by everything, made him feel like his heart had grown double the size. Stopping on the spot, Y/N saw her boyfriend look like he was in a trance, making her shy under his gaze when realising he was staring at her.

“You okay Freddie?” She spoke, watching him blink a few times before stepping forward and hugging him, feeling slightly colder now that it was darkening. He noticed her shiver slightly, unwrapping his scarf from his neck and gently wrapping around hers, before holding her face in his hands, a soft smile on their faces.

“Never better, my love.” They pulled away from their hug, taking each other's hand, and walked towards the main event of the day, well, night time now. Waiting in line to hop on the ride, the two of them swung their arms back forth. ‘The eye looks so much bigger from down here’, Y/N thought, craning her neck to look at the top of the wheel, Fred not having to strain too much due to his height, but is still taken aback everytime he sees how tall it is, he chuckles to himself thinking that this must be how Y/N feels when looking up at him, not daring to voice his thought, knowing it would result in a slap to the chest, a light-hearted one, but it was better safe than sorry.

The line moved quickly until it was eventually the couple’s turn to walk into the pod-like thing, managing to have it all to themselves, the line not being as busy as it was during the day. When it started to move again, Y/N stumbled, holding onto Fred as she lost her balance slightly, not prepared for it to move so suddenly, causing the both of them to laugh at her clumsiness. Everytime they feel that they can’t possibly be happier than what they are or smile anymore than what they have, they’re proven wrong.

When they got to the top, an audible gasp fell from Y/N’s lips, if she thought that the views were pretty from the ground, seeing them from the top of this wheel was a whole other level. She walked closer to the glass, looking at all of the lights and tiny figures walking the streets. Sure, she’d gone flying on her Firebolt before and playing quidditch had given her a high view of a crowd before, but when flying, you can never really appreciate the views, especially not if you have a bludger flying towards you, something Fred had always made sure wouldn’t happen, knowing how painful it can be to be hit with one of those things. But with everything so still from where she was, there was no crowd screaming, no breeze whipping her hair in 50 directions, there was just serenity.

“Do you like it?” Fred broke the silence, eyes still focused on the girl beside him, watching her eyes go back and forth. He thought she hadn’t heard him she was so entranced, before she whispered a short “It’s incredible.” Another minute went by until she was pulling her eyes away and meeting with his, having to look up slightly. “I love it Fred. I love it all, today has been absolutely insane. Thank you so much.” She spoke softly, wrapping her arms around his torso and hugging him tight, but careful not to squeeze him. He returned the hug, arms wrapping around her shoulders and chin placed upon her head. A soft “you’re welcome darling” escaping him, careful to not break the peaceful silence they had.

And while Y/N was peacefully looking at the view, still wrapped up in Fred's scarf and his arms, her head felt empty with how peaceful the moment was, Fred felt the same, however, his head didn’t feel empty as he had one thought running through his head.

‘I’m going to marry this girl’

And thankfully, he had the ring in his back pocket ready to act on it.

Taglist: @horrorxweasley @dracofknmalfoy @gaycatlord-stuff

#fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley girlfriend #fred weasley london #fred weasley holiday #fred weasley engagement #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley trip #fred weasley fluff

102 notes · View notes

shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.36 - End

A Chance Meeting

08/08/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 10,158

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, creepy dudes

A/N: The end. 😭 I hope you’ve enjoyed it. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs. REBLOGS are always welcome.

*pictures relay only style of clothing and not physical appearance/race

Silken sheets that are cool to the touch. A roaring fire. The heartbreaking smell of peony blossoms.

A wooden bucket—your wooden bucket—full of ice-cold water.

A chill warmed by a feverish heat wrapped around your back.

All of these thoughts-no. They’re more like memories.

All of them have come to you over the course of a year.

They grow more elusive as they come.

Before you thought you could almost see a garden with an ocean of pink peonies in varying shades of blush to wine.

Now, after months of having these strange visions, they have become condensed into single colors at random. The most frequent is a shade of gold. A circle of blue.

You think these memories might be important but you cannot grasp onto them long enough to make any sense of them.

There’s also the fact that you know they cannot possibly be memories.

You have never seen a garden of peonies.

You’ve had plenty of chill in your life but a warmth like the one you’d recalled at the beginning of the year when the winter cold had been at its worst is as unfamiliar to you as the looming manor on the hill above the village.

With a small groan, you stop and set the bucket down. Your arms are strong enough to carry it but after so harsh a winter, you’d be a fool not to take care.

You’d only just managed to make it out alive after devoting so much time to your little one.

You suppose the golden hue you keep remembering is similar to your baby’s hair. Just a shade or two off. Just as beautiful.

The estate sits looming at the peak of a hill that sits almost a mile away from the village.

The manor itself, you can see, has been expanded. It has the appearance of a small castle now with towers and battlements. The parapet walls that now surround the structure offer crenels to whatever guard the now small castle may need.

It had sat there abandoned for so long, the lord once given task to watch over it and Bright Rise as well as several other small villages in this part of the kingdom having left.t

With the primary building made of wood, the added masonry has really given the old place new life.

What magnificent furnishings must it have? Gilded and ornate probably. Chairs worth more than everything you own.

What type of person has taken residence there? Is it someone you’d know?

Someone beautiful probably. A handsome lord and his gorgeous lady. Both of them probably members of his Majesty King Anthony’s court.

Do they have children? A young little lord or lady running around causing mischief.

You find yourself smiling, made happy by the image you paint in your head.

It makes you only a little sad that you picture yourself there. Your baby in your arms. Your husband…

My husband?

Silly…You don’t have a husband.

But you yearn for something you very nearly miss. Something you know you should have. Something…precious.

“Hello there, little mouse.”

You gasp, startled out of your daydreams and turn on your heel in search of the horrible voice.

With a stuttering heart you spot Phin, standing with his grimy hands in his tattered pockets.

“What do you want?” You ask him, voice cold but wavering as you grow wary.

Already you’re searching with a quick glance for the nearest route of escape.

You hunch over, grabbing your bucket and attempt and fail to stifle your groan of effort.

Phin lunges forward, his hand thrown out towards you. It makes you flinch. You keep your eyes shut as you wait for the blow.

It never comes.

Slowly you peek, searching for Phin's extended hand and find it wrapped around the rope handle of your bucket.

“What are you doing?” You ask, confused and fearful. “Let go.”

“I can treat you right, little mouse. I can give you proper protection. I’ll even pretend that bastard brat of yours is mine.

“I’ve been patient. I may not be able to wait much longer.” His voice is like sludge, creeping down your spine raising chills of terror as it goes.

You yank on the handle, urging him to release it. You meet his gaze, matching his threat with your own angry stubbornness.

You will not give in to him. Not now. Not ever. Even with your little one…you can’t.

He keeps holding it, refusing to let go until you feel like you’d rather drop the water and come back for more later.

He drops the rope and you stumble back a step, not having realized how much you were actually pulling on the bucket.

Some water spills but you’re just thankful to be free of Phin and you rush away to be even further. A glance back when you’re close to your small home shows you Phin still standing where you left him.

He’s watching you.

You hate him.

Getting inside, you shut the rickety door tight, resting your forehead against the splintered wood as you wait for your heart to stop pounding.

From behind you a sudden “goo" chases the tension and fear from your body. Your shoulders relax.

With a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you turn in search of the cooing source.

Nestled into a bed of hay, covered with a thick blanket of navy fabric, is your little one.

A hair of golden hair and eyes as blue as the deepest ocean have enraptured you. Stolen your heart and changed your world.

“Are you finally awake?” You gush, moving to place your bucket by the crumbling and unlit fireplace before you make your way to him.

His chubby little legs kick away his tunic. A plain brown piece of linen you’d stitched together to keep him clothed.

At six months, he’s nearly outgrown it.

When you offer your arms, he throws his weight to his left until he can roll onto his stomach and then reaches for pivots towards you.

Sliding your hands underneath his arms, he grabs you and you lift him up then place several kisses to his chubby baby cheeks.

He's gorgeous, your baby boy. His smile is sun bright and the gleam in his eyes is sharp and observant.

The expressions he wears on his little face are familiar. They pull and tug at something too but you can’t focus on it long enough to care.

Your boy is your world and that’s all you need to know.

“Is my sweet boy hungry?” You wonder while moving for the bucket of water you’d lugged into the hut.

You dip your hand in and for a moment relish in the feel of the water on your hand. A sudden desire to be submerged in steaming hot water that smells like a spring garden overcomes you, but it’s gone by the time you gently swipe across your little one's face.

He protests you cleaning his face. Whining a little and twisting in your arms until you’re done and wait with both arms supporting him for his sputtering to stop.

He looks at you and after taking another moment to overcome his displeasure, he smiles again.

You chuckle and move to grab the swaddling blanket you’ve set aside for his use alone and sit with it in your lap as you lean back a little to expose your breast to feed him.

A song you feel you almost dreamt slips from your lips in a soothing hum. With your eyes shut you can almost see a beautiful gown sweep around your feet.

Strong arms hold you close as they lead you around a crowded room.

The image is like a dream too, part of the song you’re humming. You’ve never been in so vast a hall, tables laden with food and the satin gown you wear is softer than any rag you’ve ever worn.

No. You’ve never been bathed in such luxury.

This hovel is your home with its mostly dirt floor, loose cobblestones shoved around in spots you’d set aside to keep dry.

No windows. A door that hangs off its hinges. A straw bed. A patched roof.

As your son feeds and you allow your mind to put away the dream of nice things, you assess the hut you’ve made your home.

You’re almost certain that you’d had it in better condition before. The door had hung straight, the rickety fireplace had been sturdy and homely.

The floor had been more even. Your straw bed had been less lumpy.

You’d had another small shelf with your plates and cups. Your sewing kit safely stored in the cupboard below.

Your home had not been grand but it had been comfortable. It had been yours and you’d cared for it delicately and made it a sanctuary.

When had it changed so much?

As you attempt to remember when this place fell apart your mind is forced to confront several other unanswered questions that you seem to think on often but always forget.

It’s almost as if the thoughts are pushed from your mind until they are brought to the surface once more.

The one question that started it all…the one that had made you pause. You still remember the miller’s wife, staring at you at the small grocer's shop while you waited to pay for your bushel of potatoes.

“Oi, orphan. How much longer ‘til you have the babe?” She'd asked, her eyes narrowed as she considered your swollen belly.

You'd stroked it, smiling fondly at the little life growing within you.

“A fortnight.” You’d answered, happy and content despite your poor living.

“Ah, and who's the father?” She'd asked, then waited as your smile slowly fell.

You’d stood there for a few minutes, waiting your turn but lost in thought at the question that had never once occurred to you in the seven months since your belly began to grow.

“I…I don’t know.” You’d admitted to her and her eyes filled with a solemn worry.

“Looks like they finally cornered you. Didn’t get a look at ‘is face?” She'd wondered and it was then that you realized what she thought.

Your precious baby, your little growing bean, was the product of one of the village men forcing himself on you.

But it wasn’t true!

As you sit with your son in your arms, rocking him back and forth as he eats, you know without a doubt in your mind that your son was made with love.

You can feel it within your very soul. There was passion and love and devotion in his making.

A golden aura, warm and encompassing that gave you your own little ray of sunshine. But even though you know this you cannot see his father.

There is no father. Only your Joseph.

He stirs in your arms. You find him smiling, finished with his meal. And just like that, your thoughts are lost to his special allure.

“All done?” You ask him and he yawns.

You begin to wrap him up in the blanket you’d made for him and bring a basket from the corner of your hut.

It’s a decent size with straps sewn into the wicker so that you may put it on your back.

You place it before you, balanced between your legs and gently lay Joseph within. You make certain he's wrapped up tight and kiss his cheek before you fit a domed lid on top.

The lid covers his head and keeps him safe from the summer heat.

“We'll check the traps and then come right back.” You promise him and lift the basket onto your shoulders, listening as he coos long baby words that say nothing.

It’s like he’s talking to you, the quiver of his voice moving up and down with inflection as if he knows what he’s doing.

He takes a breath and then starts again, “Oooh-awhhhh-wahhhhhh-ooooohhhhhhh…”

You can’t help but smile, your skin greeted by scorching sun as you start your trek into the trees behind your home.

“Let's check the traps by the pond first, then we'll check the bog by the road.” Joseph coos along with you.

~~~~~~~~~~

The view is spectacular.

It’s downright scenic from up here so high on the hill. Even if the beautiful valley is slightly tarnished by the village below.

It’s part of the reason he decided to keep the purchase.

Several months ago, Steve had found the deed to the manor on Sunbright Hill.

He'd sat for nearly an hour while he'd considered the paperwork, trying to remember why he’d made the purchase of such a dilapidated plot.

The lord that had once resided here had apparently vacated when he'd married a lady of considerable wealth but she preferred the Capital city to Bright Rise below so, they’d left and never come back.

Slowly the manor began to rot and the village, without its caretaker, had also fallen into poverty and corruption.

The farms were all but dead. Only two were still in use and had the season failed once in the past few years, the village would have surely fallen.

“Steve?” Bucky sighs, moving into the renovated den.

Steve stands by the large arched windows behind his massive oak desk.

The chair is angled towards the glass, distracted as he's been lately, he can’t seem to get any work done.

“Steve?” Bucky says louder.

Steve blinks, pulled from his brooding to notice his friend. He turns and waits, saying nothing.

“She's here.” Bucky smiles.

Steve’s heart gives an eager stutter as his own bearded face breaks into a wide smile.

“Where?” He asks, moving towards his oldest friend.

“She’s with Nat in the dining room. She was hungry.”

Steve is already out the door, stomping with wide steps down the hallway, then another and another, down a staircase then to the east side of the manor towards the dining room.

It’s a long room, a table long enough to sit at least forty people takes up most of the center space.

Each wall has been adorned with tapestries and paintings, an iron chandelier with sixty candles hangs at the center of the room, currently unlit.

Instead, windows on both sides of the room sit open, a cool breeze blowing in to cool the manor from the summer heat.

As Steve thrusts the doors open, he spots a grouping of his closest friends. Sam, Wanda, Pietro, Peter who is actually squatting beside the chair they are all surrounding, and Natasha in the one beside it.

In the chair is a cherub. An angel. A literal princess dressed in pale pink. Her golden hair, a shade darker than Steve’s is pinned back on one side with clasp of small and ornate white peony blossoms.

“Maggie!” Steve calls, the honey in his deep voice soft and flowing as his heart swells in his chest.

The toddler turns her head, searching aimlessly as his voice echoes around the room. Her right hand full of jelly and toast as she’d sat munching, she now opens and holds her fingers wide as she isn’t coordinated enough to recognize when the food has fallen from her tiny grasp.

Everyone is watching her, despite the presence of their King and Steve cannot blame them. Her eyes find him and she releases a high squeal of excitement before she turns in her seat to take hold of the arm.

“Wait, Maggie, your hands are a mess.” Nat says, her voice full of amusement.

But little Maggie has no patience for cleanliness with her papa so close.

“Papa!” She screams, turning to look at him as she stands on the chair.

Her lips wrap around the name with a slur, her talking improving but still just beginning.

Nat continues to wipe her hands as Steve laughs and moves for her, arms extended.

Maggie bounces on her feet excitedly. Her pink dress swishing with every move.

As he reaches her, she allows herself to fall into his arms and he catches her, spinning her once as he presses a long kiss to her cheek.

Maggie laughs, her hands wrapped around Steve’s head so tightly that Steve wonders if her strength is increasing or it’s just his imagination.

“She has been asking about you all week.” Nat says, rising and then turning to Bucky as he approaches her to give her a kiss.

“We'll give you some space.” Wanda offers then moves around the chair towards the exit.

Steve stops his turning to watch her go, Pietro following.

“Will you be going back to Broklin?” He wonders, wondering if the twins only came to escort Maggie.

“No. We'll visit with Tony.” Pietro nods, then both of them stop at the door and bow before heading off at what must be Pietro’s run.

“How was the journey?” Steve worries, turning his eyes on Nat.

“It was fine. She was a little fussy last night but as soon as I explained that we were coming to see her papa, she converted her energy to enthusiastic impatience.” Nat chuckles. “She really has been asking for you. ‘Papa where?’, ‘Where Papa?’, ‘Papa, Papa, Papa…’. It’s almost as if it’s the only word she knows.”

“She’s never been away from him for so long.” Bucky observes, both he and Nat watching as Maggie places her little hands on Steve’s cheeks, her fingers exploring the edges of his beard while Steve admires her little face.

“I’m sorry, my treasure. I just wanted to make sure the manor would be ready when you arrived.” He tells her.

She seems to understand as she tilts her head to one side and throws her hand up, bent at the elbow as she babbles a string of words only she understands.

“Do you forgive me?” Steve begs.

Maggie giggles sleepily then leans forward to lay her head on his shoulder.

Steve strokes her tiny back, caressing her hair a bit as her eyes begin to close.

“How long will you stay, Nat?” Steve asks, his voice dropping a bit in volume to respect his sleeping toddler.

“Long enough for you and Sam to go and come back. Bucky and Peter will help me with Maggie.” She nods, looking for her faithful friend and Knight.

She spots him in another seat, head in hand, elbow on the table as he dozes lightly.

“He's been doting on her.” Nat explains. “Too much, perhaps?”

Sam huffs a laugh as he crosses his arms across his hard chest, tugging on the crimson tunic he’d quickly dressed himself in this morning.

“He’ll be angry we went to visit Morgana without him.” Sam observes and Steve can’t find it in him to deny it.

The romance that had bloomed between them had seemed to come out of nowhere for him.

In the back of his mind when he’s been laying in bed with Maggie beside him, he can almost remember a conversation about their eventual marriage. When he brought it up to Nat—he was fairly certain the topic had been discussed with a woman—she admitted to the thought never even crossing her mind.

She’d praised the match and teased Peter afterwards, but it has left Steve with another unanswered question.

So many…so many strings that he’s tried to pull on only to find the way blocked.

Maggie coos in his arm, another bout of baby babble in her sleep that pulls him from his pondering.

“We’ll head out in a few hours.” He tells Sam who straightens up and nods. “I would like to go now, but I want to spend a bit of time with Maggie before I leave her again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours with Maggie turned into thirty minutes.

The longer Steve sat with her in his arms, the more eager he was for her to wake.

He’s missed her but knows that she’s tired so in an effort to get the visit over with and return to his smiling princess, he tucks her into her crib in his bedroom then hands her care over to Nat who sits by the window while Bucky sees them out.

“How long will you be, your Majesty?” Bucky wonders, keeping pace with Steve’s quick and long stride.

“Not long. I’ve only to invite him to the ball in two weeks and we’ll return. I’m certain we’ll be back before dinner.” Steve assures him. “I hear you and Natasha are considering adopting a child?”

Bucky smiles. “There is another option, one that Natasha is most eager to try but I think I’ve convinced her to reconsider.”

Steve regards his friend skeptically.

“Truly, I think I have. She met with a witch a few weeks ago and apparently there is a way for Natasha to regain her ability to have a child.” Bucky explains, his expression a little darker.

Steve’s confusion is evident in the narrow of his brow. Despite his curiosity, he keeps his eyes fixed ahead as they move along the south hall to the stables.

The fall of their shoes echoes along the empty corridor, still only half decorated as it was only finished a few days ago. Steve can still smell the fresh clay between the stones underneath their feet.

He’ll have carpets put in to quell the sound.

“Isn’t that what you both want?” He wonders.

Bucky shakes his head. “I want her to be happy. She thinks I want a child of my own. Naturally my own. But I don’t care if the child is mine by blood. I just want to love her.”

“Magic like that of which she speaks comes with a hefty price.”

“That’s why I refuse to accept it.” Bucky sighs, the worries of his world evident on his shoulders.

“The price is too high?” Steve wonders, finally looking to his friend.

“We would be granted the ability to have our own child, but the mother would have to relinquish years of her own life. Five is what the witch told her. So, if it were Nat’s fate to die at the age of sixty, five years would be taken from that and she would die that much sooner.” Bucky laments, shaking his head in denial. “I cannot condone it.”

Steve sees his friend thinking things through, biting his lip as he wonders if he should speak what has consumed his mind aloud.

He gives in, “I know that it’s her choice. If she should want to do it, I only have some say in it. If having a child truly born of us both is what would make her happy then I would have no choice but to comply, but I would rather adopt a child who we will both love as our own anyway and have my wife for five years longer.”

Steve’s heart gives a painful ache.

Something in Bucky’s words makes him sad and breaks his heart.

My wife…Steve repeats in his head, the memory of feeling proud at that very thought overtaking his senses.

“Is it Margaret again?” Bucky wonders, stopping as they reach the end of the hall. “You’ve got that look on your face again.”

Steve reaches up to stroke the spot on his chest where he can feel his heart beating. Every thump it gives sends more agony into the pit of his stomach making his head hurt.

Is it Margaret? Steve doesn’t think so.

The first time someone had asked him if it was Margaret he was mourning he admitted it was because it was easier than to tell his friends that no, it wasn’t his dead wife he was thinking of. In fact, he wasn’t sure who it was he was thinking of.

He shuts his eyes now, overcome with the sweet scent of oils. Lilac and juniper. Peonies. Fields of them. A garden full, just like back home.

A smile flitters past his sense. The image nearly chokes him. A laugh. A pout. A tear stained face made blurry as he can’t recall its beauty.

Maggie in womanly arms, pressed gently to her breast.

These elusive images that skim his mind are not Margaret. Everyone seems to ignore that Maggie is too young to be Margaret’s or perhaps they simply don’t care?

It’s almost a silent agreement that Maggie’s mother is not Margaret but who exactly she is, no one cares. No one will think on the possibility long enough for it to matter.

Even Steve loses focus after a few second of torment.

Even now, as his heart breaks painfully, Bucky puts his hand on his shoulder and gives him a shake.

Just like that, the images that pained him only moments ago are gone.

Steve smiles, breathing in deep before exhaling in a huff.

“I’ll be quick. I want to be back before it’s too dark.” With a nod from Bucky, Steve hastens his way into the stable.

Sam already has his horse saddled and waiting.

He hops on, adjusting his posture as he takes the reigns then turns to give Bucky one final wave.

“Keep my daughter happy until I return.” He orders.

Bucky waves them off and watches until they clear the large gate.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your hands are shaking with rage. Yet another night with nothing caught.

All of your snares are in fact, broken. A deliberate cut made to the wire you’d spent so much money on.

You think you know exactly who it was that came out to ruin your work. There’s only one person who would benefit from sabotaging your efforts to feed yourself and your boy.

The image of Phin standing across the field from your home, staring at you is burned into your mind.

If it weren’t for Joseph, you would happily starve before you accept Phin’s hand in marriage.

As it is, it isn’t only you. In order to feed your son, you must eat. With no one coming to you for mending—which you are also sure is thanks to Phin’s interference as it has only been happening the past few weeks—you have no money to buy anything. No grain. No bread. No meat.

If you do not eat, your son will starve.

You clutch the broken snare in your hand, squeezing so tight you can feel the wire dig into the palms of your hand.

Were they not so rough, you may have cut yourself.

You take a quick peek at the basket carefully nestled between the rough trunk of tree and large berry bush. Your little one still dozing peacefully and safely covered by the basket’s lid.

While he sleeps, you know you must be quick with the snares by the bog. It isn’t too far so you decide to let him sleep in the shade and make your way through the trees to the road’s edge.

It’s a very short walk. Should he cry you’ll hear him perfectly and be able to run back to him in less than ten seconds.

The sun beats down on the road here and the bog is nearly dried over from the heat of the summer sun.

Normally the mud within is a thick sticky paste that one can easily be caked in. You even remember fetching a purse for the old woman who used to care for you when you were little.

As you stop by its edge, you wonder where the old woman has gone. You attempt to recall the last time you’d seen her but the last memory you have is fetching her purse from the mud pit.

Forcing her from your mind, you look to the two snares you’d set up between two trees and right at the edge of the bog.

The one at the edge has also been cut. You kick it angrily before you move to the other and find that it has also been tampered with.

“Fuck!” You mutter, hating Phin with every fiber of your being.

You try to picture him beside you, laying claim over you as his wife. You think on the life you will live, trapped in your home, and expected to fulfill his every whim, wish, and desire. He will rule you with a heavy hand, command you to obey, and take what he wants from you with violence if need be.

Terror roots you to that spot between the trees, hunched over as your hands shake with anger at the lack of options for you and Joseph.

There is the other choice, the one you’ve refused to make because where might you go? Here in Bright Rise you at least have a roof over your head.

Soon fall will come, then winter after that. If you choose to leave, you might be condemning yourself and your son to a death by freeze and you can’t do that. You can’t make such a reckless choice with him so little still.

You gather as much of the wire as you can, carefully wrapping it around an empty spool you’d kept just in case, hoping to keep your anger from shifting into sorrow.

As you work, you can hear the sound of hooves behind you. Two horses at most. Perhaps three? The sound of shifting gravel too close.

There’s the clearing of a throat before a steady voice speaks. “Excuse me, might I trouble you, miss for some directions? My guard and I seem to have become lost in these backroads by the village.”

You sigh, still consumed with rage with Phin, but rise and turn to face the man who addresses you.

He’s godly, this man with golden hair and a beard to match. His eyes are piercing. Storm blue as they stare you down and you fidget with the spool in your hand as your heart does a sudden and unexpected dip into your belly where it explodes into a flurry of butterflies.

Voice choked in your throat, you look away from the beautiful man and tried to clear your head.

“His Majesty, King Steven has asked you a question, miss.” His guard says, shocking your system into an automatic curtsy as you intentionally avoid their gaze now.

“I’m sorry!” You gasp, worried you might have given offense.

“Sam, it’s alright.” King Steven says, his voice soft and coaxing.

You take a quick peek at his guard, another handsome man with deep umber skin and a soft bronze glow. His gaze is a little sterner but kind all the same.

“We did not mean to startle you.” King Steven says, the gentility in his voice luring you into taking another look at him.

When your eyes meet, you find that you can’t look away.

“I-I was checking my traps.” You relay, feeling stupid suddenly for giving him information that he has not asked for.

“I can see that.” King Steven nods, a small smile tugging up half of his full pink lips.

He’s exquisite. His dress is fine, luxurious satin and silk. His tunic is a royal blue, a silver stitching along every seam in what looks to be a small wavy pattern.

It looks familiar and your hand absentmindedly moves with the pattern of the stitch as if it remembers how to make it though you’ve never sewn on anything so fine in your life.

King Steven’s eyes notice the movement and he watches your hand before you remember yourself and speak again.

“Forgive me, your Majesty, you asked me a question.” You gasp, dropping the spool at your feet and moving around the mud pit to stand at the edge of the road, much closer to where he and his guard tarry.

King Steven smiles again, sending your heart into a pitter patter.

“If you head down this road, you will reach a fork with three smaller roads. You’ll want to take the Eastern most road for nearly four miles before you reach a second fork of two roads. Take the left and follow that road and do not stray. You will reach the Capital before noon.” You say, pointing as you give instruction.

As you finish you drop your arm and bring your hand to tug at the worn leather of your belt.

King Steven stares at you, smiling for so long that you look down at your feet and are suddenly aghast by the state of your shoes and skirts.

You’re so dirty that you’re ashamed to be seen by them. With a bite to your lip, you turn and hurry back around the mud pit to pick up your spool.

“Thank you.” King Steve says, his wide shoulders relaxed. “Might I pay you for your assistance? What is the customary amount? Five silver pieces?”

You throw out your hand to stop him, embarrassed to take payment for so small a favor. “No!”

Gasping you watch as the spool flies out of your hand. It hits the front of his horse then topples onto the road where it rolls along further down the rocky path.

King Steven dismounts as you rush forward in chase of the wire.

Both of you reach it at the same time but King Steven is first to bend over and take it.

“Oh, please…” You gasp, worried about the dirt and muck that must be caked on the tool. “You’ll dirty your hands.”

As King Steven stands upright, he dusts it off then offers it to you. “A little dirt never killed anyone.”

Your senses are assaulted by him and for a moment all you can do is stare at his hand as he waits for you to take your wire.

He smells like evergreen woods and oranges. No…limes…You’re not sure! It’s a citrus of some sort and it overwhelms your mind. His voice is deep and smooth. It works its way into your bones and nearly turns them into jelly.

“Will you not take it?” He asks, shaking the spool a little.

You look up to meet his gaze but find that his smile has disappeared. In its place is a look of severe concentration.

Is he angry with you? Have you insulted him by waiting so long to take your property?

The look in his eyes is intense. He looks almost as if he’s trying to recall an elusive memory.

You know the feeling…

Quickly you take the spool, ignoring the moment your hand brushes his. He must notice how rough your hands are. He must mix with ladies whose hands had never once known the strife of physical labor.

“Thank you, your Majesty.” You curtsy quickly, avoiding his gaze and move around him.

A hot, vice-like grip takes hold around your wrist.

You stop, turning to look at his hand then up to meet his gaze.

Gone is the look of confusion, replaced by a furrowed brow and what can only be hopeful searching within his storm blue eyes.

“Steve?” His guard warns, confused by the moment almost as much as you are.

“What are-” You whisper, voice so weak you’re surprised you can manage to speak at all.

You clear your throat and search for the courage to say your piece.

You don’t like this. The way his presence almost consumes you. His touch is burning, and you’re not sure why you feel as if you’ve also been waiting a lifetime for it.

“Unhand me.” You plead, twisting your wrist in his hand but refusing to look away from his slowly shifting expression.

He smiles and your heart stutters, fear of what it might mean making you yank a little harder, but King Steven uses the momentum of your pull to step towards you. He wraps his free arm around your waist, dipping his head down as he presses fevered lips against your own.

You’re frozen in his arms, wide eyes staring at his own now shut. His lips are fierce, his kiss is hard. It hurts a little and it takes you a moment to feel the warmth of their touch.

He drops your wrist and wraps his other arm around you, hand pressed to the back of your head as he tilts his own to one side and coaxes your lips open with a gentle swipe of his tongue.

The taste of him stuns you, your body freezing as your mind is assaulted with images all blurred together into one precious life that you’d most assuredly lost and now found again.

Your eyes grow blurry, tears flooding from the corners as your lips finally respond to Steve’s kiss.

With a gasp you pull away, sobbing once as you gobble up the sight of him.

Steve’s hands caress the sides of your face, stroking your hair and cheeks as he also devours your visage.

“I found you.” He whispers, throat tick with emotion.

You sob once more, arms pulling him towards you as you give in to the shocking relief you feel to be in his arms once more.

Your heart breaks as you clutch him close. Over a year of lost time with not only him but…

“Maggie!” You exclaim, voice barely above a whisper.

“She’s perfect,” Steve assures you, pulling back to meet your gaze once more. “She’s growing bigger every day. She has your sweetness, your love of jams and jellies.”

Steve laughs, so happy that his own tears fall too. “She calls me Papa, and she calls Sam birb.”

You laugh, shaking your head already knowing that Bucky’s to blame for that.

“I don’t think it’s that funny.” Sam suddenly says, pulling both your gazes towards him.

“Sam…” You smile.

“I’ve kept watch over her, just as I promised.” The recognition in his eyes is heavenly.

“How did this happen?” Steve asks, continuing the caress of your cheeks. “How did we lose each other.”

You sigh, licking your lips as you prepare to explain when your heart suddenly drops, and you remember another pair of storm blue waiting in a basket. “Steve…”

Without warning you turn and race into the trees, running as fast as you can to make sure that he wasn’t a dream.

You find the basket where you left it and pull it away from its hiding spot before you remove the lid, happy to find your little boy still fast asleep.

“Y/N!” Steve calls, racing up behind you where he skids to a stop. “What is it, my flower? What’s the matter?”

He sighs heavily when he finds you, moving to place his hands on your shoulders, needing to feel you it seems.

“Don’t run away from me like that…” He pleads, and your heart aches for him but this is much more important.

“Steve,” You begin, and turn to reveal the six-month-old baby in your arms. “You have a son.”

The step back he takes you attribute to shock. The heartbreak and confusion on his face you have only yourself to blame for.

“How-?” He asks, shaking his head as he stares at the tiny prince in your arms.

“Steve…” You begin, suddenly fearful of what he might say when you confess the deal you’d made with grandmother.

“No.” Steve cuts you off, reaching out to trace the shape of your arms through the dingy dress you wear. “Not here. Let’s go home.”

“To Broklin?” You wonder, relieved that he’s eager to resume your lives together.

“No, I-do you remember when I asked you if I should purchase your little hut?” Despite speaking to you, his eyes are still trained on your son.

Slowly, as he speaks, his hand skates across your arms until he can stroke Joseph’s little cheek with one tentative finger.

“Yes.” You frown, disapproving of the purchase as it isn’t your land to begin with.

“Well, when you forbade me from buying it, I bought the manor on the hill instead.” He confesses, finally meeting your gaze.

“Oh.” You’re stunned.

“I thought that it would be nice to have somewhere in Malibia to call our own. Visiting your family is something that I wanted you to feel free to do. I wanted to give you a space you could come to, somewhere near your home.” He explains sweetly sending your heart into a tizzy.

“Steve…” You reach up, pressing your palm to his warm bearded cheek while keeping a firm hold of your little one with the other.

“Come on.” Steve urges you, leaning down quickly to kiss you then pulls away slowly almost as if he doesn’t want to. “Our princess is waiting.”

~~~~~~~~~~

She’s as beautiful as the night you’d held her close, memorizing the little wheeze in her breath as she’d drifted to sleep.

She’s bigger. She’s walking, unsteadily but moving. She’s talking, indeed saying ‘Papa’ but she says other things that you’ve already picked up on.

Her little chubby limbs have stretched a bit and you can’t believe you’ve lost so much time with her.

Tears are still streaming down your cheeks while you sit here, staring at her sleeping face.

Steve’s hands support her little back as he holds her to his chest, his back resting against the ornate wooden headboard of your bed.

“She’ll know you soon enough.” Steve assures you as you nod and quickly wipe the tears from your eyes. “She was so little.”

“I know.” You reach out, caressing her little head before you look down at the even smaller boy between you both. He’s chewing on his fist, little legs up in the air as he quietly plays by himself.

He’s so good at just being alone, you feel terrible about it because you know that it’s your fault. You’ve needed him to be independent as you worked hard to earn money for both of you.

When he meets your eyes, he coos those long wordless streams of vowel. He’s talking to you, probably relishing in the plush mattress all four of you lay on.

“Shh, my sweet boy. Your sister is sleeping.” You stroke his little chest and he takes hold of your hand as he kicks his legs in excitement.

“Y/N…” Steve begins, and you know it’s finally time.

“I’m ready now.” You sniffle, meeting his look of somber confusion. “I’ll tell you what happened.”

It takes you less than five minutes to explain. Grandmother’s vision. Her actions to see it in greater detail. The truth of his imminent death. You tell him that you begged for his life and that night when Grandmother had interrupted your sleep, she’d come to tell you that she’d found a solution.

“She said the magic would ask for payment. Something that only I could give.” You hope that he doesn’t hate you, his expression unreadable as he watches you with his brooding brow all scrunched and focused. “I thought that it would be my ability to see or walk. My hearing perhaps? Or being able to speak…I never thought that it would take you and Maggie from me.

“My life perhaps? But not my memories of you. Not knowing you.” You sigh, waiting for his rage to show.

What you get instead, is a calm conversation and a gentle pout.

“But it wasn’t only your memories. It was everyone’s. The magic wiped your existence as my wife and Queen completely.” He observes.

“Yes.” You agree. “Even the villagers in Bright Rise acted as if I’d never gone anywhere. How can magic be so powerful as to erase me completely from so many minds?”

Steve shakes his head, his hand still absentmindedly stroking Maggie’s back.

“It was such a risk for you to take.” Steve frowns, his gaze piercing, and the guilt you’d felt building since you’d stepped foot in the manor crests. “How could you make such a choice without consulting with me? I’m your husband.”

“I know.” Your lip trembles. “I’m sorry. It all happened so quickly, and I had so little time to consider the consequences of my choice. All I knew was that your future was certain. You would die protecting the world and I could not give you up to it. If I had the power to save you, of course I would use it. So long as I knew that Maggie would have you, I could stand any future I had to live.”

“Even this one? Both of us separated forever?” Steve counters, holding a mirror to the past year of your life.

You shake your head, new tears springing forth as you look down at your boy who has fallen asleep once again.

“I thought I would have to marry Phin.” You admit, voice quiet so as not to disturb your little ones.

“Why?”

“I’m fairly certain he was orchestrating it. No one in the village were taking work from me to mend their clothing and today, you found me checking my snares for small game, but someone has been breaking them. Cutting the wire or simply tearing it down.

“He wanted me to be hungry enough to marry him and the bastard knew that I would do it, for Joseph if not for myself.” Your anger taints your vision red, Phin’s detestable face a memory you wish you could forget.

Mentioning your son brings Steve’s eyes back down to him. He takes one hand and reaches down, placing his finger into Joseph’s tiny open hand. He grasps his papa’s finger, a tiny fist full of surprisingly sturdy strength.

“Now that we’ve remembered, I’m panicked by the idea that you might have found a new Queen in my absence.” You confess, chewing nervously on your lip.

“Bucky and Sam suggested it. They brought Sharon around me often to try and convince to take her on, but something prevented me from doing so.” His words send your heart into your feet, your head is suddenly splitting.

Glad as you are that he doesn’t seem to have found a new wife, the possibility of it make you feel almost sick to your stomach with anxiety.

“I think perhaps I knew in some way, deep down, that I was already married. The very thought of sharing my bed with someone else drove my skin to crawl. I felt guilty, as if I were committing some grave sin.” He admits, unrelenting in his stare.

“I would not have blamed you…” You whisper, almost fearful to speak the words. “…if you had taken a new wife. If you’d had another child with someone else. I would have had no one to blame but myself.”

“No one could ever take your place.” He assures you. “Even though I didn’t remember you, your presence was greatly missed. I may not have known what it was I was yearning for, but I was wishing for you every moment of every day.”

You shut your eyes, allowing the pleasure his words give you to soak deep down into your bones.

Even though he doesn’t ask, you’d also felt the exact same way. Something had always told you that somewhere was a home waiting for you to take your place. Never would you have guessed that it was a castle in the next Kingdom over.

“Were you frightened?” Steve wonders, drawing your gaze once more.

You find him watching Joseph once again, his thumb stroking the little one’s hand.

“Expecting him all on your own?” He clarifies.

“I was afraid of how I’d take care of him.” You smile, reaching to stroke the length of his little nose. “I knew I would be alright birthing him. It was long and taxing. But he was with me so suddenly. It was over before I even knew what was happening. The miller’s wife came to check on me and she helped me for a few days after, but I had no other choice than to push on. I was up and caring for him and myself before the week was out. That’s when my fear came.

“I knew that I had to feed myself in order to keep him fed and healthy and I wasn’t sure exactly how to do it with the village set so resolutely against me. An unwed mother with a bastard child?”

“I’ll have it burned to the ground.” Steve declares suddenly.

You smile wide, your heart melting as you watch the intensity in his gaze as new love blooms for his son.

“I wish you had spoken with me about Agatha’s vision before you made any decisions.” Steve laments, an anger growing in contrast with the new love.

It effectively wipes aware the happiness his love gives you as you regret having kept him in the dark.

“If I’d told you,” You begin, voice breaking and weak as emotion gets the better of you. The sound of it brings his gaze back to you and he seems to soften with it. “You would have kept me from doing what needed to be done. There was no question of saving you, Steve. I had only just found you. Our baby girl only just born. I could not lose you.”

Shutting your eyes, you let your head fall, burying your face into your pillow.

“Imsuhsawree.” You sob, muffled against the fluff of the bed.

The silence feels endless until you’ve just about made up your mind to look at him again when a sudden snort of laughter cuts the tension with ease.

You whip your head to face him, searching for the source of the laugh only to find Steve with his hand over his mouth as his body shakes with silent laughter.

“You’re laughing?” You gasp in disbelief; certain you must be seeing things.

Your husband cannot possibly be amused in this moment while your heart and soul are drowning in guilt and grief.

“I’m sorry.” Steve chortles, a whisper of giggles as he tries his best not to wake Maggie. “Forgive me, I…”

You frown at him, displeased with his humor but he reaches for you with his hand and hooks it behind your head in a soft caress.

“It’s not funny.” You insist.

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “It isn’t. I’m sorry, my flower. I’m just…so happy you’ve returned. I’ve missed you so much.”

And just like that, he’s forgiven.

The four of you lay there in bed for hours. Though your stomach is empty, you refuse to bring your hunger to Steve’s attention. Even though you know very well just how much he will be upset with you for it, you can’t bring yourself to tear your little family apart so very soon.

The sun is only just setting when Joseph decides it’s time to eat. He whimpers, a soft murmuring of whiney breaths until the air takes shape and his cries begin to grow louder.

Beside him Maggie also stirs, staring around with wide eyes as the crying rises in volume and she’s brought out of her blissful slumber.

Steve wakes last, while you are already scooping your little boy into your arms and propping yourself up against the headboard to feed him, he rubs his face and glances at the window.

“It’s already so late.” He realizes, turning back to you and Joseph while Maggie twists her body until she can lay on her stomach and then throw herself back to sit on her bottom.

Her eyes are glued to Joseph as he latches to your breast and begins to suckle. Your breasts are sore, and the pain is worse than you remember it being with Maggie, but you have no time to focus on the pain.

You make sure he can eat easily, watching him for any signs of distress.

“Did you get her a wet nurse?” You wonder, letting your eyes drift to Maggie who still sits watching you feed her brother.

“I did.” Steve nods, lifting the girl back up onto his lap. “She was so little.”

You look away, a quiver in your bottom lip as you try to push past the heartbreak that you hadn’t been there for your daughter like you’d wanted to be. “Yeah.”

Steve is familiar with you enough that he knows you don’t want to dwell on it and changes the topic quickly.

“Shall we have dinner in here? I don’t want to share either of you yet.” He confesses, stroking the back of Maggie’s little head.

“Yes.” You nod, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically at the mention of food because Steve frowns.

“Damn it, Y/N.” He gripes and gently places Maggie back on the bed before he marches towards the doors. “If you were hungry, you should have said something. After your meal, I’ll have Natasha draw you a bath.”

The prospect of a full belly and a luxuriously hot bath which you hadn’t realized you’d grown so fond of is so dreamy that your heart gives a clench and once more you feel so very happy you just might cry again.

~~~~~~~~~~

“How’s your bath, my petal?” Steve checks, moving to the edge of the bed once more as the children sleep on.

After their dinner they’d quickly begun to play. They’d explored each other’s boundaries and Maggie had made Joseph cry only once for a few minutes before they were sharing Maggie’s soft cloth dolls.

They each sleep with one in their hands, huddled close together at the center of the bed.

“Is the water too hot?” Steve pulls over a small yellow footstool, sitting upon the soft cushion.

He doesn’t wait for your answer and dips his left hand into the water, testing the temperature as you lay yourself back against the large copper tub.

“Your hand is going to smell like peonies and rose oils.” You tease him, bringing your hand up above the fragrant water.

You take a peony petal and carefully tuck it behind his ear, gentle drops of water skirting down into his beard as the pink stands in pleasant contrast to the gold of his hair.

Biting your lip, you comb it back, tracing the shape of his jaw with damp fingers.

“Even though I didn’t know you, my heart and soul yearned for you.” You whisper, sliding your hand down to rest upon his shoulders.

“And I you.” He smiles, eyes shut as you lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I wonder,” You begin, pulling back to examine and rememorize every inch of his face. “Now that we are together again, whether this will negate in some way the effect of the spell?”

This thought raises a new worry in you. A fear that by meeting again you have somehow doomed Steve to die.

“Even if it has, I will not part with you again. I won’t die either.” Steve promises, but how can you take him at his word.

Magic is wicked and it will take its price one way or another.

“I have to speak to grandmother.” You counter, your gentle caress of his shoulders turned into a desperate cling.

“She’s gone.” Steve says, sending your heart into a pit within your belly. “No one has seen her since all of this started. However, there is something that I found in my office back home.”

Steve rises, moving towards his cloak left to rest on the back of a chair at the opposite end of the room.

When he returns, he holds in his hand a sealed piece of parchment, folded twice to keep its contents secure. The wax seal is a deep purple, her insignia that of a cat, back arched and head tilted up as if to yowl towards the moon.

You reach for your towel nearby and dry your hands then take the letter as Steve holds it out.

“I’ve been carrying it with me everywhere I go, hoping it would yield some explanation as to why I have been feeling so…empty.” He tells you, picking up his stool and moving to place it a bit more near the head of the tub where you sit. “Scoot forward.”

You do as he asks, staring at the letter and consider what its contents might be.

Steve’s hands disappear beneath the surface of your bathwater and emerge with a small porous sponge. It’s rough at first but with water and under Steve’s heavy hand, it becomes malleable and he begins to stroke your back, cleaning the peasant grime from your body.

“Why haven’t you opened it?” You wonder, turning it over almost expecting it to billow with glittering smoke.

“I attempted to many times. I couldn’t. The seal would not break. See there at the bottom of the fold?” He instructs.

You turn it over to look at the side with the seal and spot the small loopy writing at the bottom. The penmanship is so exquisite, you’re almost certain now that grandmother had indeed once been of noble blood.

For the Queen of Broklin.

“For me?” You gasp.

“I think it will only open for you, petal.” Steve explains as he leans closer to get the tops of your arms and then following the flow of muscle over your shoulders and down along your sides slowly.

Eager now, knowing this letter is meant for you, you tear it open and the seal breaks without fuss.

“Can you read it?” Steve wonders, no note of teasing in his voice.

Like you, he must be wondering whether so long a time away from life at the castle has made you forget everything you’d learned.

“I think so.” And with bated breath, you read, glad that you’d tried so hard to learn and only slightly surprised that you understand every single word she’s written.

If you are reading this note, it means that I was right.

First, believe me when I tell you that every word I spoke of King Rogers’s death was true. There is indeed a threat that would take his life and that of your father’s and King Thor’s as well.

I thought that perhaps King Rogers’s death would be enough to convince you that what we needed to do would be necessary and I am glad to say I was right.

What I did not tell you is that I knew the price to be asked would be the life you’d built within the castle in Broklin. I could not bear to tell you that you’d spent all that time suffering and building a family with him only to have it ripped from you.

Somehow, I don’t think you would have changed your mind even if I had.

After you spoke to me of your connection with the Asgardian king, I was wary of what it might mean for your future as Queen in the kingdom. There was only one chance to break the curse dealt by the spell to save your husband’s life and that was if you and he were always meant to be together.

Soulmates, I believe they call it. Two halves of one whole, set at opposite ends of the world to meet each other in just the right way to create what we know as destiny. In this case, the opposite ends you were placed in were poverty and wealth.

Your husband had every advantage in life while you had none. You were given no loves in life and King Rogers was given one big enough to eclipse the pull you would have for him when and if you met.

At the time, I worried that King Thor might be your true mate. The two of you were so well suited and perhaps I’m right? But if you’re reading this, it means that you and King Rogers found each other once again.

By some miracle, he or you have lifted the curse, and you can once more be together to live your lives and King and Queen of Broklin.

A fate you might not have found had I not thrown my purse into that bog by the road. I hope you appreciate my efforts, girl. I have worked very hard to walk you through this life but must now leave you to shape it on your own.

Don’t worry. I might not be with you every day, but should you need me, I will come. You don’t need to send for me. I’ll know. And rest assured, your husband’s life is safe.

There will always be evil in the world and he will always rise to fight it but be content to know that his life you most certainly have saved. Take care.

-Grandmother

You read the letter at least three times before Steve’s chin finds your shoulder, the scruff of his beard pleasantly rough against your skin.

“What does it say?” He wonders, tilting his head to kiss your neck.

You fold the letter and toss it away so that it won’t get wet, then lean back until you’re relaxed and can turn to look and admire your husband’s storm blue eyes.

“It says that no matter what might come to tear us apart, you will always find me.” You smile, reaching up to scratch underneath his chin.

Steve’s lips curl up on one side, a dashing smirk if you ever saw one.

“Always.”

#king!steve x reader #medieval fantasy au #royal au #arranged marriage au #steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #steve x reader fanfiction #steve rogers x reader fanfiction #king!steve x reader fanfiction #king!steve x you #steve rogers x you #pseudo princess #avengers x reader #pseudo princess pt36 #shreddedparchment

771 notes · View notes

bluesylveon2 · 4 years ago

Text

How to Confess to a Guy

Summary: Levi and Hange have a crush on one another for years. It is now time for someone to step up and confess!

Disclaimer: Attack on Titan is a manga/anime series written by Hajime Isayama and published by Kondasha

A/N: @levihanweek Thank you for hosting the Levihan Eggschange event! I enjoyed participating in it.

To my giftee, I hope you find your gift and enjoy it. I hope the clues I gave you helped as well. Enjoy! :)

Camp Paradis is a 7-week, 400-acre summer camp for teenagers hidden deep in the woods of Washington state. Founded in the 1950s by the Fritz family, it is run by Dot Pixis, a man famous for his many achievements when he was a camper many years ago. It is known for offering a variety of activities for each camper. Some activities included fishing, sailing, swimming, paddle boarding, and more!

The camp had a small lake with 12 cabins surrounding it. Each cabin had three campers and one counselor. Each camp counselor was typically seniors and college students. Additionally, there was an even bigger lake, Lake Maria, where the camp's rival, Camp Marley, resided across. Camp Marley was also 7 weeks but had 500 acres, and it was by Theo Magath.

No two counselors in Camp Paradis are alike. Each counselor is unique. For example, Erwin Smith, the counselor for Ursus cabin, is greatly admired by his campers because of his dedication and leadership quality. He is the counselor who typically leads his cabin to victory every year at the Paradis games that occur at the last week of camp.

On the other hand, Levi Ackerman, the counselor for Vulpes cabin, was known as very strict with his campers. Other campers from other cabins note how it always smells like detergent, and his campers clean the cabin often.

(They are in the woods, for crying out loud! How did he manage to bring all of the cleaning supplies? This remained a mystery to everyone except in the Vulpes cabin.)

Just like any other teenage-related camp, the campers always spread rumors to relieve their boredom. Some of which have not been debunked.

Rumor 1: Bigfoot is hidden somewhere deep in the woods that has yet to be found. There were occasional sightings near the camp in the previous years. Dot Pixis himself almost caught him one day but failed. Anyone who can find and capture Bigfoot can earn a generous reward from Pixis. Eren and his friends actually tried to look for it but ran into his older half-brother, Zeke, instead (he kind of looked like one in the dark). He and his friends did not realize they walked all the way to Camp Marley.

Rumor 2: Someone went to Camp Marley to serenade Annie Leonhart when she was outside playing the piano. Annie refused to reveal who, yet she blushed every time someone from Camp Marley asked. Someone (*cough Ymir) had an idea who. Some campers claimed to see Ymir often tease Armin after the rumors started. It is possible the Armin did it.

Rumor 3: Levi Ackerman likes Hange Zoe from Strix cabin and vice versa. Actually, it seemed more like a fact than a rumor to everyone except them.

Let's look at the evidence:

Evidence 1: Levi always takes care of Hange when she forgets to take care of herself. It typically ranges from, but not limited to: making sure she eats, jumping into any time she is at risk for injury without a second thought, tending to her wounds when she does get hurt, forcing her to bathe (Connie accidentally walked into it once. He vowed to constantly check on Levi and Hange's whereabouts before he gets killed by Levi's death glare), and "accidentally" eliminating any suitors Hange may have.

(He does not actually kill them or anything. That is against camp rules. There was one time when Zeke Yeager went to Camp Paradis to confess his feelings to Hange. He actually almost made it to her cabin but a random shoe "accidentally" hit him on the head, causing him to stumble and fall into the lake. No one knows how he fell, but Hange walked out to see what was going on. She saw Levi drinking tea nearby, while mysteriously missing a shoe, and went to him. Apparently, she did not see Zeke at all, so Zeke had to get help from Pieck, who was hiding nearby)

Evidence 2: Hange rants to Levi about her latest research back home. Hange can talk anyone into sleeping with the amount of research she does. Yet, Levi stays up to listen. It could be because of his insomnia, but he never gets tired of listening to her rants. Other campers note that he at least looks interested every time Hange rants.

Evidence 3: The one incident last year when Hange was jealous and did not talk to Levi for half of the camp duration. There was a rumor going around that Levi was dating Petra, counselor of Lynx cabin. As a result, Hange hung out with Moblit, counselor of Lupus cabin, more that year instead. Hange claimed it was to give the couple space, but only her closest friends could tell something was up.

For instance, Eren was hiking on another expedition to find Bigfoot when he ran into Hange, kicking down a tree in anger. Eren immediately ran back to camp in hopes that Hange did not notice him and broke his bones. He was actually intimidated by her for a week.

(In reality, Hange was so sure Levi was going to confess to her that year. Additionally, Levi was jealous of how Hange spent time with Moblit more. Not everyone in camp could tell except for his campers Eren, Jean, and Connie. They could feel the chills running down their spines every time Levi was in the cabin with them, and it was summer.)

Evidence 4: Levi was always by Hange's side. Anyone in the camp can tell you that Levi is at least nearby Hange unless it is for very personal reasons (except bathing). He mainly stayed close to her after last year's incident when he literally kicked down her door and cleared the misunderstandings.

(In reality, Levi and Petra were not dating. Petra had confided to Levi about dating advice (for a reason he is unaware of, except everyone in the camp *cough Hange *cough). In the end, Levi remained single and had to fix the Strix cabin's door. On the bright side, Petra started dating Oluo Bozado from Meles cabin.)

Neither party had ever confessed to one another despite all the evidence proving that they have feelings for one another. Now that both Levi and Hange are about to graduate high school, it was the perfect time to confess before they go their separate ways because of their careers.

However, life is very unexpected, and when you add Hange to the mix…

Well, anything goes.

---

"This is it," Hange said to herself as she got everything ready in her canoe. She was prepared to sail across the lake towards Levi's cabin.

Both cabins were situated on different sides of the lake. The camp was designed so one half was for boys and the other half was for girls. It was a very dumb inconvenience for Hange.

Hange scoffed as she sat down on the canoe and began rowing. "Why couldn't our cabins be placed next to each other. It would give me less work to do." The only guy and girl cabins next to each other were Petra's cabin and Mike's cabin.

Hange decided that today was the day she will confess to Levi. They have been in an awkward "does he/she like me? does he/she not?" for years now, and none of them confessed at all. There are even rumors about it, for crying out loud!

The two had met three years ago when Hange and Levi were campers at Camp Paradis. It was really unexpected. Hange was ready to get down in the dirt during the activities and often kept some insects to study. On the other hand, Levi was a clean freak and a prodigy at the camp activities. It became sort of like a friendly competition between the two, and then they suddenly started hanging out more. They have known each other for years. She even calls herself his best friend.

(She never realized how recently Levi would scowl every time she claimed to be his best friend. To him, she was much more than that.)

Overall, Hange would look forward to seeing Levi again every summer.

It has been four years of dancing around whatever they have that Hange now dared herself to confess before the summer ends, and they leave for college. It is better to do something and get rejected (which she hopes does not happen) than do nothing.

Hange stopped rowing when she got close enough that Levi has to hear her. She could make out his figure sitting on the front steps of his cabin with Mike, Erwin, and Furlan.

She sets the oar to the side, takes a deep breath, and presses play on the small radio she took from Rico's cabin. The beginning notes of the song plays in the air.

You can do this

Hange began to sing the first line.

---

Minutes before

Mike, Erwin, and Furlan were talking about who knows what, not Levi was not paying attention anyway. His mind was preoccupied with a certain eccentric girl he knew.

She was very secretive lately. Sometimes she would freak out whenever Levi approached her, and he has not seen her all day. He even planned on confessing to her after dinner. It seemed as if Hange was preoccupied with something.

Levi would not even get to say one word before Hange ran off, claiming she is busy and cannot be disturbed.

Levi scowled at the thought. Hange would usually tell him beforehand if she is busy, but her saying nothing? Something is definitely up, but she wants to not tell him then it was fine by him (or so he says).

Furlan, who noticed Levi's brooding, smirked. "Hey Levi, are you thinking about Hange again?"

Mike and Erwin stopped talking and smirked as well.

Levi rolled his eyes. "I was not thinking about Hange. At all." He said in a serious tone.

"Mhmm," Furlan replied. He shifted in his spot and gave Levi a smug look. He was not convinced.

"Don't hide it, Levi," Mike added. "We all know how you go goo-goo eyes every time Hange enters the room. You are always checking up on her too."

"I don't make goo-goo eyes at Hange," Levi deadpanned with a monotone voice. "I only check up on her because it is a miracle she can see those dirty her glasses she wears."

Erwin's smirk never faded away as he lightly elbows Furlan on the side. "He always calls her by two nicknames, Furlan. He gives anyone more than one nickname too. They might not sound endearing, but he rarely calls Hange by her name."

"Can you imagine what Levi is thinking now?" Furlan laughed. He turned around from his spot, so he back faced Levi, hugged himself, and started making fake kissing noises.

"Oh, Hange! I don't want to be just friends with you. I will marry you, and we're going to have 100 bab-"

Levi slapped Furlan on the head. He stood up the moment Furlan spoke. Mike and Erwin were in the background howling with laughter.

"Cut the crap, Furlan," Levi said and made his way back to his spot on the steps.

"Ok, ok. You win, Levi." Furlan rubbed the back of his head where Levi had slapped him. Luckily for him, Levi did not hit him too hard, and it did not hurt that badly. He goes back to talking to Mike and Erwin about other counselors about other rumors they heard. He will tease Levi again later.

Meanwhile, Levi rolled his eyes at his friend's childishness and began to think about the subject of his earlier torment. It was already almost dinner time, and he has not seen Hange all day. He was hoping she would at least appear for dinner, or else he would have to drag her to the dining hall by force.

Levi was busy with his thoughts and staring at his feet to notice anything around him. He was too busy to focus on the music playing, and the girl he (does not) have a crush on making her way over from across the lake.

"Uhh, Levi?" Furlan spoke while looking at the lake. Levi ignored him; instead, he was too busy thinking about Hange to notice she was heading towards him at that very moment.

Mike and Erwin turned to face what Furlan was staring at. Their jaws dropped.

On Lake Sina was the one and only Hange Zoe making her way towards Levi's cabin on a canoe while singing the song "We Belong" by Pat Benatar so loud that everyone in the camp could hear her. She also wore shorts and a camp T-shirt. She did not wear a life jacket.

Talk about romantic.

"Levi!" Mike said urgently and shook his shoulder.

"What?" Levi turned to Mike. He was irritated by his friends messing with him about his crush (yes, he will admit it but not out loud to his nosy friends).

What else did they need now? They could always bother someone else.

Levi noticed where Mike was pointing to and was about to turn in said direction until he heard a voice coming from somewhere behind him.

"Well, it seems like you won't die a virgin after all, huh, shortass? Who knew?"

Levi knew that voice. His cousin, Mikasa, from Cervidae cabin, Levi had the pleasure (not) of watching over at this camp. It was a good thing he did not have to deal with her and her obvious crush on Eren Jaeger. He did feel bad for Rico because she had to deal with that gloomy brat in her cabin.

Levi turned around to face his cousin. She was standing a few feet away from him with a few of her friends that he recognized. The tall, brunette one with her hair in a ponytail, Sasha, also from Cervidae cabin, was eating a sandwich (she probably got it from the camp across the lake). She must have raided Camp Marley recently.

(They have a chef there who can apparently make really delicious food. Levi only knew because Hange planned on kidnapping him one time just to try some).

Mikasa's other friend, Historia, the short blonde-haired girl from Lynx cabin, smiled pleasantly at Levi.

"What are you talking about, brat?" he glared at Mikasa.

Historia giggled and pointed in the direction of the lake. "Over by the lake. Can't you hear Hange singing? I knew she could sing, but wow! I wonder if she is singing to a lucky guy? That would be so adorable!"

Levi's eyes widen in surprise. He tuned out Historia's gushing when it hit him.

That means…Hange...oh no.

He turned his head to find that Hange was indeed singing and making her way towards his direction.

His direction!

Erwin and Mike noticed the blush on Levi's face and smirked. Furlan clamped his hand on Levi's shoulder like a proud dad. Levi could hear the smirk in Furlan's voice that he would love to punch away if it weren't for Hange.

"I wonder who the guy is too, Historia. He is indeed a lucky guy."

Levi shook Furlan off and started heading towards Hange.

Hange noticed Levi coming closer and stops rowing. She dropped her oar off to the side.

"Hey! Levi!" She yelled out loud while waving her arms around.

She did not have to yell so loudly, though. The sound traveled perfectly from her mouth and into Levi's ear within seconds because of the lake.

He began speed walking towards Hange.

There was a voice in the background yelling something about how Hange was doing great so far. It sounded like Nifa, but Levi was too busy to check. He needed to get to Hange first.

Levi watched as Hange accidentally drops her oar into the lake when she moved back to row some more. Hange, scrambling to retrieve it, said an "I got it!" in her normal voice until she accidentally tripped and fell into the lake.

She was not wearing a life jacket on either.

Levi stopped speed walking and ran towards Hange. Once he was close to the lake, and without thinking, he took off his shirt and dove into the lake to save Hange.

---

Also a few minutes ago

"I know Hange is a smart girl and all, but wouldn't it have been easier to just walk around the lake to confess to Levi?" Nanaba asked aloud as she took a sip from her water bottle. Some sweat dripped down her brow from being out in the sun all day.

Nanaba sat on the steps of her cabin (Alces) while her campers was out and about. Her cabin was next to Hange's, and she even helped Hange prepare before her big love confession.

Rico, who walked by earlier to see why Nanaba was staring at the lake, sighed from Nanaba's right. "Love does weird things to you, Nanaba. Remember when Mike confessed to you last year? I wonder why do people from this camp confess while using the lakes, though?" She questioned while recalling that one rumor and how Mike confessed to Nanaba by bringing her to a picnic near Lake Maria.

Nanaba laughed and turned to Rico while wiggling her eyebrows. She grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "So when are you going to get a canoe across the lake and confess to Ian?" she said while gesturing to Hange, who was still singing to Levi.

Rico blushed and elbowed Nanaba's side. "Shut up! I do not like Ian like that! Mind your own business!" She turned away from Nanaba and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her face was still red.

Nanaba turned back to watch Hange sing and rests her chin on the palm of her hand. Her elbow was resting on her thigh. "Mhmm. Go tell yourself that."

"I think it's a cute idea. It would be very boring and tiresome to walk around the lake just to confess. Serenading on the lake is much more unique." Nifa, counselor of Tamias cabin, piped up from Nanaba's left. She had heard Hange's singing nearby and was curious about what was going on. She sat next to Nanaba. It seemed like Nanaba knew what was going on.

Ah. It seemed that Nifa also joined in on the watch party, Nanaba thought. Now a good chunk of the camp was curious about Hange's business.

The trio watched as Hange rowed closer to Levi. This time, some of the campers from the other cabins watched Hange from Levi's side. They did not stand close but a far distance instead. They were curious about what was going on and did not want to get too close to suffer from Levi's wrath.

They all watched as Levi stood up from his spot and began speed walking towards the lake. Meanwhile, Hange continued to sing her song.

Nifa brought her hands up to her face and cupped them around her mouth to amplify her voice.

"You're doing great, sweetie!"

Hange was doing great. Indeed, she was almost at her destination. All she had to do was pick up the oar and go back to rowing…

Until she accidentally dropped her oar, causing Levi to start running towards her.

They could not hear what Hange said, but they could assume she was trying to reassure Levi that she was ok and to retrieve the oar...until she misstepped and fell into the lake.

Oops.

Nanaba and Rico turned to Nifa with a shocked look. Nifa held her hands up in innocence.

"I swear. I did not mean or intend for all of that to happen."

"We have to help Hange!" Nanaba yelled. Both she and Rico stood up to try to help Hange but stopped by Nifa, grabbing the back of their shirts.

"What are you doing, Nifa?" Nanaba said with irritation. Nifa did not say anything but nodded her head towards the lake. She lets go of their shirts after they brought their attention to the lake too.

The girls watched as Levi took his shirt off and dove into the lake to save Hange.

Problem solved.

"Doesn't Levi know that Hange is a good swimmer?" Nifa asked from behind Nanaba.

Rico scoffed. "You tell me. I always have to train for the swimming competitions, but I can never beat her." Rico always dreaded when her cabin was put up against Hange’s. She usually placed at either second or third place. No one could outswim Hange, not even Levi.

They watched as Levi grabbed Hange, threw her over his shoulder, and made his way back to his cabin. The onlookers made a path for him because they were too scared to focus on Levi.

The girls sighed with relief. This was practically a typical day at Camp Paradis.

Nanaba turned to Rico and Nifa. "Anyone up for a snack at the dining hall?"

After everything they just saw, Rico and Nifa both nodded in agreement.

---

"Is the cabin empty?" Hange asked from behind the bathroom door. It has been an hour since the incident. Levi had dragged her into his cabin, and he threw her into his bathroom. He also gave her some of his extra set of clothes and demanded that she took a bath before she gets sick.

Each cabin has two bathrooms, so each camper only had to share with one person. Levi shoved Hange into his/Eren's bathroom while he took a shower in Jean/Connie's. Hange freshened up and clean, stood stationary behind the bathroom door. She practically smelled like Levi. From the soap, she used to the clothes she wore. They all smelled like the definition of clean.

"Yes." That was all Levi replied with a slightly irritated tone in his voice.

Hange groaned from behind the door and rested her forehead on the hardwood. That was the voice Levi would use when he was ready to lecture her. She leaned her head back and placed her hand on the doorknob. She took a deep breath as she opened the door and met Levi's expecting face. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly, he had his arms crossed over his chest, and he looked a bit irritated.

(Hange was thankful that he was dressed similarly to her and she did not walk out to see him shirtless)

She walked towards Levi, sitting on his bed. Each cabin is big enough for each camper to have a total of four beds. Each footstep was like a walk of shame for Hange. Yet, Levi did not say a word. He spoke up the moment she sat down next to him on the bed. The bed shifted down slightly from the extra weight.

"Hange, what were you thinking? You did not have a life jacket on, and you fell in the middle of the lake. You scared a lot of the camp and me. Be careful next time you pull something like that," He said while facing her, concern laced in his voice.

Hange rubbed the back of her neck nervously. She looked up to meet Levi's steel-gray eyes.

"I'm sorry I worried everyone, Levi. I will be more considerate next time. Although…"

Hange began to chuckle to herself at the memory of Levi umping in to save her.

"You know I'm a good swimmer, right?" She placed her hand on Levi's shoulder and shook it slightly. "I would have made it back just fine-"

She stopped shaking his shoulder and sets it down on her lap. "I appreciate you umping in to save me, though." She said with a grin.

Suddenly, Hange raised her hands and leaned forward. She wrapped both of her arms around Levi's midsection and pulled him close to her body for a hug. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Levi."

Levi prayed that Hange could not feel his heart pounding against his chest or see him blush. His crush was close to him, for crying out loud!

He moved his arms to hug Hange back. He could feel nervousness rising up in his body along with his rapid heartbeat. This is it. He will confess to Hange now, and it does not matter if he gets rejected or not. She had to know, even if the song she sang was for someone else.

Levi leaned back from Hange, but he maintained the hug. Their faces were only a few inches away from each other.

"Hange, I have something to tell you. I need you to hear me out for a few minutes."

Hange nodded in agreement. "Ok…" she said with some uncertainness. She was unsure what he was going to say, and he gave her the most serious look on his face. He stared deeply into her amber-brown eyes.

"I appreciate you."

Huh?

Hange tilted her head in confusion. "Come again, Levi."

Levi looked away and sighs. Ok. That was not a rejection. He just has to change tactics to get it to Hange and hopefully not make it sound awkward. Levi had no experience with him confessing before. Other girls had confessed to him, but it was with material stuff. He wanted to use words for his confession.

Levi looked up again and stared into Hange's eyes again. "I want to dedicate my heart to you." Ok, now that sounded a bit too much.

Levi continued speaking anyway before he could change tactics again.

"I just want to say that I like you, Hange." He said sincerely. "I like listening to you talk, your personality, and your humor. I want you to at least be aware before we go to college and if the song from earlier is not for me."

Levi stared at Hange's face and attempted to read her emotions. Her eyes widened with shock, and her mouth was open in a small o. She stayed that way for a few minutes until the shock became full-on laughter.

Hange was laughing at him.

She let go of Levi and threw her head back. Her face was full of delight.

Usually, Levi would not mind listening to her laugh, even if it was at him. It was one of his favorite sounds to her, not that she needed to know that.

However, this is different from before. Levi frowned but did not make a move to stand up. He needed an explanation for this.

Hange turned back to Levi after she calmed down a bit. "Levi." She said. Her voice had some laughter evident in her voice. Here comes the rejection.

"The song was for you."

What?

Levi only blinked in response. Hange began to swing her legs a bit and placed her hands on her lap. "I wanted to confess to you today, and I thought what serenade you from the lake." She explained.

"I guess I was too excited to miss some necessities. Sorry about that, by the way."

She leaned forward to grab Levi's right hand. Levi made no move to remove it, so she interlocks their fingers together.

"But you beat me to it, huh, Levi?" She chuckled while staring down fondly at their hands.

Levi stared at their hands as well. He could not believe this. They were going to confess to each other on the same day.

Suddenly, Levi leaned forward to rest his head on Hange's shoulder. "Will you be my girlfriend, Hange?"

Hange turned to Levi in shock. Levi moves his head to meet her eyes. The eyes he adores.

Hange smiled at him. Her eyes glowed with happiness. "Yes." That was enough for Levi.

He let go of Hange's hand and placed it on the back of her head. He grasped her hair a bit but not rough at all.

Hange watched as Levi leaned closer.

And closer.

Until they were a few centimeters apart. The cabin was quiet except for their breathing. Both of their breaths fanned each other's faces.

"What are you doing, Levi?" Hange asked with a hint of curiosity. She made no move to pull away, so Levi took it as a sign to explain his motives.

"Can I kiss you?"

Hange blinked a few times before nodding her head to give Levi an ok.

Levi closed the gap between the two. It was a short and sweet kiss. There heat or desire to move their relationship up to another base.

They leaned back from the kiss with a happy look on their faces. Hange had a goofy grin while Levi smiled at her. It was rare to see Levi smile, and Hange was delighted to be a source for it.

"That was my first kiss," Hange confessed.

"Mine too." Levi chuckled. His hand was still gripping Hange's hair. He kept his grip as he elated back on the bed, bringing Hange down with him.

"Levi!" Hange exclaimed and sat up on her elbows. Who knew Levi was so bold?

"What if the other campers see us?" She said with some nervousness.

Levi rolled his eyes and lightly flicked Hange's forehead. "We are not having sex. I'm just tired, and I want to take a nap with my girlfriend."

He smirked. "Besides, I sent my campers over to Furlan's cabin. They won't come back until we have to go to bed."

Hange looked at him suspiciously while rubbing her forehead from earlier. "You promise?"

Levi nodded his head. "I promise."

Hange let out a small yawn. It has been a long day. She moved so she can lay her body to the spot next to Levi. Meanwhile, Levi turned over to face his nightstand, so he can set his alarm for them to wake up before dinner. He then picked up the blanket and placed it over both of their bodies. They were both facing the wall.

"Sleep well, Hange." He spooned her from behind and placed a small kiss on the back of her neck.

Hange smiled before getting comfortable in Levi's arms. "Goodnight, Levi."

The two spent a few minutes in silence and tranquility. Levi was happy to spend some quality time with his dream girl.

“Hey, Levi. Use that dedicate your heart line for when you propose.” He can hear the smugness in Hange’s voice.

He lightly kicked her on the shin. “Go to sleep.”

Hange could not see it, but Levi had a small smile on his face as he drifted off to sleep.

---

"I KNEW IT!!!" Nanaba yelled while standing up and pointing at the new couple walking into the dining hall holding hands. Erwin and Mike were startled by the sudden outburst. Furlan was smirking victoriously. His friend, Isabel, rolled her eyes at Furlan's smirk.

(Petra, Nifa, Moblit, and Rico were sitting at another table noticed the couple at the doorway. Nifa and Petra squealed in delight while Rico and Moblit smiled. The other girls from Hange's cabin squealed as well since they secretly shipped her with Levi).

Levi and Hange stopped walking. Hange started laughing behind her free hand, and Levi gave Nanaba an annoyed look.

Everyone stopped eating to turn to the source of the sound. Nanaba, noticing the multiple stares, rubs the back of her head nervously and laughs. "Sorry about that, go back to eating."

Furlan smirked as Levi and Hange passed by the usual table to get some food. He turned to Isabel sitting next to him. He stuck his hand out to her and moved his fingers in pay-up motion. "Pay up, Isabel. I won the bet."

Isabel stuck out her tongue at him. "If only Levi-Bro waited until the end of the summer. I would have won 50 bucks," she said while reluctantly handing Furlan 50 dollars.

Furlan hummed in content and pocketed the money in his shorts pocket. "Appreciate the business, Izzy. Now, are you willing to put down money for when Levi and Hange get married?" He said and held his hand out for a handshake to seal the agreement.

Isabel smirked and shook Furlan's hand in agreement. "You're on, Furlan. We'll discuss this later." She turned away from Furlan and smiles at the couple coming to their table. "The new couple is coming here now."

"Hi everyone!" Hange beamed after sitting down across from Furlan. Levi sat between Hange and Nanaba.

Everyone at the table said hi in reply.

Erwin pushed his finish tray slightly on the table in front of him and turned to Hange. "Congratulations, Hange and Levi. I hope the two of you have a happy relationship."

Nanaba and Mike smiled as well. "Congrats, Levi," said Nanaba.

"Congrats, Hange," said Mike.

"I knew you could do it. Levi-Bro! You have had a crush on Hange since forever!" Isabel exaggerated the word forever.

Levi blushed, and Furlan smirked. He turned to Hange. "Say, Hange. How many kids-"

"Don't even finish that sentence, Furlan." Levi threatened, yet his face was still red from blushing. He did not want Furlan to bring up the conversation about children from earlier today.

Hange laughed from the interaction and leaned down to kiss Levi on the cheek. "Don't worry about him, Furlan." She leaned down towards his ear.

"We can discuss the number of children we would have later." She winked at him and went back to eating as if nothing happened between the two. Meanwhile, Levi opened his mouth slightly in shock. He did not expect that out of Hange! Mike, Erwin, and Furlan chuckled at this.

Nanaba (who luckily did not hear Hange) still noticed Levi's shock. "Levi, close your mouth before some flies get in." she lectured to him in a motherly tone. This broke Levi out of his shock, and he goes back to focus on eating.

Everyone continued talking and sharing any recent stories they had. Suddenly, Hange slammed her hands down on the table, shocking everyone at the table. She turned to face Levi.

"Levi! Where is Mikasa? We need to tell her about us!" She exclaimed and shook Levi's shoulders.

Oh, right. Hange would want to tell Mikasa about her new relationship since she saw Mikasa as family. Plus, they will most likely be an actual family in the future. Levi raised his hands up to grab Hange's and set it down on her lap. "Stop, Hange. She's probably eating with Eren and Armin. We can tell her later."

Erwin raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Actually, Levi. I haven't seen Mikasa ever since she showed up with Sasha and Historia. Isabel put her utensils down and joined in on the conversation.

"I saw her with Eren and Armin an hour before dinner. They were sitting together deep in a conversation…"

Levi looked up to scan his eyes across the dining hall. He noticed Armin's blonde hair sitting at his regular table with his friends. He sat at a table with Jean, Connie, Sasha, Ymir, and Historia. He noted how Armin noticed his stare and looked away as if he was scared of him.

Mikasa and Eren were nowhere in sight.

---

Bonus:

"Be careful, Eren!"

Mikasa said while raising her voice slightly. She did not want to yell, or else she might alert anyone in the forest.

"I'll be fine, Mikasa," he assured her. "I can feel it! Bigfoot is nearby." He said with excitement.

"This is the last time, Eren. We are already missing dinner, and who knows if Armin can stall for us any longer. Levi is going hunt us down. Plus, I don't want to end up in Camp Marley again."

Mikasa and Eren only had a few snacks on them. Mikasa managed to slip into her cabin to grab some from Sasha's secret stash. Sasha and Historia were busy watching the chaos at the lake.

"I promise, Mikasa. Thank you for coming with me. I don't think I can do this alone." He turned back to Mikasa with a big grin. He was also recalling the time he was searching in the forest to find Bigfoot and ran into an angry Hange instead,

Mikasa smiled in return, and the two continued their search to find Bigfoot.

Meanwhile, the two did not realize that they passed a figure watching them from a reasonable distance away behind a tree. Its eyes watched as the two humans continued their search. It slipped away sneakily into the darkness. It went away from Camp Paradis and towards the forest near Camp Marley instead.

---

Some quick notes:

I kinda based this fic off of one scene from Pitch Perfect 2 and other summer camp-related movies I watched (I don't have much knowledge of summer camp 😭)

Cabin names are based on scientific names of different animals

I hc Hange being good at swimming. Let's face it. If she can swim down a river while carrying a 65 kg man, and miraculously not get any gunshot wounds (not counting a spike in adrenaline to live); I'm sure Hange is a good swimmer.

#levihaneggschange2021 #levihan #levihan fanfiction #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levihan eggschange

80 notes · View notes