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merakiui · 4 months

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100%

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, pregnancy, implied baby-trapping, captivity, very vague and slight implications of codependency, angst note - your mobile phone was at 100% when he took you away. with time, the percentage has diminished. so, too, does your hope for a brighter future.

The windowpane is spattered with rain.

Sitting cozy in a cushioned alcove, you watch the droplets slide down in regal rivulets, consolidating to form single streaks. The scenery beyond the window is bleak and dreary—a despondent landscape of gnarled, leafless trees and scratchy brambles stretching towards a dark, dismal sky. Sometimes you liken the rain to tears, wondering if Mother Nature weeps for all creatures or simply for you and your situation. Rare are the days in which the sun shines upon the craggy stone façade of your captor’s castle, and she is as benevolent as she is cruel.

For all of its sumptuous splendor, generational wealth filling the interior with priceless heirlooms and relics, it is an empty, cold structure. You’ve taken to enveloping yourself in thick furs, if only because these furs do not speak like the monster who so humbly offers his embrace. Though you’ve always considered yourself of strong, sturdy mind, your restraint is thinning. As the days pass and you shed clothing sizes like they’re second skins, you find yourself drawn to warmth.

Which is, ironically enough, contradictory to your current temperament. The windows, frigid like the grave, provide solace you cannot find anywhere else—for it is only tender warmth you receive from him. Had he not been so merciful, perhaps it would have been easier to shrink away and truly loathe him with every ounce of your being.

And yet, in order to escape the warmth which enshrouds, you seek the cold, bitter windows and their rain-weary countenance.

Lying beside you on the pillows, snoozing the afternoon away, a calico cat snores idly. She was a gift from him. You were neglectful of your mental health and thus, as per his guard’s suggestion, he sought to find a cat to cure your loneliness and inspire some form of happiness. You appreciate Silver—genuinely, you do—but the good luck a calico brings is not nearly enough to rescue you from captivity.

She was a stray, a scrawny thing with a limp and one bad eye. You took to her right away, scooping her up in your arms and lovingly naming her Cotton. Similarly, she returned your affections, rubbing her head against your palm and purring pleasantly.

Now she likes to nudge the dome that is your stomach, a great, round thing at only six months. Sometimes you think she’s more motherly than you are. You’ve never been able to care for much of anything. Plants wither under your touch, recipes spoil even when you follow them to the letter, and your electronics crack.

Your phone, more fractured than your very heart, is cold in your hands. The screen is blank; it’s dying. It was at 100% before. Now it’s been reduced to a sad 7%. There is no reception or connection to be had in Briar Valley. Your phone, once so powerful and all-knowing, is but a hollow shell. Useless. A digital photo album will expire at its final hour, and there’s no charger. He offered to use his magic to charge it, but he has never known his own strength and you couldn’t risk losing the treasured memories stored within.

Sometimes you’d return to old message logs and read through them. Now you can’t do that, lest you drain the battery quicker than intended.

“So this is where you’ve retreated,” Malleus notes, poking his head around the corner of a towering bookcase. Concern settles on his features. “Are you well? Sebek tells me you were absent for breakfast.” “I wasn’t hungry,” you mutter, watching his reflection through the stormy glass.

Malleus glances at Cotton and then at your phone as it rests in your clasp. “May I trouble you to eat just a little, if only some fruit?”

“I’m not hungry.” He nods, stalling. “Will you join me for lunch?”

“If I must.”

A small smile lifts his lips. “Are you cold? It can’t be very comfortable to sit there for such a long time. You’ll catch your death.”

“I hope.”

He tuts in disapproval and shrugs out of his cloak, draping it over you even though you’re already wearing a fleece robe. Malleus assesses you with a fleeting once-over.

“It doesn’t hurt to layer. You must understand where I’m coming from, dearest. Extreme temperatures serve to weaken those who are already so fragile.”

“I’m not fragile,” you snap, turning to scowl.

He doesn’t flinch at the heat smoldering in your eyes. “You’re human.”

“How many times did you have to practice that to come to terms with it?”

Malleus’s verdant stare narrows; his frown tightens. “It’s the truth.”

“I didn’t think you’d confront it.”

“I must if I’m to understand…” He exhales through his nose, deflating somewhat. “You’re in fine health. The physician tells me so. There’s no need to worry ourselves with ineffectual what-ifs.”

You turn your gaze on the sprawling forest next, unwilling to discuss the report and its subsequent conclusion: If she remains in good health and follows the recommended diet for an expecting mother, she’ll carry to term.

“My phone is dying, Malleus.”

“Is that not life? Lilia once said so.”

“My pictures… My everything is stored in this phone. It means so much to me.”

“Truly? Is there not a way to make physical copies of these photographs?”

“Unless Briar Valley has the technology to do so…”

“I’m afraid not.”

Malleus takes a daring step closer, endeavoring to comfort you. Cotton cracks her good eye open to peer at him. She hisses low in her throat, a protector standing small against something so tall. Pouting, clearly disheartened, Malleus heeds her warning and chooses to linger just within the bounds she deems acceptable.

“Yeah, that’s what I assumed.”

You heave a dejected sigh, your shoulders drooping. Seeking to cleanse your visual palate, you power the device on. 5% blinks back at you, an insignificant number sitting in a corner that you normally wouldn’t have paid much mind to. Now it weighs heavy, a reminder that the end is encroaching.

“I would’ve liked to keep these photos forever,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. Malleus hums his acknowledgement; you think he knows the feeling—or some variant of it, at least. “If I lose these pictures…”

“Do you not have memories?”

“I do, but it isn’t the same. One day I’ll grow old and my memory will be frail. I won’t remember nearly as much as I do now. Those memories will become ghosts and eventually I’ll—”

“You will not.” There’s a finality to the declaration—you won’t leave me; you won’t drain or die like this mobile device.

You rest your head against the window. The cool glass soothes your soul. I wonder what the others are up to right now… You place your hand upon your belly. I wonder if they’d have any good ideas for a name. I’m terrible at naming things. I can never pick something that feels right.

“I’d like to have a funeral for my phone.”

But maybe there is no right thing.

“Of course,” he agrees, perfectly serious. You will have that phone funeral, just as you will have every other request you make—however patently absurd it may seem. (Every other request except for freedom, of course.) “Materials may not have the same worth as a loved one, but the experiences they provide are just as valuable. Surely, no? Otherwise I would not feel so troubled when Roaring Drago…” Pausing to search for the placeholder, Malleus glances at your phone. “Perhaps there is no greater tragedy than existence itself.”

“It’s the most bittersweet burden,” you echo, scrolling through each picture with wistful remembrance. “But then I’d rather know the fleeting frivolity of life than endure hundreds of years of solitude. It makes me appreciate everything that much more.”

You stop at a picture of you and Malleus, a photo snapped by Lilia himself. Part of you often wonders why he chose you—why he adores you to such a degree when you, like everyone else, will inevitably perish. But therein lies the allure: That which is unobtainable is even more tempting. And because there is only one of you, a human destined to one day return to her home world, your very presence is more fleeting than a dream.

To Malleus, who has always dreamt, fond and fervent, of the unobtainable mundanity of normal life, you are a sweet, tangible blessing.

“Horns, do you think I’ll ever get another chance to have my phone at 100%?”

He softens under the nickname. It means more to him than his lofty station. “Would you like to know that joy?”

“It would be nice, yes, but then I’d just get sad when it reaches zero. I guess I should be grateful it’s stayed alive for this long. Sorry, it’s a stupid question. Just forget it.”

“Nonsense. There is no such thing.” He reaches to touch your cheek, but Cotton hisses again and so he refrains. She stands on unsteady legs and climbs into your lap, perching awkwardly in spite of your rounded belly. The sight draws a deep chuckle from him. “Your feline friend is quite taken with you.”

“It’s probably because I’m warm. She likes my belly a lot.”

“As do I.”

You roll your eyes.

“Your beauty is most beguiling. There’s a certain radiance to your person. It’s very charming. Do you not agree?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere—definitely not in Cotton’s good graces.”

“I’m simply voicing a fact.”

Your hand slides down from your stomach to pat Cotton. She purrs under your touch, and a weak approximation of a smile tugs at your lips. Amidst all of this sorrow, she is a glimmer of hope. In a way, she’s like you—a stray without a place in this world, snatched from the cobbles she once wandered and confined in a cage of royal opulence. Your similarities are striking, if not immensely devastating.

“Fact or not, I don’t care if I look pretty. It means nothing to me.”

“To be impartial towards appearances… Quite a noble mindset.”

I never once thought you were scary or strange, Horns. Even now.

You look at your phone once more. 3% flickers back.

You’re just lost, and in being lost you found me. But I was also lost. I never even belonged in this world to begin with…

“I’m not going to be a good mother.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can’t even take care of myself.”

“I shall care for you when you find yourself unable to.”

“I’d rather you not.”

With Cotton having curled on your lap, slumbering peacefully, Malleus chances to close the gap. His broad frame leans to make up for the difference in height, and he runs cold fingers along your cheek. He brushes away the tears you weren’t even aware you were shedding.

You grip your phone in shaky hands, your shoulders hunched. There’s a piercing ache in your chest, pain stabbing all the way through to your heart. It persists when you power it off, unable to delight in pictorial reminiscence for a moment longer. Silent like death, you sob; seismic dismay shudders through you in waves. Distantly, in a forgotten corner of your brain, you suspect this may be the last time you’ll ever use your phone. The last time you’ll ever look upon the photos you’ve amassed. Photos of friends, class notes, food. Photos snapped by mistake, blurry and unfocused. Photos taken when Ace and Grim stole your phone. Precious memories are preserved within the permanence of a photo album—an album that only remains everlasting so long as you keep your phone charged.

Your final shred of the world beyond Briar Valley vanishes in a blip, leaving you with the dark void that is an empty screen. Brutal is the agony, contorting your face, and you bawl like you’ve just witnessed the end of a life.

In a way, you have. You held it in the palm of your hands, and you watched it wither. Watched the percentages drop through numbers, double digits easing into singles. Watched every week and tried to spare your beloved phone of its fate. Watched and attempted to stall the impossible—a foolish undertaking. This was inevitable; you knew this, and yet you’re still mourning.

Perhaps that is the most tragic facet of existence. From the moment one is born, they are mourning. Humans mourn losing time—of allowing it to slip through their fingers when they should have put it to better use. Humans mourn aging even though it is celebrated yearly. Humans mourn for things that are inhuman—for robots stuck in an endless cycle of some menial task while gears grow rusted and systems shut down or trapped on a distant planet, never to return home. For the fruit that falls from trees and rots, trampled and forgotten. For the endings, good and bad, of novels. For art that will never see the light of day because it has been destroyed or stolen or silenced. For the friends they meet, have met, and will meet.

You mourn because you know it’s impending, and you spend all of your life coming to terms with it, only to break down when it finally happens because the truth of the matter is that you will never be prepared no matter how much you prepare yourself. You mourn because you’re a complex human with complex emotions, surviving in a complex world with millions of intricacies, and the only way to weather misery is to mourn.

To the little life cradled in your womb, who knows not of these difficulties yet, they cannot fathom the anguish that accompanies loss. And right now that is all you can hope for—a life without loss.

But that is impossible because loss is true to everyone’s experience. It is part of existence, and existence is inescapable.

Malleus does not gather you in his arms. He will do so if you ask, and he knows you want to ask, which is precisely why he waits. But you’re stubborn and you refuse to give in to the temptation, let alone grant him the satisfaction. It doesn’t offend him.

The windowpane is spattered with rain. So, too, is your phone, spotted with tears and snot.

Briefly, you wonder if you still look beautiful to Malleus.

Even at your ugliest, he would still cherish you. Desperately, as if he might lose you.

Knowing this does not soften the gutting grief.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia x reader #yandere malleus

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blurredcolour · 3 months

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I. "Do You Trust Me?"

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

A slight against one of your dearest friends causes you to act wildly out of character, and Bucky finds himself stepping up to save you as he realizes just what you mean to him after months of seemingly innocuous encounters.

Warnings: Language, Period Typical Sexism, References to Cheating, Reader Knees a Man in the Groin, Perceived Threats of Violence, Plenty of Kissing, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - T.

Author’s Note: Well here we are, watching me write for this show before it's fully aired. Blame/credit to @precious-little-scoundrel and her anon for infecting my brain. Reader has an unnamed brother for sake of plot, no descriptions or y/n used. Events of this fic take place a few days before the horrific Regensburg mission. Also I recognize that WACs did not arrive in the ETO until July of 1943, this fact does not seem to have influenced Hanks/Spielberg so I shan't let it influence me either. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 4217

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The pub was crowded, as usual, and Bucky leaned back in his chair as Curt regaled their table with another one of his stories from Walla Walla. The press of uniform clad bodies, damp from the summer rain outside, created a humid atmosphere. But as he tipped the last few drops of Scotch whisky from his glass into his mouth, he was certain there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Buck had decided to sit this one out, wanting to catch up on his latest letter to Marge. His mouth ticked up at the corners as he reflected once again on how different he and his friend were from one another. Glancing at the bar while he contemplated fetching the next round, Bucky’s eyes widened as they fell on the last person he would ever expect to see in a pub. It took him a moment to recognize you in such an unusual environment, hair perfectly styled. He noted that you were even wearing makeup as your teeth sank into your brightly painted lower lip, wending your way through the crowd, clearly on a mission.

“Bucky are you even listening?” Curt chided with a sharp jab of his elbow into his upper arm.

“Yeah absolutely,” He nodded firmly, unable to take his eyes off you, “every word.” He tacked on as his gaze followed you across the room on your approach to the notorious flirt from 349th squadron, Arthur “Red” Jameson.

He was vaguely aware of the doubtful scoff his reply had earned as his eyes narrowed. Wasn’t your friend Mary rather serious about Red? Not that Red bothered limiting himself to any one woman, local or American – there were few limits that smug redhead put on his relations with the fairer sex. Perhaps that was why Bucky was feeling particularly annoyed with how close you had come to stand next to him at the bar. With the way you were smiling at him. You hardly ever smiled, had to be one of the most serious, reserved women he had ever encountered here in England or back home.

It was when you ducked your head to peer up at Red through your lashes that the realization hit him – you were fucking flirting with him. His fingers clenched tightly on his empty glass, fingertips blanched white as the strength of his grip drove the blood from the flesh there. A slow, knowing smile unfurled across Red’s face as he leaned in, his hand landing on your shoulder making Bucky’s teeth grind together almost painfully as he was flooded with proprietary rage.

The intensity of it startled him, made him take a sharp breath and relax his grip on the glass. Where in the hell had that come from?! The pair of you had spoken no more than a handful of times, simple interactions in the Operations Room of the Control Tower back when he was Air Exec, around the base, or most recently, that afternoon when you had lent him a copy of one of his favorite books, but it wasn’t like you were close. You were quiet, overshadowed by your boisterous friends Mary, Ruth, and that brunette whose name escaped him just then. They were always outgoing at dances while you did an excellent job of decorating the wall. It certainly was not like you were anything more than colleagues. Objectively that was the truth, however, as Bucky sat there watching you grin at that man…

The final straw came as your lips nearly brushed against Red’s ear, making that bastard’s eyes shoot wide, sending Bucky surging to his feet. He narrowly missed one of the low beams overhead as he glared across the crowded room at the cozy pair you and Red presented at the bar.

“Jesus Christ Bucky, did something jump up and bite your ass?!” Curt barked in surprise, the rest of the table laughing loudly in response.

Bucky barely heard them as his new vantage point allowed him a clear view of your knee colliding painfully with the apex of Red’s thighs, causing him to crumple against the bar as you bolted out the back door. Bucky stared after you, just as bewildered as Red’s friends, before they charged out the door in your wake.

“God dammit.” He muttered under his breath before climbing over his friends to make a dash for the front entrance of the pub, his cap clutched in his hand.

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Your Women’s Auxiliary Army Corp unit had arrived at Thorpe Abbots in late May, part of the first battalion of WAACs sent overseas. Assigned to the Eight Air Force, you had spent roughly a week with your British counterparts of the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force observing missions on other bases before it had come time to establish the base for the 100th.

Fast, accurate typing skills and a calm, quiet temperament had seen you promptly assigned as a clerk in the Operations Room, one of the tensest and most chaotic places on the entire base. Upon your arrival at training camp in Fort Des Moines, you had been adopted by a trio of far more outgoing women – Mary from Miami, a sun-kissed blonde who managed to look that way no matter what the weather; Ruth from Pittsburgh, a black-haired beauty who was manufactured from the steel her hometown was known for; and Violet from Savannah, a brunette who elongated every vowel like the southern belle she was.

Why they chose to waste any of their precious time on you was as much as mystery to you in England as it had been in Iowa, and yet any time you tried to convince them you would be perfectly happy sitting out a dance in your barracks with a book instead, they were adamant you attend. Bodily removed you from your cot to join them – not that you were one for dancing, even with the most handsome of airmen. And that title would most certainly have to be bestowed upon Major John Egan. Perhaps a bit of a rogue and more-often-than-not a little too deep into his cups, there was something undeniably charming about him. A magnetism that drew every woman on the base, and from across all of East Anglia, to him. The handsome devil knew it, too. Of course he did, that was, alas, also part of his charm.

Your trio of outgoing friends had gravitated toward him immediately, traded their fair share of coy looks and dances with him while you looked on quietly from the sidelines. He never really seemed to form that deep a connection with any of them, with any woman for that matter, but that did not deter the female population from trying to be the one to catch his eye for a bit of fun. It was during the long hours of the 100th’s first mission, while he was still serving as Air Exec, that you’d had your first occasion to speak to the man directly.

In the middle of one of the tense periods of waiting for news, he had poked his head into the office to see if anything had come across the teletype or wireless and you had looked up, meeting his eye. He was wearing his sheepskin coat, a striking combination of ivory and cognac colored leather that would have honestly looked absurd on anyone else, yet on him just seemed to belong over his dress uniform.

“Can I help you, Major Egan?” You had asked, fingers poised above your typewriter as you paused your progress in typing up a report for Colonel Huglin.

He had looked at you, startled a moment. “I was convinced you might actually be unable to speak. Glad to know I was wrong. It’s Bucky by the way. Just checking if there were any updates?”

“We’ll be sure to get them to you as soon as we have them, sir.” You had replied professionally, trying to ignore the warmth unfurling beneath your breastbone at having his attention directly solely upon you.

“That’s all I can ask then, thank you.” He had winked before slipping out of the room and heading back towards the plotting map.

It had not taken long for a series of updates to arrive, both by radio and over the teletype and being the highest-ranking clerk in the office, third officer, it was your duty to run them out to him. Grabbing both sheets of paper, you had quickly made your way across the room, startled to find him striding towards you, meeting you halfway. “Here you are Major Egan.”

“Touchdown.” He had grinned and taken them over to review with the others as you had hurried back to your office, gnawing on the inside of your cheek to hide your smile.

You had been admittedly saddened when he had been demoted to squadron commander of the 418th after Colonel Harding assumed command of 100th. For selfish reasons, certainly – your interactions had become increasingly limited after this point – but also because it meant he was more frequently put into harm’s way. Every time he went up in a fort, you found focusing on the job at hand more and more difficult. Unlike the ground crews or the brass, it was not looked upon kindly for the WACs to go running outside to see which forts had come back. Which airmen were injured. Sometimes it would take hours for you to confirm that he was all right, and only then by way of hearsay.

You had still run into Major Egan from time to time, while walking with your group of friends to the WAC mess for dinner – by mid-July you were now serving in the Women’s Army Corp as a 2nd Lieutenant, or after meetings in the Operations Room when he was not flying missions. But the longest conversation you ever had was during one of your breaks earlier that very afternoon. It was an uncharacteristically sunny day, and with no mission in progress you had decided to take your coffee break outside, behind the control tower, sitting on one of the benches the ground crew had built out of scrap wood.

Before you had enlisted, your brother had bought you a copy of his favorite book, one he had never let you read before because you were ‘just a kid’ but now that you were old enough to sign up for the service yourself, he had decided you could have your own copy. With just two pages left, it seemed the perfect way to break up the morbid tallies you had been typing up in the grim office upstairs, and you had just finished the final sentence when a shadow fell over you.

“Now how did you get a copy of my favorite book?”

You had lifted your eyes quickly, squinting slightly into the bright sun that shone from behind him, to see Major Egan standing there.

“Major Egan. You like Guys and Dolls, sir?” You had asked, startled.

“How many times do I gotta tell you it’s Bucky.” He had stepped out of the sunlight to sit beside you carefully. “I love everything by Damon Runyon. Which story did you like the best?” He had leaned in curiously.

Pursing your lips to think over the collection of stories you had just finished, you smiled briefly as the answer came to you. “’Madame La Gimp.’ Where they pass off the bag lady –”

“As a society matron! Yes!” Major Egan chimed in, laughing as he nodded in agreement.

“What…about yours?” You had swallowed, unable to stop yourself.

“God, I haven’t read this book in forever…” he had reached out for it, and you had set it in his hands easily.

He had sucked his teeth in thought as he turned it over in his broad hands. “It’s gotta be a tie between ‘Blood Pressure’ and ‘Hold ‘Em Yale’…ah but ‘Lemon Drop Kid’ is excellent, too.” As he had spoken, he had begun to gesture with the book to emphasize his words, making you press your lips together fondly.

“You can borrow it if you’d like.” You had blurted out before you could stop yourself. “Give me a definitive answer once you’ve read it again.”

Major Egan had looked to you quickly. “Really? But what if…how will I know to get it back to you?” He had raised an eyebrow.

“My name’s on the front page.” You had nodded reassuringly but swallowed tightly as he opened the cover as if to confirm it for himself.

“‘Hey Sis,’” He had begun to read the inscription he found there, bringing your brother’s words to life, “‘lighten up, would you? You don’t have to be so damned serious all the time. See you on the other side.’” He had paused a moment before his eyes had met yours, caught you watching him, before you quickly looked down at the grass at your feet. “Where is he?” he had asked quietly.

“On a ship in the Pacific, somewhere.” You had replied softly, finding each blade of grass infinitely fascinating.

“Are you sure–” He had begun to ask before the sound of your name being called by your very impatient Captain, a woman even Major Egan knew not to waylay, interrupted the peaceful afternoon.

You had leapt to your feet. “You’ll get it back to me.” You had nodded and rushed back inside, believing every word of it.

You had seriously contemplated sharing your encounter with at least Ruth, the more level-headed of your friends, knowing she was the least likely to conflate the exchange with a marriage proposal. But as you returned to your barracks that night, you frowned deeply to find Mary in tears on her cot. After much soothing and rocking in your arms, she finally managed to open up, sharing what had gotten her so upset.

“It’s Red…I caught him out back necking with one of those doughnut truck girls…” She hiccupped and dabbed at her nose with her hanky.

“Oh Mary, I’m so sorry.” You frowned, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.

“Oh god, I can’t believe I let that creep talk me into sleeping with him!” She wailed, fresh tears boiling over onto her cheeks as she sagged onto your shoulder, sobbing anew.

Every muscle in your body tensed as her outburst sunk in, the depth of his betrayal fully registering as Vi and Ruth returned from the end of their shifts in the weather office and Mary launched herself into their arms to fill them in as well. The level of pure fury that seized your body was utterly foreign to you and, unlike the descriptions you had encountered in literature to date, felt utterly icy in your veins. As your friends gently coaxed Mary to the latrines to get herself cleaned up, you hung back, a plan formulating quickly in your mind. Your life without these women would have been lonely, all but intolerable, and this transgression against one of them could not go unanswered. You could not look at yourself in the mirror if you did nothing.

Digging quickly through Mary’s belongings, you found her most alluring shade of lipstick, carefully but efficiently applying it to your lips before unpinning and redoing your hair into a more fashionable shape rather than the more utilitarian style you normally wore. Lastly you added a flick of mascara to your eyelashes and rouge to your cheeks. All this was accomplished using the tiny mirror Vi had set up on the shelf beside her bed. Nodding once in satisfaction, for it was truly the best you could do in a solo effort, you darted out the door, lipstick tube in your pocket for reapplications, if necessary. The cad would never see it coming from you, you just needed to figure out a way to get close enough.

Fortunately, the years you had spent on the sidelines watching the three masters of feminine wiles at work had afforded you quite the education. It was only a matter of finding the perpetrator to enact your revenge. You located him in the second pub you visited, taking a slow breath as your eyes sought him out in the crowded, humid space. The rain had thankfully stopped before your foray out into the night, though the streets remained wet, and you had taken the time to refresh your lipstick and tidy your hair before stepping inside. Your heart began to race as your veins flooded with adrenaline.

‘Easy now. Slow and smooth like Mary, give him that flirty smile she’s famous for.’ You thought to yourself.

As his eyes met yours it was all you could do not to wince back in disgust – you were going to need to hide your dislike better.

‘Pretend he’s someone else. Who would you like him to be?’

You gulped shyly, teeth sinking into your lip at the thought of applying these skills to Major Egan, noting that Red seemed immediately more receptive as you slid up beside him where he stood at the bar.

“Evening, Red.” You smiled at him broadly, swallowing nervously as he echoed the expression warmly.

“Well good evening to you too. You escaped the base.” Red teased you.

You faked a giggle and tilted your head down before flicking your eyes to look up at him through your lashes, something Vi had weaponised to great effect on many an occasion. You tried not to shout in triumph as Red’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, leaning in closer.

“Can I buy you a drink, sugar?”

“Actually…” You smiled coyly before leaning in close to his ear, taking a slow breath before dropping all pretense from your tone. “Mess around with one of my friends again and I’ll cut it off.” You snarled into his ear before driving your knee into his groin as sharply as the straight lines of your uniform skirt would allow, slipping out of his grip as he slouched over the bar with a cry of pain.

You longed to bask in his suffering, in your triumph, but you also recognized you had to get out of there before the consequences of your actions found you. Spying a door propped open to a back alley over Red’s crumpled torso, you made a dash through the stunned corner of the pub and out into the night, pausing a moment before turning to the left, hoping it was the correct direction. You certainly wished you knew your way around town a little better.

Your heart was pounding so hard you were worried it might burst through the front of your WAC jacket as you neared the main street but there was an increasing ruckus behind you – surely Red’s friends in hot pursuit. Suddenly Major Egan appeared in front of you, seemingly out of nowhere, and grabbed your arm, pulling you around a corner and down a smaller alleyway.

“Do you trust me?” He asked quickly, glancing back towards the approaching sound of voices as he shuffled you backward, closer to the brick wall of the building behind you.

You nodded at him, speechless, breathing heavily from your flight. Your uniform cap felt precarious where it was perched on your rapidly falling hairstyle. Major Egan’s aftershave was flooding your senses due to his sheer proximity.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He whispered as his eyes met yours, his own cap at a dangerous angle atop his dark curls, defying gravity.

He shifted forward to crowd your space, your eyes shooting wide as his forearms lifted to press against the wall on either side of your face, body shielding you from view. He bowed his head to press his lips against yours softly, making your eyelids flutter closed, doing nothing to slow the erratic beating of your heart. He tasted a little bit like whiskey, which had reminded you of gasoline the few times you’d had the misfortune of sipping it, but on his plush lips, it was not so bad.

Your hands balled into fists in the olive drab fabric of your skirt, heat painting its way across your cheeks and down your neck as the coarse hair that decorated his upper lip brushed against your skin. It was all too tempting to lose yourself in the feeling of him surrounding you, protecting you, kissing you. Reality reared its ugly head, making you inhale sharply through your nose as you heard the crowd of men stampede right past you muttering angrily.

“That damn cold fish from operations…”

“Who the fuck does she think she is?!”

“No wonder she ain’t got nobody.”

Pulling back from his lips, you frowned down at your brown uniform shoes, still hidden within the cage of his arms.

“Hey…” He murmured, bowing his head to nudge your nose with his, drawing your gaze back up as you swallowed shyly at the tender gesture. “Don’t listen to ‘em.” He urged you, his blue eyes so very dazzling and disarming at this range, even in the dim light of black-out conditions.

“I…It’s ok,” you breathed as you shook your head. “I know I’ll never be…” you furrowed your brow, not even sure what word you were searching for.

“Anything other than perfect, doll?” His lopsided grin was devastating, made it hard to breathe, though that may have also been his continued proximity. He leaned in for another kiss, but you lifted a shaky hand to press against his shoulder.

“Th…they’re gone you don’t have to pretend…” You murmured sadly, shifting to stand, but he did not move an inch, his breath brushing against your cheeks.

“I’m going to kiss you now because I want to, doll.” He murmured, eyes tracing over your face while giving you a moment to respond.

You were, however, frozen, staring at him again and so he pressed his lips firmly to yours, making your fingers curl slightly around the lapel of his uniform jacket. He hummed softly in response, pressing you back against the wall as he slanted his mouth tighter to yours, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. Shivering at the heat of his palms against your skin, you slowly lifted your other hand from your skirt, stretching it towards him, letting it hover between you tentatively.

He dropped his right hand from your cheek to guide your arm around his waist before sliding his own hand to splay against your lower back, drawing a whimper from your throat as you arched slightly.

He pulled back from your lips, chest heaving. “Christ, doll, you have no idea what you do to me.”

“Bucky?” You whispered, confused by his statement, finding it difficult to think clearly.

Bucky groaned and kissed you fiercely, licking at the seam of your lips, sliding his tongue to yours the instant you parted your lips for him. Toes curling in your shoes, you found yourself mewling into his mouth wantonly until he wrenched back suddenly, hand cupping the back of your head as he hugged you tightly into his chest. The sound of voices eventually registered in your addled brain – Red’s friends returning from their failed attempt to find you.

“If I had known all I had to do was kiss you senseless to get you to use my name…” Bucky teased once the coast was clear, panting into your hair.

You giggled against his throat, your own chest heaving as he loosened his hold on you. Your cap tumbled to the ground, fully dislodged by his attentions.

“It’s a burden I’m willing to bear.” He smirked, pressing his lips to your exposed forehead. “Let’s get you back to your barracks. What are you doing out here all dolled up kneeing idiots like Red in the goods anyway?” He asked as he bent to retrieve your cap, dusting it off and placing it in your outstretched hand before turning to slide his arm around your shoulders, leading you toward the main road.

You huffed with a frown as you walked with him, putting your cover back into place snuggly, crushing your once-stylish hair. “I didn’t appreciate the way he treated Mary.”

Bucky smirked at you “Your brother is right you know, you really do need to lighten up…you can just call him a good-for-nothing and be done with it. No need to write a formal treatise on his behavior.”

His lips stretched into a grin as that pulled another laugh from you. You turned to look at him properly and gasped.

“Bucky you have lipstick all over –”

“Perfect” He nodded proudly, cocky grin on his lips, and made no move to clean up his face, while you quickly wiped at yours, knowing you would have to face your barrack-mates. “Next time you go on an attack mission you let me know, alright, doll? I’ll fly on your wing anytime.” He winked at you, and you bit your lip shyly.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You swallowed and stopped walking, leaning in to press your lips to his cheek softly.

As you pulled back, Bucky flexed the arm he still had slung about your shoulders, hauling you in for another heart-stopping kiss, your hands coming to rest against his chest. You had a feeling that the rather lengthy walk back to base was only going to become exponentially longer and found you really did not mind at all.

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

Read Part Two - "Just Had To Trust You."

"Trust" Series Masterlist

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan fic #john egan imagine #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction

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cherryslyce · 11 months

Text

Familial Impasses | Regulus Black

Synopsis: Pressure arises as a familiar face becomes embroiled in political trouble and moral ambivalence. Alternatively: As James Potter’s younger sibling, you fight for Regulus.

Pairing: Regulus Black x (Adopted) Potter!Reader

Notes + WC: 5.4k , James and Sirius are so chaotic.

The Potter household has long been a foundational pillar of love and ease for you. Plumes of cotton clouds were perpetually suspended above the sumptuous manor, and you distinctly remember the day you arrived in front of the regal front yard, donning new robes and the Potter surname.

Even amidst the gloomiest of days, Potter Manor remained unblemished by the sheen of greys and drops of heavy rain. Your parents were tenderhearted folk, often unable to properly reign in the boisterous force that was your brother. James was the apple of your eye when you first arrived in the lived-in home at the ripe age of eight.

Under the near-yellow lights of the entryway, he took you under his wing the second his eyes befell on yours.

Yet, your reminiscing did little to quell the fiery frustration that singed at your patience. After so many years of tumultuous adventures and shared laughter, you felt everything drown away as the forefront of your mind became consumed by the imperious demands he was layering onto you.

“James. You are being absolutely ridiculous right now, do you know that?” You huff out, arms crossed as you stare hotly ahead.

Sirius is settled beside your brother, eyebrows drawn together as an uncharacteristically firm frown decorates his face. James clicks his tongue and pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to catch your eyes, “Y/N, we’re being serious here. Siri and I are graduating soon and we won’t be able to look out for you when we’re gone.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” You mused stubbornly, fixating your gaze on the sprigs of tulips peeking at you from the polished coffee table. “Besides, what the hell are you even protecting me from? Regulus? He would never harm me.”

“You don’t know that.” Sirius interjects, hands rubbing together as James shoots you an admonishing look.

Astonished by the field of conversation, you shake your head as you finally face the two boys, “Sirius, this is your brother we’re talking about! Merlin, if anyone said anything like this about me, you’d both have their head, would you not?” Your narrowed eyes dart towards Sirius as he sighs, placing his hand up to placate you.

“It’s different, Y/N. Regulus is going to take up my father’s mantle soon, and there’s no doubt that he’s already been brainwashed into following the Dark Lord.” Sirius mumbles, face now looking weary as he gazes out of the window behind you.

You bite the inside of your cheek at the mention of the Dark Lord, aware that Regulus had been researching the man for a few months now. Internally, you found solid reason to believe in what your brother was advocating, but your longstanding friendship with Regulus turned you away from the decision to abandon him.

“I’m not going to stop being friends with him.” You announce, eyebrow slanting up as Sirius made an effort to protest your proclamation. “But, if it eases your worries, we’ll strictly talk about school work.”

James and Sirius share a long look of consideration before your brother turns to you and sighs, “Fine, but we won’t like it.” His acquiesce fills you with tepid relief, but you could count it as a temporary victory.

In the stirring waves of your mind, you were completely aware that you’d make little effort to actually change your dynamic with the younger Black brother, knowing that the boy was much more capable of independent thinking than given credit for.

The remainder of your Yule Break is spent buried in swaths of parchments and tomes with the occasional migraine from James’ antics. A cavernous pit materialized in your chest as you seemed to gradually wither away from stress, mind carouseling around the plethora of O.W.L. exams you needed to study for.

On the penultimate day before you, James, and Sirius were due to return to Hogwarts, a familiar black-banded owl came fluttering to your bedroom window. Clambering around the strewn leaflets of paper and open textbooks on your floor, you gaily greet the owl with a wide grin, gently grasping at the letter between its beak.

“It’s always nice to see you, Belenus.” You coo at the perceptive bird.

Cracking your window open further, you muffle an amused huff as the owl teeters through, resting straightly on your windowsill as it examines the disarray of your room.

“Er, it’s been a long day.” You wave in elaboration, not perturbed by the near judgemental look that flashes across the bird’s eyes. “Did Reggie ask you to wait for my reply? The lack of patience in that boy, I swear.”

Sitting down at your dimly-lit desk, you carefully unfurl the letter with trembling hands, heart skipping at the sight of the boy’s penmanship.

Dear Y/N,

I hope that everything is well for you. It is a shame that we are not able to convene before the end of break, however, I will give you your gift when we get back to the castle. I hope that Sirius is not giving you too much trouble, mother and father were never able to control his rambunctious behavior. However, he strangely settles after a cup of peppermint tea (his favorite brand is Lady Bramble’s).

I know you are brimming with anxiety from our last conversation, and for that, I deeply apologize. You will be pleased to know that I have given it much thought as per my promise to you, and I think we should talk more about it when we get back. I have not yet made any permanent decisions.

I have much to tell you after break. I miss you dearly.

R.A.B

You suppress a smile at the last few words, head feeling light with unadulterated joy. Threading together inklings of composure, you sit up straight and begin to draft your response, fingers unsteady with shreds of nervousness.

Reggie,

The week has been long and difficult without you, I must admit. I hope you are faring better than me with your homework (I fear that I may not make it). James and Sirius pulled me aside a few days ago to advise me against remaining friends with you. It is growing dire, Reg. I don’t want to sour this exchange by rehashing our last conversation, but I want you to know that even though my love and loyalty for you runs deep, I am unwavering in my stance against You-Know-Who.

If you are giving me my gift in person, I suppose I will do the same. As for the tea, thank you for the idea. Perhaps, I can test it on James to see if their uncanny likeness extends to calming agents as well.

Delighted to hear from you, I miss you so much.

Y/N

Once you reread the passage with attentive eyes, you nod once to yourself and prepare your wax seal. Weaving around the flush of work on your rug, you carefully give Belenus your letter.

“Give him my regards, will you?” You whisper, running your index finger along the owl’s head. The creature tilts its head before shuffling through your window again, taking flight in the blink of an eye.

Just as you begin to fall into a peaceful lull, elbows propped against your windowsill, a thunderous knock against your door has you nearly falling into the pane of glass.

“Y/N! Come outside with us!” Sirius’ shouts bleed through the thick wood as if it were made of thin air, and you roll your eyes sky high, grateful that your mother was out shopping and not napping.

“Hold your horses!” You yell back, scurrying over to fling your door open, heart still stuttering in its beats at the clamorous interruption.

As you crack open your door with an unimpressed look, you’re met with Sirius’ shit-eating grin and a highly entertained James holding a pile of plastic-wrapped goodies. Your brother juggles the crinkling jumble before he balances one in his hand, flashing it around as he practically vibrates on the spot.

“What’s that saying again, patience is virtue?” You mumble sarcastically.

Sirius shakes his head and waves you off, “Being virtuous is boring.”

“Right. Where did you get all of these from anyway?” You question breathlessly, reaching forward to snag one of the items from James’ arms.

Plecky’s Triple Ruby Ice Cream. The bulky square is icy to the touch, the packaging’s lurid colors buzzing against your eyes as Sirius begins to impatiently tug you down the hallway.

“No time to explain, we have to eat all of these before mum and dad get home.” James offhandedly hums, marching behind you and Sirius as you pace down the stairs.

“I hate you both, do you guys not have to study for your N.E.W.T exams?” You huff, batting at Sirius when he squeezes your shoulders.

James lets out a hearty chuckle at your words and Sirius clicks his tongue goodheartedly before whispering to you, “Nope! Moony and Lils are going to help us after break.”

You sigh into the air, hands limply flying up as you mutter lightly, “I don’t understand how they put up with you both, honestly.”

James bounds forwards past you both, flinging himself through the open door and into the pool of sunlight as he calls back, “We’re both extremely loveable. Now, I bet I can eat more of these than you!”

The next time you feel any semblance of peace is the day you return to Hogwarts, school work long forgotten about when you hurry to meet with Regulus in the astronomy tower. You had practically inhaled your dinner, leg bouncing with uninhibited anticipation the moment you locked eyes with your devastatingly pretty friend.

Once you’re situated atop the staircase, you quickly survey the open room for the boy, eyes dancing across the atrium when you find that you’re alone. The stars begin to peek through the canvas of the sky, thinning streams of clouds drifting away as the mottles of luminous spheres grow in number.

The wind whistles sharply as it bats against the aged stones of the castle walls, providing a steady white noise as you wait patiently against one of the many iron railings. Only a few moments after you grow comfortable in your spot, you hear the faint padding of footsteps ascending towards you.

Regulus’ eyes widen imperceptibly when they land on your lax figure, his body jolting to hurriedly close in on yours, “You got here early. Are you not cold?”

The boy reaches for your hand, humming when he finds your fingertips cold to the touch. Shaking your head, you deftly wrap your arms around him as you mumble into his ear, “It’s so good to see you, Reggie.”

Regulus’ arms find themselves around your waist as he reciprocates your hug, nuzzling against your neck as he lets out a low hum. Your relationship was not clearly defined by any title, nor was it barred by any conventional lines, and for the most part, you wouldn’t exactly say it was platonic in nature.

However, affection was limited to hugs and handholding, the situation between your families and the state of the political sphere too convoluted for anything beyond that.

“How was your break, love?” He asks with a soft voice, fingers ghosting against your hips as his arms loosen so he can crane back to look at you.

You smile and drop your head onto his shoulder, “It was good. Though, Sirius got a bit ill yesterday.”

“Oh?” Regulus’ voice edges on concern, but he can decipher the amused hint in your tone to know it isn’t worthy of unease.

“We ate a load of ice cream the day before, and Sirius is weak to bets.” You answer, not missing the light chuckle that Regulus releases.

A few beats of peaceful silence ensues before Regulus detangles himself from you, eyes searching your face as conflict flickers through his eyes. A heavy burden seems to weigh against his shoulders as he huffs out a sigh too considerable for someone so young.

“What’s on your mind, Reg?” You mumble, hands dancing up to rest upon his taut shoulders.

Regulus frowns minutely before he throws his head to the side and indulges, “I won’t last much longer.”

“Pardon? Helga, are you alright?” Your eyes are blown wide as you try to catch the boy’s eyes. “Regulus, don’t dance around this, tell me what the hell you’re saying.”

Regulus’ shoulders give a shake as he swallows a dry laugh, facing you again with serious eyes, “Sirius had the right idea from the start, and I was too blind to see that I should have packed and ran for the hills, too.”

Shock blisters across your mind as you reel back to process the information, mouth drawn into a small gape as you assess the boy’s expression. “What’s with the sudden change? I mean not that I hate it, frankly, I quite like this, but you were still uncertain just days ago.”

Regulus mulls over your question for a few moments, hands moving to encircle your arms as he muses, “I’ve been corresponding with my Uncle Alphie since the start of break, and he was able to give me a rather impartial crash course of everything. From then, I just had to pick up the pieces stripped away and build on the bare bones…” His words taper off as his mouth furls into a small frown.

“Love, you’re going to give me a hernia from all this roundabout talking.” You jokingly reprimand, eyebrows raising as Regulus nervously cracks his neck.

“My parents are not good people, and I’ve seen those that Bellatrix surrounds herself with–” the word death eaters was notably eschewed, “and, well, it all seems like drivel now. Besides, I don’t want to fight on any side of any battle if I have to lose you. Your letter was a pretty jarring wake up call.” He finishes, his hands now unconsciously moving you closer to him.

“Well, fuck.” You whisper into the air, mouth curling into a content smile as Regulus relaxes. “I didn’t want to lose you either, and I’m glad that I don’t have to. We’ll figure something out, but I won’t ever let you step foot back in that house ever again.” You promise with a firm voice.

Regulus nods and his eyes shine with conviction, the promise quelling the storms of doubt in his bones, and erasing the wedge between you both.

“Can I do something?” Regulus whispers, eyes capturing yours with an entrancing glimmer.

“As long as it's not throwing me over this railing, then yes.” You whisper back coyly.

Regulus chuckles, face now inches away from yours as he shakes his head, “Never.”

As the little promise escapes into the air, Regulus tugs you into him, lips finding your own as he pours every inkling of passion and love coursing through his veins into his ministrations. Your hand tangles in his curls as he continues to heatedly kiss you, the silent push-and-pull between you both now long forgotten.

Humming against his lips, you give a small tug to his hair before you pull back with a shaky breath, “There’s no going back, Reg.”

“Good.” His words are hushed as he places his forehead on yours, “You’re my only constant. Not a bloody thing in this world I’d rather do than be with you.”

“Is this the gift you were talking about?” You mumble, suppressing the tsunami of heat threatening to dissolve your self-restraint as you peer at the breathless boy.

“No, but forget about it for now.” He hums, “I hope you don’t have anywhere to be, I intend on keeping you here until curfew, love.”

You laugh lightly and run your thumb across his cheek, “Bloody troublesome, you are. I can see the resemblance between you and Sirius now.”

“Please don’t bring my brother up while I’m trying to love you.” Regulus huffs, swallowing your next retort with his lips as he dives back in to claim your undivided attention again.

Luckily, you both made it back to your dorms before curfew came to nip at your tangled figures in a slew of detention slips and reprimands. The shift in your relationship was noticeable, but it did little to hinder your day-to-day routine, the both of you still trembling under the weight of your studies.

It was the Friday of your first week back when James and Sirius bounded towards your hunched figure, your hands littered with inky streaks and eyes squinting painfully at your textbooks. The library upheld a faint degree of chatter, and you were itching to track down Regulus (the boy was likely off at Quidditch practice).

“Heya, kiddo!” Sirius beams, slinking his way over with a respectable amount of carelessness as a few students side-eye him. James is beside him, hands in pocket, sporting a pitiful frown.

“What’s up? And what’s with the frown?” You muse, stretching your back as they both pull out the chairs across from you.

Sirius snickers and leans over to obnoxiously whisper to you, “Lily gave him a good scolding earlier.”

“Sorry to miss it. What’d you do? We all know it was your fault.” You perk an eyebrow up at your brother, refusing to back down even as he throws his hands up with a flabbergasted look.

“Well–er…” Sirius trails off, mouth agape as you could practically see his brain stuttering in its hollow glory.

James sends a resounding kick to the boy, and shakes his head as he turns to you, “Nothing, just a disagreement about a certain Slytherin.”

“Severus?” You inquire, lips tugging into a frown at the thought of your (reluctant) Potions tutor.

Sirius huffs at the mention of the boy and clicks his tongue, “No, not Sniv–”

“Finish that remark and I will maim you, dear boy.” You narrow your eyes, quill pointed threateningly in his direction.

Sirius throws his hands up in surrender and opts to shuffle one of your open books over to him, eyes running along the words with vague interest. James’ eyebrows furrow and he seems to be debating on saying something when you continue your prodding, “So not Severus. Don’t tell me… Were you both arguing about Reggie?”

“What? No!” James refutes, head shaking furiously as irritation stews in your gut.

“Don’t lie to me, you don’t care about any Slytherins other than Reggie and Severus. But why the hell were you talking about my social life, again?” You huff, arms crossing as you see Sirius tensely peek up from his reading.

James sputters for a moment before he breathes in deeply, a stern expression overtaking his face as he straightens his posture, “Lily agrees that I should be more… open minded about your friendship with him–”

You perk up and throw your hands into the air, “See!”

James puts a hand up and shoots you a small look, “However, I am your brother, and it’s in your best interest to distance yourself from him.”

“My best interest, or yours?” You ask with narrowed eyes, beginning to pack up your supplies. “James, we can’t keep having this conversation. Why don’t you try sitting the both of us down and having a completely reasonable, civil conversation with us for once?”

“Well–” He begins, a frown pressing down on his features.

You shake your head and huff, “No more excuses. Either you put on your big boy pants and try to understand where I’m coming from, or you can continue to mope, but if you choose the latter, don’t even think about approaching me until graduation.”

Without another word, you sling your bag over your shoulder and march away, ignoring Sirius’ calls after you, your textbook still in his hands. As you storm through the winding corridors, evading the swaths of students milling around, you set your sights on the Quidditch Pitch.

The sun escapes into the stacks of pillowy clouds as you round the field, giving you an opportunity to peer up into the skies and track down Regulus, a pleased hum escaping your throat as you see the team begin to descend from the air.

Shifting your weight from leg-to-leg, you wait patiently as Regulus hurries to break away from the circle of Slytherin players, nodding distractedly at Rosier. A few moments later, Regulus strides over to you with a flickering grin, eyes alight with lingering endorphins and excitement.

“Love, what are you doing here?” He breathes out, dropping a small kiss to your cheek as he maneuvers his broom to his left hand, leaving his right hand to brush his curls away from his face.

Beaming at the boy, you hum, “Just wanted to see you. And perhaps talk to you about something.”

Regulus tilts his head and nods agreeably, “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m thinking about telling my parents about us, and maybe you can ask your Uncle Alphard about y’know… leaving your house?” You mutter, fingers twitching with nervousness as a look of consideration passes through Regulus’ eyes.

“Well, I don’t mind your parents knowing, but I also don’t mind them not knowing. I don’t want you to get into any trouble,” He confesses, rolling his arm back to stretch his sore shoulders. “As for my situation, I think my uncle would be willing to help me get emancipated. I don’t want to intrude in his home though, my mother would probably blow it up if I stayed there.”

“So don’t.” You hurriedly say.

He rubs your arm as he hums, “Don’t?”

“Don’t go to your Uncle’s. Stay with us.” You mumble, eyes pleading with him.

“Love–” He starts, eyebrows drawn together.

A resounding voice echoes from across the pitch before he can finish, diverting both of your attention away from one another, “Hey, Black! Don’t dawdle! Avery said he wants you here for strategy!”

“Go ahead.” You whisper, patting Regulus’ arm with a reassuring smile as you begin to back away.

“Hey,” He whispers back, stepping forward to grab your hand with a fatigued frown, “I love you.”

“I love you too, we’ll talk later, yeah?” You muse, lips furling upward as you squeeze his hand in farewell.

You linger ankle-deep in the damp grass for a few more moments, watching as Regulus disappears into the distance with one last glance over his shoulder.

Almost like a robot being rewound, you spin on your heel and march back to the castle, mind racing with threads of words to send to your parents.

Once in your dorm, you immediately launch yourself on your bed, head craning down for indistinguishable reels of minutes, occasionally stopping mid-sentence to ponder on your next thoughts. When you lift your quill up from the parchment with finality, your eyes dart from the paper to your window, squinting with a light bristle as painful clouds of blue mull in your vision, the lighting in the room now too dim for comfortable writing and reading.

As the sky grows gloomier, the wisps of lingering clouds withdraw into invisibility and you’re left to race against time as you fold up the finished letter to your parents.

Dear Mum & Dad,

I hope that you are both well! Please be sure to get lots of rest! Also, may we stock up on Lady Bramble’s peppermint tea?

Rest assured, I am studying well. James and Sirius are as well (surprisingly).

I was wondering if I could ask for a very large favor that would require the utmost discretion…

To be direct, Regulus and I are together, and he needs to find sanctuary away from his parents. His uncle is willing to aid him with the legal processes of the matter, but he has nowhere to turn to for the summer breaks.

I know this is a lot to ask, and I also know it isn’t ideal (for a multitude of reasons), but I will be forever grateful for even the slightest bit of deliberation. Please get back to me as soon as you can. Also, please don’t tell James.

Your favorite child,

Y/N

The spiral of waiting threatened to tip you over the verge of complete impulsivity, one that would lead to you exposing your relationship prematurely and the subsequent Regulus-hunting that would ensue on your brother’s part.

It had only been a couple of days since you sent off the letter to your parents, and at first you had been suspicious that your brother had somehow found out. After your disagreement with him in the library, he had been strangely distant, only occasionally giving you long, indistinguishable looks.

Your sudden withdrawal from your brother and his circle spurred deep concern from your friends, and especially from Regulus, who managed to subtly bring up the development during every conversation you had with him.

“Are you nervous?” You ask with a small frown, watching Regulus fiddle with his pot of ink.

The boy shakes his head and flicks the ebony glass, “Not really. Rosier has been keeping an eye out on their new strategies and formations.” Regulus finally looks up and leans across the table toward you, “You’re coming to watch, right?”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you hum lightly, “When have I ever missed one of your games?”

“Right… and you’ll cheer for us?” His eyes run along your face as you furrow your eyebrows.

“Yes… like I always do. Are we playing twenty questions now, love?” You huff out with a breathy laugh, intrigue only swelling higher when Regulus says nothing and gives you a small, uneasy grin. “Okay, what’s up? You’re looking at me the way I look at Severus when I accidentally mince my cowbane instead of chopping it.”

“Poor Severus.” Regulus hums, eyes retracting into a sheen glaze as he reminisces on your ineptitude in Potions. “Anyway, it’s just… we’re playing Gryffindor.” He continues, mouth parting slightly when you squint at him.

“Yes, Regulus, I know. Are you alright, dear?” You enunciate with blatant concern, head tilting to survey the boy’s uncharacteristic apprehension.

He clears his throat softly and shrugs, “I’m alright, I just don’t want you to be put in a weird place because your brother is also playing.”

“Merlin, Regulus. So this is what you’re getting at.” You click your tongue with a small smile, reaching over to pat his hand, “Don’t stress yourself out, I always cheer for you.”

“Uh? Ouch.” A familiar voice echoes from your right, tearing through the little bubble of comfort you’ve established with Regulus.

Swiveling your head over to the interruption, you narrow your eyes at the perpetrator and huff a small Hello, James.

“Yeah, hi.” He blinks emphatically, “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Regulus flips his hand over and threads his fingers with yours as you direct your full attention to James, “About cheering for Regulus? Well, I’m not.”

James holds up a hand and sighs, “Okay, that’s a whole different discussion to be had. But I’m not here to argue. Sirius and I,” James leans to the side and gestures, but when he meets nothing but dusty air, he chokes on his spit and fully turns around, “Sirius?”

You and Regulus exchange a concerned glance as James continues to talk to one of the bookshelves, “Sirius, what are you doing?”

A fragile silence collects in the air as the three of you seem to share a collective perplexion, all waiting with bated breath. Regulus runs a hand through his hair as he frowns at James, likely questioning the boy’s sanity.

Finally, Sirius’ broad figure emerges from behind a bookshelf, eyes wide with sheepishness as he makes eye contact with you and Regulus. “Hey, guys.”

“Sirius.” Regulus greets with a stiff nod, fingers tightening against yours.

“Why were you behind a bookshelf?” You hum, wrestling down an amused smile as James presses Sirius with a similar questioning look.

Sirius chuckles dryly and walks over to your table, sitting on the edge as he slides a book toward you, “I was waiting. I honestly thought you’d hex Prongs to next Yule.”

“Smart. What’s this?” You pick up the tome, exhaling loudly once you see it’s the book that you left in Sirius’ possession after you stormed away days prior.

Sirius taps his fingers against the table and gives an exaggerated nod to James, throwing his arm towards an empty chair as your brother shuffles awkwardly on the sidelines.

“Right.” James muses, hurrying to take a seat as Sirius slides over to make room. “We’re here because we wanted to talk to you.” He chews on his bottom lip and glances at Regulus, “The both of you.”

Regulus nods and looks to you for confirmation before sitting up, “We’re listening.”

“Well, it’s just that… you can’t be that bad.” James says, rubbing his shoulder as he nods at Regulus.

Regulus rubs his thumb along your hand as he coughs out a laugh, “Uh, thanks. You too?”

“And if it’s true that you’re… changing, then Sirius and I are very happy at the end of the day.” James finishes, now more confident as Sirius reaffirms his statement with his own light hum. Sirius rubs a hand down his mouth as he seems to debate on what to say to his brother, eyes flickering between Regulus and the far wall.

“Well, I’m glad then.” Regulus adds, shooting you a relieved smile.

Sirius clears his throat and paces towards Regulus, clapping his hand on the boy’s shoulder as his voice thickens with emotion, “I’m really relieved, Reggie.”

“Yeah, me too. It will be different now.” Regulus promises with a whisper, smiling up at his brother with resolution.

As Regulus and Sirius have their little moment, James knocks his shoe against yours to grab your attention. “Here. This came with my mail today. Don’t worry, I didn’t peek or anything.”

Quirking an eyebrow up, you slowly reach forward as James extends an envelope to you, eyes brimming with curiosity as he surveys you. “From Mum and Dad?” You murmur rhetorically, getting an affirming grunt from James in return.

Ripping open the thick paper, you deftly extract the folded letter with coiled anxiety, head beginning to feel heavy as you anticipate the letter’s contents. Unfurling the crisp pages, your eyes run over the passage of ink, sinking into concentration as everything fades into the backdrop of your mind.

Y/N,

You should finish the rest of your other teas first, however, I bought a few tins of the peppermint tea as they were on sale.

I cannot say I am surprised by the development of your relationship with Regulus, you and James were always attached to the Black brothers since youth. We are not able to house the boy comfortably for the sake of safety, it is entirely too unpredictable to have both runaway heirs under one roof. However, your father and I discussed the matter and we have decided that Regulus may be safe at Godric’s Hollow for the summer. The plot is untraceable and not widely known about outside of our family. We will send along a portkey for him to take near the end of the school year.

Your father is expecting an explanation when we see you next.

Please look out for your brother.

Your father and I love you lots, dear.

With love,

Mum

A cold pin of disbelief rocks through you for a few moments before blind elation envelopes it and has you sighing into the air. Dropping the letter down, you smile widely and practically fly over the table, grabbing at Regulus’ tie. The boy darts his eyes to you in alarm before his eyes light up at the joy written across your expression, “Love?”

“You’re going away for the summer.” You whisper enigmatically, a grin stretching at your lips when Regulus’ eyes widen further.

“I am?”

Nodding, you lean forward and press your lips against his, “My parents gave the okay.”

Regulus laughs brightly and pushes up from his seat, cupping your face as he reciprocates your kiss. You both continue to exchange affection as Sirius and James drift off to the side, disgruntled and looking anywhere but at you both.

Amidst running your hands into Regulus’ curls, you vaguely hear James muttering under his breath.

“Sirius, you better go wrench your brother away before I make you an only child.”

masterlist

#regulus black #regulus black imagine #regulus x reader #regulus black x reader #regulus black fluff #regulus black angst #regulus black scenario #the noble house of black #harry potter imagine #harry potter series #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #regulus black x you #marauders era

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doormatty3 · 4 months

Text

Ocean Eyes: Chapter 1 (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary:

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You]

The ocean has always fascinated you - the ebb and flow of its water, the marine life in the sea and the wild and untamed beauty it exudes. Your attempts to explain this fascination have always fallen short. But when you meet Orm at the seaside one rainy day you find, that he just understands. You offer to show him around since he is not from the city. And you are intrigued by his rather strange quirks and his regal demeanour. After all, how could you not? When his eyes mirror the ocean itself, deep and incredibly blue. OR: You impress Orm with the surface world and he impresses you with his Atlantean cock

Wordcount: 4134

A/N: This is the first chapter for a (probably) 4-5 chapter fic

Also: Our boy Orm deserves some love so this happened.

Normally, you actually like water; after all, it’s an integral part of your life as a marine biologist.

You’ve spent countless hours immersed in the briny depths, studying the mysteries that lie beneath the surface. In the embrace of the watery depths, you’ve unravelled the secrets of hidden ecosystems, marvelled at the kaleidoscope of marine life, and witnessed the symbiotic dance between predator and prey. The ebb and flow of tides, the rhythmic movement of ocean waves – these are the elements that typically elicit admiration and wonder from you.

However, this affection for water does not extend to rain, especially when it chooses to make an unannounced entrance when you’re out for a walk along the seaside.

As the heavens open up unexpectedly, you find yourself caught off guard, the rhythmic pitter-patter of raindrops on the sand disrupts the usual symphony of your thoughts. A muttered curse slips through your lips, a reflexive response to the inconvenience of precipitation, and you hastily reach for your umbrella.

The once-clear sky, a former blue sphere, now cloaks itself in shades of grey, as you struggle with the umbrella, desperately attempting to shield yourself from the sudden downpour threatening to soak you through.

“Thank god,” you mutter under your breath when you finally manage to open the umbrella before being drenched.

As you trudge along the wet sands, your now open umbrella in hand, the lack of shelter becomes painfully apparent. The vast openness of the seaside, which had promised freedom and expansiveness, now offers no refuge from the relentless rain.

The sea, once a source of inspiration, now seems indifferent to your plight, its waves crashing rhythmically as if mocking the irony of a marine biologist seeking escape from the rain.

Amidst the relentless downpour, your attention is drawn to a solitary figure at the edge of the beach. Despite the bad weather and the onslaught of rain, the man remains unwavering.

His gaze is steadfastly directed towards the open expanse of the ocean.

Even from afar you can tell that he’s completely soaked, his blonde hair clings stubbornly to his head, and his clothes adhere to his form like a second skin.

Intrigued by the enigmatic scene, you find yourself pausing in your own battle against the weather, momentarily captivated by the man’s unwavering focus. The rhythmic cadence of the rain seems to fade into the background as you observe the drenched stranger.

Curiosity propels you towards him, each step accompanied by the squelching sound of wet sand beneath your shoes.

Instinctively, you move closer to the man on the edge of the beach, extending the canopy of your umbrella to encompass both of you.

He turns around, surprise evident in his expression, as if awakening from a deep reverie. It becomes clear that your approach went unnoticed, his focus entirely absorbed by the vastness of the open ocean. The sudden shelter you provide seems to bring him back to the present moment.

As your gaze flickers over him, you find yourself inadvertently appreciating the details of his appearance. His smooth skin contrasts with a well-groomed stubble, and his piercing blue eyes hold a hint of depth, perhaps mirroring the expanse of the sea he was lost in moments ago. Expressive eyebrows, a straight nose, and pink lips contribute to an overall attractiveness that stands out even amidst the dampness and the downpour - perhaps the rain even intensified this as your eyes follow the path of a raindrop as it traverses his forehead and nose, eventually dripping from the tip.

Despite the adverse weather, it’s evident that he takes care of himself. The rain reveals the contours of a muscular physique beneath his soaked clothes. A defined chest, broad shoulders, and sculpted arms speak of a physicality that has weathered more than just the current storm.

A quiet “thank you” escapes his lips, accompanied by the subtle curve of a smile that plays on them. As he holds your gaze, his blue eyes reveal more than words convey. There’s an intensity in his look, a depth that suggests the weight of unspoken thoughts resting behind those expressive eyes.

As he breaks the gaze and turns back to the open sea, his presence lingers, all-consuming, and you find yourself unable to simply walk away. Instead, you remain rooted in your spot, holding the umbrella over both of you.

The rhythmic rise and fall of the waves draws your attention, each wave pooling onto the smooth surface of the sand before dispersing like foam. The ocean, in its relentless dance, momentarily recalls its waters, leaving behind a glistening trail of wet sand in its wake.

As you stand there, sheltered under the umbrella, the tableau before you becomes a canvas of contrasts – the vast expanse of the open sea, the ephemeral beauty of the waves, and the tangible presence of the stranger beside you. The sound of raindrops on the umbrella becomes a quiet rhythm, harmonizing with the natural symphony of the seaside.

It really has been ages since you allowed yourself to simply take in the beauty of the ocean and breathe. The thoughts of work, responsibilities, and the hustle of daily life seem to dissolve, rendered insignificant in the face of the vast, timeless expanse of the open sea.

Under the shared umbrella, the ceaseless rhythm of the waves becomes a soothing lullaby, and the salty tang of the sea air fills your lungs with a refreshing breath. The worries and stresses that usually occupy your mind are momentarily eclipsed by the sheer tranquillity of the moment.

With each inhale, you absorb the invigorating sea breeze, and with each exhale, you release any lingering tension. The rain, which was once an inconvenience, now feels like a gentle cleansing, washing away the mental clutter that often accompanies the demands of everyday life.

Normally, your beach walks are just a way to clear your head with familiar surroundings but nothing more than that. So you sift through your thoughts and you ponder the possibility of having seen the man before but his regal demeanour and striking looks leave no trace in your recollections.

Breaking the comfortable silence, you voice your curiosity, “I haven’t seen you here before…” He turns to you, fixing his intense gaze on your face, awaiting your words. “Are you from here?” you inquire.

A subtle smile graces his lips, a fleeting acknowledgement of your question. His hand glides over his chin, tracing the stubble that accentuates his features. Your gaze follows the motion, noting the details - the thickness of his hands, the length of his fingers, and the neatly trimmed nails.

“No,” he begins, and as if sensing your curiosity, he offers a bit more insight, “I’m from far away. I’m… just passing through.”

Despite the cryptic nature of his words, you find yourself captivated by the mysterious charm he exudes. His subtlety and intensity draw you in, leaving you with a desire to unravel the layers behind those enigmatic blue eyes.

“Well then, it’s nice to meet you!” you express with a genuine smile. Taking the initiative, you extend a hand in introduction.

In response to your greeting, he graces you with a full-blown, toothy smile that illuminates his face. His eyes sparkle, reminiscent of sunlight dancing on water, and the skin around his eyes crinkles with the warmth of the expression.

You… want to see that more often, you think. You’d like to be the reason for that infectious smile, to be the reason behind the sparkle in his eyes, and to cast away the haunted look that seems to linger within their depths.

“Happy to make your acquaintance,” he responds, his hand enveloping yours with a firm grasp. As his long fingers curl around yours, a subtle current of electricity prickles at the point of contact, and you find yourself missing his touch when he drops your hand.

“I’m Orm,” he introduces himself.

“Orm,” you test the pronunciation of his name, and you catch the flicker of his eyes as they briefly lower to your lips.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name,” you remark, your curiosity piqued.

In response, he shrugs, a somewhat sheepish expression crossing his features. “As I said, I am not from here,” he adds.

“If you ever need a tour guide, let me know,” you offer, extending a friendly invitation. His eyebrows raise in response, and you catch a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “I know a few nice places… some even provide a better view of the ocean.”

As a gust of wind swirls around you, the dampness of your clothes coupled with the cold air sends a shiver down your spine, and goosebumps emerge on your skin. The sudden chill causes you to freeze, the contrast between the warmth of the moment shared under the umbrella and the elements outside becoming palpable.

In contrast, you observe Orm, still drenched but seemingly unaffected by the cold.

The offer to be his tour guide hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, a subtle fear creeps in. Was it too forward? Does he wish to cut the conversation short, politely concealing any desire to decline?

A sense of relief washes over you as Orm’s response breaks the brief tension.

“That would be nice,” he says, his eyes straying back to the expanse of the ocean as if lost in thought.

The soft pitter-patter of the rain envelops you both in a cocoon, creating a serene backdrop to the moment. Despite the logical inclination to seek shelter and escape the rain, something within you resists the notion of leaving. A peculiar reluctance binds you to the spot as if an invisible force tethers you to Orm’s calming presence.

Standing beside him, you feel a sense of grounding and tranquillity it’s a sensation that you haven’t experienced before - well, if you’re honest with yourself, you have felt it before. It’s the same feeling you get near or in the ocean.

Maybe it’s his eyes. His deep, blue eyes seem to hold all the mysteries of the sea, mirroring the tranquil rhythm of the rain and the timeless expanse of the ocean.

____

A few days later you see him again and you find yourself back at the same spot.

Today, the weather is vastly different - there’s no rain, and the sun graces the scene with its warm glow.

As you approach the familiar location, the memories of the previous meeting flicker in your mind. You wonder how Orm will look in the bright sunlight - he had already been a vision when completely drenched.

When he comes into view, you find that he’s even more striking than before,

He is clad in a basic black shirt and matching slacks, the fabric sits snugly on his broad frame, accentuating the contours of his muscular body. The sunlight enhances the contrast, casting a play of shadows that dance along the lines of his thick body.

The blonde hair, now dry and therefore lighter in the sun, is neatly combed back, reflecting the sunlight like strands of golden thread, creating an almost ethereal aura around him.

His gaze is fixed on the sea again. With his head held high and arms folded behind his back, there’s a regal air about him.

“Orm! Hey,” you greet him, genuine warmth in your voice as you approach, happy to see him again. As he turns around to face you, there’s a radiant smile on his lips.

The sunlight adds a gleam to his features as he returns your greeting.

“So, what do you want to see?” you ask Orm, eager to tailor the experience to his preferences. “Have anything in mind?”

He responds with a gracious simplicity, “No, I leave that in your capable hands.”

You can’t help but feel a subtle warmth creeping across your cheeks because he really is rather sweet and charming.

So you clear your throat before speaking, “I promised you some nice places to see the ocean, so let’s do that.”

With a subtle gesture, you signal it’s time to leave, and you start walking with Orm following closely behind. As you set the pace, you observe him adjusting his strides to match yours, a small yet thoughtful gesture that makes your heart beat faster. It’s rare that a guy just does that without having to be asked.

He slips his hands into his pockets, seemingly unsure of what to do with them.

“We’re gonna have to drive a bit,” you mention, looking up at Orm, and tugging your lip between your teeth, “Is that fine for you?”

You gesture towards your small blue car and watch Orm’s gaze as his eyes shift from you to the car before nodding slowly, “Sure.”

As you lead the way, Orm walks behind you, and you notice a hesitation in his movements when you reach the car. He doesn’t do anything until you open your door, watching your movements. To you, he looks a bit lost, as if he’s unsure about how to open the door. But you disregard that thought, it is probably just your mind playing tricks.

As you both get into the car, the doors closing with a reassuring thud, you settle into your respective seats.

“If you need more leg space, feel free to adjust the seat,” you offer, considering he is taller than you.

He meets your gaze with those striking blue eyes before nodding, “Sure, but I’ll be fine.”

Orm’s gaze wanders around your car, and you notice his eyes catching on the seashell chain dangling from the rearview mirror. His hand raises, and his fingers delicately trace over the hard exteriors of the shells. The gesture carries a certain intimacy as if he’s unravelling the stories embedded in each shell.

The image in your mind briefly diverges, envisioning those deliberate touches on your skin with the same care and intensity. You swallow dryly as you try to remember why you’re here - to show him some spots, to be his friend, not to fuck him.

As you start the car, the engine humming to life, you catch what seems like a subtle jump in the corner of your eyes from Orm. However, you dismiss it, attributing it to a trick of the mind or perhaps a momentary startle that often accompanies the sudden sounds of a car coming to life.

“Do you mind fastening your seatbelt?” you ask, your concern for safety evident in the request. Sure, he’s muscular and fit but in case of an accident that won’t help him much sadly.

Orm nods in acknowledgement, and his eyes meet yours as you secure your seatbelt before mirroring the motion.

He is rather strange.

_____

The drive unfolds in a quiet contentment, accompanied by the soft murmur of the radio playing music at a low volume. Orm, for the most part, gazes out of the window, seemingly lost in thought or captivated by the passing scenery. As the sunlight plays on his face, casting gentle shadows, you find yourself fascinated by the play of light, accentuating his features.

At some point you start humming, caught in the melody of a song and even sing quietly along. After a few beats you notice that Orm’s gaze is fixed on you now, an intensive look in his blue eyes as he studies you with a depth that makes you feel vulnerable.

As you become aware of it, a blush creeps across your cheeks. To your surprise, Orm responds with one of those sweet smiles before breaking eye contact and redirecting his attention to the scenery outside the window again.

“We’re here,” you announce to Orm, bringing the car to a stop. The engine’s hum fades as you turn it off, and you both step out.

You brought him to a medium-high cliff site.

The cliff, standing just a few feet above the ocean, is characterised by weathered stones, carved over time by the relentless touch of the water. It’s not a typical beach setting, but the raw beauty of the scene never fails to captivate you.

Below, the waves crash with a rhythmic symphony, their energy echoing against the stone walls in a natural percussion. Each surge sends sprays of seawater into the air, catching the sunlight like a cascade of liquid diamonds before dissipating into the sea breeze.

The sun, hanging high in the sky, bathes the entire scene in a warm, golden glow. It casts its warm embrace upon the waves, creating a dazzling display as the light interplays with the water that reflects the brilliance of the sun. The golden rays catch in the frothy crests of the wave.

A small path, worn by time and exploration, winds its way down the cliffside side presumably leading to a beach down below.

In the stillness of this remote haven, away from the clamour of the city and the watchful eyes of the world, the air carries a purity that is both invigorating and calming. As you close your eyes and inhale deeply, the crisp, clean air fills your lungs, creating a sense of tranquillity that is uniquely serene.

As you stand there a realization dawns upon you - you’ve never brought someone here before. Yet, as you stand there with Orm, the decision to share this sacred place with him feels instinctive, as if his presence harmonizes with the essence of the surroundings.

Deep within your consciousness, a recognition stirs, an understanding that his eyes mirror the tranquil beauty of this place. There’s an unspoken connection between him and the sea, a sentiment that resonates with the rugged cliffs, crashing waves, and untamed nature surrounding you both. It’s as if his very presence is an extension of the landscape - a kindred spirit to the ocean.

“Beautiful,” Orm’s quiet voice interrupts your reverie, prompting you to turn around and face him, finding that his gaze is fixed on you, not on the breathtaking scenery that surrounds you.

“Yeah, I come here to think - I just feel like I can breathe here,” you share, offering a glimpse into the personal significance this place holds for you.

As you speak, you notice that Orm’s eyes remain glued to your form, not wandering to the sea. His intense gaze seems to linger on you as if captivated by something beyond the natural beauty of the landscape. You feel your heartbeat in your whole body and electricity coursing through your skin.

Orm steps closer his intense blue eyes never leaving yours. With a gentle touch, he lifts a wayward lock of hair that has fallen in front of your face and tucks it behind your ear.

The gesture is tender, a subtle connection that transcends words. The proximity and the soft touch create a moment suspended in time, the crashing waves and the untouched beauty of the surroundings fading into the background.

Your breath catches in your throat, momentarily you forget to breathe as you feel his warm skin on your face.

You can’t help but notice the vibrant glow in Orm’s eyes. The sunlight catches in the deep blue hues, and they seem to come alive with a vivid intensity. His gaze, vibrant and open, mirrors the brilliance of the sun that bathes the surroundings.

At that moment, his eyes are a reflection of the untamed beauty of the sea, filled with depths and mysteries that seem to echo the vastness of the ocean.

Orm’s proximity brings with it an enveloping scent that fills the air around you. It’s a fragrance that captures the essence of the sea, a symphony of the breeze, sea salt, and the unmistakable aroma of the beach.

As you breathe in, the familiar notes of the sea transport you to the shoreline, the rhythmic sounds of the waves echoing in your mind.

It is as if he’s water itself.

In the silence, with Orm’s hand gently cradling the side of your face, you notice the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. In a moment of courage, you decide to close the distance.

With a small, bold step on your toes, you reach for his lips, closing the gap between you and Orm. The kiss is a gentle meeting, a fusion of shared connection and unspoken emotions. The crashing waves and the sea breeze seem to hold their breath as if nature itself is pausing to witness this intimate exchange beneath the warm glow of the sun.

Orm’s response is immediate and enveloping. Instead of pulling back, he wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you even closer against his frame. The kiss deepens a mutual exchange that goes beyond words. The embrace is strong and intimate as if the crashing waves below have found their echo in the connection between you and Orm.

Time seems to slow, and the kiss becomes a shared moment suspended in the tapestry of the cliffside sanctuary. The scent of the sea, the warmth of the sunlight, and the touch of his lips create a harmonious symphony, blending with the timeless rhythm of the waves below.

You feel Orm’s stubble against your skin. The subtle scratch of his facial hair becomes a grounding force, connecting you to the present moment, reminding you that this is happening.

It is as if your entire being comes alive.

Every touch, every nuance of the kiss, is a vibrant testament to the living, breathing connection between you and Orm.

Breathless, you break the kiss, and as you look at Orm, he appears positively ravishing. The sea breeze plays with his tousled hair, and the sunlight casts a golden glow upon his features.

His eyes reflect a sense of wonder as if the shared moment was something extraordinary and beyond expectation. And then, with a captivating smile, he pulls back slightly, tracing his tongue over his bottom lip, savouring the taste of the kiss.

“That was unexpected,” Orm says, his intense gaze unwavering as he keeps his eyes firmly on you.

“Unwelcome?” you question, searching for reassurance.

“No, I didn’t say that. It was most welcome,” he assures you with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting a genuine appreciation for the shared moment.

“It’s different from what I thought or expected,” Orm mumbles quietly, his expression turning thoughtful, the words almost lost in the hushed tone.

“What?” you ask, a hint of confusion in your voice, urging him to repeat himself since you didn’t quite catch what he was saying.

“Oh, nothing,” Orm dismisses with a subtle smile, as if choosing to keep certain thoughts close to himself and not to elaborate further.

You lose your train of thought as soon as Orm reaches for your hand, giving it a subtle, reassuring squeeze, telling you without words that you shouldn’t worry about it.

Orm gently releases your hand, his attention drawn to the scenic surroundings. Taking a few steps forward, he moves closer to the edge of the cliff, where he peers down at the undulating water below.

In the soft glow of the sunlight, his features come alive, it paints him with warmth, casting a radiant glow that enhances every detail. The light highlights the slight tousle of his hair as the wind delicately weaves through it.

Orm turns to you again, his eyes reflecting a deep appreciation for the surroundings. “I can understand why you come to this place,” he says, his voice carrying a sincere tone. “It really is something special.“

You nod in agreement and offer a warm smile. “Are you hungry?” you ask because the rumble in your own stomach suggests it’s time for a meal. Orm seems to ponder for a moment, considering the idea, and then he agrees with a subtle nod.

Curiosity piqued, you ask, “What do you feel like eating?”

His response is straightforward. “I’d like a burger with fries and a Guinness.”

A grin spreads across your face as you reply, “I know a spot that serves good burgers. I’m not too sure about the Guinness though - but I’m sure you’ll find something.”

Orm nods in satisfaction and you suggest getting back to the car.

“Lead the way, oh guide of tours,” Orm says, his choice of words eliciting a snort from you at the quirky phrasing.

As you both settle into the car, you take the driver’s seat and start the engine.

Without many words, Orm carefully places a hand on your thigh.

Initially, it’s just the featherlight touch of his fingertips, but when he senses your ease, he gently lays his hand down, spreading his fingers to cover as much space as possible.

The warmth of his touch seeps through the fabric of your jeans, a searing heat that radiates from your leg, enveloping your entire body. Turning your head towards him, you find his gaze fixed on you and in response, you offer a warm smile.

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giuliettagaltieri · 3 months

Text

Break the Bondage

Pairing: Presidential Candidate!Coriolanus Snow x Strategist!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Paramour

Warning: elitism, vulnerability, mentions of death

Word Count: 3083

4 of 6

Having to deal with the Capitol politicians and businessmen was something that Coriolanus Snow had come to tolerate as they were his people. They were of the same kind and same background.

Interacting with the District politicians was something else. They are too desperate to please, quick to take offense, and they had to introduce their entire family line to Coriolanus and you. A lot of them claimed that their great great great grandfather’s cousin was born in the Capitol, or something of the same narrative.

It gets worse and worse as you reach the Districts farthest from the Capitol. The mayor’s mother in District 9 even insisted that you look so much like her late husband’s sister. She claims them to be old money. Coriolanus and you had to humor her of course.

You are just glad that your tour is coming to an end.

“You look tense.” You spoke flatly as you read the success of your tour in the papers.

Coriolanus looks away from the dim passing scenery of the train window to study you. “I do not.” To make it look believable that he was indeed, not tense, he walks over to the refreshment table to pour you both a cup of tea.

“Thank you.” You say silently as he gently places the cup on your table. He sits himself next to you. You grin at this as you continue to scan the article. Try as he might to act aloof, he is an openbook to you. Coriolanus sips his tea in silence. He opted to sit shoulder to shoulder with you, well…shoulder to head, as he is less likely to have his face read by you, that is what he tells himself.

“Listen to this.” You giggle and he hums in response. “Coriolanus Snow and Y/N Swansworth stuns Panem with their reinvention of modern campaigning by touring the Districts, reshaping the silhouette of a typical Capitol couple in such a way that has the people breaking into rapturous applause. They really are the faces of our future leaders.” You inhale deeply, eyes closing and Coriolanus breaks into a smile,

“A triumph.” He comments.

“Future leaders, Coriolanus.” You squeeze his arm in your excitement. “Future leaders.”

He places his hand on your thigh as he reads the spare newspaper. You eye his hand, heart pounding. You have felt for him once, those feelings remain until today, well kept and incheck but still there. You wonder what he is planning but you choose to drop it when he does not speak again.

For some time, you just keep each other company until a rap on your compartment door steals your attention.

“Mister Snow, sir. Miss Swansworth. We are approaching District 12.” The peacekeeper stationed outside informs you.

You let out a sigh, folding the paper as you finish what is left of your tea.

“Are you ready for this, Mister Snow?” You ask coyly.

A grim expression crosses his face but he nods.

The weather is not as welcoming compared to the other districts. It was raining very hard, with thunderbolts startling you every now and then.

It was very muddy, you hesitated if you should step out of the train. Reporters were already waiting for you, suited with heavy coats to protect their tools of trade. It is a shame you cannot hear their questions over the rain.

Coriolanus stood tall next to you, smiling at them and you wave, the both of you looking like every regal Capitol couple would.

The mayor comes, chased by a skinny boy with an enormous umbrella. He looks like he could be swept by the winds any second.

“Apologies, Mister Snow, Miss!” He yells, his face dripping with the rain. “The weather is apparently not on our side today!”

Coriolanus’ hardened eyes look at the man for a moment before he leans closer to the door, his hair swayed by the strong wind. “No matter! We are glad to be here in your District!”

The mayor steps back and the reporters click their cameras at you.

“Coriolanus.” You groaned quietly. “My shoes.”

He hides a quick mocking laugh and looks you up and down. He noses your cheek and you almost stop him with all the cameras in front of you.

“We can’t stay here, they’re waiting.” He whispers.

“But-”

Coriolanus cuts you off by stepping out of the train and into the mud, dirtying his socks and pristine shoes. A large umbrella carried by another kid is placed over him, but his crimson suit was already dampened, making it look closer to a maroon.

You smile at the camera to hide your uneasiness. You have been doing so well, you are in the final District, you cannot ruin this now. You no longer have an injured foot to use as an excuse. With a deep breath, you step closer to the door. You look Coriolanus in the eyes. He’s waiting, closely watching you. And of course, you do not want to disappoint him.

Gently, you put your foot out and you shiver at the droplets that wet your skin. Before your shoes can land on the mud, Coriolanus scoops you in his arms, making you yelp in surprise.

He adjusts you in his chest, pulling you closer and you shrink to yourself, eyes wide as you look at him in surprise and confusion.

“Ohh!” The mayor claps his hands at Coriolanus’ chivalry and the reporters follow suit.

You wanted to wipe that smirk playing in Coriolanus’ lips. He’s always so unpredictable, you hate it.

But you hate yourself even more when a hiccup escapes you, your hands cover your lips but with you in his arms, it was hard for Coriolanus to miss and a rumble of chuckles from his chest had your face erupting to a flush.

The mayors lead you to his home, the peacekeepers close behind you as the reporters follow suit.

You clear your throat, jolting every now and then as you hiccup, it was most embarrassing. Especially when the people of District 12 were lining up in the streets. Most of them did not have anything to protect them from the harsh rain.

“Coriolanus, the people.” You say sadly and he only hums, a charismatic smile plastered to his lips.

“Smile for them, sweetheart.” He tells you. “Or if that is too much, smile for me.” He glances at you quickly but his eyes are set forward before you can respond.

And you do your best to smile. You meet their anxious gazes with your warm ones. Yours hold an unspoken promise, something that you will probably not fulfill, but boosting their morale is what matters most. A little girl was clinging to her mother and she waves at you. So young, her dress was patched and she was shivering.

“Coriolanus, stop.”

The man pauses and your entourage follows suit.

“Is something the matter, my dear?” He asks, a perfect blonde brow raised at you.

You ignore how your heart jumps at the endearment.

“Uhm.” You hesitate now but you look at the little girl again. “You can put me down.”

His frown deepens. “The mud.”

You look down and shake your head. “It is not as bad as I thought. And you can always just buy me new ones.” You smile at him as you stroke his bicep to coax him into agreeing with you.

Coriolanus looks at you, as if a battle is happening behind those blue eyes but you did not back down. He sighs and gently places you on the ground. There was a soft squelch and you tried your hardest not to grimace.

“Shall we get going then?” He asks but you place a hand on his chest.

“Wait.” You smile at him and you start to unbutton your coat and drape it on your arm.

The frown in his face gets more and more deeper that you had to place a gentle kiss in his jaw to calm him.

You know that he does not feel for you the same way you do for him but there is this possessiveness in him that makes you want to fool yourself into believing that he has affection for you.

When you try to get closer to the people, his firm hand was quick to grip your forearm, but you give him a pleading look, one you know he will not refuse.

Coriolanus nods at the peacekeepers who keep their ground as he accompanies you closer to the little girl.

“Hello. I saw you waving.” You smile and the little girl returns your smile shyly. “What’s your name?”

She looks at her mother and you frown slightly.

“Uhm…I am so sorry, Miss Swansworth. She-she cannot hear. Her name is Lily.”

“Oh.” Your face drops and Coriolanus places a hand on your back, as if to provide a form of comfort to you. “Well.” You drape your coat around Lily’s shoulders, she gives you the brightest smile and her hands make these gestures that you do not understand.

“She says ‘thank you’.” The mother sniffles. “And that it’s warm.”

You return their smiles.

Coriolanus plucks a pristine white rose from his boutonnière to slip behind Lily’s hair.

The little girl looks at her mother with uncontained excitement.

You wave at Lily one last time, smiling at her and the people around before letting Coriolanus guide you back in the safety of your entourage.

After that endearing encounter, the visit was proving itself more and more disappointing.

The reporters asked the same questions as every other reporter did in the other Districts.

How you find their District.

How fared your travels.

It was getting difficult to paraphrase your answers.

Despite the exaggerated generosity of the mayor and his family, Coriolanus just could not relax around him. He is being diplomatic by entertaining the man but you cannot miss the ticks of his jaw, or the absence of willingness in his words. As if he was trying to bring every conversation to a deadend. Not that the man or his family notices, they were just happy to have someone from the Capitol in their home.

With all the jabbering of the mayor about his small achievements, the food turned cold and Coriolanus’ temper did not seem to ease.

“Darling.” You spoke to Coriolanus, head leaning to his shoulder when the mayor busies himself with pouring more wine. “It is getting awfully late.”

Coriolanus looks you in the eye and quickly recognizes the boredom in them. “Indeed.” You straighten up and a satisfied smile spreads on your lips. “Mister mayor.” Coriolanus begins formally and the man looks up, his face red from all the drinking. “Miss Swansworth and I. We had a long journey. We would love to accept your family’s hospitality and rest in the room you have prepared for us.”

The mayor starts speaking to you about the house as he leads the way, how it is made of the finest wood, and the number of people who built it. You chose not to speak so as to not embarrass the man after he felt so proud of this…well, he calls it a house. He would be a laughing stock if anyone else in the Capitol heard it.

Coriolanus’ answers became shorter and shorter and he even cannot hide the frown on his brows by the time he closes the door to the mayor’s face.

Unlike in the other Districts, Coriolanus and you had to share a room here in 12. They just assumed that it is acceptable to share a bed despite being unwedded. Most couples practice here at 12, apparently.

“It’s freezing.” You rub your arms as you look around the place. “And it smells like…like mothballs.”

Coriolanus collapses on the bed, his posture stooped for once as his arms rests on his thighs.

“I’m sorry.”

You stop in examining the aged walls upon hearing him say it. You purse your lips before turning to look at him, trying to look impassive.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats. “You did not have to suffer this kind of discomfort with me.”

Without a word, you walk over to Coriolanus and sit on the bed next to him.

“I dragged you here. Made you live like the Districts. You…you almost-” He shakes his head, hand massaging his brows. He is a mess and he is breaking apart.

You sigh and lie on your back on the bed, your feet still dangling on the edge of the bed.

“You did not drag me here.” You chuckle softly. “I volunteered to come.”

“Still-”

“Listen to me, Coriolanus-”

“Corio.” He corrects you, making you smile.

“Corio.” You say playfully. “I made my own decision to come here with you. Please do not forget that you can never make me do something that I do not want to do.”

He laughs breathily and copies your position. You both stare at the wooden ceiling in silence.

“The truth is. I enjoyed this tour.” You started fiddling with your fingers. “I got to spend time with you, saw parts of you that you refused to show anybody, this trip helped me get to know you better.”

A scoff from him surprises you. “You don’t know anything about me.” He sits up and before you can reach for him, he sits on the floor instead. He leans his head on the bed and you watch him curiously.

“This place kills people.” He says.

You sit up slowly, just observing, trying to understand where this behavior is coming from.

“It was the games that messed with my head. Opened my eyes.” He continues. “But this place. This place makes you do things that would haunt you forever.” He props a knee and rests an arm there. “The hanging tree, the poverty, the fucking mud. And the people.” He cups his jaw as if trying to calm himself.

Gently, you slide down next to him, watching the dull walls as you feel his warmth next to you.

“The tribute. I thought we loved each other. I truly believed we did.”

Your eyes dart to your skirt, chest tightening with every passing moment of him talking about her. You wanted to get out of there.

“But it wasn’t really love, was it?” He sneers.

Coriolanus receives only silence as you are afraid your voice might break if you uttered a word.

“Love is not selfish.” He places a hand atop yours that was resting on the floor. “It is about sacrifices but never about giving up who you are or what you could be.” His grip tightens on your hand. “I don’t have to choose between the life I was preparing myself for and love.” He raises your hand and presses a kiss to it.

“Corio.” You say gently but he shakes his head.

“I don’t deserve you.” He spoke against your skin and your heart breaks, listening to him talk so vulnerably. “You are too good. And I am wicked.”

You are silent as you watch him cradle your hand against his face. He is crying. The sobs were contained but the wetness of his cheek against your hand was unmistakable.

“I am not a saint.” You say quietly.

“You are not a murderer either.” He challenges. “Your tribute from the games was just a kid. The Mayor’s daughter had her back turned when I pulled the trigger. Sejanus cried for his mother when he hanged from the gallows. My hands are stained.”

A ringing silence follows after he shares to you a secret he worked very hard to bury, taking care of loose ends that cost him his peace of slumber for years.

You would hate him now. He is certain of it.

Just like Lucy Gray and Tigris, you would run away. Away from him.

“That may be true.” You agree as your other hand cups his cheek. “But if I am still to offer my heart for those sinful bloodstained hands to hold, I am no better, am I?”

His crystal orbs rise to meet your glassy ones.

“Even after all I have done?”

You smile painfully, heart clenching with irrevocable affections. “You can burn this world to the ground and I would still want you.”

He stares at you in confusion, as if wanting to pick your mind apart, to understand why and how you can feel for him so immensely when he has done nothing but cause you pain.

“Why?”

“I told you, I am not a saint.” You pull him by the nape to look at him closely, your noses now brushing. “You seem to forget easily. I am a Swansworth.” You flash him a haughty smile. “And I do not scare easily.”

It felt utterly liberating to be free of such burden and be wrapped up in you now. He laughs in disbelief, pausing to look you in the eye before his gaze drops to your inviting lips.

Coriolanus believes that if he does not kiss you right then, it would be a crime. Cruelest yet from all he has committed.

You smile at him from underneath those lashes of yours and Coriolanus Snow does not really have the control to pull away now.

His hooded eyes meet yours and he reveled in how yours flutter close as he inches closer. Your lips brush the slightest bit and a surge of electricity burns your lips that made him pull you close to a bruising kiss.

That kiss ended the push and pull between you.

You are his woman, not only for show this time.

When you returned to the Capitol, Coriolanus might as well have brought you with him straight to the presidential palace. Even president Ravenstil welcomed your return. It made the two of you feel like you are heroes of some sorts.

In some way, perhaps you were. Any talks of rebellion from the outskirts of Panem went silent as your successful tour brought great happiness and a false sense of belongingness to the public.

Poor Hilarius Heavensbee, nothing he did after your tour made it to the headlines.

You and Coriolanus will get what is yours. You swear it by your fathers’ grave.

The day of the election finally came. Neither Coriolanus nor you slept that night. Your hand was trapped in his hold the entire night and you did not complain as his warmth, despite being clammy from his nerves, soothes your anxieties.

The results came on the break of dawn.

Snow landed on top.

Hunt for Glory

#coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #young coriolanus snow #tbosas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader #hunt for glory

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guessm0del · 9 months

Text

Little Red Riding Hood

Chapter One - Kill Or Be Killed

Summary: Living a life of caution for as long as she can remember, Y/N has never stayed too long in one place, always moving from town to town in hopes to hide her identity. With the Hunters Moon coming, she knows she must be extra careful, as the local culture resides heavily in the hunting of her kind. One night, when a cloaked figure unveils her secret and narrowly escapes, Y/N finds herself in a desperate situation: kill or be killed. With no face to go by, she must now search through the townsfolk before the stranger can spread the truth about her. But the task proves more than difficult when she realises her only lead is a long, crimson cloak.

Genre: horror, fantasy, little red riding hood retelling

Warnings: cursing, stalking, death, heavy smut (later included)

Pairing: redridinghood!Jungwon x femwolf! reader

next chapter

A branch snaps. Something is wrong.

I whirl around, casting quick glances to every corner of the forest. A rehearsal, like I’d done every Hunters Moon as a girl.

A confirmation.

A silence.

A knowing.

Someone is watching.

My eyes scan the turret of green abyss before me, checking every leaf, every branch with eager uniformity.

I scrutinise each passing spec, scanning the forest for something out of place, something that doesn’t belong. But even in the dead of night the forest remains regal with grace, beckoning me to try and find its flaw.

When I finally conclude that my hiding acquaintance must be some stumbling stag, I go to turn back to the river and notice a flicker of motion to my left.

I stop dead in my tracks.

Something that doesn’t belong.

Got you.

I race across the clearing, diving head first into the forest without hesitation, but this stranger is smart, and from what I can gather, eager to hide his identity as I watch his red cloak shift fervently through the trees, concealing any hint of skin as he swiftly dodges all obstacles in his path. Suddenly, he trips over a fallen branch and lands face first on the ground. He groans in pain and I slow in my pace, preparing to make haste of my short advantage.

But before I can do anything of the sort, he’s hoisting himself up, grabbing at his foot that’s stuck firm in the mud.

Thank the heavens for yesterdays rain.

I go to resume in my advances, but he’s gone before I can pounce, yanking his foot from the ground and making another run for it.

No.

The voice in my head rings clear, precise with its set instruction.

He mustn’t get away.

In one last eager attempt to catch him, I grab a rock nearby and aim it towards his leg, praying that the gods will spare me this one small decency, at least for today.

The figure doesn’t bother brushing the filth off his cloak, making a priority of his escape as he runs off. A smart one. I find myself admiring his resolve to live, and almost feel bad as I watch the heavy stone smash into his left leg, causing him to stumble down the hill at an awkward position. I follow, but at a slower pace this time.

He could be armed.

And yes, just as I had hoped, the stranger awaits at the bottom of the hill, rocking side to side as he groans in agony and clutches at his knee. He makes no attempt to get up, although as I inch closer, I realise my throw was so strong he mightn’t be able to. He stops groaning as I approach. He’s getting ready.

My hand slowly grabs at the small dagger tucked into my side, drawing it out in one sly motion. I feel him stiffen as I straddle his lap, much too clouded in pain to react as I grab his hands and prepare to tie them above his head. “Sneaky thing, aren’t you?” I remark, breathing hard between laughs as I lower my dagger just above his adams apple. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before following me into the woods, boy.” His face remains covered by his crimson cloak, but I feel him breathing hard beneath it. I go to push it aside, but he abruptly pushes forward, banging his head against mine with fever.

I stumble backwards, moaning in pain. “You insolent little-” But it’s too late, the figure is already sprinting away into the dark forest. My hands find their way to my forehead, cradling what I know will be bruised tomorrow. Scrambling to my feet, I watch from afar as he pushes on, occasionally stopping to quickly relieve some pressure off his leg. I curse, kicking a nearby clump of dirt and sending it soaring through the trees. Brushing the dirt off my hair, I feel a surge of rage boil beneath my skin as I watch him cautiously cast quick glances behind him. The darkness makes it impossible for me to see his features clearly from this distance.

Dammit, I’m screwed.

I pace back and forth, considering running after him, but it’s too late, he’s too far gone now. He’s morphed into a small crimson spec now, limping as he makes a b-line for town.

Dammit.

Helena is going to be livid. But it doesn’t matter, because deep down I know she’s not the one I’m worried about.

The townspeople are.

Not to mention Mary, Jiwon and.…Heeseung. They’ll never speak to me again.

No, worse. They’ll push for my execution.

Wait. A tinge of cold air licks at my arm as I stop dead in my tracks. Red drops paint the dirt beneath me. My gaze follows the winding trail down the path.

Blood.

The fool has left me a trail.

I kneel to the ground, coating a finger in the red liquid and bringing it to my nose. His scent fills my senses, and I feel myself letting go. The blood smells sweet, like warm sugar and cinnamon. I bet it would it taste even better. My breath catches in my throat as I struggle to repress the small voice gnawing at my sanity. Go on. With shaky hands, I bring the blood to my lips, letting my mouth stop just short of contact. Let go. A howl echoes from across the forest. I snap out of my trance and shake my head, regaining my thoughts. I don’t have time for this. Deep breaths, in and out.

I am in control.

I turn back to the small village in the distance, the same town I have called home for the last 8 months. Avion. A quaint little village hustled in the centre of a frozen paradise, home to over 200 people…

and tonight, one of them is going to die.

_____________________________________________

Authors Note:

lmao can I just say thank you to all of yous that picked Jungwon in my previous poll cause gawd dayum I couldn’t stop picturing him as red riding hood and i suddenly regretted putting up a poll for ppl to choose LMAO 🤣

anyway ik this chapter was short but dw it was only short cause it was more like a prologue than an actual chapter lol

anyway peace out, me has got 2 go and start working on chapter two💀 bye bye

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buckychristwrites · 10 months

Text

Could This Be | Chap. Eleven | j.t.

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: One minute, you're single and working for AFC Richmond as the team's medic. The next minute, you're in a fake relationship with the team's handsome striker who you know next to nothing about.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Discussions of Previous Emotional & Physical Domestic Violence. Cussing. Fake Dating

A/N: And that's a wrap! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all enjoy!!! Also YES i changed Beard's wedding to fit my needs SUE ME

Masterlist | Could This Be Masterlist | Main Blog

The only thing you could hear was Keeley’s sobs as she leaned on your shoulder.

“Keeley, please!” You whispered, trying hard not to laugh through your own tears. “You’re being so loud!”

“I just love weddin’s so much,” She choked out as she tried to wipe her face without smearing her makeup.

The backdrop of the wedding was stunning, in the beautiful garden of a Scottish castle with the sunset painting the world from behind. Standing between Jamie and Keeley, you found yourself choking up during their hand written vows. Although, the sentimentality of it wore off after the eighth page of Beard’s. And that was only the halfway mark.

With the ceremony over, and the bride and groom off to take a quick set of pictures, everyone was filing inside to get to the reception.��

Hand in hand, you walked through the grass with Jamie, as Keeley was linked to Roy on the other side.

“Can we have a wedding here?” Keeley asked Roy, looking at him with a pout in her lip. His expression didn’t falter.

“No.”

Her lip poked out further.

“Why not?”

“Fuckin’ stupid to have a weddin’ outside in England. The risk of rain is too high,” He explained, in a logical way that made a lot of sense. Keeley considered this, although she still had the pout on her face.

“Where would you get married?” She asked, turning to you. You were taken aback by the question, the heat filling your cheeks and burning them from the inside out. Although you refused to look at him, you felt Jamie give your hand a squeeze.

“I don’t think I’d want a big wedding,” You admitted. “I’d be fine with the courthouse.”

“Really?” The shock in her voice was evident, her staring at you like you had said you’d like to get married in the mouth of a shark. She looked to Jamie. “What about you?”

His gaze fell to the grass, shaking his head before pointing at you with his free hand. “Whatever the lady says.”

It had been an awkward morning.

The hotel room that had been booked for you was the same hotel room that was booked for Jamie, as it was assumed that you two would’ve done that anyway. And, obviously, that meant that the room only had one bed. It was a regal room, decorated as if it were plucked out of Buckingham Palace and placed inside this castle for you to stay in. After a hearty debate on what to do. as there was no couch in the room that could properly accommodate a person, the two of you decided to just share the bed. Jamie on the left side, you on the right side. The two of you mumbled good night to each other before switching off the lights and turning to face the opposite walls. Which was fine and dandy.

Until you woke up pressed into Jamie’s bare chest, his arms wrapped around you. You had no recollection of moving, having definitely been on your own side when you went to bed the night prior. Was he shirtless when he went to bed? He must’ve been. It was like waking up from a dream to another one, your face against his skin and his chest rising and falling against yours. And for a long time, you allowed yourself to stay like that. It wasn’t scary. It wasn’t weird. It felt normal. Like you had been waking up this way for years and years.

It made you think of when you and him slept together. When he spent the night and left the following morning. He had woken up before you, and was out of bed by the time you awoke. Had this happened then, too?

Your eyes had snapped shut when he shifted, and for a brief moment, he seemed just as content as you. Then, suddenly, he was out of the bed so fast that you almost rolled off the mattress in stunned confusion. The exchange was brilliantly painful, as he apologised and rushed to the bathroom while you got yourself together and dressed before fleeing the room entirely.

The incident had completely shattered the groove the two of you had. Ever since, you had no idea how to act, and neither did he. All morning, you two stumbled around each other, as if you hadn’t been kissing and holding each other in public for about a month at this point. Maybe it was the fact that it was a moment in private, a thoughtless act in a place where there was no fear or rationale to fight through. Just two fake yet somehow real lovers, entwined.

“I can’t see you settlin’ for a courthouse,” Roy said, eyes narrowed at Jamie. “Jamie Tartt’s weddin’? In a fuckin’ courthouse?”

Jamie shrugged before saying, “I don’t think anything I do with her is settling.”

The butterflies in your stomach made you nauseous.

The interior of the castle was decorated so beautifully for the wedding. Fresh flowers were everywhere, filling the room with a lovely scent. Candles were everywhere, a stunning flicker against the setting sun that was shining through the windows. Against the wall were rows and rows of tables, filled to the brim with food. Your mouth began to water. The morning had been so hectic that you had forgotten to eat.

“I will die if I don’t get food soon,” You mumbled to Jamie as the two of you followed Keely and Roy to the assigned table.

“I think we have to wait,” Jamie responded, looking around. No one else even approached the buffet tables. It made your heart want to cry.

Jamie pulled out the chair for you at the table, allowing you to sit before taking the seat to your right. In the middle of the table were appetisers, a feature you weren’t expecting. Both Jamie and yourself immediately reached forward to grab a random assortment.

“Do you think we’re supposed to eat yet?” Keeley asked, looking around nervously to see if others were eating off the plates on their tables.

“I don’t fucking care,” You said before shoving a mini sandwich into your mouth.

“Oh fine,” She said, reaching for the plate of what looked like stuffed mushrooms. Jamie, at the same time, also reached for one.

“It’s got a weird smell to it,” Keeley remarked as she examined it.

“You could still like it,” You pointed out to her. “Maybe plug your nose before you eat it.” She stared at the stuffed mushroom sceptically before popping the whole thing in her mouth. Instantly, she shut her eyes.

“Oh, it’s fucking wonderful,” She exhaled. “You have to try one.”

Your fingers were on the cusp of grabbing one when Jamie grabbed your hand.

“Oi. Those have lobster in them.”

“Does it?” Keeley asked loudly before grabbing another one to examine it. Slowly lowering your arm back down to the table, Jamie still had a soft grasp on your wrist.

“Oh my god, it does!” She exclaimed, leaning forward. “I almost killed ya. I’m so sorry.”

Jamie rose from his seat, leaning towards you before saying, “I’m running to the toilet.” As he walked away, you watched him until he disappeared down a hallway.

“I’m so glad you two found each other,” Keeley said, and it was then that you noticed she had moved into his seat when you weren’t paying attention. As you turned your head towards her, your gaze lingered on the hallway he disappeared down for another moment before jumping back to her.

“I spent months during our relationship wishing he would look at me the way he looks at you.”

You smiled down at your lap.

“It’s not real,” You said without thinking. “None of it is real.” Keeley looked surprised at your sentiment briefly. She leaned forward, placing her hand over yours.

“Of course it’s real, babe,” She said softly. “Anyone can see how much he loves you, and how much you love him. And you should hear how he talks about ya when you’re not around.”

This made you look up. Opening your mouth to speak, you were interrupted by the music getting louder. It was time for the bride and groom to make their entrance. Just before they made their entrance, Jamie rushed in with his head down. Keeley spotted him just in time to switch back to her own seat.

You leaned towards Roy. “Aren’t you supposed to be up there too?”

“Fuck no. I hate this shit, and told Beard I wouldn’t do it.”

The room erupted in applause as Coach Beard and Jane made their entrance, dancing down the pathway in the middle of the room towards the table set just for them. It took you a second to realise that everyone around you had stood up, and you quickly shot out of your seat to join them. You heard a laugh from behind you, and you had to resist the urge to shoot Jamie a dirty look.

An announcement was made that the buffet was now open, and before you knew it, you were rushing over to join the line.

The options felt endless and chaotic, which, in fairness, really encapsulated Beard and Jane’s entire relationship quite nicely. There was pizza, pasta, chicken tenders, burgers, fries, a salad bar. If you thought of any sort of American cuisine, it was probably somewhere on that table.

“What’re ya grabbin’?” Jamie asked, leaning over your shoulder as you used a pair of tongs to pick up some fries.

“Probably everything,” You admitted, your stomach picking that exact moment to let out a loud rumble. As you set a few chicken tenders on the plate, Jamie reached over and grabbed a fry off your dish, plopping it in his mouth as yours fell agape.

“That was mine!” You whined. “Get your own!”

“Why would I do that when you’re doin’ it for me?” He asked, grabbing a tender from your dish and taking a bite. It was hard to feel genuinely offended when he was smiling at you the way he was.

“I’m gonna starve to death because of you,” You said, feigning the offence as best as you could. “Then you’ll feel really bad, won’t you?”

His laugh could be heard over the music, a symphony filling your ears that drowned out every other sound.

“Fine,” He said, putting some fries on his own plate. “I won’t deprive ya anymore, darlin’.”

“Thank fuck,” Roy said from behind him. “If I had to keep watchin’ this, I’d have to throw up on the bride.” A crinkle formed between your eyebrows.

“I don’t think you’d have to throw up right on the bride,” You pointed out. He shook his head.

“I would,” He declared. “You two would force me to.”

“Plenty of other places to vomit, I think,” Jamie added.

“And yet, it would be right on the bride. And after, I’d tell her it was because of the both of you.”

Once back at the table, you dug into your food without much conversation. You mainly spent the time looking around. For the most part, the wedding was smaller than you had imagined it to be. It was just the team, Jane’s family, and then a random assortment of people who they both knew.

The maid of honour rose from her seat, clearing her throat before bringing her mouth to the microphone.

“Here we go,” Jamie muttered, continuing to eat.

“Is it bad that I hate these speeches?” You whispered to him. “Like I’m here for the bride and groom… why do I care about what some other random person has to say about it?”

“It’s like, I don’t need their full story of how they know the couple, ‘cos I don’t care ‘bout them at all. They ain’t who I’m here for,” He mumbled in agreement.

“And then they’re trying so hard to say something thought provoking and profound…”

“Okay, sweetheart, you’re not the next Hemingway or some shit.”

“Exactly! I won’t be using your speech in my instagram captions anytime soon.”

Roy grunted from across the table and the both of you stopped talking. You continued to eat your food and didn’t listen to the speech that was given. The applause of the small crowd alerted you to the end, and you kindly set down your plate and joined in.

“Your turn?” Jamie asked, gesturing his fork towards Roy. To the surprise of both of you, Roy shook his head.

“No speech from me,” He said simply. Jamie and you exchanged a look before turning back to him.

“Not entering with everyone else is one thing,” You said, face scrunched in annoyance and confusion towards your friend. “But not doing the best man's speech? Roy, please.” But he simply shook his head, in lieu of words, before nodding behind you as the sound of the doors clicking open echoed through the hall. Everyone in the room turned in their seats, curious by the new entrance being made.

“Sorry I’m late.” The familiarity of the voice made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Your head snapped in Roy’s direction, who, in rare form, was smiling.

You turned back towards the door in time to see the former AFC Richmond Coach, Ted Lasso himself enter the room.

“Airport lost my luggage. Had to find a store that could get me a tux faster than lickity split.”

Coach Beard shrieked.

Half of the room was flying out of their seats, Jamie and Keeley included.

The entire AFC Richmond team surrounded Ted, loud cheers and shouts coming from their direction. He was laughing, giving each member a hand shake or- most commonly- a big hug. The excitement was contagious, the smile never waning from your face. Though you knew Ted as well, you stayed in your seat and watched the purifying scene in front of you. There would be chances to say hello later.

“You big fucking softie,” You said to Roy, turning back to face him. “You arranged this for them, didn’t you?”

“I would arrange anything to get out of givin’ a speech.” Despite what he said, the smile tugging at his lips gave the answer you were looking for.

Jamie was the last to hug Ted before the team all excitedly went back to their seats. As Jamie sat down, you noted him wiping tears from his eyes. Coach Beard was standing, but he never left the spot next to his new bride. Ted cleared his throat before turning back to his friend.

“Wrote a little somethin’ on the plane,” He continued, taking out a couple of pieces of paper out of his jacket pocket and unfolding them. “There are many perfect pairs in our world’s history. Peanut butter and jelly. McCartney and Lennon. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. And, at least in my world, these two have joined those ranks.” he looked around at the crowd wistfully. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, waiting to hear what he was going to say. “What a powerful love we’ve all gotten to witness, and now see come together.” He smiled, shaking his head. “It’s the kind of love we all wish we had.”

Subconsciously, you looked over at Jamie, only to find he was already looking at you.

“When I met our friend Coach Beard here, he was a lost vessel of a man, tryin’ to find his place in a broken society. Watchin’ his transformation into the loving, quiet, passionate man he is today is a privilege, and so is calling him my best friend.” Tears were streaming down Coach Beard’s face in bucketfuls. Ted gave another small head shake. If you looked close enough, you could see the tears forming in his eyes, as well. “He found Jane exactly when he was meant to, when he was ready to.”

Jamie took your hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze.

“I know that these two will be making each other happy for the rest of their lives. Playing chess without a board. Being silly and loud and weird in a way only they understand. And I hope we can all agree when I say I can’t wait to be there to see it.”

Your heart in your chest was thumping a million times a minute as you looked at Jamie, electricity shooting down your spine. His attention was back on Ted, eyes and cheeks wet.

“To end this out, I have a quote from one of the best romantic dramas to grace this Earth.” Ted took a deep breath before continuing. “‘I don't want to sound foolish, but remember love is what brought you here. And if you've trusted love this far, don't panic now. Trust it all the way.’” Ted gave a smile. “Congratulations to my friends, Beard and Jane.” A waiter walked up with a glass of champagne, handing it to him. “Thanks, bud.” He raised the glass in the air. “To a lifetime of being weird together.”

Everyone began cheering and applauding as they raised their glasses to Beard and Jane. Beard basically jumped over the table and ran into the arms of his friend. Seeing them together again made tears spring into your eyes.

“Fuck you, Roy,” You said as you dabbed at your eyes with a napkin.

“The fuck did I do?”

“If you had given the speech, I wouldn’t be crying right now.” He grunted.

“Actually, you should’ve heard what he had prepared before asking Ted,” Keeley said, shaking her head. “‘Bout bawled my eyes out.”

“Yeah,” Roy added. “You should be thankin’ me.”

“I’ll stick with telling you to fuck yourself.”

Ted returned the microphone to the DJ before making his way over. Roy stood and gave him a hug, the both of them giving the other a loving clap on the back. He leaned down and hugged Keeley, mumbling a greeting into her ear that you couldn’t hear over the start of the first dance.

“And here’s my favourite medic,” Ted said excitedly as he leaned down to hug you.

“My favourite former AFC Richmond coach,” You said as you hugged him back. He kissed your cheek before letting you go, a glowing smile on his face.

“I heard you’re finally making my man here settle down,” He said, clapping a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. A warmth filled your cheeks as you glanced at Jamie, the realisation hitting you that his hand was still holding yours.

“I think it’s him settling me down, honestly,” You told him. Ted chuckled.

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d hear about the old Jamie,” He said, shaking his head before turning towards the footballer. “I’m still so proud of the man you’ve become.”

Jamie’s eyes were welling up again as he looked up at his former coach.

“Couldn’t have gotten here without ya, Coach.” Ted shook his head.

“You were always destined for better. Can’t give me all the credit,” He said simply, giving Jamie’s shoulder one last squeeze and wandering off. When Jamie turned to face the table again, his hand was against his chest, and it stayed there for a long time before dropping down to his lap once more.

Once the first dance ended, the music switched to another slow song, the dance floor filling up with couples sharing a dance.

“Wanna dance with me?” Jamie asked, raising his eyebrows at you as he stood from his seat. You smiled, not speaking as you stood up with him.

Finding an empty corner on the dance floor, Jamie turned and took a step closer to you. Your lungs forced a deep exhale before you draped your arms over his shoulders, his hands on your hips as you and him began to sway to the music.

“Sorry ‘bout this mornin’,” He said sheepishly as he took a look around. “Just caught me off guard, is all.”

“It’s fine. Caught me off guard too,” You admitted. Nodding his head, he turned back to face you. The light was hitting his eyes in just the right way, adding a twinkle as he stared directly into yours.

“Dunno why it felt so weird,” He said, a furrow forming in his eyebrow. “Like, we’ve actually slept together, and yet wakin’ up like that tossed us, d’ya know what I mean?” You nodded, not saying anything for a while. You knew exactly why it felt weird. The dynamic was largely different before that night spent together. Feelings hadn’t been put on the table yet. There was one thing he was wrong about though.

“It rocked me,” You said in a distant tone as you stared off into the dancing crowd. “Us sleeping together.” A beat passed. “In more ways than one, I should say.” He laughed at your joke, despite continuing to look confused.

“How?”

Your eyes trailed back to look into his.

“It made this real,” You said, biting your cheek tersely before going on. “And it made me afraid… so afraid. That’s why… That’s why I said what I said before the last match.”

You were very aware in this moment of his hands on your hips, and his eyes searching your face.

“What are ya afraid of?” He asked, as if the question had been lingering in his mind for too long. You swallowed down the lump in your throat.

“That you’ll see right through me,” You said quietly. “And that’ll cause you to leave, eventually.” He leaned in slightly closer.

“Do ya wanna hear a secret?”

Confused, you nodded.

“I already see right through you,” He said so quietly that no one could overhear. “And that’s what’s been makin’ me stay.”

It felt like your brain was short circuiting. All you could do was stare at him, trying and failing to process what he said. The music stopped and the bride was getting ready to throw the bouquet, not that you noticed. Keeley ran over to grab your hand and drag you away from Jamie, who was smiling softly as you were pulled away. The two of you joined the group of women already lined up to fight for the bundle of flowers, and their supposed chance at marriage.

“Get ready!” Keeley said in a voice that suggested that she would spill blood in order to catch this bouquet. Taking a slight step away from her, you turned to the front just as the bride threw the bouquet. Without moving a muscle, in true romantic comedy fashion, the bouquet landed easily into your hands. If it hadn’t been so easy, maybe you wouldn’t have been so surprised. But Keeley still yelled out in excitement for you.

“YES BABE!” She shrieked, throwing your hand up in the air and spinning around towards Jamie. “Tartt! You’re next!”

Jamie’s face was beet red as he was being congratulated by the members of the team, who had all gathered to watch the bouquet toss. They grabbed him and shook his shoulders, or smacked his back playfully. His eyes landed on you, his smile wide, as your brain went right back to stalling out.

You stared at the flowers in your hand. It felt like something had just changed in your head. Something clicked. You took a look around, trying to see if anyone else was also feeling this way. But no. Why would they? It was just you. When your eyes found the flowers once more, you let out a staggered breath. A drip of sweat was running down your spine. When did it get so hot in here?

As the men gathered to do whatever Coach’s equivalent to the garter toss was, as Jane insisted that there would be no taking pieces of clothing off her body and throwing it into a crowd of men, you snuck out of the dance hall and made your way outside. Your lungs felt like you were stuck in a building on fire, desperate for oxygen.

The back garden felt like a maze as you walked along the pathways, surrounded by shrubbery and flowers. A set of steps lead down to more of the same. The whole area was well lit with lanterns, which you were grateful for.

A second set of steps lead to a field of grass, which ended with a large lake. In the middle was an island that had a giant tree, almost like a fairytale. Slipping out of your shoes and leaving them on the steps, you walked through the grass and towards the water. The grass felt amazing against your feet paired with the cool breeze kissing your skin. The flowers were still in your hands, held against your chest as if you were walking down the aisle yourself.

Overwhelmed was an understatement.

He found Jane exactly when he was meant to, when he was ready to.

‘I don't want to sound foolish, but remember love is what brought you here. And if you've trusted love this far, don't panic now. Trust it all the way.’

Was that why it happened the way it did? Was that why that one summer evening, at a house party in Keeley’s backyard, you were catapulted into the whirlwind fake romance that you didn’t ask for? Because you were ready to move on from the arsehole who broke you in more ways than one? You certainly didn’t feel ready at that time.

But you were now.

It hit you like a tsunami making contact with land.

It couldn’t wait another minute. There was no sense. A perfectly good man, who was kind, loving, and not a hurtful bone in his body was right there, waiting for you to decide that you were willing to put aside your hurt and pain to be with him. It felt so senseless. There was never going to be a perfect time. A time where you were perfectly mentally healthy and over your trauma. He knew of the ghosts of your past and the damage you had been dealt, and still loved you anyway.

Maybe you didn’t have to be completely over the mountain in order to let him in. Maybe that was the point. He wasn’t waiting for you at the peak. He wanted to help you get there.

“Oi! You alright?”

When you turned, Jamie was making his way through the grass towards you. Tangling from his hands were the shoes you had just taken off. “Not goin’ for a swim, are ya?”

You shook your head, breathing out a shaky laugh.

“Too cold for swimming, I think,” You replied. He stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

You swallowed hard.

“I’m ready.”

The moon shined off his face, so you could just make out the confusion filling his expression.

“To leave?” He asked. “We just got here-”

“No, Jamie,” You said firmly, taking a small step forward. His arms seemed to fall closer to his sides as he waited. You took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

Realisation fell over him, his eyebrows raising to his hairline as his mouth formed into an O shape. He took a step forward, appearing as if it was involuntary.

“What changed?” He set your shoes down onto the grass.

You glanced down at the flowers before looking back at him.

“Nothing.” Pause. “Everything.”

Carefully, he began to walk towards you, as if your mind would be changed by his speed. With every step, your heart beat faster, almost taking off out of your chest by the time he stopped directly in front of you.

“You better mean it, if you say it,” He said in a low voice, slightly quaking. “Don’t do me any favours-”

“I mean it,” You interrupted, shaking your head. “It wasn’t the wedding. Or me feeling lonely or some other dumb shit. It was me being tired of wasting time pretending like this isn’t real. Like I’m not stupid in love with you.” A tear fell down your cheek in a way that was annoying, but you kept going anyway. “I’m sorry for taking so long. I’m so sorry.”

His lips were crashing into yours before you had the chance to realise he was even leaning in. The bouquet fell to the ground. His left hand was holding your face tightly, as if he feared you would pull away, his right arm tight around your waist. While you had one hand tangled in his hair, the other had the collar of his shirt wrapped in a fist.

“I love ya,” He mumbled against your lips as he continued to kiss you.

“Say it again.”

He pulled away from you, giving you a look before bringing a kiss to your forehead.

“I love ya.”

A kiss to your temple.

“I love ya.”

A kiss to your other temple.

“I love ya.”

A kiss to your cheek.

“I love ya.”

A kiss to your other cheek.

“I love ya.”

A kiss to your nose.

He leaned in close to your face, his breath hot against your cheeks

“I love ya.”

Then he was kissing you again. The wind blew passed, but you already had a shiver shooting up your spine, making it hard to feel the cold in the air. He ran his hands up and down your arms, from the tops of your shoulders to the ends of your fingertips.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

He shrugged off his jacket, and was throwing it over your shoulders before the kiss had even ended.

“Fuckin’ freezin’, you are. Why didn’t you say somethin’?” He asked before pulling away. Laughing as he adjusted the jacket on you, he leaned back to admire how it looked. You shrugged, looking brightly at him.

“I didn’t notice,” You admitted. Because you hadn’t noticed. You were too wrapped up in his warmth.

“Alright, goofy, let’s go back inside.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as he lead you back towards the garden.

“Only if you dance with me again,” You told him, bumping your hip into yours.

He looked over at you, smile full and eyes wide, before saying, “For you, love, we can do whatever you want.”

And for the first time in your life, you knew without a doubt that as long as he was by your side, you would never have a want or beg for anything again.

TAGS

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#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #tedlassosource #ted lasso fanfiction

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abyssruler · 2 years

Text

archons ft. reincarnation

venti, zhongli, raiden ei x gn!reader

summary: you were dead—until you appeared again hundreds of years later, that same smile on your lips that made them fall for you centuries ago.

word count: 4.6k

note: first time posting my work on tumblr!

warning/s: spoilers for venti’s story quest and raiden shogun’s story quest act i & ii, angst, brief descriptions of past character death (reader)

part 2

VENTI

Venti’s fingers glide through the strings of his lyre, the perpetually gloomy weather exacerbating the melancholic undertone of his song.

“The outside world…” you muse, sitting beside your bard of a friend, watching the towering castle in the distance where your possessive god resides. “I wonder what it’s like.”

Small, melodic bells chime from your shoulder. You turn your head in order to face the wind spirit you call a friend. His little face is scrunched up, as if he’s regaling you tales of the scenery beyond Mondstadt. You don’t understand him, none of you do, but you indulge him with a smile anyway.

“Mhm. Oh, is that so? Yeah, I think so too. That seems lovely!” He bobs his head in agreement with your words, and you laugh at the adorable sight. You return your gaze to the castle by the distance, a wistful look in your eyes. “I’d like to see it one day. I bet the sky is so blue and the lands stretch on for miles and miles until you lose sight of the other end. The weather would be warmer too, because the sun would always be out.”

The little wind sprite lets out a tinkling sound. You don’t know what he’s trying to tell you, but you pretend that you do.

“Yeah. I wonder if the grass is greener outside of Mondstadt. It must be. There wouldn’t be constant rain over there so the plants won’t always be so damp and mushy. The sky must be full of birds, all of them just flying freely without a care in the world.”

Your bard of a friend listens quietly to your musings, now playing a softer song with his lyre. In contrast, your little spirit friend circles around your head, chiming something and pointing to the castle in the distance with his little hood.

For once, you think you understand what he’s trying to say. “Lord Decarabian, huh?” Something in you brews uncomfortably as you mention your god, so you try to lighten the atmosphere, “I don’t think he’ll agree even if we ask very nicely.”

Your little friend lets out a series of bell chimes that somehow lets you know what he thinks about your little joke. It’s only when Venti suddenly stops playing his lyre that the wind spirit quiets down.

You turn to him questioningly, finding him already looking at you with those blue eyes of his, always so bright despite being born in a perpetually gloomy city. There’s a contemplative frown on his face as he moves his gaze from you, to your little friend, to the castle in the center of the city.

Finally, he opens his mouth.

“Then let’s not ask,” he says, his eyes fixed on the looming castle. “He keeps his people in this city and forces us to call it freedom, but what is freedom if demanded of you by a god?”

“Venti…” you say in warning. Somehow, you get the feeling you’re not going to like what he’s about to say.

Somehow, you get the feeling you’re going to agree anyway.

He smiles at you and the wind sprite you call a friend, bright and optimistic. “I want to see the outside world too, so let’s fight to see it. Together.”

“Together,” you repeat, looking at him and your little friend. “A bard, a warrior, and a wind sprite. Sounds like the beginning of a long tale.” You gaze at the castle in the distance once more. “I wonder how it will end.”

Venti laughs. “It’ll be a happy ending. I’ll make sure of it.”

Bell chimes ring in the air as the small wind sprite circles the air in front of you, exclaiming his agreement to Venti’s words.

A thought occurs to you.

“Well, a tale isn’t complete if one of the main characters is nameless,” you say, offering your palm for him to rest in. Your little friend hops into it, sighing little happy bells.

A name. What name would suit him, you wonder. Looking up at the sky above, nothing sparks any inspiration. There’s only dark clouds holding the threat of rain. If you look closely enough, you think you can peek through those clouds and see something resembling the blue sky of the world outside. Wishful thinking, of course, the clouds in Mondstadt are thick enough to cover miles in the sky.

But if you squint an eye and tilt your head to the left, you think you can see a hint of a silhouette, something floating far above—

Then you avert your gaze back to your friend resting in the palm of your hands. A gust of wind blows past you. Maybe it’s premonition, or maybe you just wanted the best for him, but in that moment, you imagine that out of the three of you, it is this little spirit in your hands who will achieve the greatest of things.

A name pops up in your mind and begins to take root. “What do you think of the name Barbatos?”

He immediately zips up, twirling in the air in front of you and nuzzling your cheek affectionately. And just like that, the moment is broken, and he is back to being just your little friend.

“You like it, huh?” His answer comes in the form of a series of tinkling bells. You smile. “It’s a pretty name, isn’t it?”

✧

Two thousand and six hundred years later, the wind spirit turned archon stands on a raised platform, a lyre in hand and performing a song he hasn’t sung in five hundred years.

A bell chimes, signifying an entry to the door of the tavern, such an innocuous sound for the impending tragedy he is about to relive.

The last chord is strung. The crowd claps, disperses and thins. A lone figure makes their way to the front.

Someone clears their throat.

He looks up.

And suddenly he is back to that day millennia ago, just a little wind sprite tinkling bells in the palm of your hand. An apple for breakfast, lunch and dinner, your teasing remarks about how he isn’t going to be able to fly anymore if he keeps gaining weight. The song of the friend he embodies resonating with his soul.

How simple life had been, back when dreams of revolution and gods were just that: dreams.

Hushed talks of freedom between each round of song, the wistful look on your face as you mused how vast the outside world must be. Full of plains and lush grass, you imagined. And when Barbatos left the ruins of Old Mondstadt, one third of a whole, he made your dreams come true as he flattened mountains and brought warm winds to fend away the cold.

He only wished all three of you had been there to see it, instead of just him alone.

“What a lovely song! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you perform here in Angel’s Share before. What’s your name?” You smile at him, all soft and lovely with a hint of nostalgia in the corner of your eyes. As beautiful as the day he lost you.

He never realized how much he’d started to forget what you looked like until you appeared right in front of him, a ghost from two thousand years past.

Do you remember him? Do you miss him as much as he’s missed you? Will you forgive him for not letting go of the past, for taking on the appearance of your beloved friend? Have you been well? Do you have many friends? Any family?

Is there someone you hold dear to your heart already, someone who holds you close, who would never let you fight alone. Someone who won’t kneel helplessly as you died in their arms, smiling amidst the numbing pain from the gaping wound in your chest. Have you already found someone who will protect and care for you, because if not, then—

In this life, will you finally love him the way he loves you?

What’s your name?

His name, the name you gave him, is on the tip of his tongue. Barbatos, it’s a pretty name, isn’t it? And he was never able to tell you how much he agreed with you, how much he loved the name you gave him. He wants to tell you how he’s made Barbatos more than just a little wind spirit, wants to ask if you’re proud of him for achieving the freedom you once sought for—but most of all, he wants to tell you how much he loves you for giving him his name, his identity.

When the drinks become too much and his mind muddles the distinction between himself and his friend—is he Venti, or is it someone else?—he tries to remember you and the way his name rolled off your tongue. Barbatos. On his worst days, when everything becomes too much, when he tries to remember the way your voice sounded only to realize that he’s starting to forget, he says it to himself.

Barbatos.

It’s a pretty name, isn’t it?

And he smiles to himself and says yes out loud, and the other patrons will think he’s had too much to drink again, and he’ll shrug off their judging gazes and ignore the bartender’s disapproving look because finally, he remembers what you once sounded like as you spoke his name.

He wants to tell you how much you’ve done for him, even if you weren’t here with him.

But he bites back his tongue and puts on a well practiced smile, ignoring the twinge in his heart at the lack of recognition in your eyes.

“The name’s—” Barbatos “—Venti! And who might you be, oh beautiful stranger?”

The sound of your laughter soothes two thousand and six hundred years worth of pain within the span of a few seconds. He keeps the memory of it locked in his chest. It is ridiculous, the ease with which you burrow yourself back into his heart with just a laugh—though in hindsight, perhaps it isn’t so ridiculous after all. You never really left his heart even after thousands of years.

As your name falls from your lips, Venti decides it’s alright if you don’t remember him, that it’s alright if the name you call him now isn’t the name you gave him long ago.

Just being able to see you again is enough.

ZHONGLI

“I am thinking of retiring.”

You lean your elbows on the wooden railings, resting your face in the palm of your hands as you looked up at him. “Retiring? I don’t think Hu Tao would approve.”

“No, no,” he clarifies, “Not in Wangsheng Funeral. I have…another job that I wish to retire from.”

“You have two jobs, Zhongli? Never would have guessed with how relaxed you always are.” He cracks a faint smile at that.

“My other job is not very demanding of my time. Nevertheless, it holds an important role in Liyue.” The wind blows against him, his hair billowing in the breeze as he stood above the harbor. Somehow, you imagine him in white, a hood pulled over his head and a spear in his hand as he gazed down an imaginary foe in the sea.

The image leaves a strange feeling in you, so you quickly shake it away from your thoughts and focus on his earlier words.

“Are you some kind of big shot? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?! Here I was talking to you so casually—” Your eyes widen in realization. “Ah! You were undercover this whole time, weren’t you? Are you gonna report me to the Tianquan for disrespect—” You’re interrupted by the sound of Zhongli’s soft laughter.

He gazes at you with such soft amber eyes you’re almost half-inclined to believe it’s the sun playing tricks on you.

How mesmerizing. How familiar. You think you’ve seen this sight before, you just can’t put a finger when.

“My work is not that kind of work. It is…complicated, to say the least. You need not worry about any perceived disrespect, I don’t mind at all.”

Your shoulders slump in relief. “Oh, thank Rex Lapis. I thought I was about to face the wrath of the rock or something.”

He stills, hands clenching against the railings for the briefest of moments before relaxing. It goes unnoticed by you. “Wrath of the rock… I don’t believe I have spoken such words in your presence before.”

“Really?” You turn to him with furrowed brows. Now that you think about it, you don’t think he’s ever said that phrase before. How strange, where did it come from then? “Must’ve been something I read somewhere. You talk like an old man so much, Zhongli, I’m starting to confuse words from old books with your ramblings.”

Looking away, he stares past the railings and into the harbor below, something almost melancholic in his eyes. “Perhaps.”

“So,” you say to distract him from whatever caused that look to form in his eyes, “Are you really retiring?”

He looks at you, still with those sad, sad eyes that makes something in you churn uncomfortably. So you place a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the way his eyes widen at the gesture, and you give him the brightest smile you can muster.

“Well, whatever you choose to do, I’ll support you all the way!” And maybe your words got through to him, or maybe he saw something in your smile, but Zhongli chuckles, deep and rumbling. You once said it sounded like a dragon’s, and his face twisted into something you couldn’t quite read.

“Ever the optimist,” he tells you, fondness replacing that melancholic look in his eyes. “It is one of the many aspects that I admire about you.”

Your face heats up. Looking away from that affectionate look, you attempt to make light of his words. “H-Ha! Don’t go falling for me now, Zhongli. I’ll break your heart if you do!”

(You already have, Zhongli thinks, his heart beating a painful yet nostalgic tune in his chest.)

He waves your words away.

“Of course, such is to be expected of you,” he says idly, almost cryptically. You’re tempted to ask what that means, but he has the frustrating habit of pretending to be oblivious when he doesn’t want to answer a question, even though you can totally see through the act.

“Now back to the original topic!” You’re back to leaning your arms against the railings. Zhongli follows your actions by resting his gloved hands on the polished wood. “So, retirement, huh?”

He hums. “I was uncertain this morning, but our conversation has been quite enlightening. I have you to thank for solidifying my decision.” You watch him look over Liyue’s harbor, at the people down by the docks all working together like pieces in a cog. There’s something like pride in Zhongli’s eyes as he stares at the people. “Liyue is in good hands, is it not?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess you’re right. Lady Nigguang’s a real scary one, but she’s the best at her job. The Yuheng can afford to take a break now and then, but Keqing’s great at whatever she puts her mind in. Captain Beidou’s not exactly a government official, but she’s a known figure of the people, and she’s got a real good head on her shoulders—not to mention, real fun to hang out with!” You snicker at the memory of getting into a drinking contest with her. You lost, obviously, but the experience was worth it.

It’s then that you realize you haven’t mentioned the most important person in all of Liyue.

“And Rex Lapis…” Zhongli seems to straighten at the mention of your archon. “He only comes down to Liyue once a year now in the past few centuries. Well, that’s to be expected since Liyue’s at peace now. I guess even gods need to rest every now and then.”

(Something in his chest twists at your words.)

“Yes, they do, don’t they?” he agrees, his voice solemn.

You nod. “He’s probably over in Celestia partying with the other gods. You think he’s shacking it up with his partner up there? Heh, at least one of us is getting some.”

The reaction you receive is unexpected, but pleasantly surprising nonetheless.

Zhongli lets out a full blown laugh, head tilted back and shoulders shaking, eyes closed with mirth. You stare with your jaw open, unable to take your eyes off him even as his laughter begins to die down. It looks just like—

A man in white robes, veins of gold running down his arms as he held his stomach. His head tilted back, the ground shaking with the force of his laughter, his hood falling down to reveal familiar amber eyes gazing at you with mirth, fondness lurking beneath his smile—

“Ah, I truly have missed this.” Missed you, he doesn’t say, but you hear it all the same.

You decide that critical thinking really isn’t for you, so you brush away the strange not-memory and the feelings that rise up when he looks at you like that.

Teasingly, you grin at him. “Aw, Zhongli, it was only a week yet you missed me that much? Don’t worry, I missed you too.”

The quirk in his lips seems to tell you that he expected such an answer from you.

He then turns his head up, gazing into the mid-afternoon sky, your teasing forgotten.

“Once I retire, allow me to invite you for an afternoon of drinking osmanthus wine. I recently discovered a merchant selling top quality wine, and once i acquired a taste, it truly was—as per the merchant’s words—as if you have been taken back to a thousand years ago.”

There’s a quip waiting to to be said at the tip of your tongue, a joke at how he’s secretly been an old grandpa this entire time, but you swallow back the urge to let out the lighthearted joke.

There’s a fragility to this moment that you can’t quite put a finger on, so you hold back your usual retort and mull over your decision.

“I’d like that,” you say after a few heartbeats.

Zhongli smiles, and this time it’s less delicate, more sure of himself.

“I look forward to it.”

✧

You nearly barf once the liquid enters your mouth. All those drinking contests with Beidou has made your stomach weak. But the sight of Zhongli serenely sipping his own osmanthus wine reminds you to have enough tact not to mention how bad it tastes for you.

To delay your second sip, you decide to ask, “How is it?”

Zhongli places his cup down, the procelain making a soft noise as it meets the saucer. He then looks up, sees you holding your own cup of osmanthus wine and trying not to look constipated at the taste, and he smiles at the familiar sight.

“It tastes the same as I remember.”

“Oh my, Your Eternal Excellency! It’s an honor to have your most exalted presence in the Yae Publishing House!”

Her entire world stops, suspended in a haze, narrowing down to this little booth in a random street in the city of Inazuma. Time stretches on for eternity, while the god chasing it is stuck staring at the sight of a familiar, beautiful, ephemeral mirage.

There’s a friendly smile on your lips, not a hint of nervousness at being in the presence of a god such as herself. You’ve always been so fearless. Brave and courageous and stupid and self-sacrificing. Ei loved and hated that attribute of yours, back when she was still capable of loving someone without ruining them.

“Ei? Are you alright?”

For a moment, she lets herself believe it was your voice that spoke those words to her. Soft, soothing tones that once lulled her to rest after a day of training non-stop to improve her martial skills, back when a kagemusha like her was still granted the luxury of rest.

Sleep, Ei. Even gods need some shut eye.

But this is one of the many flaws of ephemerality—the moment for engaging in selfish delusions ends far too soon.

It takes all of her willpower to tear her gaze from you in order to face the Traveler.

“Yes, just a little surprised.” Years and years of experience has taught her to control her voice. It will not waver, not even in the presence of her once-dead lover.

“You sure? You kinda spaced out for a while back there,” the floating pixie who calls herself Paimon remarks.

“Yes, I am quite fine,” she says.

Although, is she truly? Perhaps not, but five hundred years of solitude has hardened her. Had this been before, perhaps she would have wept upon seeing you again, alive and whole and not painting the grass with a pool of your own blood.

Ei directs her attention to the Traveler. “Now, what were you saying about those light novels?”

For the rest of her time in the Yae Publishing House, she spends it dutifully avoiding your curious gaze. Even going so far as to wait by the railings as the Traveler picked a light novel for her to read.

She heard you speak to the Traveler once, making a suggestion regarding the selection.

“I think she’ll like this one!”

You were right, she did like it.

✧

Ei tries not to, but every time she ventures out of Tenshukaku to see more of her people, she passes by the Yae Publishing House that you, more often than not, watch over.

✧

The leylines near the roots of the Sacred Sakura Tree are being strange.

Walking with the Traveler after the disappearance of Furuyama, the blind tea-brewer, is solemn. The path they’re traversing in is painfully familiar. She tries not to remember what the scenery would have looked like five hundred years ago.

A twig snaps. She and the Traveler whirl at the direction of the noise—

And Ei is once again faced with the ghost of her past.

“Ei, is it really you?”

She has seen you in this era, wearing a kind smile and modern clothes. Always so welcoming despite the strangeness of the Raiden Shogun visiting a light novel store every other week. No, your appearance is not what makes her stumble, makes her breathless and teary-eyed as she closes the remaining distance between you.

It is the way you are looking at her. Because finally, finally there is recognition in your eyes.

You are solid beneath her touch, not an apparition, not a mirage. Your armor digs into her skin as she embraces you, her heart the lightest it’s been in five hundred years.

You’re sweaty and dirty and a little bit bloody, but Ei has seen you in the worst state possible. Dirtying her immaculate clothing is a small price to pay for this brief moment.

The Traveler watches with wide eyes, reconciling the image of the warrior in worn, outdated armor with the kind, cheerful editor of the Yae Publishing House.

“I was starting to lose hope,” you tell her, voice low with a quiet sort of relief. The smile she receives makes her feel young again, a kagemusha who fell in love with one of her sister’s retainers. “Now that you’re here, I’m sure everything will be alright.”

The future you speak of is nonexistent. The moment you died—her last hope, the only remaining light in her life after the death of her sister and companions—everything became a far cry from alright.

But Ei will tell you none of this. Your current self is safe in Inazuma City, living in the future she created with her own hands. But you of the past, the one she loved dearly, you know nothing of this future, of what will happen—had happened—to you, and she will keep it that way.

Perhaps this is just her way of attempting to alleviate her guilt upon your death, but she wants this ghost of you to move on with the knowledge that everything will be fine, even if all of it is a lie.

This time, it is her that prompts you to rest your head on her lap, stroking your hair and watching you be lulled to sleep.

“Rest now. I will handle the rest.”

Your eyes flutter closed for the final time, taking her hand in yours. You leave her with parting words that will resonate deep within her soul for the rest of eternity.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, Ei.”

✧

One would think that after battling herself for five hundred years, her first words to her dear friend would be to ask how Inazuma is, but perhaps five hundred years has made her a bit more selfish. So instead, she asks about you.

“How is…?” Ei doesn’t need to mention your name for Yae to know who she’s referring to.

“Oh, still delightful as ever, that one. Asks about you often, though. Far too often, in my opinion. Why, if I didn’t know any better I’d have thought I was only being approached so I can be the relayer of any news relating to you.” Yae shakes her head fondly. “Even without memories of your time together, that little one is still so smitten with you.”

Ei’s cheeks turns a light shade of pink. At the sound of Yae’s snicker, she turns a frown at the devious kitsune.

“Miko…”

“Oh, come now. Can’t a girl have a little bit of fun? Although, none of what I said was untrue.” Yae’s tone softens just the slightest bit, knowing the delicacy of anything regarding you. After a moment though, a sly smile makes its way to her lips. “If you have any tips on how to woo someone, be sure to tell me, Ei. Authors these days just have no imagination for romance, always so dry and boring.”

It’s a simple teasing remark, one of many that Yae is prone to saying. Ei shouldn’t respond to it, but she can’t help but say the first word that comes to her mind.

“Gifts.”

✧

“Your Eternal Excellency!”

The genuine surprise in your face leaves her amused. You quickly attempt to fix your messy hair and rumpled clothes. Had it been anyone else, she would have thought them lazy for being so unkempt, but you manage to make even the smallest of things endearing.

She supposes some things stay the same, even in a new life and a new era.

“I came to bring you a gift,” she says, holding out the Raiden Shogun statue that was sent to the Tenshukaku that morning.

You stare at the object with wide eyes, like you’re unable to believe that your archon is giving you an actual gift instead of the other way around.

When she set out in search of you that afternoon, she thought giving you something would be a good gesture. Although, in hindsight, gifting you a statue of herself may come off as conceited of her. Ah, she really should ask someone for advice before she approaches you next time.

Before she can apologize and return the statue, you’re already taking it from her hands, a look of wonder crossing your face as you inspected it.

“This was sold out hours ago! I was planning on buying one but I got there too late!” Casual. You speak so casually, as if the person you’re speaking to isn’t the Almighty Narukami Ogosho, God of Thunder.

As if the person you’re speaking to is simply her, Ei. Not the Raiden Shogun. Not the Electro Archon. Just Ei.

You give her your best smile. “Thank you.”

Can a person still be the same person even without their memories?

Ei doesn’t know, but perhaps she’ll find out soon.

part 2

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #archons x reader #venti x reader #zhongli x reader #ei x reader #raiden ei x reader #raiden shogun x reader #gn reader

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mannatea · 6 months

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The World Could Be Beautiful, a Tales of Symphonia ‘fic (Chapter 14)

Word Count: 78,782 Summary: After a chance encounter in Izoold, Raine and Regal both get a lot more than they bargained for. (A one-night stand 'fic with consequences.) Chapter Summary: Genis and Raine have a couple of heart-to-hearts. Pairing/Characters: Regal/Raine, Genis, George, Lloyd, Colette and assorted OCs as the story requires. Zelos shows up later. Warnings: Blanket warnings for the entire fic: pregnancy (and all that comes with it), discussion/mention of abortion, power imbalance, fantasy racism. Rating: Explicit. (No sex in this chapter, but there's a mention.) Genre: Romance/angst/friendship vibes.

The title is the link to Ao3 for Chapter 14!

Notes (to be read after the chapter) under a cut:

We find out why Genis quit school (racism, basically). I really, and I mean really, loathe the idea that "half-elves are all intellectual by nature." It's just so gross to me, it reads like racist rhetoric (just in fantasy form).

I know we get quite a few "intellectual half-elf" characters, but that doesn't mean they are all that way.

Raine's z-skit where she thinks about how being a half-elf gives her the lifespan to indulge her curiosity and interest in learning is PEAK GREATNESS. I like the idea of leaning into her just being a curious person who likes to learn (regardless of her race, but this gives her a benefit to learning, that it can go on and on). That said, I do definitely think that if she'd had a more "normal" upbringing, she might not be quite so laser-focused on learning and on knowledge.

Something something, The Count of Monte Cristo strikes back with "freedom can be taken away (but knowledge cannot)." I think Genis likes to learn too, and I'm truly obsessed with the idea that he and Raine are intelligent in different ways...and that their passions in learning are found down different paths—him leaning toward math and science, and her toward the arts.

That said, I think Raine is the kind of person to sort of...accidentally project onto Genis her own wants. It's not that I believe she might live vicariously through Genis, necessarily, but that she'd struggle a bit with the idea that what she wishes she'd had for herself isn't necessarily what Genis wants for his own life.

I do feel very very certain that, in Raine's pursuit of knowledge and of schooling, she would have tolerated racist behavior against her, but she is not the kind of person who wants to make waves or stir (let alone feel) hatred. Genis is a different person and he's like fuck this shit I'm out.

FINALLY, Genis gets to hear Raine's side of what happened and why. You know he's been waiting ages.

I didn't get a lot of opportunity to really explore Genis in this story because I never dipped into his perspective, but you know he's been very worried all these months. Surely she wouldn't have married a man for the sake of pure convenience?

He just wants his sister (and mom, tbh) to be happy. The idea that maybe she gave up and just settled for the sake of the baby or for financial security has undoubtedly had him a bit extra worried; what if he showed up to town and she was miserable? Or just...not happy in general, even if she was okay?

Personally, I think Raine would be all right in a marriage of convenience so long as it was to a good friend who didn't push her into anything she didn't want to do, but Genis would always think she deserved better than that.

I think, too, growing up with her never having had a chance to do anything for herself...always putting her all into raising him and going without for his sake... That she is content in this marriage, that it really is love, that she's...happy? He couldn't have asked for more.

Cramping after orgasm is pretty normal whether you're pregnant or not (and is not necessarily indicative of any sort of specific problem). However, Regal and Raine probably wouldn't know that (and they're not really having sex that often to begin with), so having this happen when she's eight months in is kind of terrifying.

Especially with the lie they've told everyone, it would be super obvious they were lying if she went into labor a whole month early LOL. They want to get as close to the actual due date as possible.

I feel like Raine just. Would definitely have some experience in midwifery. Something about being a healer.

Also, the old-fashioned (but still quite prevalent) idea that men shouldn't see a baby coming out of their wife's vagina is because there's just this whole fucking subset of men who, once they actually see this happen, are magically unattracted to their wives. They are gross and deserve to be bullied.

Also, four-year-old Genis casually observing a birth is just fully based on someone I used to be relatively close to (whose very young daughter was present for the birth of her second baby). Yeah a little kid would think the sudden appearance of the head was kind of fucking funny.

That said, of course Genis would not find this very funny now. Birth shifts from being really cool and fascinating to being scary quickly when it's someone you love having to do it.

Lastly, Genis seeing his sister as a "domestic housewife" is something I wanted to look at more closely from the beginning, but I think Raine sort of fell into it a bit easier (taking one step at a time) so it's not the kind of thing she's thinking too deeply about. There's a lot of relief to be had in having money, having a place to live, having the things she needs, and in having help with the baby.

From Genis's perspective though, it just sorta looks like she's being turned into a housewife. Which is weird, because she never really...gives off vibes that she'd be happy doing that.

I personally think Raine needs to hit a middle ground with a family. If, indeed, she ends up with children, she strikes me as the type of person who wants to be very involved, and would prefer to stay home, but not to the degree of losing herself and making her entire identity mother/wife/caretaker.

With Regal she gets to strike a balance between raising a child and being a wife and having a career, because she does need these identities outside of her husband and outside of her child.

Also, wouldn't Raine's little history for kids books be cute? I think she should do it, even if Genis disagrees. 🤣

#regal bryant #raine sage #regal x raine #tales of symphonia #mannafics

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 4 months

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“A Strange Little World”- Loki x Reader

As the walls of duty and destiny close in around you and your secret lover, Loki proposes that you wash your hands of it all and start your own palace of dreams out in the realms.

Pairing: Loki x Asgardian!F!Reader Content Warning: sexism, forced marriage, military conscription, Odin is a massive c**t, some lusty thoughts, mostly longing and comfort fluff Word Count: 5.1k

You liked to ‘play house’ with Loki, but it didn’t mean the same thing to you that it would to other couples.

Whereas the mere mention of the game for most would conjure images of naughty romping and playacting in the buff, for two good little citizens of Asgard’s elite, it was a bit more literal than that for you.

Your lives were already so chaotic, with expectations raining down upon you like hot stones, forcing you to duck one way and leap another every waking second. Loki, as a prince of the realm, was moved around by his family and tutors like a pawn on a chessboard. He was kept constantly on his feet with everything from physical training to seidr sessions, diplomacy lessons, holding court, touring the front lines, etc. Odin had even begun to parade possible brides before his second son, evidently refusing to accept your rank as worthy of the royal family.

For your part, you were also being tossed about the whipping winds of life as a courtier. Finishing school had been rough enough, but your quest to join the Valkyries had only just borne fruit. Alas, this was against your father’s wishes to marry you off instead. Your days were spent doing everything in your power to convince your family to release you from a marriage contract made to a distant cousin years ago in order to join the elite team of fighters.

Not to mention, Odin considered Valkyries to be worthy of a prince’s hand.

What you never understood was how Odin, in his supposedly infinity wisdom, couldn’t foresee that allowing two youths to run around as playmates in childhood could possibly lead to a romance as adulthood took hold. As children, you and Loki joked about what you would name your own sons and daughters. When you both began to realize the jokes were turning into sincere wishes for your future, it all changed forever. Odin began eyeing you with suspicion and disdain where he once smiled with fatherly affection. He’d outright rejected your suit when Loki brought it to proposal.

Once it became all but apparent that your affectionate interludes with Prince Loki were temporary at best, you refused to give in to it. Instead, you began meeting in secret, which was easier than imagined for a Prince and his muse, for behind the armoire in his bedchamber was a hidden door, which led to a small winding staircase. The hidden passage led to a cozy sitting room with only a few chairs, a table, and a fainting sofa over by the window. The room was trimmed in gold, the walls a faded, light green. Perhaps once it had been used for the same purpose it now was, but for one of Loki’s own ancestors (you only hoped they approved of you more than the Allfather did).

Nothing brought you or your princely lover more joy than to sit in his private parlor and regale one another about your stressful days bowing to the whims of the Allfather’s court. Thus, like a married pair, you chose to sneak away after supper each night to Loki’s chamber to have dessert and tea, and to pretend that the hard, demanding world outside his window wasn’t there, perhaps dissolved away in an after-storm fog. Perhaps his sitting room was flying through the clouds, up, up, and away from Asgard…

The lovemaking was always sublime, but even at your quietest, sipping tea and sharing a slice of pastry, you were in paradise as long as he was beside you. You hung on Loki’s every word, no matter what he was describing or how well you understood it. In return, he smiled and took your hand whenever you expressed your own fears for your future.

“Like a husband and wife,” Loki had tenderly whispered once, a grateful smile unrolling like a banner across his lips. “I cannot tell anyone else what I express to you every night with perfect ease.”

You and Loki did what no one else in any of the nine realms bothered to do: you listened to one another. Loki wove a tapestry of emotion, conflict, and dreams whenever he spoke. Even describing the most mundane of daily activities was like listening to a sonnet. He observed the world differently from most people. His mind was beautiful (as was the rest of him). If only his wonderful thoughts weren’t wasted on unreceptive ears like the King’s.

Additionally, it was obvious that he found your own rambling monologue like the preface to a grand story in which he just had to immerse himself. Whether you were bemoaning your betrothal plans or how itchy your ceremonial robes were, he drank in your every word like a rich, intoxicating wine.

However, not every night was for unloading your troubles. Some nights, like the one you presently found yourself in, were for fantasy. You and Loki had just finished making love in his bed, and now you were wrapped only in his bedsheets and sitting in his secret room, waiting for dessert to be delivered. Loki had only covered his lap for the sake of the servant when he came with tea.

“Did you take the contraceptive I sent?” he asked once the servant left.

“Of course,” you replied, sighing to yourself. “I always do.” Of course precautions would be necessary if you were to continue sleeping with the Prince, but it sometimes drove home a fact that gave you great sorrow: one day soon, someone would be proudly carrying Loki’s heirs, and it wouldn’t be you.

He sat back in his chair and spread his legs apart, rendering the small lap blanket he’d halfheartedly covered himself with entirely useless. He looked out the window into the fading summer light with a dreamy gaze in his eye. “I’ve been thinking, and I don't like Henrik for a boy after all.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for the teapot, at least until Loki instantly sat up in order to get to it and pour your cup before you could do it yourself. “Thank you,” you said softly, taking a sip of the hot, floral tea, letting its mellow aroma settle your nerves for a moment before adding your thoughts. “And I told you before I won’t EVER allow a child of mine to be named…ergh…Henrik.”

Loki gave a hearty chortle as he reached for a handful of candied pecans from a small bowl. “Too common for my Princess’ babe, is it?”

“Too common for a stable raker,” you retorted. After a moment of silence, you added, “Out of curiosity, do you have anything better in mind?”

“There are hundreds of names worthy of a child of the royal family,” answered Loki, popping two nuts into his mouth and taking a moment to chew and swallow them before carrying on. “However, there are far fewer names worthy of a child of ours.”

You wanted to move forward with your scenario, naming your offspring, planning your household, raising your future higher than it could ever be in truth. However, you had something you needed to tell him now, before anything got too difficult for you to say.

“My father has summoned Birger for the official betrothal,” you blurted out, causing Loki to startle and put down his tea cup with a little too much force. “He says he shall arrive tomorrow.”

He scoffed, leaning back again in clear disapproval. “Does your dear father know that marrying one’s cousin is nothing short of repulsive?”

“You know he is of the old ways, he knows most disapprove of his plans,” you said sadly, looking at your reflection in the cup before you, a single tear falling suddenly from your eye and landing in the middle of the brown liquid. “But that still doesn’t save me from it!”

Loki grunted like a frustrated boy, biting his lip to keep from letting the entirety of his unflattering judgements loose on you. He was still your father, after all, and Asgardian custom always demanded respect from one’s children. But something was occurring to him: an idea slowly coming into focus behind his eyes.

You’d expected him to say something by now. “Loki? Darling? What is it?”

“It suddenly makes sense,” he answered, leaning over the table and extending his arms out to you, open-palmed hands asking for yours. “My dear, I’m afraid they’re plotting deliberately against us, your father and mine both.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, gasping with surprise as you folded your hands into his from the other side of the table.

“Odin informed me over breakfast today that I am to serve my military conscription, beginning four days hence.”

“No!” you nearly shouted. “Please at least say he’s sending you to Vanaheim or Alfheim--”

“--regrettably, Thor and I are both being shipped like common rats off to Svartalfheim. There’s rustling in the air of an invasion.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable.

For you, the tears came more freely now. “But it’s dangerous there! You could die on the front against the Dark Elves!”

Loki shrugged. “Even Odin wouldn’t sacrifice his sons so thoughtlessly. We will be fighting from the tents, my darling, please believe me.”

“So, the King is sending you away to fight at the same time I am to be formally engaged,” you realized. “Tearing us apart forever.”

Loki squeezed your hand as his skin turned cool. “A mandatory conscription is for ten moon cycles,” he reminded you. “You will be wed by the time I return.”

“And you can’t get out of your duty?” you asked frantically. “You’re a Prince! Use your privilege to revoke it!”

He shook his head and brought your right hand to his lips, where he placed a sweet, tender, sad kiss on your fingers. “Desertion is death, even for one such as I.”

“Then what are we to do?”

He shrugged, at a loss as much as you were. “I have no idea, I’m afraid.”

After a moment’s awkward pause as you contemplated your dilemma, Loki added, “And your cotillion, which I presume your father will hold with all the appropriate pomp?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

Loki looked over his shoulder, toward the setting sun in the window, which cast orange beams of light about the room behind your heads, giving the room a peaceful glow as night set in. “Truly, I thought Thor would have at least had his engagement gala by now with Sif. Meanwhile, I’d only imagined my own with you.”

You bit on your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

“However,” he went on, running his thumb casually over your knuckles, “I can imagine they are a rather dull affair. After all, every debutante ball I’ve been dragged by the ankles to witness has had the energy and excitement of an execution. A betrothal ceremony and celebration can hardly be better, can it?”

“As if that sentiment helps how I feel,” you mumbled.

You tore your hands from Loki’s grip, getting up from the chair and going over to the window, your back to Loki. After a moment, you sensed him moving in behind you before wrapping his arms around your belly, swinging you softly back and forth.

“You know it’s a crime to turn your back on your sovereign, Princess,” he said, his deep, gentle tone mismatching his words.

“Sadly, you aren’t my sovereign. Odin is,” you whispered, barely audible even to him. “And it seems to me that he has us like flies on his web.”

Loki’s mind was floating away the more he touched your warm body. “How lovely the sunset is tonight, chasing the fog away. Wouldn’t it be divine to walk down to the orchards on the edge of the city to watch it from the rolling knolls?”

You smiled and closed your eyes, losing yourself in fantasy. “I can almost hear Juni and Vali giggling and running around one of the fruit trees. Vali always tries to steal a lemon to throw around at her, the rascal!”

A moment of silence. “Juni?”

You turned your head, jerked out of your luxurious inner tableau. “Yes, Juni.”

“Vali is considerable,” Loki admitted, “But Juni? Is our daughter a cat?”

You giggled as Loki’s silly ramble reached a climax. “Can you see her debut? ’Now announcing to the court and the Nine Realms…Her Royal Highness, Princess Juni of Asgard?!’” His mock horror nearly brought you to your knees in laughter. “I’d sooner name her Thora.”

You turned around, facing your Loki and slowly cupping his cheek with a gentle hand. “Maybe we should stop this. It doesn’t matter now, does it? Juni will never be. Nor will Vali or any other of our ghost-children.”

“Ghosts are dead,” Loki stopped you, leaning into your cheek and shutting his eyes. “Our children are merely yet-to-be.”

“Never to be,” you corrected him, leaving the pair of you in depressed silence for minutes until he broke it with a kiss and a sigh.

“I should leave you,” you said, your eyes flooding with hot tears again. “Maybe it will be better if we never see each other again.”

He looked hurt by your decision, even frightened. “I can’t do that. I want to spend our last hours together in your arms and weaving our false hopes together in this strange little world we’ve made together.”

“Tell that to your father, and mine,” you snapped back, turning away again, not wanting for him to see you break down entirely. “It would make the separation even more difficult for us if we don’t just ignore one another until you leave for the front lines.”

After yet another uncomfortable pause, you felt Loki put a hand on your shoulder. It felt cold.

“Perhaps so,” he finally agreed. “But if you ever need me, I’ll come to you before your heart beats again.”

With nothing to say that wasn’t an outpouring of pleas and love, you quickly abandoned him in his secret closet, crestfallen and lonely once more. You didn’t make it back to your rooms in the palace, needing to hide behind a statue of Allfather Bor to hide your sobs.

Your father, Njord, was descended from one of the lesser branches of the Asgardian elite families. No royal blood to speak of flowed through your veins, but just enough nobility to warrant membership of the highest social class, and some degree of access to the court and King.

There was also just enough prestige in your lineage to call for a formal debutante ball when you reached majority, as well as a formal engagement cotillion to acknowledge the arrival of your bridegroom, complete with a banquet barge that spent the day floating carelessly in circles around the palace moat.

Njord, social climber he was, spared no expense for the revelries in order to show off the little status he held, going so far as to dare to extend an invitation to the royal family themselves. The barge was decked in your family colors: sapphire blue and silver, in the form of perhaps a few too many banners and garlands. You thought the decorations were so many that the yacht could sink under the added weight.

You were arrayed in the finest sapphire silk your parents could find, which, as it turned out, was merely a gown borrowed from a relative who’d never worn it. Still, between the soft, clingy fabric and the shimmering silver family crest hanging at your throat, you were a radiant sight.

Traditionally, the barge made three laps around the palace without the bridegroom on board. On the third go-around, he would embark and make a presentation before you and your parents, after which the boat would continue circling all afternoon as everyone aboard flooded their minds with wine. Those first three laps took nearly an hour to complete, and each second that passed, each inch that was sailed, you grew more and more nauseated.

You may as well have jumped into the water. You were already drowning in a sea of insincerity, lost in waves of mindless chatter about dish patterns. Meanwhile, your soul floated above your head, looking for Loki in each window of the castle, wondering which room he sulked in. Was he watching as your yacht floated by? Was he trying to get a good look at you in your dress? Or did he turn away and flinch as you rode past?

Birger and his mother, a widow with a perpetually-puckered lip, boarded without incident as the barge made a temporary berth at the palace gate. He was dressed in matching color to yours, his shiny blonde hair swept back into a bun, a gold chain obscured by a few to many ruffles at the neck. He was handsome, but his big brown eyes looked somewhat vacant, as if he was only partially aware of his surroundings. Or perhaps, he was looking for you.

Led along a red carpet, Birger and his sour-faced mother bowed at the waist before you and your parents, beginning the formal engagement ceremony,

“My father-to-be,” mumbled the hapless groom, “I am here to present myself as a suitor for--”

Trumpets sounded suddenly from within the palace in the musical chord that always announced the approach of the Allfather. It was so well-known that everyone turned and bowed at the knee in reflex, aside from yourself and Birger, who was still standing dumbfoundedly in front of you.

“It can’t be!” exclaimed Njord excitedly. “Y/N! Bow! The Allfather is here!”

Odin sauntered regally to the barge with his usual entourage following adoringly behind. The King was flanked on each side by his sons. Thor wore his usual light armor and red cape, looking as dashing and prideful as he ever was.

Loki, of course, had dressed himself as formally as possible, wearing every piece of princely insignia he owned, flaunting his rank like a peacock’s tail. His dark green jacket was buttoned to the chin and had nary a wrinkle. He’d braided his hair in a rope down the back of his neck, a style he knew all too well that you adored. Over his chest laid a gold sash tied at the hip, and around his legs were black trousers lined at the hem with gold trim. He even wore the tiny gold earring studs you once gifted him with for Jol.

You wanted him. You needed him. And he knew this ceremonial outfit of his drove you wild.

You scoundrel, you thought to yourself, your eyes unable to detach from his image as he drew closer.

“Lord Njord of the Westlands,” Odin called out, his booming voice going against what would otherwise have been expected from his old man’s frame, “I greet you in jubilation at the engagement of your only daughter, and my sons and I hope to join you in your revelries this afternoon!”

Njord looked about to urinate. “I…ugh….YES YOUR HIGHN--”

“--we greet you most humbly and invite you to our feast!” interrupted your mother, much more calm. “We are honored by your attention, Allfather!”

“Then let the festivities continue!” Odin declared with joviality. A cheer rang up from everyone aside from yourself, your intended, and your soul mate. You and Loki were tense and sorrowful. Birger was nervous now that his presentation would be witnessed by the most powerful man in the Nine.

The royal procession moved onto the barge, and once the boat sailed once more, Birger was invited to continue his formal proposal. He had come with a poem of his own creation: a simple, four-lined stanza about marriage that didn’t even rhyme. Afterward, he took out a lyre and began stroking out a painfully simple song that was traditionally taught to children as a first assignment at a music lesson. Loki was cringing from the stern of the boat, near a door that led down into the hull. You tried hard to stifle a giggle, and the urge to reject the man right out only grew as the insipid ballad went into third and fourth reprises.

You were so distracted that Njord had to recite your line for you after the presentation was (finally!) finished: “My daughter accepts your suit, and four cycles hence, you will wed before the Allfather and share in your joys and sorrows until the end of time.”

Your sadness reached an apex when you realized that not only would Loki be away for ten cycles, but with your wedding so soon, you could be well into a pregnancy by the time he returned, and what image would that be with which to greet your soul mate?

Another cheer rang up, but your nausea was making your face turn hot, and you only had a moment to absorb the event before the world turned to watercolor before you, and you sank to your knees. In your stupor, you could hear a few gasps, your mother calling your name, and a few scuttling feet.

Taking off like a shot, Loki got to you first in spite of the distance between you, using his godlike speed to ensure that he would be the one scooping you up instead of your fiance.

No matter, he was still standing on the red carpet, dumbfounded, a string having snapped on his lyre.

Loki ran with you into the hull, slamming the door behind him and seeking out anything on which to lay you down. He came across a cushioned bench under a porthole, and as soon as he set you down, you came back, smiling at the view of his face.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t eat this morning out of nerves.”

“Understandable, Princess,” Loki muttered sweetly, taking your hand in both of his, closing them around yours as if they held a precious jewel inside that needed to be protected. “You should know that this was all Odin’s doing. He’s trying to motivate me to turn my back on you by bringing me here.”

“I thought so.”

He went on. “Yesterday, he tried to tell me that you were excitedly preparing for your wifely duties with your…cousin. When I didn’t believe him, he forced Thor and I to attend the party today, as if rubbing my nose in your engagement would rend my love from me!”

Loki leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Do you need water, love?”

You nodded, even as the haze around your vision faded and your senses returned.

“Have another fetch it then, and leave us.”

Odin’s darker, authoritative voice was enough to force Loki to stand at attention, conditioned to do so from the first day he toddled upright. He’d followed you below decks.

Loki looked at you with concern, but you replied by stubbornly shaking off his offered arm as you got to your feet. “It’s okay, love,” you said to Loki. “I presume the Allfather wishes to personally congratulate me on my engagement.”

“Indeed, and to see to your health, of course,” Odin replied with a frown, looking expectantly at Loki again. This time, upon hearing your release, Loki defiantly kissed your brow again before looking his father in the face, brushing past him angrily to go upstairs.

After he was certain that Loki was gone, Odin turned back to you. You did give him a small curtsy. “I am glad to see you on your feet again,” remarked Odin. “Tis a pity to see a bride fall ill at her own cotillion.”

You didn’t answer him with words, instead refusing to look him in the eye deliberately.

Odin went on. “Of course, it is the proper course of action for you to move forward with the marriage, and I am glad to see you obeying your call to be a wife.”

Again, you refused him a reply, shifting your feet uncomfortably, wishing Loki would return with water for you.

“You would have made a poor valkyrie,” he continued, musing as if it weren’t an insult but a mere fact, “You lack the discipline and swiftness. I’m unsure why Brunnhilde accepted your bid at all. Perhaps it was a kindness.”

“Because she knew after I was inducted, you’d have no further excuse to refuse my suit,” you finally replied. “She and I are friends enough that she knows my heart.”

“I am the King of Asgard, I need no excuse to refuse any suitors who wish to taint my son’s lineage with their common blood!”

You shrunk back a little, genuinely hurt.

“You will both come to realize in time that I am only doing what is right. Your cousin is a suitable husband. Perhaps if you agree to end this silly affair with my son, I will double the worth of your wedding gift in gratitude.”

You scoffed and ignored the bribe. “So tainting Loki’s lineage with my blood is a mortal sin, yet tainting my own with incest is not a crime?” you asked incredulously. “My King, your logic repulses me. Please execute me instead.”

Odin didn’t seem to expect this. “Well, being so rash would hardly be appropriate here.”

You nodded, rolling your eyes and completely losing your decorum. “I should have known a creature with no heart wouldn’t understand!”

In the heat of the moment, you put your life on the line to brush past Odin, turning your back on him and immediately running back into the open air.

Loki was not far from you, but you didn’t move toward him, instead running to the ship’s railing and looking over the side. The moat wasn’t particularly deep, but no one, not even your father, knew you could swim.

Maybe, I could--

Turning back to Loki, running toward you full-tilt, you winked at him before leaping over the railing in one move. Your sapphire silk flew up behind you like a banner as you dove headfirst into the moat, swimming around the bend and out of sight.

You didn’t hear the splash from behind as Loki executed a perfect swan-dive in after you.

Moving quickly, you were able to find a small portion of the moat’s edge where you could hoist your body onto the side without climbing. By then, the barge was on the other side of the palace and wouldn’t be due to double back for nearly an hour.

Still, you could hear the chaotic shouts for you calling out from behind, and you quickly snuck behind a bush in order to wring out your soaked dress. You didn’t want to wait too long, and you were able to sneak your way out of town without being noticed or taken for anyone other than a soaking-wet maid in a ruined ceremonial dress dashing toward the beach.

The shores of Asgard were littered with waterfalls that poured out into the open sea. You hid behind one, tucked in a small cavern in the rock, waiting for Loki to come to you. There, no one else would find you and drag you home. However, you’d been here with Loki before. He knew the significance of the spot. He only needed to bide his time until he could slip away from Odin’s attention.

Father will whip me for hours for this, and then move up the wedding to tomorrow, you thought woefully.

The sun began its afternoon descent, and while you could occasionally hear guards and search parties calling out from the sandy shore, no one thought to look behind any of the cascades for you, and by teatime, it sounded like they’d given up or moved on. You were beginning to get cold, wondering if you would have to find a room in an inn for the night. Hopefully, no one would recognize you…

Fortunately, when the faint green glow of seidr began to split the falls open from the middle outward, just before the sun dipped below the horizon, you knew Loki had found you, and just in time.

There he stood, about ten feet below you on the shore giving you a dry spot to climb down the cliffside. He held a horse’s reins in his free hand, and the huge white stallion he had in his captivity was saddled and antsy to run.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he apologized as you fell into his arms. “I swam after you, but you try getting past an entire city of people when you're Prince. Plus, I had a few things to gather for our ride.”

“Ride?” you asked, wiping away a tear with your closed fist awkwardly.

He nodded with a wink and a sneaky grin that was laced with excitement. “I think after today, we’ve both had enough of this nonsense, haven’t you?”

You smiled and stepped up to pet the beautiful creature on the snout. It leaned into your hand with a gentle exhale, indicating his contentment.

“Indeed.”

He helped you onto the horse, and then took his place in front of you at the reins. You’d never ridden before, and so you wrapped your arms tightly around Loki’s waist, which made him chuckle.

“Normally, I would protest that this was too tight a grip. However, it being you…you may hold me even closer if you can manage it.”

At first, you maintained a death-grip on him as you began riding off along the beach, away from the palace. Quickly, however, your trust of Loki and relief that you were putting distance between yourself and your intended gave you confidence, and only after a few minutes, you began to relax.

“Loki, when will we return to Asgard? Tomorrow?”

He brought your hand up to his lips, where he took a moment to kiss every finger. Each touch of his soft lips against your skin sent tiny bolts of lightning up your arm and down your spine.

“I was thinking, perhaps, my sweet Princess, that we would never return to Asgard. Let us find a new plot of land and make ourselves the King and Queen of it!”

“But your conscription!” you protested. “You cannot submit yourself to the axe on my account.”

“I won’t,” he insisted. “My projection will, however, be most glad to lose his head on our behalf.”

You rode vigorously along the coastline for a few miles until the sun was setting over the watery horizon, when you slowed to a trot, convinced that you weren’t being pursued by Odin or your father and Birger. Asgard itself was no longer visible behind you, and only the faint glow of the city’s hazy aura polluting the indigo sky indicated its continued existence.

“Loki, my love?”

“Yes, Princess?” he cooed back, squeezing your hand affectionately before returning it to the reigns.

There was nothing but the beach and sky before you for as far as you could see. “Do you…do you know where we’re going?”

A brief pause. You couldn’t see it from behind him on the saddle, but you knew Loki was grinning.

“Of course not, my dear. But isn’t that the best part of all?”

I'm back and revitalized (and married)! :D I hope you enjoyed my little return fic! HAPPY NEW YEAR!

RANDOM TAGGIES: @acidcasualties @buttercupcookies-blog @fictive-sl0th @gigglingtiggerv2 @gruftiela @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @mischief2sarawr @maple-seed @simplyholl @wheredafandomat @xorpsbane @holdmytesseract @joyful-enchantress

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki/reader #loki fluff #fluff/comfort #asgard #elopement #loki x reader comfort #run away #bittersweet ending #odin sucks #arranged married

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buttered-my-biscuits · 5 months

Text

Fever Kisses

(A/N); First, I’d like to apologize to everyone for falling off the face of the earth this last YEAR. I’ve been diagnosed as Immunocompromised, so it’s been a fun ride catching every single cold known to man :’) Currently getting over a 3-week long cold, and I’m Miserable, so I need a healthy dose of our favorite dwarven brothers. — This is also my 1st Fic/Drabble ever, so here goes nothing!

Summary: A wet rainy night proves no challenge for dwarves or hobbits. The same, however, cannot be said for humans.

Pairings; Kili x Reader, Fili x Reader

Warnings; Fevers/Sickness, Very soft and fluffy fluff, with a bit of angst and drama.

Translations:

Ibrizinlêkh: Sunshine

Bunnel: Treasure of All Treasures

—————————————————

The rain poured harder than ever before, showing no mercy to the trees, the bees, and certainly no dwarves.

The dark and stormy clouds blanketed the skies, casting shadows amongst the rolling hills. Soaked to the bone, through cloaks and tunics, still the company of Thorin Oakenshield trudged on.

Dwarrow are hardy folk; cold and damp environments bothering them none. Humans on the other hand, however, do not share the same trait.

(Y/N) found herself at the back of the line, trudging her way through ankle-deep mud, her arms wrapped around herself in hopes of holding onto whatever warmth was left. Kili stayed close, whereas Fili opted to lead the pack side-by-side with Thorin.

Quiet conversation could be heard from certain members of the company, including the one beside you. Kili regaled you with his adventures with the Blue Mountains and how Fili had scored a 5-point Buck with a single throw of a dagger, enhancing his story with wild gesturing hand movements.

“— And man, you should have seen Amad’s face when we got back with the buck! I daresay she had never looked more proud!” Kili boasted properly. “…(Y/N)?”

You looked up, meeting his soft honey eyes, not realizing you had stopped in movement. “(Y/N), are you alright? Are you tired?” Kili took a step towards you, concern etching its way onto his face. You stared at him, a strange, skin-crawling feeling rolling up your spine, a harsh shiver wracking your frame.

Kili closed the short distance between you, his hand gently landing on your arm before repeating his question. Only, this time, as the sound hit your ears, it sounded as though he were not speaking Common Speech at all. Your face scrunched in confusion, before it hit you. You felt a gasp rip through you as you quickly grabbed hold of Kili’s tunic, your legs feeling as though they were to give out. Your vision swirled as though you were one with a tornado, nausea quickly settling in.

Beyond the ringing of your ears, you could hear Kili yelling something, before the shadows of the others came into your peripherals. You tried to breathe, feeling the weight of a thousand bricks upon your chest — you felt as though you were suffocating; your vision began to darken with infectious black spots. Increasing your hold on Kili’s tunic as one last whimper escaped, you felt yourself fall.

—————————————————

“…(Y/N?)” Kili called back to you, having paused in his story at your stillness. He closed the distance between you two, lying his hand on your arm. He called to you once more, only to be met with confusion. He found himself mirroring your expression, if but only for a moment, before that expression quickly turned to terror as your body seized.

One arm shot out to hold up your weakening frame, the other gripping your arm tightly. “Uncle!” Kili shouted, his panicked tone ringing through the air. One look back from both Fili and Thorin had them sprinting to the back of the line.

“What happened to her?” Fili inquired while quickly reaching out with the goal of steadying you. His fear quickly grew as your weak frame shuddered one last time, before alast going limp. Barely catching you in time, he quickly hauled you upwards into his arms, your head lolling heavily against his chest.

Thorin laid his hand upon your too-warm forehead, quietly cursing in Khuzdul. “We need to find shelter. Now!” Thorin barked at the others, watching as they quickly scrambled towards the rocky cliff side.

—————————————————

Safely inside the dry remains of the cavern, a fire was hastily made while Fili and Kili worked to lay out a bedroll for you. Oin frantically dug through his pack, looking for his medicines and ailments as Thorin dug through his own looking for anything dry.

“We need to get her into dry clothes. This will do for now.” Thorin held out an oversized, but dry Tunic.

Fili and Kili shared a look, waiting for their Uncles’ instructions. Surely he didn’t expect them to undress her? Sensing his nephews hesitance, Thorin grumbled under his breath. “All of you. Turn away, now!” Thorin barked once more, before shedding your jacket. Together with his nephews, they worked to undress you, much to said nephews embarrassment.

Moments later, you lay peacefully upon a bedroll, clothed by nothing more than Thorin’s tunic, and a blanket modestly wrapped around your lower half.

Oin knelt beside you, lifting your head gently as he pressed a small glass vial to your lips. “Come on lass, swallow it down.” Oin quietly prayed, pouring the liquid onto your tongue, before sighing with relief at the sight of your body naturally swallowing the rather horrible tasting liquid.

“And now we wait.”

—————————————————

You were floating through the air — clouds more specifically. You were sure of it. You breathed in deeply through your nose, smelling the distinct smell of… a campfire? Surely not in the clouds…

You forced your heavily eyelids to open, finding yourself looking up at a pair of dwarves, whom were sitting side-by-side, heads leaning against one another as they both slept peacefully.

You attempted to recall how you got in said dwarves’ lap, but your brain felt far too mushy and not up to the task. You brought your hand up to Fili’s arm, with the intention of pulling yourself up. However upon doing so, you found yourself with not even enough strength to close your fist around said arm. Grumbling slightly, you tried again.

“Would you like some help?” A tired voice whispered beside you, causing you to jump. You looked up to see ice blue eyes peering back at you, a soft smile creeping their way into them.

At your silence, Fili brought his hand to your forehead once more, clicking his tongue at his findings. “You still have a fever. You need to rest more.” Fili pawed at your blanket, bringing it farther up your body, before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Here, Fee. Get her to drink some water.” Kili, awakened at the commotion, handed Fili an opened canteen. Slowly, Fili helped you sit up with a hand at your back, the other bringing the canteen to your lips. You sighed at the feeling of the cold liquid sliding down your throat; Refreshing. A few sips and Fili lowered it, much to your dismay. “Not too much at once, Ibrizinlêkh.” He chuckled, handing it back to Kili.

Swiping your tongue over your now moist lips, you sighed contentedly and closed your eyes, before shimmying back down to rest your head upon Fili’s chest once more.

Eventually, quiet conversation broke out between the two brothers, offering you distraction while you rested your heavily eyelids. Before long though, you found yourself peering back up at them, breaking said conversation as they both returned your gaze, a sight of content and fondness donning their faces.

Without thinking, you found yourself gripping Fili’s outer coat, raising yourself up to his chin. Using your other hand, you placed it on the back of his neck, gently guiding his nose to rest alongside your own. Instinctively Fili closed his eyes upon the close proximity; you gently lifted your head slightly, to rub your nose along his. Up, down. Up, down. And a third time, before resting your forehead against his. “Thank you…” You whispered quietly, before pulling back to reveal a stunned look upon his face. Had your brain not been mush, you surely would have laughed.

Looking to his right, you found Kili staring, dumbfounded at your stunt. Chuckling, you reached for his cheek. Despite his confusion, Kili leaned forward until his nose lay along side yours. Up, down. Up, down. A third time. Slowly, intimately.

Pulling back, you found yourself wearing a content smile, theirs quickly mirroring your own. “Goodnight” you offered softly, before settling back down into Fili’s arms.

“Goodnight… Ibrizinlêkh.”

“Goodnight, Bunnel.”

—————————————————

As the sun climbed over the horizon, you stretched comfortably, before opening your eyes. Once again, you found yourself peering upwards at a pair of blue eyes, alongside a pair of honey-brown.

“Good morning you two!” You yawned.

“Good morning (Y/N)” Kili returned,

“Good morning.” Fili whispered softly.

The company worked to pack up camp after each companion ensuring your health, before Thorin set them off once more.

Beginning your steps, you were stopped by a couple of hands — one upon your wrist, and the other on your arm. “(Y/N), can we ask you something?” Turning to meet both Fili and Kili’s eyes, yours in question. “Last night… you had… uhm.” Kili started, looking to his brother for assistance.

Fili touched his own nose, before continuing: “you had rubbed your nose with ours… what does that mean?”

You quickly found yourself stifling a laugh behind your hand, furthering their confused expressions. “Did I offer you both one? I’m sorry! My fever must have did away with my manners… it’s called an Eskimo Kiss. Thank you for taking care of me yesterday, both of you.” You grabbed each of their hands, offering a quick squeeze before turning back and following the others.

Fili and Kili found themselves standing there, baffled, before your words soaked in. The next sight, was picture worthy… Their faces quickly resembled that of a strawberry.

“An Eskimo Kiss?!” They squealed, quickly chasing after you.

—————————————————

I wrote this on the fly, on my phone at 3AM, as I personally have my own fever, so if this is horrendous to read, I blame my fever.

I do not have a Beta, nor did I honestly proof this before posting… but regardless, I hope y’all enjoy! This wasn’t supposed to be this long, but, that’s how fics/drabbles are supposed to go, right?

Goodnight and to the doctors I go!

#hobbit #hobbit fanfic #kili #kili x reader #fili x reader #the hobbit #fili

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iliketangerines · 1 month

Note

Do you write for Havik or Rain? I just barely see any fanfics of them and since ur an MK writer, I am taking the chance.

Could you write Earthrealm Champion! Reader with either Havik or Rain? Like some enemies to lovers tension going on... You don't have to write them if you don't want to though, I just wish they had more content.

sweet as wine

a/n: god knows i need more content for the both of them as well.

pairing: rain x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), creampies

Rain didn’t like you all too much

you also had water magic and when you had bested him in kombat because he foolishly believed that a human wouldn’t be able to beat the high mage of outworld…

well, safe to say, he felt humiliated

even more so when you had stuck your tongue out at him like som petty child and then put your hand up and flipped up your middle finger

he wasn’t sure what it meant but judging by Raiden’s disappointed glare, he knew it was some sort of insult

he sits across from you in the dining hall while you chat with the others about something on Earthrealm, and he scoffs at you when you say you had learned some water tricks when you were younger

you glance at him at his sound, but you just shoot him a glare before continuing with how you first learned flashy tricks as a dancer before switching to kombat

the next few days are torture having to sit next to you and listen to your stories

he tries to one-up you with his own stories about the decades he spent learning mastering the art of water magic, and yet you always seem to do better than him

you wielded magic younger, you learned it faster, you fought better with the water than he did, and it infuriated Rain to no end

even worse, he was always stuck next to you because two water magic users theoretically should get along with each other, but Rain held nothing but envy towards you

and yet, despite all that, you were always somewhat cordial with him, letting the smallest hints of frustration shine through when he grumbled something derogatory about Earthrealmers

but, you still stuck by him closely and traveled with him around the palaces and the village outside, and he eventually stopped mumbling insults at you and started seeing who you really were

he couldn’t deny that you were beautiful, especially in the soft glow of the lanterns while smiling at him

you bought him food and desserts from the vendors and asked him to explain it all to you about the food, and he found himself day after day finding joy in watching your face light up when he explained the cultural treats and snacked on them

and then he had gone and betrayed the empire and flooded Seido with water, too blinded by his ambition, and he had come back to court begging for forgiveness and to be punished for his actions

and then you were there, defending him to try and better himself as a person rather than be locked up to rot for the rest of his life

Rain felt his heart thump at the sight of you fighting for him, and he knew he was a goner

he spent his days bettering himself with you by his side, teaching him all the tricks you had learned, and he did the same for you

sometimes, some of the old banter would come back, insults flying at each other, but now it was underlined with a hint of playfulness, a hint of flirting

or maybe it was all in his head

and now, he sat with you on the balcony of the training pits, moon high in the sky, as you both drank some sweet outworld alcohol and regaled each other with tales of learning and failing certain water magic

you laugh as he tells you he had been trying to make a ball of water float over to him when he first learned magic but it had ended with puddles on the floor and a mop to clean it all up

you slap his shoulder and lean in close, not quite believing that the high mage of outworld couldn’t even manage to float a simple ball of water

Rain rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but focus on the way your hand is so warm on his shoulder

he takes another sip of his drink and tells you that you couldn’t have been perfect at wielding magic at first as well, and you smile and giggle

you tell him about how the first time you had wielded water magic, you had gotten mad at your mom for something frivolous and the sink in the kitchen had exploded during your tantrum

Rain doubles over in laughter, and he doesn’t realize how close he is to you until he opens his eyes and finds your face just a few inches from his

your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips, and his heart thumps in his chest

if he just leaned in a little closer, he would be kissing you

he whispers at you to tell him to stop if you get uncomfortable, and he raises a hand up to cup your face

you lean into the touch, and he dips his head down low to press a soft and quick kiss to your lips

you smile at him when he pulls back and ask with a smirk if that’s all he can do, you would’ve thought a mage with decades more experience would be more bold

Rain rolls his eyes and grabs onto the lapels of your shirt and smashes your lips together

you groan into the kiss and slide into his lap to try and get closer, and Rain presses his tongue into your mouth, desperate to taste all of you

you let him in, and you cup the back of his neck as your hips slowly grind into him

Rain can feel himself getting hard underneath you, and you seem to know it to because your other hand comes down and palms at his dick

he groans and pulls away to admire you

your chest is heaving, your lips are glossy, and your cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and the kiss earlier

Rain asks if you want to go further, and you jump up and drag him to his feet and tell him to take you to his bedroom

he smiles and quickly whisks you away to his bedroom, but it’s not quite so subtle with the way your giggles and his laughs echo in the high palace hallways and how your footsteps stumble all about the marbled floors

but finally, the two of you reach his bedroom, and he leads you to his humble bed

you fall onto the bed on your back, and Rain crawls onto the bed and kisses you again, weight atop of you and pressing his clothed cock into your hips

Rain grinds into you and moans into your mouth while his hands paw at your clothing clumsily, fingers not quite as deft with the alcohol running in his veins

you taste so sweet for him, and you can’t seem to get enough of him either with the way your hands claw at his clothes

the two of you pull apart, and Rain’s not quite sure what to do next honestly

but it seems you’re not too sure either because the two of you just lay on the bed, breaths mingling as your chests heave

Rain asks if you’ve ever done this before, and you let out a sigh of relief and say that you thought you were the only one

you then prop yourself up on your elbows and say you would’ve thought that since he’s so old that he would’ve had at least some experience

he ducks his head as his cheeks warm and says he was too busy focused on his studies to try and get with anyone

you laugh at him and call him a nerd, and he scowls at you

but you stop laughing eventually and wipe away a tear and say let’s take it slow

Rain nods and kisses you sweetly, before you pull away and say to get those damn robes off him, you want to see him in all his glory

he blushes at your lewd words, but when you start undressing as well, revealing your plush chest and toned legs underneath the uniform, Rain hurries to undress as well

the two of you throw your clothes onto the floor, and the both of you trace each other’s bodies with your fingertips

Rain can feel himself getting harder as your hands lightly brush over his arms, his chest, his stomach

and he can feel your impatience as well with the way you squirm underneath his warm hands squeezing your chest and your thighs

he kisses you again, leaning overtop of you, and you wrap your legs around his waist and grind your pussy against his cock

he moans into your mouth at the feeling of your wet pussy sliding against his, and he reaches a hand down to line himself up and push into you

you whine at the stretch and tell him to slow down, you need to adjust

little tears well at the edges of your eyes as you pant, and Rain peppers light little kisses over your face as he stays buried inside of you

he moans into your skin at the feeling of your warm wet cunt around his cock, but he keeps his hips still as he lets you adjust to the stretch

finally, you let out a whimper for him to move, and he gives an experimental thrust

you let out a little whine and throw your head back as you dig your nails into his back, and Rain groans at the feeling of your pussy tightening around him

his thrusts are slow and shallow at first, but as your whine grow needier, Rain’s thrusts gets faster and rougher until he’s fucking into you roughly

his hips make a wet slapping sound as they meet yours and bumps into your clit, sending little stars bursting through your vision

you moan as Rain re-angles his hips and his tip bullies against your sweet spot

your whimpers grow louder, and you scratch angry red lines into Rain’s back as he groans into your ear

you’re so tight and warm for him, and the little pleas you let out as he fucks into you has his mind spinning with pleasure

he captures your lips in a kiss, and you moan into his mouth as your cunt clamps down on him and you cum

Rain whines into your mouth, and his hips stutter as he cums inside of you

he lets his seed empty into your wet pussy and kisses you until you’re both breathless again

finally, he pulls out, and he lays down beside you

you can feel his cum dripping out of you, but you can’t really find it in yourself to care as Rain brings you close to his plush chest

you look up at him, and you can’t help yourself as you tell him that he didn’t do so bad for a old man

Rain scowls down at you and reaches his hand down to give a playful smack to your ass, and you wiggle your eyebrows at him, telling him jokes on him you liked that

Rain smiles and tells you next time, and you laugh and cuddle up next to him

the both of you fall asleep quickly, close together and in each other’s warmth

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sspiderliliess · 2 months

Text

diamond .

⟶ astarion x nervous, soft gn!tav — romance

i hyperfixated on bg3 for a while... i should get back to it. this feels like a bit of a word vomit and im still learning to express right but gosh i love emotional astarion stuff. (astarion and tav have a moment while they tend to his wounds | tav is gender-neutral but takes ideas from a female oc) ❤️‍🩹

⟶ rating — fluff?? suggestive at the end | tw blood, references to astarion's past

A tender flame danced. Outside, beyond the tent’s flimsy walls, rain poured for miles. The thriving forest floors squelched with a sea of puddles, the skies veiled with gray. But the pale crimson of the vampire’s tent was blooming with orange as the light within a lantern flickered across the walls and his belongings.

Trinkets left and right beckoned my wonder, chiseled figures and crackled books that showed their age placed atop the shelves and the indigo rug. In the dark, the gold gleamed and teased my vision. Against the petrichor and iron from his bleeding gashes, the faintest aroma of wisteria tickled my nose.

Ah, yes! The nighttime florals just nearby. I remember being so delighted that our group’s camping spot was placed so conveniently close to those lovely plants. Purple was a soothing color, and those wisterias could comfort me almost as well as any lavender-based remedy could.

It reminded me of Astarion, sometimes. My gaze wandered to the deep cuts across his leg, caked with drying blood and shining against the lantern’s light. The sight had been with me since it happened early in the day; a bundle of determined trolls could certainly leave their mark on someone—particularly three right across his calf and thigh. But sitting here, breathing in the smell of his blood that strengthened with every dab of the washrag, my stomach began to stir.

Either that, or his more notable nature came back to my senses. Had I really forgotten how regal he was after all of this? A magistrate, he said. Different circles, he said… I love you, he said. I’d spent a good time getting to know him and his quick-witted remarks. His irritable nature reared its head often, but something beneath the rough had always twinkled if I squinted just right. He didn’t have to take these hits for me. I knew my heart felt truly for him, but I didn’t know he’d be the type to do that so quickly.

“Darling, I don’t mean to be rude, but—ack—it’s just that this blood is finding its way all over my bedding. I could tend to this myself, you know?”

I turned my attention back to Astarion, who had propped himself up and was leaning my way with a hand reached for the stained rag. The gash on his thigh was oozing with blood, a thick trail pooling onto his blanket.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” I gasped and crawled forward to continue the cleansing.

He furrowed his brows, then raised them, and a smile etched onto his lips. “Now, for a vampire to get lost in thought at the sight of blood, I could understand… but what’s making you so bothered?”

“I’m,” I hummed. “I’m unsure.”

I tilted my head and continued to absentmindedly dab at the cuts. He laughed under his breath.

That familiar Astarion in his playful quips and egotistical humor. Those with a demeanor such as that rarely gained my attention for too long; I was always frightened by what judgments they might make, how out of place I felt. In the beginning when our group happened upon him, it’d bothered me quite a bit and I was sure he caught onto that, thus, I did what any mature person would have done when met with some sort of problem.

I ignored it.

The sly fox had taken note of this reaction. Maybe that was what got him to be nicer to me so quickly, less… prickly, especially in the times where I let him feed. But as I’d grown closer to him in our travels and had more meaningful conversations, I found him to be a book I might like to read, and the teasing came back on its own. I wasn’t bothered then. I might’ve enjoyed it. I still find myself thinking of that evening back near the grove, where he nearly choked at the teasing he threw my way when he saw the small and clumsily crafted animal in my hand. I told him how my mother had made those kinds of things with me, back in Baldur’s Gate when I was just a child and felt lonely, and his laughter stopped.

He seemed hurt by that. Regretful, almost. I'd like to think that turned out to be a nice day, though.

I was pulled from my gnawing thoughts once again as a slender finger slipped under my chin. Astarion looked less playful now, eyes glazed with what looked to be concern. He sat there in silence for a moment, staring at me until I felt my skin heat with blood and my heart tremble, and then he sighed. “Sometimes, I don’t know how to go about talking. It’s easy to flirt, to say things you don’t mean. But I would like to know what you’re thinking. Truthfully.”

He continued to hold my chin up with that single finger, his eyes almost pleading to listen and talk. It was the Astarion less familiar to most, and like a timid rabbit spoken to with the softest voice, I found myself being drawn closer right then and there.

“You told me a while back that you were a magistrate, a long time ago,” I began, awaiting his response.

He swallowed slowly and shuffled to make room for me on the bed. “I was, yes. I don’t remember much more than that. That life is so distant now, a pained memory of what was and what could have been, I suppose.”

He didn’t move aside from a mournful wince that I was sure had little to do with the physical state he was in. He laughed bitterly, “It’s funny to think about. I remember that simple fact, but nothing about me.”

It almost shocked me, the way he seemed to care so little about his old role. To be of such importance in Baldur’s Gate, to have such power over just about anyone before you… and yet, have it taken away in an instant. It threatened to sprout an ache in my chest—the thought of such a family and stability gone in the blink of an eye, power replaced with powerlessness. In the quiet and my dwelling, I understood him just a bit more. I could only wonder what happened to make the paths fall as they did.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Thank you for helping me today. We might not know who you were back then, or what happened before, or what you looked like, or what you knew… But I know you now. And I’m grateful.”

I’d always been so cautious with him, so much so I could hardly form the words properly. I pushed myself to keep my eyes on him, though, and I watched as he looked to the ground with a smile. Those crimson eyes appeared much glossier.

In that moment, I did what any confident, self-assured individual would do. My heart pounded against my chest the minute I leaned forward to gently wrap my arms around him. He paused briefly and I heard his breath hitch, but he returned the gesture.

“I’m grateful to know you, too,” he sighed into my ear.

His breath and curls tickled my neck, where old bites were planted. I’d forgotten they were there until his nose brushed against it and a dull pain bloomed in their place. He stayed like that for a while. “I know that I’m in no place to have a passionate night,” he said a bit awkwardly. “But I would like to spend what time with you that I can, if you’d like..?”

It took me a second to understand just what he meant, and I couldn’t help but pull away with tensed brows and a muffled giggle. “I don’t know if passion is the best idea, seeing as though you’re still bleeding as is.”

I pointed to the fresh puddle of blood on the blanket, where his leg had pressed into the furs. He scowled and pursed his lips, but his smile soon resurfaced. “Well, perhaps that another night, darling.”

He leaned back to lay down again and I grabbed the rag from the bowl of water, wringing it out as the dark reds faded to pinks again. It was then that I’d notice what sat opposite of me while I crouched on the ground. Tucked away from most prying eyes was a spindly little nick-nack on his shelf, with leaves and vines coiled together to make a deer-like toy that you’d think only a child could love. It was placed within a makeshift forest scene, crafted impressively from grass and sticks. It’d been a while since I’d seen it.

I didn’t think I would again.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #gn!tav #astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3

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george-weasleys-girl · 7 months

Note

Hellooo so I saw that your requests are open :D and I was wondering if you could do a Fred and fem reader with an angry love confession in the rain with prompt 4 and 15 of your fluff/angst prompts list please? No pressure at all only if you want to :)

This turned into quite the saga! Thank you for requesting it 💗

What Took You So Long?

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

~•~

The café buzzed all around them, but Fred sat motionless, staring across Diagon Alley at Y/N standing outside her little shop, chatting with a customer.

"Hey, mate," George said.

No response.

"Hey Fred," he tried again.

Again nothing.

"Freddieeee."

Still nothing.

"Earth to Fred. Come in, Fred. This is ground control to Major Fred."

"Huh, what?" Fred snapped out of his daze.

George rolled his eyes. "Are you gonna eat, or are you just gonna sit there and drool over Y/N all afternoon?"

"I'm not drooling!" Fred touched the corner of his mouth. "Am I?"

His twin shook his head and chuckled. "You know, if you're so in love with her, you should ask her out."

"I never said I was in love with her!" Fred looked horrified.

"Maybe not out loud." George said.

The older twin sighed and shook his head. Very little got past his twin. "I don't know..." Fred said. "We're friends. I don't want to make things weird between us."

"Suit yourself," George shrugged and dug into his lunch.

Fred heaved another sigh, returning his attention back to Y/N, who, when she noticed him, broke out into a brilliant smile and waved.

He gave her a quick wave in return and immediately turned his attention to his sandwich, worried that his face might spontaneously burst into flames at any moment.

~•~

Y/N and Fred had known each other since their Hogwarts days. They weren't really friends then, so much as friendly acquaintances. Fred had been too enamored with Angelina to actually notice her. Not that it would've mattered much anyway. Y/N had been involved with a Ravenclaw bloke for most of their school years.

All that changed after the war. Y/N opened a small perfumery on Diagon Alley and soon became a regular at the joke shop. Her oldest sister coincidentally had twin boys, and Y/N spoiled them to bits.

"My sister's gonna kill me," she'd told Fred, laughing, when he showed her their newest product, Whizzies, a less dramatic version of Whizbangs for the younger crowd.

"You know, we do sell Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder in case you need to make a quick getaway," Fred suggested with a mischievous grin.

"Hmm... that might be a good idea," she said, returning his grin and added the powder to her purchase.

Y/N returned a few days later to regale him with the results of her most recent purchases, which involved a few small explosions that set the sofa on fire, followed by her quick getaway. After she helped put out the fire, of course.

It didn't take long for Fred to fall head over heels for her.

~•~

That was a year ago. And he still hadn't worked up the courage to ask her out.

"Tell me the truth, Freddie," George asked him the night after seeing his twin's face turn beet red at lunch. "What's up with this woman? What happened to Mr. I Can Get Any Girl I Want?"

Fred shrugged. "He ran away the moment he realized how much he liked her. It scares me, George, how much I like her. What if we get together and I fuck it up like I did with Angie? I... I don’t think I can go through... that again."

Ah. George nodded and patted his brother's shoulder. It all makes sense now. Fred was devastated when things didn't work out with Angelina. Of course, in public, he played off like it didn't bother him. It was only when he and Fred were alone that his twin let the mask slip. George couldn't ask him to put his heart on the line like that again. Nor did he know if he could watch Fred go through that kind of heartbreak again. So, he let the matter drop.

~•~

Y/N had never really given Fred Weasley much thought when they were in school. She remembered him being cute and funny, and maybe a bit crazy. But her interests lay elsewhere at the time.

Things were different now, though. For one, she was single, and for two, Fred had grown up. He was still cute and funny and a bit crazy, but it was tempered now with a sense of responsibility. Whether that came from the war or being a business owner or a combination of both, she didn't know. But she would really, really like to. In truth, she would like to know everything about him.

She'd thought that maybe he liked her back. He'd certainly given off those vibes many times. But it'd been almost a year and nothing more than the occasional invites to lunch with him and George had happened. And whenever she suggested that just the two of them do something, he always had other plans.

Perhaps she was wrong, she thought. Maybe it was time to give it up before she broke her own heart.

~•~

"Y/N hasn't stopped by the in three weeks," Fred peered down at her shop from their usual table at the café.

"Maybe she's been busy," George shrugged.

"Yeah, maybe..." Fred mumbled, shifting in his chair to get a better view of the perfumery's entrance. If she stepped out, he'd decided he'd wave her over.

But she never did.

Fred hated feeling so vulnerable and confused. He was the man with the plan, but he had no plan for this. Y/N had never been far from his mind to begin with, but now, she was all he could think about. Every time the shop door opened, his hopes rose only to sink through the floor seconds later when he realized it wasn't her.

Is she ok? Is she just busy? Did I say or do something wrong? Is she angry at me? Should I try to go talk to her?

Fred had admitted to himself that he cared for her, but he didn't realize how much until she stopped coming around.

"She's all I can think about, George," Fred confessed one night while they were working on paperwork. "Everywhere I turn in the store, I see where she's been. I hear her laughter. Every new invention, I think of her and how much I want to show it to her. Does she not buy stuff for her nephews anymore?"

George sighed and watched his twin for a moment. "I've been debating whether or not to show you this," he pulled a document from his pile of paperwork. "Here's the list for all the mail orders for this past month. She's made two big mail orders."

Fred snatched it from his brother's hands. "Why are you just telling me this?!"

"I didn't know until a couple of hours ago when Michael gave me his compiled list."

"But... why?" Fred stared at the paper. "Did I do something?"

"I don't know, Freddie. I wish I did."

~•~

Another week passed.

Nothing. Not even a glimpse of her.

And then, it happened. Fred spied Y/N sprinting past the joke shop, no doubt trying to get inside before the oncoming storm burst. Without a thought, he raced out the door after her.

"Y/N!" He called out. "Wait up!"

She stopped and stared at him, the wind whipping her hair in every direction.

"Hey," Fred greeted her. "How are you?"

"I'm uh, I'm good..." She looked up at the dark clouds roiling above them.

"Yeah, yeah. That's good," Fred replied. "I just, um... I was worried about you. You haven't been by the shop in a month."

Thunder rolled in the distance, and the first droplets fell, pattering on the cobblestones.

"You stopped me because I haven't been to the joke shop??" She wiped away a raindrop that pelted her just above her left eye and shook her head. "I'm going, Fred."

"No, wait," he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Please, Y/N."

She whirled around. "In case you haven't noticed, the bottom is getting ready to drop out!" She gestured toward the sky.

"I know, I just," he stammered. "Are you mad at me?"

"What?" She actually looked shocked. "Why would I be mad at you?"

Fred threw his hands in the air. "I don't know!You tell me! You're the one making mail orders instead of coming into the store."

Another clap of thunder, this time closer, then lightening rent the sky above them.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Fred," Y/N wiped her wet hair away from her face. "I'm not mad at you, ok?"

She started to turn away, but Fred stopped her again. "Then why don't you come into the shop anymore?"

The rain was now beginning to soak into their clothes. "Why do you care?!" She snapped, the lightening in her eyes far more intimidating than any the storm could produce.

"I - I uh," Fred chewed his lip, rain dripping off his nose. "I miss you."

"You miss me??" A year's worth of frustration and disappointment boiled over and exploded out. "I'm just another fucking customer to you! It shouldn't make a difference whether I shop in the store or not. You're still getting my money!"

"Wh - I don't care about your money!" Fred stepped closer to her. "You're not just another customer to me! You're... you're..."

"I'M WHAT, FRED WEASLEY??" She raged. "WHAT THE HELL AM I TO YOU?"

"YOU'RE MY FAVORITE PERSON!" He yelled back.

Y/N blinked, her hands dropping to her sides, as all her anger melted away with the rain. "What..."

"You're my favorite person, Y/N," he repeated, softer. "And I miss you. I miss you so much. Everything reminds me of you. It's driving me insane."

She stood frozen in place, eyes riveted on the man before her for a few long moments. Then suddenly, she rushed toward him and caught her in his arms, their lips melding together, passionate and electric, matching the intensity of the storm.

"What took you so long?" She teased once they parted.

Fred chuckled. "I'm an idiot."

Y/N smiled and nodded, squinting against the sun now peeking through the dissipating storm clouds. "I don't know about you, but I'm soaked to the bone. And I'm starting to shiver a little."

"Well, we certainly can't have that," Fred pressed her tighter to him. "Your place or mine?"

"I'm thinking yours," Y/N said, peeking around him. "George is standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips, glaring at us."

"Oh right," Fred turned and waved. "I ran out and left him alone during the afternoon rush. I'm in big trouble now."

"Best we hurry, then," Y/N giggled and gave him one more quick kiss.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @smallsweetvanillabean @costheticbabe @charmedfandomgal @hanne-montana @rhunew @greenapplegrass @lizzytrees @spididerman @Havenater1920 @jelloangela @whotfskai @netflix-addict @lunacurlclaw

#fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #hp fandom #hp universe

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