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the-lonelybarricade · 11 months

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A Blaze in the Dark - (4/8)

Chapter Title: In From the Snow

Summary: On the eve of her wedding, knowing nothing about her husband besides his apparent disinterest in his soon-to-be wife, Elain uses a spell to meet her true love in her dreams.

A contribution to @elucienweekofficial Day 4: Courtiers.

Read on AO3 ・Series Masterlist・Previous Chapter

Elain had never struggled to sit comfortably in silence.

Silence had been expected of her since the moment she was born, when her mother would hand Elain and her sisters off to a nursemaid the moment they began to weep. Elain had grown up watching her father urge Nesta and Feyre out of his study when they couldn’t keep still, and she had learned that the trick to never being pushed away was to keep silent.

There was a weapon to silence. Unlike her outspoken sisters, Elain often traded speaking her mind for observing the world around her. It was easy to slip by unnoticed, putting people at ease in her quiet and unassuming nature while she pilfered their words and countenance for the truth they did not know they were revealing.

If you are going to speak, her mother used to say, then your words must not be empty.

Even then, there were rules to obey. Speak with purpose, but never too clever, never too bold. So Elain watched and observed and weighed every word to ensure it was dignified and poised. It was a meticulous effort, being perfect. Use wit and humor to be interesting, but not so much that she be deemed unserious. So Elain listened and observed so that she could disguise every word beneath the thin veneer of perfection.

She did not mind the silence, except that she found herself struggling to leverage it to her advantage when there was nothing to be won. No one to impress besides her indignant husband, who seemed intent on prolonging the silence as long as possible. It sat unbroken for hours, past hills and valleys and the endless seas of bluebells. It was only towards the end of the trip, when the sun was hanging low on the horizon, that it fractured from Elain’s lips in the shape of a startled, “Oh.”

Lucien raised his head, as if drawn from a daze. He blinked, eyes going first to Elain, then following her line of sight out the carriage window. A small laugh escaped him, before he rapped his knuckles against the wall that separated them from the driver. Elain heard the footman call out, and soon the steady clop of hooves slowed.

The carriage jerked to a stop.

“Go on,” Lucien said, nodding towards the carriage door.

Elain set her hand towards the bronze latch, then paused. Retreated. “Will it be cold?”

“Yes.”

“Will I like it?”

“Only you can decide that, Elain.”

“Do you like it?”

Rather than answer, Lucien began unfastening the buttons of his jacket, beginning to strip himself to his burgundy waistcoat and undershirt.

Elain, feeling a bit delirious, asked, “Do you intend to coax me from the carriage by threat of undressing?”

He only smiled. “Would it work?”

She might very well leave if only to escape answering that question truthfully. “At present, I’m not sure which unnerves me more.”

“My pride is relieved,” he said dryly. Once his fingers pushed the final button free, he slid the fabric gracefully off his arms and held it out to her in offering. “It will be cold,” he said. “You will be grateful to have this.”

Elain accepted it with exaggerated reluctance. It was heavy, still warm from his back.

“Will I be going alone, then?”

The question was partly a means of stalling and partly because she was too proud to ask him directly if he could come with her. But she wanted him to.

All he said was, “Put on my jacket.”

His eyes said the rest. They watched her, gold and russet burning with surprising authority. No more questions.

That tone of voice. It was command, laced with something warmer. Something that felt like drinking a glass of the amber liquid her father kept in his study. She felt the prickling heat on the back of her tongue, slowly slipping down. She pushed one arm through his jacket, then the next as a new warmth was spread over her. She was beginning to feel a bit woozy, not helped by the strong scent of the jacket and the overwhelming urge to tuck her face closer for a whiff.

“Good girl,” he said.

And she realized what that tone of voice reminded her of.

Open your mouth.

Elain was grateful for the way her breath hitched—smothering whatever embarrassing sound built in her throat. The metal latch bit into her skin by how hastily she grabbed it to shove the carriage door open, because suddenly what waited for her outside was much more inviting than examining why those two words evoke such an intense physical reaction when they came from someone other than her true love.

A cool breeze brushed against her flushed cheeks. Good, Elain thought, swallowing every freezing breath in large, greedy mouthfuls. She flexed her fingers, marveling at the strange bite of the air, and how quickly it was alleviating her racing pulse.

Elain pressed her foot tentatively to the carriage step, and her improper thoughts were quickly chased away by the anxieties of what awaited her. She was certainly wearing the wrong footwear, but any clothes that had been brought in preparation for the Eastern Kingdom were in the trunk at the back of the carriage. Really, how bad could it be if they were just stopping to look?

On the next clouded breath, Elain pretended that she was exhaling the timid voice inside saying: what if it doesn’t live up to your expectations?

Then she jumped from the carriage.

The snow crunched underfoot. Her mouth parted open in surprise. She hadn’t been expecting a noise. In her mind, she’d always imagined winter as a silent assassin. The frost brought death to flowers and trees and sometimes the living creatures that could not survive its harsh conditions. It was a brutal, unforgiving force of nature.

What Elain didn’t know was that the snow banks glistened in the low-hanging sunlight, reflecting the gold and pink of the sky above it. There were no chittering birds, no chirps of crickets or cicadas.

The world around them was entirely undisturbed. Tranquil, yet stagnant.

“What do you think?”

Lucien stepped down from the carriage, irritatingly dashing in his fitted waistcoat—which cut to his body tightly enough that she could mark the incline of his chest, how he was slightly slimmer at the waist. A playful wind danced against the billowing sleeves of his undershirt, which he was stretching towards Elain to offer his hand. She placed her fingers atop his, though she hadn’t the slightest idea why they needed to be holding hands.

“It’s so…” she glanced back over the landscape, surveying it for a word that could describe all she was feeling. “Unsettling.”

“How so?”

Elain tightened her hand on his as she took a careful step away from the carriage. He followed, clearly having no direction in mind with which to lead her, making the offer of his hand all the more curious.

“Everything is dead,” she said. “For miles and miles there is only cold, silent snow.”

“That is unsettling, I suppose,” he conceded.

“Yes, but that I was not finished.”

“Oh?”

Another step, further and further from the carriage she tugged him, where the snow became deeper, and she had to lift her skirts to venture forward. Already, she could feel the cold seeping through her stockings.

“There is no sound,” she said, “but the wind. And there is no soul around, but for you and I. There is no one here to observe us, no expectations to cater to but our own. I am left to confront my own existence.”

Lucien made a small sound of understanding. His fingers tightened. “Harrowing, indeed, one’s own existence.”

It was said like a joke, but she didn’t laugh.

“Do you ever think…” Elain trailed off. Would he even understand? She didn’t want to reveal something vulnerable only for it to be written off as ridiculous.

He squeezed her hand. “Go on.”

“It’s all so strict. The things we cannot say or do. There are so many words inside of me that have been smothered. Do you ever think that we spend so long curating these facades, that we forget ourselves entirely?” Elain scraped her eyes over the barren snow. “What I mean to say is, I scarcely know who I am when there aren’t others around to perform for.”

Wind picked up, gentle in speed but vicious in the chill it wrought against her exposed skin. Elain had never been so aware of her body before—how it tingled with the strangest burning sensation, one that she had always associated with heat. How curious, that the cold could burn.

Lucien, despite having surrendered his jacket, seemed unaffected by the weather. His free hand didn’t curl the same way hers did, attempting to protect her numbed fingers. Posture unguarded, he seemed to be welcoming the snow as he stared at her quizzically.

Having suffered in silence long enough, Elain said, “If you don’t agree—”

“I do agree,” he said. “I fear I know exactly what you mean.”

Oh. Voice soft, she asked, “Then why do you seem so puzzled?”

“I can’t figure out why I would be excluded.”

“From what?”

“The people you need to perform for.”

For a moment, Elain felt equally puzzled. That sentiment hadn’t been intentional, but… she supposed that was what she implied.

Lucien said, “I can’t decide if I should be flattered or offended. Is it because you feel comfortable with me, or because you find my opinion so detestable that you don’t care what I think?”

Either case seemed absurd, considering they’d only met that morning. And yet even from the first moment she saw him, before she had known he was Lucien Vanserra, she had felt strangely and uncommonly comfortable speaking her mind with him.

“You are my husband,” Elain said, as if that were a straightforward answer.

His lips quirked. “Detestable, then.”

“No,” Elain said, finding that his expression was making her feel lighter. “You are my husband, which means that it could be either, depending on the time of day.”

“What about now, then?”

She pursed her lips, turning away from the blushing horizon to marvel at Lucien. He was remarkably unflushed from the cold, but the pink and gold of the setting sun rested across his cheekbones as if nature were blushing for him. He was watching her with an attention Elain was not unaccustomed to. But there was a warmth to it, a gentle curiosity that didn’t make her feel overly self-aware. Instead, it made her feel… seen.

“Comfortable,” she said.

Lucien smiled, bright as the snow at their feet. He used their joined hands to tug her closer and, as if it were a dance, he raised his arm over her head to let the momentum spin her forward. The fabric of her dress was becoming heavier, sodden from the snow, but even so it twirled with the motion, dusting up the loose powder on the surface.

He caught her gracefully as she came out of the spin, dipping her so low that the tips of her hair scraped against the snow. There was laughter in his voice as he asked, “And now?”

“Detestable,” she said. With the way she was grinning, it was not a convincing assessment.

Lucien leaned closer. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

A challenge flickered in his eyes. “Do you want to see how destable I can be, Elain?”

Her good sense told her not to indulge. But Elain was feeling bold and lightheaded and wanted to see just how deep that mischief lay beneath the surface.

“Yes,” she said again.

With a cruel smile, Lucien dropped his hands. Elain barely had time to register what had happened before she plunged into the deep snow. She sunk through the surface, cold powder rising over and around her as she gasped, flickering belatedly between her surprise and anger.

Lucien peered over at her. He was smirking. “What do you think of the snow?”

It was much less pleasant to be encased in it, she thought agitatedly. Elain kicked out her legs, uncertain how to rise without getting her hands any colder. Lucien watched her struggle whilst looking far too proud of himself, and what was worse is that he seemed to find the situation more amusing the longer it went on.

“Do you need help?” He asked.

With a shriek, Elain grabbed at a handful of snow and lashed it towards him.

He chuckled. “That won’t persuade me to help you.”

Taking pity on her, he leaned over to extend a hand. She grabbed it. Then, with all the ferocity she could muster, she used her grip to tug him off balance. Lucien fell forward—nearly on top of her, if it weren’t for his hands quickly shooting to catch himself, braced on either side of her head. His hair fell into her face, a tangle of red silk that had her spluttering, thrashing her face inelegantly as she attempted to get it out of her mouth.

Lucien was too busy laughing to be any help. Elain was forced to reach up, collecting Lucien’s hair in a fist so that she could get it out of her face and, in doing so, peer directly up into Lucien’s. He was much too close. It was like being back on the altar, except now she could see the clouds of their breath tangle together.

Had he been breathing this quickly then, too? Or was that the adrenaline from falling?

“You know,” Lucien said. He was studying her face, attention flicking from her eyes to her cheeks. To her mouth. “Typically a wife reserves this sort of behavior for the bedroom. And I took you for such a modest lady, too.”

The joke sobered any thought she had of pressing their mouths together. Their position was certainly… compromising.

Elain flushed. “Praytell what opportunity I’d have for such behavior? From my understanding, you and I will be sleeping in separate rooms.”

The heat in Lucien’s expression died, too. He reached up to pry her hands out of his hair. “Cauldron,” he swore once his hands closed over her fingers. “You’re freezing.”

“You dropped me in snow!”

“An oversight,” he said, withdrawing easily from their position. This time when he offered his hand, Elain allowed him to pull her to her feet. “Come, let’s get you out of that dress before you catch a cold.”

She hesitated, looking down at the ruined hem of her skirt. Then back to Lucien. “You don’t mean…”

“Mother-forsake-me, of course I don’t mean now, Elain. Once you’re in the privacy of your own room. We’re nearly to the inn, we can make haste.”

Indeed, Lucien was already rushing towards the carriage, hardly a thought of the wife who had to bundle her wet skirts in her arms to keep up. She couldn’t help feeling that he’d emphasized your own room on purpose. It was their wedding night, and they would be staying in separate rooms, and she of course had known this.

Yet the reminder felt raw. Cold, somehow—like the snow and her limbs and Lucien’s changed demeanor.

He opened the carriage door for her, at least, offering a hand to help her climb inside. But he closed it forcefully enough that she jumped. Then he sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

Elain did her best to square her shoulders—a difficult task, now that her body had begun shivering. “About which part?”

“Dropping you in the snow,” he said. “I was being…”

Playful. She’d like it, until he’d withdrawn from her.

“Unkind.”

She snorted, turning her head towards the window to watch as the valleys of snow passed by. “I’ve heard a rumor that Prince Lucien possesses kindness in short supply.”

“A pity for his wife,” he agreed with a wry smile. “I’ve heard she is extraordinarily kind, and in future I will strive to reflect her kindness back on her.”

Until he proved it, it was all talk. Elain said nothing. She was not prepared to dignify his behavior with forgiveness just yet. Not when she was still trembling, and no amount of wrapping her arms around herself was helpful. The air in the carriage might have been warmer, but the cold still clung to her wet clothes.

“The inn is close by,” Lucien said. “But I can help warm you up, while you wait.”

Elain offered him a flat look.

“Oh, stop.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not like that.”

He stretched his hand toward her, flexing his fingers expectantly. Elain stared for a moment, before she cautiously placed her hand in his. Lucien shut his eyes. It’s what drew her attention to his face—initially because she found it odd, then because she realized she had an opportunity to survey him without triggering that smug, infuriating smile.

In its absence, she could freely admit that he was beautiful. Strong jaw and high cheekbones, Elain searched his face for any sign of King Beron—because surely, if she could look into Lucien’s face and see a glimpse of his father, that would be enough to temper the strange, fluttering feeling that gripped her each time she looked at him. But, fortunately or unfortunately, he was unique in his beauty.

His lips parted open, as though in concentration, and it was only then Elain actually paid any attention to what he was doing. His hand, wrapped around hers, was becoming warmer.

Elain stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“Warming you up.”

“How?”

“Magic.” She yanked her hand away, holding it protectively to her chest. Lucien’s eyes were open, now—wide and confused. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” She echoed. “Magic is…”

Well, forbidden is what she wanted to say. But that wasn’t the truth anymore. That was her father’s rule and now that she was no longer in Archeron manor… she didn’t know what magic was, anymore.

“It comes at a cost,” she said, echoing the familiar refrain of Nesta and her governess.

“Yes,” Lucien said patiently. “I’m paying it.”

“What’s the cost?”

“Energy. I’m going to heat up your hands and take a nice, long nap afterwards.”

“That’s all?”

He looked bemused. “Yes, Elain, that’s all.”

Slowly, she placed her hand back in his. Magic. To think he used it so casually, like it was nothing at all. She didn’t know how much she could press him on the subject. Could she ask about the true love spell without arousing suspicion?

Lucien hummed as though in afterthought. “Though I suppose I should mention that a curse may fall on your firstborn child, but that shouldn’t be a problem considering—”

“That’s not funny,” she snapped.

She knew he was teasing, because he’d been smiling. Now, he was studying her, as though it were shocking to him that she would have such a severe reaction to something he’d said so lightly. Elain could practically see him trace over his words, connecting them with the stern lines of her frown.

He winced, finally, like his meaning caught up to him. “You’re right, lady. It was not funny, and I apologize. All I mean to do is help you.”

Elain pulled her hand away, folding it into her wet lap. “I think I’ve had enough of your help today, your highness.”

She told herself that though there was remorse in his expression, that didn’t mean he was owed her forgiveness. To speak so tactlessly about having children when he was the one denying them to her… Elain thought she at least owed him the silence he had paid her for the majority of the day, when she had acted insensitively.

“Very well,” Lucien said, bowing his head to her. He looked pained. “We’ll be at the inn shortly.”

Soon enough, Elain was welcomed by the sound of the carriage wheels rolling over loose stone. They slowed to a stop, the horses whinnying as the lulling clop of hooves finally quieted. Elain was so frozen in her dress that she wasn’t certain she could have moved quickly if she wanted to. Lucien had no such excuse, but he still seemed to hesitate for a moment before exiting the carriage.

Elain ignored his outstretched hand. She didn’t care if she looked graceless climbing out of the carriage—her stiff and soaking dress would mean she looked graceless, regardless. Nevermind that she was still wearing her husband’s jacket, which was equally wet and hardly keeping her warm, yet she couldn’t find it in herself to return it. She would keep it, if only to be spiteful.

“Ho there!” A man came rushing out of the inn, clutching a handheld lantern which he raised to cast them in better light. When he caught sight of Lucien, he scrambled into a bow, “Your highness.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I request we make haste inside.” Lucien gestured to Elain. “The lady is freezing.”

“Certainly.” The man, who Elain presumed to be the innkeeper, fumbled at his breast pocket for a ring of keys before gesturing them inside. “Right this way.”

They followed him through a series of wood paneled hallways, then up a set of stairs. Lucien had to duck so as not to hit his head on the ceiling’s wooden beams. Elain, still cross, let herself smile at the idea that he might.

Her smile fell away when they stopped in front of one of the doors, and the innkeeper unlocked it for her. “This is your room, my lady. And his highness’s room is just down the hall.”

Elain glanced back at her husband, unsurprised but still disappointed.

“Enjoy your wedding night,” she said, frigidly, before walking into the bedroom and shutting the door.

Why not lock it, for good measure? It took more effort than usual, the key trembling in her fingers. Some warmth was returning to them, now, and she could feel each of them throb with their own tiny heartbeats. Maybe she would lock it later, once the footsteps faded. Elain rested her forehead against the door to listen, but all she could hear was her own heart splintering in her chest.

Alone. On her wedding night. It was a blessing, she assured herself, but that didn’t chase away the cold, lurching feeling of rejection. Maybe sitting in front of the hearth would.

She turned the key in the lock, listening to it click. The footman could deposit her trunk outside, or better yet, with Lucien. For now… for now she just had to get out of these Cauldron forsaken clothes. The ice leached all the way through, so Elain stripped herself bare before she settled atop the fur rug before the hearth.

The absence of the wet fabric was a relief. Whereas the absence of company… that still stung.

Elain angled her head towards the heap that had become of her dress and petticoats. She supposed she didn’t need to be alone. The innkeeper would likely be bringing dinner soon, but he could deposit it beside her trunk. She had no appetite in her state.

She wanted to pretend that it took her longer to consider it. That she waited there for hours deliberating over the morality of seeking the butterfly wings Nesta had given her. She wanted to have reservations, on her wedding night of all evenings, but it was horrifyingly easy to slip her hand into the pocket of her petticoat and withdraw the pouch of wings.

The only difficult part, really, was placing a bug’s wing in her mouth.

After that, it was only a matter of falling asleep. And waking to darkness.

Elain pressed a hand to the cool, silk sheets beneath her. A far cry from the fur rug she’d fallen asleep on. She wondered, briefly, where the dreams took her. Was it her old room from Archeron manor? Having never wandered further from the mattress, it was difficult to tell. But she didn’t think so. The feel of the bedding, the smell… it was different.

“You’re here?”

Thoughts of their location quickly abandoned, Elain scrambled to the edge of the bed, trying to peer in the direction of the voice.

“I’m here,” she said to the darkness.

“On your wedding night?”

The question caught her off guard. She faltered, uncertain how to answer.

“My apologies, lady, I didn’t mean to be insensitive. I only mean to say… I suppose I’m just surprised you came. A-are you okay?”

Elain pressed her lips together. She knew what he thought happened, and she supposed she should assure him that her husband had not forced himself on her. He was, in fact, not the least bit the monster that she had expected him to be. Would that be consoling to her true love, or the opposite?

“It’s been a long day,” she said. It was honest.

“I’m sure it has been.”

His footsteps echoed as he tentatively walked towards the bed. She had the sense he made them louder for her sake, so that she was not startled by his approach.

“Is… Please tell me, is there anything I can do?”

Elain was certain that he was close enough now she could reach out and touch him. She recalled how warm his touch had been last night. And the cold still clung to her, even in sleep. Was he capable of soothing it?

“Could you just—hold me? Please?”

Though she had tried to maintain her composure, her voice cracked involuntarily on the please. And maybe the snow had turned her brittle, because that small crack was all that she needed to break. Elain pressed her hand to mouth, trying desperately to smother the sob building in her throat. She hadn’t wanted to come here to cry.

“Of course I can.” He sounded distressed. By her voice, or something else? “I’m going to touch you now. Is that okay?”

Elain nodded, but of course he didn’t see.

“Sweetheart, please. You need to tell me ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

Answering him meant removing her hand from her mouth. She didn’t want to speak—she didn’t trust her voice not to crumble. If she spoke, then the tears would surely come, and she wanted to fight them off as long as possible.

“In here, my love, you only get touched on your terms. If you can’t speak, why don’t you grab my hand? I’m standing right in front of you.”

With her free hand, Elain reached blindly into the dark. It didn’t take long to find his waiting hand—warm, like she remembered. Gentle.

“Good,” he said. “Now, do you want me to get on the bed with you? Squeeze once if you do, twice if not.”

She was already feeling calmer just from the way he was speaking to her. In all of her bouts of emotion over the years, no one had ever braced them with such patience. Such… kindness. Elain lowered her hand from her mouth. Her voice crackled as she said, “I’d like for you to get on the bed.”

“Ah, she found her voice. I’m glad.” The bed shifted slightly beneath his weight. “And if you ever feel like you can’t speak while we’re in here, just remember: one squeeze for yes, two for no.”

“Thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for. Do you want to lie down together?”

She searched the question for any underlying meaning. It had been nice when he’d touched her yesterday—more than—but if that was what he was offering, she wasn’t certain that was something she wanted. Not tonight.

It seemed like he responded best to honesty. “I don’t want to… to…”

“Of course not,” he said. “I won’t touch you anywhere unless you explicitly ask me to.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

He moved himself further onto the bed. She could feel the weight shift towards the middle, where he’d presumably stretched himself out, head against the pillows as if they would be going to sleep.

“Come here,” he murmured.

It was a tedious game not to accidentally nudge him somewhere delicate as she crawled towards him, feeling ahead with her hands. She gently patted his stomach, then his chest. It felt oddly catlike, pawing her way to lay down, though she could only hope she had half the grace of a feline as she laid herself down beside her true love, head resting against his steady heart.

“There,” he said. His arm came around her shoulders and he began rubbing slow circles against her back. “We can stay like this as long as you want.”

“Forever?”

It was a suggestion filled with melancholy, since they both knew that regardless of any promises made here, in the morning they would have no choice but to be ripped from each other all over again.

“Forever,” he said back.

Because what was a lie, when the truth would only break their hearts? And what was forever, when between the measly hours of dawn and dusk, she could listen to her true love’s heart beat in time with her own? Forever was overrated, anyhow.

#elucienweek2023 #Elucien #Elucien fic #Elucien fanfiction #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain #Blaze in the Dark

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queen-scribbles · 4 months

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It’s Cold Outside

*shows up four five years late with the follow up fic to Let It Snow* HOLY COW, it’s finally done! \o/ Cribbing another Christmas song for the title bc I think I’m funny(especially bc the way this plays out is... pretty much the opposite of the song xD) ---- The snow had reached Brighthollow’s first floor windows and was still coming.

“Okay, I like snow, but this is getting ridiculous,” Adela commented, staring out the window. “It’s not as fun once it passes knee-deep. Then it starts being annoying.”

Heodan looked up from his book and smiled, “For growing up somewhere you said doesn’t get a lot of snow, you certainly seem to have strong opinions on it.”

“We don’t get a lot,” she said with a confirming nod. “That’s different from not getting any.” She raised an eyebrow pointedly in his direction.

“Adi, I have no strong opinion on snow,” he pointed out. “Cold in general I’m not overly fond of, but snow I don’t really care one way or the other.”

Adela grinned and crossed to flop on the couch near the fire, noting his chair was even closer to the warmth. “This an Aedyran thing?” she teased, folding her legs under her. “Increased sensitivity to cold?”

It was Heodan’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “We don’t all have fur, Adi.”

Her ears twitched as she laughed. “Touché. And I do know what Aedyr’s like. Aloth’s probably thanking the gods for thick stone walls right about now.”

“And fireplaces,” Heodan added.

“I think we’re all grateful for those.” Adela shifted, pulling her knees into her chest and resting her chin atop them. “No matter how adjusted we might be to the cold.” She smirked at a memory. “Even when you’ve had bad experiences with them a couple times....”

Heodan closed his book and leaned forward. “Do I want to know the story prompting that smile?”

“Oh, it’s nothing bad, and only slightly embarrassing.” She picked at the engraving lines on her necklace. “Ben, my oldest brother, is a baker, and he experiments with other cooking stuff in his free time. He’s really, really good, too. But, y’know, with him liking to cook and spending so much time around fire--ovens and fireplaces both--stuff’s bound to happen.” She bit back a smile at the Uh-oh in Heodan’s eyes. “The week before he got married, he singed off his eyebrows and half the fur on one arm b’cause he dropped a pot and leaned to pick it up without checking how close to the fire it was. He wasn’t hurt, but the kitchen smelled like burned hair for three days and me an’ Sirra teased him about it for months.”

He chuckled. “Poor Ben. What did he do to deserve such a scamp of a sister?”

“Oh, he gets me back,” Adela assured him wryly. “He calls me Cricket when he’s annoyed at me, b’cause I’m always getting cricks in my neck from reading for too long in one position.” She hugged her knees closer and bit her lip. “How ‘bout you? Any mildly embarrassing stories about your brothers?”

Heodan smiled as he pondered, fingers drumming the cover of his book. “A few... Before the family business picked up and started making decent money, Gyran and Lyam had to share a bedroom. One time when they were teenagers, Lyam walked in without knocking and caught Gyran and Lydia in the middle of what turned out to be their first kiss.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no.”

He shook his head. “I’m not finished. Lyam made some smart comment--none of them ever shared what, exactly, he said--and Gyran spent the next ten minutes chasing him around the house with the express intention of tossing him out a window.”

Adela giggled, looking into the fire. “I think I’m with Gyran; first kisses are awkward enough without an accidental sibling interruption.”

He moved from his chair to the couch and raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “That sounds like the voice of experience.”

“With first kiss awkwardness, yes,” she admitted, face hot from more than just the fire. “Thankfully not with sibling interruption making it worse. I would also have thrown them in a pond or out a window. Fortunately, it was under circumstances where interruption was unlikely.”

“Oh?” No sooner had the word left his mouth than Heodan blushed and shook his head. “Sorry, I’m not.... not trying to pry.”

“It’s alright,” Adela laughed. She tucked loose hair back behind her ear. “It was a typical teenager thing” --she waved a hand vaguely in his direction-- “like your brother. Only mine was just a boy from school I’d been sweet on. I found out he was sweet on me, too, when we were working together researching Old Vailia for a history assignment. We needed a lot of old books and such that were in the back part of the library, very musty, a little creepy, where most people didn’t go unless they had to. Toward the end of our research, Xen said he thought I was very smart--and very pretty, and asked if he could kiss me.” She smiled and bit her lip. “After giggling like an absolute idiot for several seconds, I said yes and he did. I was so happy and flustered, I almost forgot my books when I went home.” She sighed, rubbed her elephant pendent. “Unlike Gyran and Lydia, nothing ever came of it, though.”

“Why not?” Heodan sounded almost indignant on her behalf, which made her heart flutter.

“Oh, it wasn’t by his choice,” she said with a rueful smile. “There was a rash of illness that worked its way through our town, and since his father was a priest and his mother was an herbalist, and orlans are responsible for all wrongs that befall folk, clearly it was their fault. They got run out of town. Despite protests from many, orlan and folk, that they were helpers and healers and would never hurt anyone. Prejudice is a powerful influence, and it won out. The illness continued sweeping around for another month and then died out on its own.”

“Well, that’s terrible,” he said, brow furrowed. “Did anyone apologize for the incorrect assumption...?”

“No, they all found ways to justify being suspicious, or pointed out there was no one to apologize to since Xen’s family had left....” Adela chuckled a little at his affronted expression. “Heodan, that’s the way it works for orlans pretty much everywhere. In fact, Necazoa was one of the better places in Ixamitl. Which is better than a lot of other places, like the Dyrwood.” She reached over and squeezed his knee. “Not everyone is as nice and accepting as you.”

That’s part of why I like you, she added to herself.

He made a noise of reluctant concession and gave her a wry smile. “According to you, my being so nice is why I’m here, all the way across the ocean, rather than one of my brothers.”

“I’m still allowed to be glad you’re here, even being pretty sure you got the short straw because you wouldn’t tell your family no,” Adela said with a laugh.

Heodan studied her face for a moment, gleam of firelight dancing in his eyes. “Who says I see it as the short straw?” he asked. “I like it here, Adi. I’m glad I met- all of you, got to have a bit of adventure--”

“Even if more than originally planned?” she cut in wryly.

“Even so.” He flexed the hand of his injured arm and smiled. “My nephews think I’m just about the most interesting person in the world, according to Gyran’s last letter.”

“Oh?” Adela smiled, playing with the tail of her braid.

“You, of course, are the most interesting, since you’re the leader,” Heodan clarified with an answering smile, which made her laugh.

“Well, you can tell them I’m flattered,” she said. She let her legs relax down, feet dangling over the floor, and shivered a little even if the fire was plenty warm. “You write your family about me, huh?” she teased, even as the thought made her insides do a funny little flip.

Was it her imagination or did his face go slightly pink at the needling? The firelight made it hard to tell. “They like to hear what I’m doing. You’ve been there for... everything since Echo Bay,” Heodan teased back. “It would be difficult not to mention you.”

Adela giggled, then winced. “Did they worry about the, um, gap? After Cail?” After you almost died.

He shook his head. “I had written right before we went to Searing Falls. By the time I needed to write again, I’d recovered enough to do so.”

“Did you tell them about--”

“Fighting a drake? Yes. How badly that ended for me? No. I didn’t see a point making them worry from a thousand miles away. Especially since by that point I was on the mend, and-” he reached over to flick her bangs out of her eyes “-I’m fine now.”

She supposed she saw the sense of that. There were few better things than hearing (or reading) ‘by the way, I almost got killed fighting a drake, but I’m alright now’ to give parents an anxiety attack. And she was careful with phrasing in some of her letters home, even without any calls that close herself. “So if you ever go home to visit, or they come here, they get to just be surprised you have an arm that doesn’t fully work anymore and some dashing new scars?”

Heodan arched a brow at her for the last bit of the glib comment. “I’ll worry about that when I need to, Adi,” he said, glancing toward the window. “I think our current worry needs to be sleeping arrangements.”

She hadn’t even realized how dark it was getting. The overcast sky and still-falling snow had thrown her off. “Did you have any thoughts?” she asked, standing on the couch to peer out the window and try to gauge how how late it was.

“If you have a spare quilt or blanket--or both--” he gave a self-deprecating laugh-- “I can sleep right here--”

“No!” Adela cleared her throat. “I mean, yes, there’s plenty of blankets and quilts, in the others rooms if not here, but.” She turned and crossed her arms, eye level with him thanks to standing on the couch. “The bed is more than big enough for two kith, Heodan.” Especially when one’s my size. “We can each wrap in separate blankets if you’re worried about propriety” --Not that I think you’d do anything-- “and this is not a terribly comfortable couch for sleeping on. So unless you truly want to sleep this close to the fire...?” She arched a brow, waiting, and Heodan just shrugged. “We’re both sleeping on the bed.”

He chuckled. “Far be it from me to resist such a passionate argument. You win, Adela. Where are the blankets?”

“There’s some in the closet, but those are mostly the out-of-season ones; the lighter spring duvets or sheets. One of us might do better to raid one of the other bedrooms.”

Heodan pushed to his feet. “Let me go see...”

Adela hopped down from the couch as he walked from the room and banked the fire so it would burn down slowly and keep them warm as long as possible, while still being safe through the night. Then she went to the closet and dug out the satchel of preserved foodstuffs she’d kept for snacking purposes before they relocated to the warmer--sturdier--keep for the winter. When she left it here she figured it would be for days using the room for peace and quiet, not because she got snowed in. But it was still good and that was all that mattered.

Heodan returned with three blankets piled in his arms. “I figured it would be easier to partially remake beds than fold things right to go back in storage.”

“And I’d agree with you on that,” she said with a laugh. “Dinner is gonna be like camping, I’m afraid.” A gesture at the jerky, dried fruit, and nuts from her stash.

“Only much better protected from the elements.” He dropped the blankets on the bed and joined her to eat. “I guess we need to be careful, since we don’t know how long we’ll be in here?”

Adela wrinkled her nose and glanced out the window. “Probably. Though if it gets too dire we can try for the main keep...”

Heodan followed her gaze with a dubious look. “Adi, it’ll be drifted higher than your head by morning. I’d have to carry you.”

“That’s why I said if it gets too dire.” She chewed on a handful of nuts, her heart doing a little flip at the thought of him carrying her. “Long as we’re alright, better to stay put and hope it clears up.”

He nodded and they finished in silence.

Silence that gave Adela time to actually think about what she’d insisted on in a blaze of impassioned indignation. You are not sleeping on the couch. They would both be on the bed. She and Heodan would be sharing the bed. He’d be right there.

Oh, stop it, Adi, she scolded herself. It’s not the first time.

But Gilded Vale had been a lifetime ago; her crush a small and flickering thing rather than a blaze in her chest. Even with them bundled individually in blankets, she wasn’t sure how well she’d sleep with him so close.

She counted her bites, chewing slowly. Not delaying. Lost in thought. How to act normal.

Heodan picked up on something from her behavior. “Adi, if you’re not comfortable sharing, I really w-”

“No! No, it’s fine.” She was hot enough to wonder if her fur was singed. “Just lost in thought. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Because you just said it’s fine twice in as many sentences.”

“B’cause it is, I promise.” She stood and brushed crumbs off her dress, giving him a teasing smile. “I’ll even let you have the side closer to the fire; I know how you Aedyrans are about cold. And I have fur.”

He sighed but looked convinced. “If you’re sure.”

They each selected blankets and bundled themselves up in addition to the warm green and white quilt on the bed.

“I apologize in advance if I steal the blankets,” Heodan said with a sheepish chuckle. “Just know it’s unintentional.”

“Noted,” Adela laughed. “And I forgive you in advance. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

They settled in, back to back with a small gap between them, and silence fell as they tried to get to sleep.

“Heodan?” Adela mumbled after a few minutes, only half-awake.

“Mm?” He sounded even more asleep than she was.

“If you finished that s’pply order you were workin’ on, I can just take it to Defiance Bay when I go for the hearings. Y’don’t need to bother a courier.”

There was a long pause, probably him wondering what made her think of--and bring up--the matter now. “We’ll see. It’s not bothering them if it’s their job.” The mattress creaked, as if he turned to look at her, but she was still facing the wall. “B’sides, I don’t think anyone’s going anywhere for a bit.”

“True.”

This time, the silence remained as it settled over them, and it wasn’t long before she heard his breathing deepen in sleep. It didn’t take long for her to follow suit.

---

It was warm when she woke. Warm and dark.

Adela blinked and rubbed her eyes and quickly figured out the dark part was thanks to burrowing almost completely under the blankets. Warm took a moment longer to register--she was curled in a ball against Heodan’s back.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise; she was inclined to seek out heat sources in her sleep. But under the circumstances, it had her bolting upright, blinking herself awake with heart pounding furiously.

“Morning,” Heodan said, voice rife with amusement.

Oh, wonderful, as if this wasn’t embarrassing enough, he was already awake. “Mornin’,” Adela mumbled around a yawn.

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?” he asked as he rolled on his back. He seemed perfectly happy to stay ensconced in the blankets and looking up at her.

“...I have been told that, yes.” She raked her hair out of her face. She’d forgotten to take out her braid last night and it was in shambles right now. “I don’t suppose I said anything useful, like unsnarling that spell composition that’s been giving me and Aloth fits for a week straight, did I?”

Heodan chuckled. “Not that I heard. Mostly gibberish, with what I think were your siblings’ names occasionally thrown in?” He gave her a searching look. “But it was normal gibberish, so... no Watcher dreams?”

It hit her like a thunderclap as soon as he asked. “No.” They’d been getting worse (Edér shaking her awake, joking about buckets of water worse) for a couple months, and they’d left her alone last night. “You must be magic,” she teased, which made him snort a laugh as he sat up.

“Hardly.” Heodan stretched, shaking free of the blankets. “Does that mean you got a good night’s sleep?”

She nodded, undoing her braid to replait. “For once. Sorry that I, uh, got in your space.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” he said with a reassuring smile. “The extra warmth was nice, once the fire started dying.”

“Oh!” Adela tied off the half-done braid and scrambled over him, out of bed, to stoke the embers back to life.

Heodan had made it out of bed by the time she succeeded, his focus out the window. “Still snowing,” he commented, nodding that direction.

“Wael’s eyes, really?!” She followed his gaze to see yes, really. “We’ll be here a while, then, I suppose.”

“At least we have plenty to do,” he said with a smile. “And you’re good company.”

“See if you still think that when I go stir-crazy,” she deadpanned. Which might be by the end of the day, depending on if I find interesting enough books. “But you are, too. Good company, I mean.”

His smile widened as he retrieved food for breakfast and her heart skipped a beat in response. Good enough she had no idea how--or if--she was going to keep certain things from spilling into the open.

But it looked like she was about to find out.

#queens fic #adela tecali #heodan #pillars of eternity #heodi #otp: here in my heart #stars rewritten au #aaaahhhhhhhhhhh i'm so happy it's done #this has been sitting in my drafts and haunting me for so long #i thought about it on a weekly basis #I'M FREE #THEY'RE ADORABLE #also ps adi babe i think he might be onto you

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z-h-i-e · 4 months

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Could you write a Galadriel/Celeborn piece about them in Doriath with supportive Lúthien and Melian? (Also I really liked your sympathetic Thingol piece!)

Sure I can! (I can write anything! Proven with that Glorfindel/Balrog piece I can never unsee.)

I have a soft spot for Celeborn–you know it, I know it, his wife knows it (gave me the title of Homewrecker of Lorien, you know). But, because I love Elrond/Celebrian so much, and I know there’s no Celebrian without Celeborn/Galadriel, I guess I’ll go with a schmoopy romancey story for them. Anyhow, I tend to go with a timid Doriath Celeborn with a stutter when he’s nervous, and that is who showed up for the muse casting call today. Enjoy! (Also, no wonder we don’t get Sindarin version of Nerwen from Tolkien – Nerwen was bad enough. Read on…)

---

“Good afternoon, Celeborn.”

“Good afternoon, Princess Luthien.”

The two happened to come around the same corner of one of the florist stalls set up in the courtyard market. Walking in opposite directions, Celeborn was intently inspecting the blooms in the baskets that lined the stall; he would have walked right into Luthien, had she not been the more attentive of the two and stepped safely aside.

“I see you have selected some of the more vibrant flowers they have here today. What is the occasion?” asked Luthien.

Celeborn tried not to blush, and failed miserably. “I happen...to have...a meeting tonight...with a friend...for dinner.” The words stuttered out, each phrase from the young scribe a little softer than the former.

Luthien smiled. “It must be a special dinner if you are bringing flowers. Or are you hosting a party?”

Celeborn shook his head. “N-no. No party. Just myself...and a...friend.”

Luthien leaned down to sniff one of the orchids Celeborn was clutching. He had also selected lilies and hydrangeas. “Your friend must like large flowers.”

“I...do not...know?” He bit his lip and looked down shyly. “Truth told,” he whispered, “this is more of a…social engagement…of a…romantic nature.”

“And you have chosen orchids?” wondered Luthien. “She must like the bright and the bold.”

Again, Celeborn chewed at his lip. “I am not...not sure?” His shoulders slumped and he whispered, “I am doing my best. I d-do not have a sister, and m-my brother said I am...reaching...too high.”

Luthien stepped beside Celeborn and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I have an idea! I can help you shop! I have no brother, so this will be fun–for both of us! Of course, you will have to tell me who she is, so I can help.”

Red flushed Celeborn’s cheeks again. “She is j-just about the prettiest g-girl I have ever seen.” He swallowed audibly. “D-do you know Princess Dirgwend of N-nargothrond?”

“Oh, yes!” Immediately Luthien cringed and looked over the flowers Celeborn was clutching. “Oh, no.”

“N-n-n-n-no?” Celeborn frowned. “You think I am t-t-too far b-beneath her, too?”

“No! I think, honestly, you are such a gentle person, and thoughtful, and kind, and brilliant–because she is as sharp as a hound’s tooth–I think she is lovely and you would be a lovely match!” Luthien grimaced and slowly extracted a hydrangea from Celeborn. “Ah, this, though…” She caught sight of someone in the crowd and lifted the hydrangea above her head. “Ulli!”

Melian was only five or six meters away, and smiled at her daughter, standing beside the youngest of the library scribes.

“Ulli, akaeί akablanditiae tαdιχαόου mūαtheteυόmūeνος” called out Luthien.

“Oh!” Melian approached with a approving look on her face.

Luthien held up one of the flowers. “akaόχοtte akadίν aū iniðel”

“Ooooh.” Melian clasped her hands together and slowed her steps as she approached. “I seeeeee.” She stopped in front of them and appeared to analyze each flower separately. “May I safely assume this is your first time arranging flowers?”

“Y-yes, your majesty.”

“And may I safely assume you wish to make a positive impression on our visiting diplomat?”

Celeborn nodded. “I need help,” he said sadly.

Luthien was already pulling the bountiful bouquet from his hands. “Are you familiar with roses, Celeborn? I believe I saw some lovely peach and pale pink varieties around the corner.”

Artanis calmly picked up her gloves from the desk as she heard the knock upon her door. She made sure to have them on and took one more look at her hair in the mirror and waited a moment more until there was a second knock before she opened the door.

Before her stood Celeborn, holding an exquisite collection of roses, carnations, and delicate buds, a swirl of white and pastels. He held them out to her. “Good evening. May I...present you with this...small token of affection?”

With lips pressed together to mute her grin, Artanis took the flowers and sniffed them experimentally. “These are lovely.”

“I picked them out m-myself,” he said, and then added, “With help...f-from some…f-friends.”

Artanis sniffed them again to hide her next smile. “My brother always says it is a wise man who knows when to ask for aid.” She peered over the flowers at the tall, lanky scholar who was trying not to appear nervous, but the fidgeting of his hands while they were hidden in his sleeves gave him away.

Yes, he was as sweet as Luthien had said, and as kind as Melian told her. Her brother had hinted to her that while his time in Middle-earth would be one of solitude, that he did not see that for her, but no suitor would she find in Nargothrond. It was part of why Artanis chose to spend so much time in Doriath (though her studies more than filled most of the time).

There were many occasions when Artanis had asked for assistance from Celeborn when she visited the library. There were many scribes there, all willing to help, but something seemed to draw her instead to the shy one who insisted on carrying books for her, holding the door, or retrieving more ink for her any time the well ran dry.

She still played coy when he finally gathered the courage to ask her to dine with him. He nearly took it as a rejection, the poor dear. She decided he deserved a token himself, for his good behavior. “Would you like to come in while I put these in a vase?”

“Yes, I would. Th-that would be very kind of you,” said Celeborn.

Yet he remained standing on the doormat while Artanis walked to a cabinet. “Are you going to come in, then?” she asked.

“Y-you only asked if I should like to. I did not...wish to...assume.”

Artanis smiled with her back turned. “You may come in, if you like.”

Celeborn took a deep breath and stepped just inside of the suite.

Artanis turned, and studied him with amusement as she carried the vase with the flowers to a table. “You have chosen to leave the door open,” she observed.

Celeborn gave a quick nod, and said, “I shall not have anyone question your honor, and so, in-in lieu of a chaperone, I f-feel it appropriate.”

The vase was placed on the table. While Finrod had encouraged her to seek out true love, her other brothers seemed wary that she might become entangled with a less than savory courier in the kingdom. Celeborn was clearly anything but. He would more than do.

“Shall we dine?” asked Artanis as she came to stand beside Celeborn.

He offered her his arm, which she took, and after the door was closed, the two walked down the hallway together, both a little nervous, both a little excited, neither noticing Luthien spying from around the corner.

Notes:

I had to fuss around with Valarin, mainly ‘making shit up’, because if you think that Khuzdul and the Black Speech are limited, you haven’t met fucking Valarin yet.

I put my research goggles on, found references about Valarin being a sexy mix of Latin and Greek, so I came up with some words for Luthien and Luthien’s mom.

Ulluiός : Water Parent (I didn’t think Luthie would be using ‘mom’ and ‘dad’. I also thought about it, and with how the Ainur are, even the mom and dad thing seems not quite right. So I came up with this concept of, there’s a water parent, and a fire parent. In this case, Melian was the water parent.)

Of course we can’t have Luthien using the full ass version, so ‘Ulli!’ sounds way more like a title an Ainu kid would call their parent.

There are two sentences, and before we get to the ‘what is it supposed to mean’, I have a lot of thoughts about Valarin, and how the sentences are open ended at the start and end, that the Song of Creation at the beginning of the legendarium is a loop, and that language for the Ainur is woven in and out of the song, and there’s no capitalization unless the first word is a proper noun and there’s no punctuation unless there is a question but that does not mean the question mark has to go at the end. A little language chaos. So! Now that you know that, here’s those two sentences, keeping in mind, I spent more time figuring out these two sentences than I did the rest of the story, and yes, it’s shit I made up because Tolkien didn’t leave us a lot of Valarin words, and what he did leave is shit he made up. So let’s all go make up some Valarin words mashing Greek and Latin together until it sounds good or at least looks impressive enough to be spoken by the Valar.

akaeί akablanditiae tαdιχαόου mūαtheteυόmūeνος - Celeborn is courting your apprentice

akaόχοtte akadίν aū iniðel - He intends to give her lilies

And I find it perfectly reasonable that Luthien shouts this across a market to her mom because the two of them are the only two people who can speak the language who are in that vicinity.

#celeborn/galadriel #luthien #melian #doriath #silmarillion fanfiction

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giggly-squiggily · 2 years

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Demon slayer fanfic lee tanjiro getting attack by his siblings ;)

Cute!!! I've gotcha covered, friend! :D

Cloud 9 (Taglist):

@myreygn, @thatbigbisexual29, @duckymcdoorknob, @wolfyeatstacos, @gladdygirl18, @baby-tickles2022, @cupcake-spice13 @backy-san

“Tahahahhanjiro, dohohohohn’t!” Takeo squealed as he twisted and turned beneath his brother, slapping at his hands weakly. “Sthahahap tihiiihihckling mehehehhe!”

“Are you gonna be nicer to Hanako?” Tanjiro asked, grinning when Takeo nodded vehemently. Finally satisfied, he stood back as his brother collapsed, gasping for breath. “There- now; be nice.”

“Shehehee started it!” Takeo grunted with a weak glare, letting his brother help him up. “Why do you always take her side?”

“I don’t. The other day I got her for giving you a hard time. I’m just balancing out the scales.” Tanjiro hugged his brother, ruffling his hair. “I love all of you equally- and I’ll gladly tickle you all just as so.” He gave his brother’s ribs a scratch, making him squeak and duck away.

“One day we’ll get you!” Takeo declared as he stood, pointing determinedly at Tanjiro. “We’ll get you back for all the tickle attacks!”

“Sure you will.” Tanjiro puffed out his chest, raising his chin gleefully as he wiggled his fingers. “I’m the best tickler of all the Kamados! No one can stop me!”

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” Nezuko’s teasing voice called out from the back, Shingeru and Hanako smiling on either side of her when Tanjiro turned around. “Last time I checked, I’m the best tickler in the Kamado family.” Her eyes danced with playful challenge, making her family giggle. “Are you sure you want to keep that title, brother?”

Tanjiro weighed his options. It was true Nezuko could be rather relentless; but in their own tickle fights he’s had his fair share of wins against her. “I would, actually.”

“Ooooooooh.” The younger siblings gasped, smiling behind their sleeves as they waited for their sister’s response. Nezuko made a show of rolling up her sleeves, eyes dancing.

“You’re brave, brother. Very brave. But completely reckless.” Nezuko grinned before gesturing Takeo over, gathering all their younger siblings and whispering to them. Tanjiro watched their little huddle fondly, mentally preparing for all the chaos coming his way.

“Prepare yourself!” Nezuko didn’t hesitate, immediately charging at her older brother with the intention of winning. Tanjiro, having years of practice, was prepared. As she came into arms length, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down, fingers finding the ticklish spot just beneath her ribs. “Ah! Nohohoohohohoho waiihihihihiit!” She squealed, crumbling instantly.

“What was that about being the best tickler of the Kamados?” He teased, grinning when she tried to swat at him.

“Kihihihihihids, gehehehehet him!” She cried through her giggles, the swatting turning into a wave as she called upon their siblings.

“Here we come!” Hanako led the pack, running towards her brother and hugging him around the shoulders. Takeo let out a roar as he grabbed an arm while Shingeru grabbed a leg, giggling softly.

“Ha! You guys really think you can take me?” Tanjiro teased as he twisted around, grabbing Hanako and giving her sides a squeeze, making her squeal.

“Nohohohoohoho! Sahahahahhave mehehehehehe!” She cried.

“Hang on Hana-Gah nohhohohot agahhahahahahin!” Takeo yelped when Tanjiro got both of them, pulling them into his lap as he scribbled into their bellies. “No fahahhahahahir!”

“Yes fair! You two wanted to play, so let’s play!” Tanjiro grinned cheekily, reaching out a hand and giving Shingeru’s neck a wiggle, making him duck away and laugh. “Get ready!”

“Gotcha now!” Nezuko shot to her feet, sliding behind him like an athlete as she squeezed his sides, making Tanjiro yelp. He twisted around to get her back, but that only left him open for more tickles from the others.

Recovering quickly, Hanako hugged his middle, her small hands clawing at his belly the way he did to her. “Take this!” She giggled, grinning when he started to laugh. “We can do it! Tickle him!”

“Obviously!” Takeo grunted as he maneuvered around jerking elbows, pushing one up so he could go for his brother’s armpit. “Looks like I found a good spot!”

“Ah! Nohohohoho! Wahhahait no hold ohohohoohohohn!” Tanjiro squirmed, trying his best to fight back. It wasn’t long before he was overpowered, falling to his side as the three poked and prodded every spot on him. “Ehehehehehehehehhe! Shhihihihiihihngeru! Hehehehehehelp mehehehehehe!” He cried, reaching for his brother weakly.

“Hm…nope.” He decided, grinning at the other. “This is what you get, big bro.”

“Trahahhahahahahihihiihihihitor!” Tanjiro cackled, sinking further when Nezuko’s nails found his upper ribs. “Geahahhahahhaahha, not theehehehhehehre!”

“He’s way more ticklish than all of us!” Hanako giggled, delighted.

“To think we’ve been letting him win all this time?” Takeo sounded almost disappointed.

“Now now, don’t fret- he’s quite the beast.” Nezuko grinned, giggling when Tanjiro squealed. “You just gotta find the right spot to disarm him! Like…here!” She reached around and dug into the left side of his belly, making him shriek. “See? Instant defeat!”

“GUUHUUHUHUHUHUHUYS!” Despite how loud he laughed, Tanjiro did in fact give up. He no longer squirmed, opting to just curl up and laugh. His cheeks were bright red with mirth, eyes squeezed shut as tears threatened to spill. “I GIIHIHIIHIHIVE!”

“Okay!” Nezuko and the others immediately retracted, watching him gasp for breath. “Still think you’re the best tickler in all the Kamado family?”

“Heheheck yeah…You just cahauaght me ohohohff guahahahrd.” Tanjiro gasped, making his siblings laugh.

Just then, Rokuta shuffled in, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. “What happened?” He breathed, still waking up.

“Roku! Good morning.” Nezuko stood and shuffled to her brother, gathering him up with a kiss to the forehead. Hanako and Takeo joined her soon after, beginning to bicker about something new while Shingeku crawled over, petting Tanjiro’s head. “Are you okay, Tanji?”

Tanjiro smiled, reaching up and squeezing his hand gently. “Never been better.”

I hope this was good!

#demon slayer #tickle #tickle fic #kamado tanjirō #nezuko kamado #Takeo kamado #hanako kameda #shingero kamado #rokuta kamado #kamado siblings #they deserve the world your honor #sibling bonding #fluff

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anamelessfool · 1 year

Text

Maestro (part 3 of 4) p1 p2

It was 1977.

Sister Imperator, the Dark Mother, was looking for an apprentice.

@petrifyingpapas Challenge Week 2: Incantation

Sister Imperator & Young Secundo, Young Terzo AO3 Link

tags: dark magic, ritual magic, initiation, family drama, exploration, SFW

Part 3: Secundo and Sister arrive in the catacombs, and the initiation is at hand. Secundo may have f'ed it up.

The warm light from Sister’s kerosene lantern embraced them as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Dusty shadows scattered across the statues and monuments, silvery with dust and web. There was a slight breeze from below, lightly caressing Secundo’s face as they walked through the old crypts.

“The title of Maestro is more appealing to you? A magician leads a lonely life.”

Secundo put his attention towards not tripping in the dark as he carried his things. “I don't need anyone.”

“Of course you don't.” Sister’s voice had a timbre of excited curiosity. “Magician… Not Cardinal?”

“Not for me,” Secundo replied, hiding his true opinion of Cardinals: pencil pushers.

“Ah yes, this one wants to plumb the depths. Can really grasp how Will warps the fabric of reality….at sixteen.”

“Every old magician was once a young magician,” Secundo replied, her intimidating jabs barely scratching the surface. He knew this was another part of the test. Sister always lashed out with her words like a whip, scaring the weak-willed, catching the prideful ones off guard. She would soften up eventually, once she saw how unimpressed and unafraid her prey was.

“I have never been old,” she laughed quietly. The cold walls closed tighter around them as they walked, dampening her voice. It felt like it was right beside his ear, taunting him. “And I never will be.”

They stopped in front of a large statue in an alcove, a profane perversion of the Virgin Guadalupe encased in silken webs, a monument to a former Mother Imperator. Her right hand held a goblet, her left, a small curette blade. There was a perfect empty cube carved where a heart would be. The room itself was a wide, round room with shelves to rest the bones of those who once held the title and the powers of The Dark Mother. Each shelf populated with remains had a wooden stake sticking up, meticulously pounded into the body’s chest.

Sister set down her lantern and rubbed her hands together. She surveyed the space, nodding to herself, deciding silently.

This was the place. Secundo pulled his face into an expression of focused intensity. It was about to begin.

“Maestro, draw a circle,” Sister said, teasing him further with the unearned honorific. He brushed it off as much as he could, steeling himself. He pulled out chalk from the suitcase and sketched a large circle on the stone floor as evenly as possible. He drew an additional smaller circle within, giving him a ring in which to write the specific sigils that supported his incantation. It was perfect. Done. He smiled quietly to himself.

“Very well, that was a good circle, maestro.” Sister cocked her head. “Your journals. Your books. Place them in the circle.”

Secundo stacked the carefully organized journals, the painstakingly collected theory books, the drawings and diagrams drafted in his own private experiments. It was a large pile of work, already, at such a young age. All itemized, labeled, documented and categorized. “It is done, Sister.”

“Impressive pile there, young Secundo,” Sister replied sweetly, a small smile hovering around her face. She tossed two items to him, one sounded like metal on the stone floor. He picked them up, studying them, and as he connected the items to her intentions his heart fell.

It was a matchbox and a can of kerosene.

“Burn them.”

He stared at her in the half dark, fighting the tightness in his chest as it crawled up to grab his throat. All his work…all his things…

It seemed like she could sense the doubt that finally began to crack him. She let out a joyless laugh. “Oh, so a magician who said he would be willing to die can't burn some paper, can he?”

“It was…so much work…”

“Yes. It was, wasn’t it.” She stared at her fingernails, clearly bored. “Now destroy it.”

“How? How can I? I need it.”

“The work has already been done. And it was not done in those books. Burn them.”

He stared furiously at the pile before him, his vision blurring. He clamped down hard on the inside of his mouth, willing himself to be calm, but the agony of destroying what he had lovingly created overwhelmed his carefully constructed walls. He chose silence.

“Secundo.” Her voice was firm, aimed. He finally pulled his gaze up from the pile to meet her own cold stare.

“A magician burns all that can be burnt away, leaving nothing but their unyielding Will,” Sister spat. “All of this is irrelevant. Inhale it. Transform it.”

He let out his breath. He thought of the Void. The nothingness that held multitudes. From the nothingness, came creativity. He had to admit she was right. If he was going to go anywhere, he could not hold anything back.

He said he was willing to die. Destroying these objects…this was like a death. A death from which new things could be birthed.

He watched himself pour the kerosene on top of the notes, the drawings, the books and the objects. He saw himself light a match and drop it onto the pile. There was a painful roar in his heart as he saw his precious items, his identity, become slowly engulfed in flames, but after the raw wound bled an odd calm remained.

The fire crackled. For a few moments, they both watched it in silence.

Sister spoke. “Now put out the fire.”

Secundo reeled, his mind still overwhelmed with the wanton destruction of his precious things before his eyes. He felt like he was falling backwards, slipping before he even got the chance to try. “But I don't even know—”

“You said you read all of these books.” Sister tapped her temple. “Put. Out. The. Fire.”

Secundo screwed up his eyes tight. They stung from the smoke that poured from the accelerated fire. He coughed, and a new realization dawned on him, settled around him like leathery wings.

“This fire…this smoke…” It would not relent. And Nihil had padlocked the gate.

Sister’s expression through the flames betrayed nothing. “Yes. We will both die.”

”You’re putting yourself through this?!”

“I've lived long enough,” she said flatly. “Have you? Now put the fire out.”

Secundo’s heart felt it might burst. All he saw was the flames, all he could think about was the smoke. Any sort of magical theory or prior knowledge had dissipated the moment he lit the match. This was his fate, and it was all his fucking fault. He tried to wall himself back up, return to a proper cool and collected maestro, but merely gulped the air wordlessly.

Sister's eyes glittered in the firelight, her mouth still a thin red line. She seemed to revel in his childish expression of fear. “Maybe I want you to be afraid. Maybe that's part of it.”

There was a coughing echoing within the walls nearby. Sister looked up, her mouth creaking into a smile, the heat from the flames blurring her face. She strode over to the alcove and pulled something out from behind the statue there. Secundo recognized the yelp of surprise immediately.

Sister was gripping his younger brother Terzo by the shirt collar. The small boy coughed, blinking smoke from his eyes.

“Oh my, well this got a lot more interesting, didn't it.”

AO3 Link

Fun, tumblr exclusive fact: a curette is an instrument used by physicians since Roman times. It was used mostly for fine work such as eye surgery.

#ghost fandom #ao3 author #ghost band fic #the band ghost #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ghost scenes from the void #petrifyingpapas #young terzo #young secundo #sister imperator

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j-graysonlibrary · 7 months

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The Xiang Chronicles: Book Three Chapter 17

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Three

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 107k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: Only one Xiang remains and her name is Merra. She hopes to unite the land by force and plow down anyone in her way—especially the people of Agni who she deems faithless and the native people of Terra who refuse to cooperate with her.

Raine continues to serve his Lord but he has taken to alcoholism to soothe his grief—a fact he keeps out of his letters with Heidi. Baiya has returned to mercenary work in order to keep his family safe while Kira is on the warpath. He, fully, takes on the title of Chaaya and means to defeat the Xiang he sees as false.

And, in a guarded castle in Enlil, a stir-crazy Princess dabbles in the dark arts, setting in motion something even Tiandi cannot see.

Full chapter 17 under the cut

Chapter XVII:

In the throne room, May found herself fighting with every fiber in her being not to throw her parents around with her new strength. Her fingers twitched and curled inward and she imagined the carnage she could cause if she only let it loose. She could bash their heads together, repeatedly, until all that was left were two sacks of flesh covered in their own blood and brain matter. She could picture it so vividly, she almost thought she had done it a few times when she blinked.

“May, are you listening?” her mother’s shrill voice was what caused her to grapple with the fact she was, actually, still alive.

She snarled. “Yes.”

“Good. Sunny?”

“Yes, mother,” Sunny mumbled and kept her head bowed.

May cut her eyes back to her, to check on her, and she could see that she was just as uncomfortable as she had seemed the last few meetings they held. Prince Raiden stood next to her, however, and not beside their parents. He had been doing that in the last two meetings.

In fact, after the last assembly in the throne room, May had sat down with Sunny and asked her about it. Her sister had, surprisingly, dodged the subject at first.

But then she asked, “You still don’t want to marry him, right?”

“Of course not,” May said with a hiss.

“Okay…good. Well, not good but…umm…” Sunny curled into herself and started to rock back and forth as she struggled with speaking. Sometimes, if she was especially stressed, she would lose the ability to talk entirely.

“What is it?” May probed. “You can tell me.”

“Umm…Raiden is nice.” She started to comb her fingers through her hair, one swift motion after the other. “I...I like Raiden. He keeps me company.”

May’s brow arched. Sure, she knew the prince probably spent more time with her sister compared to her since she actively avoided him—between her training regimen and simply not wanting to, she had probably only seen him a handful of times—but she had not realized he had been around her older sister all that much.

“You…like Raiden?” she spaced her words out carefully.

Sunny nodded but would not say anything else. That told May everything she needed to know and it made her even more wary of the prince.

Her fiancé.

It was difficult and sickening to think of him that way. They would not actually be married though, she kept reminding herself. Even if she had to do it herself, she would ruin the wedding and make everyone involved in the planning suffer.

But, if Sunny actually cared for Raiden then she would have to rethink some of her ideas.

Her eyes drifted to the man who listened to the King and Queen intently. May could not understand why—they were probably just repeating the same things they said the day before.

When she was finally allowed to leave, she darted out the throne room but then slowed her steps when she saw Raiden and Sunny leaving together. They were still close, having their own private conversation.

“Princess, ready to head up?” Fujin’s voice reached her but she did not turn to face her guard.

“No…” May mumbled and kept her eyes on the pair across the hall. A few other guards passed by, briefly blocking her view and she pushed them along with the air, making one of them stumble and curse.

“Careful with that,” Fujin scolded, able to notice immediately.

She rolled her eyes. “No one can tell. Look, I need you to take Sunny to her room.”

Their eyes finally met and Fujin’s brow furrowed. “You want to talk to Prince Raiden?” she gathered but was confused about it.

“Yes.”

Fujin sighed and shook her head. “Alright. If that is your wish.”

May smiled and patted her on the shoulder, sending her on her way. She followed behind, slowly, and watched as Fujin parted the couple and took Sunny’s hand to lead her off. Sunny waved at Raiden and the man waved back with a smile on his face.

“Hey,” May barked once she was close enough to grab his attention without alerting potential prying ears.

The prince jumped and spun around to face her. “M-May! You frightened me!”

“I know, it was funny.” She smiled for a second but then dropped it back into a loose frown. “Look, we need to talk.”

“About the wedding?”

“…No.” May turned her head from one side to the other. “Let’s go to the courtyard.”

There was less of a chance of someone overhearing them there and May also just wanted some fresh air. She took a deep breath as they passed through the threshold into the small bit of nature she was allowed to indulge in. After a long exhale, she set her sights on the man beside her.

“I need to ask you about Sunny.”

“What about her?” Raiden asked, “She is a sweet girl.”

“Woman,” May corrected, “But, yeah, she is nice. I heard you two have been spending a lot of time together. Is that true?”

“Umm, yes? I suppose that is true.” He started to fidget with his hands. “Does that bother you? I wanted to get to know my future sister so…”

She shook her head. “That is fine. I suppose I wanted to ask what you thought of her.” She mulled the next words over in her head for a second before asking, “If she was the one you were set to marry instead of me, how would you feel?”

“About the same as I feel now?” Raiden frowned a little. “It is not a ceremony of love but of necessity. Whether it was you or her, the result would be the same.”

“Cut the political shit for a second, alright? If you had to marry her would you be upset? Would you prefer a different bride?”

He recoiled at the bite in her voice. “I do not think so? I cannot be sure. I have never considered being able to choose my bride.”

May rubbed her forehead and sighed. “Alright then, you said she was sweet and you like her. What do you like about her then?”

Raiden’s eyes darted about as he started and stopped a few times. Just before May could, not so gently, encourage him, he finally spoke, “She is very smart. I-in the subjects she is passionate about. Sometimes she is hard to reach but when she does talk to me, it is as though she sees me as a person and not just Prince Raiden. It is sort of a relief to talk to her in that way.”

It was not a perfect answer but it was better than the fear May had—that Raiden would openly mock Sunny or bemoan her behavior the second he was given room to do so. Instead, he seemed to genuinely like her company which was more than could be said for their parents.

She supposed she did not have to kill him after all. Sunny would be upset.

“Alright…good talk.” May sauntered past him and back to the living quarters. Thankfully, he did not chase after her with any follow-up questions so she was free to skip along to her room.

But, as she placed her hand on the doorknob, she glanced back to the hall. She bet the Xiang was in Kaz’s room and he was who she really needed to talk to.

She hurried along and tried to let herself in but the door was locked. With a frown she pounded on the wood. “Hey! It’s me!”

It took a second too long for anyone to unlock and open the door. Pangu even seemed surprised to see her as she walked in.

“Can you two stop sucking face for a second so I can talk? And do not lock me out during the day—it’s rude.” May put her hands on her hips.

Pangu and Kaz exchanged a look before a third person appeared from the shadows. “I can assure you they were not ignoring you on purpose, princess. I was having a talk with the Xiang.”

“Oh, Parvati.” May grinned and her voice lightened. “It has been a few days since you were last around.”

“I had other matters to attend to; my apologies.” The woman graced Pangu’s shoulder with her hand before glancing around the room. “I actually must be off again. Unless you need me?”

“Not especially,” May said with a shrug.

She looked back to Pangu who wordlessly shook his head. With that, she stepped back into the shadow and disappeared.

“What did she want?” May asked.

“Just checking on me,” Pangu replied before switching the subject back and reminding her of why she came over in the first place, “What is it you wanted to say?”

“Oh!” She bounced up on her heels. “My parents say the King will be here in a few days so we need to do something tonight. Are you ready?”

“Sure. Will it just be us?”

“Fujin and Kaz will guard the room and stand on alert but we will be the ones going in.”

Pangu nodded. “Okay. Just tell me what you need and I will do it.”

***

Like May, the King and Queen had their own personal guards but, with everyone’s new abilities, they were not even able to scream before they were knocked out. Fujin and Kaz propped them against the wall and took their place at the door, prepared to take down anyone else who stumbled upon the room although there was a slim chance of that happening at all.

Pangu kneeled in front of the door and picked the lock with the air, letting himself and May inside.

If May’s room was large then her parents’ was huge. There was an entire other hall before coming onto their bedroom and another set of guards. May took them out by knocking their heads together and then Pangu pushed them each to the side, clearing their path.

Muffled talking could be heard from beyond the threshold and he and May glanced to each other. Her eyes told him to stay still for a moment—to wait and listen.

“I cannot wait until this is all finalized and done with,” the Queen sighed.

“Me too,” the King agreed, “May will finally calm down, I wager.”

“She had better. If she does anything that reflects poorly on this family…I just do not know what I will do.”

Pangu saw anger flash in the princess’s eyes and he readied himself for action.

“Do not worry. As long as we can make King Ferdan understand what it takes to keep her under control then he will have no problems.”

The Queen chuckled. “Yes. Keep her locked in a tower, for the love of Tiandi.”

May’s face darkened and she ripped around the corner before giving Pangu the signal but he followed behind her quickly anyway. “You maggots!” she seethed and threw them both against the far wall, away from their beds where they had been settling down for the night.

“May!?” they both gasped—her father in surprise and her mother in horror.

Pangu stood behind the princess, ready for instruction, but so far he was impressed with May’s display of strength. Her anger, surely, was aiding her or, perhaps, she had been slacking off in training. Both seemed just as likely.

“You were planning on shipping me off to the mainland after the wedding?! I should have fucking known!” She kept her arm out but her parents were not tossed around any further. After a moment, Pangu realized why as he caught them both struggling to move. She was using her energy to keep them still. “I will NOT be marrying Raiden and I most certainly will NOT be spending the rest of my life locked in some other castle!”

“I-It is for your own good,” her father croaked out.

May growled and then looked back to Pangu. “Make him suffer! Just make sure he does not bleed out—I do not want this to be over too quick.”

“What does that mean?!” The Queen shouted, “Who is this man?”

Pangu almost found it funny that it took them so long to notice him but he was more concentrated on his task. Make him suffer, he repeated in his mind as he looked at the King. His arms were at his sides, gripping at the stone for any purchase and he stared at them with a hanging jaw.

He sent his energy through the stone and opened up a crack in the floor, causing the King’s arm to slip down, to the elbow. He yelped in surprise but Pangu knew he was about to scream much louder. When he clamped the stone around him, he was proven correct and May grinned with delight.

“Keep going,” she encouraged. “I want to see the bone.”

Pangu would have done as she asked no matter what but, when she spoke so directly, he felt a compulsion take over, deep in his being. It was in his muscles, propelling him forward—even in his bones.

He pressed harder and the King’s screams grew more and more ear piercing and distressing. His wife tried closing her eyes but May forced her both to turn her head and keep her eyelids peeled so she could see everything.

The stone started to cut the skin and blood spurted out, mostly upward, as the earth pushed and crushed. Bone was harder to sever but, with enough energy, Pangu was able to snap the arm and swallow everything below the elbow. A rush of blood pumped out once the amputation was complete so Pangu shot out a flame, cauterizing the wound in one agonizing second.

That, naturally, brought about more screaming.

“Calm down,” May huffed, “You are not on fire, it is fine.”

The flesh around his elbow was burnt but it was no longer bleeding at least. Pangu looked to May for what he should do next but she did not meet his eyes. She was focused on her mother.

“Did you see that, your majesty? Do you want a matching arm?”

The woman turned her head back and forth while sobbing. “N-no…please…”

“Will you do anything to make me stop?” May kneeled down in front of her. “Anything at all?”

A few more tears streamed down her face. “Yes. Your marriage is canceled—we will tell them you died and then you can leave and do whatever you want!”

May lips pulled upward, slowly, until her smile encompassed most of her face. “Good. But I have some specific demands, if you do not mind.”

“Please, go ahead.” The Queen gulped while the King moaned incoherently at her side, probably slipping in and out of consciousness both due to the pain and the shock.

“I do intend to leave and, obviously, I am not marrying Raiden.” May chuckled under her breath, “But Sunny will be in charge after I go. She is to inherit everything and you will teach her how to run a country. Do not refer to her as a child or treat her as one. Got it?”

She nodded and her lip quivered.

“Great!” May hopped up onto her feet. “Well that was, finally, a productive meeting, mother and father. Thank you.”

As she turned on her heel, the Queen glanced back to Pangu. Some of her strength returned but only so she could ask. “Who are you…?”

Pangu did not blink. “I am the Xiang.”

“The real one,” May interjected and grabbed his arm, pulling him along with her. She looked over her shoulder one last time to add, “The other one, the one you both met with, she’s a fraud.”

“A…fraud…?” her mother’s meek voice faded behind them.

May snickered under her breath and patted Pangu’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

#the xiang chronicles #my novel #my writing

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gryfon-spanish-werewolf · 4 years

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A Sister Like You

Inspired by this post in which Elsa her 8yo self and Anna is her 18yo Frozen 1 age at the same time, AND @themountainsays ‘s tags about how it could make an interesting bastard!Anna au.

Special shout out to @like-redhead-probably and @daughterofhel for your encouragement! And pssst @jabs-wocks this one is much cuter and fluffier, I promise <3

Edit: Ao3 and FF.net

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

The king and queen had a terribly kept secret: their firstborn was a bastard.

It was a terribly kept secret because, well, everyone loved her.

Anna of Arendelle was too much like sunshine on a cloudy day for people to hate her. The cooks loved her because she wasn’t a picky eater like her father, and the maids loved her because she always helped mend the sheets she ripped during her playtime. The gardeners and stablemen loved Anna because she talked to the ducklings and horses and goats, and even the flowers weren’t ignored. The people loved her because she was a bright child who walked among the crowds in the market and bought pastries from the local baker with a smile full of missing baby teeth. Anna danced with the town’s children during the festivals and chased after ships until the end of the dock as they set sail.

And perhaps most importantly, her parents loved her - one of blood and one of adoptive heart. They promised to care for the little red-headed baby as their own, regardless of what people said.

Truly, Anna was a light in the dark, even as a toddler, a fire in the midst of winter during her childhood years, and that warmth only soared to bonfire heat with the birth of the first true princess, her little sister, Elsa.

Anna’s love for Elsa was similarly earned in the way it was passed to her: instantly, freely, and without hesitation.

Elsa was born in the midst of a terrible winter storm that ended as soon as Anna was let into the birthing room. The king was right behind her, kissing his wife’s head sweetly as they peered down at their second daughter. The question was asked if Anna wanted to hold her little sister and Anna nodded furiously, already getting a leg up on the bed. They laid Elsa in her arms and Anna's eyes filled with wonder at the tiny bundle. She sat completely frozen, not wanting to move or change her position lest she disturb Elsa. The babe fussed and grabbed Anna’s small finger in an even smaller fist. Everyone in the room fawned over the action.

“She’ll be queen, right?” The king and queen exchanged a glance, hesitant. Anna had not seemed put out by the fact that she would never officially rule, but she was only ten, and they weren’t sure if that would always be the case.

The king cleared his throat. “Yes, darling. She will.”

Anna looked back down at her baby sister. Looked at her like she was her whole world. Elsa hiccupped a little and Anna smiled her blinding smile.

“I can’t wait,” she said, wiggling her trapped finger back and forth so Elsa turned towards the motion. “She’s gonna be great! And I’m gonna help her!”

The mood shifted instantly and everyone relaxed, rejoicing. Elsa’s forehead wrinkled at all the noise and she began to wail until Anna soothed her, shushing all the adults with a serious tone. They did, but not without some laughter.

And then Elsa sneezed.

Frost dusted Anna’s twin braids and bangs. She blinked. Everyone stared in complete shock. A small snowflake fell delicately from nowhere to land on the tip of Anna’s nose. In her arms, Elsa made little noises of satisfaction and nestled herself further into Anna’s hands before falling asleep.

“I take it back,” Anna whispered excitedly while the room found their tongues. “She’s going to be the best!”

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

In the middle of the night, Anna crept through the darkened hallways of Arendelle castle, easing the door of her parents’ room open. She lifted, with some effort, the door from the bottom with her toe so it wouldn’t squeak and give her away. She closed it just the same, sidling over to the crib along the far wall. Voices came from the opposite side of the room, in the connected bathroom.

They were arguing. Again.

She couldn’t remember them arguing when she was little, but Anna wasn’t sure that was because they hadn’t, or because they’d not had a reason to.

Because now they were always arguing about Elsa.

Anna dragged the stepstool up to the side of the crib. Elsa was deeply asleep, mumbling vague syllables as Anna rocked her bed gently with her knee. Half a year had passed and Elsa kept getting bigger everyday. Her hair was growing out, her cheeks were soft and pudgy (“Just like yours!” The staff would often remind Anna), and she had started to laugh and laugh and laugh at all of Anna’s antics. Anna was utterly enchanted by her, her little sister was genuine magic.

And of course, Elsa was literally magic, too.

Raised voices rebounded around the walls as the king and queen found new ground to battle over. Anna saw Elsa’s lower lip wobble and put her hand down into the crib so Elsa could hold it. With her other hand she touched the bandages around her head.

“It’s okay,” Anna murmured, “I know it was an accident.”

They’d been playing Peek-a-Boo.

Anna had surprised Elsa for the hundredth time with a joyful, “Here I am!”, only this time Elsa had placed her hand on Anna’s temple as she giggled and there was a flash of white. The next thing Anna knew she was on horseback, jostled back and forth in the king’s lap. They rode hard, to a clearing she didn’t recognize. Creatures rolled out of the mist and popped open, revealing themselves to be trolls. Anna would have been excited under normal circumstances, but the looks on the king and queen’s faces, and the fact that Elsa was crying her tiny lungs out, had her clamping down on any questions.

The adults talked, human and troll alike, but Anna was having a hard time paying attention. Elsa was so far away, upset, and she couldn’t reach her. Her body felt stiff and cold, especially her head. She couldn’t stop shivering. One of the trolls saw her reach out from the king’s arms and told everyone that Anna was awake.

The old troll informed her gravely that her life was in danger, that Elsa’s power would only continue to grow. He showed her images with his magic: a figure in blue turning water to ice, then being pounced upon by figures in red. They were beautiful, and frightening, making Anna’s heart pound sluggishly in her chest. The queen and king said the troll could do whatever he needed to save Anna’s life and protect Elsa from such a fate. The troll approached Anna, with more magic shining in his rocky palm, and said that everything would be fine, that it was just her head and not her heart. He chuckled humorously.

“Much better to lose a few memories than your life.”

Anna refused.

The adults sputtered.

“Will I remember Elsa?”

“Yes, of course but-”

“Will I remember her magic?”

“The magic is what did the damage, and to remove it I would remove-”

“Then no.”

And she wouldn’t hear it any other way, even as her body grew colder and the vision on her right fractured and split. A frozen headache pulsed at her temple, spreading rapidly across her skull. Still, Anna sought out the sound of Elsa’s voice, even though others were getting in the way. She couldn’t tell who was who. Some of them wanted the troll to do it anyway, that Anna was just a child, only ten, and didn’t know better. Some wanted Anna’s wishes to be respected, that perhaps there was another way. Even more worried about the future, the kingdom, what it might mean to have a queen with powers… or a bastard without memories of them.

What were the consequences of hiding Elsa’s powers from the public? What were the repercussions of making the same mistake over and over, if Anna was literally unable to remember the danger?

So many questions, so many voices.

All of them wanted her to live.

Anna took air into small lungs embedded with ice shards, speaking softly but clearly even as fatigue stole over her.

“Elsa’s powers are a part of her. Forgetting them means I’m forgetting part of Elsa. I don’t want that. How can I help her if I don’t know her?”

When Anna next awoke she was in her room back at the castle, wrapped solidly in blankets. Summer sunlight filtered through the curtains, bright and cheerful. She thought perhaps it had all been a dream, and she’d been allowed a rare day to sleep in.

In fact here was Gerda, thankfully with breakfast, walking through the door. Anna sat up to make space and shot her a cheerful, “Good morning!”

Gerda dropped everything she was carrying in one huge clatter and rushed to Anna’s side, burying her in a deep hug.

“Oh, my little Princess!” She always called Anna that, even though she wasn’t really. “We thought we were going to lose you!”

Anna went to protest but spied her reflection in the mirror over Gerda’s shoulder. Her hair was it’s usual post-slumber mess, but this time instead of it being held away from her face by sheer luck, it was by bandages.

Gerda set about getting her dressed and fed and ready for the day. She did Anna’s hair last of all, delicately peeling away the strips of cloth. It hurt a little, but not too bad. Anna wasn’t sure what she expected to see as the source of the pain, but that wasn’t it.

“Did I get some of the powdered sugar in my hair?” She asked.

Gerda looked sad, gazing at Anna through her reflection. “No my dear, that’s…” She paused, deliberating. Anna touched the white streak at her temple, following it back where it disappeared behind her ear.

“I don’t know all the details,” Gerda finally continued, “but I’m told you were very brave.”

Anna watched Gerda comb the white streak into her braid and remembered.

And to her everlasting relief… she remembered everything.

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

Anna and Elsa grew up, little by little, leap by leap. Space was cleared out in Anna’s room for Elsa’s bed and things, but by that time they were already inseparable. From the moment Elsa could walk she followed Anna everywhere. Laughter was common, and anyone in the castle who caught an earful of it drifting and caterwauling through the halls always gave a smile. Unless it was followed by the sound of something breaking, then it was usually a kickstart to a sprint.

As Anna edged into her teenage years things got… a little silly. Now at ages fifteen and five, the girls could get into all kinds of mischief. Nothing terrible of course, mostly playing knights in the hallways with the armor and freezing their tutor’s inkwell after a particularly difficult day of study. But then of course, there was the time Elsa made sleeping versions of them to fool people into thinking they were tucked away for the night, only to get caught sneaking into the fjord waters for a late night swim. Or the time Anna pretended Elsa was sick and was only taking requests through the door - requests that included chocolate cake, chocolate chip cookies, hot chocolate (in summer), chocolate mousse…

The future that the king and queen feared never came to pass; Elsa’s powers indeed grew as she did, but they were tempered with the practice that came along with frequent use, namely entertaining herself and her older sister. Anna never got tired of watching Elsa, “Do the magic,” and Elsa never got tired showing her.

Anna’s sunny disposition never wavered even when others thought it might, when, despite their closeness, familial bonds, and education, Anna’s status as an out of wedlock child started to become more frequently pronounced. If anything, Elsa took more offense to her sister being addressed as, “Lady Anna,” while she got “Princess Elsa”, than Anna ever did.

“But you are a princess!” Elsa protested one night. They were both in their respective beds, across from each other, flat on their backs as they watched the hues of the Northern Lights waver over their ceiling.

“I’m technically half adopted,” Anna clarified.

“What does that mean?”

“It means one of our parents isn’t my flesh and blood parent, even though I call them Mama and Papa just like you do.”

“That’s so weird,” and Anna could hear Elsa’s frown from her side of the room. “Which one?”

Anna shrugged. “I dunno. It’s not like I haven’t wondered, but it just, never seemed to matter enough to ask.”

“I could ask.”

“No, sweetheart, you don’t have to.”

“But I wanna know!”

Anna sighed. She watched the lights dance a moment before saying, “I don’t.”

“Oh…” Elsa went quiet. “Can I ask why?”

“Sure you can.”

A few seconds passed before Elsa huffed irritably and Anna grinned in the dark. “Why don't you want to know?”

“I want to be mysterious,” Anna teased.

“Anna!”

“What? If you get to be queen, then I want to be the spooky, strange older sibling!”

She expected a laugh but was met with silence.

“...Did you wanna be queen?”

Anna opened her mouth to reply how she always did, but stopped. This was her sister, not some dignitary in a hushed tone or some drink toting duchess at a dinner party. She deserved a real answer.

“No,” Anna said finally, “not really anyway. Even when I was little I didn’t dream of holding Papa’s scepter or wearing Mama’s crown. I felt like that was their thing, and you had your thing! And I was… am, happy just being me.”

“Is that because you really never thought about it, or because someone told you it would never be yours?”

Anna’s brows knit together and she sat up quickly. “Hey,” she smirked, “who said you could be a five-year-old philosopher?”

“Sorry!” Elsa sat up too, her arms hugging her bed sheet covered legs. “I just think you’d be really good at it!”

“Good at it?” Elsa nodded, the Lights roaming through her hair. “What makes you say that?”

“Well…,” Elsa began rolling her hands in a circular motion. A small ball of twinkling snow appeared between her hands, rotating gently. She did this whenever she was thinking. “You’re smart and patient and kind. You’re always explaining things to me, and telling me stories. You help me when I’m mad at my homework or miss a stitch while sewing. You’re always thinking of new games to play, you read me books and take me out into the town for a day of fun! And you always save some of your peas from dinner for the ducks in the pond. You claim it’s because you hate vegetables but really it’s because you know it’s their favorite snack.

“But as much as you teach,” Elsa continued, the snowball spinning and sparking, “you also listen. You know everybody in the whole castle’s birthday. A sailor told you that he always missed the baker’s lun epleterte when he was out at sea, and now the baker always has extra when he sees that ship come home. Kai mentioned once that his favorite flowers hadn’t bloomed yet in the garden so you staked out the hedge for weeks. The moment they bloomed you ran to go find him, a few flowers already in your hands. You’re very-,” Elsa paused, her hands stopping too. Her lips twitched in annoyance. “I don’t know the word. But you know people and you care about them, and I think that would make you a great queen.”

The little snowball shrunk and disappeared, returning the room to the flickering patterns of pinks, blues, and greens of the Lights. Anna propped her head and elbow up on her thigh. “Hmm, I suppose you’re right. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not really interested, and even if I were, I still couldn’t.”

Elsa waved her hand dismissively. “When I’m queen I’ll just make you queen too.”

Anna scoffed, though not without humor. “That’s not how it works.”

“Says who? I’ll be queen! Who’s gonna say no?” Elsa barreled on, not waiting for Anna’s response. “It’ll be perfect: I’ll be Queen, you’ll be Royal-Big-Sister-Queen, and then you and I can both do whatever we want! We’ll be perfect together!”

“‘Royal-Big-Sister-Queen’? That’s not a thing.”

“It will be,” Elsa replied confidently. Anna exhaled heavily, a smile on her lips. Elsa noticed her lack of enthusiasm. “Okay, I’ll work on a better title but…, I just don’t want people thinking that you’re not part of my family.”

Anna’s eyes softened. “C’mere you.”

Elsa kicked off her covers, grabbed the stuffed penguin Anna had made for her fourth birthday, and ran on bare feet to Anna’s bedside. She lifted her arms and Anna picked her up, nestling her close. “It will never matter what other people say about me, because I know that the family that chose me, and that I choose right back everyday, loves me very much, and just wants me to be happy.”

Anna ran her pinkie softly down the bridge of Elsa’s nose. Her little sister blinked drowsily when Anna did it again. “What do you think about that?” She asked quietly.

“I think… you’re my best friend-older sister,” Elsa said softly as sleep dragged at her, “who tries to put her cold feet on my back when we sleep together, always forgetting that I can’t feel the cold.”

Anna chuckled low in her chest. “And I think you are my sweet-but-silly little sister,” she replied, tweaking Elsa’s nose which made her giggle, “who is always stealing the blankets despite claiming she’s never cold, leaving me to freeze to death.”

Elsa cuddled closer to Anna, yawning fiercely. “I promise I’ll share them tonight. Pre-Queen’s honor.”

Anna put a hand to her chest. “That’s a big promise, your Almost-Majesty. How do you know you’ll keep it?”

Elsa already had her eyes closed and her head on Anna’s pillow. “Because I love you.”

Anna smiled warmly. She scooched lower and drew the covers up over her shoulder, planting a kiss on Elsa’s forehead as she got settled.

“I love you too. And I still will, even when I wake up tomorrow and all the covers are on your side of the bed.”

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

Elsa never did come up with a better title for Anna’s rise to royalty. Not that she didn’t have time; to most people three years is quite the span, but for children and young adults it may well have been the blink of an eye. And it certainly felt like no time at all when Kai knocked on their door, parchment in hand and tears in his eyes, to deliver the news that their parents had died at sea.

Anna was eighteen, and Elsa, heir to the throne, only eight.

The funeral was delayed until proper mourning attire could be fashioned for such young women. The headstones were grand but simple. After the rain and the prayers, Anna and Elsa walked back to their room, silent. Anna worked on autopilot: helping Elsa disrobe, comb out her hair, put her in sleepwear. Until she felt the ghost of a memory, not long past, of her hugging the queen and king around the waist, expressing her wish to see them soon. The last time she’d ever touched them.

She heard Elsa sniffle beneath her hand, and caught sight of their reflection in the mirror. Tears dripped out of red-rimmed eyes as Elsa’s hard fought composure (already so heavy for a child) fell apart at Anna’s momentary lapse in normality. Then they were holding each other close, fingers digging into clothing and faces pressed close together.

They slept in the same bed for months.

But during that time an uncomfortable question arose. One that, out of respect for tradition, should have waited, but realistically speaking, couldn’t.

Who was in charge now?

Obviously no one expected an eight-year-old to be officially running a country, especially since her Coronation Day was over a decade away. And while Elsa had already Ascended to ruling status, legally she wasn’t making the rules, and it couldn’t be advisors forever. Especially not after the period of mourning, which at max placed Elsa at twelve. She would be involved in ongoing diplomatic and national matters of course, as she would have been anyway, though now to a larger degree, but the fact of the matter was that Elsa was a child.

She still had a bedtime.

And it couldn’t be Anna… could it? She had the training, the disposition. Even if she’d never desired it personally, could she be persuaded to step up, even if it was, in the end, invisibly? The advisors knew that generally speaking, the people of Arendelle would not turn their backs on Anna being their ruler in Elsa’s place, but politically, they felt the pressure of putting the correct outward face on their country.

Anna walked past two advisors, picking holes in the same arguments she’d heard for weeks, and closed her ears to it all. If they --the crown, the staff, the castle-- needed her help, she’d do it in a heartbeat, but right now, she was more concerned with the remaining family she had left.

Namely, finding her before her upcoming royal duties.

They were starting slow. A few of the old guardsmen had retired, and today was their replacement’s first day on the job. Elsa, as queen, was supposed to formally greet them and thank them for their service. Fairly straightforward, all things considered, but Anna had seemingly lost track of Elsa after breakfast and between a few meetings of her own, and now was looking for her little sister.

Well, she was pretending to look. Anna knew exactly where to find her sister, but she gathered that, with all the fuss over dress and ceremony, Elsa may want just a few extra seconds to be alone, not being touched by people’s hands or her hair pulled by combs or set in tight braids and buns along her head.

But they couldn’t delay forever. Anna tapped a special rhythm on the door to their room, hearing a muted, “Come in!” from the other side.

As she entered, Anna’s breath caught in her throat.

Elsa was dressed like, well…

She looked just like Mama.

“Gerda says if I keep my steps high, I won’t trip on my cape,” Elsa said, spinning to show off the purple floor length cape. “But I can’t walk normally if I do that, I look like a puffed up frog!”

A little tiara nestled in her snow-blonde hair bounced light around the room as Elsa shifted. A fleck caught in Anna’s eye and she blinked harshly, bringing her back to the moment.

“Good thing you only have to walk a few feet,” Anna agreed, closing the door behind her and striding up to her sister. “You’ll be the best dressed frog in the room.”

Elsa folded her arms and scowled, looking very queenly indeed. “I’m surprised you’re the one saying that, considering what you’re wearing today,” and she gestured up and down at her sister.

It was true, Anna was wearing a dress that was almost entirely green from top to bottom, excluding the bodice which was black. The pleats of her skirt were alternating shades of green, the only spots of color otherwise being the rosemaling against the black silk on her chest and abdomen. Anna looked down then back up, and grinned. “I guess you’re right. You’ll have to teach me how to walk then. Does it look something like this?”

She marched dramatically in place, all high knees and right angled elbows, a look of comic determination on her face. To her delight, and relief, Elsa burst into giggles. She held her two gloved hands up in front of her mouth.

That was the Elsa she knew.

“You’re going to embarrass me, Anna,” Elsa laughed.

“Lucky for me, that’s the older sibling’s job.” Anna put her hands on her hips. “Ready to go?”

Elsa’s smile dropped, looking down at her outfit. “I look like I am.”

Anna crouched down to be level with Elsa. “You certainly do,” she said softly. “You look beautiful. But I asked if you were ready.” Elsa didn’t meet her eye, instead fidgeting with her hands and wringing the soft blue leather of her gloves.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be,” Elsa confessed, downcast.

Anna acknowledged that with a little hum. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not for a long time. But I think that’s okay too, it just means you’re still willing to learn. And you know, you’re not alone. You’ve got Kai and Gerda and all the staff, you’ve got the tutors and experts and all the other adults that know what to do. And, you know,” Anna shrugged, “you’ve got me, too. So I’m pretty sure it won’t be a complete disaster.”

Elsa looked up. “Really?”

“Positive,” Anna winked. She pinched her pointer finger and thumb close together. “Just a little one.”

Elsa laughed again and shoved Anna’s hand away. “Okay, okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“After you,” Anna said grandly, opening the door wide for Elsa with a sweeping bow. Elsa shook her head, then squared her shoulders and tilted her chin back, adopting the posture she’d learned over many lessons of how to walk like a queen. Anna sheltered the little spark of pride inside her heart, and the flicker of sadness that came along with it.

They started to make their way down the long hall, Anna a step behind to Elsa’s right, as was expected. As they neared the halfway point, Elsa’s pace slowed, and Anna noticed immediately.

She tapped Elsa on the shoulder and gently took her hand.

Elsa glanced ahead and behind furtively. “I… shouldn’t.”

“I know but, you don’t have to be ‘Queen-queen’ until we turn that corner, so…” Anna ran her thumb across the back of Elsa’s gloved hand, “You can keep holding my hand until then.”

Elsa squeezed back. “And after that? Where will you be?”

Anna beamed.

“Right next to you. And after that? Wherever you need me to be.”

#I've always had some THOUGHTS^TM about Anna being awake during the scene where her memories are changed in F1 #I am nearly 100% certain that if Anna thought losing her memories of Elsa's magic #was the safest option for ELSA then she would agree #but that's a HUGE thing to convince someone #I really believe that if Anna had a choice she'd want to remember - even if maybe the damage took longer to heal #so that's why that part is in there lol #but otherwise this was just me being like 'omg Anna's older and she's gonna be the BEST older sister ever'#cuz she's already sunshine and now she gets to be sunshine for every second of Elsa's life #childhood separation? I don't know her #the sisters allowed to be together to process their greatest joys and deepest griefs? now THAT I can get behind #themountainsays #like-redhead-probably #daughterofhel #bastard!Anna au #A Sister Like You #yes the title is an intentional nod to 'A Sister More Like Me'#because that book is super cute and charming <3 and that was the goal of a few scenes in this one #fairly confident I succeeded: /I/ was certainly smiling and laughing writing it #Little Elsa #Anna #King Agnarr #Queen Iduna #Kai #Gerda #Trolls #F1 canon divergent #my writing #fan fic #story

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myherowritings · 3 years

Text

PART 5. THE INHERENT EROTICISM OF BUTTONING SOMEONE’S CLOTHES

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 3.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. sexual tension !! and umm sexual frustration ;p, not explicit but prob rated 16+, just read the title of this chapter BAHAHA

A/N. sorry this is coming a little later than planned ! :( but i hope the dressing room scene can make up for it u.u tysm for reading and for all the feedback! enjoy :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

What were you supposed to wear to a shopping date? you asked yourself. Not that today was a date or anything. Though maybe you sort of wished it were…

The Naruhata Charity Gala was in a little over a week and Shouto would be coming over to pick you up in less than one hour and you still sat in your room with nothing but a towel on feeling more and more hopeless.

It was a strange dilemma. He met you in your work apron wearing an unflattering work shirt and work pants. And when you met up over the weekend previously, you never paid too much mind on what you would wear. In fact, you were positive he wouldn’t even care how you looked. So why was it such a big deal to you now?

Probably because of your recent admission of your growing feelings towards him, you thought crossly.

In your defense, it wasn’t like it was your fault! Right? Seeing someone everyday… Wanting to see someone everyday… Texting regularly about the most random things, having the most banal objects you saw throughout the day remind you of something Shouto did or said… With all those occurrences it would’ve been practically impossible to not start crushing on him!

Time passed as you stared at your ceiling blankly. If you kept this up, he was bound to show up in your house and find you half-naked. (Now that you mentioned it, that didn’t sound like the worst idea. But it wasn’t something you’d randomly spring upon someone.)

“Get up, Y/N!” you scolded yourself, rolling off your bed and heading towards your closet.

In the end, you ended up settling for another variation of your usual go-to outfit and called it a day. It happened to be perfect timing since, by the time you finished getting ready, you got a new message on your phone.

Shouto: Parked in front of your place

Shouto: Sorry I’m a little early. You can take your time getting ready :)

Y/N: it’s okay i’m ready now!!

After hitting send, you put your shoes on, gathering your belongings you wanted to bring with you, and headed out the door. Excited to hang out with Shouto again, you walked with a skip in your step down the path until you reached his car.

“Hi!” You waved through his half-opened, tinted window. To no one’s surprise, his car was a sleek black color with dark, tinted windows, and gold details along the sides. If it didn’t look so oddly sexy you would’ve laughed at how cutely dorky he was for matching his car with his credit card. “This is one hot car.”

He turned his head to the side when you entered the passenger’s seat. “Should I turn the AC higher?”

“Huh— Oh!” You stifled a giggle when you processed the pun he made. “You’re funny, Shouto.”

He only looked a little confused. “Thank you.”

The interior of his car was no less—for lack of better term—sexy than the outside. Leather seats, a large screen for the radio and carplay, and the dashboard and side doors lit up a nice blue color.

“Pretty!” you complimented, poking at the colorful light.

“Want to pick a color?”

Your eyes widened. “It can change colors?!”

Shouto nodded.

“Can it be pink?” you asked intently.

“Light pink or hot pink?”

“Light.”

He swiftly obliged and with a hit of a touchscreen button, the interior lighting changed from blue to pastel pink.

“Green!”

It turned green.

“Orange!”

Cue the orange.

“Purple?”

Purple.

Once you were thoroughly satisfied with Shouto showing you the whole color selection (you were almost embarrassed to admit it kept you entertained for a good ten minutes), you settled on a bright turquoise that reminded you of the color of his left eye.

“Ooh, this color! My favorite,” you said simply, giving him a wide smile.

A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he developed a sudden interest in adjusting his rearview mirror. “Hm.”

Shouto drove the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, occasionally asking how your week was outside of work and what type of outfit you wanted to wear so he could have a better idea on where to take you.

“Did you eat?” he suddenly asked when he hit the next stoplight, one hand holding the wheel and the other resting comfortably on the gear shift.

His hands looked nice and slender and soft to the touch. Pretty hands, you thought but shook yourself out of it because you could go down a rabbit hole of examining his hands and going into detail about them.

You remembered the single, measly granola bar you had due to your rush getting ready. “I didn’t really eat yet, no. Did you?”

He shook his head and pulled into a food plaza with lots of stores to choose from. The two of you agreed on a noodle restaurant that apparently had some of the best cold soba (once you learned it was his favorite food, you wanted to be able to have some with him and today was the perfect opportunity to do just that) and promptly headed to the location.

In the shop, a waiter sat the two of you down at a dimly lit booth with the perfect amount of ambience that if someone were to casually look over, they might even mistake this outing as a date.

You grinned at the thought.

“Excited for the soba?” asked Shouto, examining the smile on your face thoughtfully.

That’s not why you were smiling, but it was close enough. “Mhm. And the udon. You can never go wrong with noodles!”

Yes, you got both udon and soba. But in your defense, where else would the fun in life be if not in sugary sweets and carbs?

As the two of you waited for your main dishes, you ate some fish cakes and edamame while talking about the ways in which capitalism could be dismantled. Rather sexy of him, if you did say so yourself.

Before you knew it, you were done with your meal and headed back into his car to go fancy-people shopping. On the remainder of the ride, you asked yourself what color you should pick that would match well with both you and Shouto. After all, nothing said a cute couple who totally liked each other going on a totally real date to a gala like color-coordinated outfits, right?

He parked in front of a street of buildings with a dark glass reaching from ceiling to floor with security guards at the door. Just standing near it made you feel fancy.

“This is a place my sister told me she liked,” he said, leading you to the store front with his hand on the small of your back to guide you. “I hope you’ll find something to your liking.”

You tried your best not to pay too much attention to the warmth you felt both on your back and your stomach from the fuzzy feelings that spread.

“Hello, welcome!” the both of you were greeted as you walked through the doors. The interior of the store was lined with designer dresses, some long, some short, and all incredibly stunning. There were only a few other patrons in the store, but all of them looked so elegant as they tried on their dresses. “It’s so lovely to see you again Mr. Todoroki.”

Shouto nodded subtly. “Hello. This is Y/N, my date to the gala who’ll need your assistance today.”

“Hi!” you chimed in at his cue. “Nice to meet you.”

The worker smiled and made her way over to you. “And you as well. I’m Masuda and I’ll do my best to make sure you leave the store satisfied with your purchase! Did you have a particular style or perhaps color in mind?”

“Umm,” you said sheepishly, looking around the wide variety of clothings and unsure where to start. “I’m not too sure. It’s my first time going to one of these things so maybe something comfortable, but also still...fancy?” You scratched the back of your neck. “Does that even exist?”

“Of course— Just have to find something that feels comfortable to you.” She told you to hold on one moment as she disappear into the rows of fabric.

As Masuda collected some starter dresses for you to try on, a customer walked by with bags of clothes in her hands, her gaze lingering on Shouto, though neither of you paid her much mind.

“In this setting, you look almost fit to be a sugar daddy,” you said jokingly, looking around in awe at the sophisticated yet lavish dresses. “You take all your sugar babies here?”

“Only the ones I really like,” he teased back. His voice was deadpan but there was the telltale hints of a smirk on his face to let you know he was only messing with you.

The door chimed to signal that a customer left and by then Masuda had returned with bundles of fabric draped on her arm. She led you away in a hurry and you hesitantly looked back at Shouto who followed in a safe distance. Seeing your moment of panic, he gave you an encouraging smile that somehow was enough to ease a significant fraction of your nerves. This may be new and confusing territory, but at least he was here to help you through it.

Masuda set a dressing room up for you—it was one of those rooms in the middle of the store with curtains that reached the ceiling and mirrors all around—and placed a bunch of outfits she thought would suit your taste. It reminded you of when a bride would go wedding dress shopping with their family. When you had enough outfits for the first round, she told Shouto to sit down on a leather seat in front of your dressing room while he waited for you to try the different dresses on.

In a way, it felt oddly intimate: Shouto sitting just a few feet in front of you as you undressed, only separated by the veil of a curtain. Would he offer to help button the back of your dress up, fingers brushing against your bare skin? The thought made you feel almost hot inside as you changed out of your street clothes and into the first dress.

Unfortunately for you, this dress had no such difficult buttons to reach.

“How’s it look?” you asked shyly as you emerged from the dressing room.

The dress was pretty and didn’t feel uncomfortable to walk in, but there wasn’t any sort of attachment you felt towards it. In other words, it was simply...meh.

Shouto looked up from his phone to take in the sight of you. He smiled. “You look amazing as always.”

“You think so?” You spun around and curtseyed jokingly and he chuckled. “I don’t think it’s bad, but I’m not sure if it’s the right one.”

“We’ll be here until you find the right one you want, then. Take your time, Y/N.”

His voice was normally on the deeper side, but it sounded even more sensual and gravelly at this very moment. You felt goosebumps on your arms and it wasn’t just because of the sleeveless dress you currently had on.

“T-Thanks, Shouto,” you murmured, turning around and walking back into the changing room to hide the look on your face. You didn’t even know what kind of look you had on your face, but you knew it was one that might give too much away.

It wasn’t fair that he had to be so sweet and caring and thoughtful and handsome and rich… Most guys you met barely fit into one of those criteria, let alone all five. (Sure, the last two weren’t necessary in your opinion, but you couldn’t deny they were a nice bonus.) It was too bad you had no clue how he felt about you.

There were moments where he felt flirty and teasing, like maybe he viewed you in a more-than-friends way. But other times he was so polite and proper and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was just being nice because that’s simply the sort of person he was to everyone.

While you were trying to sort through all your thoughts, you completely forgot to change into a new dress the whole time you were in here.

You saw a shadow at the floor of the curtain before a voice said, “Y/N? Are you okay in there?”

Jumping at the sound, you scurried to put the next dress on, a blue one with almost translucent fabric and a delicate neckline. Judging from the proximity of Shouto’s voice and the shadow of his shoes, he was right next to you as you changed.

“I’m okay!” you managed, hoping you didn’t sound as wobbly as you felt. You held the dress closed at the back, fumbling with the fastens. “I just, ah, needed help buttoning this one up.”

A light ruffle on the curtain then a pause. “Should I...come in and help?”

Your eyes widened, not expecting him to actually offer to button it up like you fantasized earlier. You fully thought he might called the worker to aide you just so he wouldn’t risk making you uncomfortable. (Not that he would’ve. At all.)

“I apologize,” he said somewhat tensely after you didn’t respond. “That was indecent of me—”

“No, no!” you said profusely, poking your head out of the curtain while holding the fabric at the front of your dress to your chest. You tilted your chin to meet his gaze with a determined one of your own. “I’d love your help, Shouto.”

With a dusting of pink coloring his cheeks, he nodded and entered your dressing room. “This dress is a nice color on you.” His voice was loud against the silence.

Shouto ran his hand down the length of your spine and then up to unfold the column of buttons on your dress that curved inwards at your movement, his knuckles grazing against your skin like lightning striking water. You jolted at the sudden feeling but he didn’t remove his touch when he felt it.

“Sorry.” His voice was low, almost like a whisper. “Was just getting the buttons out.”

“N-No worries!”

His fingers began working on the bottom-most button at your lower back as he applied a steady pressure on the base of your spine to control the motion. Shouto slowly began his way up, fingertips cold to the touch. But you knew that wasn’t the only reason you felt yourself shiver. As he fastened the dainty buttons with immense concentration (much more concentration than was actually needed to fasten buttons, you were sure), you felt the heat of his breath tickling the back of your neck. You almost couldn’t keep yourself from arching your back in a mixture of anticipation and delight at his constant touch.

When he finished the last button, Shouto let one hand rest on your hip, grasping the fabric between his fingertips to examine its silken texture. Your breath caught in your throat as you stepped back and bumped into his chest, but he was already there to steady you.

With his arm on your waist and your back leaning against his chest, you made eye contact through the mirror in front of you. You weren’t sure if the pounding you felt was from your heart or his or a combination of both.

There was something almost erotic about holding each others’ gaze in the mirror after Shouto just helped you dress, the two of you still not letting the other go despite the task being complete.

“The dress… You look gorgeous,” he said, not taking his eyes off you for one moment.

You nodded slowly. It did look amazing on you. And it was breathable and soft. (Plus, Shouto liked it, which made you happier than you’d care to admit.) “The only downside would be I need help getting into it.”

“We could get ready together so it’s no issue.”

“I’d...also need help getting out of it.”

You held your breath as his eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly in a way that made you curve your back before you remembered you were flush against Shouto and he could feel even the most subtle of movements coming from your body. But by the time you stopped yourself, it was too late. He already felt it and you wanted more.

His voice was hoarse. “I could help you with that too.”

Instead of beginning to unbutton the dress like part of you thought he would, he surprised you by spinning you around to face him, your shoulder blades pressed against the cool glass of the mirror and your palms lingering on the muscles of his warm chest. The contrast of the cold glass and Shouto’s body heat left a shiver down your spine.

“And how do you plan to help take off my dress when you can’t even see the buttons?” you said challengingly, a smirk on your face despite knowing full well your body was showcasing just how affected you were by this situation. By Shouto.

He tilted his head to the side in response to your daring tone, hands swiftly finding their way to your back and unbuttoning the top five buttons. It wasn’t enough to completely expose your breasts, but it was enough to loosen the fabric at the neckline in a way that made you gasp.

“Seems doable to me,” he commented.

You tugged him down slightly by the collar of his shirt. “I don’t quite believe you. Maybe you should prove it.”

A guttural noise sounded from the back of his throat as he cupped your jaw and leaned in closer. You inched forward, eager to meet his lips. But before they could touch, a knock came from the wall next to the curtain, causing the two of you to freeze in your spots, bodies pressed against each other in an intimate flush.

“Hello, Y/N?” said Masuda cheerfully, blissfully ignorant about what was about to happen in a public dressing room in the middle of the store. “How are the dresses coming along? Did you like any?”

“Ah, actually…” you trailed off, exchanging frustrated but amused glances with Shouto. “I think we’ll take this one.”

a/n: so...mirror sex/sex in a dressing room as a bonus chapter? u.u why yes of course. i’m one step ahead; did u even have to ask? LMAO and hm i wonder if y/n’s fEeLiNGs~ are reciprocated skfkfkdg ALSO THEY WERE SO CLOSE TO KISSING BUT DIDN’T I CRY hopefully the wait will be worth it ;3

what to expect in the next part:

GALA TIMEEEE

yes y/n finally gets the fancy candy they so desired

we get to see shouto’s sexy penthouse

shouto says eat the rich >:c

2K notes · View notes

graniairish · 3 years

Text

Walking on eggshells

So this is my first own story here. I hope it is written in an understandable way. (Please ignore any grammatical errors. English is not my mother tongue.)

Title: Walking on eggshells

Words: 6761

Warnings: language (some explicit words), harassment and insults, heartbreak

Summary:

Daryl and reader have been close friends since the early days in Atlanta. They are deeply in love with each other but have no clue about it.

At some point new people join the community, including a young woman who is immediately after Daryl.

Reader is not exactly thin, no size zero, but also not fat, rather curvy, feminine. Even in this apocalyptic time. (you are just the way you are.)

Daryl has withdrawn more and more from reader, avoids contact. Reader believes he does that because he now has a perfect woman by his side.

However, Daryl avoids reader because he does not know how to deal with his feelings.

One day reader goes on a run that goes wrong. To save their group, the reader does a suicide stunt, that can cost her life.

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

"Ya even know what ya're doin’?"

Those were the first words Daryl Dixon had ever said to you.

It was still at camp in Atlanta. Daryl stood over you, the sun behind him, as he looked down at you as you made a stew from a basket full of leaves and mushrooms.

“Believe it or not, I know what I'm doing here. My mother taught me as a child which mushrooms and plants are edible, and which can be used as medicine."

He nudged his nose up in a nod.

"If ya say so."

With that he dropped something in front of you.

"Maybe the whole thin’ tastes like somethin’ with that," he said before he turned around and made his way back to his brother.

Your eyes followed him - confused. Only then did you notice that he had thrown about a dozen freshly hunted squirrels in front of you.

Maybe the grumpy redneck was not that bad after all, you thought to yourself with a smile as you started to skin and gut the dead animals.

It was not long before a friendship developed between you. You were the only one he really let near him after the disappearance of his brother and Sophia's death. And after the farm was overrun by Walkers, he was by your side to comfort you.

He was always there for you, just as you were for him. You cared for each other.

But you only noticed how deep the feelings really were on your side when Daryl - after the incident with Woodbury - had turned his back on you and everyone else and disappeared into the woods. Just to be with his brother.

The realization that you were infinitely in love with the withdrawn redneck hit you hard. And just seeing him walk away hurt you so much that you could not breathe.

Without knowing it, Daryl had broken your heart into a million pieces.

It felt like he took a part of you with him.

More and more you withdrew from the others. From time to time, you even slept in the old management office of the Prison, far away from the cell block, from everyone else, from your family. You just wanted to be left alone in your grief and heartbreak.

In the first time you had gone through hell emotionally and a psychological breakdown would not have been long in coming. And if it had not been for Maggie, you probably would not have found your way back.

She had been your solid rock and, without you really noticing, had become your best friend - your sister.

And after a while it got better. It did not hurt that much anymore. Although it was not quite true. It still hurt - hurt infinitely - but the distances that those waves of grief hit you grew larger.

And then suddenly Daryl was back.

It was a shock to you.

And the moment he moved back into his cell in the cell block, you moved out. There was no trace of you or your belongings in the whole building anymore.

Quietly, and without anyone noticing, you moved into the management's office - permanently. The thought of being so close to him - physically - without actually being able to be close to him was just unbearable for you.

And so you had retreated.

Daryl did not seem to mind. It almost seemed as if he had not even really noticed it.

You hardly had any contact with each other. He rarely talked to you, and if he did, then only what was necessary and as monosyllabic as possible. He even seemed to be avoiding you.

But that's how life works - hard and unfair.

And you cannot choose who to fall in love with.

The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return. But it only worked like that in movies and love songs, right? It did not work that way in real life, at least not for you.

As time goes by you had devoted all your concentration to your small farm. Your mother taught you how to handle plants as a child. In your previous life - before the apocalypse - you also had a vegetable garden with which you mostly tended yourself. So you knew the job and it was easy for you.

You lived in your own little world where you worked side by side with Rick and spent your meager free time with Maggie. Sometimes Carol would join you, but you had already noticed that she somehow always dropped a few comments about Daryl.

You did not want to talk about the redneck, let alone think about him. So, you ignored her as best you could - or at least her suggestions.

But it was not that easy. Your whole prison family knew how deep your feelings were for Daryl. No matter how hard you try to hide it, hide yourself from it.

Then Woodbury fell. New people came to the Prison and with them a young woman - Michelle. Probably only in her mid-twenties, model type, blonde, pretty. A typical homecoming queen.

To you, she made it seem like she had never worked hard in her entire life. She was the type of person who always muddled through, for her own benefit.

And just a few days after moving in, she was permanently on Daryl's heels. She asked questions, talked to him, spent most of the days near him.

But worst of all, she was openly flirting with the man you loved, and he did not seem to mind. Your stomach cramped painfully at the sight, and you had not been able to eat for two days.

Your heart, painstakingly patched together, broke one more time. After that you had avoided Daryl and his blond girl for almost a week, avoided them like the devil had shunned holy water.

But it could not go on like that. And at a certain point you realized: as long as Daryl was happy, nothing else mattered. At least for you.

To make matters worse, there was that cruel little voice in your head that kept whispering to you why Daryl was interested in Michelle and not you. It kept talking to you, all the time.

And then the little wheels in your head started spinning until you were caught in a vortex of thoughts.

She was thin and delicate; you were rather well built.

Her shoulders were narrow; yours were broad.

Her stomach was flat; but you had unmistakable love handles.

She had a firm, shaped ass; you childbearing hips - as your mother used to call it.

Her golden blonde hair always fell in gentle waves down her back. You always had your y/h/c ones in a messy bun. And after hours of hard work in the gardens, you always looked like a half-plucked chicken.

You would never have any chance of comparing yourself with this beautiful, gorgeous woman. Michelle was perfect.

You were just you.

But the worst part of this whole thing was that this woman could not leave you alone. She had won, the man was hers. What else did she want from you?!

Every now and then she dropped small comments, out of the earshot of others. But so that you could hear them very well.

"Hard to believe how one can be so well fed.”

“Are you secretly eating your way through our supplies?"

"Given your size, a whole bunch of Walkers could get fed up with you for a week."

It hurt, hurt infinitely. But you were willing to endure everything. You did not want to make a scene. Did not want to get upset, maybe to draw more unwanted attention to yourself.

In the depths of your heart, you only wanted one thing. You just wanted Daryl to be happy. Everything else does not matter to you.

But what you failed to notice in all your self-doubt and self-sacrifice was: Daryl was not happy.

You were both blind to each other's intentions, had no idea why the other acted the way he was doing.

But the inner circle of your family, especially Maggie and Carol, knew what was going on. And having to watch the two of you - while you did not notice it yourself - slowly but surely drove everyone to despair.

The whole thing was like a fucking soap opera!

You and Daryl had barely spent time together and avoided each other as best you could, so you had not noticed all the little signs that spoke volumes to all the others.

How his ears turn red when you have been near him.

How he sometimes looked at you a little longer than others.

How he changed his shifts in the guard tower just so he could take care of you when you were near the fences during your work.

The moment Daryl faced you for the first time since his return, the floor was torn from under his feet. When he saw your y/e/c eyes looking at him, he felt his heart swell. Warmth spread in his chest and he had thousands of butterflies in his stomach. The redneck had never felt anything like that before and it terrified him.

It was something he could not handle.

He knew he screwed up when he left you because of his brother. The way you behaved towards him was unmistakable. Daryl did not want to endanger the little friendship that was still between you. He could not risk losing you for good.

So he gave you your freedom and just adored from a distance - without you noticing.

But from a certain point in time all his thinking was focused only on you. Or rather, to hide what he really felt about you - how much he loved you.

Daryl was so busy hiding the love he felt for you that he did not even notice how much this young woman from Woodbury was constantly flirting with him. Of course, it had not escaped him that she ran after him like a lost puppy; and yes that annoyed him.

But weren't all of these newcomers a pain in the ass?

He was not interested in this blonde woman, not a little bit. Daryl does not care about her; he does not even listen to her most of the time.

If he was honest, he did not even know her name.

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

In the last few weeks, it had become routine for the redneck to be on guard duty in the early hours of the morning. Not just because he was an early riser- and finally got some peace up here from the intrusive people from Woodbury - but because you went to work in the vegetable gardens shortly after sunrise every day.

And from high up there he had the opportunity to watch and admire you unnoticed.

You have always been used to working hard, and everyone who saw you knew that you had no problem with it and that you could lend a hand. Rick once joked that you could overshadow any Amish when it came to your work ethic. You just shrugged your shoulders and replied that you had no problem with that as long as you didn't have to pray for hours.

So you and Daryl spent the mornings together - without your having a clue about it. You, lovingly watching over the plants in the vegetable patches, he on the guard tower, lovingly watching over you.

As the sun rose higher and higher on its way across the sky, it made the sweat shimmer on your skin as you patiently devoted yourself to each of your tasks without taking a break. The black tank top you wore on that hot summer day stuck to your body and framed it perfectly. Your figure was like an hourglass, and each of your curves came out sensually.

At least as far as Daryl could tell. For him you were perfect, just like you were. He could watch you for hours without getting tired of it, could watch you for the rest of his life.

Only when the crotch of his jeans became uncomfortably tight did the redneck look away from you. His thoughts had taken a suggestive course, and the images that emerged in his head were by far no longer suitable for minors. Daryl would surely spend this evening in his fist again - dreaming of how you would feel lying under him, how you would smell, how you would taste, and what sweet noises would come over your lips if he would touch you where you needed it most.

"Everything's okay," he heard a familiar voice next to him.

Damn it, did the time really go that fast? Was his shift already over?

"Are you okay? You seem a little distracted to me."

Carol had come to relieve him. But Daryl, in his fascination for you, had not even noticed her.

"’m okay."

"Yes, of course, and your thoughts were on the task in front of you the whole time."

There was unmistakable amusement in Carol's voice. With a knowing smile, the woman leaned on the railing and watched you work for a while.

"Can you please finally tell Y/N that you love her. So that we can finally all get on with our lives? It's really not nice to see you two walking around each other on eggshells."

Daryl was embarrassed. He was caught with his hand in the cookie jar by Carol. Still, he tried to stay as cool as possible.

"I have no idea what ya're talkin’ about."

But the woman was not easily fooled. She knew very well what was going on in the man in front of her. Just as she knew how you felt about him.

"I hear what you say, but your ears say something else.”

Daryl flinched. Sometimes he hated the way his body betrayed him.

“What the hell,” Carol had to keep from laughing “I didn't even know that they could get so red."

"Stop it woman."

Again and again, Carol tried to get her friend to finally confess his love to you. Because in her eyes you were both wasting valuable time. And being able to spend time with loved ones was the most important thing now.

You had not noticed any of this. You were too busy tying up the tomato plants and removing the leaves so that they brought the greatest possible yield. After all, many mouths had to be fed, and you all needed supplies for the coming winter.

And it was precisely these necessary supplies that prompted Rick to ask you to go on a run the next day with others. Of course, you immediately agreed, after all, everyone went on these runs at some point. It wouldn't be your first time, and certainly not your last time, that you would take part in something like this.

But who could say that in these uncertain times?

What you did not know at the time was, that Michelle would be there too. Maybe then you would have refused. But now you sat in the back seat of the pickup truck in silence, staring stubbornly out the window.

Michelle just a few inches away from you.

It had been clear to Maggie from the start that this constellation would not bring any good. However, even the young woman would not have expected what dimensions the whole thing would take. And in what a heartbreaking catastrophe it would end.

During the entire journey Glenn and Maggie tried to break the mood. The four of you sat in the truck and drove a few hours until you finally arrived at your destination.

It should be a simple thing - in and out, quietly, quickly, unseen.

But what no one had expected was the behavior that Michelle had displayed when it came to doing her part. She had absolutely no desire to be actually a part in this job.

And Michelle let the three of you feel that very clearly.

She neither wanted to help find the necessary supplies nor carry them; even found it outrageous that she had been asked by Rick to join in and risk her life. She had never had to do this before, why now?

It took you so much strength to stay calm and not yell your opinion on Michelle's face - or beat her across the street.

You did not like this woman, not a bit. For you, she was a narrow-minded, self-centered, selfish slut who cared about only herself. And what Daryl saw in her was incomprehensible to you.

But when Michelle began to risk all of your lives because of her loud behavior, even Maggie's patience ran out. The eternal insults in your direction were just the cherry on top. Maggie would have liked nothing more than to give this snotty brat a huge slap in the face.

But to make a shitty day even more shitty, that was unfortunately your smallest problem.

Michelle's loud complaints drew the attention of more and more walkers, and at some point, you had difficulties getting back to your car.

You had just successfully cleared a pharmacy when you saw the horde slowly approaching on the street.

That was by far the worst scenario, and your greatest fear.

It was all happening so quickly, and the only thing you thought was that Michelle had to make it back to the Prison alive. You could not risk Daryl losing someone he loved again. No matter what a fucking bitch she was. You knew it would destroy him.

The way back to the pickup was long and the Walkers unfortunately closer than wanted. The heavy backpacks did not make it any easier to escape them quickly. So you stayed back when Maggie, Glenn, and Michelle started running back towards the truck. You knew your partners needed a distraction to make it through.

And what could be a better distraction than you.

"Come to me you damn motherfuckers! Here I am! Come and catch me you bloody bastards! You ugly fuckers!" you screamed on top of your lungs, tried to make as much noise as possible.

The walkers slowly turned to you and came to hunt you down - to kill you. You would be their lunch. Scared to death your heart was beating so hard in your chest that you thought it was about to pop out.

From that point on, you could not remember anything. Your brain just shut down, went into survival mode. You only ran on instinct, no more active thinking.

In a way, like the Walkers you tried to escape from.

Maggie turned when she heard your voice, and the blood froze in her veins. She thought you were right behind her, but you were still near the entrance to the pharmacy and the horde of walkers was on the way to you.

"Y/N!" her voice was desperate.

She was about to turn back to you – to help you - but Glenn could not and would not let that happen.

"Come on Maggie, we have to get the car. We'll come back for her; I promise."

Glenn took his girlfriend's hand and pulled her forcefully with him.

Michelle had not noticed anything of that, she was the first to take a seat in the pickup and firmly locked the passenger door behind her.

When Glenn finally started the engine and Maggie - now in the back seat - turned her eyes back to the pharmacy entrance, you were gone.

Your best friend was in a panic.

"Where is she? Oh my god, where is she?"

Only then did she see you on the canopy of the building - the backpack with the bandages still firmly strapped around you.

"On the roof, Glenn, she's on the roof! We have to get her!" the young woman screamed in desperation.

She could not and did not want to lose her friend. Not now and not like this.

“and preferably before these things figure out how to climb”, was Glenn's addition when he turned the truck and drove towards the pharmacy.

"Are you crazy," squeaked Michelle, "do you want to die just to maybe save her life?"

Maggie's eyes darkened, and Glenn realized immediately that she had now reached the limit. Another word from Michelle and his girlfriend would feed this woman to the Walkers with no trace of guilt.

"You shut up now, bitch! You're to blame for all this shit. If you’d shut your damn mouth and done what we've all done hundreds of times before, none of this would have happened! These fucking things would never have noticed us."

Michelle gasped to give Maggie a neat answer, but Maggie was faster.

"If I hear one more word from you, if you just beep, I'll feed you to these Walkers!"

Michelle's reply was interrupted by the gruesome sound of breaking bones as Glenn brutally drove through the horde of walkers who were now confused and trying to understand what was going on around them.

You were still standing on the roof. Your gaze was focused on the scene before you but not fearful, as if your self was not there at that moment.

"You have to jump," Glenn called to you when he brought the pickup to a stop right under the roof.

And with that you jumped onto the back of the truck. The fall was higher than expected, and there was a thump as you hit the flatbed. Immediately Glenn had accelerated the car again and drove away as fast as he could in the direction of Prison.

Desperate, Maggie kept calling your name, but you just did not answer. Maybe you were in shock. After all, it was not common practice to voluntarily sacrifice oneself as a meal for these monsters.

A few miles out of town, Glenn finally stopped the car, and Maggie was by your side in an instant. But she was not prepared for what she saw. You were passed out and a small pool of blood had formed under your head. The thud she had heard - when you landed - had been your head when it hit the loading wall.

"Oh my God."

Immediately Maggie was at your side, looking for your pulse with trembling hands. And there it was - weak - but she felt it.

"Please open your eyes Y/N/N", the young woman pleaded as she lovingly brushed the hair off your face.

"Maggie?" Glenn's voice was timid, almost frightened, as he stood next to the pickup and stared at your broken body.

"We have to get her to my father as soon as possible!"

Maggie's harsh words seemed to loosen Glenn from his stupor.

"Okay, no problem, I can do that."

And with that Glenn was back behind the wheel and gave full throttle. Maggie stayed with you on the flatbed, took off your backpack and trying to stop the bleeding on your head.

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

Rick and Daryl were in the courtyard of the prison, discussing the next runs when the pickup truck drove through the gates with screeching tires. It was immediately clear to both of them that something bad must have happened.

Without wasting time, the two men ran towards the car.

"What happened", Rick called out.

But Daryl could not hear Glenn’s answer. Everything around him fell silent and vanished when he saw you - bleeding, passed out - in Maggie's arms.

Without thinking further, he jumped on the flatbed and leaned over you. He caressed your pale cheek with trembling fingertips before desperately looking for a pulse on your neck.

Frightened, he held his breath until he felt it, your heartbeat.

Even but so weak.

"We have to take her to my father."

Maggie had not even finished the sentence when Daryl had already taken you in his arms - bridal style - and was on the way to the infirmary with you.

With a lover's desperation, he clung to you as he ran all the way.

“Don't do this to me. I beg ya, please don't die to me."

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

Daryl never left your side for a moment. He sat like a statue and held your hand. He did not say a word, did not move. Neither when Hershel examined you, nor when he sewed your laceration.

He listened quietly to the vet's diagnosis and what he thought might happen in the next few hours or days.

Only when Maggie came with a bowl of water and a cloth to wash off the dirt and blood did he break free.

"Let me …" Daryls voice cracked, and the knot in his throat made it difficult for him to say anything else.

He took everything from Maggie's hand and put it on the little table next to your bed.

The redneck looked broken. The young woman could clearly see how much he loved you. And she knew that if you died, Daryl would vanish. He would just cease to exist.

“I'm so sorry,” Maggie said quietly, and a tear rolled down her cheek, “I thought she was right behind me. But … but she wasn't."

"It's not ya’ fault." Daryl's voice was barely perceptible.

Slowly he dipped the cloth into the warm water and began to carefully wash the blood off your face.

"Daryl I’m ... I’m"

"I know."

“Y/N is strong, she is tough. She will be okay."

Daryl just nodded absently while he concentrated fully on washing the blood off your temple.

And so Maggie left the redneck alone with you in the infirmary.

With trembling hands, he began to clean your neck. Little by little he washed your whole body- took care of you quietly and lovingly- making dirt, blood and sweat disappear, made you as clean as he saw you before you went on that fucking run.

Then he sat there, hour after hour, just looking at you, holding your hand. You looked so fragile. You lay there injured and pale, almost like a corpse. Only your quiet, even breathing told Daryl that you were still with him.

Inside Daryl, everything contracted painfully at the thought that you might not wake up again. Slowly he leaned towards your face. He looked at every birthmark, every wrinkle, every freckle, as if he wanted to burn them into his memory.

“I don't know if ya can hear me,” he finally began with a trembling voice.

“But I ... I ... I “, he had to laugh bitterly.

“’m a bloody coward. Why can' I jus’ say it?"

Daryl took a deep breath, he had to get his fear under control somehow. He had to tell you. He would never forgive himself if he did not do it now.

What if you died.

"I love ya Y/N. 've been in love with ya since ... I actually have no idea how long. But I love ya. I should have told ya much earlier. I don' know why I didn't. But I love ya."

Daryl fought back tears but lost.

"Oh God please, I beg ya, please come back to me. Give me a chance to show ya how much I love ya. Just one chance to prove myself to ya." and with that Daryl collapsed on top of you, crying and sobbing.

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

It took you two days to open your eyes again. Two days in which Daryl had not left your side. Two days of going through hell and back again. In which even he had sent a quick prayer or two towards heaven.

It was as if you had been awakened from a deep sleep far too abruptly. And it took a while before you knew where you were. You felt dizzy and tired. Your head hurt like hell. And you were confused.

First, why you were in the infirmary, and second, why Daryl was sitting next to your bed looking like he had not slept in days – your hand in his.

"Hey," he whispered, "how are ya feelin’?"

"Tired", your voice was scratchy from not using it for a long time, "my head hurts."

“You hit ya head bad. Hershel had to patch ya up."

"What happened?"

"Can't ya remember."

"No ... Yes …. but not ... not really ... only up to a certain point."

You were nervous, were not used to Daryl being so close to you. You did not want to make a fuss about yourself, and yet you liked the attention this man was giving you.

“I can still remember the horde of Walkers who came up to me, but then … nothing ... I can't remember what happened then."

You had not noticed that tears had started to run down your temples until Daryl lovingly wiped them away with his thumb.

"Hey ... shh ... take it easy. Everythin’ is okay. Everyone’s fine. Please don't get upset, ya have a concussion. Hershel says ya need a lot of rest now."

And suddenly you were silent. Never before had Daryl spoken to you with such a loving tone in his voice or had touched you in this way. You did not understand what was happening here.

But he said you had a concussion. Perhaps it was to blame for this filter through which you noticed this whole interaction.

“I'll let Hershel know that ya woke up. I'll be right back; promise."

Confused, you looked after the redneck. Something had happened that you had no idea about. But you did not want to worry about it now. Your head hurt too much, and you just wanted to sleep.

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

When you opened your eyes again, Hershel was sitting in the chair on which you had previously seen Daryl.

"It's nice to see you again with your eyes open Y/N," said the older man with a friendly smile, "you worried us very much."

"‘m sorry. "

"It's okay. How do you feel?"

"Okay. Tired, head hurts."

"Something else?"

"No, except that I feel like I'm wrapped in cotton wool."

Hershel sat and listened to you before nodding.

"Daryl said you can't remember what happened."

"Not really."

"Don't worry, that's nothing unusual with this type of head injury."

He patted your shoulder encouragingly.

"Will I be able to remember one day?"

"You know kid, sometimes it is really good not to be able to remember some things."

"Probably."

“But now you should rest first. I know you have questions, but answers will come later. After all, you have to regain your strength."

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

You knew you had slept, but not for how long. Because the next time you opened your eyes, Carol was sitting on that same chair. But there was something else. Could it be that it smelled of her venison ragout?

"How are you, Y/N/N?"

"Still tired, but the headache is almost gone."

"Good to hear. You gave us all a real scare."

"I'm sorry."

"Especially Daryl. I've never seen him so frightened."

You looked questioningly at the older woman next to you. You were used to it that she kept dropping allusions about Daryl - at least when she talked to you. But you just did not understand that statement at all.

Daryl was never afraid of anything. Why would he ...

"Well. Are you hungry?" Carol had a friendly smile on her face when it broke your train of thought.

At that moment, your stomach made a loud rumbling noise.

“I'll take that as a yes,” smirked the gray-haired woman, “Daryl went hunting so that I could cook this. He knows it’s your favorite."

Unsure you looked at Carol before you took the bowl from her hand and slowly began to eat. It was true, that was your favorite food - if there was such a thing at all in times like this.

"You know that he loves you," she suddenly began out of nowhere

"Of course, we are family," did you try to belittle the matter.

“Okay, let's reformulate the whole thing again. Daryl is in love with you, absolutely and one hundred percent madly in love with you. A 'you're the only one for me' love. Without any misunderstanding."

When she said that, you choked on the stew right away and now you sat in front of her, coughing and snorting.

“And I know you love him too. So don't try to deny it at all. Everyone here knows that. Or how blind do you think we are? Although ... apart from Daryl. He has no idea. He probably wouldn't even understand if it bites his ass.”

At this picture you had to laugh.

“Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith in order to reach their goal. You two really have to start talking clearly to each other. You two belong together like pepper and salt Do you actually notice how much you waste your precious time? Neither of us knows how much of it is left. You should know that now, because honey it was damn close."

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

Sleeping was your main occupation right now. A concussion took time and a lot of rest to heal. So it wasn't uncommon for your life to consist of short scenes at the moment.

With a sound - like a purring cat - you stretched in the hospital bed before opening your eyes. You no longer had any sense of time, and only the sunlight falling through the barred windows told you that it was probably afternoon.

"Hey."

Only now did you notice that Daryl was with you again.

"Ya feel better?"

"Yes."

Daryl seemed kind of nervous. But that wasn't possible, why should he?

"I've been here before, but ya slept and I don't want to wake ya", his words just gushed out of him.

Could it be? Was he nervous?

"Okay ... yes ... uhm ..."

You were easily overwhelmed with this situation, and somehow your head just seemed to have been swept clean. You could not find any words.

"We take turns. Hershel thinks there should always be someone with ya. Because of the concussion. Rick has already been here, and Maggie of course."

"And Carol."

"Yea."

"I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For the food. Carol said you went hunting especially for it."

"No problem."

“I still appreciate it. And for ... that you are here ... with me."

He nudged his nose up in a nod.

And then there was silence. The conversation with Carol kept going through your head. What she said. Could it really be true?

You knew that Daryl has always been more of a man of action than a man of words. And it was clear to you that if you did not take the first step now, you two would probably never get anywhere.

"Carol spoke to me", you started when you sat up

The man across from you was obviously nervous now. You could tell all too clearly by the fact that he was starting to chew the inside of his cheek.

"With me too."

"Apparently something like an intervention is going on here, could that be", you smiled, trying to loosen up the mood a bit.

"Seems so."

Daryl looked at you for a few moments. You could see the wheels turning in his head.

"I'm a coward, Y/N," he finally began.

You had expected a lot, but not a statement like that.

"No, you’re not. How did you come up with such an idea?"

"I was a complete idiot and too cowardly."

"What are you talking about Daryl."

In your opinion, this was going completely wrong right now. You actually wanted to tell him you loved him, and now it seemed to end in a vortex of self-doubt.

"I love ya, Y/N.”

And with that your thoughts became silent.

“I am terribly in love with ya. And out of fear I didn't say anything. But then I saw ya lying on the flatbed of that fucking truck, covered in blood and passed out. At that moment, my heart stopped. And I swore to myself that when ya're okay again, when ya've got throu’ this, that I'll finally tell ya what I feel for ya. Y/N I love ya. "

During Daryl's monologue you forgot how to breathe and just listened intently while thousands of butterflies fluttered around in your stomach like they're having a bloody party there.

It took you some time to realize that Daryl was waiting for a reaction from you as he gnawed his thumb in fear.

"I love you too," it gushed out of you before you even realized you had said something.

And then there was silence again. You and Daryl just looked at each other. Unsure what to do now. After all, you were both in uncharted waters.

"And ... and now," you asked uncertainly.

"Don't know," Daryl just shrugged.

"I mean ... um ... are ... are we ... together now?"

You carefully ventured out of cover.

"Um, yea ... if ya ... if ya want that."

"Oh my god, yes please", you replied in one breath.

Suddenly the tension between you had dissolved and you both had to laugh. It was so surreal. Two adults acted like teenagers in love who had no idea what to do.

But then Daryl slowly leaned in towards you. Your heart was pounding when you could finally feel his breath on your face. But before your lips touched, he stopped. He wanted to give you the opportunity to evade him if you did not want this.

But you wanted it, wanted it more than anything else in your life. And when you had overcome the last few inches, you finally felt his lips on yours.

The feeling was amazing. As if at that moment an electric shock had run through your whole body, and at the same time it was like coming home.

Everything around you no longer existed, was no longer important. Here and now, it was just you and Daryl. The way his lips moved with yours, how his fingers slowly ran up your arms until they were in your hair.

Everything was so intense. And when you finally parted to take a much-needed breath, Daryl leaned his forehead against yours.

"Ya have no idea how long I've been dreamin’ about this."

"Probably as long as me."

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

When Rick was about to visit Y/N in the early evening hours, he saw Carol and Maggie standing in the door to the infirmary.

"Everything's okay," he wanted to know.

The two women turned around with their index fingers over their lips.

"Shhhh."

Both did at the same time.

"Be quiet and come here," Carol whispered, "you really have to see that."

Rick approached the two women curiously. What could be so interesting that Carol and Maggie were half-hidden behind the door, staring into the infirmary?

He was confused, but when he saw what fascinated them so much, his heart swell. A satisfied smile played on his lips, as he was seeing what was going on less than five paces away.

Daryl was lying - half sitting - on the bed. His back supported on the wall behind him. Y/N was snuggled close to him, head on his chest and her arm wrapped around him. Absently, the fingers of his right hand traced patterns on her upper arm as he read to her from an old paperback.

Everyone could see the love that bound these two people. And thank God the two finally understood that.

"Seems like we finally have a happy ending," said the former deputy with a broad smile.

"Thank God", Maggie exhaled, "nobody wanted to watch this puppy love shit anymore."

“Yes,” laughed Rick, “but you have to admit there was something exciting about the whole thing. As if it had been our very own little soap opera."

"You're right, but I prefer my best friend happy."

"And what do we do now. I mean this seemingly endless heartbreak theater has come obviously to an end."

"Gossip- Rick is afraid he'll get bored?"

Maggie's voice was teasing.

"No, that's not how it was meant."

"Don't worry, Rick," said Carol with a smile, "I think the whole thing has a sequel anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, has someone told Michelle yet?"

All three looked at each other with big eyes before they having to resist laughing convulsively.

This story could get really interesting after all, they agreed.

part two

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon x Reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #Daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x plus size reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon imagine

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madrigaljail · 2 years

Text

In-Laws Apocrypha

AUGUST 2023 EDIT: The scene is canon now as the fifth chapter of the same boy you’ve always known, so for the correct version look there!

Sooo before Turn of the Hourglass A Prophet In His Own Land started being posted I was struggling with a scene of twenty-year-old disaster Bruno giving Jose Guzman a vision, because I couldn’t stop writing it. And because I was writing backwards the next scene would have been the 20th anniversary of the Miracle (which ended up being WAY different when it finally got written), and then there was going to be more El Brujo Loco nonsense probably into infinity. It was quickly hijacking the story and I had to drastically course-correct but I didn’t want to lose all that work, so I did the logical thing and posted the vision scene under the title ‘intermezzo’ for instant gratification/to get it out of my system. When I finally got around to posting chapter 1 of Prophet I decided I had STILL screwed up, deleted ‘intermezzo’, and decided EBL would get his own fic.

A zillion words and a bunch of plot development later the original no longer works and needs a rewrite, but I’m still fond of chunks of it, so I’m popping it here for posterity. Behold the original unfiltered dumpster fire when he’s pretty much at the end of his rope, in ~1800 words:

~*~

The fact that Bruno did not like being surprised should not have been…well, surprising, given his Gift. But by age twenty he’d twisted that bit of trivia into a mythology that he literally could not be surprised. His sisters and few remaining friends rolled their eyes at this notion, but for the rest of the Encanto it was one more spooky facet to add to the stories of el brujo loco.

It gave him more material to work with, let him test his improvisational skills any time he got unexpected news or shocking events came to pass. He’d respond with a cryptic, knowing smile, waggle his fingers, lift his eyebrows, and declare that he knew this would come to pass. His not-acting hobby of being something of a social voyeur helped with this, keeping the real surprises to a minimum.

(Around this time Félix took to sneaking up on him with intent to startle, just to knock him off his insufferable pedestal.)

So when he rolled out of his hammock one…time of day to discover Doña Mercedes’ oldest son Jose Guzmán sitting patiently outside his vision cave it was only an artful heartbeat before his lips curved into a feral grin.

“Ah, there you are, poca Señor Guzmán,” Bruno said with a bow, arms spread wide. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Jose, brow slightly furrowed, watched his performance with an expression annoyingly close to pity. “I’ve been waiting an hour. Good evening, Señor Madrigal.” The title momentarily paused Bruno in the act of reaching for a bottle, but he covered it by changing his mind and snagging the last arepa from the basket Pepa had brought up…sometime. There were teeny tiny bites already taken out of it. “I have an important decision to make, and I’m sorry but I need to trouble you for a vision.”

“Trouble me?” Bruno repeated, took a bite of the arepa, grimaced, and grabbed the bottle as well. “My dear old friend, it’s not trouble, my Gift is freely given to support the Encanto and strengthen our community.”

Ah, no, that sounded a bit too much like Mamá. He popped the cork with his thumb and cast around for a glass. Finding none worth using - and having decided to lay his hopeless degenerate act on a bit thick - he took a long pull directly from the bottle.

It was more vinegar than wine. He hoped the dim light kept his watering eyes from notice.

“Then I thank you for your generosity, señor,” Jose said with a gracious nod and got to his feet. No, yes, Bruno realized that look in the older man’s eyes was definitely pity and it rankled him. “Do you…ah, need some time to prepare?”

He could only imagine the state he was in and hoped it was like the mural and not- well, no, he actually didn’t care. Probably. Bruno waved off Jose’s concerns(?), set down the bottle and the arepa, and wandered over to remove his ceremonial ruana from its hook. His nose wrinkled as he burrowed into it. It needed to be laundered. He’d thought that the last two times he’d put it on as well.

The door to the cave proper was flung open and Bruno bowed again with a flourish of fringe, gesturing inside. “Your future awaits, Señor Guzmán.”

Jose inclined his head and stepped inside while Bruno followed after, stifling a yawn and instructing the other man to sit within the circle. He gathered the herbs, grimaced when he only found half the salt he’d like, then kicked together the five little sand piles before adding leaves.

“Now, I can do this blind, of course,” he said and settled down across from Jose, fumbling around for his matches. “But if you’ve got a specific query…I’ll need to hear it.”

Jose nodded and watched him fail to light one match, a second, and then he reached out and took the box from Bruno’s hands, igniting the third on the first attempt before handing it back carefully. “I understand.”

Bruno gave him a look which he hoped was more contemptuous than petulant and set about lighting small fires. Possibility wafted around him, the familiar tug toward what should be unknown, unknowable, and he finally shed all his pretenses. He’d debase himself, mock the miracle, embrace the scorn of others because it all made more sense than to let it hurt him. No prophet is welcome in his own land, after all, so it all had to be the joke he treated it as.

Right up until Time surged through him and made his eyes blaze like foxfire, until his hands stretched before him in entreaty because more than anything else he longed to See.

The wind whipped around them, and Jose’s hands slid into his own. “What do you wish to know?”

“When I leave the Encanto, will you come with me?”

Bruno gawped and tried to pull away but it was too late, the sand swirled up and Time swallowed him whole.

Short answer: no. Jose will trek through the mountains alone, meet missionaries in the first town he comes across, and go to Medellín, to the monastery, and he will supplicate himself before his brothers, and spend his life contemplating the words and actions of God. And Bruno…

The church ravaged by a storm. Julieta smiling and handing him a small bundle. Casita at sunset. A pair of rats nestled in his hands. Doors glowing with untapped potential. The familiar feel of a tambourine in his hand, his own laughter. A view of the dining room; from the perspective he must be standing behind his mother, indistinct faces are lining a much longer table. Riding on horseback through the forest-

The vision tore back to Jose at the end, him alone in a monk’s cell with hands folded in prayer, and that was what got put to glass.

Bruno snatched the plate from the air as the sand collapsed around them, panting for breath. He shook his head.

“I stay, you go,” he muttered and offered the panel to the other man. “You…you get to seek out your brothers and- and Jose what the fuck was that?” He never intentionally looked into his own future, he’s much too much of a coward for that, and having part of a vision of it accidentally teased out of him had him rattled. “Why would you ask that? How could you even think I’d leave here?”

Jose finished studying the panel, set it aside, and reached out to grip Bruno’s shoulders. “Because I hoped you would, because staying here, doing this, is killing you.”

“Oh for-” Bruno surged to his feet and started pacing, laughing. Ah, he hadn’t heard that concern for what felt like ages. “My good dear señor, Time is killing me, is killing you, is killing us all!” He spun in place with his arms in the air, a parody of a pirouette. He pointed at Jose, his smile a snarl. “That- that is what no one understands. None of us can control it, no one among us can change it, sand falls, clocks tick, why bother to fight it?”

Slowly, Jose got to his feet until he was looking down at him - to Bruno it felt like everyone looked down at him - and then he sighed, sadly.

“Because there are more things in heaven and earth, Bruno, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” He folded his hands before him and looked around the cave like it was a holy sanctuary. Finally his eyes met Bruno’s again and he shook his head. “And because you’re not the masterful actor you think you are. If you care so little, why put so much effort into making sure everyone knows it?”

There would have been a denial if the afterimages of peaceful, mundane moments to come weren’t still floating in his mind, taking him off-script. Though… “Speaking of acting,” he snapped and this time jabbed Jose in the chest. “Since when do you have any concerns about my well-being? D’you know what my earliest memory is?”

“Which one?” Jose drawled, and that gracious pity finally slid into familiar irritation.

Bruno ignored the question and held up his left hand. “You and your little brother holding my hand in a fire ant’s nest, telling me to stop crying because my sister would be able to make the pain stop!”

“Lo siento, lo siento, I’ve said it dozens of times before and I’ll pray for forgiveness for that and all the other awful things I did as a child for the rest of my life.” That, that was sincere. “Jesucristo, Bruno, people grow up, they change. You can’t live like this forever.”

“Watch me,” Bruno muttered and stepped back, turning to kick the evidence of the ritual away. “Ah, no, that’s right: you won’t. You’re leaving. Here.”

He stooped to pick up the vision plate and handed it over with a final bow. “Go on, get out. Get thee to a monastery. And show this to your mother, I can picture the look on her face and it’s priceless.”

Jose did as he was told and pushed the vision cave’s door open, then paused on the other side as he came to a decision of his own. “Señor Madrigal, if you want to call yourself the man of this house, you’d do well to start acting like it.”

Bruno cackled. “Oh, Señor Guzmán, you sound just like-”

Wait.

I’ve been waiting an hour.

Who would have let him in? Who would have spoken to him about getting a vision? Who would know he didn’t look into his own future? Who would know how to manipulate a question so that he’d be forced to?

He turned and ran through the door, past Jose, picking up speed as he passed those tortured images of himself in stone.

“Casita! The quick way!”

Bruno hit the ledge and leaped, ruana billowing behind him and Jose crying out in shock, then a makeshift swing flew toward him and he grasped the rope in his hands, feet planted on the wooden plank, and he spiraled downward. The post-vision headache was starting to pound but it was nothing compared to the roaring fury in his ears, the burn against his palms when the swing came to a sudden stop and he let himself tumble into the sand.

Dimly, he noted that the trip took a little longer than expected. More stairs, then. Good.

He picked himself up, brushed himself off, and stalked toward his door.

“Where’s Mamá?”

#the madrigal in-laws #my writing #el brujo loco hours

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

Text

meet the wealseys (f.w.)

prompt: you met fred at the joke shoppe when you had first arrived from america. after dating for a little while, he asks you to come and meet his family. needless to say, your visit to the burrow was one you’ll never forget.

pairing: post war! fred weasley x fem! american! reader

warnings: mention of the war and death, food and eating

word count: 6.4k

Diagon Alley was much different than what you had pictured, but in the best way possible. The tight quarters were packed with people as you pushed through, looking at the different store fronts, seeing how each one was uniquely different and magical. This was not what you were used to in the States, but you knew that you would become adjusted very soon. The hustle and bustle was refreshing and exciting for a young girl starting a new life abroad. As you continued to stroll along the alley, people called out to each other, exchanging sickles and galleons for merchandise, laughing and hugging each other, poking a smile onto your face. There were many stores to choose from, but you kept your eyes peeled for a store front that jumped out at you.

It didn’t take long for that to happen.

Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, the banner clearly spelt out with a animatronic person, tilting his hat up. Number 93 Diagon Alley.

Your curiosity stirred inside of you as you shrugged and pushed the front door open. Sounded interesting enough. As you entered the shoppe, you were instantly greeted with screaming children, things zooming past you, and so many colors. The shoppe itself radiated childhood joy which made your heart soar with excitement.

Walking through out the store, you quickly realized that this was a joke shoppe with countless amounts of products. Ones that you were familiar with and others that you had never heard of. You laughed to yourself as you saw Dungbombs and U-No-Poos. “Clever,” you spoke to yourself as you continued to walk through the aisles of the stores. Whomever started this joke shoppe clearly had an affinity for their childhood and having fun; something you could gladly get on board with.

As you walked around, you saw how excited everyone was in the store. It was full of life and nostalgia and joy. There was laughter, smiles, and cheering; how could one not love it here? The store’s energy itself made you want to stay forever. As if England couldn’t get any better.

You filed through the shelves, shuffling through brightly colored packaging and funny titled products that brought glee to your face. Maybe you could purchase a few things and send some of them home back to your family and friends in America. They would get a kick out of these. Slowly, you had accumulated a pile of toys and such in your arms. I must look out of my mind, you think to yourself. A 20 year old girl by herself in a joke shoppe, carrying poop themed jokes.

“Need a basket?” a voice calls from behind you as you flip around. Standing there was a tall, well dressed man with flaming red hair gelled swiftly away from his face as he smiled at you. His chocolate brown eyes were warm and comforting and his smile was enough to have you weak in the knees. “Seems like you got your hands full,” he speaks before ducking his right eye down in a cheeky wink.

His forwardness took you by shock. You stammered for a second before finally speaking, “Yeah, sure, thank you.” He hands you a basket that you dump all of the products in. “I appreciate it, thanks,” you smile back at him.

The red haired gentleman speaks, “It’s my job. Literally.” You chuckle lightly, nodding your head, realizing he was the owner of the shoppe. The uniform, the proud badge he wore on his suit jacket, the amount of confidence he exuded. It made sense. “You’ve got a fine selection of products in your basket, I must admit,” he smiles, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Some of our bestsellers.”

You smile back at him, tilting your head, trying to get a read on him. Was he trying to flirt? Or was he just trying to make a sale? “I suppose that’s why I’m buying them. Although, not all of them are for me, I must admit,” you sigh. “I’m sending some to my family back home. Figured my brother will like it.”

The owner nods his head, “Ah, yes. Nothing a brother loves more than poop themed pranks. What a brilliant sister you are,” he winks as you lightly chuckle. “I figure home is the States for you?” he asks as you furrow your brows, wondering how he knew. “Your accent. It’s pretty recognizable,” he laughs as you roll your eyes. “What brings you to London?”

At first, you hesitated sharing your story with a business owner of a joke shoppe that you had just met. But there was something about him that made you want to trust him. “I graduated from Ilvermorny four years ago. I decided I wanted to move out of the States to find other work to see if there were more job opportunities here. I moved here about a month or two ago,” you tell the flame haired man who leaned against the wall, listening to you intently as his eyes darted from your eyes to your body, quite obviously checking you out. You gulp when his eyes meet yours with a smirk on his face. Within an instant, you decide to play his game. “Besides, there are cuter men in London.”

He chuckles at your joke and nods his head. “Understandable. Seems like you moved for very important reasons,” he replies as you blush. “Can I check you out?”

You freeze. “Can you what?”

The gentleman laughs at your surprise. “Your merchandise? Can I ring you up?” he clarifies as you exhale a breath with a blush, lightly laughing before nodding. “Brilliant...besides, I’ve been checking you out since you walked into the store,” he simply states before leading the way to the cash register. Your heart stops as your mouth runs dry. At least he was honest. “I didn’t get your name,” he speaks as he ducks behind the counter, taking your basket and ringing up your things. “I’m Fred.”

Fred. The name suited him. You smile, “(Y/N),” you speak, extending you hand to shake his as he does so with a smirk on his lips. “The shoppe is really amazing. You must be proud of it,” you praise him as he smiles proudly.

“We are,” he speaks as you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “My brother and I run the shoppe together. He’s my twin,” he reveals.

“Twin?” you clarify.

“Yeah, twin. Georgie!” Fred calls out into the shoppe.

Suddenly, from behind a stack of boxes pops out a figure identical to Fred. “Good God,” you breathe out. The twin, now known as George, walks over to Fred as Fred slings an arm around his brother. As they stand next to each other, you realize just how identical they were. The only way telling them apart was the color of the shirt they wore. This would surely be trouble.

“George, this is (Y/N). She recently moved here from America,” Fred tells George who smiles widely at you, extending his hand to shake yours as you gladly accept it. “(Y/N), this is George, my twin.”

With a large smile, you speak to George, “Pleasure to meet you. I see where Fred gets his handsome looks from,” you joke around, making George laugh wildly.

“Oh, you’re brilliant. I like you already,” George beams before nudging his brother with a knowing look. Fred gave his brother a shove as George smirked at him, knowing exactly what was going on here. Unbeknownst to you. “Well, I hope this isn’t the last I see of you, (Y/N). I’ve got to go restock some shelves, but don’t be a stranger,” George tells you, very friendly for just having met each other.

And just as quickly as he came, he’s gone, disappearing behind boxes. “He seems lovely,” you tell Fred who rolls his eyes, making you giggle.

Fred shakes his head, “Ball breaker,” he huffs. “But he’s my brother. Gotta love him,” he smiles. “That’ll be three galleons,” he chimes. You look at him puzzled. There was enough merchandise there to be well over ten galleons, but he was only charging you three. But before you can protest, Fred speaks, “The new girl discount,” he winks as you smile at him gratefully before handing him three galleons. “I hope your brother enjoys his things.”

You look up at Fred and gulp. The fact that this complete stranger had you at a loss of words was beyond you. “I’m sure he’ll love them,” you speak honestly as Fred smiles softly. “I hope this isn’t the last time we see each other, Fred,” you reveal to him honestly. There was something about Fred that made you want to be around him. The life he had inside of him was enticing and exciting; he was different than other men you have met in London.

Looking into your eyes, Fred gulps before speaking, “I’m sure it won’t be. In fact, since you’re still new to London, maybe I could show you around this weekend? I know a few good spots in the area. You know, since I’m a local.”

His words make a grin appear on your lips as you nod your head, “That sounds really nice, Fred. I’d like that.”

“Wicked,” Fred breathes out as you giggle. “Saturday? We can make a day of it? We’ll meet here and I’ll give you a very comprehensive tour,” he wiggles his brows as you smile with a nod. “Until then, (Y/N).”

You give Fred a small wave goodbye before exiting the joke shoppe with two bags full of pranks and toys. And now a date for Saturday.

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

“Fred, let’s get a move on! The shop opens in twenty and it’s new release day!” George yells from outside the bedroom door as Fred groan, cuddling further into your chest as you rub his back. “(Y/N)! Stop distracting my git brother!”

You chuckle as Fred calls back out, “Leave her out of this, you wanker! I’ll be ready in five!” George groans from outside of the door before you hear his footsteps disappear into the kitchen. Fred looks up at you as he lays on your chest, you brushing his floppy red hair out of his eyes. “I guess that’s my cue,” Fred huffs before peeling himself off you, rubbing his face with a groan.

It had been three months since you had met Fred that day in the joke shoppe. Three months since he had flirted with you and you had gone out on your first date. There was undeniable chemistry between you and Freddie. He adored how you loved to joke around, not taking yourself or anything too seriously. He adored that way you looked around London with such wonder and curiosity with wide eyes and smile. Fred loved the way you threw your head back with you laughed and gave his hand a squeeze. Fred loved when you bit back a smile when you teased him before giving in and falling into a fit of giggles. Fred was smitten with you and you him. You adored his confidence and professionalism, but you adored even more the way he could act like a fool at the drop of a hat. Fred was childlike in the best way possible. He was a breath of fresh air. He was what you needed when you moved here.

“Oh, come on, Freddie,” you sit up in the bed, Fred’s large t-shirt draped over your body. “It’s new release day! That should be loads of fun! Besides, after the work day is over, you know I’ll be waiting for you,” you kiss his shoulder blade. You worked just up the road at the Apothecary, so it was easy for Fred to run over and see you on his lunch break. That was Fred’s favorite part of the day. He secretly wished that you didn’t get another job, so he could easily run over on those lunch breaks to steal a quick kiss and see your face. Even if it was for three minutes.

Fred begrudgingly pulls on his suit pants, huffing, “I can only hope that this release goes well. George and I invested a lot into this release and if it doesn’t do well, then we’ll lose a lot.”

You give your darling a knowing look, “It won’t do poorly, Fred. You and I both know that.” Fred gives you a gentle smile as he buttons up his shirt. “Come here,” you sit up on your knees as Fred walks over the edge of the bed. You pull his tie around his neck before tying it for him, something you knew he loved. “Today is going to be a brilliant day and you are going to sell out. I feel it in my gut.”

Fred takes your chin in his fingers, forcing your gaze up to his. His eyes look into yours with adoration before he pulls you in for a sweet kiss as you smile into it. Fred’s lips move gently against yours, making your stomach sway in excitement. Kissing Fred never got old. He gently pull away from you, pushing his forehead against yours. “I love you, angel,” he coos as you blush. He pecks the tip of your nose before sighing, “I’ll stop by the apothecary around lunch to update you on how sales are going.”

With a small nod, you watch him open the bedroom door and get ready to leave. “I love you, Freddie. You’ll be great,” you call after him as he sends you a wink.

“What about me?!” George’s voice booms from the other room.

You laugh and sigh, “You’ll be phenomenal, Georgie!”

“Hah! I got a phenomenal and you got a great, Fred! Guess (Y/N) has a favorite twin!” George teases his brother as you hear a slap and George squeal an Ouch!

“Oh, would you shut your fat mouth and get downstairs!” Fred exclaims at his brother, making you chuckle.

The sounds of the twins banter slowly faded as they descended the stairs of the flat down to the shoppe below. You smiled to yourself as you pried yourself off of Fred’s comfortable linens and forced yourself to get ready for your own job that awaited you.

Soon enough, the lunch hour rolled around and you were finishing helping a customer purchase a bunch of ingredients for a spell. “Have a lovely day,” you chimed as you handed her a bag full of her things.

As she left the apothecary, you exhaled deeply and arched your back, stretching the kinks in your back. Standing on your feet all day really took a lot out of you.

The bell at the front door chimed signaling that another customer had arrived. Mindlessly, you begin speaking, “Good afternoon and welcome. Is there something I can assist you w-”

You are briskly cut off by a pair of lips on yours as you instantly melt into Fred’s touch, humming gently into your embrace. Fred pulls away with a large grin on his face. “Hi, Freddie,” you speak.

“How did you know it was me and not George,” he questions you, poking at your sides. “How do you know it’s not George right now pretending to be Fred? Huh?”

In between giggles, you manage to speak, “I know my boyfriend, Fred.” Fred halts his tickling as you smile up at him. “Besides, George has a more square jaw than you do. You also have calloused finger pads from opening boxes and George doesn’t because he carries the inventory,” you recount as Fred looked at you, quite impressed that you had little tells between him and his twin brother. “Anyway, how are sales going? Business booming?”

Fred smiles widely before you jump on the counter, Fred standing in between your legs. “Better than booming. We sold out at eleven in the morning. Nearly an hour after we opened,” Fred gushes as you gasp, pulling him in for a tight hug. You weren’t surprised that the release went well; the boys knew their demographic and always knew what the people wanted. “But that’s not all the good news, my love.”

You give your boyfriend and knowing look. “Really?” you ask as he nods. “Oh, I’m scared.”

“No need to be,” he chuckles. “I called my mum to tell her the good news and she thinks a celebration is in order. She invited us, all of us, to come home for the weekend. Everyone will be home. Me, George, Ron, Percy, Ginny, Mum, Dad. I assume that Hermione and Harry’ll be there too because bloody hell it’s not home without them. Mum even said that Bill and Fleur may stop by at one point! It’ll be a mini vacation! Isn’t that brilliant?” he beams.

But instead of cheering in glee, your heart freezes. Going to Fred’s childhood home to meet his family and his friends? Not just for dinner. For the weekend. You had no idea what to expect. You knew that Fred had a large family and he spoke highly about all of them. He told you stories of his childhood and Hogwarts and he always seemed to speak of it all with such love.

It’s not that you didn’t want to meet his family, you just didn’t want to not meet their expectations that they had for Fred. From the stories Fred and George had told you, Mrs. Weasley was very protective over her children. Especially after the war. With Fred nearly dying, she was especially careful with Fred. The last thing you wanted was to make his mother disappointed in his choice of a partner and even more terrifying, you didn’t want your beloved boyfriend’s mother hate you.

“(Y/N)? You haven’t said anything? You alright?” Fred snaps you out of your thoughts as you shake your head, bringing you back to reality. “Do you want to come home and meet my family?” he excitedly asks you, taking your hands in his as he kisses the backs of them tenderly, looking up at you hopeful for your response.

You couldn’t say no. It would break Fred’s heart. Besides, you were going to have to meet them eventually. With a deep breath, you reply, “Of course I do, Freddie love.”

Fred claps his hands together, “Wicked. Oh, this is bloody brilliant. I’ll have to run back to the shoppe and ring her and tell her to make an extra place setting for tonight.” Fred looks at you, childish joy bubbling in his eyes as you sigh softly, giving him a gentle smile. The look on his face made you fall in love with him all over again. “I can’t wait for them to meet you. They’re gonna love you,” he tells you, holding your face in between his calloused hands as you smile. “Godric, I love you,” he breathes before kissing you quickly. “Okay, I’ve got to get back to the shoppe. But after you’re done with work, go pack a bag, and meet me and George back at our flat. We’ll apparate from there!”

And with that, Fred is out of the apothecary without another word, leaving you speechless, still sitting on the counter. As you sit there, just puzzled, your co-worker notices your predicament and laughs, “Meeting the family tonight, eh?”

“Seems like it,” you gulp.

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

You stood nervously in the living room of the twins’ flat, overnight bag in hand as you nervously nibbled on your fingernails. George yelled things to Fred from his bedroom as the two twins chaotically packed their bags and gathered things for their weekend stay. “Do you think we should bring our own brooms?” Fred boomed from his room.

“No,” George yelled back. “The ones that are in the shed will be just fine.”

Brooms? Should you have brought a broom? Your eyes dart to Fred who emerges from his room, duffel in hand with a large smile on his face. “Should I have brought a broom?” you ask him.

Fred laughs and shakes his head. “No, all you need to bring is your beautiful, wonderful self,” he speaks, kissing your forehead. “Georgie, let’s get this show on the road!”

“Coming, coming!” George bellows before appearing from his room, backpack on with another small bag in his hand. “Would you like to do the honors?” he smiles at Fred.

“Thought you’d never ask, brother,” he beams before pulling his wand from his pocket. “Everyone ready? Got all their things?” Fred looks at George who gives him a confident nod as you feign confidence and give Fred a small smile. “Brilliant...” he trails off before with a flick of his wand and a whoosh.

And suddenly before your eyes, you are not in the flat anymore. Instead, lush green grass is beneath your feet and the smell of rosemary and thyme floats around in the air. Ahead of you stands a proud, tall house that have Fred and George grinning from ear to ear. They were home.

Within seconds, George speaks, “Last one inside carries up all the bags!”

Fred and George are instantly set in a mad dash as you roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile. You slowly walk behind them, carrying your bag, heart beating hard against your chest. The time was now and there was no avoiding it.

When you reach the front entrance, George looks at you, “(Y/N)! You didn’t even try!” You laugh and shake your head. “Eh, it’s fine. We’ll force Ron to carry all the luggage upstairs,” George shrugs.

Fred appears and grabs your hand, pulling you inside with a bright smile. “Mum! Dad! We’re home!” Fred calls out before chatter starts blooming from all areas of the house, making your heart race. Fred looks at your nervous eyes and squeezes your hand. “No need to worry. I’m telling you they’re going to adore you.”

First down the stairs is Ginny, the only Weasley daughter. Her eyes land on her two other brothers as she grins widely. “Look what the cat dragged in,” she laughs before George scoops her up in a tight hug, spinning her around as they both laugh wildly. George puts her down only for Fred to do the same thing to his younger sister. “I missed you both so much. Home isn’t the same without you two,” she speaks to her brothers.

Fred pulls his sister into his side, “We missed you too. Everyday we miss you, little.” Ginny smiles up at her brother. “Gin, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N). (Y/N), meet the littlest Weasley, Ginny.”

“I may be the littlest, but I’ll still kick both of your asses,” Ginny pushes her brother teasingly. Ginny smiles at you widely. “I’ve heard all about you. And by all about you I mean I’ve heard what Fred tells Mum who tells me,” she laughs as you smile. “Can I give you a hug?” she asks.

You smile, “Absolutely.” Ginny embraces you tightly as you smile widely. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Fred and George speak so highly of you.”

Ginny pulls away from her embrace and speaks, “They better.” You laugh. She had the same sense of humors as her brothers. “Your accent is so pretty. Well, I mean, all of you is pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Well done, Fred!” Ginny compliments, making Fred blush a deep crimson. “You could probably do much better than him, you know that?” she teases, making you laugh. You and Ginny would get along just fine.

“Alright, enough of all that,” Fred grabs your hand, pulling you away from Ginny.

Shortly after Ginny’s arrival follows bumbling footsteps and a voice that says, “Full house already! Bill and Fleur haven’t even arrived. I’m not giving up my bed for anyone, hear me?” George immediately tackles the Weasley brother to the floor, making him cry out. “George, get the bloody hell off of me, you git!”

George laughs, “Aw, I missed you too, Won-Won!”

Fred bursts out into laughter before George climbs off of the tackled brother. “Hey, Ronald,” Fred messes up his brothers hair as Ron shakes his head with a smile. “Missed you.”

Ron smiles at his brothers, “Missed you both too. Although the tackle wasn’t appreciated.” Ron glares at George who gives him a firm pat on the back. “You must be (Y/N),” Ron smiles warmly at you extending his hand for a shake. “Really nice to meet you.”

“You too. Didn’t realize that it was customary for your brothers to attack you when returning home,” you laugh as Ron shakes his head.

“Neither did I. Every day is a surprise here,” he huffs. “One second, pardon me,” he excuses himself. “’Mione! Fred’s girlfriend is here!” Ron calls up the stairs. “Gin and ‘Mione have been dying for another girl in the house for forever. She’ll be happy to see you.”

You smile at Ron, “Always good to have more girls. Gotta balance out the playing field.”

As soon as you say that, who you can assume is Hermione along with another boy with jet black hair comes down the stairs, of which you can assume is Harry Potter. Ron was right about Hermione, she was over the moon to have another girl in the house. To quote her, she said, “Thank Godric. Do you know what’s it’s like living with mostly boys? Do you know how many times I’ve almost fall into the toilet because the seat was still up? Too many times, Ronald Weasley!”

Harry on the other hand was much more soft-spoken, but equally as witty as Ron and Hermione. Again, making a comment based on how you were way out of Fred’s league. “Merlin, Fred, how do you do it?” Harry said. “(Y/N), blink once if you need help,” Harry joked, making Ron and Ginny crack up. You, of course, played along with the joke, blinking three times, making the friends laugh harder.

“Okay, okay, enough of that,” Fred pulls you away. “Percy! Mate!”

Coming from outside was who you assumed was Percy alongside Mr. Weasley. Both of them in work clothes, covered in dirt and such, from working outside. “Freddie! George!” Percy beams before engulfing his two brothers in bear hugs. The sight made your heart warm. The love that this family had for each other was enough to make you melt. “Great to see you again. You’re (Y/N), right? Lovely to meet you. So glad you could come over for the weekend!” Percy shakes your hand excitedly as you smile.

“I’m glad to be here!” you admit, now truthfully. Everyone was so lovely and warm. Percy steps away so now Mr. Weasley could meet you. “Mr. Weasley, thank you so much for having me. I’m so delighted to meet you and your family,” you beam.

Mr. Weasley gives you the warmest smile you’ve ever seen and grabs one of your hands squeezing it. “We are even more delighted to have you as a guest in our home. Oh, and please don’t call me Mr. Weasley. Arthur is just fine,” he smiles. “Speaking of our home, where is your mother?” Arthur looks the the rest of the group as they shrug. “Molly! Your sons and their guest have arrived!!” Arthur bellows up the stairs.

Seconds later, a glowing older woman starts down the winding staircase in the middle of the home, beaming, “Sorry, sorry, sorry, I was making their bed with fresh sheets. Now where are my loves?” Mrs. Weasley looks at her twins and tears start to form in her eyes. “Oh, my babies!” she exclaims as Fred and George engulf their shorter mother in a tight hug. “You boys don’t come home enough. I know the business is doing great, but please come home more. We miss you dearly,” she pinches their cheeks lovingly as George kisses his mother’s cheek.

Fred starts, “We miss you, too, Mum. Always.” Mrs. Weasley smiles at her son. “Mum, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N).”

Within mere seconds, Mrs. Weasley has scooped you into a hug, squeezing you tight as you giggle at the gesture. “Oh, my dear, it’s so wonderful to meet you at last. I can’t believe Freddie was hiding you from me all this time,” she gushes before holding you at arm’s length. “Beautiful American thing you are! Goodness, Fred, well done!” Fred rolls his eyes, making you giggle.

“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Weasley,” you smile warmly at your boyfriend’s mother.

She instantly starts shaking her head, “Oh no, dear. My name is Molly. Not Mrs. Weasley. Please, I insist.” You smile at her with a small blush on your cheeks. It had only been ten minutes, but you felt more at home than ever. “You are just a peach!” she pinches your cheek. “Adorable. You hungry, dear? Cuppa tea? I have dinner in the oven. We’re having roast chicken. Freddie told me that was your favorite meal. Lucky for you, it’s the dish I’m best at,” she whispers the last part to you as you giggle.

This family was doing everything they could to make you feel at home and it was surely working. You felt like you belonged here. Molly linked your arms together, insisting you tell her everything you and Fred had been doing as a couple for the last three months as she made you a cup of tea. “Mum’s already stolen her,” George nudges his twin with a cocky smile. “Good luck trying to get her back.”

But you didn’t mind being stolen off by Molly Weasley. The woman was a delight. She was sweet, kind, and so thoughtful. Molly loved hearing the way you spoke of her son. “You speak of him like he’s the only man on this planet,” she coos as she poured you tea.

You blush a wild shade of pink. Maybe you had to get used to blushing around the Weasley family. “He’s the only man on this planet for me,” you shrug. “Fred is a proper gentleman, Molly. Really.” Molly rolls her eyes, knowing how abrasive her own son could be. “No, seriously,” you laugh. “All of the boys that I’ve dated are all back in America, sure, but none can hold a candle to Fred. Honestly.”

Molly squeezes your hand, “And I hope it stays that way, my dear. The way that Fred speaks of you is unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him before. Hold onto each other. What you have already is worth it.”

“Thank you,” you squeeze Molly’s hand back.

The dinner hour soon rolled around which meant the arrival of more Weasleys. As everyone was finding their seat, two more people apparated into the Burrow. “Bill!” Ron exclaimed before engulfing his brother in a hug. Bill stood tall next to a beautiful blonde haired woman who you assume to be his wife, Fleur. The couple was breathtakingly beautiful.

Fred leaned down next to you. “That’s Bill and his wife, Fleur,” Fred confirmed your thoughts. “Fleur is part Veela. She has a...complicated relationship with my mother and Ginny. But no need to worry, that ship has sailed. She’s actually quite lovely,” Fred tells you as you nod.

Knowing that Molly Weasley didn’t instantly take a liking to everyone made you think about the initial reaction she had to you. It made you feel better how warm she was towards you, even though you wouldn’t wish coldness from the Weasleys on anyone.

“Bill, Fleur, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N),” Fred introduces you to his brother and his wife.

Bill shakes your hand with a polite smile. “Nice to meet you,” he beams. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Bill teased his brother.

“Keeping me a secret, eh?” you look at Fred.

“An American girlfriend! Oh, this is brilliant,” Bill laughs. “Looking forward to getting to know you,” he speaks.

You turn to Bill’s wife, Fleur who gives you a small smile. “Nice to see another girl in the ‘ouse,” she beams. “You are quite beautiful,” Fleur beams as you blush yet again. But this time it felt different. A Veela complimenting you on your beauty. “’ow did you manage to get ‘er, Fred?” Fleur keeps the teasing going as he groans.

“Bloody hell, I get it! My girlfriend is gorgeous, and American, and out of my league! Are we eating dinner?” Fred tries to change the subject which just makes everyone else laugh.

Dinner was divine. Molly really knew how to cook and boy, did she make a feast. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables, gravy, bread and chocolate cake for desert. Fred had told his mother what you’re favorite foods were and she gladly obliged to making all of them to which you thanked her profusely for.

Ron leaned back in his seat as the dishes were being magically cleaned. “You should come over more, (Y/N),” he rubs his belly, full of dinner, making you laugh.

Ginny sprung from her seat, pulling Harry up with her. “Well, digest quickly, Ron. The sun is setting and George promised me a game of quidditch before nightfall,” Ginny smirks at her older brother who groans.

“Quidditch? After this meal? What are you trying to do, Gin? Make me have a heart attack?” he complains. “Why can’t we do a morning game?”

“Cause you always sleep through morning matches!” Harry defends Ginny who smiles proudly at him. “Get your lazy arse up and get a broom!”

Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, Ron, and Bill all rise from the table and rush to the garden shed to grab brooms. You just laugh along with Fleur and Hermione at the table before you three rise from the table, walking outside to watch the game that would eventually descend into madness.

Hermione runs ahead of you and Fleur and to the backyard, calling out, “I’ll be score keep!”

Fleur turns to you and smiles, “’Ow are you feeling? I know the feeling of meeting the family for the first time. Although, I think you and I ‘ad different experiences.”

You give Fleur a knowing smile. “They’re a lovely family. I was very nervous to come here because I didn’t know how they would react to have a complete stranger in their house, but they’re really great. Freddie was right.”

Fleur links your arms together as you walk to a small clearing in the backyard as the lot before you hops on brooms and takes to the skies. “I know I ‘ave my ‘istory with the Weasleys, but they are very good people. Kind people. Genuine. And I know, Fred. I saw the way ‘e looked at you at dinner. The boy loves you very much. And being loved by a Weasley,” she looks up at her husband, laughing on a broom as he pats Freddie’s shoulder, “it’s the greatest feeling in the world. ‘old onto ‘im, (Y/N).”

Your heart swells at Fleur’s words. It was beautiful to see the way she spoke of Bill. How she looked at him. You could only wish that you had that kind of love with Fred. “Thank you, Fleur. That means a lot,” you squeeze her hand.

The two of you look to the sky to see the lot waiting. “Are you all going to start this game or not? I wanna see some action!” you tease those in the sky as Fleur giggles next to you. “You gonna win for me, Freddie?” you give him a wink.

Fred scoffs, “Of course I am.”

The quidditch game had ended quite quickly after a brief thirty minute game, Harry catching the snitch with ease. “That’s what happens when you challenge the best quidditch player of this generation,” he sticks his tongue out at Ginny who rolls her eyes and shoves her boyfriend inside.

“Wonder what happens if I beat up the best quidditch player of all time,” Ginny speaks as Harry laughs before running up the stairs away from his girlfriend who had just lost the quidditch match.

As the group files back in again, Bill and Fleur make their way upstairs back to his old room. Ron and Hermione scramble into the living room, Hermione challenging Ron to a chess match, giggling as Ron places a sneaky kiss on her cheek, George throwing playful punches at Fred who slaps his bum, running away as George yells at him. Percy, who sits in the recliner groans, “Can you be any louder? I’m trying to read!”

George looks at Fred who has a devilish smile on his cheeks. “Be louder? Alright!” Fred exclaims before he and George link arms and start scream singing a random song that came to their heads, making you shake your head and laugh.

Percy just leans further back into his chair with a sigh, but there is a small smile on his face as he watches his twin brothers, dance around the living room, occasionally letting a chuckle out here and there.

You sit on the couch, observing it all take place. To an outside eye, the Weasley house looked chaotic. But really, it was perfectly orchestrated. Everyone had their own thing to do, but still interacted and operated alongside each other without fail. Ron and Hermione quietly playing cheer in the corner, little giggles here and there. Percy reading a book, curled up in the corner. Ginny and Harry running up and down the stairs, in and out of the house. Bill and Fleur upstairs, getting ready for bed. Molly in the kitchen, cleaning up before getting ready to retire to her bedroom where Arthur was surely waiting after finishing the garden work. Fred and George acting like fools in the living room, babbling about the shoppe. The house was like an orchestra, each person playing their part that was very different from the others, but they all clicked together to make beautiful music.

Beside you on the couch, Fred sits and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “First day at the Burrow. How are you liking it?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You cup his cheek with your hand, brushing your thumb against it. “It’s perfect here. I can see why you love it so much,” you admit as he smiles, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “Your family is so sweet. I really adore them already.”

“And they adore you. Mum especially. She was gushing to Dad about you over dinner whilst you talked to Ginny and Harry,” Fred confides in you as your heart swells. His family liking you was all that mattered. “You’re smashing it. But I knew you would,” he shrugs as you giggle. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Kissing his lips gently, you speak, “I’m glad I came.”

----

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#Fred and George #fred weasley #Fred and Goerge Weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley x muggle!reader #fred weasley x female reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x american #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!!)

feat. Bokuto Koutaro

Previously: Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke. Kuroo Tetsuro. Tsukkishima Kei

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

Wordcount: 4.1k

Genre / Pairings: Fluff, Angst, Hogwarts AU, Bokuto / Reader

Summary: Tutoring Bokuto Kotaro in Charms seems like a waste of your time. But then you get to know the Hufflepuff seeker, and start looking forward to your tutoring sessions with him.

A/N: Comments as always, are much welcomed. Feel free to shout at me anytime!

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“I’m Bokuto!”

You stare coldly at the large hand shoved into your face. “Yes, I know. And so?” You arch an eyebrow and let your question linger awkwardly in the air. Surprisingly, even that fails to dampen the brightness of the grin on his face, despite the fact that any other student would have turned tail and run at being on the receiving end of the resident Ice Queen of Slytherin’s glares.

Your Charms professor coughs into his hand. “Ah. Yes. Bokuto requires some tutoring assistance, and I thought you’d be the right person to help out.”

You open your mouth in protest, but clamps it shut at the look of warning the professor shoots at you. It’s your bad luck you got caught sneaking books out of the restricted section of the library, it wasn’t as if the books you had your eye on contained dark magic in any case, they just contained spells deemed too dangerous for idiots like the one standing before you to even attempt. And instead of detention for a month, your Charms Professor who’s always had a soft spot for you suggested you divert your free time to tutoring struggling students instead.

“Fine”, you snap before turning to the boy. “You better not be as bad as Ushijima - Merlin only knows he was as dumb as a bag of bricks”.

Bokuto agrees to meet you every Tuesday in an unused classroom for Charms tutoring. You do not care that he seems to wilt ever so slightly at the insults you lob at his Hufflepuff teammate - you have no time to suffer fools, after all.

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Unfortunately, while Bokuto doesn’t take everything as literally as Ushijima (it was a problem you faced when you tutored the stone faced boy, especially for a subject requiring as much personal flair as Charms), he struggles with the precise motions and pronunciation needed for Charm incantations, and you’re losing your patience with him after he messes up Aguamenti for the tenth time today.

“You need to move your wand like a wave of water before pointing it sharply - like you’re shooting a jet of water into a glass”, you repeat yourself in exasperation.

He tries his best, waving his wand exaggeratedly but forgets the emphasis on the second syllable, so his wand remains completely dry.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes. “Look - it’s really not that hard. If you remembered all the notes I gave you about this charm, you’d have gotten it by now. Merlin - what’s wrong with you dumb Quidditch Players?”

“It’s not that easy to remember everything when you keep calling me dumb all the time”, Bokuto mutters, resentment colouring his tone.

Your shock that Bokuto - the human embodiment of a sunbeam, seems to have abandoned his usual cheerfulness for an uncharacteristically stormy expression, quickly morphs into annoyance that he has the temerity to get short with you considering you’re the one that’s been forced to give up her Tuesday evenings in an attempt to get him to pass his Charms exams.

“That’s because you ARE dumb”, you retort coolly. “Try casting the charm again”.

He shocks you again by gathering his things and walking out of the classroom.

“Where are you going?”, you call after him, confused. Even Ushijima put up with your insults and snide remarks for an entire term, but Bokuto doesn’t even look back.

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Bokuto doesn’t turn up next week either despite struggling in class with the very charm you spent hours trying to hammer into his head. Nor the week after that. Midterms come and go, and you overhear from a group of his twittering fangirls in the bathroom that his spot on the Quidditch team is on the line after failing his Charms exam as expected.

Guilt gnaws at you. Strange, since you assumed your heart is practically a block of ice by now.

You spend days trying to corner him to no avail. You always knew he had plenty of friends, but you didn’t realise how popular he actually was. He’s constantly surrounded by his teammates - or even other Quidditch players like Kuroo from Slytherin, or Hinata from Gryffindor, and his childhood best friend Akaashi follows him like a shadow despite being from Ravenclaw, not Hufflepuff.

So you bide your time and wait until he finishes Quidditch practice, whispering from the shadows “Diffindo” to sever the straps of his bag. Your plan works - Bokuto cheerfully waves his teammates to go on without him, and the horde of hungry Hufflepuff Quidditch players head off to the Great Hall for dinner.

“Why haven’t you come back for tutoring sessions?” You try to sharpen your question into an accusation, but your guilt makes you falter midway and you just sound bewildered instead.

Your bewilderment is mirrored in Bokuto’s eyes. “Huh?” he frowns. “I thought you didn’t want to tutor me in the first place, so I asked my friends to help me out instead.”

You snort, tapping your foot. “Akaashi’s a year below, so I doubt he’s much help, and Kuroo’s much better at potions than at charms. And I hear you’re going to get kicked off the team if you don’t pull up your Charms grades in the remedial exams before Christmas.”

The furrow between his brows deepens. “Why do you care if I’m failing my exams?”

You’re not accustomed to dealing with someone so straightforward and genuine and innocent. You’re used to conniving serpents like Oikawa and Daishou who would have no hesitation hiding daggers in their sleeves just to get ahead, so the fact that his question is honest floods your belly with guilt.

“Because I feel bad for calling you dumb.” You decide to honour his honesty with a straight answer. “Do you still want me to tutor you if I promise to be nice?”

Any shadow of lingering guilt is chased away by the sheer sunniness of his smile.

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The ice in your heart starts to thaw in the face of his exuberance and friendliness.

“You’re much nicer than people say you are”, he tells you one day with blunt honesty. “Why don’t you have more friends?”

You shrug, accustomed to the title that your peers have chosen to label you with. The Ice Queen of Slytherin, your housemates whisper behind your back after you slash Miya Atsumu’s robes in your second year, leaving him standing in nothing but his underwear after he pulled your bra strap on a dare.

Your mother and older sisters taught you self-defense charms even before you entered Hogwarts, and you have no qualms about using them, even against one of the most popular boys in your house. But it proves to be a miscalculation - one that leaves you with few friends other than those who’ve known you since your childhood.

“I don’t need friends”, you say, words frigid.

He grins at you, undeterred. “I’ll be your friend!” He declares, leaning forward, balancing his chair precariously on two legs.

“I’d be happier if you pass your exam”, you tell him dismissively, though there’s an amused curl at the corner of your lips.

True to his word, Bokuto drags Akaashi over to the Slytherin table during dinner the very next day. You startle as he plops into the empty seat across you, Akaashi giving you a slight nod of acknowledgement that’s also tinged with an unspoken ‘sorry you have to put up with my overly excitable best friend these days’ that you snort at.

Kuroo rounds up the trio, and between his and Bokuto’s bickering over who’s getting the best pickings from the meat dishes on the table, and Akaashi’s admonishments not to cause a ruckus that fall on deaf ears, you’re so entertained that you laugh aloud, though you wince internally when half the Slytherin table snaps their heads around to stare at you, dumbfounded.

Miya Osamu actually looks up from his katsudon to elbow his brother. Miya Atsumu chokes on his food.

You assume it was just a one-off event, Bokuto just trying to repay you with his kindness, but to your surprise, he’s back at least twice a week, and soon your lonely corner at the Slytherin table turns into the most boisterous ones. His very presence draws the most random assortment of people into his sphere - soon you’re joined by Tsukkishima, the quiet, stone faced Ravenclaw, Hinata, Bokuto’s self appointed protege and burgeoning sun in his own right, Sawamura, the stoic, steady Hufflepuff Keeper, on top of the usual suspects like Kuroo and Akaashi.

Not everyone is as amused by this turn of events.

“What’s he doing at our table?”

“I heard he’s being tutored by the Ice Queen herself - maybe that’s why he’s here.”

“That makes sense. Heard he’s really dumb.”

You stiffen as you hear your classmates snigger. Bokuto wilts, even the ridiculous mop of hair on his head starts to droop. Kuroo and Akaashi wear twin expressions of murderous intent on their face and both start to rise, insults on their tongues when you whip out your wand, freezing your offending classmate’s lips to his glass.

“Call him dumb one more time and I’ll freeze your balls to the bench”, you smile sweetly, poison in your words.

Kuroo guffaws as you turn back to your conversation with them with a saccharine “now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” Akaashi snorts into his hands.

Bokuto looks at you as if you’ve handed him the latest firebolt model on a gilded plate. You refuse to meet his eyes for the rest of the night.

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

You find that he responds far better to praise than negative reinforcement, bouncing around the classroom with such childlike enthusiasm whenever he succeeds in casting another new charm that it makes your lips tilt upwards. The combination of his Hufflepuff diligence and your renewed patience makes his performance in charms skyrocket, and soon, he’s improved enough for you to teach him the more fiddly, advanced charms.

‘You have to flick your wrist lightly’, you tell him for the fifth time this evening. Ascendio is a difficult charm to master, even by your own standards, your own wrist already sore from the various rounds of demonstration.

He tries to mirror your action. It doesn’t work.

‘Um.’ You rack your brains, thinking of something, anything that might help.

Ah.

‘You’ve got to move your whole arm like it’s the wing of a snitch. You know – keep the arm and wrist action light, like the flutter of wings.’

He furls his brow, trying to mirror your action again. It doesn’t work. This time, he pouts.

Impatient, you grab his hand. ‘Look!’ You slap at his arm to get him to loosen up – seriously, what do they feed these quidditch players, taut muscles tensing beneath your fingers as you try to puppet his arm into an approximation of the wrist movement. He gazes down at you with wide eyes as you press your form against him.

‘I’ll show it to you again. Ascendio’, you call, and with a sharp flick of your wrist, your feet lift off the ground, your skirt fluttering in the air. Then with a smooth swish of your wand, you descend to the ground, cocking your head to your student. ‘Come on, Bokuto, you’ve got to master it by the end of the night.’

He tries again and again to no avail. Charms is a far more creative branch of magic than transfiguration or even potions – and what works for one might not work for another. You recalibrate, trying to relate what you’re teaching to his true love - Quidditch.

‘Maybe you could imitate the movement of a snitch about to take off once the whistle blows?’

‘A snitch?’ he laughs boisterously at your suggestion. ‘I could do that.’

He screws up his eyes tightly, his entire body falling still before he raises his arm. With a flick and swish, a hooted “Ascendio”, Bokuto floats up into the air.

“I did it!” He pumps his fists in the air, grinning down at you. Then with a smooth finite incantatem, he descends back to the grimy classroom floor.

“Well done!” You laugh aloud, clapping your hands, so drunk with elation at his success that you don’t notice the sudden softness in his golden eyes.

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

“Waiting for Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asks.

You hesitate for a beat, a pink tint to the apples of your cheeks before you nod without a word.

“I’ll leave you two be then”, the Ravenclaw boy says, walking off with his hands tucked in his robes, a small smile flickering on his face.

You exhale slowly through your nose. Maybe you should have left Akaashi to wait for Bokuto instead - they’re best friends, practically platonic soulmates you gather from Bokuto’s chatter as he walks you back to the Slytherin dungeons every Tuesday night, something he insists on despite your protests. You’re just his tutor - but here you are, hanging around outside the classroom where his remedial exam is being held, palms clammy in nervous anticipation.

You tell yourself that you’re waiting for him because you can’t wait to know whether the tutoring sessions that take up your precious Tuesday evenings will end. You wonder if that means that he’ll stop coming over to hang out over dinner with you, the thought making your heart feel as if it’s frosted over again.

“Hey, hey, hey!” His booming voice interrupts your reverie, and you glance up to see him burst out of the classroom, the joy on his face outshining even the sun.

“You passed, I assume”, you snark, hands on hips, but he doesn’t even register your badly disguised coldness, grabbing by the waist to lift you easily into the air, spinning you in circles until you’re both giddy with delight.

“I did, I did, thanks to you!” He crows, still clinging on to you like a lifeline. “They were so impressed when I cast Ascendio, and I was like swish, and they were like aughhh wahhhhh - and it was so awesome!”

“I’m glad my effort paid off then, dummy”, you tease - seriously, it would make your housemates’ jaws drop if they caught you giggling, let alone being held aloft in Bokuto’s arms, but you’re just so happy for him that you don’t order him to put you down.

He stills suddenly, and you’re worried that he’s taken offense at the affectionate nickname until you notice his eyes are trained at the arch above you and oh -

Mistletoe.

It’s Christmas, and the house elves have hung enchanted sprigs of mistletoe around the castle on the orders of the mischievous headmaster to prank unsuspecting students. Any student trapped under enchanted mistletoe may only be released upon giving or receiving a kiss, and you’re about to press a chaste kiss to Bokuto’s nose when you glance back at him and notice his eyes are molten gold, laden with desire.

“Bokuto - “ you begin, but you’re promptly cut off by the searing brand of his lips against yours, gasping as he backs you against the wall, his mouth plundering yours. You should protest, but any sentient thought you might have is lost in your newly awakened hunger for him, this beautiful, sweet boy with golden eyes and silver hair who’s kissing you.

“I like you,” he says breathlessly when you finally push him away in an effort to pull air into your deprived lungs. “Go out with me - please?” he adds, almost as an afterthought, brushing his thumb against your cheek with a gentleness that belies his large frame crowding you against the wall.

You want to, oh Merlin - you want to indulge in the warmth that’s starting to sprout in the previously frozen tundra of your heart but you have to recognise that he’s Bokuto Koutaro, Quidditch player extraordinaire bound for the professional leagues, so popular that he already has a fanclub in school.

And you - you were a social pariah before you met him, you would ruin his reputation if anyone finds out that you’re in a relationship with him, not to mention you’ve been accused of being cold and distant and harsh - all characteristics that disqualify you from being a good match for him.

“I can’t.” You shake your head, keeping him an arm’s length distance from you, because if he comes any closer, you might lose your resolve. “We wouldn’t work out at all”.

The golden light dims in his eyes, and his arms fall limply to his side. “Is it because I’m dumb?” He asks, his voice heartbreakingly quiet.

“No!” You cry, taking a step towards him. “That’s not it at all!”

He frowns, confused. “Then why don’t you wanna go out with me? Don’t you like me?”

“I do”, you admit, hating yourself for having to extinguish the spark of hope in his eyes. “But we won’t work out -”

“Why’re you so sure of that?” He takes a step forward, reaching towards you. You knock his hands away and he stumbles back, stung.

“Because I’m not good enough for you!” You shout, your words echoing against the castle walls. “Because I’m snarky and frigid and cold and rotten to the core - and you’re wonderful and funny and sweet and you deserve so much better than me”.

Your words stun him into silence, and before he can work out a response, before your resolve starts to crumble, you take a large step away from him. With trembling hands, you reinforce the frozen fort in your heart, forcing yourself to beat a hasty retreat.

“Besides”, you add, voice shaking. “What could I possibly offer you?”

You disappear around the corner, coldly ignoring him even as he calls your name.

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

“He’s wandering around the castle like a lovelorn ghost”, Akaashi says, dropping into the library seat across yours.

“Explain why that makes it my business”, you hiss with the indignation of a cornered boggart with no means of escape.

He just gives you a knowing look and you glance at the skulking librarian, wondering if you should risk a detention to drive your sharpest quill into the back of the Ravenclaw boy’s hand.

“You know, it’s sad you think so little of Bokuto-san that you refuse to allow him to make choices for himself.”

“What are you - “

“It’s true, isn’t it?” His gaze remains resolute, even as you snarl. “Why don’t you prove me wrong?”

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

But you’re stubborn, so you avert your eyes whenever Bokuto comes into your line of sight, changing seats so you don’t sit anywhere near him in Charms, escaping whenever he tries to call your name. Your Tuesday tutoring sessions with him are a thing of the past. You even hear from Miya Osamu that Bokuto’s been trying and failing to bribe first years into letting him into the Slytherin Dungeons, though they’re all far too frightened of your reputation to even dream of crossing you, not even for the bait of a ride on his rare firebolt.

You’re lonely, but you refuse to admit it to yourself.

You even refuse to watch the match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin despite it being touted as the social event of the year. Both team’s lineups are exceedingly impressive. Representing Hufflepuff there are powerful players like Bokuto, Ushijma, Azumane, even surly Kyoutani. Slytherin’s certainly no slouch either, with Oikawa, Suna, Daishou, Kuroo and the Miya twins.

But you huddle in the library and ignore the screams and cheers of the whole school spectating the match until Akaashi skids into the library, distress clear on his face.

“He’s injured”, he manages to spit out between heaving breaths, and you don’t even need to ask who he is, panic turning your ribs into kindling, burning a blaze through your chest as you sprint full speed towards the hospital wing.

Quidditch is a horrendously dangerous sport - the Daily Prophet Sports Section is full of horrendous injuries like long lasting concussions and smashed bones that you’re already imagining the worst by the time you cross the threshold of the hospital wing. But Bokuto’s not even lying on the cot - he’s sitting upright, a confused yet hopeful expression on his face as you stare at him, dumbfounded.

“A-Akaashi said you were injured”, you manage to stutter.

Bokuto waves a bandaged finger at you. “Yep”, he says, taking wary steps one at a time towards you. “Suna got me good when I was about to catch the snitch”.

“Oh”, you say lamely. “I see.” You’re thankful no one else is in the hospital wing to see your disgrace. “I’ll be going, then”.

“Wait! Please don’t run away again”, he begs, taking advantage of your distracted state to catch your hand, his fingers circling your wrist easily. You tug against his grip, but it’s futile - you’ve left your wand in the library in your mad rush, and years of Quidditch training have sculpted Bokuto into the human embodiment of a brick wall.

“Let go of me!” You order him in the coldest tone you can muster. It’s not even icy - in fact, it’s probably lukewarm.

He shakes his head, as stubborn as you. “Not until you hear me out”, he replies, pulling you out of the hospital wing into the nearest unused classroom.

“Fine.” You cross your arms. “What do you want to say to me then?”

“Well for starters, you’re the most amazing, scary girl I know”, he says, grinning boyishly at you. “You’re so much smarter than me I don’t know how your head doesn’t go pfft cos it sure isn’t large enough to hold all your brains. And you’re nice - I don’t know why you pretend you’re not - Yachi said you cursed the boys who teased her ‘cos you found her in the bathroom crying, even though you literally met her for the first time - “

“Why are you telling me this?” You cut in, confused.

“Cos you asked me what you could offer me” He answers simply, his fingers slotting in between yours. “The answer is you. I want you. I like you.” His grin softens into a bashful, goofy, adorable smile. “And I know I’m not smart like you or Akaashi, but I know enough to think you like me too.”

Your mind is entreating you not to give in, reminding you that you’ll only drag him down with you but your selfish heart wins out. The weeks you’ve voluntarily isolated yourself from Bokuto have been cold and lonely, and the truth is you miss him - you miss the silly jokes he makes, the playful banter, his boundless confidence and kindness and friendliness. Maybe that makes you selfish, but you can’t deny it any longer, you want him for yourself.

So you reply with a shy smile of your own. “Maybe I do - like you, I mean”, you say, with an earnestness you must have learnt from him, tilting your face up towards him like a flower seeking the sun.

His eyes grow wide with delight as you step into the circle of his arms, allowing him to draw you against his broad chest.

“And to be honest, maybe I’m the fool for not letting myself admit that I’ve always liked you”.

“Don’t call yourself tha - mmmph!”

This time it’s your turn to interrupt him with a kiss, tipping his head down to slide your lips against his, the heat in his eyes and the sunshine in his smile that finally melting the last vestiges of ice in your heart and transforming you from a snow maiden into a girl made of flesh and bone.

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

Akaashi convinces you to sneak into the holding area before the next match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff.

You’re self conscious, constantly adjusting the scarf in Hufflepuff yellow and black looped around your throat, but that immediately dissolves when Bokuto whoops the minute he spots you, bounding over to sweep you into an embrace, demanding at least twenty kisses before he lets you go.

You oblige, because when faced with Bokuto’s pleading eyes, you’re weak, soft.

Then you realise why Akaashi was so insistent on you surprising Bokuto just before his big match.

Miya Atsumu falls off his broom, slack jawed. Miya Osamu trips over him. Even Suna Rintarou looks at you and Bokuto with a modicum of fear and respect.

“Get it together!” Kuroo snaps at his team, hands on hips.

None of that registers with Bokuto, of course. The minute the whistle blows, he speeds off, leaving even Oikawa in the dust, and before a dazed Miya Atsumu even scores once against Daichi, the Hufflepuff keeper, Bokuto is already holding the golden snitch aloft in his hand. He proceeds to do laps of aerial cartwheels around the pitch before hovering in front of the stands where you sit, shamelessly blowing kisses towards you.

You hide your burning face in your hands. Akaashi just sits beside you, intolerably smug. Bokuto, oblivious as ever, just whoops.

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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

Text

travel books and romance novels // Colin Bridgerton

Summary: Colin visits the library for research into his next trip; he didn’t expect to find you.

A/N: Colin’s desire to travel honestly reflects my own. For purposes of the fic, I have aged Colin up - it’s more to fit the plot line of Book Four which is his book anyway. I’m not sure how to feel about this fic, I'm happy with it but I’m not at the same time. I’m not being too harsh on myself however, this is my first time writing for Colin and I haven't got to grips with his character yet. I hope you all like!! <3

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Colin is very cute, pining, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers, female reader, she/her pronouns, marriage proposal, happy ending.

Word count: 4k

Colin Bridgerton had spent over two decades of his life on this planet and had yet to find something or someone he loves more than travelling. The bug first bit him in his early twenties; desperate to experience a Grand Tour – a tradition of which that had strongly died out in the past century. He had read about it so often; dreamed of it nearly every day that eventually he put the idea forward to Anthony and his mother, Violet.

Though Violet was apprehensive at first, she warmed up to the idea once Colin gave her permission to choose some of the countries he would visit. Anthony held no qualms; having travelled to France and Spain before tragedy forced the family title upon his shoulders. Being able to travel would forge Colin into the man he should be; it would give him experience, and plenty of stories to tell his children and then eventually, their children.

Upon arriving back in London after his second trip away, Colin found himself glad to be home. He had sorely missed the sounds and smells that accompany London; the clipping of horses hooves and the constant chit-chat of men and women. It was home; it would always be home.

However, as he stepped off the boat or the train, Colin always wondered the same thing. How long would it be until he craved adventure once more?

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

A month.

Colin lasted a month in the company of his beloved family before he was desperate to head off on his next adventure. However, he had no clear destination in mind. He had visited Europe, toured the Mediterranean and had hopes of crossing the Atlantic one day soon, but for now - to save his mother’s poor nerves - was content to remain closer to home.

He wasn’t one to visit libraries himself, usually sending a list of books with a servant whenever they visited the place, but this time he fancied the walk to stretch his legs. He had decided that research was the best way forward into finding his next destination, his next adventure. The library could offer such a thing.

It truly was a thing of wonder; so many books and serial publications at home in one place. The library at Bridgerton House was well stocked and Colin knew he could walk in freely and take whatever he would need, but there was something attractive about going out to find exactly what you need. There was also the added bonus of a lack of interrogation from his much-loved mother.

A huff leaves his body as Colin is pitched forward; barely catching himself before knocking into one of the shelves. Turning, Colin readies the words he wants to fling at the person who had yet they die in his throat when he finds you standing behind him with an apologetic look on your face, close to tears.

“Mr. Bridgerton!” You gasp, bowing your head politely and in apology, “I hadn’t meant to walk into you.”

Colin smiles, brushing down his suit jacket, “It’s no worry, Miss (Y/L/N). No harm done.”

“I hope not,” You reply, biting your lip.

His smile grows wider at the note of concern in your voice. “Truly, Miss (Y/L/N), no harm done.”

“Nevertheless, I apologise.”

“What are you reading?” He asks, nodding at the two books in your hand, changing the subject.

“They’re romances,” You admit shyly, “I read to my aunt twice a week. She rather enjoys them.”

“And you? Do you enjoy them?”

“There are some that I enjoy, yes, but I prefer books with adventures if I’m being honest.”

“Adventures?”

You nod, “I like them very much. What do you read?”

Colin frowns; confused at the question. You gesture to the shelves of books surrounding you, “What do you like to read, Mr. Bridgerton? We are in a library after all.”

“Non-fiction,” He replies, nodding his head to the stack dedicated to true life accounts of travellers. “I’m here doing research.”

“Research?”

“For where I want to travel to next,” Colin clarifies; walking towards the stack, all the while knowing you’re following.

“Have you an idea?”

He shakes his head; disappointed at the admission. For his last two trips abroad, he had known exactly where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do and see. Now, however, he was struggling for ideas.

You nod your head; seemingly understanding the predicament Colin has found himself in. Holding close the hardcover editions of the romances your aunt loved so much, you take a step back from the third eldest Bridgerton.

“I hope you find your location soon, Mr. Bridgerton,” You murmur in farewell, turning away from the tall brunette.

“I hope you enjoy your romances,” Colin replies, watching you walk away. Fleetingly, he wonders if he will see you again.

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

The library remains just as silent as the last time Colin visited. The books he had borrowed heavy in his hands as he returns them to the attendant who nods in thanks. Distantly, he wonder whether he will run into you again. Since meeting you last, he hadn’t stopped thinking about you.

Colin barely knew you or your family; didn’t know much about your lineage or even whether you knew of his, yet he had not stopped thinking about you and the way you held your books so close to your chest, as if protective of them and what they held even if you didn’t own them. He couldn’t explain the urge he had to get to know you. Colin felt certain that if he wasn’t to see you in the next day or so he was to go mad from the unknown.

Luckily for his sanity, he spies a familiar head of hair amongst the shelves, and he cannot help the surge of happiness that runs through him when he recognises you reading the spines of the books. “Miss (Y/L/N)!” Colin calls out in greeting; rushing over to you.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You smile, “How have you been? Have you decided on your next destination?”

“I have not though I’ll think of something soon.”

“I look forward to finding out. I’m sure Lady Whistledown will report on it.”

“I’m sure she will,” He drawls; his contempt for the author of the gossip sheet well known amongst family and friends. “How did the romances go down with your aunt? Did she enjoy them?”

Nodding your head, you explain, “Very much so. She usually stays awake for a chapter or two before falling asleep, but this time she stayed awake for close to five. I’m here looking for more books by the same author.”

“Would you like some help?”

“Only if you aren’t too busy. I wouldn’t want to pull you away from something more important.”

Colin shakes his head. “I would be happy to help.”

It takes the better part of an hour. Colin proving to be a distraction to your thoughts as you trawl through the shelves in the library. His very presence throws your mind into overdrive; overthinking his intentions for helping you, but also noticing just how handsome he truly is.

“I think we have enough for now,” You eventually comment, finding it hard to keep the sadness out of your voice as you realise that your time with the Bridgerton is up.

“Are three books enough?” Colin asks warily, as if he doesn’t want the time spent together to end either.

Sighing, you nod, “It’s enough to keep her occupied for a while. It takes us a few weeks to get through one book with me visiting her only twice a week.”

Colin nods understandingly, “Then the other romance novels must be for you.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I much prefer adventure novels though I did tell you that the first time we had met. Though I suppose I didn’t make that much of an impression.”

“I can assure you; you did. I just couldn’t help but notice that you must read far quicker than your aunt so surely you must read the other books you have borrowed.”

Caught out, you avert your gaze back to the books in your hand. Colin tries not to smile in triumph but fails miserably. “How often do you come here?” Colin asks, “Do you borrow books for your aunt alone, or do you read to another relative?”

Pursing your lips, you think over your answer. “I only read to my aunt and I suppose I come here at least once a week, usually on a Wednesday.”

Colin nods, “I shall see you next Wednesday then.”

Watching the Bridgerton walk away from you, you cannot help but wonder what exactly you had gotten yourself into.

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

The friendship that develops with Colin Bridgerton felt entirely natural; as if at some point in your lives your paths were always meant to cross, and a friendship was to begin. Colin finds you in and amongst the stacks of books the following week; a triumphant grin on his lips and his eyes bright with happiness when he finds you once again in the romance aisle.

He starts to offer you suggestions of books to read, meeting you at the library week after week; all the whole continuing his research into where he wants to travel next. He hasn’t settled on a destination, yet he comes to realise that this is the longest he has remained in London in years. Usually, Colin would return home, manage a month with his family before taking off again. A routine his mother has come to despise despite offering her blessing for every trip.

Weeks continue to pass and whilst his family know that Colin has become infatuated with someone, he isn’t ready to share you with them yet. He isn’t ready for the inspecting glances and interrogations from his mother, brothers, and sisters. For now, Colin was more than content to share you with the romance books you swear you don’t love as much as you truly do.

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

The café is busy and getting busier from a lunch rush when Colin sits down across from you. His hair remains a mess despite how often he runs his hands through it in an attempt to flatten it; his eyes are bright as he smiles widely at you.

“I thought you were going to be late,” You admonish, but there’s no heat behind it.

Colin takes a sip of his tea, “I could never be late, not for you.”

“You’re a flatterer.”

“And you’re a romance fan, no matter how many times you try to deny it. Tell me, what are you reading right now?”

You purse your lips, deciding whether to relay the information to him, but the longer you wait, the larger his smile gets. “Definitely not those novels,” You comment, “There is romance in my latest book, but I am reading it for the adventure. It has pirates if you must know, very adventurous.”

Colin laughs, reaching for one of the small cakes on the stand.

“I don’t know how I stand your company,” You complain, trying your best to calm your stomach long enough for you to enjoy the food on your plate. The butterflies raging there were making it rather hard.

“You like me, that’s why.”

“I suppose that is more judgement on me than it is you.”

Colin’s only answer is to wink before returning his attention to the food on his plate. For a while, it is silent between the two of you. happy smiles are exchanged between you both and quiet laughter when you both reach for the same cake; Colin, ever so gracious, lets you have the cake. Instead, he tops up his tea and then yours from the teapot.

“I would like to visit Russia next; I think – St. Petersburg,” Colin declares, breaking the silence once and for all.

“Truly? You would travel so far?” You ask, eyes wandering to the globe on the table in the corner of the room, a display item. Centred on England, Russia could not be seen for the distance between them.

“I’d travel to all four corners of the earth if I could,” Colin admits, voice honest.

You sit back in your chair, eyes wide with wonder at the prospect of travelling even outside the county without a chaperone. “I’d love to travel.”

“It is a marvel,” Colin smiles, thinking back to his trips through Europe and the Mediterranean.

“The only chance I’ll get to travel is on my honeymoon which will be a marvel in itself,” You reply, picking at an invisible thread on your skirts.

“Why?”

You sigh, “Mother doesn’t hold much hope for my marrying. She believes that I have been out for too many seasons and have nothing left to offer that could possibly entice a man into courting me, never mind proposing.”

Colin finds himself gripping the arm of his chair in an attempt to keep his anger at bay. Such words leaving your mouth should be a crime. You have plenty to offer. However, at the sight of your slumped shoulders and sad eyes, Colin realises that you believe the words of your mother; that you truly have nothing left to offer.

On a whim, Colin asks, “Are you attending the Duchess of Hasting’s ball tonight?”

Shaking your head, you explain, “Mother isn’t one for huge events no matter the title of its holder.”

Colin surges forward, grasping your gloved hand, “Come, please. My sister won’t mind. I’ll have her add you to the guest list and send a carriage for you.”

You remain silent as you think over his proposition, ready to turn him down and return to your life of safety but the determination in his eyes and the joy in his smile leaves you nodding your head instead.

“Alright,” You agree, “I shall wait for you carriage.”

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

The London home of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings could only be described as grand. Candles line the way to courtyard in which the ball would be held; they provide a romantic atmosphere, providing many a dark corner where young couples could sneak away from their chaperones.

Upon your announcement, you find yourself walking through the large crowd of people, unwittingly searching for the familiar head of brown hair. He finds you first, however, smiling widely as he notices you in the crowd.

Colin excuses himself from his conversation; making his way over to you as fast as he can without bringing too much attention to himself.

“You came,” Colin breathes as if in disbelief that you stand before him. His eyes run over you; taking it all in as his heart races. He hasn’t felt like this before; he hasn’t ever known anyone to make him feel like this. Colin feels as if he wants to show you everything, introduce you to everyone, but also keep you for himself should anyone want to steal you away.

“I said I would,” You smile, heated from his attention.

“You look beautiful,” Colin states truthfully.

“Thank you,” You answer, “You look very handsome too.”

“Would you care to dance?” Colin asks, a hand outstretched and waiting.

Smiling, you nod your acceptance. You take his offered hand, letting him leads you to the dancefloor where many other couples are readying themselves for the opening notes of the dance. Out of the corner of your eye, you spy Anthony’s eldest brother getting ready to dance with his wife, Kate. He offers Colin a smile and a nod to which Colin’s shoulders relax somewhat. You raise an eyebrow at the brunette only for Colin to shake his head; nothing you need to worry about.

Colin’s hands find themselves in the correct position son your body as you reach for his free hand, resting your hand on his shoulder. The music soon starts up and Colin begins to lead you round the dancefloor in a flurry of spins that leaves you giggling. His face lights up at the sound of your laughter, soon finding himself joining in.

“Stay for one more dance?” He asks as the music dies and you pull away, desperate not to let go of you just yet, happy enough right now to feel your hand in his and your body pressed so close.

“I’d love to,” You answer honestly, letting yourself be pulled back to the dancefloor where Colins hands soon start to feel like home on your body.

By the end of the second dance, you begin to feel dizzy from the spinning. Smiling gratefully at Colin, you apologise for having to bow out. He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand, “Shall we get a drink? I’m sure I saw some lemonade not too long ago.”

“Lemonade sounds perfect. I seem to have worked up quite a thirst.”

“Then by all means,” Colin declares, bowing dramatically at the waist, “We must get the lady a drink.”

Laughing softly, you follow Colin to the drinks table where he hands you a small glass of the cold drink. He goes to take a drink from his own glass but is distracted by his mother calling his name. Colin apologises before leaving you in the company of his sisters, Eloise and Hyacinth.

“Good evening, mother,” Colin greets, dropping his head to kiss her on her cheek.

“Two dances in a row?” She asks as greeting, curious to know just who has distracted her son in this manner.

Colin ducks his head; not ashamed to have been caught out in his feelings, but ashamed that he hasn’t introduced you to his family as of yet. Across the room, despite the music, he hears your laughter. His attention rests on you as he watches you laugh at something said by either Eloise or Hyacinth. Your smile is wide as you try to cover it with your hand; trying to be polite but neither sister care that much as they continue to make you laugh.

You’re beautiful, he realises. He’s known it all along, of course, but with that smile on your face, Colin cannot help but desire to be the one who brings such a smile to life. He wants to be the cause of your smiles and your laughter; the reasons why your eyes crinkle in the corner. He wants it all; he wants it with you.

“I think you know why you haven’t set off on another adventure,” Violet states pointedly; eyes dancing between her son and where you stand, talking to Eloise and Hyacinth. A mother always knows.

Colin’s eyes don’t need to follow his mother’s; they had been on you since you excused yourself from him. He’s finally ready to confront what he had known along. “I think I know too. Do you approve?” He asks; realising he sounds like a child desperate for his mother’s attention.

Violet Bridgerton smiles, brushing Colin’s cheek softly with a gloved hand. “I think you suit each other perfectly.”

The smile that breaks over Colin’s face could only be described as blinding as he takes his mother’s hand from his face, kissing the back of it before leaning in to kiss her cheek. Against her cheek, he whispers, “Thank you, mother.”

Violet nods, eyes lined with tears as she watches her third eldest son walk away from her. She would be the first to admit how well suited you both are; the need for adventure alive in the both of you. She shakes her head fondly as she watches her son make his way over to you; holding out his hand, asking you to dance to which you graciously accept.

Violet begins to walk the outskirts of the ballroom; feeling nothing but pride and happiness for each one of her children and elated in the knowledge that there was soon to be another marriage in the Bridgerton household.

-----------

The morning after the ball is a pleasant one. The weather wonderfully warm as the sun shines through the windows; heating the drawing room pleasantly. Turning your face, you take in the rays, careful not to risk too much exposure.

Your latest read remains open on your lap as you continue to bask in the warmth of the sun. So far, the book has captured your attention and has failed to let it go. The heroine of the novel too relatable personality wise for you to take a break long enough. At this point in the novel, she had offered an ultimatum to her suitor – he can join her on her next escapade, or he can find another woman to marry. You could only hope he would join her in her next adventure; their comradery was too perfect to end so suddenly.

However, after the events of last night, you found it hard to focus on the book long enough to turn the page. Instead, you found yourself reading the same line over and over again, desperately trying to lose yourself in the witty prose of the author.

But your mind focused on last night: the music, the dancing, the company. It had been a dream; it felt like a dream – only your mind could cook something up so perfect, yet deep down you knew you had experienced every second. You were certain you were still dizzy from the spins you had taken when dancing with Colin.

Biting your lip, you think back to the three dances you had shared with the third eldest Bridgerton. Three dances – could it be true? Shaking your head, you answer your own question. It was true; you remember every moment with crystal clarity. Three dances with Colin had to mean something; it had to mean he felt something for you. Your heart begins to race as you think of the possibilities

“Miss,” Your Butler states, interrupting your daydreaming, “A Mr. Colin Bridgerton is here to call on you.”

“Show him in,” You answer, standing from your window seat, brushing down the skirts of you dress. Biting your lip, you could only hope that you looked presentable.

“(Y/N),” Colin greets as he enters the room, a large smile on his face. A bouquet of red roses and lady’s breath in his hand that he offers to you.

“They’re beautiful, Colin. Thank you,” You whisper, eyes darting around the room for a vase. They would be put in there after Colin had left.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“What did I do to deserve flowers though?” You ask, a teasing note in your voice.

Colin smiles, “I know where I want to travel to next. I came to tell you.”

A pang of disappointment rushes through your body soon followed by upset. Placing the flowers on the nearest table, you do what you can to avoid his gaze as you ask, “When do you leave?”

“That’s the thing,” He starts, shifting nervously, “I have something to ask of you before.”

“What?”

“Travel with me. Come with me,” He all but pleads, reaching for your hand, “As my wife.”

Your eyes widen as Colin’s grip on your hand tightens. “What?” You question, breath coming in a hurry. “What are you asking me, Colin?”

“I’m asking you to marry me so we can travel together. I’ve seen the world once; I want to see it again with you.”

“I have to admit this isn’t what I expected today,” You ramble, trying your best to not look into his eyes. The moment you do, you’re done for.

“(Y/N)…” Colin interrupts, cutting off your nervous rambling. “I need to know an answer, love.”

It’s only then that you let yourself look into his blue eyes; reading the emotions written over his face. He was promising you adventure; the likes of which you had only read in books. Colin was promising you a future full of love and laughter; a dream you had hoped for since you were a young child.

Suddenly, as you look into his blue, blue eyes, it’s all clear.

“Yes,” You whisper, somewhat breathless but entirely ready to begin your future with the man in front of you, “Let’s see the world together.”

********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff

#colin bridgerton x reader #colin x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton imagines #colin bridgerton imagine

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babybluebex · 3 years

Note

If you’re still doing the kissing prompts I liked this one!

“hand kisses!!!! let me invite you for a dance!!!!! let's end it with a kiss on the cheek!!!!”

I feel like this would be a Zemo thing since he’s a baron and all and probably knows how to dance properly??

oh i loved writing this so much so much. thanks for requesting!

“The Baron is looking at you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why would Heinrich Zemo be looking at me?” you asked your sister.

“No, no, not Heinrich,” your sister said quickly. “His son, the young baron. Helmut.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and tossed a glance over your shoulder, and your eyes landed on Helmut Zemo. He was older than you, almost done with his stint in the military, and his training showed in the way he carried his body and held his head high. His dress uniform, a navy jacket with a gold sash under his arm, adorned with medals, glittered under the lights of the ballroom, and it made ignoring the young baron quite difficult. That, and the fact that his piercing brown gaze was on you. The moment your eyes met, he gave you a smile from across the room, and you quickly turned away.

“Christ, why’s he looking at me?” you asked.

“Maybe he wants to ask you to dance,” your sister shrugged. “How do I know?”

“Oh, fuck, if I have to dance with him, I’m leaving,” you mumbled.

Behind you, someone cleared their throat, and your stomach dropped. You turned back and found the young baron standing there with a smile, his dimples showing in his rosy cheeks. “Pardon the intrusion,” he began. “But I couldn’t help but notice you across the ballroom. You are very gorgeous.”

You nodded carefully. “Thank you,” you replied. “You look quite handsome yourself, Baron Zemo.”

His eyes widened as he scoffed, and he said, “No, no, please, call me Helmut. My title… I don’t care for it too much.”

“Helmut,” you whispered, testing the name. It was an older name, not necessarily suited for the twenty-something man before you, but the smile that grew across his face when you said it spoke volumes to you. “It’s a good name.”

“Thank you,” Helmut said. When you told him your name, his smile grew wider, and he carefully took your hand in his. He lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to your fingers, and he said, “Enchante, mademoiselle.”

“Oh, wow, he speaks French,” you laughed.

“And German,” Helmut said. He didn’t let go of your hand, but you didn’t mind it at all. “And Spanish. And Portuguese, and a little Mandarin. And Sokovian and English, obviously.”

“Jesus Christ,” you said. “I struggle with one language. So, you’re kinda the whole package, huh? You’ve got brains, beauty, brawn; what more could a girl want?”

You liked the abashed flush that came over Helmut’s face, and his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Can I ask you for a dance?” he asked. “That was my intention for approaching you.”

You looked quickly at your sister for help, but she offered nothing other than a starstruck smile, and you looked back at Helmut. “Yes,” you said. “I’d love to dance with you, Helmut.”

The group of musicians were halfway through a violin waltz when Helmut led you to the middle of the ballroom, and he put a hand on your waist and grasped your hand in the other. He easily led you in the waltz, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the unbelievable situation. You were waltzing with Sokovian royalty. It was such a dream. You two were talking the whole time; it started off with a discussion about literature, then drifted off into more personal topics. By the end of the dance, you had to admit that you were smitten with Helmut.

The musicians ended the song with a flourish, and Helmut leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you for dancing with me,” he said softly, and he kissed your other cheek. “I do hope to see you again after tonight.”

“Oh, I’ll make an effort,” you said with a smile, and you reciprocated the kisses.

Helmut quickly bit his bottom lip and glanced around him, and his grip on your hand became tight. “Not to be too forward, but… I believe the garden outside is a private place. If you would like to accompany me, I mean.”

As Helmut swept you from the ballroom, you decided that, once and for all, that you were living in a fairy tale.

#zemo #baron zemo #zemo fanfiction #baron zemo fanfiction #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl fanfiction #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel brühl #daniel brühl fanfiction #daniel brühl x reader

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angelsdevils · 3 years

Text

Kagami x Reader

Title: Crushing on your Best Friend Fluff No Warning

You, Taiga and Tatsuya had been friends for a long time. So when they left for Japan at different times, you felt alone. it had been a long while since you had seen them. So when your school offered you a chance to move to Japan as a transfer student, you instantly agreed. Now, here you were making your way to the basketball tournament. You knew it was today because Taiga and Tatsuya would always tell you when they had games. You had every intention of surprising him, but you didn’t expect to see Tatsuya there. But it made sense, since they were brothers and what not.

Tatsuya must have felt you staring at him because he turned his head to you. His eyes widen as he broke out into a smile. A tall guy with purple hair looked at him confused before looking over at you.

“(Y/N)….” He picked you up and hugged you tightly, serveral other people turned and stared at you.

“Man she is hot.”

“Look at her rack.”

“Is Tatsuya her boyfriend.” You blushed a bright red, and began to get nervous. Tatsuya shot them a glare and shook his head slightly.

“She is like my younger sister, now shut up.” Everyone shuddered at the glare before and got quiet before he turned back to you.

“What are you doing here in Japan?”

“Well, my school offered me a chance to be a transfer student. Since I felt so alone after you and Taiga left, I instantly accepted.” You looked down and Tatsuya nodded his head in understanding.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you feel alone.” He said patting your head and you smiled up.

“It’s okay.”

“What school will you be attending?”

“Seirin…”

“Darn I was hoping you would say Yoshen. Does Taiga know?”

“No, not yet. I was going to surprise him and sorry Tatsuya I didn’t get a choice…”

“I know and it’s not your fault so don’t apologize. Plus you will be with Taiga.” He smirked at you, and your face turned a bright red that it almost glowed.

“Dude, Tatsuya I think you broke her.” The purple hair guy said and Tatsuya only laugh.

“Don’t go there Tatsuya!” You huffed hiding your face and Tatsuya laughed softly.

“Sorry, I had to tease you. It’s been so long. By the way this is Murasakibara, Murasakibara this is (Y/N) a long time friend of mine adn Taiga’s.”

“It’s nice to meet you… do you have any snacks?” He asked and you blinked and Tatsuya sighed softly but you nodded reaching in your suit case and handed him a bag of chips.

“I don’t need them.”

“Thanks, you are officially my best friend.” He said and you smiled slightly.

“It’s no problem.”

“Anyway, the game is almost over. When it’s over I can take you to Taiga.”

“Yes please, I almost got lost in here.”

“Alright.” He smiled softly and the three of you went back to watching the game with Seirin winning the game. When it was over, Tatsuya gently took your hand and led you to the back where Taiga would be. When you guys got close enough, Tatsuya put you behind him before calling out to Taiga and the team.

“Taiga…” Taiga turned around and saw Tatsuya .

“Yeah, what’s up?” He had his head tilted, confused as to why Tatsuya called him like this.

“I have someone for you.”

“Who?”

“A transfer student to your school.” The entire team got curious as they stared and Taiga looked even more confused. Tatsuya pushed you gently in front of him, and Taiga’s eyes widen in shock.

“She is really cute.”

“Does Kagami know her?”

“Why is it that Kuroko and Kagami both know hot people?” You began to get flustered at the comments, but Kagami ignored them. He walked to you calmly before picking you up in the air and spun you around. You let a small squeak out as you clung to him laughing softly.

“I missed you so much Taiga.” You said with a small blush and he buried his face in your hair. Neither one of you minded that he was sweaty, just glad to be together again like old times.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise to be fair, Tatsuya didn’t know either I saw him when I arrived.”

“I see… do you have a place to stay?”

“Well right now, a hotel because the apartment they had for me wasn’t cleared out.”

“You can stay with me… tell them you have a friend or family that you can stay with.” He said and you blushed but nodded.

“Idiot, she can’t stay with you.” Junpei said and you looked at him confused.

“Why not?”

“You are a girl and he is a male…”

“We had done it before…” You said and Taiga nodded his head and everyone’s faces turned red. Kagami soon realized what they were thinking.

“God, get your minds out of the gutter.” He yelled at his team, thats when you caught on and almost past out from embarrassment.

“(Y/N) is too innocent for that.” Tatsuya said shaking his head sighing softly.

“Hey I gotta go change, and what not. So, just wait for me here okay?” He said to you and you nodded your head.

“Okay, I don’t have to go to the hotel, since I came straight here after landing.” You said and he nodded with a smile. When he left to go change Tatsuya wrapped his arms around you hugging you tightly.

“Taiga will take good care of you, so you don’t have to worry.”

“I know, we will be able to hang out too right?”

“Of course, when we aren’t studying or basketball we can.” He ruffled your hair and you sighed softly with a wide smile.

“Okay…”

“I have to go with the team, Taiga won’t take long.”

“Okay, thank you.” You said hugging him tightly and he returned the hug. He then left and you sat down on the bench, holding the suitcase.

It wasn’t long before Taiga came out, and stood in front of you.

“Shall we go?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded and he took your suitcase from you before taking your hand. You both walked behind the basketball team.

“I should warn you, they are going to invade my house wanting me to cook.”

“That’s okay, I can help you cook.” You said with a small smile and Taiga smiled as well.

“Thanks, I miss your cooking.” He said and you smiled looking up at him.

“Well, I can take over it.”

“No need, we can rotate. Or cook together.”

“I like cooking together with you Taiga.” He had a small blush on his cheeks as he realized he missed hearing you call his name.

“I can’t wait to get to your home.” You said and he looked at you confused and you blinked.

“(Y/N) it’s our home.” He said leaning down to kiss your cheek, you blushed a bright red hiding your face with your hair.

“I am happy you are here (Y/N).”

“I am too Taiga. I missed you so much.” Taiga stopped walking for a moment blushing as he turned to you.

“I love you so much, I don’t think you realize that.” He said, his hands were starting to sweat and you could tell he was nervous. Your face was red but you took it to the next step, leaning on your tippy toes, and pressed your lips to his. Kagami was shocked but he slowly began to kiss back. You pulled away and had a wide smile on your face.

“I love you too Taiga.”

“So does this mean we are dating?”

“If you want us too…”

“Well I do, so you are my girlfriend now.”

“Okay love birds, lets go.” Hyuga said and Kagami shot him a glare for destroying the moment.

“We are coming.” He said before lacing your fingers together and you both began to walk again.

#taiga kagami #kagami taiga #kagami x reader #kagami #fluff #tatsuya himuro #Kuroko's Basketball #kuroko no basket

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